Hardly getting any reviews. Feeling slightly depressed. Yep; it's probably going to affect my writing as well. Hah. So you all shall pay. Maybe. I know I'm nagging; but I nag when I'm depressed. So you can change all this. You know how.

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Hermione stared at Draco. Through Draco's eyes, Harry stared back. The look of shock and devastation revealed that she too was scandalized. Draco had told neither of them about his association with Death Eaters. They had both assumed; if he was willing to associate with the likes of them, he couldn't possibly be a death eater. Could he?

Hermione gripped the twig between her hands; the replacement fro her wand. The thing she grabbed instead of her wand, making her defenceless; the thing that made it possible for them to capture her so easily. She stared at Draco – or who she thought was Draco – intently, and gripped harder and harder on the twig.

Hermione couldn't see her bound up hands; pain; she couldn't be sure of anything anymore. Again. She seriously thought they were bleeding. But definitely not as much as something else inside of her that was breaking, cracking again – just when it was healing – being destroyed by the despicable man in front of her.

Hermione wanted to beat him with the twig.

Lucius smirked, loving the way his son reacted to the sacrifice; though somewhat disappointed that he failed to conceal even the slightest bit emotion or turmoil that erupted from his eyes.

Harry's head hurt, very badly. It felt like someone had tried to yank out a chunk of hair from his head. It felt like they succeeded.

Harry resisted the sudden urge to scream out for the real Draco and demand haughtily that he lift up his sleeves. Not once did Harry remember Draco's sleeves been rolled up. Hermione knew possible every inch of Draco's body, but concealing charms made deceit possible.

Harry staggered back and reached for something solid to lean on. On what he thought was a wall supporting him, Harry breathed heavily, never taking his eyes off Hermione and blocked out the constant chant of the Death Eaters.

Tears began welling in her eyes, the sense of betrayal thick in the air. When he shifted his weight to move closer to Hermione, she only inched away from him; making any secrecy in communicating impossible. His insides churned; the wall felt like it was shaking.

Harry felt like the wall he was leaning on was inching away from him too. It was as if everyone was deserting him. His surroundings looked as if they were swaying, rhythmically in time with the chanting. He looked behind him, to find that he couldn't even see the wall.

"Potter," Harry heard someone whisper.

Harry glanced over at Hermione, hoping she'd come to her sense and recognized him for who he was.

Nope.

Lucius now dragged the crushed and beaten Hermione, who stared forlornly at Draco, away.

"Oi, Potter; you Gryffindor dolt!" Definitely not Hermione; but Draco. Only he would talk to the famed Harry Potter like that.

"We need to-" Harry began; but stopped when he realised it would be a waste of breath and rouse suspicion on why he was conversing with an invisible wall.

"I have a plan," was all Draco offered before running off with light feet, leaving Harry staggering from the lack of support.

Harry breathed in, calmly trying to control his breathing. Draco had a plan. Good. Draco, being a Slytherin, was good at coming up with plans and seeing them through. Harry, being a Gryffindor, wasn't good at following plans.

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A hooded figure, cloaked with an even darker black cloak with a green serpent seal that looked similar to the Slytherin mascot, descended from the clouds. The clouds were big, grey, thick and very abominable appearing. Quite cliche for this particular circumstance, really. The elite Death Eaters all bowed to the domineering man... person... thing.

Big surprises on who – and what – the hooded outline was.

Harry gulped, trying to see and squinted his eyes in search of a friendly face.

Nope.

It was very dark, but Harry could only make out figures; his eyes were conking out.

"He's here!" the one who Harry presumed was Voldemort hissed angrily. "Very close by."

Lucius grimaced.

"No doubt to retrieve the Mudblood. So like the famed Potter to heroically rescue his true-love and die in the process." Lucius shrugged, and bowed again to his lord. Like father, like son; he sounded so much like Draco it was unbelievable.

"Voldemort!" He heard a familiar voice roar, and the doors to the balcony burst opened.

Harry was standing in the middle, a familiar look of determination; altered slightly by a hidden smirk was firmly placed on his face. Or at least, someone who appeared to be Harry. Someone who looked like Harry stood defiantly in the doorway.

"Welcome, Mr Potter," the real Harry, fake Draco, heard a minion of the Dark Lord greet.

The real Draco, fake Harry, stepped forward; scaring the speaker with a very Malfoy death glare. Fake Harry glanced over at Hermione, a sincere look of relief flooded over the both of them and their gazes interlocked. The doors slammed shut, a booming echo followed and stretched the riling silence.

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OOooOOOoooo: what are they going to do?

I keep leaving you with cliffies; my way of life nowadays.

– Snigger –