I don't think I'll ever be able to explain how incredibly sorry I am for making this so late. To tell the truth, I have been busy, but for the most part I've just been forgetting about it when I did have time. I hope you'll forgive me, and that most of you are still out there.
This chapter is pretty short and not that exciting, but the next chapter will hopefully be lots of fun, because it involves… well, I'll let you figure that out on your own.
Hope you enjoy. Read and Review!
Chapter 10
Draco found his father at the front door, sharing a few words with the people leaving.
"Father," he started.
He father merely waved him off, with an annoyed, "Not now, Draco," and continued conversing with the Death Eaters before him. They had all stayed well past midnight, and were only now departing in the wee hours in the morning.
"Father, I need to speak with you. Now."
His father ushered the last of the members out of the door, slowly pulling it closed behind him. "What is it, Draco?"
"Where did you get the Granger mudblood?" he asked, trying to keep his voice full of malice. "I thought she was supposed to be staying at Hogwarts?"
His father seemed to lack interest in the subject, and turned and started down the hallway. "That is none of your business, son," he answered.
"Where are you holding her?"
His father turned to him unexpectedly, and Draco stopped short behind him. "You know not to ask such questions. Her whereabouts are none of your concern."
"But-"
"It is late, Draco. You should go on to bed."
He turned away from him with a disapproving sneer and continued on to another part of the house.
Draco fled from the hallway, traveling up the stairs towards his room. This mind was racing, unable to handle all the information. So now he didn't have to hide the knowledge of the prisoners from his father; his father knew he had seen her. On the contrary, however, his father was now abusing them, making it harder for him to get them out unscathed. The longer he waited to conceive a plan, the larger the chance grew that they would be injured; or worse, killed.
He had to act. Soon.
*
Snape wasn't sure when he had drifted off to sleep in the night, but when he awoke his back ached from leaning against a hard stone wall at an awkward angle for a long period of time. He shifted with an anguished grunt, and it took a moment to realize he still had something in his arms.
The weight of something rather small became apparent as he moved, and he found that this something was curled into a ball in his hold and was breathing shallowly but rhythmically in his grasp. It took him a moment to remember what had happened the last time he had been conscious. He realized that Hermione had buried herself in his cloak, and though asleep was still clinging to him with one small hand rather desperately. As he moved she took a deep breath and he feared he had forced her to wake, but she merely curled further into him and slept on.
He rocked her for a while, knowing he had little else to do, and couldn't get up even if he wanted to. He was surprised that she hadn't pulled away from him the night before (he figured it had been the night, since their meetings were rarely held during the day; he couldn't tell either way, though). He found himself questioning her silent trust in him. Though he was cold and callous, she still seemed to place unquestionable faith in him and he could feel it as she rested peacefully in his hold.
A sudden vibration in the floor halted his thoughts, and he suddenly felt himself holding Hermione possessively closer to him.
"Who's there?"
No one answered, and he realized stupidly that even if they had, he wouldn't have heard them anyway.
He didn't feel any change for a few moments, but then the floor shook again; the door must be closing, he figured. No one had entered that he had felt, but suddenly he felt heavy footsteps marching over the floor. He felt them gliding closer to them, and tried to shift into a more defensive position, but found it difficult to move at all with Hermione in his lap. He just cradled her closer, hiding her face with his arm. "What do you want?" he asked angrily, his eyes darting back and forth, trying to find something to focus on.
The person stopped, but Snape knew they must be right in front of him. They didn't seem to be threatening to him, but one could never be sure.
"Who are you?"
He felt someone take his hand; it wasn't threatening in any way, and seemed to be begging for his trust instead of trying to hurt him. His arm was pulled towards the stranger, when a small object was placed in his hand.
It fit in his palm, and was flat. It felt like a patch; he could feel the threads that were sewn in elaborate patterns across its face. This patch was obviously something that described this person. He tired to make out the design on the small patch. There seemed to be a picture of something in the center, but it felt like the shape of a rope or coil. Snape wasn't sure what this meant, and moved onto the letters embroidered at the top. The first letter felt like something curled, possibly… an S. Snape felt the next letter, and was sure it was an L, though he thought it could have been an E. The next letter was definitely a Y, he was sure of it. SEY… Nothing he knew of was spelled anything like that…possibly SLY… Slytherin? It had to be a Hogwarts patch. This person was a student at Hogwarts, and this patch came from their school robes.
It had to be Draco.
"Draco," said Snape with relief, holding out the patch for him to take back.
He felt the patch leave his grasp, but kept his hand outstretched. "What are you doing here?" he asked, holding out his hand for Draco to answer him. He didn't understand what was happening, however, when Draco didn't take his hand to respond.
*
Hermione slowly began to surface out of unconsciousness, but only very timidly. First her brain began to process her surroundings, but she remained half asleep and didn't make a move to get up. She allowed herself to carefully come out of hibernation, and didn't force her brain to move any faster than it wanted to.
First her brain registered the warmth that spread through her. Instead of the usual coldness she woke to most, her body was enveloped in tender, wonderful, glorious heat. She curled further into herself, snuggling into the fabric she was sleeping against. She felt a strong yet soft body move underneath her hand. A steady, pulsing heartbeat thundered against her ear. It calmed her and made her feel sheltered and safe, as did the arms that encircled her and supported her. It had been a while since she had felt so protected; so secure. Never had anything as simple as the beating of a heart soothed her the way this did.
One arm that had supported her let go, and reached out in front of the body. She was becoming more awake now; things were beginning to make more sense. She became aware that the body she was cradled against was Snape; she cracked her eyes open slightly and realized that he was reaching out to Draco, who sat crouched before them.
He had brought with him another sack of food. He was, however, having some difficultly communicating with Snape. She realized she had to move and show him.
She shifted against Snape slowly, her muscles still sore and screaming in protest of her getting up. Snape was startled by her suddenly movement, and tried to hold her against him in surprise.
She gave a soft groan of protest as he tired to keep her from moving, pressing into her bruised body. Draco looked to her in alarm, and then noticed she had finally awoken. It's alright, she told Snape, taking his hand. Draco looked on, an amused expression on his face as he watched her write into his hand. "What on earth are you doing?" he said mockingly.
"He can't hear you," she answered, and was surprised to find her voice so hoarse. "You have to write in his hand, as if with a quill." She took Snape's hand and held it out to Draco. "Here, talk to him. He knows it's you."
Draco accepted the hand that was offered to him timidly, as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it. "He can tell what I'm writing?" he said skeptically, a sneer settling on his face. "What is this, that muggle gesture-language?"
"It's called sign-language, fool," she replied bitterly, "and that's only for people who are just deaf, not also blind. He can't see, either, incase you couldn't tell. He wouldn't be able to use it."
Draco looked up at Snape's face, though his expression held no amusement or contempt. "He's blind… and deaf?" he muttered, looking at his mentor with pity.
"Yes, but he's not stupid, and he's expecting you to say something to him."
He looked down at Snape's hand that reached out to him, expecting a message.
"What am I supposed to say?"
"Tell him why you're here."
Draco hesitated, but slowly began to write into Snape's hand. Food, he stated dumbly, finding that he felt rather foolish to be speaking to his teacher this way. Snape seemed to understand, though, and looked more relaxed as he realized he was about to eat for the first time in a little less than twenty-four hours.
"Now what?" sneered Draco.
Hermione glared at him, "Why don't you give it to him?"
Draco heaved the bag into Snape's hands as Hermione slid out of his lap and onto the stone floor. She helped him open the bag and handed him a small biscuit, unscrewing the cap on the flask for him. Draco watched, taking note of the bruises and cuts covering her skin. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked, sounding spiteful.
She took a biscuit, eyeing him hatefully. "You would know," she said scathingly, "You were there."
Draco became defensive almost instantly. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
Her eyes watered with hot tears, "You just watched it happen! You didn't try to stop your father or that other dirty man!" She wiped her eyes angrily.
"And what was I supposed to do?" Draco spat. "If I had said anything I would have blown my cover completely!"
"You still could have done something!" cried Hermione brokenly. "Anything would have been better than letting that man have his way!"
Lacking a better vent for her emotions, she broke down and sobbed heavily into her tattered robes. Draco watched her without moving, torn between anger, resentment, and pity. Though he could never really feel compassion for her, he had seen the awful things that had gone on during his father's meetings. A burning anger coursed in the pit of his intestines, knowing that she was blaming him for what had happened to her. But back in his mind he knew he couldn't blame her for her threats; they were all empty. She knew it wasn't his fault; she just needed someone to throw all the blame on so that she could find peace in herself. He tried not to take it personally.
Draco hesitated for a moment, unable to think of anything to say. He didn't even know how to begin to comfort her, even though he really didn't want to. Snape could obviously tell she was upset, and was trying to get her attention. She wouldn't take his hand, clearly not wanting to explain.
"It must have been awful."
Hermione relaxed at his words and sniffed, looking out over her arms at the opposite wall. "Awful doesn't even begin to describe it."
He didn't know how to respond to that. He looked away, quietly thinking as Hermione again ventured into the bag and pulled out more food condiments.
"How much longer do you think you two can last in here?" Draco ventured after a long silence.
"Well," said Hermione slowly through a mouthful of biscuit, "We'll have to survive as long as it takes. How long has it been since the last meeting?"
"Two days. They'll be holding another one tonight."
Draco stared off into space as he pondered, cradling his head in his arms.
"What if I was able to get you out tonight?"
Oooo… Another awful cliffhanger. I know, I deserve to be beaten over the head. Sorry.
Read and Review! As always.