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Chapter 25: The Punishment

"Draco, please get up," Narcissa Malfoy whispered. Draco did not reply. He leaned against the wall between the dining room and the hallway.

"Draco," a harsher voice commanded. Draco slowly got to his feet at the sound of his father's voice. When he was upright, he stared at his father's haggard and unshaven face and his mother's worried one through his swollen eyes. "Draco," Lucius began again, but Narcissa shushed him.

"Come on, Draco," Narcissa said, placing her hand on Draco's back and leading him up the staircase. He walked up the staircase like a puppet, placing one foot on each step every time his mother did. He walked with his head bowed, his hair hanging in front of his face like a blond curtain. When they reached his room, his mother opened the door and he stepped inside. He sank into the mahogany chair by the window, the emerald green pillow on it crushed under his weight. Narcissa made a move to speak, but seemed to think better of it. She closed the door behind her as she stepped out of the room.

Draco raised his head slightly to look out the window. A dense mist hung over the gardens, and the sky had darkened. He didn't know what to do. He felt weak and broken. He stared out the window until the sky had blackened and was sprinkled with stars. He did not get up until there was a knock at the door.

When Draco did not respond, his father stepped into the room. "Draco," he began.

"No!" Draco cried, getting to his feet. "No! I don't care what you have to say! It's your fault I had to do this! All your fault! I don't care if you're disappointed!" Rage was bubbling up inside of him, and after threatening to spill over for the entire year, Draco was finally able to give his father a piece of his mind.

"You ruined my life!" Draco went on. "I didn't want to become a Death Eater," Draco said trying to keep his voice level. Now, his teeth were clenched, and his hands were in fists. He approached his father with small, stiff steps. "It's because of you that I am one now and that Mother and I might have been dead by now if I hadn't managed to fix that stupid Vanishing Cabinet! But you wouldn't know that, would you? You were safe in Azkaban!"

Lucius Malfoy looked stunned. Draco stood in front of him, his chest heaving, glad to have finally gotten to yell at his father. He stared his father in the face, watching rage flicker over the old, worn face. Lucius's nostrils flared. He raised a hand and slapped Draco across the face.

Draco stood still for a moment, shocked. His father had hit him before, but this time, it was different. Draco felt that this time, it wasn't him who had done anything wrong. Because he hadn't. His father had. Draco whipped out his wand and pointed it at his father.

Lucius smirked. "You can't use magic. You're not seventeen. The Ministry will be after you in a heartbeat."

"Yeah?" Draco retorted. "Well, if they do come by and see you here, they'll take you back to Azkaban right away!"

Lucius stared at Draco for a moment before striding out of the room with a swish of his cloak. Draco stood seething as he stared at the dark brown door adorned with stickers of Quidditch players that he had stuck there as a five-year-old. He couldn't believe what his father had done. Draco sank down onto his bed, dropping his head into his hands.

A few minutes later, his mother stepped into the room. She didn't say anything, and instead walked over and sat next to him on the bed and placed an arm around his shoulders.

"Draco, I'm so sorry," she said softly.

"No, I'm sorry," Draco said. "I messed up."

"No you didn't," his mother replied. "I'm sorry, I should have tried to stop them from..."

"How would you have done that?" Draco asked quietly.

"I don't know," Narcissa replied, her voice quavering. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Mother, please don't..." Draco wrapped an arm around his mother's shoulders. Tears were sliding down her face now, leaving glistening trails of sadness across her face.

"I'm so, so sorry," she whispered.

Draco did not say anything and instead sat in silence, wondering how much longer it was before the Dark Lord came by and killed him.

A quarter of an hour had passed before yet another visitor entered Draco's room. It was Snape.

"He has arrived," Snape said simply, holding the door open and watching Draco and Narcissa slowly get up and walk past him. Draco held his mother's hand tightly.

When they reached the dining room, they found a group of Death Eaters clustered in one corner. Voldemort was standing in front of the fireplace with his back to the rest of the room's occupants, his silhouetted hand stroking the snake draped around his neck.

Draco stood facing the fireplace with his hands behind his back and his jaw tight. It was a moment before Voldemort spoke.

"Hello, Draco," Voldemort said in his horribly cold and clear voice. "How are you?"

"Fine," Draco said through clenched teeth.

"Really?" Voldemort asked as though he were mildly amused. "Are you sure?"

"Yes..." Draco said hesitantly.

Voldemort looked back at Draco over his shoulder. "Not feeling sorry for what you did?"

Draco fought the urge to say "no".

"I am sorry, my Lord," he said stiffly. Why was Voldemort prolonging his death?

Voldemort turned to face Draco. "Yes," he said softly. "You should be sorry. You did fail to complete your task." The hiss in his voice seemed to echo around the room.

Voldemort took a step toward the portrait hanging on the wall next to the fireplace, his bare feet sliding across the carpet.

"Draco," Voldemort continued. "You did not complete your task. Lord Voldemort is not pleased with you."

Draco was silent.

"However," Voldemort went on. "The job was finished, even if not by you. If it weren't for you, would the task have ever been completed? Draco?"

"No, my Lord," Draco said. He was worried now.

"Ah, Draco," Voldemort chuckled. "I sense your fear. But do not worry. I am not going to kill you."

Draco let out a small huff of relief.

"I am, however," Voldemort said. "Going to have to punish you."

"My Lord?" Draco asked, fear creeping back into his voice.

"Yes," Voldemort whispered. "A few hits of the Cruciatus Curse will do, don't you think?"

"I-" Draco began. But he was cut off by the sensation of extreme pain that had sliced through him as soon as Voldemort had raised his wand. He screamed, and fell to the ground. He was hit once again.

After the third spell, Draco collapsed in a heap on the dining room carpet. He lifted his head slightly to see Voldemort standing over him.

"No more mistakes now, Draco, you see?" Voldemort whispered. Draco moved his head in a small movement of assent. "Good," Voldemort hissed. He stepped away from Draco and swept from the room. Before he left though, he turned back and said, "I'm surprised Lucius never used the Cruciatus Curse on you before, Draco."

Draco turned his head to watch an expression of fear cross over his father's face as his mother rushed over to him.

"Oh, Draco," Narcissa whispered as she rolled Draco over so he was on his back. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Draco muttered, still glaring at his father. It took Draco a few minutes to finally sit up. When he finally managed to, his mother threw her arms around him and started sobbing."Mother, I'm fine," Draco assured her. It was a lie. His body ached and he felt sick. "Can I go to my room now?"

Narcissa nodded and helped Draco stand up. She watched him climb up the staircase shakily. When Draco finally reached his room, he threw himself onto the bed and felt tears slide down his face. It was a few minutes before he noticed something poking his stomach. He rolled over and reached into the pocket of his robes in which Hermione had placed something. He groped around in his pocket and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. There was nothing written on the cover.

Draco opened the book and flipped past the first blank, cream-colored page. On the next page was a letter, neatly written in Hermione's small print.

Dear Draco,

I hope that, by the time that you are reading this letter, you have managed to keep yourself alive. I also hope that you have forgiven me. If you haven't, I hope you will someday.

I want you to know that I am truly sorry for everything I did to you. I do realize that you are sorry as well and that you really are not a Death Eater.

I hope you are safe. If you're not, maybe you'll find solace in the fact that I'm not safe right now either. In fact, I might die. I will not be selfish and go on about how scared I am of dying; you're in the same situation right now. In fact, you're in even graver danger than I'm in.

I missed you. I still do. I hope that someday, I can see you again. But I know that's not possible right now. But I can still talk to you.

Unfortunately, it will be impossible to send me any letters over the course of maybe the next year or two. However, I have a copy of the notebook you are reading right now. I placed the Protean Charm on the two, so you can write to me anytime. I won't bother explaining the charm because I already know you can do it. You're a brilliant wizard.

Again, I hope you forgive me. I still love you. I miss you. I hope to hear from you soon. But if I don't, I understand. You deserve to be upset with me.

Sincerely,

Hermione Jean Granger

Draco stared at the letter in disbelief. He felt his heart swell with joy. He could still talk to Hermione. He hadn't lost her. He had forgiven her.

He got up and eagerly began searching for a quill. When he found one, he sat down at his desk and held the quill over the next blank page in the notebook.

Dear Hermione, He wrote.

I hope you're well. I would like you to know that I forgive you. I

Draco lifted his quill from the page without completing his sentence. He had forgiven Hermione, but some part of him still resented her for what she had done. He could not write any more than that. He placed the quill down on the desk and closed the notebook. Draco stood up and placed the notebook in his bedside drawer. He then changed out of his robes and climbed into bed feeling very tired. He waited eagerly for an answer for Hermione all night. It was a while before he got one.