Hi I'm sorry it's been so long. I've had a sudden health problem that's made it very hard to type. I've had this prewritten before but was hesitant to post. I've been getting comments on here that have been a bit upsetting. I'm all for constructive criticism, but there have been very non-constructive comments ridiculing my writing. It made me feel no one liked the story and I would stop. However, I received a lovely comment earlier today that made me realize that hey, if one person likes it then I'll post for them. So thank you to Netazlatin100 for your kind words! And hugs to anyone else supporting me, this after all, my first fic.
Just some advice, when commenting on something, please be mindful there's someone on the other side publishing their work.
Sorry for the wait, enjoy!
"Granger?" Draco's shaking voice breaks.
Hermione's brown eyes seemed to widen in both recognition and fear.
And for a fleeting moment Draco feels terrible for all the hurt he's called her. The vile names and acts brought down on her all because of his own insecurity. Because his father didn't like his pureblood elitest son being bested by a Muggleborn.
But the feeling soon passes, he's overcome with confusion and dread at the sight of her, he can't focus on what he's done. That's not what matters right now, what matters is what's been done to her in this moment.
"Why are you," he stops, "who did this? What happened?" He doesn't know what to say.
The brunette whimpers in what Draco takes as terror.
Little did he know, Hermione was scolding herself for not believing Harry, more importantly, for never getting the chance to tell him he's right. If Draco revealed his dark mark to her right now she wouldn't so much as flinch. She feels like she's seen enough to last her a lifetime, despite it not even being forty eight hours.
Draco just now notices some blood dribble down her chin causing him to hone his focus onto her face.
A purple ring around her eye flickered under the candlelight. Dark thick blood coated her nostrils as it fell over her lips and down her neck.
With shaking hands, Draco pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket and slides it through the bars.
Hermione just watches the stark white thing flutter to the ground. She stares at it warily worried this could be some sort of test.
"Clean yourself up, I'll be back." He tells her stiffly, not knowing how to act.
He stands, not bothering to see if Granger was using the thing or not. Instead, he hurried up the steps being as light on his feet as possible in case his aunt was lurking about.
He rushed into the kitchen, making all the elves momentarily stop and hunch their small
Back further to bow.
"Will someone please fetch my mother." His voice is harsh, but had underlying panic.
One of them scurried away quickly in pursuit of Mistress Malfoy.
"You," Draco pointed to an elf by the sink, "I need a pain potion."
"Of course young Master Malfoy. Right away." The wrinkly creature says hurriedly before scampering off.
The one with the potion returned before his mother. It wasn't until a few minutes later that Narcissa worriedly rushed in.
"Draco, sweetheart, are you alright?" She asked reaching out to brush some hair from his face.
Carefully, his grey eyes scanned the room to find the elves not so discreetly watching the pair. "Come with me." He whispered exiting the room, potion in hand.
They ended up to the stairs that led down to the dungeons.
"Son I don't understand, what is that the Dark Lord asked of you? That's what this is about isn't it?"
The blonde nodded, "you knew it was her didn't you Mum? That's what you tried to tell me before Aunt Bella came upstairs."
Narcissa's eyes closed at his words, a breath leaving her mouth. "Yes Draco."
"Why?" He whispered, "why is she here?"
She shook her head, "we can't speak of such things out in the open, come down. We should be alright." The woman began to descend down the steps of the dungeon.
"Bella, she brought her on Christmas. Your father tells me that the Dark Lord has been going on about her for some time now." Narcissa whispers once they reach the bottom, careful to keep Hermione out of earshot.
"Why?" Draco knew, though he'd never admit it to anyone, that Hermione was exceptionally intelligent, but it didn't stand reason. He also knew that the dark lord's end goal was Potter.
His mother shook her head, "I don't know Draco, your father does what he can to keep me away from all of this. I don't have the heart to ask either. Bella said he thinks the girl knows something."
"Does she?"
"I couldn't say. Your father has instructed me to stay upstairs, tells me that the Dark Lord has an even worse temper these days, he is having trouble using legilimency and occlumency. Something about Harry Potter's doing."
Draco gulps, "so they're trying to torture it out of her."
Reluctantly, Narcissa nods, lips pulled into a thin line.
The boy scoffs, "waste of time. Stubborn as a mule she is. She wouldn't rat out Potter or Weasley for her own life." The words tumble past his lips meant to be nasty comment, but as he finished, it hits him. She very well could lose her life over such a thing, "oh Merlin..."
Again, Hermione Granger was a Mudblood, a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe. A nuisance to his father knowing a Muggle born is smarter then his son and quiet annoying to Draco.
Deep down he knew she was ultimately the key to bothering the other two, that's why she was his favorite to pick on. Potter was like her brother and the Weasel was no doubt in love with her.
The key to breaking Harry Potter and Ron Weasley was most definitely Hermione Granger, Draco knew as much. He figured it wouldn't be long until his Darkness knew the same.
"Bella, she told me that he wants me to make sure she eats. That she stays alive in between visits." He tells his mother.
Slowly she nods, taking the thick gray potion out of his grasp, "then that's what we'll do Draco. This is just another task thrown your way, something to complete then move on." Narcissa felt for the girl, she truly did, but she knew she needed to level her son out before she could help.
"What about school? What of her when I go back?"
The terrible thoughts of the girl being dead by then suddenly flash in Narcissa's mind, but she quickly pushes them aside for Draco's sake.
"You say nothing. You continue to do what must be done. I'll take care of her." She promises with a kiss to her sons hair.
He nods beneath her.
'As for me, I hope it's Granger.'
His own voice echoes about his own head. The very words he spoke back in his second year. Guilt builds in the pit of his stomach.
"I never," he stutters quietly, "I never wanted her to die."
And he didn't, not really anyway. Maybe he was supposed to wish she would, but he can't bring himself to want that. They've both been dealt terrible fates at such a young age.
"And she won't, not as long as you do what you promised the Dark Lord." His Mum's voice breaks his thoughts reminding him of his task.
Slowly, he nods and untangles himself from his mother's hold before starting back to the flicking light down the hall.
He knelt down, his mother following suit. The first thing he noticed was the handkerchief disregarded on the stone floor, clean as ever.
Hermione had seemingly scurried off into some far corner at the sound of the footsteps.
"Gr-Granger?" Draco manages as the desperate scratch of the metal tray sliding on the floor sounds. "You need to eat." He tries.
Nothing.
"Sweetheart." Narcissa tries in the most motherly, most affectionate tone she can manage.
A small shift sounds, but Hermione isn't visible.
"Come over, we can help you." She tries softer, "I promise, I won't hurt you."
Suddenly, her frail body crawls forward and Narcissa bites her lip at the sight of her. A black eye and bloodied nose. And this is just the beginning.
"Here's a pain potion," she rolls it under, "eat some porridge first. You'll be sick if you take it on an empty stomach." She tells.
Hermione just eyes the bowl carefully, Draco can't seem to understand why, but Narcissa does.
Slowly, she grabs for the bowl, making Hermione flinch while doing so. Ignoring the action, the woman gets a generous spoonful and swallows it.
"See? It's alright." She swears, knowing the brilliant witch may suspect poisoning.
Pushing it back, the brunette began to eat small spoonfuls, hand shaking as she does.
Narcissa nearly wretches at her shaking limbs, knowing what it means. It's the crucitas curse slowly effecting her nervous system. It's not common, but she's seen it, it can attack your mind and nerves.
The girl was already showing signs just two days here.
"Good, now the potion. It'll help the aching."
Slowly Hermione uncapped it and chugged it down. The pair of Malfoy's realize know how much pain she must be in to willingly consume something so vile tasting so fast.
After that, she slowly backs away again. Hermione doesn't want to speak. She's too tired to do so, too frightened to even manage words.
'Save your voice Mudblood. There will be plenty of time to scream tomorrow.'
'How dare you speak to me that way? You'll learn to keep your mouth shut Mudblood'
'Next time you do that, someone will die!'
'You'll learn to keep your mouth shut Mudblood. Crucio!'
Slowly feeling herself succumbing to the infectious thoughts about to plague her mind, she begins whispering to herself.
"My name is Hermione Granger..." Draco and Narcissa hear lowly.
His eyes widen in shock seeing the girl he known to be nothing but a Know-It-All, who usually can't keep her mouth shut, stand silent at the sight of him.
"Come now Draco." She tells her son, pulling him to stand, "if you need anymore potions we can help, just keep it between us." She says to the seemingly unresponsive witch.
Draco reaches down to grab at the candle deposited on the floor until something stops him.
"L-leave it, please." She begs from her corner.
His widened eyes look to his Mum's for approval, she simply nods as he places it back down. This time closer to the bars.
After eyeing her few times Draco and Narcissa depart from the dungeons, leaving Hermione alone.
Once she knows it's safe her hands, though a bit numb, feel wildly for the hard covered book. After she locates it, she crawls lamely to the flickering fire.
Cracking open the book, she's finally able to make out the messy scrawl.
Hermione,
I'm so sorry for everything's that's happened. I've hurt you and for that I'll never truly forgive myself. You know I've never been good with words, but I once told you I wouldn't read this book for anything, but I did. For you. I hope you enjoy my rendition of Hogwarts, A History and I hope this can help show you how much you mean to me, how much I miss you, if only a little. I hope one day you can forgive me. Until then I'll be waiting. Always.
Happy Christmas
Yours, Ron.
Her tears begin to soil the page before she knows it. The ink becomes a little runny at the moisture. Sobs build in her throat as she realizes this is all she has now. All she has alone in this place, all she has left of Ron.
The possibility of ever even seeing him again dwindles in her mind.
Between cries, she speaks an entire sentence for the first time in hours, "R-Ron," she chokes to no one, "where ever you are, this means ev-everything."
It's the only thing she's willing to say.
And somewhere far away from where she is, Ron is laying in his bed. Trying to fall asleep after another day without Hermione.
Clutched in between his fingers is a small piece of parchment.
Something to call yours. Happy Christmas Ron.
Love, Hermione.
And like Hermione, that's all Ron has to hold onto now, but he's willing to die for more. Completely ready to lay everything on the line if he could only get her back. To have something more then parchment to hold onto.
But for now, it's all he has.
Love, Hermione.
He falls asleep with his fingers traced over those words.
Hey quick reminder that I'm sorry if this chapter seemed very Draco or maybe even Draco/Hermione (not my intent at all!). I'm here to let you know the story will cover neither. Draco is merely necessary to further the plot for what's to come. It'll make sense soon enough.
Now here's a preview for the next chapter!
"I've never been here before." Harry comments quietly, causing Ron to open his blue eyes and meet his green ones. "I mean..." he starts.
"Neither have I." His friends soon clarifies, "it's never been me who came out, always Dad, Bill, Lupin." He lists, "feels wrong."
Oh! Any guesses where Ron and Harry are headed?
If you want to keep up with me my Instagram is /ottersterrier! (I edit!)
Until next time, please review!
