Hogwarts castle was used to silence. Usually during the night everything would go still, quiet filling the empty space only to be disturbed by pacing teachers or disobedient students. During the summer the castle was mostly empty, and during the holidays very few students remained on the campus. After the Final Battle there had been long, extended days of silent mourning, only punctuated by tears and mournful music. Hogwarts was no stranger to silence, but the quiet that filled its cavernous halls that evening was tense, emotional, and altogether foreign to the castle. One of its students was in danger, and it couldn't help her.
Draco had just left the eighth-year dormitory and was walking at a brisk pace down the changing stairways, his boot heels making loud clicking noises on the stone floors. As he walked, he finished doing up the laces on his leather greaves, securing them into place on his forearms. With the arm-protection fastened, Draco was dressed for battle; wearing simple black dueling pants and a loose white shirt as a base layer, he had chosen to don his black dragon hide vest and matching greaves as well as his black dragon hide boots. Inside of these deceptively harmless shoes Draco had three different daggers concealed, each one dipped in a different poison. Beneath his right greave the blonde had hidden a second wand should the wand he now held in his arm-holster be stolen from him or broken. His hair wasn't slicked back or hanging loose; rather, he'd used a lengthening charm to manage conveniently tying his hair into a ponytail, keeping it in place with a strip of charmed extendable leather. He'd once seen his Aunt Bellatrix turn her leather hair tie into a noose, using it to strangle a muggle-born wizard. If she can use it for evil purposes, can't I use it for good?
Most importantly, however, Draco had wrapped Hermione's scarf around his neck. Not caring that it could be used against him in hand-to-hand combat or that spells could catch on the loose ends, the blonde was determined to take it with him into battle. She might need it, he thought, attempting to justify his sentimentality with logic.
As Draco walked down the final set of stairs, he was joined by Harry and the Weasley walking from the direction of the quidditch pitch. Ron was wearing more traditional dueling robes that concealed most of his battle-gear, however Harry was dressed similarly to Draco. Greeting the two approaching boys with a curt, silent nod, Draco fell in step beside them and turned towards the doors of the school. Ron looked at the scarf around Draco's neck and gave the blonde a long, puzzled look.
"So, we're going to the house in Devon?" Harry asked quietly, his voice low.
Draco knew that Harry knew perfectly well that they'd chosen to go to the mansion in Devon, as the building was the oldest, most pretentious Malfoy residence other than Malfoy Manor itself. It also has dungeons that would likely suit Lucius' purposes. Draco shuddered, pushing that thought from his mind. The black-haired boy was obviously just trying to ease the seemingly-unbreakable tension that had settled over the entire castle.
"Neville has the portkey?" Ron asked, his eyes flicking from Draco's face back down to the scarf.
"He should," Draco responded shortly.
Ron nodded. "Good."
The three proceeded in silence through the school doors and out onto the grounds, passing the intimidating wrought-iron gates that protected Hogwarts from unwanted visitors. The late-evening sun was just disappearing into the Black Lake, and Draco watched it with a sinking feeling. Can Hermione see the sunset? Is she still alright? Have we wasted too much time?
When they arrived, Neville and Luna were already waiting for them. After much persuasion from Harry, McGonagall and Flitwick had agreed that it would be best to let the students attempt the rescue mission alone – that is, as long as Harry carried a pendant that would send an instant distress call to the teachers should the young adults run into trouble.
Draco watched Harry fiddle with the strange pendant around his neck, his attention focused on something that Draco couldn't see. They were both jolted out of their reveries when Neville cleared his throat. "Are we all ready?" he asked, holding out a hole-riddled woolen sock.
"We should be," Luna said, tightening her ponytail and straightening out her dueling robes.
"Alright then," Harry started, "on the count of three -"
"NO!" a voice cried out, and the four students whipped around immediately, wands drawn.
Draco noticed Harry's shoulders slump as he recognized the speeding mass of red hair coming down the hill towards them. "Ginny," Draco heard Ron mutter. "Bloody hell…"
"Take me with you!" the young girl cried out, frantically pulling her hair back and fastening the sides of her vest.
"Ginny," Harry said slowly, placing his hands on his girlfriend's shoulders to stop her movement, "you're staying here."
"I am not!" Ginny said firmly, pushing Harry back. "Hermione is my friend too, you can't expect me to stay back here and wait, not knowing about her, or you…"
She trailed off, trying to conceal the sudden tears that had sprung into her eyes. Unable to hide her emotions from her boyfriend, however, Harry placed a hand on her cheek. She let his hand rest there, her head leaning slightly into the warm presence. "Gin," he said softly, his thumb running from her ear down to her chin. "Please stay here and stay safe, for me. I couldn't fight properly, worrying about you."
"But now I have to worry," Ginny said miserably, placing her hand over Harry's. "I'm always the one left behind to worry while the people I love risk their lives."
"Hush," Harry whispered, resting his nose on her forehead. "Don't worry for me. We'll be fine, I promise."
Looking down at his girlfriend, Harry tilted her chin up so that she met his eyes. Without saying another word, the two joined for a passionate kiss, Ginny throwing her arms around Harry's shoulders.
A sudden pain sparked through Draco's chest and he looked away quickly. It's a private moment, not fit for me to see, he said to himself, placing a hand over his hole-shaped-heart. His brain immediately sent him images of Hermione, and how she looked as he leant over to kiss her, and how her eyes filled up with trust and that other emotion he couldn't quite name, and how her lips – stop it! he snapped at himself. Get a grip, Malfoy.
He was brought back into reality when Luna tapped his shoulder. "She'll be fine Draco," the blonde said, her blue eyes looking openly up at the Slytherin. "You'll be with her again soon."
Nodding and taking a deep breath, Draco smiled slightly before turning back to look at the still-embracing couple. "Be careful," Ginny sniffed, giving Harry one last kiss on the cheek. Faking bravery, she smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "If you don't come back, I'll be forced to launch a rescue mission for you."
Harry laughed lightly, trying to make the girl feel better. "We can't have that now, can we?" he said forcedly, giving her forehead a final kiss before pulling away.
This time it was Ron who cleared his throat. "Well, um, now that that's over and done with, are we ready?" he asked, gesturing to Neville who was still holding the portkey.
When all four students nodded, Neville closed his eyes. Draco lifted Hermione's scarf, covering his mouth and nose with the soft, still-scented fabric
"One…."
We're coming Hermione.
"Two…."
Hold on a bit longer.
"Three!"
HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM
When Hermione awoke, her world was a blur of pain. Her head was pounding, and every breath she took sent sharp stabs of agony through her chest. Coppery blood still filled her mouth, and her tongue revealed that there were several broken edges to her teeth that hadn't been there before. Lifting her hand hesitantly, she hissed as the small movement caused her shattered collarbone to shift slightly. She pushed through the hurt, however, and reached up to touch her head; Broken ribs I can handle, but a concussion….
Her fingertips ran lightly over the top of her head, feeling her normally uncooperative hair part easily under her hands. On the left side of her forehead - right where Lucius Malfoy had kicked her – Hermione's fingers came away sticky with blood and she winced. After a few more seconds of painful exploration the witch determined that the wound was primarily superficial, but that the headache she had now wasn't likely to go away anytime soon. Brilliant. This is all just so damn brilliant.
Frustrated, Hermione let out a groan and slowly attempted to roll onto her back. Every millimeter of movement was a triumph, and by the time she lay flat on her back she was seeing spots. I probably punctured a lung, she thought dizzily, closing her eyes. No, I didn't puncture a lung, effing Lucius Malfoy punctured my lung for me. What a bloody gentleman.
A flood of angry determination filled her, and Hermione moved both of her ankles in slow circles. Her left angle twinged slightly when she moved it, but overall Hermione didn't feel too much pain. It seems like my legs are still alright, she thought optimistically. I can still run! That is, I could if I could get out of this godforsaken prison...
Hell, would it kill Malfoy to put a heating charm on this room? It's bloody freezing!
Slowly moving her hands from her sides towards her pockets, Hermione felt the pain in her collarbone dull into an ever-present ache. With her hands successfully inside her pockets, Hermione began rubbing her fingers together slowly in an attempt to warm them up. Suddenly, her right hand brushed against something cold and metal. Immediately reacting by jerking away, Hermione let out a strangled hiss as her vision once again went blurry.
This time moving much more cautiously, Hermione pushed her hand once again into her pocket and found the metal. Bringing the unknown object out of her pocket and in front of her eyes, she tried to identify what it was. Damn, it's so dark!
Running her fingertips over it, Hermione gasped when her pointer finger ran over what felt like a raised circle. My dorm key! she thought excitedly, her heart soaring. Could it...? No, no it couldn't….but I should try, right?
Despite the fact that she felt like a prize idiot, Hermione slowly dragged herself across the room towards the door. She was breathing raggedly, her vision clouded with a red mist, but she pushed through it; I've faced worse, right? she thought to herself. I mean, the Final Battle –
-she moved herself an inch-
-being petrified-
-another inch-
-being attacked by a werewolf-
-inch-
-camping in the woods for bloody months with no hot water showers-
-inch-
And so the process continued until Hermione was over by the door. Her collarbone shrieking with pain as she pushed herself into a sitting position, Hermione had to stop for several long moments to catch her breath. Reaching up hesitantly with her right hand, she tentatively located the keyhole once again. The dorm key still clutched in her death grip, Hermione pushed her other hand up to the door. Fumbling slightly, she shoved the small key into the large, clearly charmed lock.
Nothing happened.
Not knowing why this failure bothered her so much, Hermione blinked back tears as she sagged against the door. "What do I do now?" she said aloud, her voice hoarse and rough.
As if in answer to her question, a high pitched note filled the cell. Turning her head slowly to look at the keyhole, Hermione could barely believe her eyes; the blue gem on her dorm key was glowing! What the hell did you do to my key, Draco? she thought gratefully, her lips curving up in a bloody smile.
The glow from the sapphire spread over the rest of the key, infusing the thin silver with light. The delicately formed iron stars started to shine brightly as well, illuminating the key in a perfect replication of the night sky above Hogwarts. Watching the key intently, Hermione felt a pang of something in her chest, as if a small shard of glass were twisting inside her heart. This hurt, however, was unlike her physical pain; instead, it was purely emotional, pointing out a longing and sadness that Hermione didn't realize she had inside herself. Was it an ache for home? Hogwarts? Harry? Yes, her mind whispered. And Draco.
As she watched, the key glowed brighter and brighter until Hermione had to shield her eyes from the light. With a quiet 'pop', the glow was immediately snuffed out and the smell of oranges drifted through the air around her. Well….that was interesting, Hermione thought, blinking repeatedly to regain her night vision. What happens now?
Sighing, Hermione rested her weight back against the door. She was taken entirely by surprise when she heard a load creak and the thick wood actually shifted behind her, her balance going haywire and her less-injured left arm immediately reaching down to stop her fall. The resulting hurt from that action was blinding, and pulses of intense pain originating at her collarbone wracked Hermione's body.
When the moment had passed, the witch hesitantly opened her eyes, holding her arm to her sternum as if to prevent it from moving. What she saw almost made her burst into relieved tears; the door was opened, torchlight from a dank, musty hallway illuminating Hermione's world once more. She looked up at the lock just above her head, only to see that her once-beautiful room key was now a misshapen lump of silver metal jammed into Lucius' dungeon lock. I wonder if the lock is expensive to replace, Hermione thought maliciously, a wicked grin flitting across her features. I'd hate for Lucius to be inconvenienced when repairing his dungeons.
Biting her lip to brace herself for the pain that she knew was coming, Hermione put all of her weight on her feet and pushed herself up. She calmed her breathing and heart rate for a few moments, leaning heavily against the doorframe and willing her collarbone, head, and lungs to stop hurting. As soon as her world stopped spinning and the pain dulled to an only somewhat-blinding pulse, Hermione opened her eyes and looked around; There's light to my left, she observed, let's start that way, shall we? Bloody hell, Hermione, who's 'we'? It's only you.
She would have shaken her head if she hadn't been concerned that the action would cause her to faint. Taking a final deep breath, Hermione began slowly walking to her left, getting closer and closer to a weak source of seemingly-natural light that conflicted harshly with the torchlight. Brief shots of pain occasionally moved from her collarbone or head through her body, causing her shallow breathing to falter, but Hermione pushed onwards, determined to leave her black prison.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she reached an open doorframe that was letting light into the dungeon hallway. There was a pair of rusty, empty hinges on the left side of the door, with slivers of rotten wood clinging to the cold metal. Hermione's brow furrowed. Obviously no one's really lived here for a while if the doors have managed to rot away with no one noticing….
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps caused Hermione's thoughts to come to a screeching halt. Not knowing who might be coming, or whether or not they were there to check on her, she pressed herself up against a part of the hallway wall that was poorly illuminated by the surrounding torches. With a quick puff of air that caused another spasm of pain, Hermione blew out the torch nearest to her and listened to the footsteps come closer and closer. Voices floated over the air.
"….mudblood bitch?" Unaffected by the male voice's language, the wheels in Hermione's head started turning.
Lower class British male, most likely from West England. Slight lisp. Young sounding, possibly early twenties or teens.
"Nah, she's fine – apparently Lucius beat her up pretty good, she's not going anywhere."
Male. Also lower class, but this sounds different…Welsh, maybe? Most likely still young-ish, possibly early- or mid-thirties.
"But Lucius said that we're supposed to check on her!" the young voice said again, whining slightly.
The footsteps were very close by now, just outside of the empty doorway. Hermione held her breath painfully, keeping her eyes open. Two figures stopped just inside of the doorway, the last few torches distorting their features and shadows.
"Listen," the short, bigger shadow said, obviously irritated. "You're new. You don't get it – calm down, a'right?"
So the old voice is the short one, which means that the tall awkward one is younger, Hermione thought, her logic helping keep her emotions under control. Who the hell are these people? Answering her question, the tall figure turned his head slightly and caused torchlight to reflect off of a shiny, silver surface that covered his face. Hermione's blood ran cold. Death Eaters.
The young one started up again: "But Lucius said -"
"Shaddup, will ya?" the older death eater barked, smacking the young one upside the head. "Blimey, if you're going to whine all day we'll go check on the squib, alright?"
The younger figure straightened up significantly at that remark. "Is she really Hermione Granger?" he asked, tilting his head.
Grunting, the older man shrugged. "'S far as I know. Not like I've ever met her in person, but she looks like the girl from the papers."
The pair took the first few steps into the hallway, and Hermione felt her heart sink. Frantically looking to either side for potential weapons, her hopes fell even further. I'm done, she thought determinedly. But I won't go down without a fight.
Realistically she knew that in her state no fight would go in her favour, but at least she might be able to give the two men some bruises, or scratch their faces, or something. I have to try.
The men came closer and closer to her hiding place, now walking in silence. Readying herself for the best struggle she could possibly give, Hermione painfully bent her knees and flexed her left arm. However, just as the men were about to pass the last dim torchlight circle before Hermione, a loud wailing noise filled the hallway.
"Damn!" the older death eater shouted, lifting his mask off his face.
The younger one looked confused, glancing between the doorframe and further down the hallway where Hermione's cell was located. "But…we….uh…"
"Let's move!" the fat one yelled, pulling the young one back out of the hallway by the front of his robes. "Someone's gotten past the wards!"
Hermione let out a painful breath as she watched the men round the corner and dash away into the light, leaving her alone. Smiling weakly, she slid along the edge of the hallway and watched as four other death eaters ran past the opening to the dungeons. Checking that the coast was clear, Hermione turned out into what she now realized was the large entrance hall of some sort of mansion. Leave it to Lucius to lay low in a frickin' castle, she thought bitterly, pushing herself along the wall towards a side door.
Using her foot instead of her hands, Hermione pushed the old door open and grinned as pale, autumn sunlight hit her face. She took a step outside, relishing the feeling of grass under her feet and wind playing with her hair, relieved that she was no longer stuck in the dark disgusting dungeon.
As Hermione took a step away from the door, she heard a creak behind her. Turning her head as quickly as she could, her eyes grew wide. Oh no. Nonononononono.
Right behind her was a very angry, windblown, battle-dirty, eyes-blazing Lucius Malfoy. "You filthy mudblood!" he hissed through his teeth, drawing his wand out of his pocket. "You think you can run? You think your friends are going to save you?"
On his last word, Lucius lunged forward, reaching for the front of Hermione's robe. Painfully, the witch shifted away and started running. Her heart pounding, head throbbing, collarbone shrieking in pain, and her lungs working at over-capacity, she knew that she couldn't keep running for much longer. But I have to try.
Her body betrayed her. After she'd only been running for a dozen seconds, Hermione's legs gave out and she fell to the ground. Moments later, she felt a cold hand on her back; Lucius had caught up. "Let go of me!" she shrieked, turning and clawing at his un-masked face.
Lucius let out a pained yell, but refused to let go of Hermione even as blood oozed down his face from the scratches her nails had made. "You're coming with me!" he said, yanking her robes and causing Hermione to whimper from the pain in her collarbone and ribs. "And you will come quietly!"
Wheezing, on the verge of collapse, Hermione steeled her expression and straightened her back. Looking straight into Lucius' dirty-grey eyes, she shook her head slowly.
A crashing noise to her right caused Hermione to look away from Lucius, and what she saw brought her heart soaring and sent it into a free-fall at the same time; a dirty, tired, but safe Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her, wand drawn, chest heaving, her Harrod's scarf wrapped around his neck. Brown eyes clouded with pain met blue, and the fear in Draco's eyes caused Hermione's stomach to lurch. Fear for me? For himself? But there's more than fear there….is that pride?
Behind her, Hermione heard Lucius chuckle as he adjusted his grip on Hermione so that he had his arm around her throat and his wand pointed at the wound on her head. "Why darling Draco," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and malice. "Come to pay your father a visit? How kind." Draco's eyes narrowed, his wand still at the ready, but he didn't cast any spells. Hermione's heart sank. He can't do it, she thought. He's not that kind of person.
Lucius continued: "Unfortunately, we were just leaving. Lovely to see you, son. Drop by again soon. Actually, on second thought, there's no need."
And before Draco could so much as flinch, Lucius disapparated with a 'crack', taking Hermione with him and leaving her with the image of an angry, exhausted, and determined looking Draco staring into her eyes. He'll come for me, she thought just before she descended once more into blackness.
A/N: Sorry that it's late, everyone! Hopefully it's up to par though, and you can all still enjoy it. My deepest, most sincere apologies once again. I'm hesitant to put a date on my next chapter release, just 'cause these next two weeks are insanely ridiculously stupidly busy for me. I can probably safely say that before December 1st I'll have at least one other chapter finished and posted. Please continue to R&R, your support and opinions are always appreciated!
By the way, a shout-out to any Californian readers; I finished this last chapter while at a conference at Stanford University, and loved the Cali weather and hopsitality! :)
~sneakyslytherin