She waits a moment, listening carefully to make sure they are alone again in the cell. Then, she slowly slides the wand from inside her jeans and holds it in front of her.

"Lumos," she whispers and a ball of light appears. She holds the wand high so the light can travel farther. Draco's eyes are huge and his mouth it gaping. Tears come to her eyes, but this time, of joy. "Tell me about the manor layout," she laughs. "I'm going to get us out!"

...

Chapter Seven

For the longest time, Draco simply gapes at the wand in Hermione's hand. Her smile spreads wider, feeling more and more amazing the longer Draco stares in disbelief.

Finally, he's able to speak. "Hermione, you foolish witch."

Her grin falters a little. "What? Why?"

"How long do you think before they notice a wand is missing? It might take a while for them to figure it out, and you'll have time before they realize who took it, but when they do you'll regret it."

She frowns at him, though he looks at her, not with anger, but with worry. "I was just trying to help," she said. "I was pretty proud of myself."

He sighs. "I know. I'm still trying to decide if you were being brave or stupid."

She smiles a little.

"Who's is it?"

"Fenrir Greyback's."

Again, his eyes widen and flash. "How did you manage that?"

"They had me serving dinner. His wand was just there, so I took it."

"Greyback was at dinner?" he asks

She nods.

"Who else was there?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange, Scabior, a Death Eater I don't know, and..." she hesitates, wondering if it is a good idea to tell him his father was there.

"And?" he prompts.

"And your father."

Besides the slight change of his eyes, he looks un-phased. "He's alive?"

She nods. "He had a cut on his face..."

"Was my mother there?"

"No."

He's quiet and refuses to look at her. She can't tell if he's worried or relieved. The light from the wand isn't spectacular and she's afraid to make it any brighter in case someone comes down.

"Come here," he says.

She tugs on the chain. "How-"

"Use the wand."

She points the wand at the cuff and whispers, "Alohamora." The cuff pops off. She picks up the jug of water and plate of food the Elf brought her and scrambles over to Draco.

Setting down the food, she points the wand at his chain and it comes off easily. His wrist is red and swollen, leading all the way down to the infected cuts on his arm where Blood Traitor is etched.

Before she knows it, she's in his arms and crying into his shoulder and clutching his dirty shirt and breathing him in. And he's got his arms around her back, pulling her flush against him until neither of them can breathe, but neither of them care as long as they're in each other's arms for the first time in what feels like forever.

Hermione pulls out of the hug first and grips his face between her palms, looking at him like she's never seen anything so wonderful before. He pushes forward and their lips meet hard, bruising and swelling. She wraps her arms around his head and grabs his hair in fistfuls as he holds her chin and moves his thumb over her cheek.

When she feels like she can't go any longer without breathing, Draco pulls away but pushes her forehead to his. She breathes deeply. He smells like sweat and mildew, but most importantly, he still smells like Draco and she can't get enough.

"Have you eaten?" she pants.

"Have you?"

"Here." She picks up the plate of food and turns herself around so she's leaning with her back against his chest, her ear against his heartbeat.

"Thanks," he whispers, picking up a roll.

"Take some water," she tells him, moving the over the jug. "I already had a drink earlier."

He picks it up and drinks deeply. "When did you get a drink?" he gasps when he takes a break.

"In the kitchen. Collin gave me one. Draco!" she exclaims like she's just remembered. "Collin Creevey's here! He's been here for months. He told me there were others too. A Hogwarts student, two Americans, a German, some Half-Bloods. He says they're keeping them in another dungeon, or, what sounds like another dungeon. We can't leave them. It's made me rethink my whole plan, but now that we've got this," she holds up the wand, "I think I can figure it out easy enough. I just need you to tell me about the layout of the manor. Where is the other dungeon? Where is apparition point? Do you know if anyone patrols at night?"

"Hermione," he says and she can hear the regret in his voice. "I don't think we can take them all."

She frowns and leans away from him so she can look at his face. "Yes we can," she tells him carefully. "And we will."

"That's a lot of people to sneak out."

"I don't care!" she almost yells. "I'm getting them out when we leave. All of them."

Air whooshes out between his lips. "The other dungeon is under the basement where Potter, Weasley, and that lot were held."

At the mention of Harry and Ron she tenses up and a fresh round of tears well in her eyes as she's reminded how they left her. They had no choice, she tells herself. She takes a hold of Draco's shirt and lays her head back against his chest. He's incredibly warm compared to the cold air. Her stomach rolls in hunger and she picks up a piece of meat from the plate.

"Where is apparition point?" she asks him quietly. "Collin said it was beyond the hedges."

"He's right. As soon as you make it through those bushes you can disapparate."

"Okay." She thinks for a minute. "Tell me about the manor at night."

He clears his throat and takes another drink of water. "After dinner, the House Elves, and sometimes Death Eaters, put the prisoners back into the dungeons. When the sun goes down, the House Elves come out and do things the prisoners weren't forced to do that day like sweeping the floor, dusting the shelves, things like that. They are what watches for people wandering around the house. Mostly they're unpredictable, but if you're really careful, I think you can sneak around them.

"The real problem is finding a way out of the house. All the doors and windows are locked with magic and you need a special key to get in or out. Most of the Death Eaters have a key that lets them apparate in and out of the manor, but I'm guessing it's near impossible to get one of those."

"Okay," she says, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of his arms around her again. "I'm going to talk to Collin tomorrow if I see him and I'll try to get a key or think of a better way. If that works we'll leave two nights from now."

Draco breathes deeply and leans his head against the wall. He closes his eyes and squeezes her closer as he feels her starting to drift off to sleep.

Hermione wakes with a start. She's still in Draco's arms and the wand is clutched firmly in her hand, still glowing. The noise of the dungeon door rattling open is what wakes her. She scrambles out of Draco's arms as he wakes too. Grabbing the empty jug and plate, she scurries back to her side of the cell and refastens the cuff around her wrist. Then she looks for a place to put the wand. There's nowhere to put it and someone is coming down the steps.

"Nox," she whispers and shoves it under her shirt just as a new light enters the dungeon, carried in a lantern by Tinky and Moule.

Moule hands Tinky the light and he shuffles on his large feet to Hermione with a set of ankle cuffs in his hands. Hermione sighs when she sees them, grimacing as he clasps them around her bruised ankles.

"Are these really necessary," she asks the Elf. "I can't go anywhere anyway. There are Death Eaters all over. Where am I going to run?"

Moule glares at her like she's greatly offended him. "Mistress says prisoners must wear them. Mistress says especially Harry Potter's Mudblood must be chained."

"Your mistress is an idiot, Moule," Hermione snaps back without really realizing what she's saying. She softens her tone slightly in hopes she can convince the Elf. "Your mistress is an evil woman who only wants to hurt people."

Moule looks at her with wide eyes. His grey skin goes pale and then slightly red with anger.

"Granger," Draco warns her. "Stop talking."

She ignores him, looking deeply at the Elf. "Has she told you why we're here? Has she told why she's keeping us locked down in this place?"

"You is a Mudblood!" Moule screeches, wringing his ears in fury. "Yous belong here!"

"Hermione, you're making a mistake. Stop talking to him." Draco is leaning forward, pulling on the cuff around his wrist. His eyes are full of panic.

"HE'S NOT A MUDBLOOD!" she yells, throwing her finger at Draco across the room. "HE'S HER OWN NEPHEW! She's keeping her own family down here!"

Tinky moans, clutching the tips of her ears and folding them in half to block out the shouting. Moule looks at her with giant eyes, his tiny fists are clenched at his side. "He is a Blood Traitor," he tells Hermione sternly. "Mistress say he is good as Mudblood."

Hermione snaps her mouth closed, shaking her head slowly. She pinches her lips between her teeth, fighting back a wave of tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She doesn't know what to do. She's as angry as a hornet and completely powerless to do anything about it.

After a minute she feels Moule undo the cuff around her wrist and jerks away from him as soon as her arm is free. Moule forces her to her feet, he's surprisingly strong despite his small and scrawny stature. Hermione shuffles to the door, looking back at Draco who is worriedly watching her go.

She frowns. "Why don't they want you?" she asks him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Moule cuts him off, shrieking, "Mistress say no talking!"

She walks quickly to avoid being pushed by the Elf. The chain rattles nosily on the ground and chafes angrily at her ankles, making her wince, but she ignores it. The wand burns against her flesh and she regrets bringing it, afraid she'll use it at the wrong time or it will fall form her shirt in front of the Elves or Death Eaters. Her hand itches for it as Moule pushes on the back of her shirt. She wrings her fingers to avoid using it. She can't waist this when it is so close.

"Where are you taking me to slave away now?" Hermione spits at him.

He refuses to answer her.

The door at the top of the steps grinds open and Hermione is forced to squint at the new light. Her eyes water and skull pounds like a hammer, intensifying a headache she didn't know she had until now.

There is a harsh tug on her arm. "Finally," says a gruff voice. "What the hell took so long?" When her eyes finally adjust she can she it's the Death Eater from yesterday waiting for them in the hall.

Moule steps back and bows his head reverently to the Death Eater. "They is fighting with Moule," he says.

His grip tightens on Hermione's arm and he shoves her forward a little, making her stumble and her feet slap the ground. "Go tell Lestrange. Have her figure it out. We can't have this."

"Yes, sir," Moule squeaks, scurrying away.

Hermione pulls on her arm that has the Death Eather's fingers digging into it uncomfortably.

"Stop it!" he tells her sternly, taking her down the hall. She doesn't listen, tired of being treated this way. "You really want to fucking do this?" he asks, coming close to her face. "You've caused enough trouble for yourself already."

Again, the wand itches and her fingers tingle. Her heart picks up, pumping adrenalin to her muscles. "What are you going to do?" she bites back at him. His eyes narrow and flash. "Are you going to starve me? Beat me? Torture me? You've already done it!" She's practically yelling.

He stops suddenly and his hand connects sharply with her face. She hisses and tears prick her eyes as she brings a hand to her burning cheek. It stings, but Bellatrix slaps sharper.

"Wash the windows," he says, thrusting a rag into her hand. "Or you'll find out what starving is really like."

She gives him a glare and then turns to the door on her left made up of glass and white wooden panels dividing it into squares. When she starts working she hears him leave. She scowls with tears on her cheeks at the glass and then to the room behind it where a beautiful black piano is on a white rug. She thinks about how beautiful this place could seem if she didn't know the horrors that lurked just under its floorboards and behind closed doors.

Her eyes refocus on the glass and she starts. The pale form of a girl stares back at her. Her eyes are like dark holes, her cheeks shallow and sunken, there is a bruise on her left cheek, and her hair is wild and matted. She blinks and a tear leaks out and rolls down her cheek. She doesn't even recognize herself. How long has she been here? She thinks back to when she first arrived. It's all a blur filled with darkness and fuzzy pictures of faces and she doesn't know how long she's been here. It feels like whole years and only hours at the same time.

Something sparks inside her. She needs to get out. Needs to get out. It burns her from the inside out.

She stands up and opens the glass door, walking to the piano. It's so black and so shiny it looks white at times. The keys glint and the stings hum from the slight vibrations her footsteps make. She sits on the matching bench and taps middle C. The chord rings around the room. It's been forever since she's played. The lessons from her youth come to her mind like words on fading paper.

Standing up, she lifts up the bench to find books of music. Some are fancy, intelligent pieces, but most are children's books for learning.

She folds her lips in and takes out one of the children's books. Flipping to the first page, there is a stamp that says This book belongs to:, and in neat, diligent handwriting next to it is Draco Lucius Malfoy. She smiles, imagining Draco sitting on the bench. Little Draco, before everything, with his tiny fingers on the keys and his big silver eyes looking up at the same music in her hand on the stand. She wonders if his mother taught him or if they brought in a tutor. Or maybe, she thinks, he taught himself.

The image of Draco morphs into a young Hermione Granger at a brown church piano in the basement of her local church. She swallows hard, remembering herself working hard to pass each book. Though she was good, she was never great and it beat her up from the inside out to know that she couldn't be as good as she wanted at something. It took her parents pulling her from the lessons for her to realize it was doing more harm than good for her to spend every waking moment stressing over it.

She shakes her head and puts the lesson book back in the bench with the rest.

She goes back to the door, kneeling on the inside and wiping the rag across the panels.

Not long after Hermione leaves, Draco hears the door open and someone coming down the steps. His expression screws up when he can see the Death Eater coming down the stairs. It's the one called Lanius. Draco recognizes him from around the manor and when he took Hermione up yesterday. He's a muscular man, but not taller than Draco. He makes up for his height with being conceded and arrogant to anyone weaker than him. Draco knows Lanius's role for the Dark Lord is small. The man even cowers before Draco's aunt. But when he's pushing around people literally chained to the wall his ego goes sky-high.

It was in the clouds now as he walks to Draco and tapped the cuff around his wrist with his wand.

Draco pulls his arm away, massaging the ring of red under his hand. "What are you doing?" he asks him.

"Get up," he says.

Draco scrambles to his feet, staring quizzically at the Death Eater. "What are you doing?" he asks again, harsher this time.

"We're going on a little field trip," he says, squeezing Draco's arm and pulling him out of the cell.

Draco's knees ache and his toes tingle. He hasn't been able to stand in so long that it's weird to him to walk and almost painful.

"I want to talk to my aunt," Draco says, keeping his voice firm despite the throbbing in his temple.

"Well, she doesn't even want to look at you. So tough shit."

Draco tries to yank his arm out of Lanius's grip, but he's weak and his limbs feel like jelly. He's not even sure that's really his arm. It hurts, but the pain is distant, like it's across the room instead of right in front of him.

"Where are we going?" he yells, struggling, though he's no match in the state he's in.

Lanius doesn't answer him, continuing to pull him from the cell no matter how wildly Draco fights.

"This is my house, damn it!" Draco yells. "Tell me where you're taking me! Let me talk to my aunt! Or my parents! Where are they?!"

Lanius stops abruptly and comes close to Draco's face. "This isn't your house any more." His words are like ice in the air. "She isn't your aunt. They aren't your parents. You've been disowned, little Blood Traitor. You're nothing but dirt."

Draco swallows thickly. His view of the Death Eater blurs as his eyes fill with tears. His lip trembles, refusing to let them fall. Before he knows what he's doing, his fist is swinging in the air and his knuckles crack against Lanius's skull.

The Death Eater lets go of him to nurse his bruised head. "Fuck!" he hisses, touching the forming welt.

Draco runs. His shoes pound the cement. He can see the light from the door like daylight at the end of a tunnel.

He almost makes it too.

A curse rips through his back, knocking him to the floor and burning through him. He cries out and the tears fall without him even knowing.

Lanius steps toward him, all big and storming with rage. His wand his held over his head, pointing at the crumpled boy beneath him.

"DO NOT EVER-" Draco's muscles spasm as the pain pushes down harder on his chest. "THINK ABOUT DOING THAT-" It burns faster still. Draco's eyes close and his stomach clenches in heaves as what little is left in him comes up. "EVER AGAIN!" Lanius watches him writhe and cry a bit more. Then, he lifts his wand, taking the curse with it. "Get up," he snarls.

Draco's body lies limp on the ground. It doesn't move. It doesn't speak. Lanius kicks it with his foot and Draco's head rolls to the side. His eyes are closed and his skin is paper thin

"Fuck!" Lanius whispers. He points his wand. "Wingadium Leviosa."

Hermione walks quickly and willingly with the House Elf to the kitchen. It's the last thing she'll have to do today and she's been running through what she'll tell Colin all day.

As she'd hoped, Colin is already in the kitchen when she gets there. He's bringing plates over to the serving tray. When he sees Hermione he seems to let go of a breath he's been holding and almost smiles at her.

"Hello, Hermione. They want you to serve again tonight. Sorry," he adds, looking at her with empathy.

"It's all right, Colin." She leans in closer to him so that only they can hear. "I've still got the wand," she whispers. "Tell the people in the cell with you. We're doing this tomorrow night! It's happening!"

His face brightens dramatically, his eyes flashing like his infamous camera.

"Tomorrow?" he whispers. "Tomorrow!" For once, it seems the boy can say nothing else and Hermione has to shush him as the Elves look at them in suspicion.

"Keep it down! It won't be tomorrow if you blab about it. Now, nothing is different," she tells him, straightening herself like normal. "Everything is normal."

He nods, catching on and smoothing his face.

Hermione picks up the platter of food and clears her throat. "Tomorrow," she reminds herself. "Tomorrow this will be over."

...

A/N: AHHH! I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT UPDATING THIS! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! Technically it's still Sunday, but I should have done it earlier! I hope you enjoy, and I'm sorry again about my tardiness!