A/N: I am soooo sorry for the lack of update! I've been missing a lot of school lately due to sports, and it's been a pain to catch up and very stressful. Hopefully the next update will come out sooner! Sorry, guys!

Thanks for reviewing: alosercanwin, Treacherous Darkness, and dizzydazzle! Thanks, guys! Your reviews keep me going!

Disclaimer: I have not recently bought Harry Potter, so I don't own it.

Warning: There are mentions of rape. I kept it PG-13 with as little details as possible and never outright said it was rape, but it's there.

Chapter 3: Make It Go Away

Draco couldn't sleep that night. He kept picturing a faceless man entering Hermione's cell and doing things that even he shuddered to think about. Yes, he was a teenage boy…but defenseless prisoners? It was repulsive. Even he thought it was nauseating.

After a long few minutes where Draco quarreled with himself, he rose from his bed and threw off his covers. He dressed quickly and quietly and walked slowly down the many winding hallways, finally coming to the front door and exiting, drinking in the midnight sky. He trudged through the gates to his manor determinedly, and then turned and Disapparated with a pop, his destination set firmly in his mind.

Once safely in Azkaban after passing through the guards, Draco marched up the many staircases to the floor Hermione's cell was on, his shoulders back and a furiously intimidating look on his face. He was being foolish, he assured himself. He would not catch anyone. They would not do it right after the Dark Lord's warnings. But, he reasoned with himself, here in the night he could tell Hermione about their second year at Hogwarts without being interrupted. He doubted Voldemort had placed guards around her cell, because if he had, they would have been told. And even if there were guards, he would just say that he was coming on orders to check and see if she's had no more midnight visitors.

At last, Draco arrived at Hermione's room. Azkaban was no longer guarded by Dementors; Voldemort allowed them to fly around and wreak havoc in the actual world so that no one had foolish thoughts of happiness. Only a few guarded the entrance, which Draco hated. He had never liked the Dementors. With a casual wave of his wand, the door to Hermione's cell swung open, and Draco's mouth fell open.

It was the most sordid thing he had ever seen.

Hermione, naked, was cowering in the corner while a man Draco suspected to be a Snatcher stood over her, cackling, his eyes set intently upon his prey.

Without thinking twice, Draco sent the man crashing into the opposite wall with his wand. The man let out a slight oof of surprise, and got up from the ground shakily to stare at Draco in confusion. Draco, shaking with rage, flung him against the opposite wall and took two long strides to reach the man, pressing his wand tightly against the man's throat. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" He screamed, his wand hand trembling, trying to sound as if the scene in front of him was not the most bothering thing he had ever had the misfortune to witness.

The man, whether out of fear or because he was remotely intelligent, said nothing. Draco, his mind screaming he must die! He must die!, released his wand from the man's throat and pressed it against his Dark Mark. The man howled in fear, but it was too late.

A few tediously long moments passed. Draco tried not to show his dissapointment over the fact that nothing was happening. The minutes ticked away, and the only sound in the room that could be heard were Hermione's tortured whimperings, which only made Draco's insides squirm with ten times more anger. As he stared into the ugly face of Hermione's torturer, he felt that he had never known such hate as this. He held Potter above this filth. He would rather this man die now than the Dark Lord.

And finally, at long last, Bellatrix materialized out of thin air inside the cell. Draco was a bit taken aback by her sudden arrival, and that it was Bellatrix instead of Voldemort, but he wasn't complaining. He had also thought no one could Apparate inside Azkaban, but Voldemort must have sent her and somehow given her the power to do this task.

"Yes, Draco? The Dark Lord told me you called. I have come in his stead." Bellatrix sneered, tapping her long wand against the palm of her hand, her dark lidded eyes surveying the scene in front of him. Draco did not expect any sort of disgust to shine in his aunt's eyes, and she didn't disappoint. This horribly revolting act did not seem to phase her in the slightest; Draco figured she had seen worse horrors, and even enjoyed them and caused them. At last, Bellatrix's eyes rested on the Snatcher. "So you've caught the man? Well done, Draco. The Dark Lord will be proud." Bellatrix hissed, her eyes shining at the prospect that she got the priveledge to enforce some torture upon another soul.

For the first time in his life, the look of death did not bother Draco.

::

"I thank you, Draco," Voldemort said softly, looking Draco up and down. Blank mind, mind blank, "for taking it upon yourself to catch the culprit. A bit of redemption never hurts, does it?" Draco shook his head, trying not to show his outright terror, even though he knew Voldemort would probably enjoy it. The Dark Lord had arrived an hour after Bellatrix had ended the life of the Snatcher. "Yes, yes, I believe it is in order. Would you like to do a favor for me? Voldemort rewards those who assist him. I knew my most valuable Death Eater would find the culprit for me…but I admit, I did not believe it would be you."

"Yes sir," Draco obediently responded. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Normally, this would have elated him. A chance to redeem himself! But now, the memory of Hermione whimpering in fear, lying naked on the ground, was making him a bit sick. He wanted nothing more than to lie down, and perhaps vomit.

"Her 'death' is set," Voldemort said, flicking his wand in the general direction of Hermione's cell. "I would like you to go to the funeral for me, and see if our dear friend Mr. Potter goes. I want you to take in their reactions, view how much security he has, and see if they believe her to be truly dead. We must know if they believe it."

Draco felt that this was a mission he would normally have anyway, but he said nothing, because doing so would be rewarded with instant death. "Yes, my Lord. When?"

"One of my informants tells me it is at noon, tomorrow."

"You already made them believe she's dead?" Draco blurted out, and instantly regretted it, fear striking his heart and flitting across his face. He could actually feel his own face grow even more pale, and the room suddenly seemed much colder. "Er, I mean-"

"Yes, I have. Did you not catch the Prophet today?" And with a characteristically evil grin, Voldemort said, "goodbye, Draco. I expect a full report tomorrow."

Draco bowed deeply. After Voldemort had disappeared, and Draco was sure he wouldn't suddenly appear back in front of him (which would most likely make him drop dead of a heart attack), he sprinted as fast as he could to the meeting room. Draco grabbed the edge of a wastebasket and dumped it over, rifling through the contents in a frenzied search, finally coming upon his much needed confirmation: the Daily Prophet. The headline did nothing to make his already sick stomach any better.

HERMIONE GRANGER DEAD

It is to our great regret that we must announce the search for Hermione Granger, 19, has come to an end. Her broken wand was deliberately placed in an area Aurors were searching, and not too far away was her body.

Vaguely, Draco wondered if a Death Eater had used Polyjuice Potion to disguise what was most likely a normal Muggle. But that would only last an hour, so he figured it must be some type of complex spell or potion.

Hermione Granger was a talented young witch who was the best in her year while she attended Hogwarts. She was captured in her parents' home, where Death Eaters mercilessly killed Mrs. and Mr. Granger and took the teenage witch. They then tried to ransom Hermione for Harry Potter, but the Ministry would not have it. They believed that Harry Potter was far too valuable. That, sadly, has resulted in the death of a young girl, whom was Potter's best friend.

The funeral service will be held in a cemetery outside her parents' home…

Draco set down the Prophet, but then, thinking twice, picked it back up. He walked all the way back to Hermione's cell, and entered slowly. Hermione still lay in the corner, her rags of clothes lain over herself (Draco had a sickening feeling of relief that she still had enough sense to feel the need to cover herself), but she didn't look as frightened when he came in. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

"Hey," Draco mumbled. "I…I just thought I'd read this to you…" And he opened the Prophet to the front page and began to read. As he read the article about her death, Draco watched Hermione. At first, she refused to look at him. She would tremble in the corner, her cheek pressed against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around her rags, but as he read, she slowly would steal glances at him when she suspected he wasn't looking.

After he read the Prophet, feeling quite foolish, Draco decided to go into great detail about their second year at Hogwarts. He skipped over the part of him calling her a Mudblood; she didn't need to remember that. And, once he had finished telling about Hermione about the basilisk (his father had told him what the beast was inside the Chamber a few years ago), he decided to just go ahead and tell her about their third year. After all, this was an oppertunity, wasn't it?

After he was done telling about how Potter had come back from the Third Task screaming that the Dark Lord had returned, he looked back at her. She quickly looked away, from where she had been staring at him. "I'm going to your funeral tomorrow, you know." He muttered, staring at his hands in his lap. "I'll…I'll tell you about it."

Draco stood and shut the door behind him, but instead of leaving, he sat in front of the door with his wand out and made sure no one else was going to touch Hermione tonight.

:::

It was cold at the funeral. A light drizzle had picked up, and the wind was blowing hard. Draco wrapped his cloak around him tighter, standing towards the middle of the crowd. He had taken a potion previously that had turned his hair black and his eyes brown and given him a beard. He was quite sure he would not be recognized, and it wasn't hard to blend into the vast crowd.

At least a few thousand people had turned up for Hermione's funeral. Draco was feeling oddly guilty. A white, ornately decorated casket sat on a raised platform with white curtains around it. Draco was the only one that knew it contained some random Muggle, and he despised the feeling.

He spotted Potter and the Weasleys without much difficulty. They were standing in the front row, and Aurors were stationed around them in every possible way. Even if Voldemort had wanted to use this moment to off Potter, Draco wasn't sure if he would have been able to succeed. The protection that was being given to Potter was so obviously extravagant, that the Ministry had to have put it together. He surveyed the group out of the corner of his eye. Potter was staring fixedly ahead, his face void of all emotions. He looked…sort of dead, in a way. His eyes were blank, and he was not moving at all.

Ron Weasley, however, was having a harder time of containing his emotions. Tears slipped down his face and he was shaking, and his little sister had buried her head in his arm and was sobbing there. Draco felt an odd stab of…was that pity? No, no, it couldn't be. But he did feel a horrible urge to say something to Potter, to drop by and whisper that she was truly alive then disappear, to stop their pain, because she was alive…but only barely, she didn't even remember who they were…if she had seen them, she wouldn't recognize them…

Great bouquets of white and golden flowers were floating over the immense crowd, and Draco stared at them for a few moments to clear his head. He couldn't do anything about it…he was a servant for the Dark Lord…

Unfortunately…

The service began, and Draco ignored the words of the man who was speaking. He kept his eyes trained on Potter…it was one of the hardest things he had ever done, for images of Hermione, imprisoned, trembling, unaware, insane, kept bursting into his head, mingling with images of her at school, happy, laughing, such an insufferable know-it-all, and at the Yule Ball…Pansy had not even been able to think of a horrible thing to say to her, and neither had he, because in truth, she had not looked as bad as she normally did…that had seemed decades ago...

It seemed like years before the great crowd finally began to shuffle out at last. Draco joined them, walking behind the people sobbing and feeling so horribly that he was the only one here that knew she was alive, and he didn't even deserve to know. He looked over his shoulder once more, and saw that Potter was now sitting alone in one of the white chairs, his head in his hands, finally allowing himself to break down.

:::

It did not take long for the Dark Lord to find him and question him, and Draco had assured him that yes, it was believed, and he had great protection, and it had been one of the most despairing things he had ever seen…The latter, however, he kept to himself...

For a horrible moment as Draco sat alone in his room that night, he thought about what his own funeral would be like. No, he wouldn't even have a funeral. The Death Eaters would dump his deceased body in a pit outside of Azkaban. No one would cry for him. No one would mourn. Perhaps his mother would, if she outlived him, but that would be it. Thousands of people would not come. Flowers would not decorate his beautiful casket. He had done nothing in his life to deserve a great funeral with sobbing people. With sad people. People would celebrate of his death, that Death Eater is finally gone, they would say. No one would care.

No one would care.

A/N: Poor Draco :( Review!