Her face hurt like a bitch. Her throat hurt worse.
That was her first revelation.
The second was that she was growing incredibly tired of unexpectedly waking up in the four poster bed in Malfoy Manor.
The third was that she could not smell the mildew and cinnamon that usually accompanied Pipsey when she was tending to her, but instead -
Mint.
And smoke.
Her eyes flew open and she flinched away from the figure looming over her. He leaned back, a small smirk tipping the corner of his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. She felt her face fall as the day's events replayed themselves in her mind.
Ron choking her, hitting her, being all too willing to kill her.
It really did make sense in hindsight. It was life or death with consequences far more immediate than anything they had encountered in the past seven years. People changed in situations like that. And she supposed that he was correct; there were far fewer people who would be affected by her death than there would be in the event of his.
Limiting the fallout had always been her main concern.
"You're an absolute fucking imbecile." Malfoy's voice was low and angry. Hermione arched an eyebrow tiredly.
"Yes, I'm sure. Reading my mind is quite intrusive, you know." she sighed, wincing at the painful drag of the words in her throat .
"I will be sure to add it to the list of my transgressions."
"See that you do."
"Right." he said shortly.
"Pipsey?"
"Cleaning."
"Cleaning?"
"Glass."
"She's cleaning glass."
"Broken glass, yes."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the man and finally took inventory of him. There was pale pink blood bleeding through the sleeve of his white button down shirt. His skin looked a bit healthier, like he'd rested and been healed almost and-
"How long?" she asked sharply.
"I could show you. You were always a rather hands-on learner if I recall." His smirk was irritating, but almost playful and some ancient part of Hermione, however much she hated him now, rejoiced in the fact that the beaten down classmate was still childish somewhere deep, deep down.
"How long have I been unconscious, Malfoy?" she repeated, louder, more desperately, flinching more noticeably as the pitch of her voice battered her bruised throat from the inside out.
"As much as I enjoy your shrieking, and believe me, I do, I'd suggest that, for once in your life, you stop talking." he eyed her reproachfully, shoulders sagging a bit and some of the playfulness being overtaken but the familiar darkness. He rested more heavily against the wall and ran a hand down his face. Hermione opened her mouth to demand an answer once again but stopped when his hand rose sharply, palm facing her, silencing her quickly.
She recoiled.
-and then promptly relaxed back into the mattress, a wave of frustration descending over her. She was not weak. She was not, and she would not allow the circumstances to-
"Stop," he sighed. "Your incessant rambling and obnoxious internal pep talks are giving me a headache." his hand returned to his side. "A few days. I was away on-" he paused, briefly. "Business. I returned this morning. Pipsey has been looking after you and administering the various potions. I understand the damage was quite extensive when you were first brought back."
Hermione nodded once and lifted a hand to gingerly prod her face and neck. She could feel the swelling and lacerations across her skin and grimaced at how horrendous she must look. A wave of Malfoy's hand summoned a mirror.
"You should be fully healed by the end of the day." He said evenly. Hermione nodded as she looked at her own nearly unrecognisable face. "There is an event tomorrow. The Sacred 28 are to be in attendance. The Wards are expected as well. You will be joining me. The Weasley Girl will be joining my father." Hermione's eyes widened and Malfoy's hardened. She and Ginny had been on the same property for days and Hermione had slept through it. "Yes." Malfoy agreed. Dread coiled at the base of Hermione's spine, indicative of the sting of compulsion she knew was coming.
"Please," she whispered. The plea tasted foreign as it floated into the room between them and died in the silence. She shut her eyes, as though that would somehow prevent the words from reaching her.
"You are not to seek her out within the manor." And with that simple sentence, the guillotine crashed down atop the small sliver of hope she'd clung to.
Only when the sound of his boots on the floor disappeared behind her bedroom door did the tears fall.
The dress with which Pipsey presented her was as revealing as the garments that had come before it, though this one was obviously intended to sexualise her. She despised it.
It was satin and about as thick as a butterfly's wing. The thing itself was bright scarlet, the symbolism not lost on Hermione, and that too was infuriating. The straps were thin, crossing at her back where the fabric dipped to the curve of her arse, brand on full display. The neckline dove down to her belly button, the two panels of satin over her breasts barely wide enough to cover the parts she wanted on display least of all. There were twin slits up each of her legs, coming to an end at her prominent hip bones and she wondered how it was possible to both wear something and nothing at all. Pipsey charmed her hair into an updo, intent on baring as much skin as possible and when Pipsey opened her mouth, seemingly preparing to speak, the bedroom door flew open and Malfoy strode through the threshold.
His steps faltered. This time, Hermione was certain of the slip up. It was quick, momentary, the scuff of his shoe on the floor barely audible, but it was there. His jaw clenched as he came to a stop in front of her, arms folded behind his back.
"We do not have time for you to fight me on this. Would you like to comply willingly or must I force you?" Hermione sighed and crossed her arms, bringing one hand to rest at her throat as though she could protect herself from the gaze of others.
"I despise you." she whispered. He nodded.
"Yes, I'm sure. You'll have to join the queue with the others, I'm afraid. Turn and lower your arms."
She obeyed, facing the wall and squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to listen for any clues in his silent movements.
"I used to be on your side, you know?" her words were quiet, even to her own ears. "Everyone thought you were scum, Death Eater spawn, a right spoiled git." Something cold touched the hollow of her throat and she flinched. "I defended you. I believed there was good in you." Her eyes watered and she sucked in a sharp breath of air when his hands, as cold as the material at her throat, came together at the back of her neck. "I never would have done to you what you've done to me." her voice broke and she heard a metallic sound as he clipped together whatever he'd placed around her neck.
"You may be surprised." his voice sounded hollow and quiet and a shiver raced up her spine that coiled into something almost painful when she distinctly felt his thumb trace down the centre of her neck.
"I, unlike you, have morals, Malfoy."
"Precisely."
Hermione's brow creased at his reply but the feel of him at her back disappeared and she crossed the room to where the mirror hung on the wall.
The bastard had collared her.
The Malfoy crest rested solidly in the hollow of her throat, attached to a gold chain that seemed to fit the exact measurements of her.
"Fuck you," she hissed.
"Yes, well," he drawled. "We need to go." He held out an upturned palm, fingers relaxed and light nearly reflecting off of the pale white of his skin. Anger boiled Hermione's blood in a way that made her feel volcanic, like the emotion would consume her entirely. Helplessness did not agree with her in any capacity. As she touched her fingers to his, it was much to her dismay when his cold calmed the boil to a manageable simmer just as the world spun around them, taking them away from the manor.
Blurred lights slowly came into focus and the food Hermione had eaten earlier in the day threatened to make a reappearance as her head pounded violently. It wasn't often that she reacted so poorly to appar-
"You can apparate internationally? Are we in France?"
"Yes. And yes," Malfoy responded, prodding her forward as she stared wide-eyed at her surroundings.
"Why?"
Malfoy hummed distastefully and directed them towards the glittering Beauxbatons Palace.
"The Dark Lord has taken Wizarding France. We're celebrating." Malfoy and Hermione approached a set of ornate double doors, two elves dragging the doors open with all of their strength. "You will not remove that necklace if you have any regard for your own wellbeing, do you understand?" he hissed directly into her ear. She shivered. She couldn't help it. How was it possible that even his breath was cold?
Malfoy tugged her behind him with a sharp, nearly painful, tug at her elbow.
"The Commander and his Mudblood have arrived!" An elf announced, voice echoing and bouncing off of the palace walls.
Beauxbatons Palace was even more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. She wished, more than almost anything, that she could have visited it under better circumstances. It was built into the Pyrenees; amazing and glittering and elegant and dainty like the witches and veelas who occupied it.
The crowd parted like the red sea to make way for Malfoy as he made his way down the aisle, towards the stage, where various women and girls were lined up in front of Voldemort's makeshift throne. Bellatrix was notably missing, but there was Harry, beaten and bloodied at Voldemort's feet as he always seemed to be now. She searched for and found Ginny beside Lucius Malfoy, Elodie at Theodore's side, Ronald at Goyle Sr.'s. Her friends were mostly accounted for and relatively all harmed, each of them as scantily clad as herself.
Blue uniforms were in tatters, hanging off of the girls in various states of disintegration. Voldemort appeared to be in the midst of assigning the Beauxbaton girls to various Death Eaters. Malfoy fell into place at Voldemort's right, supervising the goings-on with acute disinterest.
Kneel.
She did, the fabric of her barely existent dress parting to reveal most of her legs and arse.
Head down. Do not draw attention. Hermione almost scoffed, feeling the sudden urge to rip the garment from her body.
She did not know many of the Beauxbaton girls, but that did not stop her heart from breaking at their cries and pleas as death soaked hands groped them and took ownership.
Hermione was grateful that Fleur had recently graduated. She didn't think Bill would have survived the dystopian horror the rest of the wizarding world had been thrust into if he knew that his wife, the mother of his children, was in this mess.
Gabrielle Delacour however had not yet graduated. It brought tears to her eyes, watching the young girl be manhandled and given away to Goyle, Jr. like property. The boy had always been large, but next to Gabrielle's petite frame he looked massive - and the girl looked petrified. Hermione watched Goyle, Jr. fall into place beside his father, Gabrielle behind him and next to Ron. She wondered if Ron still felt a sense of duty to the blonde after helping with her rescue during the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione hoped so. Maybe it would help Gabrielle through it all.
The process continued on for a long time after Gabrielle had been assigned to someone. Long enough that Hermione's knees were aching and the chill of death in the room was causing her to shiver. She also was certain that she was not imagining the lust and hunger staring back at her from the soulless black holes in the sea of metal masks. She could feel it. It was pulsing around her like a living thing, wrapping around her and squeezing the air from her lungs. Malfoy hadn't so much as twitched. He was seated behind her, head high, a marble statue at her back. He gave off about as much warmth as one too.
The celebration began immediately after the final Beauxbaton had been given away. With a snap of Voldemort's fingers, the lights dimmed, the candles roared, drinks poured from fountains. Hermione watched the party unfold with disgust churning in her stomach. Her friends were passed around and shoved from person to person. She sought out Elodie. The girl was mercifully barricaded into a corner by Theodore, Blaise beside him with a young boy at his back. Ginny was encased in a literal bubble. Some of Hermione's anxiety dissipated at that because at the very least, Lucius was taking the mandated safety of Ginny and the baby seriously.
I told you. Malfoy's voice entered her mind more quietly than usual. It was almost, almost gentle the way he did it. There was a line forming now. She didn't know why and she did not like not knowing things.
Stand. He instructed. She didn't want to. She wanted to stay on the ground, where she wasn't quite so high above the crowd. Her fears proved to be warranted. The moment she rose to her feet, what little attention had not been intently focused on her cleavage, certainly was now. The catcalls and whistles and insults flew and landed against her skin like shattered glass.
"Silence," Malfoy's voice rang out, booming and deep and rolling off the platform, down to the throngs of people in front of them. He looked to Voldemort who nodded in what appeared to be approval. It was impressive really, the speed with which people fell victim to Malfoy's commanding tone until there was no sound save for the sniffling of young girls in the banquet hall. "You may bid on the company of whoever you please for the evening. The Handler has the right to decline. You will refrain from Avada-ing anyone in attendance. The use of the cruciatus is prohibited for the rest of the evening."
Malfoy snapped and it sounded far louder than it possibly could have, causing the hold he had on the audience's attention to evaporate. Various lines continued to form, the longest, most notably, in front of Malfoy and Hermione. Other's bent women over the nearest table, taking them in the middle of the hall with no regard for anyone else or prying eyes and Hermione felt the colour drain from her face because the Carrows - and… Luna.
She was dragged away then rather abruptly, being shoved into a short corridor lit by scattered moonlight. Malfoy all but threw her then, towards the window, where she stumbled and ultimately collapsed, head falling into her hands. She could absently hear him pacing, boots clicking against the palace floor.
She was otherwise focused on two things. Luna and the burn in her lungs from a lack of oxygen, for some reason.
Luna, Luna, Luna, Luna…
"Hey," his voice sounded very far away but she could feel him near her. "Fuck. You're going to pass out."
Lovegood is fine. You, however, will not be if you do not pull yourself together for fuck's sake.
She didn't care. She didn't. Maybe if she allowed the panic to overtake her completely, maybe-
This was a nightmare. It had to be. It had to be the longest lasting nightmare in history. This couldn't be happening. This was too much. It didn't feel real. It felt like some sort of out of body experience that she couldn't process correctly.
She didn't want to be here for this. She didn't want to watch Voldemort torture Harry, take his baby, kill his wife. She didn't want to watch the systematic degradation of every one she had ever cared about and she did not want to be used in a spell to wipe Mudbloods off the face of the planet, she wanted to-
"Please," she gasped into her hands. They tasted salty. When had she started crying? "Malfoy, please. I'll do anything. I will." the words squeezed through the tightness in her throat and if Malfoy was physically capable of going any colder than he already was, the air around them would have frozen.
"Please what?" The words were angry and tense, hard like his eyes when Hermione's wild one's locked onto his.
"Kill me." she whispered, desperately latching onto his hand with both of her wet ones. She shouldn't have been the one to sacrifice everything for everyone else. She had risked everything for everyone for as long as she could remember and she didn't want to suffer anymore. She shouldn't have to. It wasn't fair.
She saw the answer in his eyes and a fresh wave of despaired sobs overtook her as she curled forward, head pressed to their joined hands.
You are of no use to me dead.
The phrase she'd heard before had a different tone to it now. It was silent for a moment as she cried, sucking air into her lungs unevenly. Her extremities were starting to go numb when a hand landed in her hair almost softly but she couldn't bring herself to care, even remotely.
When we re-join the others I will provide you with a glass of wine. You are to drink it.
"Is that an order?" she mumbled aloud.
It's a… strong suggestion. You have no reason to trust me. However, I suggest that in this case, you do.
"Okay," she shrugged and started to list sideways before her Master caught her. His hands on her shoulders kept her from curling up on her side just as footsteps approached, louder and louder - and then Malfoy's mouth was on hers, crushing her between his lips and the wall at her back. His hands were digging bruises into her upper arms and her dress left little in the way of a barrier.
The kiss was brutal. He tasted like cigarettes and spearmint. His lips were cold but soft as they manipulated her own. He was gentle but demanding and for the first time since she had begun this horrifying new reality, there were little to no spiralling thoughts taking up all available space in her mind.
The panic abated a bit until a voice cleared its throat and Malfoy's body jolted slightly before a hand reached inside of her dress to grope her breast. The nausea returned in full force as she realised she was allowing Draco Malfoy to kiss her in a way that had nothing to do with her plan.
There you are, come on. His voice was challenging. Put on a show. Fight back.
She reared back and fought his grip on her, struggling until she could pull back enough to slap him clear across the face.
A dark voice chuckled and Hermione writhed in Malfoy's arms. His arms only tightened around her, reminiscent of a boa constrictor.
Very good. The way the words of praise made her feel pissed her off.
"Enjoying yourself, Malfoy?"
"I was, Rodolphus." His tone sounded dangerous and Hermione almost shuddered. Her dress was askew and she knew Rodolphus could undoubtedly see - everything - in the fractured moonlight.
"You have her to yourself the majority of the time, Nephew." He tsked. "Do not be selfish. There's quite a line forming for the pleasure of her company."
The fight renewed inside of her at the implication and she gasped quietly, fighting the Death Eater's hold again.
Stay still. He detests submission and you are appealing to him more and more by the moment.
What was he doing? Why was he helping her? Hermione had never been so thoroughly confused in her life.
"I suppose you're right." he gave a sigh that sounded impressively disappointed. He made quite the display of eyeing Hermione hungrily and when he drew his bottom lip between his teeth Hermione's stomach flipped in on itself. It disgusted her - the stockholm syndrome-esque feelings brewing in her blood and she shoved him away so hard in response that she stumbled backwards, fighting the urge to flay her own skin from her body when Rodolphus caught her by the waist, nose diving into the curve of her neck as he inhaled deeply.
Her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and anger as they landed on Malfoy's utterly infuriated ones.
"She's quite lovely for a Mudblood." he purred into her skin. Hermione blanched and tried to wrench out of his grip on her hips.
"Hm, yes, I suppose." The indifference in his voice didn't match his eyes. Hermione's eyes squeezed shut while Rodolphus' hand skimmed up her stomach. "Quite enough, Uncle. You may wait in line with the others." He held out a hand and for once Hermione longed to take it. He was better than Lestrange - so much better. Bellatrix's husband sank his teeth into her neck then and Hermione's face crumpled with the effort of biting back the cry of pain. "Now," Malfoy bellowed. Rodolphus sighed, shoving Hermione towards Draco who caught her, angling his body between them.
The older Death Eater swiped a hand across his mouth, effectively smearing blood up his cheek as he licked his lips.
"Have you tasted her yet?" Rodolphus murmured, sucking her blood off of his bottom lip.
"No," he snarled.
"Protective are we?" Malfoy went stiff.
"Hardly." The word sounded like it was made of concrete. "I'm sure you can understand my hesitation to allow anyone else to touch what the Dark Lord has so graciously entrusted me with. If anything were to happen to her, you know better than most what would happen. Don't you? Uncle?" Malfoy seemed to get taller as he spoke, shoulders squaring off, chin lifting, eyes looking down on the man. The taunting expression on Rodolphus' face flickered briefly, nose twitching into the beginnings of a snarl.
"Watch your tone, boy."
Malfoy smirked.
"Commander, actually, Rodolphus. That will be all."
He scowled then, hatred rolling off of the Lestrange in thick waves as he spun on his heel, stalking off back down the corridor.
Malfoy dropped Hermione's arm like she'd burned him and paced away from her, drawing measured breaths through pursed lips.
"Thank you," her voice was quiet but it sounded loud when it bounced off of the walls of the alcove they were hiding in.
"Drink the wine." he said sharply before turning around and leaving Hermione to chase after him.
She followed him back to the crowded mess of vile debauchery, sticking close to his back as he wove between Death Eaters and wards. They approached Theodore and he appraised Hermione with a look of pity, eyes narrowing at the bloody bite mark on her shoulder. The blood was dripping down her skin, bleeding into the scarlet fabric clinging to what little skin it managed to cover. Theodore's eyes held lightly accusatory anger when they landed on Malfoy, only for him to shake his head infinitesimally. Some of the anger seeped from Theodore's body until Malfoy thrust a glass of wine at him. He tensed up fast enough then to give Hermione whiplash.
"Does she know?" Theodore hissed.
"No."
His brown eyes darted towards Hermione.
"I'll drink it. Whatever it is." she sighed. Theodore was angry. That much was obvious as he discreetly dumped the contents of a vial into the goblet Malfoy had handed him.
A couple Hermione vaguely recognized ploughed into them, too focused on exploring the depths of each other's mouths to keep track of their surroundings. The room was hot, sweaty and dark enough as it was. Theodore reached behind him and quickly tugged Elodie out of the couple's path - Daphne Greengrass maybe - pulling her to his side where he obviously thought she was safer.
Funny.
"You should have asked what it was." Theodore warned under his breath. Hermione shrugged and tipped the remainder of the contents into her mouth.
Her vision swam, almost instantly. Whatever he'd given her was fast acting. She swayed and reached out to steady herself on Malfoy's arm. He tensed, nostrils flaring before he reigned in whatever emotion he'd been about to show.
"I don't like that," she pouted, watching through blurry eyes as her own hand reached out to touch the sharp angles of his face. She heard Theodore sigh heavily.
"Happy?" he snapped.
"Hardly." Malfoy hissed back. "What else would you have had me do?"
"Give her the choice."
"She would have chosen wrong."
Theodore snickered and Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion, looking back and forth between the two.
"You know who you sound like?"
"Watch your fucking mouth, Nott." Malfoy growled, prying Hermione's hand off of his bicep as he leaned into Theodore's space. They were close enough to pass breaths back and forth. That thought made her giggle. Both sets of eyes shot to her, Theodore's clouded with concern.
"Yes, sir, Monsieur Malfoy." he spat, promptly grabbing Elodie by the hand and dragging her away.
Hermione blinked. It was maybe the longest blink of all time because when she reopened her eyes she was back on the platform, standing beside Malfoy's chair in front of a line of people.
With one pale hand, he waved at the line and with the other, he wrapped his long fingers around her hip, tugging her down into his lap. She fell easily, straddling him but facing outwards. His hand was splayed possessively over her stomach and her vision was going in and out until it faded to nothing.
Nineteen: Although You Love Me Draco POV This chapter may be skipped if you so wish. Contains: Darkness and Sadness and Rape. Pretty much all of the Draco POV chapters will be skippable and sad.It was some variation of temporary Amortentia, Calming Draught, and a liquid confundus of sorts. Theo had brewed it rather recently. Whatever it was had yet to be tested on anyone other than Elodie Haywood and she was not exactly the baseline for sanity.
Theo had reported Elodie's altered behaviour under the influence of his concoction and, most importantly, the fact that she had not remembered any of it. She'd had flashes here and there but nothing coherent.
And now, with Granger pliant and confused in his lap, he was grateful for that. Her friends were being brutally raped and assaulted across the room and there was a line of drooling Death Eaters and Werewolves pining after her. Some touched themselves as they stared at her hungrily.
Draco tried to keep his gaze forward. His palm splayed over Granger's stomach, serving the purpose of both keeping her still and alerting others to the fact that she was his. The show he had to put on was not one he looked forward to. It was nauseating. As was the thought of entertaining each and every bid that poured from masked mouths for the company of the witch on his lap.
Granger was fidgeting, nuzzling her nose against his neck and pulling at the front of his robes. It was like she had dissolved into a love sick school girl vying for his attention. Her skin was burning up beneath his palm, which he tried to use to hold her still. She was mumbling nonsensical nothings against him and it was tempting, really, to focus on that and her and her blissful ignorance instead of the ongoing shit-show. Though if he ever dared join her in this level of unawareness, it was conceivable that the entirety of the Wizarding World would crumble.
With a barely there crook of his finger, he beckoned forward the first bidder. His fingers flexed against Granger's abdomen, pressing her more firmly against his chest as if that would protect her from Rookwood.
The man slammed a pouch into Draco's hand, ripping the mask from his face. His smirk betrayed his cockiness.
"Arrogant this evening, are we Augustus?" Draco's voice washed over the space between them, dampening the spark in Rookwood's eyes.
"You would be too had you just taken out another Rebel Safe House on the Dark Lord's behalf." His nose twitched and his mouth curved into more of a sneer. Draco pursed his lips thoughtfully and weighed the pouch in his hand before tossing it back to him while dismissively turning his gaze on the next man. Rookwood sputtered angrily and Draco levelled him with darkened eyes.
"Rules are rules. Need I repeat them?"
Rookwood's teeth ground together before he shook his head and stomped away. Mulciber was next. Granger whined something incoherent and Draco clenched his jaw when her lips moved against the hollow of his throat. The Death Eater's tongue traced his lips as his eyes stalked every square inch of bared skin.
"What do you want?" Mulciber hissed, eyes never once leaving the girl. Draco shifted in his seat, bracing an elbow on the arm rest while Granger giggled, slipping into place between his thigh and the chair. She turned, tucking her small body up closer to him, hand trailing up and down his chest.
Occlude, occlude, occlude.
"I want for you to show me some respect and look me in the eye when you're speaking to me, Mulciber. Move along." he drawled, adding another brick to the wall which was already shaking under the weight of Granger's chaotic thoughts.
Then, the fucking witch in his lap was moving again. She was moving until she straddled him, thighs and most of her arse bared to the room while she tucked her head into his neck. She slipped in her haste, and his arm around her waist was all that kept her from crashing over the armrest. His fingers were starting to ache from the force with which he gripped the wooden chair.
Sit fucking still. He pushed the order from his mind to hers and felt her freeze for a minute when his words registered.
"You can't stand me at all, can you?" she pouted, big brown eyes peering up at him, glittering with tears. For fuck's sake. "I could be useful to you, you know." she murmured, running her nose up his neck. He was going to kill Theo. "I could be good."
"Amycus," Draco cleared his throat loudly, and tipped his head in greeting.
"How much?" he asked, eyes pinned on Draco's pale hand against her bare back.
"I have no need for your Galleons, Carrow." he forced boredom into every letter of the sentence. "Besides," he tensed as her fingers threaded into his hair. "The idea of you breaking yet another one of my toys does not quite appeal to me." Amycus scowled, but just as he opened his mouth to speak again, he was being shoved aside by Rabastan Lestrange.
Draco tensed, involuntarily tightening his arm around Granger's waist.
"No." He said through gritted teeth, meeting Rabastan's wild eyes with his own.
"Hm," he hummed. "I would not be so quick to decline, Young Malfoy." The psychopath's voice had taken on a sing-song quality, reminiscent of Bellatrix herself.
Draco arched an eyebrow and fought the urge to tug pieces of Granger's dress together to cover her.
He was a dragon through and through and the mere idea of sharing his belongings made him homicidal.
"And why is that, Rabastan?" he sighed.
"I've arranged a deal with my sister-in-law." he whispered, bending close enough to Draco that a curl of Granger's brushed Lestrange's nose. "A trade. Ten minutes with the Mudblood, for ten minutes with your mother." Draco's body went still, face betraying nothing. Rabastan knew he had him though and that was evident in the smirk on his scarred face. The Dark Lord had taken an interest in the conversation now, snake-like eyes landing on the exchange with curiosity.
This wasn't the plan. He had accounted for all manner of bribes for his Ward. He had prepared his defence for each possibility, crafting them carefully to avoid any suspicion.
His soul had taken on enough darkness to last a lifetime without selling somebody else's body for pocket change. This evil was not necessary and he'd planned his way around it. And yet, he'd never factored in the use of his mother as a bargaining chip.
Ten minutes alone could help him determine the extent of the damage. It could help him gather enough information for himself and Theo to begin researching how to help her. He could maybe even heal her a bit if he could figure out what had broken inside of her. But, the woman sprawled across him was innocent. She was staring up at him like an injured kneazle, and, regardless of the fact that it was artificially induced, she trusted him and- Merlin save him, he couldn't do it.
"No." he repeated through gritted teeth. Rabastan's smirk grew as he straightened and stared down at Draco. Hermione cowered and buried her face in Draco's robes.
"You seem a bit protective of her, Young Malfoy."
Draco could have sworn he heard Blaise whistle from the crowd. The room had gone silent. A pale hand lifted from the armrest and his hand twitched, just barely, but enough to signal Theo. He was quickly and clumsily making his way onto the stage within moments, pulling Granger off of him and pulling her into his side. With Draco's lap no longer occupied, he stood from his chair and broadened his shoulders until he was towering over Rabastan.
"Would you like to try again?" His face was gaunt and threatening, exuding anger from every pore. Rabastan scoffed. Draco's wand twitched wordlessly and Rabastan started to choke, blood filling his mouth and pouring down his chin. Witches and wizards screamed as the man's tongue fell to the ground with a disgusting plop. "If you cannot address me properly, you will not address me at all." he hissed before lifting his head to address the rest of the room.
He resembled a god where he stood. Tall, pale, ghostlike and regal. He commanded the attention of those in front of him, rage and darkness rolling off of him in nearly visible waves. The Dark Lord was smirking proudly and that in and of itself was sickening. But he could not lose his position. He could not lose their respect. Not if he wanted to-
"You will all do well to remember who you answer to." His voice was dangerous despite the lack of volume he gave to it. "It is the Dark Lord who has bestowed these opportunities unto you. It is me who he has chosen to carry out his vision. Not you." he snarled. "This?" He pointed aggressively at Granger. "The Golden Girl? She is my reward. I am under no obligation to share. I am your Commander. He is your Lord. Until one of you challenges me and wins, she will remain mine. In the meantime, you will mind your tongue." He looked down to where Rabastan was gargling his own blood. "Or you will lose it." He turned to the Dark Lord and bowed low. "My Lord," and then he grabbed Granger and apparated on the spot.
Theo appeared via Portkey moments later with Elodie in tow.
"The goal was to make her less appealing, Theo!" Draco roared. Hermione had crumbled into a heap on the love seat behind him, Elodie making her way over to the witch and flitting about rather uselessly in an attempt to care for her.
"Yes, you git. And you picked your poison. You can either have the snivelling morons drooling after her or the sadistic fucks wanting to break her. You cannot have it both ways." Theo shouted back, palms coming up and colliding with Draco's chest. "Fuck." he screamed, pulling his hands back and threading them through his curls. "You selfish prat." He exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his thin face. "You made me do that." He jabbed a finger against Draco's chest and refused to meet the concerned silver eyes staring back at him. "You made me turn her into that." he pointed vaguely.
Draco was staring at Theo as he broke down, watching him collapse in on himself.
"I'm not like you." Theo whispered, dropping into a wingback chair behind him, head falling heavy into his hands. "I can't do-" he gestured vaguely, "That. I feel all of it, mate. All of it." Theo's voice cracked and Draco sighed, taking a step forward and dropping one hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I know, Theo." Draco dropped into a crouch and breathed deeply through the strain on his occlumency. "Hey," He squeezed his shoulder. Theo's eyes lifted and what stared back at Draco was so full of pain and guilt that he felt the brick wall inside of him crack. "You're right. But it's not on you, it's on me." Theo's answering laugh was hollow.
"I don't want that either. You carry enough." he sighed. Draco gave a singular, humourless laugh and leaned his forehead against Theo's briefly, squeezing his shoulder again before standing up. "I'll do whatever you need. You know that. You aren't alone. I just…" he sighed once more. "Had a moment."
"Understandable." Draco moved his robes aside to shove his hands into his trouser pockets.
"Tell me what you're doing." Theo insisted, leaning back in the chair.
"No," Draco sighed, glancing back at Elodie and Granger who were seated together on the loveseat, Hermione dozing in and out of consciousness while Elodie pulled pins from her hair.
"I can help."
"You do help."
"I can be of more help."
"What is helpful, Nott, is your safety. Focus on that." Theo flicked his wand and caught the bottle of Ogden's that flew into his palm. Draco hummed appreciatively. "That," He reached for the short glasses on the table. "Is also helpful."
The blond dropped into a chair while Theo poured a few fingers of fire whiskey into each glass. They tapped their cups together, each sipping from their own before lowering them back to the table.
The amber coloured liquid was sloshing back and forth against the crystal as Draco stared, melodically tapping his signet ring against the glass a handful of times before sipping from it again.
The girls looked tired and dazed where they sat and Draco was suddenly struck by the similarity: he and Theo drinking whiskey in their Death Eater garb while two innocent little things tried to stay awake on the couch behind them.
They'd found themselves in a similar position as children, watching Lucius and Nott, Sr. talk business while trying to keep up with what they were saying, too tired to pay much attention.
"The fuck you laughing at, mate?" Theo grumbled.
"Look familiar?" He pointed his cup at the witches. Theo snorted and downed what remained of his whiskey.
"You always caught on quicker than I did." he mused, pouring himself another.
"Hm." Draco hummed dismissively. "You were always too good for this life. You saw the best in everyone. Even when our fathers were stringing creatures up in the sitting room." he scoffed.
"They didn't deserve it, Drakey Boy." Theo watched Draco's ring tap against the cup. "But you do."
Theo Flooed Elodie back to Nott Manor shortly after they'd each finished their third drink. Pipsey had escorted a mostly unconscious Granger back to her rooms, leaving Draco with nothing to do but check the wards and sleep if he could.
His property was currently home to two of the most high profile witches in the resistance, both of whom were vital to the Dark Lord's plan, and to his own. Should the resistance plan some sort of rescue and actually manage to succeed, Draco's entire family would undoubtedly be tortured and murdered in the most gruesome way imaginable and as enticing as that sounded, Draco would have preferred not to fail yet again.
So by the time the wards had been double and triple checked, Draco was dragging and hardly conscious beneath all of the exhaustion caving in on him.
His bed rushed towards his face as he fell into it unceremoniously, hands unsteady as he reached for the potions Pipsey had laid out for him: dreamless sleep, calming draught, pain relief and a multitude of others. He trusted her selections. Draco downed them and forced himself to count to three before letting the occlumency crumble to pieces until it was nothing but rubble.
The feelings overwhelmed him, pulling him under like a rip current. His vision swam, his chest cracked wide open and nothing but pain, guilt, fear, sadness, disgust and every other negative emotion flooded each vein, blood cell and empty space inside of him - and there was no shortage of emptiness inside of Draco Malfoy.
He thanked Merlin for silencing charms as it became unbearable and he screamed until his voice shattered and the potions knocked him unconscious.
