Disclaimer: I own nothing, just the plot.

Chapter Eighteen

Somebody once said that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Somebody was stupid.

Hermione wrung her hands in her lap in anxiety. Her eyes stayed fixed on the desk in front of her as she finished explaining everything to Dumbledore. He simply nodded when she finished her long epic tale.

At first he said nothing which drove her insane. She leaped out of her seat and started pacing. "What can I do?" she asked frantically. This whole experience was nerve wracking. Dumbledore made no reply. Hermione slammed her fists on the table, looking him in the eye with fury and asked the same question again. "You're not helping me!" she screamed. The old Headmaster sitting in front of her sighed.

"Miss Granger, please take a seat," he instructed kindly.

"I prefer to stand," she stated back stubbornly and defensively.

"Very well," he replied. "I know you came to me tonight with the intentions of finding Mr. Malfoy and bringing him back to safety. I understand how you must feel right now. Unfortunately…" a pause. Hermione didn't like these pauses, they never were good for anything. Dumbledore took a steady breath before continuing. "Unfortunately, there is nothing you can do. We do not know the whereabouts of Mr. Malfoy, had we known, he would have never arrived there because Voldemort would no longer be there."

Hermione cracked. "How dare you say that you understand what I'm going through and then pull some erroneous bull shit like that! Obviously you have no idea or you wouldn't be telling me that there is nothing I could do!"

"Miss Granger, please try to be reasonable—"

"I am being reasonable!" she screamed hysterically. "What on earth could posses you to believe that I'm just going to sit around here and do nothing—"

Hermione would have continued but was cut short by a sharp jolt in her side. Forgetting the conversation before her, she clutched the pain residing in her abdomen.

What was that?

Dumbledore looked at her concerned. "Miss Granger? Is something the matter?"

It came back again, that sharp pain. Hermione bent over and gasped. Something was right. It felt as though someone was kicking her with as much force as possible in her side. It felt like Willis…

Her thoughts were interrupted by an acute blow to the head. She yelped in pain, as one hand flew to her now throbbing skull.

"Headmaster?" she called out in a slight panic. Another strike, and another. Soon it was followed by more jots to her stomach. Hermione couldn't breath. She felt her legs give way underneath her and she doubled over.

Then it happened. A blood curdling scream soared throughout the room as Hermione's body wriggled on the ground. The pain was horrible. She had heard stories Harry used to tell her about how much the Crucius curse hurt, but she never could have imagined this.

Dumbledore was by her side instantly trying to figure out what was causing her to do this. His shouts were completely muffed by her continuous screams of agony.

Then she vanished.


He had said no. He had actually said no. Draco Malfoy had stared down the darkest most powerful wizard of all time and told him to go to hell. He had done it.

And of course he had paid. Lucius was the first to react to Draco's rebellion. He had hit him, hard, on the back of his head causing an instant surge of dizziness throughout his brain. Then the kicking's had started. Each figure in that room had had his share of blows to Draco's already weak body. They had thrown curse after curse at him. They set him on fire, extinguished it, and repaired his skin to new, only to set it on fire once more. They performed the darkest hexes on him, making his skin boil, his bones break, and his lungs asphyxiate. Tears streamed down his face and he screamed in anguish.

The remains of the Crucius could still be felt in his sore and battered muscles. His head still vibrated in misery from the many strikes it had endured. Surely one more curse or hex would be the end of him.

He couldn't move. Laying on the cold, stone, ground of a dungeon somewhere in that building, his eyes let lose the tears of suffering her felt deep within his soul. Of course they wouldn't just finish him off there. He knew better than that. They had something special planned for him.

Draco cringed as another wave of pain flowed through his body. He was nauseous, but didn't have the strength to roll over and vomit. He tried to steady his breathing, but it was hard. Surely they had cracked at least half a dozen ribs if not more. He couldn't feel his toes anymore, and he couldn't move his arms.

But none of this crossed his mind as he lay there. He simply stared straight up towards the molded ceiling ahead.

A face formed on the ceiling. It morphed into recognizable features. The eyes, the smile, the frizzy hair. She was beautiful. Draco smiled. The dungeon reeked of a dead pungent smell, but he could imagine her sweet fragrance overpowering it all. He inhaled deeply, losing himself in her perfect smell.

"Hermione," he breathed out silently, feeling his mind began to falter and his body seeping further and further into an abyss of peace and glory.

Then he heard it. The sweetest voice spoke to him. It was angelic and made his heart weep. It was hers. Four simple words that made his broken body want to jump for joy..

"Oh my God! Draco!" Hermione shrieked when she saw his lifeless form sprawled out on the stone floor.