Of Insight and Torture
Lights were moving and the dull early morning muttering of Parvati and Lavender made her eyelids itch.
Hermione wasn't quite sure when her two roommates had become hulking male Slytherins. Maybe it was during the time when her luxurious four poster bed became a hard stone floor and what she was quite sure was shards of glass. Perhaps it was when her normal substitute of a teddy bear of Hogwarts: A History had become no longer a book, but a cool, piano player's hand. Or maybe the time that the hangings leaning around her bed became Draco Malfoy.
Wait.
But Hermione was no longer in Hogwarts. She was no longer even invisible. In fact, she was leaning against the man she'd sworn she would kill whilst he healed flecked cuts across her back, but most importantly -
She was awake.
"Didn't you ever hear my middle name, Granger? 'Salvador' - as in Saviour." The supposed bed curtains with messy white blonde hair whispered.
"Mal- Malfoy?"
"Apparently."
"You – "
"'Yes?"
"You MONSTER!" Hermione raged, "GET OFF OF ME!"
"Get off? But Granger, you are the one holding onto my hand."
In disgust she flung away the hand had she was admittedly holding softly and turned on Draco with capped curls flying.
"What are you doing?"
Sitting back now, arms behind his head leaning on what used to be a till he looked a little too relaxed in a forgotten Muggle pub, a little insane even, that mad smirk now firmly in place.
"I was saving your life." his upper class drawl proclaimed, "Crabbe, Goyle and Flint don't know you're here, but they're bringing others, so you might want to find you friends and well, sod off."
Draco was surprised to find that something struck Hermione, sending her almost as pale as he was, she lost that brilliant flushed look and tears gathered in her eyes.
"Where is she?"
"Who?"
"Don't give me that, Malfoy, where is the other Auror?"
But she had already scrambled to her feet and was now rushing past many other decaying dead bodies, to one that mattered.
"Tonks? Tonks?" Hermione bend over the sleeping girl, "wake up! We have to go –"
Draco turned from the scene as his enemy's voice broke, as she frantically shook her comrade's long-cold body. Until finally, she stopped, shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Malfoy? What did you do?"
"Get away from it, Granger, she's gone." He didn't lie to her, voice emotionless, passive. He walked towards the door that lead to the rest of the village hoping that when he turned around she'd left.
But she hadn't.
Stepping towards him now, fury in her eyes that he'd only seen once before. When they had been thirteen.
Her hand almost got to his cheek when he caught her wrist and held it tight.
"I was telling the truth, Hermione, now get out of here before they get to my father."
His warning or her bruised wrist didn't calm her one bit, and in a breathless voice she snapped, "don't call me that."
Taken aback at her malice he caught her other hand in one of his, and brought her violently closer pulling off her black woollen hat as he did so.
Anger visibly faded into worry in the captured girl's arms.
"She was your cousin, how could you do it?"
"All's fair in love and war, as you know."
"Why are you doing this? You killed my friend and now you're apparently helping me."
Sensing a change in the charged atmosphere Hermione watched as Draco's whole presence filled up with confusion. Something that wasn't quite hate shone in icy eyes.
Then all of a sudden, as though she'd imagined it, the look was gone.
"Because Malfoy's don't like being in debt to Mudbloods." he pushed her backwards, throwing her hat at her as he went, "don't try that."
"What?"
"That whole 'I'm-Hermione-Granger-so-wild-and-beautiful' look, and 'why-don't-you-drop-your-wand-and-let-me-hex-you' thing. Because it won't work on me, Granger. Oh no, not this time."
"What?"
They both stood there for a long moment, eyes locked on each other and then, with an unspoken understanding they reached for they're wands.
Raising her mahogany wand, encyclopaedia of spells she'd used many times with Harry and Ron, and a few they probably didn't know, opening before her eyes she –
"Hermione?" A voice both familiar and very distant called.
Startled suddenly out of her to-the-death battle with the blonde haired enemy, her gaze was caught by the familiar rippling of air right next to the window and when she looked back to Malfoy he had simply gone.
"Hermione?" Lupin asked again, him and his battered black robes appearing in the dark, "what are you doing?"
"It was Malfoy," frustration cursed through Hermione as she flung her wand towards where he had once been standing, as her knees gave out again, "he killed Tonks."
- - - -
It had been a long night. Day. Night. Time span out of all recognition since the war had began, since he'd chosen his side, days merged with nights, and nights blurred into mornings. Fear of what he'd be forced to relive turned him to a creature of Pepper-Up Potion and long books.
The particular book he was holding as he sat in his room's balcony, cloak drawn around him was his childhood favourite – not in the traditional sense, but it did have a brilliant ending.
The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet dealt with one thing he would probably never understand.
Love. A four letter word. It sounds so simple… and yet in the house of Malfoy it is as forbidden as blasphemy of the Dark Lord, as inconceivable as a pureblood being poor. But for him love was untouchable. It was wrong. It was something that Potter dreamt up when he wasn't off saving Gnomes from being de-gardened. It was the steel feeling of weakness bubbling up inside of you, a weakness that could only do two things: make you someone's pawn and get you killed. Draco, the last heir of the Malfoys and the Blacks' wasn't about to do either.
People say lots of things about him, in those damned magazines, when they think he's not listening, or even when he is. Cold. Calculating. Attractive. Isolated. But he preferred something Granger had said. 'Colourless'. Well, it had been more like she had muttered it and a lot of words that you wouldn't think a girl like her would know as he passed her in a corridor once. She'd always had a way with words, that girl, he thought to himself. One of those intricate things that he'd always admired in her. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, least of all himself. Her intelligence had always been a point of speculation for him – how could anyone of impure blood be so skilled?
He hadn't been lying when he'd let slip to her that he was mad she had been nearly indifferent to him at school. Always the first one to tell him to go away, stop her friends from taking they're arguments with him further, always the first one to doubt his involvement in something sinister. Her of all people. The whole of the Slytherin house had coiled around his finger, Potter and Weasley jumped every time he raised an eyebrow, girls were everywhere he'd turn, but for some twist in the universe she had not been.
Hermione Granger, bookish and different from everyone else he knew, had the gall to not be affected by him.
Did it piss him off? Of course. Was he about to admit that it actually intrigued him? Of course not. He was a Malfoy and Malfoy's do not spare a second thought about members of the opposing side, be it the Goblin Rebellion of 1672 or wide-eyed Muggle-borns with flyaway hair.
Putting down his book in the middle of a particularly long Friar Lawrence speech, he began to walk through the endless dark corridors that let do the dudgeons (helpfully, none of which ever led out the same way) to began his Death Eater Day Shift. Commonly known as Torturing Random Spy. What was it that his father called him? Ernie something or other, formally from Hufflepuff (which would explain rather a lot. Idiots! the lot of them!)
Which, in his opinion, was a waste of time. All those traitors of Dumbledore's side didn't know much unless they were Potter, Weasley or Granger. Or one of those other cursed 'Order Members', and they weren't likely to give out any information. Draco, having chosen Voldemort's side by default, default being it was going to win, was ambitious and as his former house suggested, very cunning. But the small fact that his ex-Headmaster's lair was in fact in the old Black house, that rightly belonged to him was not going to be mentioned – since it would take all the fun out of all holier-than-thou Ministry member's snuffing it one by one. Damned Muggle Lovers. Damned Dumbledore and damned Granger!
"So Ernie, how is life as an Auror treating you?"
The stout boy peered slowly around the black, damp and dangerously cold cell and upon seeing one of the more famed members of his old school he let out a breath of relief.
Surely the boy, who was slightly shorter and a lot thinner than him with an aristocratic air couldn't be a death eater. More likely he was sent to charm information out of him, because this down right pretty boy certainly didn't look like he was about to Crucio anything.
How wrong he was.
Draco Malfoy was in a very bad mood, as run-ins with Granger and currently unrequited Romeo/Juliet love will do to you.
"As musical as it is, the nasal sound of your breathing is not what I wanted to hear, Hufflepuff." Draco said, emotionlessly as he held a silver knife in the air between them, the Dark Mark visible against his white skin as his sleeve fell back.
- - - -
The hot water ran down long chestnut hair, down a tanned back and puddled at painted-nails of small feet, but Hermione barely noticed the temperature as her thoughts raged - her mind played images that over lapped faster and faster as the water sped up.
Malfoy's tightly clenched white fists as rolls of pain hit him from Harry's spell in the basement.
The 'Hanged Man' pub. The empty shells of the inhabitants Little Hangleton that decorated the better part of the floor and walls.
Malfoy's dark grey eyes full of secrets as she released the shackled chains.
And then…
Black.
Because shampoo had just ran into her eyes.
Slightly blinded as she stepped out of the upright ancient shower and straight into a thick towel nightgown, coloured like her mood.
Black.
The thundercloud that bore the features and presence of Hermione turned off the water and swept down the second floor corridor, not caring that she was dripping water from her hair, or that Harry and Ron blocked her way.
"Hermione," Ron tried as he reached out to touch the shoulder of the retreating storm, "there was nothing you could have done – you tried – don't blame yourself."
"We'll get Malfoy when the time is right," Harry said firmly. This at least, had a visible effect on the girl. She stopped walking.
"When the time is right?" she echoed, "when what, Harry? When he tries to kill us again? Or maybe when he's killed me, or Ron, or you. Is that when Dumbledore going to let us go after him?"
Both boys said nothing.
"He said I acted indifferent to him," she banged her fist against the wall for emphasise and shook her head, "but he's the only one who-"
Hermione immediately stopped talking as she realised the magnitude of what she was saying. The only one? She asked herself, the only one who what? Could affect her this way? How could Malfoy of all people become so entwined with her thoughts?
She did not say anything else. She turned. Carried on walking and slammed her door shut.
Harry and Ron stared after her, and when the wooden thump had stopped reverberating around the dim corridor, Harry lost in his thoughts as usual, remarked to no one in particular,
"I'm worried about her."
And his red haired best friend whom, as usual, answered Harry's musings replied softly, "Me too, mate. Me too."
- - -
The shuddering boy faced his silver-eyed tormentor.
"Are you going to cut me?" He asked suddenly fearful.
Draco starred.
"Are you going to kill-"
"I might well have to," he said flippantly, as his captive paled even more. "My father does say you've been lying to him."
Draco lowered the knife that was the length of his forearm towards the informant before him. "Well?"
The boy didn't answer, but then taking on look at Draco's unemotional face and the knife he began talking, rather quickly.
"Dumbledore's orders are to be stationed around your manor the night of the ball, 'cos that Granger girl and some other members of the old Gryffindor team are going to be at the party."
- - -
"I most certainly am not!"
"Hermione-"
"No, I don't think you understand – I am not stepping into Malfoy's house! You know how much trouble-"
"And that is why, Miss Granger," Dumbledore interrupted, "it is important to remain level headed about this, it is important to find out why after all of this, you are invited, and what they exactly want with you."
Hermione sighed, and although the times she faced were dark and dangerous she noted with some satisfaction that she had at least grown a backbone when facing her elders. She hadn't even blushed when she refused point blank to come out of her room.
She was not a girl who often let her emotions get the better of her; usually she looked at the bigger picture. But some where in between Snape hexing her door of its hinges and witnessing the death of a fellow order member, a person she looked up to, and all of this centring around the blonde haired nemesis of her school days Hermione had become accustomed to throwing things.
"It won't be anything good- what happens if they just plan to murder me the moment I walk though the doors?"
"There would be no means to that end-"
"Except the death of me?"
"Quite. You're involvement in all this has magnified over the last few days, we need to find out what the young Malfoy wants with you."
"He could be just infatuated with her," Lupin said from his side of the table. Invoking a snort from Harry and Ron.
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes Hermione turned again to Albus Dumbledore. "If I did go to this, what? Malfoy party?"
"It's the Malfoy Annual Ball," surprisingly, Ron informed her, "every year all the powerful Pureblood families get invited to the Malfoy Manor where they dance and I dunno, plan whose head gets lopped off next."
At Hermione and Harry's questioning glances Ron mouthed "my mum" as Dumbledore continued.
"Mr. Weasley is quite right – perhaps not about the beheading, but the Ball itself, dates back to the oldest of the Malfoy and Black ancestry."
"And they're still having the ball even though everyone thinks they are in Voldemort's front row?" Harry asked, as he looked up when the word 'Black' was mentioned.
"Yes," Dumbledore sent a nod in his direction, "which is my guess to why they have invited our Miss Granger – appearances for appearance's sake."
"Well, if that's true, if I go there it will make them look good, right?" Hermione said, looking across the table as if for appeal. "What would I have to do there? – I don't know anything about Pureblood etiquette."
"Then," Dumbledore answered elusively, holding up three silver envelopes, "it is our luck that there are two others invited that if my memory serves me correctly, most certainly will."
This chapter goes out to my dear friend JKR, who although has denied the D/Hr pairing, knows post-Hogwarts makes sense.
Frantic Authors Note: Ah! You have no idea how terribly tragically hard this was to write! My notebook (where I draft everything) says: "CHAPTER FOUR Of insight and torture – dunno. Make something up" which I did, rather appallingly as you can see, well ok, maybe not completely – I do have a special place for this evil chapter in my heart. I like the start especially. But reviews would make me most happy. In fact so happy I may even start writing the new chapter right away. I'm still not sure how long it will be – at least another four chapters. So wrote a one-shot that you can see by looking on my profile. Its quite good really, considering I wrote it because I was bored.
Frantic Authors Disclaimer: I'm not even going to go there with you JKR! Squashing my poor hopes about Library lovin' with D/Hr. I don't own it. Damn.
(Thank you one and all!) Frantic Reviewers:
Keladry2 - *hides under bed* H/Hr?! I'm sorry but my heart lies with Draco. And fear not, Harry will get better. Or I'll kill him off completely :D
Keladry2 - it's there somewhere!
Bride of Malfoy - thank you :) I'll try!
cedar1- Sorry about that!
Black*Draconis - *blush*
candygoddess - thanks.
CheckerBoard -I've noticed there are a lack of post-Hogwarts-D/Hr too. Damnit. Which is why... mine is. You're review really made me grin, thanks ever so! (Will try and conduct a mailing list....)
Amanda - at last! someone expressed remorse for Tonks!
potts - yes, lol, Tonks is DEAD. I never really had a particular attatchment to her *ducks bottles thrown at head*
Arafel2 - :)
hyparly4suger - yes yes, must pay attention to even the most trivial plot points ;)
SkYdIvE_babe - lol, no more vodka for us.
bessorla - no! any reviews that mention "really" and "good" are just perfect :D
Rogue Pryde - thanks very much :D
one crimson tie – love your fic, btw, thanks for the review.
scholz03 - I did. I killed Tonks. *sinister JK laugh* don't worry, Hermione probably won't be dying too soon.
The Perfectly Imperfect- It does, doesn't it? Will try!
mystripedskirt - obsessiveness is always good.