Chapter 38 – All Too Human
A/N: Apologies upon apologies for the long gap in posting. Work has been overwhelming and despite receiving the vaccine, I contracted COVID-19 and it took me down. I am finally regaining my health and luckily writing doesn't require too much energy as I still get very winded. (Song: Deep End – Ruelle)
Just a reminder, I do not own HP nor do I receive no payment. However, I would gladly accept reviews from you lovely folks – they make me terribly happy. No beta so y'all have fun with my grammatic issues. Now onto the second part of the Samhain ritual!
Vivid colors, sounds, and sensations surrounded Draco. He blinked rapidly in confusion as the garish and disgustingly infantile room came into focus. Pictures of letters and strange animals decorated the walls while sunshine filtered through the smudged windows. Looking around, he saw several desks and a handful of small children who looked to be around six or seven years old. Vaguely, he thought it odd that they should be at eye level. Without warning, he was unexpectedly shoved from behind and crashed to the floor in a painful heap. Whipping his head up to see who would dare, he was met with a plump girl with dirty blonde hair and an obscenely frilly and pink dress. The resemblance to one Dolores Umbridge was unnerving and Draco wasn't sure whether he should laugh or cringe. Her face was scrunched up in an expression that could only be described as if she were smelling something rather unpleasant.
"Freak." She called out in a high voice, "You don't belong with us." She reached down and tugged on a curl that made Draco wince in pain. He reached up and rubbed the sore square of scalp, scowling at the insipid child.
Wait a moment! Why would this feel painful to him? It clearly wasn't his hair. Not even remotely close.
A wave of panic, simultaneously slowing the world to a crawl, washed over him and he scrambled upwards, searching for any reflective surface. Finding one at last, he dashed over and inhaled sharply when a pair of large, amber eyes looked back. A familiar smattering of freckles ghosted across his cheeks and a wild mane of unruly chocolate curls framed his face. Small hands reached up and pushed his reflection about, poking and prodding with a look of abject horror.
Sweet Merlin, Morgana, and Circe! HE WAS IN HERMIONE GRANGER'S BODY!
Adrenaline flooded his body, or was it her body, as his breathing swallowed into panicky breaths. Struggling to absorb his surroundings, a Muggle classroom he realized with some measure of dread, and attempted to dash towards the door. Unfortunately, the miniature Umbridge from earlier stuck out her foot and Draco, in his panic, was unable to avoid the obvious trap. He crashed to the floor once more, knocking his temple painfully on the cheaply tiled floor. A warm, trickling sensation slipped across his brow and he lifted a cautious hand to tenderly probe the injury. He pulled his hand away to find it covered in bright red when a giggle promptly pulled him back to the unpleasant situation currently unfolding.
"My mummy says people like you shouldn't be allowed in civil society?" the blonde girl spoke with a sickly-sweet tone followed by an equally saccharine giggle, "Do us all a favor and disappear!"
Sweet Salazar, this little menace even giggled like the deranged pink puff! He thought unhappily.
She turned with a sniff and Draco stood up from the floor, feeling particularly woozy. His, or rather Hermione's curls, were slick with the reddish sheen of blood. His stomach dropped painfully.
Was he living her memories? Was this what Cerridwen had intended?
Before his questions could be considered, he felt the world tilt and it all went dark.
Lurching forward, Draco awoke with a groan and found himself sitting inside a bathroom stall, his eyes stinging with salty tears. Reaching up to swipe away the offending tears, he wondered just why he was response, a memory flooded his mind's eye:
Bloody nightmare, that one. It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends!
Draco narrowed his eyes at the freckle faced redhead who was obviously mocking Hermione behind her back. Weasley. He watched as Hermione's petite form pushed past the git and rush away towards the girl's bathroom, coughing loudly in an attempt to hide the hurt she felt. His heart thumped painfully for her. He realized, in some faraway consideration, the neither the Muggle world nor the Wizarding world had accepted the magnificent creature that was Hermione Granger. The memory faded away and was replaced by a tremor that shook the ground beneath his feet. Cautiously, he stood and opened the door.
Before him stood a fully grown mountain troll while dragging a thick and menacing club, its offending odor filling the bathroom. Draco felt himself blanch recalling the night Quirrell, possessed by the Dark Lord, had released one into the castle during the Halloween feast their first year. He released an involuntary squeak of surprise, which unfortunately drew the troll's attention directly at him. The troll raised its club as Draco, in Hermione's shrill voice, screamed out in pure terror. As the club came smashing downwards, the troll dissolved in a flash of smoke and Draco found himself standing at the corner of Hogwarts corridor, lit only by flickering torches.
He dropped his arms from their defensive position and looked around wildly. Breathing a sigh of relief, it was quickly replaced with a sense of trepidation. Another memory of hers. Cerridwen had said he would experience all the pain Hermione had suffered. He groaned loudly and dropped his head into his hands. She was part of the Golden Trio and an obscene amount of trouble managed to find them every year. Apparently, she had been bullied mercilessly as a child and unluckily had come face to face with a troll their first year. His brow furrowed as he attempted to recall what had happened the following year. He felt his body seize when the memory finally surfaced.
The Chamber of Secrets. The basilisk. Hermione Granger had been petrified.
Draco was frightened to open his eyes, knowing what would be there when he opened them. A soft scrape sounded before him, sending his senses into overdrive. He shuddered knowing the basilisk was waiting silently nearby. He felt his hand move of its own accord and reach into the inner folds of their shared robe and withdrew a small mirrored compact. Flicking the compact open with a deft movement, he cracked his eyes open and looked into the reflection of hideous yellow eyes. The air squeezed viciously from his lungs as he crashed backwards, limbs frozen in place, his eyes unseeing.
Bright moonlight flooded his vision and filtered through the dark branches of towering trees. A shuffling noise alerted Draco that he was not alone. Looking to his right, he found Harry Potter crouched next to him.
What was he doing next to the wizarding boy wonder in what was obviously the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night?!
Draco absolutely LOATHED the Forbidden Forest, not since that night serving detention alongside that blundering oaf of a professor and the prodigal wizarding son. The wizard in question murmured something, unheard by Draco because at that moment a werewolf, a bloody werewolf, had crept into the clearing. It raised it snout, sniffing delicately before its eyes locked on their position. Dread filled every thread of Draco's existence.
A troll, a basilisk, and now a werewolf! What was next, a bloody dragon?! How in Merlin's name did Granger keep getting herself into these life-threatening and absolutely dangerous situations? It was undoubtedly unrelenting and quite irritating.
The world dissolved again as the werewolf, he now recognized as their ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, began charging. This time he found himself in a large room filled to the brim with clocks. Clocks gleamed from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. A beautiful, dancing, glimmering light filled the room with brilliant and blinding light. The constant changes of scenery and accompanying sounds were beginning to take a toll on Draco, a dizzying wave of nausea rolling over him. Each encounter growing more terrifying than the last. He had agreed to pay the price, but he was beginning to realize the depth of this cost. Cerridwen, no doubt, intended to bring him to the edge of mental sanity and physical endurance. She wanted him to break, to prove he was the useless being she believed him to be. Sniffing lightly, he resolved to continue pushing forward no matter the cost. If Hermione Granger could survive, then so could he.
Flashes of light sparked around him and shouts echoed in the distance, slowly growing louder and angrier. Bodies crashed through the door, defensive and offensive spells flew in every direction, smashing the ticking clocks in a sparkling shower of glass and sand. In the blink of an eye, he was thrown into the chaos. A jet of red-hot light shot past his ear, the smell of seared hair filling his nose. Nearby, Draco watched as Harry Potter stunned Crabbe Senior, who fell heavily to the floor in a crumpled heap. Potter whirled around, his eyes wide with determination, and began running towards him.
"DUCK HERMIONE!" he bellowed, shoving past Draco.
Draco dropped deftly thanks to his Seeker reflexes as the tell-tale sickly green light of the Killing Curse streaked above the space his head had previously occupied. He craned his neck around to see Potter tackle Rastaban LeStrange to the ground, both crashing to the floor with low grunts. Longbottom appeared at Draco's side and swiftly disarmed Rastaban. Draco lifted his wand and shot off a Stupefy before Rastaban could regain his bearings. The LeStrange brother stumbled back, knocking a large bell jar onto his head, which promptly begin to sprout gray hairs which in turn shriveled into a skull before turning into the round face of a child. Draco felt oddly elated at the thought of incapacitating the brother-in-law of his psychotic aunt. Shouts from Potter and Longbottom sliced through Draco's mind, their urgent words propelling Draco's feet forward. The feeling quickly disappeared when Antonin Dolohov and Victor Jugson ran into the bright room, swearing loudly at the sight of their fellow Death Eaters sprawled on the immaculate floor. As the three DA members sprinted towards a side chamber, Draco glimpsed Jugson gag heavily as he caught sight of Rastaban's rapidly ageing and de-ageing head trapped within the glassy prison. Unfortunately, Dolohov was less affected by the sight and shot off several rapid-fire Impediment Jinxes towards the trio.
Draco whipped around and shot off a Silencing Charm towards Dolohov in response, hoping it would stop him from alerting any nearby Death Eaters. Meanwhile, Potter threw a Full Body-Bind Curse at the distracted Jugson. Draco threw a small smirk in Potter's direction, bemused that Potter had unwittingly saved his childhood nemesis twice now. This lapse in attention proved to be unwise when Potter's face contorted in fear.
"Hermione! NO!" he screamed, attempting to rush towards Draco as a bright purple light filled the room.
Draco had just enough time to slide his eyes in the direction of the violet beam of light, to the sight of Antonin Dolohov grinning like the Cheshire Cat of Alice in Wonderland. Before the spell connected, Draco could feel the heat radiating off of it. The sinister purple edged in a charcoal black sizzled like the freshly forged edge of a deadly blade. With a sharp crack, the curse sliced against his skin and stars exploded behind Draco's eyes. His skin splintered and cracked, the smell of burnt flesh filling his nostrils. Screams echoed around him, not sure if his were his own or others. He felt the curse race through his veins, fraying fragile nerve endings and setting his blood on fire. It was like his torso had been cut in two, his inside writhing with the indescribable pain. Draco didn't know how long he howled in agony before the glittering room winked out of existence.
A familiar room flitted across Draco's vision and his body jerked involuntarily upon recognizing it.
Malfoy Manor. The Drawing Room.
He inhaled sharply as a barely audible "No" softly escaped his lips. Not this memory. Anything but this particular memory. He had personally witnessed this scene, but from the other side, before he had fallen irrevocably in love with the witch whose body he currently possessed. How she had suffered while he idly stood by, too afraid and cowardly to rush forward and save her. A crazed giggle filled his ears as fingers snaked delicately up his scalp. He barely had a moment to breath when those same fingers dug ragged nails into tender flesh, cutting tracks while jerking his head back so forcefully that he felt something pop. At the same time, he felt his feet kicked brutally out from under him while another hand closed around his throat and Draco collapsed onto the hard and unforgiving marble floor.
The face of his unhinged aunt emerged above him, her fetid breath washing over him as sharp teeth glinted maliciously. He struggled not to gag, suffocating beneath the weight of what he was about to endure, his body already trembling with adrenaline. Bellatrix screamed words in his ears but he did not hear them. He already knew what it was his aunt sought. The Sword of Gryffindor that had been supposedly stolen from her vault. Her breath was hot in his ear, washing over his neck. Her screeching voice, shouting over and over her request. Draco almost wished she'd get on with it. With a quick search through Hermione's mind, it had been very obvious that Hermione had not entered Bella's vault and she hadn't even been the one to locate the sword in the first place. However, Bella's lack of sanity at that point in time made it a moot point and she had truly just wanted to torture the girl for the sheer joy of it. Bella withdrew, a sneer briefly marring her features, before lifting her wand and releasing a Cruciatus Curse ringed with tones of pure joy.
Pain exploded in every fiber of his being. His eyes bulged, his muscles seized viciously, and he was sure he had managed to crack a tooth from gnashing his teeth violently. A red haze filled his eyes, whether from blood or the curse, he couldn't be sure. His world was on fire and it was unending. He had experienced the Cruciatus Curse, a favorite instrument of punishment favored by the Dark Lord. However, the Dark Lord was almost lazy in his casting of it. The pain was undeniable, but the Dark Lord made sure that his followers could continue to perform his foul requests following several rounds of punishments. This was different. This Cruciatus Curse was meant to maim, to be lethal, to break the strongest of psychological barriers. In his agony-laced haze, he recalled that Bella had done just that. Her Cruciatus had all but annihilated the Longbottoms' mental faculties, leaving them empty shells, barely able to manage the basest of living functions.
With a loud cackle, Bella ended her magical assault, her wand's end pressed harshly into the soft hollow of his throat. Once again she interrogated and once again she found the answer unconvincing. Draco's head throbbed, no doubt from the bits of hair the deranged witch had ripped from his head. His body shivered uncontrollably as the aftereffects raced through his veins. Only the coolness of the dark, tiled floor provide any semblance of relief. A relief that was promptly stolen when a glint of polished silver caught his eye. He groaned, remembering. A cursed blade. How could he have forgotten? Hermione had all but refused to recount the experience and he had been content not to force her to relive the moment. Alas, Cerridwen had decided that he should feel the moment for himself. A twisted sense of revenge. For the word he had so cruelly and thoughtlessly flung at her. For the word he had once felt so precisely described as her place in the world. For the word that had essentially built an entire belief system that spurred a magical war full of blood and torture. He, a pureblood of the Sacred 28 and one of the most ancient lines of magical families, would endure the curse he had given so freely to others.
Bella cooed with motherly affection over the monstrous device, stroking the blade and murmuring of its lethal power. His arm was jerked painfully outward and with a final surge of energy, he attempted to escape from Bella's movements. It wasn't to be, his body too drained from the Cruciatus and solidly wedged beneath the weight of his aunt. A strangled sob escaped his lips as the inevitable blade sang across his skin.
Vocal cords snapped. Muscles tore. It all burned.
Meanwhile, Bella screamed and demanded, but Draco barely heard her. Pleas to stop rasping like cracked autumn leaves echoed from his damaged throat. Yet, in truth, Draco wished for death in that moment. Pain and hopelessness filled his world, consumed him. That day he had stood by in the next room over, listening to her ragged cries without moving a muscle. Sure, he had felt a pang of remorse and even some measure of guilt, but had done nothing regardless of any pity he had drummed up. He had, at most, commiserated their somewhat similar situations. Even when she had been left by the brainless duo at Malfoy Manor, his initial thoughts were that he had been burdened with her. Draco felt so utterly ashamed as he was once again reminded of his complete worthlessness of the awe-inspiring goddess-witch he had so ruthlessly treated. Yes, death was what he deserved to atone for his sins. He barely noticed that Bella had heaved him upright, pressing the cursed blade to his throat. Nor did he notice the spells racing through the air or even when he was thrown carelessly to the side, a dull crack echoing. He was vaguely aware of voices shouting and the thundering of shattered glass, spraying across his face and leaving many stinging cuts across every inch of visible skin. No, he deserved this pain. He deserved this death if it meant that she might survive. His body lay broken and bleeding, his magical all but drained trying to fight for semblance of existence. He watched with a grim sort of satisfaction as Bella released a guttural howl. As a single tear carved a track down his bloody and grime covered cheek, Draco gave a final shuddering breath with a single plea to Cerridwen.
Let my life be in payment for hers for she is worth everything to me.