Author's Note: OK, two things: 1) I am very sorry for the delay in updating – this chapter gave me a few problems, and then when I'd finished it. It seemed like the entire planet was conspiring to stop me from typing it up. So, sorry for that. 2) WOW! About all the reviews. I don't know what happened – one minute I was on 28, or something, and then the next thing I knew, I was on 42. So, thanks, guys.
HalfSlytherin/HalfAngel – sorry if you don't like cliffhangers. It just seemed to be the right place to end the chapter. Hope it hasn't completely put you off this story.
Kou Shun'u – back again! Nope, your review definitely did the trick – thanks. And, yeah, I know the game is definitely not realistic with so many people being related, but it led to the cliffhanger, so… yoink!
Aurora – me and the plot bunny fought for ages. We compromised, but not until I'd stained my mum's rug with blood…
Cailin – I will e-mail you as soon as I've posted this on FF.Net. Glad you like the story!
RinoaOHeartilly – God, I hope you didn't change your name just for me? I feel so guilty now – it was a great name, honestly, and I didn't mind typing it one bit. Yeah, Herm and Draco are battling against the odds right now. But it'll be a happy ending… unless I get a mad, insane urge to kill one of them off…
Athene Saile – mm-hmm, the apartment was discovered and broken into – but how? 'Tis very important in future chaps.
Kyrie TFR – Out-there plots are soon to be a specialty of mine – I've got something else in the works that's even more Hermione-centric than this, if that's possible. Thanks for your comments.
TKDgirl – wow, thanks. I hope this lives up to your expectations.
AndinaOfRivendell – three reviews! I'm honoured. I'm glad you like the story.
Mdemanatee – I'm glad you think it's so unique; I hate writing to a formula, so it makes me feel better that you think I haven't. Thanks for reviewing.
Jelly bean – you're becoming a regular! Hope you get my e-mail. Thanks for the review.
Eliza – what can I say? Your review was funny and positive – it made me grin like a maniac. The fact that you described my story as cool… well, my ego is still swelling up. Thanks!
Twisted Silver Dagger – another regular; you'll be ordering drinks next. Thank you very much for the complimentary review, and I hope I can continue to impress you just as much over the next few chapters.
Chapter Eight
When he first opened his eyes, he thought he was at a Muggle disco. The bright light blinded him, and he shut his eyes tight, but he could still see colours blending and dancing in front of him.
The second time he opened his eyes, he felt sure that a considerable amount of time had passed between then and the first time. There was a strange buzzing sound in his ears, but when he shook his head to get rid of it, he was overcome by a wave of head-splitting pain.
"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?"
The voice was faint behind all the buzzing. He felt a cool hand on his forehead, and then the voice was louder, right by his ear. "Harry? Please talk to me."
He struggled to sit up; he was vaguely aware of arms behind him, helping him to stand. His vision cleared - Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Draco were peering at him in concern. He could just make out Fred and George in his peripheral vision and discovered that they were supporting him. His legs gave a tiny wobble, but he gritted his teeth and held his ground.
Feeling slightly more stable than before, he glanced at his surroundings; they appeared to be in a large, bare room. The walls, ceiling and floor were a bright, glaring white, but he found that once you could make out where the corners of the room were, they seemed a little less overpowering. Faint alarm bells started ringing, which he put down to the fact that he was, clearly, no longer in Draco and Hermione's apartment. In fact, he had no idea of where he was.
"Are you feeling OK?" asked Hermione gently. "We've been trying to wake you up for twenty minutes."
"W-What happened?" he croaked, unable to dredge up anything from his memory past the beginning of the Spin-the-Bottle game.
"Death Eaters," said Draco. "Interrupted our party and knocked us out. Must have been a pretty powerful spell, because as far as we can tell, we've been unconscious for hours."
"Where are we?"
Hermione's voice was hollow and drained. "We don't know. We don't even know where everyone else is."
Harry looked around and registered with alarm that Bill, Charlie, Lupin, and Mrs and Mrs Weasley were not in the room. Some of his alarm bells switched off, and he realised he'd finally caught up with part of his brain. But there were still some ringing.... A dull ache began to throb at the base of his skull.
"We think they've been put in another room," said Draco. "Probably reckon that us kiddies won't be able to do anything without adults around."
"Even though we're 18," said Fred indignantly, gesturing to himself and George.
Harry thought about saying something to Fred about the appropriate-ness (or lack thereof) of getting worked up about minor technicalities when they were in a life-and-death situation, but decided against it. "Can't you Apparate out of here?" asked Harry.
Hermione shook her head. "I've been trying since I came round, and so has Draco, but it's not working. Probably got the same charms on it as Hogwarts."
"Could we make a Portkey out of something?" suggested Ron. He removed his shoe and held it out. "This?"
Harry was almost certain he saw a tiny bit of admiration and surprise in Draco's eyes as he took the shoe. "We could try, I suppose, but the fact that they've let us keep our wands in this room makes me think any efforts will be useless."
Immediately they all pulled out their wands and tried some minor spells. Sure enough, nothing happened. "Dammit!" shouted Hermione, throwing her wand to the floor. She rubbed her hand over her face. "How could we let this happen?"
Draco placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly and led her away to a corner of the room where they spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes. Harry strained to hear what they were saying. He caught brief snatches: "Don't blame... not your... out of here...strong... them."
They returned to the rest of the group, Hermione looking considerably less worked up. She took a deep breath and said, "There's nothing we can do right now. This is, obviously, a magic-proof cell of some sort, and unfortunately, I don't see any door or windows, do you? So it looks like escaping through both magical and non-magical means is a no-go." Harry's remaining alarm bells shut off as his brain connected with reality - that was what he'd noticed before: no windows or doors. The room was shut tight.
"What do we do, then?" asked Fred.
Draco bit his lip. "We wait."
* * *
It was strange, Harry reflected, how quickly Hermione and Draco had taken on the roles of adults, despite the presence of Fred and George, who were two years older. They delegated tasks to the group, and before long, the seven of them were walking slowly around the perimeter of the room, feeling the walls for any gaps, cracks or lines which could signify the presence of a door.
At one point, Draco gave up on the walls and flung himself on the floor, much to Hermione's somewhat strained amusement. "What on Earth are you doing?" she giggled. "There's hardly going to be a door down there."
Just then, a section of the floor just inches away from Draco's nose slid away soundlessly to reveal a stone staircase. Draco shot a smug look at Hermione, stood up and was about to approach the staircase when Harry - and everyone else - heard an unmistakeable sound: footsteps.
First there was one set of footsteps. Then another. Another another. A total of five Death Eaters ascended into the room from the staircase. Instinctively Harry reached for his wand, but remembered that it was useless.
Four of them hung back, but the fifth, obviously elected as the spokesman, stepped forward. He pointed at Hermione. "Our Master wishes to speak with you."
"No," said Draco sharply, grabbing her arm and pulling her behind him. Harry and the others immediately moved to form a protective circle, but before they'd even moved a few centimetres, they found themselves flat on their backs. Harry winced at the pain in his side as he sat up. Evidently the Death Eaters still had their powers.
One of them pulled Hermione roughly away from Draco. He started forward, about to fight, but she frowned and shook her head ever so slightly, a clear 'no'. Harry had never felt quite so helpless as he watched Hermione being led down the steps and out of sight.
* * *
Harry would remember the hour that followed as being one of the most tense and emotionally confusing hours that he had ever lived through. Draco paced the floor continually, speaking to no-one and simply barking angrily at anyone who dared approach him. Harry realised that he had no idea how Draco felt, and so he in turn felt useless. Of course he was worried and scared for Hermione, and angry at himself, but Draco... Draco loved her as Harry did not. And that meant that whatever Harry felt, Draco felt, but even more strongly. If I am in pain, Harry thought, then he must be in absolute agony.
"She's... She's got to be alive, though, right?" said Ron hesitantly at one point. "Because he thinks that he has to kill her and Draco together to use them as a weapon... right?" No-one said anything.
When, eventually, they brought her back, she was unconscious. Draco looked torn between going to her and launching himself at the Death Eaters. Harry made the choice for him; he grabbed Draco's arm and hauled him over to where Hermione lay. They crouched down next to her. Outwardly there appeared to be nothing wrong with her, apart from the fact that she was unconscious. Then, on closer inspection, Harry discovered the beginnings of a bruise on her arm, a gash on the back of her hand, and some dried blood on her lip. He hoped she had got that in a fight, because if not, and she had bitten her lip so hard that it had bled, then that would mean...
"Hermione?" Draco whispered softly. "Can you hear me? Please wake up. Come on, now." Harry was in two minds about what to do. On the one hand, he cared for his friend and wanted to be there when she woke up. But on the other hand, Draco loved her. And Harry felt that he was interrupting a deeply intimate moment - Hermione's head in Draco's lap, his hands stroking her hair as he talked to her.
She stirred slightly, but didn't open his eyes. Draco's voice became louder, more insistent. "Hermione? Wake up for me, OK? Just open your eyes."
"Snurf-er-murnhh," she mumbled, rolling over onto her side, then gasping loudly in pain. Harry guessed that there must be injuries he couldn't see, and felt a surge of anger towards Voldemort. What have you done to her, you bastard? Her eyelids fluttered open, then shut again abruptly. "Bright," she whispered.
Draco's relief was evident by his rare-but-genuine smile. He shaded her eyes with his hand. "Try now. Better?"
She nodded, then clutched her head with the pain it induced.
"How do you feel?" Harry asked, and immediately wished he hadn't. She'd just met Voldemort, after all, and who knew what he'd done to her - how did he expect her to feel?
"I'll be OK," she muttered, blinking, then promptly passed out.
* * *
By the time she came round again, the Death Eaters had been and gone for a second time, taking Draco with them this time. Hermione went into full-blown panic mode. "We have to find him. Now. We can't let them get to him like they got to-"
Curious stares fixed upon her rapidly-reddening face as she broke off. Harry had the nasty feeling that she'd been about to say 'me', but he wasn't going to push for details. "We'll find him, Herm, but first we need to get out of this room. We'll need your help for that, OK?"
She nodded, still looking upset, but less panicked than before. The six of them knelt on the floor by the 'doorway'. Or, at least, the place where they hoped the doorway was - it was hard to tell when the entire floor was the same colour and texture, and didn't seem to have any indications at all that there might be a door present.
They were on the verge of giving up, and Harry was preparing for another panic attack from Hermione, when the door slid open again. An unconscious Draco was dumped onto the floor, and the alpha Death Eater beckoned to Harry. He felt a terrible cold settle in the pit of his stomach. It was, he reflected afterwards, the wrong time to have any kind of epiphany at all, but that was what happened. As he started to walk forward, he saw a figure rise up and, swiftly, move to block his way. It was Hermione, and when she spoke, he was fascinated by the lack of panic or fear in her voice. "No," she said, "you can't have him."
This same Hermione, he reminded himself, had been about to rip the walls apart in panic only five minutes ago. But now Draco was back... she was transformed. Now she was the poster girl for powerful serenity, if there could be such a thing. And he realised... they did that to each other. They made each other strong, and powerful, and in control. He understood what Draco had meant, then, when he'd said, 'If Hermione died, it would mean a death, of sorts, for me too. But I would die inside, if you get my meaning.' Because each could not live - truly live - without the other.
The Death Eater raised his hand, but before he could do anything, she'd grabbed his wrist and, with a sharp yank, broken it. Harry and the others gasped as the Death Eater let out a howl of pain and rage. "You..." he spat, but didn't get any further - the twins launched themselved at him. The other Death Eaters started forward, but Hermione had pulled out her wand and was busy using the Stunning Spell on them. Harry, feeling somewhat confused about this sudden ability to use magic, pulled out his wans and began jinxing the nearest Death Eaters. He saw a Stunned Death Eater lying, prone, near the gaping hole at the top of the staircase and started pushing him over the edge.
To his horror, the Death Eater's hand gripped his wrist; it's hood fell back to reveal a young, toothless man with cropped brown hair and a nasty collection of scars on his face. The man grinned a horrible grin, and pulled him over the lip of the hole. They went tumbling down, rolling and bumping until they reached the bottom. Harry's head was aching again, from the number of times he'd hit it on the stairs. He could feel the pain extending through his arms and legs, and wondered absently if there was any part of him - particularly, say, a part that would one day allow him to father a child - that wasn't injured in some way. He reached for his wand, but found that it had gone; he must have lost it back in the chamber, or on the staircase. Either way, it was too late now - Toothless Man had been joined by a couple of other Death Eaters, both of whom were jabbing their wands into Harry's back, forcing him along a dank, poorly-lit corridor.
Harry's scar was prickling strongly; he could see vague movement at the end of the corridor, and realised as he got closer that it was a cluster of insects, buzzing heavily around the entrance to another room. He shuddered and pulled back instinctively, but he was tugged forward roughly again. They got closer and closer to the horde of... locusts? Harry squinted, but couldn't make it out. The horde didn't move, remaining firmly in place as a barrier. The prickling was turning into a clear, uncomfortable pain, now. Just when Harry thought that he'd be pulled right through the locust cloud, Toothless Man waved his hand and it parted cleanly in the middle, allowing them to step through.
Voldemort was waiting for them.
Silently, the Death Eaters bowed and retreated. Harry was left alone in the centre of the room; he stood his ground, and watched as his parents' murderer advanced slowly towards him. If it was possible, the pale, snakelike face looked even more gaunt that it had done previously; the red, slitted eyes more sunken. Harry couldn't help it, he just felt the words slip out. "Boy, you look like hell."
The eyes narrowed. "You are far too belligerent for your own good. The young of today are often so. Draco Malfoy, for example, used profanity, the likes of which I have not heard for a long time. But I wonder which of you rubbed off on the other, hmmm?"
Harry said nothing - he really didn't want to get himself avada kedavra-ed. At least, not before he had some answers.
Voldemort studied him intently. "Your mind disturbs me; I will admit that. You could be great, yet you spend your days acting like a fool. This... matchmaking business, for example." Still, Harry remained silent, worried though he was that Voldemort could get inside his mind so easily. "You wonder if I have a point? Of course I do. I intend to kill you. Eventually. But first of all..." he began to walk away, turning his back. Harry wondered what would happen if he tried to charge at him right now. Too late - Voldemort whirled around. "...You will tell me what you know of your Protectors."
Harry knew what was coming next. He clenched his hands into fists and felt his nails cut into his palms. Good. Maybe he could try and concentrate all the pain into those spots.
"Crucio."
No such luck. If he'd thought that his previous experience of the Cruciatus Curse would make this one more bearable, he would have been wrong. Blinding pain... shooting up and down his body, to every nerve ending he had... in those moments he forgot everything about himself and his life, about anything... all he knew was the pain.
Then it was over. He fell to his knees, briefly, but scrambled back to his feet as quick as he could.
Voldemort was chuckling mirthlessly. Harry felt the kind of anger he'd only ever associated with this... this thing. "So," said Voldemort, "what can you tell me?"
"Nothing," said Harry, and he wasn't lying. "There was a prophecy... but it's not complete. I don't know anything."
Voldemort regarded him coldly. "It seems you are not lying. Very well. I have bigger plans for you, of course, but it will do you good to worry for a while. But... before you go..."
The second crucio left him breathless and unable to stand. He very nearly vomited. Toothless Man, hood back up now, 'escorted' him back to the white room. A newly-conscious Draco, waiting by the door, gave Toothless Man a punch in the face for good measure, then pushed him down the stairs. The door slid shut. Harry surveyed the room - the Death Eaters they'd been battling before had gone; everyone was still alive, but sporting a new injury of some sort.
Hermione helped Harry sit down. Harry looked at her in concern. "How many times did he do it to you?"
She blinked several times and avoided his eyes. "How many times did he do what?"
Oh God, thought Harry. If she was avoiding the topic, she was trying to save him from something, probably guilt, and that meant... "The Cruciatus Curse," he whispered, "how many times?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't count. It's not important."
"Twice? More than twice?"
She glared at him. "Drop it! Do you want to get out of here or not? Because if you keep obsessing over silly little things like-"
"Like the bloody Cruciatus Curse? Oh, yeah, Herm, that's so silly, that is. Barely worth thinking about."
"Thinking about it will not get us out of here, and if you think I'm just going to sit around and let you get summoned by Voldemort again, then you're bloody insane. I Protect you, OK? And if that involves ignoring the Cruciatus Curse, then so be it."
Harry took a deep breath. "I'm just worried about you, Herm."
Her expression softened. "I know. I'm worried about you, too. I'm just glad he didn't knock you out."
"That's why I'm worried. He knocked you out, but not me. He crucio-ed me twice. So either I'm stronger than you, which I sincerely doubt, or-"
He didn't get to finish. Draco grabbed his arm and hauled him to the other end of the room. "Look, P- Harry," he hissed, I wouldn't go there if I were you. I got zapped six times. At least. I'm not very clear on what happened after that, and I suspect it's the same for Hermione, so please, leave it out."
Harry traipsed, subdued, back to where Hermione was sitting. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too," she said.
He offered her his hand, which she took, and he pulled her up. She glanced at the place where the door had been before. "It's a seal," she said. Harry frowned, wondering briefly if she was drunk - why else would she be telling him that a door was actually a creature of the sea? Then it hit him - obviously she was talking about the other kind of seal. She elaborated. "We figured out that surrounding this room is an anti-magic seal. It's broken, briefly, when the door is opened, and that gives us a window of time in which we can use magic. If we're ever going to escape, then would be a good time."
A thought, entirely unrelated to the topic of conversation, sprang to Harry's mind. "Draco... how did Voldemort react to you being my Protector?"
Draco frowned. "Actually, he didn't seem too surprised. He was muttering something about betrayal, but I expected that. I got the feeling that…" He shook his head. "Except that it's ridiculous."
"What is?"
"I don't know. Have you ever felt that someone knew exactly how something was going to turn out, even if it was impossible?" Draco shook his head again in resignation. "It's silly, but I just couldn't help feeling, from the way he was talking, that he was trying to change something that he already knew about."
"From what you used to tell me, it sounds like he fully expected you to be his most loyal Death Eater ever," said Hermione, sounding faintly annoyed. "You were brought up surrounded by his influence, you'd clearly made a habit of picking on Muggle-borns in school, and you were the personal enemy of Harry Potter... I'm surprised he didn't have a coronary when he found out the truth."
"Dark Lords don't tend to have heart attacks," Harry muttered bitterly, wishing that they did - it would make his life much easier. He turned to Hermione. "What about you? I suppose he kind of knew about you, right?"
She shrugged. "I think he suspected. But then he probably suspected Ron, too, so he obviously didn't know too much."
"I don't mean to sound morbid," said Ron, "but why hasn't he finished us off yet? Harry and us Weasleys, that is."
Hermione and Draco shared a distinctly nervous glance. "To be perfectly honest... we don't know. It's possible that if we are a bomb, then he plans to kill you in the explosion."
"Suppose it'd be easier than saying 'avada kedavra' eight times," muttered Fred angrily. "That's the thing with big families - we can bring on hell if we try."
"Um," said Ginny. It was the first time Harry had heard her speak since they'd arrived. "Not to put a dampener on things at all,but... we're planning to escape, right? And yet, how much information do we actually have about where we are? We don't know where the others are, we don't even know if this place is in the US or England. So what are we going to do once we get out of this room?"
Hermione gave a half-smile. "Well... I did a bit of scoping out when they took me to meet Voldemort. See this?" She showed them the bruise on her arm. "This is the result of a concealed Plotting Charm. In a little while it'll be fully formed."
"What is it?" asked Harry.
"It's a map. A map of this place. I took a chance and tried the charm on the way to see our little snakey friend. That's how I came to figure out about the anti-magic seal, by the way. Now, I reckon this place is probably Unplottable from the outside, but once you're on the inside, - easy peasy." They watched as the purpley-blue smudge slowly changed into a precise, delicate linear formation. A tiny red circle pulsated in the top right corner. "That's where we are," said Hermione. "Now all we have to do is wait for someone to open that door and hope my arm doesn't get blasted off in all the chaos."
George peered closely at her arm - Harry noticed Draco looking particularly murderous - and said, "Don't suppose this'll tell us where the others are?"
"Yes," she replied, "but I think I know where they are anyway. On our way to see Voldemort, I saw a staircase just down the corridor - looked like ours. It makes sense that they'd put them in a room similar to this one."
"What will we do once we're out in the open?" asked Harry. "What if it turns out that we're in... I don't know, Australia or something?"
Draco held up Ron's shoe. "We use Ron's Portkey idea."
Ron beamed with pride.
Hermione stared at the door. "Bloody hell, I wish it'd just open."
As if on cue, the door slid open. They pulled out their wands in preparation for a fight. But Harry didn't think anything could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him at the top of the stairs.
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God, this chapter was an absolute bugger to write. Chapter Nine is even worse, but I have finally mapped out all the details, which makes me feel a little better. Again, feedback would be brilliant – thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.