Remnants of Life

Disclaimer: The Characters aren't mine, only the Plot. Characters are from the mind of J.K. Rowling.

Rating: R

===Note===

Blah, it's been a while. Well, not really. Two Weeks perhaps. I agree with you reviewers. I should just forget school and write. Unfortunately, it's not possible. So, I've pretty much been trying to cram in chapters on the weekends. Which is why this took 3 sittings when I could normally finish in one. Anyways, enjoy this serving of dark angst, forgiveness, and romance. That's right. There is some actual lovin' going on.

Chapter 11: Imprisoned in You

The pleasant dream world was ebbing away as Hermione slowly awoke. Desperately, she snatched and grabbed for the blurred visions which brought her peace. In vain, she fought her consciousness. Defeat washed over her as her eyes fluttered open to meet the darkness.

Not once since her return had she been able to sleep through the night. Because of this, she resorted to taking frequent naps during the day to prevent the dark circles under her eyes from becoming too visible.

This nocturnal state was unsettling. Often, she found herself sitting beside the window well past midnight while her thoughts wandered to dark images of merciless murder. She imagined Harry's death in gruesome detail. She heard his screams in her head without ever having experienced them. And, despite her feeble efforts to repress them, they always returned when the darkness descended upon her.

Those same cruel visions taunted her now as she lay beneath the sheets. They danced before her until she became unfocused and unsure of what reality really was. The fantasies somehow emerged as real, and Hermione trembled in her vain attempts to suppress them.

"The mudblood lives." A voice spoke from a dark corner of her room. Distracted by her thoughts, she had not noticed there was another in her presence. Hermione's eyes jerked open and widened in shock.

Before she could take some sort of action, the sheets flew away and her body was wretched up from the mattress.

She hung there in midair panting as she struggled against whatever charm held her in place. In the dark, she could not see the intruder, but his voice brought back chilling recollections of the night in the Astronomy tower.

Lucius twirled his wand as he toyed with her. Hermione felt the invisible force push her backwards into the wall. The impact left a dull ache in her head and her senses were temporarily impaired.

Sweat broke out on her forehead as she strained, breathe after breathe. She heard his mocking laughter and realized she was to meet the same end as Harry; a slow and torturous death. As soon as this conclusion was drawn, Hermione ceased her struggle. The heaving of her chest calmed until her breathing returned to an almost normal rate. She heard him approach but didn't bother to look. His footsteps sounded in her ears before the curse was muttered.

The pain tore through her with astonishing speed. Beginning at her heart, she felt the fire burn through her veins and tear her muscles. Her own screams pierced her ears and left a ringing sensation. It was a pain never before experienced. It was a pain she never thought possible.

Her heartbeat quickened and she believed it likely the organ would simply explode. Arching and twisting, Hermione willed death to release her. Screaming toward the heavens she cried out for peace. Certain her body was being damaged beyond repair, she ceased any feeble attempts to fight the curse. Her screams died into nothing until hardly a whimper escaped her mouth.

Cold numbness spread through her tortured muscles. The involuntary jerks of her limbs slowed and she felt as if she was collapsing within herself. Her mind had deserted her. The pain was somehow not felt. Nothing remained in the shell of her former self. She had found her release by discarding her will to live.

Her breathe slowed to that of a dying man's, and she faded into semi-consciousness. Visions from the dream world danced for her, yet she could still see her dark surroundings. She saw the movement of his robes as he approached. She heard his mumbled curses. Words formed on his lips but were lost on her. His voice seemed small; far away.

Lucius watched her in distaste. She could see the hatred in his eyes. He appeared disappointed, and Hermione realized that she had robbed him of his entertainment.

"And then once they had their fun, they ended it. It was so quick. There was no fuss. He just... stopped moving."

Malfoy's voice floated briefly through her mind. She hadn't suffered as much as Harry, her death was not as amusing to him. She had lost her will to live long before he intended to end her.

She expected death then. She knew it was inevitable regardless of what she did now. But, the curse didn't come. Hermione's eyes traveled up the creases of his cloak to meet his eyes. The cold amusement she found there almost stopped her heart.

"Perhaps you would better serve as an amusement, Mudblood." He said softly before wrenching her off the ground and onto her unstable feet. Incoherent and weak, she watched him raise his wand.

Time stopped and air rushed past her, whipping her hair and bringing tears to her eyes as they departed. The ground flew from under her and a hollow feeling settled at the pit of her stomach. When Hermione was at last able to open her swollen eyes, she realized they were no longer in her bedroom.

==========

Red marks appeared where the shackles held tight. Draco had strained against his restraints when he first awoke. His struggles resulted in a wretched pain in his shoulders and wrists, nothing more. Accepting defeat was difficult, but inevitable in his current situation.

His wand had been taken from him. His robes were dirtied and creased. Night dawned into day before sinking back into darkness, and still not a word came of what was to be done with him.

Draco had expected instant death. This was a surprise. If it was a pleasant one however, he couldn't decide. Why had they chosen to imprison him? His mind wandered to dark thoughts and suspicious mind games. That was what they intended, he decided. They would not be satisfied with only the kill, they never were. The wait was slowly driving him towards insanity. They knew this, and they found it amusing.

Draco laughed bitterly at the ingenious intentions behind their actions. The Dark Lord knew an individual's weakness. Those that wouldn't submit to physical pain could be ended by mental torture. And that was what was occurring now, he realized, actually finding some humorless amusement in his situation.

The door to his dungeon cell suddenly swung open with force. The wood banged against the stone wall and the resulting echo caused Draco to wince. Light flooded the previously dark room and he closed his eyes tightly to the glare.

He heard their mocking laughter sound in the cell and squinted into the brightness. A crumpled figure was thrown into the room at his feet.

The white of her nightgown glowed faintly in the dimly lit dungeon. The previously pure cloth hung tattered and spoiled around her frail frame. Her hair fell tangled across her face, blocking her features from his gaze.

The door was closed, leaving them to the darkness. He listened to her labored breathing but dared not speak. He was to be blamed for this after all. With bitterness, Draco accepted that he had miscalculated. She was now a caged victim because of what he had done. He had opened his mouth to take the potion; he had thought only of the torture he would experience if he dared to refuse. And now, here before him, she was facing the consequences of his actions.

"Hermione?" He mouthed quietly as he looked down at her still figure.

There was a pause when all he heard was her shallow breathes. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw her crumpled frame lying sprawled on the floor. Her hair fanned out across the stones and her face was turned from his.

"Hermione?" He repeated hesitantly. "I'm sorry."

He received no response. Draco wished she would scream at him; curse him for his betrayal even, anything to ease the silence.

He was startled when at length, she spoke.

"I don't blame you." Hermione said softly.

She surprised him again. How was it possible that so much had changed since their childhood? How could it be that he, who had been faulted for everything during their school days, was now redeemed in her eyes?

Shaking his head, Draco realized he couldn't accept her statement. He should be blamed. He should be held responsible for his weaknesses and mistakes. He should receive her anger, not her forgiveness.

"I am to blame though, Hermione." He forced out at the expense of his precious pride.

He watched her gaze shift to his face and it took unbelievable willpower not to turn away. Her eyes were luminous and pieced into his tainted soul. He felt certain she could see his flaws and mistakes; his misery and his guilt. Everything which he hid and despised about himself surfaced for her to examine.

"It's my fault," Draco muttered, more for his own benefit than her's. For once, he had no desire to sly from responsibility. For once, he wanted her to curse him for his selfish actions. That was all his life had been built on, he realized, decisions made solely to satisfy his own needs.

"What have they done to you?" Draco asked quietly, upon examining her ragged appearance.

Hermione gave a bitter laugh as an answer. Her eyes traveled to his chained wrists and stared at them unblinkingly. Slowly she pushed herself into a sitting position. Draco noticed her wince and tremble in her efforts. He had done this, and he took full responsibility.

She tried to stand, but fell back onto her knees. This time, it was he who winced. Hermione emitted a shuddering breathe and a gasp escaped her. Wordlessly, Draco watched, unable to do anything and unwilling to look away.

Ever the determined one, Hermione crawled to the wall, uncaring of the bruises and scratches inflicted on her knees. With both hands she reached out for the rough surface. Grasping the protruding stones, she pulled herself to her feet.

It pained him to see her efforts; to hear her uncontainable whimpers. His eyes took her in as she approached him; her hands still pressed against the wall for support. Her hair hung in a tangled mass, hiding most of her features. Dirt from the dungeon floor coated her limbs and ruined nightgown.

She reached his side practically panting. Leaning heavily against the wall, she pushed her hair back and closed her eyes in an attempt to regain her breathe. Draco studied her movements and took note of her winces. He examined the circles under her eyes and the sorrowful curve of her lips. She was too young to experience such hardship. And he was too young to have caused it.

Consumed by his inspection, Draco didn't notice that her eyes had reopened. He was startled to find, upon returning to her face, that she was performing her own examination.

Her eyes glowed faintly as they traveled up the length of his arms to his chained wrists. He watched them widened at the sight of his bruises. Wordlessly, she reached for his wounds and traced the marks with a gentle finger. Draco almost smiled. Comparing his wounds to hers, it was obvious who had suffered the most. Nevertheless, here she was, concerned for him.

"What happened?" She murmured, staring unblinkingly at his restraints.

Draco let out a false laugh. "I tried to get free. Not much came of it." He forced a grim smile, as if his own failure was a source of amusement.

Hermione's gaze settled on him curiously. Her eyes appeared the picture of innocence. He was amazed that that was still possible.

"What will we do now?" She asked, never breaking contact.

"Nothing. We wait." He responded.

Nodding her head slowly, she seemed to accept this. Her arms dropped to her sides and she looked ever wearier. Leaning her trembling, unsteady body against him, Hermione closed her eyes and took in whatever comfort he could provide her.

Draco mimicked her actions. With shut lids, he focused on the warmth of her fragile frame and the softness of her hair against his neck. He memorized her scent and form. He envisioned them both, far from there; safe and at peace.

Ignoring the roughness of the stone against his back, and the icy chains restraining him, Draco felt only her. He thought about the purity she still obtained, and the hope she sheltered. But mostly, he just revered in the fact that she still believed what he had told her, that existence was enough, when he himself was now uncertain of the statement.

Sighing in exhaustion and defeat, Draco lowered his face and lightly kissed the top of her head. The action drew her attention. Hermione's eyes were suddenly turned up towards his, and with a weak smile, she claimed his lips.

===Note====

Man, parts of this actually borders on fluffy. And I usually try so hard to avoid that. Ah well. I never did like writing fluff. Which is why you kind of have to hunt for signs of love in my stories. Take note that he apologizes, and he realizes his own selfishness. I suppose that's what "redeemed" Draco is to me. =) Anyways, please review. I'd love to know what you think.

-Captive