A/N: Hello, dear readers. Welcome to the complete rewrite of my first ever multi-chapter fic. If you are new, welcome! If you have read the original, I'm sorry! I hope that this version will be a marked improvement. That being said, I make no promises about the update schedule. I'm only about one third of the way done with the rewrite, but I hit a mental wall, and I thought that maybe posting would help me find some motivation. This is more of a prologue, and I hope to have the first true chapter up in the next few days. Now, without further ado, I present A Mudblood and a Traitor.
Chapter One: Mudblood
Draco felt his knees wobble as Hermione let out another piercing scream. His eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the blade in Bellatrix's hand. The light glinted cruelly off its curved edges as it hovered mere centimeters from Hermione's arm. He focused on the dagger with such scrutiny that it was a wonder it didn't melt away on the spot. Even as he drudged up every lesson he'd ever had on wandless magic, Draco could not make it vanish. He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut as Bella carved the next and final letter into delicate flesh. Mudblood. The vile slur ricocheted around in his head, and every time it had passed his lips was pulled forcibly to the front of his mind. Self loathing welled up in him anew.
Hermione's sobbing brought him back to reality, yanking him abruptly from the unpleasant memories into the far less pleasant scene playing out before him. Tears glistened on Hermione's cheeks as she screamed and sobbed that the sword was fake, that she didn't know where the real one was. He couldn't help but admire her bravery and loyalty as she looked into the eyes of a woman who had tortured fully trained aurors into insanity and lied. He wasn't sure how he knew she was lying, but he did. He always had been able to tell. Bella dug the blade deeper into her already bleeding arm, and she screamed again, this time somehow far more terrible than any before. She turned her head away from Bellatrix, and her eyes found his.
"Please," she mouthed, her hair sticking to the tears and blood spatters on her cheeks. "Please." Something in his chest deflated, and the last of his self restraint drained away.
Giving the barest hint of a nod, he called on the desperation and helplessness flooding his veins and willed it to grant him access to his magic. For the first time in his life he was able to cast wandless, nonverbal magic. Ut dolorem facere mea. He chanted the words in his mind as he channeled all of the raw emotion he could. He felt his magic rise to the call and swell within him like a balloon before quickly deflating. As it did, he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Hermione's pain, he knew, would be fading as his own grew. He was feeling her pain. Draco subtly grabbed his forearm with the opposite hand. He took only a few seconds to marvel at his success at completing a spell he had only ever read about wandlessly and nonverbally on his first try. It was a damn good thing or else he'd likely be dead.
Hermione's eyes, he noticed when he finally turned his attention back to her, were wide as she stared at him. He knew that there was no way she could keep up the charade for long, and he didn't think he would be able to either if Bella started again. Trying his best to convey whatever emotions he could through his eyes, he stepped forward. All eyes turned to him, and he felt the crushing weight of their combined gazes as he spoke.
"Perhaps I should fetch the goblin in the cellar. Surely it can tell us if the mudblood is lying." Even as he nearly gagged on the word, he kept a sharp edge of cruelty in his voice and allowed a sneer to curl his lip. Bella laughed and clapped her hands together.
"A wonderful idea, Draco. Go fetch the beast." Loathe as he was to leave Hermione, at least he would be able to react to her pain if he was away. Even as he left the drawing room he was scheming. He needed to get the hostages out, all of them, and he needed to not get himself killed in the process. He heard hushed whispers on the other side of the trap door as he approached. He rolled his eyes, but his disdain was cut short by a scream from upstairs and a blinding bolt of pain on his cheek. At least she could act. He regrouped himself and continued on.
"Please, Griphook, she has to think the sword is fake." Evidently the cellar's inhabitants could hear what was occurring upstairs. He allowed Potter to finish his plea before calling for everyone to line up, as was standard procedure for entering the cellar. He pulled open the hatch and descended the stairs. When he laid eyes on those in the cellar, something twisted painfully in his stomach.
He couldn't help but remember when they were all younger. Potter and Weasley offered a plethora of memories, as did Thomas, memories of petty rivalries and detentions. There shouldn't have been blood on Potter's face and desolation dimming his usually expressive eyes. Weasley should have been burning with anger, a flaming temper to match his hair. Instead his face was unnaturally stoic. It was perhaps the sight of Lovegood's dull eyes that broke him the most. She was innocent. Potter and Weasley at least had skin in the game, but Lovegood was there for no other reason than to punish her father. He glanced at each member of the motley crew of hostages and then up at the ceiling, above which Hermione lay in a puddle of her own blood.
"Master Griphook, my aunt wishes to have a word with you," he drawled. He allowed Griphook to lead the way before turning back to Potter. "Call Dobby," he whispered urgently. "I'll be back with her." Hermione screamed again, and only practice kept his hand from flying to his cheek as Bella added another cut. When he returned to the drawing room, Bella offered him a twisted smile.
"Take the mudblood to the cellar," she commanded. Draco nodded. He quickly muttered a spell to immobilize the witch before levitating her. When he pointed his wand at her, she flinched. A sick feeling pooled in his gut. He smirked outwardly at her fear, ignoring the wave of nausea he felt from her as she rose from the ground. He strode from the room, Hermione floating beside him. When the doors to the drawing room swung shut, he gently set her down, freeing her from his spells. She staggered, and he put a hand on her elbow to steady her. Even once she had righted herself, he kept a hand on her. She had lost a lot of blood and was bound to be dizzy.
"What the hell did you do?" Her breathing was fast and shallow as she fought to stay standing. She cast a suspicious glance at him.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about." He kept his voice cold, impassive. He was so focused on managing his façade and keeping her upright that he was unprepared for the sting that came when she reached up and pulled a lock of her own hair. He hissed in surprise.
"You know what I mean." He only shook his head, casting his eyes around for something to focus on. "Tell me!" she demanded.
"No time," he muttered. "If we survive this, I'll gladly explain later." She glared. He almost smiled at the familiar sight. "Potter will have called for Dobby. Stun and disarm me and get out. Accio wands." He focused on the wands of the prisoners specifically.
"You have to break whatever link you've forged. You can't keep feeling my pain when we're gone."
"The plan, Granger, do you understand?"
"Malfoy," she growled.
"I am not removing the spell until you're healed, and that's final."
"Then heal me," she countered. He smiled bitterly.
"I can't. Bella used a cursed blade. Only potions can draw out the poisonous magic."
"Your spell isn't going to stop me from bleeding out." As though to further her point, she gestured to the blood that was dripping steadily from her arm. He pulled her to a stop and shrugged off the jacket he was wearing. He tugged gently at her wrist until she extended her injured arm to him.
"It may not stop you from bleeding," he ground out, "but it will stop you from hurting." He bit into his own lip and tasted blood as he tied his jacket tightly around her arm, and his own arm experienced a jolt of pain. Neither of them spoke as they continued the last few steps to the cellar, but he could feel her eyes on him the whole way. As he moved to pull the door open, she stopped him.
"What if you stun me?" He could tell she wasn't going to give this up, and it would probably be better for her wounds anyway, so he nodded his agreement and pulled open the door. Only Potter and Weasley were left in the cellar.
"Stun her, Potter," he ordered, offering no explanation. Potter looked from him to Granger and back before complying. Draco reached out and caught her as she slumped over. "I'm going to cancel the linking spell between us. After that disarm me, stun me, and get out." Surprisingly it was Weasley who nodded. He muttered the counter curse and sighed in relief as the pain ebbed from him. "Keep the wand," he added. "It's evidence." He was only conscious long enough to see Potter, Granger, and Weasley's wands soar through the open door. When Potter's wand hit his palm, he wasted no time.
"Expelliarmus. Stupefy." His last thought was of Granger as the world went dark.
