Chapter 4 – Closer & Farther
Draco stood outside the Formal Hall cradling his head, platinum strands clutched in his trembling fists. Granger had been screaming for what felt like hours and even when the sounds tapered off, he knew it was simply because her vocal cords had given out on her. How much longer would his family have to endure hosting bloody tortures, merciless executions, and unspeakable cruelties? As much as he despised the bushy-haired swot, he himself had faced countless hours at the mercy of Bellatrix's madness. In response, the wounds on Draco's skin began to burn and itch. The newest set to grace his once immaculate flesh. Bellatrix had delighted in discovering that pink-wrapped toad known as Dolores Umbridge's past punishment of Potter by using the Sanguis Quill, a quill in which one's own blood provided the ink. She had demanded Umbridge hand over the gold-tipped instrument and forced Draco to write down all his spectacular failures against the Dark Lord, failures now etched painfully deep. Draco had lost count of how many times he had to vanish the blood seeping from his dress shirts. Lost in his thoughts, Draco nearly missed the tiny POP of one of their house elves.
"Master Draco," the creature squeaked out, "Madam LeStrange requests your presence in the Formal Hall."
Draco's head snapped up, irritated at having his privacy interrupted. Then he noticed the knife the elf was holding. The entire blade was covered in a glossy deep red. The yellow tea towel the elf was wearing was smeared with blood as well. Draco flinched. He had been so wrapped in his own torture that he had completely forgotten that Granger was nearby suffering the exact same fate and judging by the amount of blood in front of him, she may not even be alive. He sighed and squared his shoulders for what await him through the door.
Hermione's screams creeped down into the dungeon. Harry's eyes were squeezed shut and his hands covering his ears, trying to block out the agonizing sounds. Ron was pacing back and forth cradling an injured hand where he had punched the wall in frustration. Griphook stood silently in the far corner, as if attempting to put space between himself and the sounds echoing from above. Luna sat cross-legged on the damp floor, their eyes closed and quietly whispering under their breath. A loud clang and descending footsteps caused the group to whip their heads up in anticipation. The hope that Hermione was being returned to them was crushed when the rat-like face of Peter Pettigrew came into focus. He smiled nastily and pointed his wand towards Griphook.
"You! Goblin." Pettigrew snapped. "Bellatrix has some questions for you."
Griphook moved towards Pettigrew while carefully displaying his sharp teeth, a sign of defiance towards the soft-bodied wizard in front of him. Pettigrew's smile faltered slightly, and he raised his wand.
"No tricks goblin." He said shakily. "Up the stairs."
Griphook and Pettigrew ascended the stairs. The remaining prisoners silently looked at each other, their uneasiness growing as they realized that Hermione's screams had died. Slowly, a small smile began to grow on Luna's face. Ron stopped pacing when he noticed Luna's reaction.
"Why are you smiling you loon!?", he screamed, "They probably killed Hermione and we are next!".
Unperturbed by Rona's outburst, Luna stood and gently placed a hand on Ron's shoulder.
"Events are in motion. Can't you see?" they questioned, "Ron, you really must have that hand looked at."
Ron's eyes bulged at Luna's words. He ripped his shoulder form their touch and scoffed.
"Sure," he spat out sarcastically, "I'll let the next Death Eater I see know. They are known for their hospitality." Ron stomped away while Luna bent down to speak to Harry, who was still crouching against the wall with arms wrapped around himself tightly.
"Harry?" Luna gently urged. "Harry, I need you to listen to me. Help will come."
Harry's green eyes gazed into Luna's and slowly a scowl spread across his face.
"Help?" he muttered bitterly, "Who can help us here?"
"Help will always come to Harry Potter." Luna insisted and turned to at the dungeon bars where Peter Pettigrew was descending again. However, as he opened the dungeon door, Pettigrew went rigid and crashed to the ground. Harry, Ron, and Luna all watched as a small figure appeared from behind Pettigrew's prone body.
"Dobby!" Harry cried.
(The Formal Hall – At the same time)
Draco watched as Bellatrix screamed, shouted, stomped, and eventually cut into the goblin called Griphook. She had demanded everyone attend her interrogation of the Gringotts banker. But Draco wasn't paying attention. He was watching the small and frighteningly still body of Granger. He was searching for any sign of movement. Draco had been able to disassociate with the majority of his fellow Death Eaters' victims. Many of them had been strangers to him and Draco had become eerily accomplished at drowning out their screams. Slowly, a small lift of her chest flooded Draco with relief. He released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He briefly returned his attention to the spectacle to confirm no one had noticed his lapse of interest. His father was standing nearby, a smug and dark expression on his sharp face and his hand hovering just above his marked forearm. Draco knew his father was itching to summon the Dark Lord, hand over the Trio, and have the Malfoy name returned to its past grandeur. His mother stood next to his father, her face carefully arranged to appear simultaneously interested and bored. Draco scoffed internally. He needed to constantly drain his magic through Occluding to get the same results. Apparently, they were teaching some sort of secret magic in etiquette class that allowed you to view torture without batting an eye. Bellatrix was unhinged as ever. She was circling Griphook like a feral cat, striking and clawing for information. Draco turned back to Granger and stilled. Granger's eyes were cracked open, her gaze held fast to Draco. A single tear had slipped from those hazel-colored eyes and it cut straight to his soul. For a split-second, Draco felt his resolve crack and his magic react. It felt like those eyes were pleading him for help, begging him to reach out and take her from this. He felt himself lean forward, drawn towards her.
"No." He thought vehemently, forcing himself to shrink back. He couldn't help her. Once the Dark Lord appeared, they'd be lost and destroyed. The situation was useless. Suddenly, a flash of red appeared near the top of the stairwell to the dungeons. Draco narrowed his pale eyes and Potter's wild mane joined Weasley's.
"Why are those two out of their cage?" he wondered.
Then all hell broke loose.
Hermione lay, still unable to move, as spells begin to fly from every direction over her bloody body. The pain from the Cruciatus still wracked every muscle and every breath felt like swallowing crushed glass. She wouldn't be surprised if she had a cracked rib from trashing violently beneath Bellatrix. Flashes of light crisscrossed and splintered wood rained around her. Voices shouted and threw curses. Lucius's body went flying behind a large column. Draco had his wand raised, but Hermione was intrigued that he was only throwing defensive spells. He wasn't actively casting against Harry and Ron. Interesting. Hermione saw Harry dart over and rip Malfoy's wand from his grasp while shouting at Ron's to save Hermione. Suddenly, Hermione felt her body being dragged backwards, lifted, and a knife thrust upon her throat. Bellatrix yanked back Hermione's head and nestled her face against Hermione's cheek.
"Move and I'll slice that pretty throat of yours." Bellatrix cooed, "The Dark Lord is most interested in you."
Hermione whimpered but was distracted by the unusual sight of Dobby nimbly climbing the ornate iron chandelier anchored above them like a jungle gym.
How did Dobby manage to sneak into Malfoy Manor and what was he doing on a chandelier?
Through her narrow field of vision, she noticed Draco was also subtly observing the elf's movements. However, he was making no effort to notify anyone of what was happening. Hermione heard Bellatrix hissing at Lucius to summon the Dark Lord. Dobby situated himself at the ceiling anchor of the chandelier and began to unscrew the bolt. It produced a loud squeaking sound which caused Bellatrix to jerk and look up in confusion. This movement caused the edge of the blade to press into Hermione's skin resulting a sharp sting. She hissed in pain. There was a small metallic pop and the massive iron feature begin crashing down from above. Bellatrix screeched and threw Hermione to the side. More pain blossomed as Hermione crashed to the cold floor, her head cracking on the marble. The ground shuddered as the chandelier landed and she heard Harry scream her name. Mrs. Malfoy began to cast when a small gasp echoed, and Bellatrix growled.
"You dare steal a witch's wand!?" Bellatrix shrieked, "How dare you defy your master?!"
Hermione's heart leapt when she heard Dobby defiantly speak of his freedom and of how he would rescue Harry Potter and his friends from this evil house.
"No!" Harry cried, "What about Hermione?!"
"I'm not leaving her!" Ron roared.
"She shall survive this. She will not be abandoned. We must go now, or we will all perish." Luna proclaimed, their voice full of resolve. Hermione heard a desperate sob bounce off the spell shot walls.
A brief moment of silence filled the air followed by a WHOOSH of air and Bellatrix let out a piercing howl. She whirled around and fled the Formal Hall, wailing loudly. Hermione heard Mrs. Malfoy let out a low, exasperated sigh and address her husband.
"Dear," she quietly urged, "I suggest you prepare yourself for the Dark Lord's displeasure. I'll have the elves prepare extra vials of potion.".
"Yes, my lady." Lucius gritted out and exited the destroyed room in a swish of fabric.
"Draco," Mrs. Malfoy began, ice creeping into her voice, "Take our guest and find a room in the East Wing. I'm sure they'll come up with ways to use her to their advantage."
"Yes Mother." Malfoy replied softly. Mrs. Malfoy turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the marble floors.
Panic begin to settle in the pit of Hermione's stomach. They had left her. She felt as if her breath had been stolen. She was alone in this place. Utterly alone. Hermione's eyes darted back and forth, searching for a way to escape despite the fact that her body was still incapacitated from curses and blood loss. Malfoy's black shoes began moving in her direction and his slender face appeared above her, a tired expression etched deep in his eyes. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tears slid down her sunken cheeks as despair washed over.
"Try not to bleed everywhere." He drawled and summoned an elf, this one in a green scrap of fabric bearing a faded Malfoy Crest.
"Take her to the Beauvert Suite in East Wing." He snapped, "I'll be up there shortly."
Draco watched as the elf levitated Granger's broken body and disappeared with a small pop. As soon as the room was empty, Draco dropped to the floor as silent sobs wracked his body. His mind reeling. Harry Potter had escaped, the Dark Lord would certainly be furious and take his rage out on Draco's body again, and Granger was here. Granger. She would suffer greatly here. She would be tortured mercilessly until she begged for death. And he would have to witness it all. See her blood spilled over and over. Endure her screams. Invade her mind. Used until she was nothing but a shell and no longer served a purpose. Draco cried until tears no longer came and his breathing had returned to normal. He was surprised he could still cry after all this time. Draco stood slowly and winced. His wounds had completely reopened during the duel with Potter. He could feel the blood staining his robes. He sighed, quickly muttered a Vanishing Spell to remove the blood and tears and started the dreaded walk towards the East Wing. To a room that now contained a bushy-haired witch. A witch that was now Draco's responsibility. Draco cursed under his breath.
Hermione silently thanked the house elf for handling her so gently. The small creature had vanished her blood encrusted clothes and dressed her in a simple, cotton shift. It hadn't addressed her wounds and propped her up on a soft bed. Hermione was exhausted but the last dregs of adrenaline and constant pain kept her from completely collapsing.
"The Young Master will assist with your wounds." The creature announced and began arranging a variety of colored vials with various liquids on a nearby table. The door opened abruptly, and Draco Malfoy entered the room. Hermione recoiled, eliciting a painful protest from her ribcage.
"Quit struggling Granger." He scoffed, "It's not me you should be worried about. Besides, I'm here to heal your wounds." He walked to the side table containing the neatly arranged potions and inspected the contents of a green bottle closely.
She stilled and narrowed her eyes at Malfoy. She opened her mouth to respond but no noise came out and her throat began burning with renewed intensity. Draco snorted.
"I thought they called you the 'Brightest Witch of Our Age'," he mocked, "Obviously, they were wrong. Your vocal cords are torn from all the screaming. Take this." He uncorked the green bottle and walked to Hermione's side. Hermione eyed the bottle suspiciously.
"I'm not trying to poison you Granger. Poison should be the least of your concerns." He retorted and waited for Hermione to open her mouth.
She watched him for a second, measuring his response, and slowly opened her mouth. A cool and soothing sensation coated her throat and the splintery burning subsided. She took a deep breath and looked at Malfoy.
"Why are you healing me?" her voice scratchy and skeptical but returned, "Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't trust me." He replied, giving no further explanation, "Now take this one. It will help with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus."
Malfoy fed her several more pain potions and frowned when he observed her arm. Hermione looked down and frowned as well. It was all wrong. The cuts should have been clotting over by now, but the blood continued to bead and snake in thin rivulets. She felt her heart sink when she saw thin, angry red lines spell out 'mudblood' down her arm. In a nearly cruel parallel, the mysterious magical symbol on her wrist shimmered gently. She recalled Bellatrix's terrifying outburst at discovering the mark and she looked up at Malfoy, searching for an answer. His frown lines deepened, and something flashed in his glacial stare. Before she could consider it further, Malfoy spoke.
"Granger," he sighed deeply, "Your situation has just become must worse."
Suddenly, Malfoy gripped his forearm and hissed in pain.
"And apparently, so has mine."