I'm back! Please bare with me on this one and if you need anything cleared up read the Authors Note at the end. Enjoy & Review!
After Voldemort's fit, Bellatrix carefully ushered the Dark Lord away, much to his protests, as Pettigrew practically dragged Hermione back to the dungeons.
Her body was positively aching with the effects of the Crucitas Curse. Sure, she's read more then her fair share about unforgivable curses, but the pain talked about in text is nothing compared to the actual effects of it.
Upon crashing onto the cold stone floor, her aching hands searching wildly for the book that apparated with her. Once finding it, Hermione clutched it desperately to her chest and continuously spoke to herself, fearing to end up like the Longbottoms.
"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm seventeen years old. My parents are," she chokes at the thought of them, but soon pushses it down, knowing she needs to remember, "my parents are Jean and Hugo. I go to Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardy. My best friends are Harry Potter and," a tear streaks down her face, "and Ron Weasley. And I am going to be okay."
Hermione does this for what feels like hours, but she can't be sure, there's no light letting her no if times passing. No clock. Nothing. Just her and this book. The one she's been rubbing her hands over wildly as means to grasp her to be okay.
She starts for probably the hundredth time in a hoarse whisper, "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm seventeen," before she can go on the terrible creak of the door sounds, followed by heavy footsteps.
Hiding the book behind her back she cowers into the corner, closing her eyes to feign sleep.
"Up!" Peter Pettigrew's shrill voice exclaims.
She doesn't move.
"I said up! Don't make me come in there." He threatens, rattling the bars.
Knowing there's no use in fighting it, she slowly drags her body forward, taking the sight of the flickering candle as comfort. Finally some light.
She has half the heart to snag it from Wormtail, take his wand, and apparate, but she knows she can't. Hermione can't explain it, but she can just feel the lack of magic down here, like it's been drained from the air.
Clearly fed up with her pace, Wormtail's nasty hand reaches out to grab at Hermione's roughly. Her body is still weak from before, that and lack of food and water, so again, she's being practically dragged away.
"Time for some more fun." He laughs wildly.
Hermione rolls her eyes, Voldemort and Bellatrix may scare her, but this man never will. Not when all she can think is about how much of a coward he is, killing Harry's parents, then begging for his life at the hands of his victims son.
Before she can register it, she's at the top of the steps. The dusty room somehow darker then it was before.
Her body is on fire from all the movements, she wants nothing more but to crumble right then and there. However, her eyes briefly skim the large room, finding a multitude of death eaters, and she knows to remain strong.
"Well done Wormtail." Voldemort praises as one of his unruly nails strokes the large snake.
Quickly, Pettigrew bows his head, looking ridiculous, "of course master." He squeals.
Hermione can't help but scoff silently from behind.
"I do apologize for my fit earlier, it seems as if your friend as been up to something. He dreams of you." Voldemort tells Hermione, dark eyes piercing her own.
Proudly, she ignores him, her chin held high.
This causes boisterous laughs throughout the room.
"Brave one innit?" She vaguely hears who she thinks to be Dolohov whisper to Greyback, causing Bellatrix to shush them.
"I know all about you Hermione Granger." He begins circling her, "a Muggle from Hampstead. Best friends to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. A loyal colleague of mine speaks in high regards when it comes to your intelligence. Says your brain is pestering and annoying, but brilliant." Though coming from anyone else it could be considered a compliment, the way the dark wizard says it, his voice is riddled with disgust.
She gulps as he veers closer, tracing a pale finger down her jaw.
"Am I correct?" He asks with a grin, baring his decaying set of teeth.
Hermione bites her tongue. Part of her wants to remain silent, to take a stand, but another part of her burns with anger at his worlds. At one specific comment.
"N, no." She stutters, wishing her voice was more firm. "No." She repeats sharply, "no, I'm a witch, I'm not Muggle." And there's nothing wrong with being one, but she's a witch, through snd through. Brightest one of her age.
Laughs filled the room. Once they've died down, Voldemort backed away from her to speak.
"You see, back when I attended that wretched little school, the Ministry had just finalized the null and void of a law which allowed Purebloods to control a Muggle born witches marriage." Hermione knew all about this of course, but she wouldn't let him know that, "Ancient magic you see. The only way a Muggle born witch, like yourself, could claim her magic was if they were in a blood binding agreement with a Pureblood male. The Ministry itself used to arrange the marriages, unless of course," he pauses eyeing her with a dark grin, "you're one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
Again, like the genius she was, Hermione had read plenty on the Sacred Twenty-Eight families of Wizarding Britain. There were a multitude of familiar names on that list, Black, Malfoy, Longbottom, Lestrange, Slughorn, Weasley.
She tried to bring it up to Ron a few times, but he seemed rather disinterested to be put onto some list that's meant to represent superior blood. Especially when people like the Malfoy's also adorned that group.
"Lovely little policy, don't you think Mudblood? I'm sure it would benefit you greatly if brought back." He commented, almost casually.
Without helping herself, one of Hermione's eyebrows shot up, confused what he was playing at this time.
"From what I hear you're quiet taken with a Weasley." He spits the name nastily.
Hermione squirms, how would they even know this? Her mind quickly turns to one Severus Snape.
'A loyal colleague of mine speaks in high regards when it comes to your intelligence. Says your brain is pestering and annoying, but brilliant'
He can see her reaction, read the worry of the mention of the young Weasley on her face. And it's perfect for Voldemort. He knows just what makes her tick.
"As I strive to make this world pure again, I fear that it will take time. Until then, no pureblood would dare reproduce with your kind. Not even blood traitors like the Weasley's."
Again, Hermione tries to bite her tongue, but to no avail. She can't remain silent. Not when it comes to them, to him.
"You're, you're wrong." She says shakily, "they don't care. Especially Ron." The brunette states, voice faltering over the name.
Again, the room suppresses laughter. Like the lot of them are only allowed to do so if Voldemort initiates it first.
"Am I?" He asks darkly, stepping back to her, if he had a nose, it would surely be touching hers. "Tell me, why is that all Weasley's, past and present, have only consummated with other purebloods. You surely can't believe, what you're saying. And they call you brilliant." He laughs openly, causing the room to erupt in jovial chuckles.
And she couldn't take it, breaking her own will, she blurted out something she'd surely pay for, "you're a half-blood! You're a hypocrite. Trying to clean up the wizarding world of impurity, you're not even a pure blood yourself!" She fumed, amazed she didn't stumble once.
Bellatrix, offended for the Dark Lord, took a step to raise her wand, but Voldemort waved her off.
"How dare you speak to me that way? You'll learn to keep your mouth shut Mudblood," then he raised his wand and smiled, "Crucio!"
Like before, Hermione crumbled to the ground, repressing a scream as her body thrashed wildly.
Something cold pushes on her cheek, she looks up to notice his dirty foot keeping her still.
"You have no power here stupid thing! You have no power out there either. Potter, is just as naive as you to make you believe otherwise." He claims.
And just as his wand comes to meet Hermione again and cast an unforgivable on her, she sees something behind his eyes.
At first, he stumbles back slightly, but quickly recovers, pretending that didn't happen. But Hermione knows, she's seen it too many times with Harry. She knows what's coming.
She knows his is her chance.
His white hand flies to his bald head as he clutches at it wildly. Around the room, people are gasping as Malfoy sends his wide back upstairs.
Hermione musters any and all strength to prop herself onto her palms.
"Harry!" She calls madly.
Voldemort's head turns to meet hers, but he can't manage to open his eyes.
"Harry! It's me! I don't know where I am. Ron, tell him," she doesn't finish.
Instead, something connects with her eye socket making her fall down to the ground with a thud as she clutches at her face, moaning in pain.
"Next time you do that, someone will die!" Voldemort roared angrily.
Hermione writhed in pain, at both the terrible pain in her eye and at his words. She'd called out to Harry on a whim, a theory, and now there was a promise of death behind that.
Little did she know, like usual, Hermione had been right. Harry had managed to bridge the previously forged connection between him and Voldemort by thought.
The chosen one had been thinking so hard about Hermione, where she was, if she was alright, that he had managed to use legilimency against the Dark Lord. He had managed to see Hermione, if only for a moment.
"Take care of this." And he apparated on the spot.
Bellatrix was the one who stalked forward, "you'll learn to keep your mouth shut Mudblood. I promise." She smiled as a jet of red flew from her wand, "Crucio!"
And despite her mouth have gotten her into enough trouble, Hermione whispers quietly to herself. Best she can through the pain.
"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm seventeen years old. My parents are Jean and Hugo. I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My best friend is Harry Potter," and without realizing what she's thinking, it slips, "and I'm in love With Ron Weasley."
Not even letting the words shake her, so overcome with pain and fear, she goes on, "And I'm going to be okay..."
...
Draco lays in his bed. Going downstairs these days was a dreadful event. For whatever reason, the Dark Lord has taken to his home as head quarters, rather than that shawty apartment in Knock Turn Alley.
This Christmas had been anything but happy. The impending doom of having to kill the most highly regarded wizard in Britain or be killed himself obviously weighed heavily on his mind. Not only his, but clearly his mothers, and though he'd never let it show, his fathers too.
A few hours ago, his Mum had popped in, advising Draco to stay clear of down stairs. Presumably, he believed this had to do with the Dark Lord's presence, his mother had refrained to mention the screams that echoed throughout the manors was one of his classmates.
Like earlier, a soft knock came on his door, pulling the blonde from his thoughts, "come in." He grumbled.
His mother entered with a wrapped parcel and placed it on his desk, "I forgot to give you this earlier." She said almost sadly.
"It's okay." He assures, this was the one person he didn't need walls up with.
A pop of apparition and an echoing scream pierced his door frame, making him shut his eyes.
"I can always cast a silencing charm." Narcissa offered.
He shook his head, "it's fine." He saw his mother's face drop, "gotta stay vigilant." He eases, teasing in his voice.
The older woman manages a chuckle, it's forced and dry, "right of course."
Another scream cut through the air, making Draco flinch.
At this, his mother wraps her arms around his shaking form and rocks him gently.
"Why here?" He sounds like he's about to cry, "why in this house? The one we grew up in." A tear streaks Narcissa's face, "why us?" Draco finishes.
Pulling him away so his gray eyes look into hers, Narcissa speaks, "you say the word Draco, you say it and we will leave. You and me son." She whispers, scared someone may hear.
And he takes a moment to think about it. He really does.
No more adhering the demands of dark wizards, no more dealing with his fathers wrath, or putting up with his crazy aunt.
It is most definitely an appealing thought, but one he knows to be nothing but a fantasy.
Had he and his Mum leave, they would surely be found eventually. Whether by his father, Bellatrix, or the Dark Lord himself. And knowing his mother, Draco is positive she'd take the blame for it all to spare his life. Something he couldn't live with.
"No," he tells her, shaking his head, "we can't. Not until I finish this, then me and you we can go off somewhere. A small cottage, like the one you said you went to when you were younger. In the countryside. A place so small, it couldn't even be the headquarters for anything." He jokes lightly.
Another tear leaves Narcissa's eyes as she brushes back his blonde hair, "you are so brave Draco. It shouldn't be you, but it is." She tells him, "and I promise, nothing will happen to you. I've made sure of that." She says recalling the promise she made with Severus Snape only months ago.
Draco doesn't question it, he can't, in fear he'll break down himself at whatever his mothers pulled on his behalf. Instead, he tries to make light of it all.
"Besides, in just a few days my biggest problem will be Potter and his friends. Always in my business, the lot of them." He tries to joke, but it falls rather flat.
Instead, he can feels his Mum's arms tense around him as she moves to wipe at her eyes with the back of her wrist.
"Draco, there's something you must know," she starts, until door bursts open, startling them both.
Thankfully, it's not You-Know-Who, but who is standing in the doorway, isn't much better.
"Cissy, sorry to break things up." And to Bellatrix's credit, she does sound a little remorseful.
Narcissa stands and wipes at her robes, "nonsense Bella, what's wrong?" She asks her sister.
"The Dark Lord, he requested Draco fulfill a task for him," she begins before Narcissa firmly cuts her off.
"If this is about that, Draco is fully aware. Surely the Dark Lord can't expect it to be done while he's on holiday, at home." She challenges.
The other witch shakes her head, "this is a new task." She notices her nephew squirm, "not to worry Draco, it's much simpler. Come." Bellatrix instructs.
Reluctantly, Draco swings his legs off the bed and onto his floor as he slowly walks over to his aunt. Her heels click on the floor away from his room, beckoning Draco to follow, before he does he shares a look with his mother. Full of terror and regret.
Narcissa responds, eyes full of love and support. Silently letting him know he'd be alright.
They end up in the kitchens. There's a few house elves rushing about, but they all monetarily pause at the pairs presence, bowing their small heads.
"The lot of you have what I requested?" She screeched.
A small elf came over with a metal try. On it seemed to be some sort of porridge and a glass of water. The thing bowed as it offered it to Bellatrix.
"Here you are Madame Lestrange."
Bellatrix motioned for Draco to grab it, which he did moments later.
"Back to work." She told the elf, who scurried away and continued cleaning the oven.
"What is this for?" Draco couldn't help but ask as he followed his aunt out of the large kitchen.
"You see Draco, we have a prisoner in the dungeons. The Dark Lord has trusted it to you." She says like it's an honor.
"Me?" He can't help he retort, "why me and not some elf?" He bites his tongue to keep from suggesting that waste of space Pettigrew.
Bellatrix stops and turns fully to her nephew, "this prisoner is very special Draco. It means a lot to the Dark Lord and taking it the food that is needed, to be tasked with this, it shows he holds you in high regard. It's an honor." She tells him.
If it's an honor why don't you do it? He almost questions aloud before he stops himself.
"So I am to go down and make sure it eats?" He's a little worried, by the use of the word 'it' he imagines a wild Hippogriff waiting for him. He's had plenty of run ins with those to last a lifetime
She nods, "we must make sure it stays alive. Stay around long enough to make sure it eats something." The dark haired woman sounded almost reluctant at the statement, not wanting Draco to think she cared for the prisoners well being.
After all, she didn't.
"Alright." He acknowledges, making a move to the stairwell.
"Wait!" She calls making him turn.
Then a small candle is conjured onto the tray, "take this. It's dark and magic is unattainable in the dungeons."
He nods to her.
"Thank you Draco. I will be sure to let the Dark Lord know how willing you've been to submit to his requests." She appraises.
Not knowing what to say, he offers his aunt a tight lipped smile before finally disappearing down the steps.
Once he reached the bottom, he suddenly got colder, a chill working its way up his spine. Not only that, but the air, it was tenser. Like he could feel it halt the magic coursing through his veins.
Peeking over, he notices the first two cells empty, only leaving two. He notices the door to the one on the right shut, so assumes whatever it is, is being held in there.
He cleared his throat awkwardly, "I have your meal." Draco does his best to sound like his father, but soon decides he doesn't like that.
He places the tray on the floor as the candle provides the brief flickers of a shadow huddled into the corner. It's shape is human.
"You must eat. I can't leave until you do." He informs whoever it is.
The figure makes no moves. He even waits a few moments to give it time.
Still, nothing.
"If you don't eat I'll have to get someone else down here." It's an empty threat, but seems effective as the thing crawls toward.
As it crawls toward Draco can confirm they're human, almost familiar to him. On a whim he crouches down.
Her hairs wild, more than he's ever seen it. Her fingernails are dirtied. And there's a terrible bruise ringing her eye. But just behind it, he can make out familiar brown eyes. One he's never seen look so dull.
He gulps.
If the Dark Lord doesn't kill him, Potter and Weasley surely will.
He can't manage anything but one word, "Granger?"
Sorry for the wait! My health hasn't been in order but I've just started writing again so I can post. I hope you guys enjoyed.
If you're worried Draco is in the story for a plot line later it's not at all Hermione/Draco friendly, or very Draco friendly for that matter. I'm sure there's a million brilliant stories that outline his redemption. This isn't one of them.
Until next time here's a preview!
"Death eaters like Dolohov and Lestrange, they're not easy to find Ron. We've been doing double time since the Department of Mysteries, but we're not closer then we were." Kingsley informed quietly from a corner of the room.
"Well we have to start somewhere don't we?" He retorted.
"We?" Bill repeated with a cocked eyebrow.
Please review!
