A/N: Thank you to the lovely six readers who reviewed the last chapter (FalseIndigo0o0, Agazeamongstthestars, I'mNotaMundane, Kat, Guest, and Silverfoxxy15)! I'm genuinely so happy that you've been enjoying my story! Whilst you've encouraged me not to go on hiatus, I would expect there to be a bit of a delay with the next few chapters - but I won't give up all together, thanks to you guys.
Anyway, here's the next instalment for you :)
Chapter Thirty-Six: Detainment
3 months later…
Arianwen lay uncomfortably on the rigid stone floor in her cell, her legs extended against the wall in front of her, slightly bent at the knee. Her captors had decided to keep her separate from the other prisoners, caging her instead in a cold, dark, stone cell, so small that she couldn't lie flat in it and had to either sleep sitting up, curled into a ball, or with her back on the floor and legs leaning against the wall. Her captors had stripped her from the Death Eater costume that she had worn on the night of her capture and replaced it with a scratchy linen gown and nothing else. There was an old galvanised bucket in corner of the cell for Arianwen to use as a toilet, though it was only emptied very occasionally. Days upon days of excrement would build up and fumigate the tiny cell with a thick, nauseating stench. That, coupled with Arianwen's persistent morning sickness, was enough to make anyone give up on life but for Arianwen it wasn't even the worst part of her detainment. The cell was positioned somewhere in the basement, Arianwen assumed, for it was entirely windowless. Even when one of her captors came to fetch her, the room beyond the door was only dimly lit with a sparse cluttering of candles, no natural light to be seen anywhere.
The darkness was unbearable. It was tangible; dense, and swarming, pressing every breath, every encouraging thought out of her – crushing her soul.
After her initial capture, she had woken alone in the cell and been left there for what felt like weeks without any food, water, or blankets. Realistically, it had probably been only a few days before she'd been dragged out by a jeering Rookwood and shoved into the grand dining room, where the Black sisters and their husbands had been eating their breakfast wordlessly. She had gotten back to her feet clumsily and Bellatrix had cackled as her entire body physically trembled, mistaking it for fear rather than physical weakness due to a lack of any nourishment. Her eyes had streamed endlessly, encouraging Bellatrix's glee even further, though really she had just been so blinded by the daylight streaming through the expansive windows that her eyes were ill-prepared to adjust. But it wasn't just Bellatrix that took pleasure in Arianwen's sickly appearance, for none other than Dafydd Gwydion had presented himself to mock her too. She hadn't needed her vision to recognise him, she could identify him just by the pattern of his footsteps and the overpowering scent of his cologne.
"Well, well," he had said, "how the mighty have fallen." Then, just for effect, he'd given her a swift kick behind the knees, sending her toppling painfully to the ground. "What's the matter, child, aren't you going to fight back?" He hissed in her ear. But she had done nothing, biding her time instead, waiting for an opportune moment to attack. "You know," he drawled on, "I really would have thought that you would've protected your son a little better." Arianwen's heart had stopped dead in that moment. "Such a sweet young thing, pity really…" he tailed off slowly, examining his long pointed nails as though they of great interest to him.
"What have you done?" Arianwen had breathed, scrambling indelicately to her feet. "What have you done to him?" She demanded again, her voice suddenly much stronger. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BOY?" she roared, launching herself on him, willing his heart to explode inside his chest, to crumble to ash and take his soul with it. And – just as Nimue had taught her – her rage began to boil through her bloodstream, enticing her most inner magic to take over. Dafydd looked at her in horror, hands clutching his throat, as he found himself suddenly unable to breathe. He rasped and spluttered for air, his head and neck turning from red to a violent purple, the lack of oxygen causing his body to crumple to the ground just as Arianwen's had moments earlier. She had felt herself grow stronger as she drained the very life from her uncle's body, until-
"Crucio!" A voice had shouted, causing an agonising scream to burst from Arianwen's mouth as a hundred invisible knives began tearing at her skin. It was over quickly, thankfully, but it had been enough to distract Arianwen from her assault on her uncle. He was hunched over, breathing deeply as he wiped some vomit away from his mouth. With the poise of a thoroughbred male, he brought himself back upright and doubled down on Arianwen. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he dragged her over to where he had vomited and shoved her face into it. "EAT IT!" He bellowed. "EAT IT YOU DISGUSTING WHORE!"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Another voice shouted, a familiar voice. "How dare you assault a pureblood witch in my home!"
"She is a blood traitor!" Dafydd spat. "How dare you defend her?"
"She is not a blood traitor until the Dark Lord says she is. You will not lay another finger on her without his approval, do you understand me?"
"Don't you dare speak to me like that, you-" Apparently Dafydd had made some move to assault Arianwen's defender, for she heard the sickening crunch of a bone breaking as another man punched Dafydd and demanded that he leave his home.
There was a long silence as the door slammed behind Dafydd, and the remaining people in the room stood in shock. "Take her back to her cell, Rookwood." Bellatrix commanded suddenly. Arianwen felt a rough hand yank at her upper arm until she had been brought to a standing position.
"Wait," the strained voice of Arianwen's defender said. Arianwen's sage green eyes flicked instantly to the source of the voice and rested upon Narcissa Malfoy, who was now conjuring blankets from the tip of her wand.
"Cissa, what-" Bellatrix started.
"We have to keep her alive," Narcissa snapped, "at least long enough for the Dark Lord to interrogate her." That silenced the small crowd in the room.
Narcissa approached Arianwen quickly, an unreadable expression on her face, and draped the blankets around her shoulders one-by-one. "Stay strong." She whispered, almost inaudibly, into Arianwen's ear. And then she was gone and Arianwen was being shoved back into her cell, albeit somewhat warmer than before. Several minutes later, the door to her cell had opened again, and a tray of food and water slid in sloppily, before the door slammed shut once more. She took the food gratefully, not leaving a single crumb uneaten or drop undrunk. Once it had all gone, Arianwen slid down the wall, bringing her knees to her chest comfortingly and silently thanking Narcissa for forcing them to feed her – for she knew it was her doing. Despite the food however, she could feel herself growing weaker by the day, she drew power from her homeland so the longer she was away from Wales, the less powerful she became. She knew she would have to concentrate all of her power into keeping her baby safe, though she had no idea how long she'd be able to keep it up for. Dreams of rescue plagued her thoughts that night.
The sound of fast approaching footsteps pulled Arianwen away from her memories. A few seconds later, the door to her cell was flung open, and Arianwen was being dragged out roughly, the silhouette of the guard only just discernible by the soft flicker of candlelight.
"Where are you taking me?" Arianwen rasped, not used to speaking aloud.
"The Dark Lord has summoned you," the figure replied gruffly. She didn't recognise his voice but she did recognise where she was being taken. Down the long corridor and up the stone steps to ground level, through the moonlit courtyard and back into the manor through the rear parlour doors. As she suspected, they approached the stairs to the east wing and ascended them. They moved through two more winding corridors until they came to a halt in front of the doors to what Arianwen knew to be the old library, which had been converted into an expansive dining room but still retained the mahogany panelled walls of its former self.
She noticed her escort's hands shake as he turned one of the brass knobs in the shape of a serpent's head, and rolled her eyes. Whoever he was, he was either a coward or giddily excited to be in the present of his master. Probably both, Arianwen pondered.
She barely even noticed when he yanked her arm and led her to the head of a long dining table, at least thirty masked figures sitting around it, and it's head – Voldemort.
Draco felt like his entire world had frozen in time.
Standing at the head of the table was Arianwen, his Arianwen in his house. She looked awful. Her hair hung limply down her back, weighed down with months of grease and dirt; the rag of a gown they'd put her in was marked with stains of mud, ash, and…blood. He lurched forward, bile rising suddenly through his throat and into his mouth. Next to him, his father kicked his foot, reminding him to compose himself.
"Something the matter Draco?" The Dark Lord asked coolly, surveying him with a knowing smirk.
After coughing a few times to try to cover up his sudden bodily reaction, he replied, "Not at all, my Lord, please excuse me." and coughed once more for effect.
"You recognise our prisoner I imagine?" The Dark Lord pressed on, seeing through Draco's lie.
Draco couldn't bring himself to look at her, he could only imagine what she must be thinking right now, how she must hate him for allowing her to be imprisoned and tortured in his own home. "No, my Lord?" He responded, his voice lifting just slightly at the end to signify a question.
The cold snake-like eyes of Voldemort narrowed but instead of questioning him further, he pointed his wand at Arianwen. "Scourgify!" A jet of freezing cold, soapy water, soaked Arianwen from head to toe and she spluttered and coughed as it filled her mouth and slid down her throat. When the spell had subsided, a pool of dirty water had gathered at her feet and her gown had become translucent, revealing the curves of her body beneath.
"And now?" He asked again, gesturing to Arianwen's now clean face. Draco shook his head.
"Well then," the Dark Lord said, raising his wand, "perhaps you ought to take a better look." Suddenly Arianwen was catapulted into the air and flew to the centre of the table, where Draco sat. With another flick of his wand, she was released from the spell and plummeted onto the table with an almighty crash! "Recognise our little friend now?"
Draco was forced to look down at her but her eyes were squeezed shut, her breathing coming out in odd wheezes. "Mr Knot tells me that the two of you used to date?" the Dark Lord mocked.
"My Lord," Lucius cut in urgently, "my son abandoned the girl as soon as he realised she was a blood traitor-"
"Did I ask you to speak?" Their master hissed dangerously. Promptly, Lucius shut up. "Now Draco, why don't you tell us about our esteemed guest?"
"There isn't much I can tell you my Lord, our encounters didn't leave a lot of room for talking, and as my Father has said, I dropped her as soon as I became aware of her allegiances." Many Death Eaters around the table laughed detestably at this, but not loudly enough for him to miss Arianwen mutter, "Prick", under her breath.
"I see, well then, as you clearly do not care for the girl, perhaps we can share her out. Not all of our friends here can show the same restraint as you, it seems." Draco looked around in horror to see many of the men eyeing Arianwen lustfully, their eyes roamed freely over her flesh, many hovering over her now erect nipples. He suffered another kick from his Father and realised that he'd been clutching the arms of the chair so hard that his nails had dug into the wood beneath, causing splinters to draw blood. With another flick of his wand, Voldemort sent Arianwen soaring backwards until she hit the wall at the far end of the room. She slid down it, moaning slightly in pain, but got to her feet again nevertheless.
"What do you want from me?" She gasped, bent over and clutching her stomach, still winded from colliding with the wall, he assumed.
"What I want," Voldemort said coolly, "is to know how you have managed to kill so many of my followers without so much as lifting your wand."
Much to Draco's dismay, Arianwen straightened up, one hand still on her stomach, and grinned manically. "Talent." was all she said.
"You arrogant child!" A man roared, slamming his fist down upon the table. Every head swivelled to the right to see the source of the noise, for it had not been their master's voice but-
"Uncle," Arianwen announced hungrily, stalking towards him. "How I have longed to see you again."
"You will answer the Dark Lord, you insolent little-"
"Enough." Voldemort said lazily, freezing Arianwen in position with his wand. "Do you believe me incapable of handling this child, Gwydion?"
"N-n-no, my Lord, no of course not but-"
"Then sit down." He said evenly. Dafydd did what he was told and lowered himself back into his chair.
"Now, Greyback, as you seem so eager to get a taste of the girl, I will permit you to go first." Draco's gaze snapped to Fenrir Greyback, who was sitting further down the table, nearer Arianwen, and on the opposite side to him. He was practically bouncing in his chair, his breath heavy and his eyes fixed on Arianwen. "You have served me well of late, Greyback, and I am a fair master – I give rewards where rewards are due. I certainly would not want to prevent you from... feeding." The final word was said with such ominous malice that Draco felt he might hurl once again.
"Thank you, master." Greybacks scratchy voice responded; and then, more to himself, "you gift me with a mother's milk, you are most gracious!"
"You will soon learn, Duchess, that I am not a patient man. Perhaps you will feel more inclined to cooperate after Greyback has had a little fun."
Her eyes widened, genuinely fearful, as Greyback stood from his chair and grabbed her. In the same instant, Voldemort released the spell that had been holding her still, and Greyback grabbed her by the throat, forcing her down on the table. She struggled viciously, but his weight was far greater than hers, and he was able to pin her down long enough to rip her gown from the neck to the naval.
"No!" She shouted. "No! Get off me!" But her shouts were useless. The werewolf clawed hungrily at her skin and grasped one of her breasts; jagged, yellow teeth bit down on it and he drank greedily, both milk and blood trickling down her side.
Draco couldn't bear it for one second longer - he had to intervene now. He made to stand up but was halted by the voice of his father, "Don't, Draco, don't." Lucius' voice was barely discernible, especially with Arianwen's screams and cries filling the room. "It'll be the death of us all," he urged.
Painfully, Draco remained seated – his father was right. If he defended Arianwen now he would get them both killed, and his parents too. At least if he remained silent, just for a little longer, they might all still survive.
The meeting was over. Draco followed his father to his parents' bedroom, the one safe space the Malfoy's had left in their home. As soon as they entered, Narcissa was on her feet and flinging her arms around Draco's neck. It was the first time they'd seen each other in thirteen weeks but even so, Draco did not embrace her back.
"Draco?" She pulled away, concern etched in the lines in her face. "What's wrong?"
"Did you know?" He asked in a low voice, closing the bedroom door behind him. Narcissa didn't need him to specify any further, she knew who he was talking about. Regretfully, she bowed her head in affirmation. "Then why the FUCK is she still here? Why the fuck haven't you done something?"
"Don't you dare speak to your mother like that!" Lucius roared; stepping quickly between his wife and his son, his eyes alight with rage. This particular expression would normally send Draco running for the hills, but not today. He squared up to his father and quickly realised that he was bigger, stronger, and ready for a fight. He grabbed his father's robes by the chest and rammed him into the nearest surface: one of the posts of their bed. "Don't lecture me! Do not ever lecture me! I would never have asked you to watch Mother- t-t-to watch her be tortured in front of you," his voice was cracking and his hold on his father quickly slackened. He stumbled back, his hands sliding through his hair, then covering his face.
"Draco!" Narcissa called softly, alarmed. "Draco come here." She enveloped him in a tight hug, which this time he returned.
"I have to do something, I can't leave her here!" He cried into her shoulder.
"Okay," Narcissa soothed, "it's okay. We'll help you." Lucius opened his mouth to disagree but on receipt of one of Narcissa's particularly nasty glares, closed it again.
"I've got portkeys and I stole a wand from one of the mudbloods in Bulgaria…" Draco muttered to himself, pacing across the room again. "But they'll be expecting me back any minute, and the Dark Lord would suspect you two in an instant. ARGH!"
"Calm down, son." This time it was Lucius offering words of comfort for Narcissa seemed far away in thought.
"I think-" she began but tailed off again. Then, all of a sudden, her mouth broke into a triumphant grin. "I've got something that can help."
Arianwen groaned and tried to shift into a more comfortable spot. Her head was spinning, the wounds Greyback had inflicted on her had caused her to lose a lot of blood and she was struggling to see straight. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her chest.
Her eyes grew heavy and she was about to succumb to the temptations of sleep when the door to her cell opened for the second time that day. A flash of white blonde hair crossed her vision, detectable even in the blackness of her cell. "Draco?" She asked, her voice weak.
"No." the figure replied uncomfortably, scooping her up in his arms and fumbling for something in his pocket. She didn't hear him though for she'd already fallen unconscious in his arms, Draco's face spinning at the forefront of her mind.
Lucius walked through the air, Arianwen in his arms, looking around him to try and discern their location. It wasn't an easy task however, as all he could see were fields for miles in every direction. Not far from where he landed was an alder tree and he supposed this was the tree Draco had been talking about when they'd hatched their plan back at the Manor.
Narcissa had in her possession a very old time turner, passed down to her from generations of Black's before her. She'd hidden it in a false bottom of one of their wardrobe's many years prior but managed to dig it out and hand it to Draco. It was then that the plan had really taken shape. Draco had put the time turner around his father's neck and instructed him to go back a mere ten minutes, the window between Arianwen being taken back to her cell and the Death Eaters finishing their meeting. If they could just get her out within this window then they couldn't be implicated for it, for they would have been in everyone's sight the entire time. There was a chance that the blame could fall onto Narcissa, but it was unlikely – the Dark Lord thought her to be weak, he wouldn't think she was capable of carrying off such a balshy crime. Draco used the stolen wand to turn Lucius' pocket watch and wedding ring into portkeys: the watch for the journey to Wales and the ring to get him back to the Manor. It was the safest way to do it, for then Lucius just had to get to Arianwen's cell without being seen and simply wait for the portkey to take them away. Thankfully, it had been surprisingly easy for Lucius to get out of the house and over to the underground chamber where they'd been keeping Arianwen; everyone was still in the meeting, so he simply had to ensure that he didn't run into any strays.
Lucius looked down at the young woman in his arms. Her hair was still wet and the blanket she'd wrapped herself in had become heavy in the weight of her blood. Despite this however, he was sure that the colour of her skin was changing, moving from a sickly grey to a more healthy peach. He didn't have time to ponder this however, for a loud CRACK! stole his attention away.
"Here!" Draco shouted as soon as he spotted them. "Give her to me!" He commanded impatiently.
Lucius complied and transferred the blonde into his arms. "Draco, this plan is ludicrous, why don't you just leave her here-"
"I am NOT leaving her." Draco snarled, clutching Arianwen more tightly to his chest. The movement caused her to stir slightly, though she didn't wake. "Get the portkey," he commanded again, and waited tensely while his father slid his enchanted wedding ring back onto his finger.
"What's the time now?" Draco asked urgently.
Lucius consulted the time turner still hanging from his neck. "It's eleven twenty-nine."
"Then you're due to leave in one minute!" Draco warned. "Give me the time turner, I'll hide it." Once again, Lucius obeyed his son and placed the delicate chain around his neck. Draco shifted Arianwen so that he was holding her with just one arm and pulled the stolen wand he'd used to apparate out of his pocket. He raised it steadily and pointed it at his father's head.
"Ready?" Draco asked. Lucius nodded, then dropped his gaze to his pocket watch.
"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five-" Lucius counted down, "four, three, two-"
"Oblivate!" Draco cried, watching a look of emptiness flick over Lucius' face, just as it had when he'd cast the spell on his mother, before the portkey dragged him back to the manor and it was just him and Arianwen left. He shifted her back across his chest so that he could hold her in both arms and began running in the direction of her house.
He'd only been running for five minutes when he realised that her house was much farther away from the alder tree than he'd realised. He guessed that he only had about five more minutes before someone at the Manor discovered that Arianwen was no longer there and Voldemort summoned them all back for questioning. But just as he'd started to panic, an idea popped into his mind.
"Ri!" He shook her in his arms, trying to wake her. "Arianwen please, wake up!" She shifted, a low groan escaping her lips. "Arianwen? Arianwen!"
"What?" She mumbled, her eyes still closed.
"I need you to call your elf!"
"Mmm?" Draco's panic was reaching an all-time high. What the hell is the name of that bloody elf?
"Betsy!" He remembered with a shout. "Betsy! Arianwen, call Betsy!"
The blonde groaned again but obeyed him, a weak "Betsy!" leaving her lips. The elf appeared in an instant, her eyes bulging out of their sockets when she saw the scene before her.
"Miss Duchess!" The elf squeaked. "She is back!"
"Betsy, I need you to take us to the house." Draco said hurriedly. The elf complied instantly, and seconds later they were running through the house: Draco trying to find the nearest room that he could place her in some comfort, and Betsy trying to find her misstress' potions kit. Draco flung open the door to the family sitting room, where the sofas where much more plush and comforting than in the formal sitting room. He placed Arianwen down carefully on the nearest sofa and swapped the blanket she was wearing for a clean one at the end of the sofa. He threw flames into the fireplace and dried her hair with the stolen wand. Betsy reappeared moments later, thrusting the potions kit into Draco's hands as he commanded.
"Get a bowl of warm water and a cloth," he ordered while rifling through the potions bag. Finally, he found the blood-replenishing potion and poured it into Arianwen's mouth, massaging her throat until she swallowed. He didn't even notice that Betsy had returned with the cloth and water he asked for until he nearly kicked it over but made quick work of cleaning up the wounds on her chest, expecting to need to apply dittany to help her heal. To his surprise however, the wounds were healing themselves, the skin fusing back together before his eyes.
"This land gives her strength," Betsy offered wisely, noticing the confusion in his eyes.
Draco nodded and let out a massive breath when he saw her eyes begin to open. Her beautiful green eyes watched him for a few moments before she began to register who he was. "Where am I?" she asked, and Draco's stomach lurched to realised how scared she looked, how scared she was of him.
"You are at home Miss Duchess!" Betsy squeaked. Arianwen looked at her with the same confusion she'd regarded Draco with, although as soon as it dawned on her that she was looking at her own elf, she croaked, "Betsy, where's my boy?"
"I will fetch the young master for you! He is with Miss Brianne." Betsy disapparated instantly, leaving Draco and Arianwen alone for just a split second before returning with Brianne, the baby crying in her arms.
"Arianwen! Oh my god, thank Merlin you're safe!" Brianne gushed.
"Llewyn!" Arianwen exclaimed, her eyes darting to him. She held her arms up expectantly and Brianne rushed over, passing the child over delicately. "Shh," Arianwen soothed, "it's okay, I'm here now." However, the small blonde boy didn't soothe easily and continued to cry, his little face bright red and wet with tears. He kept ducking his head and knocking Arianwen's chest with it, frustrated when she only bounced him in her lap in response.
"He wants feeding, love." Brianne said gently.
With an unholy wrenching in his gut, Draco watched Arianwen's face contort, tears falling thick and fast. "I-I-I c-can't," she stuttered. Without thinking, he sprang forward, wanting to do anything to stop her reliving the events of the evening. He knelt down in front of her and wiped her tears with the back of his fingers. "It's alright," he said softly, his stomach flipping as she looked at him with those big green eyes, "you're safe now. He's your baby, he just wants this comfort from you, you don't need to be scared. You can do it."
"Okay," she agreed with a sniff and allowed Draco to carefully push aside the horrible gown, still ripped down the middle. Little Llewyn didn't need any more encouragement than that, he latched on, causing Arianwen to inhale sharply.
"You okay?" Draco asked, nervous.
"Yeah." She breathed out deeply, closing her eyes briefly as she readjusted to the sensation.
"There we are, well done." He brushed her hair behind her ear as she bent down to watch their son, stroking her jaw a few times with his thumb.
"Draco," she started quietly, resting her forehead briefly against his chin. Relevtuantly, she opened her eyes again and watched him closely before speaking again, "I'm pregnant."
Silence. Everyone held their breath, waiting for some sort of reaction from him. A full minute passed before he finally blinked, his eyes widening as the weight of her words crashed down upon him. Suddenly, he was stumbling backwards, scrabbling to get to his feet. "Pregnant? And-and - mine?" he choked out.
Her nod sent his hand flying through his hair, then over his mouth, then massaging his temples. "You've got to get rid of it," he said next, hand still covering his eyes as he massaged his temples eratically.
"What the fuck?" Brianne had found her voice – and she was fuming. "You do NOT tell a pregnant woman to get rid of her fucking unborn child!" She roared, causing Llewyn to start crying again.
"I have every right to tell her to get rid of it seeing as it's mine!" Draco growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.
"Do you really think any of us are buying this bullshit front your putting up?" Brianne yelled back, pointing an accusatory and shaking finger at him.
"I don't give a fuck if you buy it or not you little-"
"Why are you here then?" Brianne shouted over him. "Why did you even bother to bring her home if you really loathe her so much?!"
"Because my mother begged me to get her out." Draco snapped, his voice remaining low in direct contrast to the brunette. "Don't you think I would've brought her home sooner if I actually gave a fuck if she lives or dies?"
"Then what the hell were you just doing? You were literally just fucking comforting her two seconds ago!"
Thankfully, Draco was spared having to come up with a plausible excuse for his lapse in control by the broken voice of Arianwen from the sofa. "Just get out, Draco! Please just get out of my life!" She cried, tears leaking from her eyes again.
For a split second, Draco didn't move, his feet rooting him to the spot as he fought an internal battle over whether to give up and admit everything. A cold wand to his throat brought him back to reality – he could not tell her. The only way he could protect her was by cutting any association to her, that much had been proven in the Manor tonight.
"You heard her, Malfoy. Get. Out."
He didn't fight it. He let Brianne force him out of the house at wand-point, unable to bring himself to take so much of a glance in Arianwen's direction – it would be the end of him.
A/N: I can't tell you how wonderful it was to hear from you last week, I would really really love to hear your thoughts again this time!