Chapter 59

Draco lay prone on the floor, digging his fingernails into the stones. He arched his back and strained his neck as the pain forced his body, taught and shaking, into a spread eagle. There was nothing he could do, no position to make it more bearable, no place to hide. His screams echoed throughout the ballroom that had, only just the night before, been filled with the laughing banter of twinkling guests.

His father was being held responsible for the escaped prisoners. He could tell by the order in which they were all tortured. First, Draco and his father were made to watch his mother suffer until she had passed out from the pain, her shrieks suddenly silenced. Next Greyback, who had been guarding the prisoners, was tortured while he and his father watched in dread, knowing they were next.

Now his father watched Draco, and lastly, he would have his turn. Draco wished he could have taken the punishment for his mother. He offered and then prostrated himself before the Dark Lord, tears streaming down his face. He would have done anything to save her from the pain contorting his body right now. All his supplication earned him was an evil smile and a comment about weakness in the lap of luxury.

His father had also begged, trying to claim responsibility, saying it was his fault and his fault alone. He pleaded for Draco and Narcissa to be spared. He explained it was his idea to only station Greyback in the dungeons, and should have had more guards present.

The Dark Lord only smiled, and his red eyes gleamed down at them.

The curse stopped and the Dark Lord spoke while his muscles spasmed after the sudden release. Draco heard the words, but his brain was foggy with pain. He couldn't understand what was being said. He squeezed his eyes shut, limbs quivering violently. Curling over onto his side, he slowly hugged his knees to his chest, trembling and shaking, grinding his teeth. He couldn't remember ever being tortured this long before.

Blood pooled in his mouth; Draco must have bit his tongue at some point. He spat the blood out onto the floor so he wouldn't choke. Maybe the Dark Lord was finished with him?

He just wanted it to end, he couldn't take it anymore. His body hurt everywhere.

The Dark Lord raised his wand. Draco whimpered and braced himself.

It wouldn't help.

"Crucio!"

OOOOOOOOOOOO

I want you.

I need you inside me.

Let me suck you off.

Please.

Hermione lay in her bed at the safe house in Westchester, unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. Draco hadn't responded to any of her Galleon messages over the past few days and she was sick with worry. She had no idea what Alecto had done to him and didn't know if he and his family had been punished for the escape. When he hadn't answered her, she assumed the worst. Seesawing from furious rage and betrayal that he had lied, allowing her think the prisoners were dead, to overwhelming anxiety at the realization that he was paying for the breakout.

And Draco had aided them anyway, knowing he and his parents would be punished.

Harry and Ron had been distant and withdrawn the past few days. They had grudgingly concluded that there was nothing they could have done to save the others, and they hated themselves for it. Harry even more so, having forgotten his Portkey. They were both sullen during combat training. Harry excused himself in the afternoon and came back an hour later with red, glassy eyes. Ron vomited once. None of them were ready to discuss it. And she had no desire to face their hollow expressions. She would burst. They had no idea what had happened after she rushed them out, and they'd only feel worse.

She heaved a shuddering sigh, her thoughts flitting from Eloise's desperate cries, suddenly silenced by her wand, to the blood spurting upwards from Dedalus' neck and his silent, accepting smile.

Welcoming death.

Hermione felt sick to her stomach. She was absolutely disgusted with herself, and was sure Harry and Ron would hate her as well.

And what of Draco? She was using him, and was now directly responsible for whatever punishment he faced. It wasn't right. Nothing felt right anymore. She didn't feel capable of making decisions. She couldn't be trusted with responsibility like that. She should have thought of another way. When it came down to it, she failed under pressure.

And she wasn't a good person.

Suddenly the Galleon warmed in her pocket.

Tonight. Be gentle.

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, unable to stem the flow of her tears.

He was alive.

Draco was alive, but he was hurt. And he was hurt because of her.

Hermione Apparated to the guest room in her parents' house and waited for him, nervously pacing back and forth across the room. She entered her bedroom and chose a book. After trying and failing to read it she tossed it aside. Hermione returned to the guest room when Draco suddenly appeared, bent over and clutching his side.

She was on him at once, cupping his face with her hands, peppering him with kisses.

"Bed," he grunted.

Hermione flung the covers back and helped him lie down. The mattress creaked and he winced, turning into the pillow.

"What can I get you?"

"Nothing." Draco sounded muffled.

She climbed in next to him. "Is there something I can do? Muscle relaxant?"

His face pinched in thought. "Yeah, haven't had one today."

Immediately she crawled over him as carefully as she could, lifted the back of his shirt and pressed her wand into his lower back muscles. She bit her lip and watched the gold glow diffuse into his skin and spread throughout his body. His limbs relaxed somewhat, and he released a moaning whimper.

Hermione teared at the sound of his pain and then went under the covers facing him. His eyes were closed, and she stroked his face. A light beard grew along his cheeks and jaw. She ran her hands through his hair, massaging his scalp the way he liked and then leaned forward to lightly kiss his forehead. She felt helpless, not knowing what else she could do for him. Gently, she ran her hand over his arm and shoulder.

Draco needed time to recover. Because of her.

His breathing steadied and she thought he had fallen asleep when he spoke. "My father knows."

Hermione's hand stilled. "He knows you're spying?"

He huffed a laugh and then grimaced. "Fuck no. He knows I'm shagging someone. We won't be able to meet as often. Definitely not at night. The only reason I'm here now is because he's in worse shape than I am."

Hermione gazed at him, wondering if his mother was tortured as well, but she was afraid to ask. His eyes were closed but he continued to speak. "And I'm now engaged to Astoria Greengrass."

"Oh," she said softly, remembering that Alecto Carrow had congratulated him. "So that was the woman you were walking around with?"

She ran a finger over his cheek and jaw, feeling the unfamiliar beard. It was soft instead of prickly, much longer than he normally had at night when he saw her.

A small smile graced his features, despite his pain.

"Jealous?"

Hermione bit her lip. She shouldn't be, but she couldn't help it.

"She's very beautiful. You looked like you belonged together. In that world."

"It doesn't matter. I hate that world." Hermione trailed her eyes over his face. Every so often, Draco would wince and emit a whimper. She wished she could do more for him. "You said so yourself. I'm a tool to consolidate wealth among the pure-blood elite. None of it matters."

Even before they had fallen in love, marriage had been a sore topic with him. She reached down and clasped his hand in hers.

"You're not a tool, Draco."

He opened his eyes and stared at her, exhausted and aching. His eyes were blood shot. "It doesn't feel like it."

Hermione's throat was tight and she fought the urge to sob in front of him. "Sometimes things get worse before they get better, remember?"

He closed his eyes again. "I don't think I can handle things getting any worse."

She squeezed his hand. "We're doing this together. You and me. Your future will be what you make it."

His lips lifted in a small smile. "If Hermione Granger says so, then it must be true."

Except Kingsley wouldn't ever perform the Unbreakable Vow. He was stringing Draco along.

Hermione couldn't lie to him anymore. It was wrong. She loved him. He had just risked torture to himself and his parents to ensure she could leave with the prisoners. With everything he was doing for the Order and all he was subjecting himself to, he didn't deserve to be lied to.

She needed to come clean.

But she couldn't tell him now. Not when he was so broken.

Hermione watched him breathe in silence for a few moments, eyes still closed. Even with his scruffy beard, he looked younger and more innocent when he was half asleep.

"You and your father were…" She cleared her throat. "Tortured because of the breakout?"

Draco nodded wordlessly.

"And…" She had to know. This was a result of a decision that she made. They were her consequences to face. "And your mother?"

"Yes," he replied, and his face contorted with pain at the memory.

She tried to picture Narcissa Malfoy, hostess extraordinaire, screaming on the floor next to Draco, and shuddered. Hermione should apologize for what she had done. But would she make the same choice again knowing the consequences? The Order members would have been tortured and eventually killed, or potentially compromised like Dedalus, causing even more damage.

"I know you're not sorry," he said, releasing a pained grunt. "You don't have to be."

"I didn't think through the consequences you'd have to pay. And Harry and Ron would never have left without them." Her heart was breaking. How could he be so understanding of her now? While he was recovering from torture? "I was so angry with you at the party, that you let me think they were all dead."

Draco sighed, and shifted his arm with a wince. "I know."

Hermione lay next to him in silence and rubbed his knuckles. He looked like he was in agony, grimacing every time he moved. A lock of blond hair fell across his forehead and she gently brushed it back.

"Would you have let the Order know if it were your parents that could be tortured?"

She didn't answer. She didn't have to make that decision. But he did.

"I don't know," she replied. But that wasn't fair to him. Draco was asking her to put herself in his place, to understand him. Being forced to make impossible decisions all the time, he didn't have the luxury of saying he didn't know what to do. He had to choose, and face the consequences. "No, I don't think I would. I would choose my parents over the prisoners."

He exhaled, taking no pleasure from her answer. "This is my world now, Hermione. Serving the Dark Lord, spying for the Order."

Draco simply wanted her to understand the tight rope he walked, that's all. He had lied by omission. But then, even knowing he and his family would be tortured, he didn't try to stop them. He ensured they all got out safely by providing a distraction with his parents' speech, and then by enticing Alecto.

"I love you, Draco."

"I know."

There were no good decisions. Hermione thought of Dedalus, and squeezed her eyes shut at the memory. They were all forced to weigh one set of bad consequences against another set of bad consequences and choose. In theory, she knew that in terms of the war, the lives of the prisoners outweighed the torture her parents would suffer. But that's not how people considered the importance of their loved ones, and she couldn't expect Draco to be any different. The well-being of her parents was more important than the lives of some of the Order members that may not even affect the outcome of the war.

"Did Alecto do anything to you?"

He furrowed his brows, agitated. "Copped a feel, like always. She couldn't get me alone that night, though not for lack of trying."

Thank Merlin for small mercies.

"I choose my parents over the Order," he said with a croak. "I'll do that every time. That's why I didn't tell you about the prisoners."

"I know," she replied softly.

"You'd all die if you got caught. We wouldn't, that's why I helped. But…" he sighed. "You choose the Order over me."

Her heart ached and tears filled her eyes. "I have to."

"I know," he groaned. "I'd come, Hermione. I would. But I can't leave my parents…"

Hermione watched Draco drift off, the pained features on his face gradually softening as sleep overtook him. Eloise's desperate pleas not to abandon her rang in Hermione's ears. She pictured Dedalus again, lying down on the ground, waiting for her death blow with a sad smile.

Hermione closed her eyes as tears leaked out, wishing this war would end.

Chapter end notes:

Next up: Everyone consoling each other and then some Golden Trio Antics. You guys need a break from the angst, right?

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