Empty Halls

Two people were tied up in the middle of the room with potato sacks over their heads. They were seated leaning against each other's backs and were gripping to one another as much as possible with bound hands.

"The Dark Lord brought us all here today to witness judgement taking place," Bellatrix started, looking at the group of Death Eaters, "And honored me with the job of judge." Muffled cries came from the two victims who struggled after hearing the piercing voice announce their fates. She continued, "Though he isn't here, he sends his best regards-

Her voice was cut off once again when one of the victims started to scream, disrupting her speech.

"Oh, love, that was supposed to be funny!" Bellatrix laughed, walking over to the bound couple. When the girl hadn't stopped screaming, Bella's face fell. "If you don't keep quiet, dear, your fate may come a lot sooner."

This only antagonized the screams that suddenly became louder. Draco didn't think it was possible and winced at the emotionally damaging effects of such a scream.

Bellatrix's mouth turned up in a snarl and shook her head, "Suit yourself. Silencio." She turned to the group, a laugh echoing the hall, "What, you thought I was just going to kill her? Where's the fun in that?"

Draco felt the bile rising up in his throat.

"As I was saying, he sends his best regards and hopes everyone well on their tasks at hand," Draco's aunt glanced over to him, clearly directing the comment to her nephew. "Now, if anyone has any objections to what we're about to perform, say I - but know that those will be your last words, sadly."

A chorus of chuckles filled the hall. Draco's voice could not be heard among them.

She waited patiently, and when nobody spoke up, her mouth turned up in a smile. "Perfect."

She walked back towards her victims and began to take the sacks off of their heads.

"Henry Clearwater," She exclaimed to the room as she lifted the sack from his head. A man in his mid to late forties with light brunette hair and a moustache struggled against his bounds, yelling silently at Bellatrix. She rolled her eyes and lifted his silencing charm.

"Don't hurt my wife!" He screamed, eyes tearing up and face darkening in shades. This seemed to amuse Bellatrix.

"Oh, like this?" And without even removing the woman's sack, she yelled, "Confringo!" causing the woman to be blasted across the room, head hitting a sharp edge of a table. Dark liquid began to seep through the sack and, once again, his voice filled the room.

"No!" The man's scream caused the hairs at the back of Draco's neck to stand in alert. He remembered the woman's screams that had happened just a moment ago, and it was almost as if her voice hung grimly in the air. The man's head fell to his chest, screams and sobs echoing the room. Bellatrix smiled and walked over to the man, lifting up his chin with her thin fingers.

"Now that that's done with," She started, pointing her wand to his chest. "Deprimo."

Suddenly, the man's started screaming as his head began to squish down. A crack was heard and blood began to trickle from his eyes. Draco's stomach tightened at the sight.

"You disgust me," Bellatrix snarled as she let go of the man, "Entrailmento."

The man opened his mouth and organs began to expel from his body along with vomit and blood. Somehow still alive, he could no longer speak, but looked around helplessly, begging to be saved.

But no one would be his saviour tonight.

"Everte Statum!" Bellatrix barked angrily at the man, and after he was thrown across the room with a blast, she walked over to his nearly lifeless body. "You think someone is going to save you? You think anyone here even believes you to be more than dirt?"

She leaned down to the victim and, in almost a whisper, corrected him.

"You're wrong. Avada Kedavra!"

A week later, Draco awoke with a jolt into the harsh light of reality. A blanket of sweat covered his body and he felt at his surroundings, attempting to ground the electrical current within him and find his sanity.

He was in his dorm with Theo and Blaise still soundlessly asleep. He was safe for the time being.

He had found himself becoming increasingly restless, getting only up to five hours a night of sleep after that dreadful day. Two reoccurring nightmares plagued his sleep. Two forms of torture.

The first, bodily. In his most recent nightmares, he had endured countless nights of torture. Nights of bloodcurdling screams filling the air, Bellatrix's spine-tinglinglaughs crawling into his ears, and looking down at his body to see himself disfigured beyond recognition. Half of the dream would be him holding eye contact with the Dark Lord himself, looking into his snake eyes and feeling petrified beyond belief.

The second? Nightmares that came in the form of Hermione Granger.

A new pair of eyes started to fill his dreams. Brown like chocolate, lashes that can do nothing but kiss – these eyes did all they could to seduce him into a world of safety. Of warmth. But they haunted him all the same.

A groan left Draco's parted lips as he gave himself a moment to stretch out the muscles that had gone stiff under the stress of his insomnia. He removed the covers that stuck to his body, and, after coming to terms with the fact that more sleep would be a luxury his body forbade him from, he left the hospitality of his bed to get the stench his dream left him with off of his body with a cold shower.

Though Snape had provided Draco with a sanctuary away from his fellow students, Draco found himself frequently back at his Hogwarts-assigned room in the dungeons. The boathouse had become cold from both the coming winter months and the lack of warm bodies bustling around, and Draco had grown lonesome. The lack of human contact he had in the times he decided he would spend the night at the boathouse had become bothersome. He found his nights getting longer, and his night terrors becoming too torturous to endure. So, he left; only to return on nights when he was warned about Death Eater meetings. Only when he needed to figure out his assassination plans.

Very little times did that place ever serve as an escape.

When he had gotten to the built-in bathroom that only year six and seven Slytherins were provided with, he gave himself a look in the mirror and a grunt of displeasure was heard. Since his torture that had taken place just a week ago, his appearance had only grown worse; the bags under his eyes darker, his white skin paler. Now, his fringe clung to his forehead and sweat just glazed his upper lip. He looked horrendous.

He stripped his white undershirt and briefs from his body and stood nude, looking again at his body. He had gotten thinner and was beginning to look unhealthy, despite his recent overeating in order to compensate for the lost energy from sleepless nights. He gave himself one final look of disgust before he walked over to the shower and turned on the water to a hot, yet comfortable temperature and felt the sudden release of his back muscles under the massage of water.

A grunt of pleasure escaped his lips. Showers had become to Draco what many viewed their beds to be – his oasis. The only place where he could withdraw from what was expected of him and just escape. His body felt it and his mind reacted. He noticed the water become a little cold and turned the knob that controlled the heated water just a little higher.

As he cleansed his body, he looked down to his himself with a grimace. He couldn't remember the last time he had woken up with a hard on and that almost made him nervous. He had attempted multiple times to create an image that could provoke that spark again, but no girl that he had thought of so far made the cut. He was drained as a person. Magically, energetically, sexually drained. His body had adjusted to the heat of the shower and once again, he found himself turning the cold nob a little lower and turning the heat knob a little higher.

His mouth betrayed his thoughts and another moan of gratitude escaped. The water ran down his back and he felt his whole body unwind. Yes, the shower was definitely his place of rhapsody.

After he washed his hair and he found no trace of his former nightmares left on his body he turned off the shower and wrapped himself in as many towels as possible, hostile towards the cold air that would surely hit his body as soon as he was to open the door. He decided to give himself another moment of solitude and sat on the closed lid of the toilet, covered in his five towels. He felt pathetic.

After his moment had passed and he was dry, he pulled the four towels off his body. A knock sounded at the door. It must've been much later than he originally thought, and leaving the one towel to cover his lower body, he pulled open the door to leave the cloud of warmth in the washroom.

"Fucking bollocks," Theo started, walking away from the door due to the fog that followed Draco out from his steamy shower, "You know, just because your daddy owns everything, doesn't mean you own it all."

Draco scoffed, looking back at his friend, "Meaning?"

"You don't fucking own the shower, so piss off and let other's have their turns, too."

"Hey," Blaise pipped in, grabbing Quidditch robes and underwear to change into, "It's too early to get into this."

"Have their turns?" Draco laughed at his friend, shaking his head, "What is this – kindergarten?"

A look of apathy crossed Theo's features before he frowned, "You never even told us what happened to you." Draco rolled his eyes, throwing on another pair of briefs underneath his towel. Blaise nodded his head, agreeing with his friend.

"Yeah, we had to lie to Granger and the weasel an-

"I don't mind lying to Granger." Theo cut in, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"Why did Granger ask about me?" Draco snarled. Though Granger and him had a deal, he had thought it through that it shouldn't change their relationship or how he thought of her. It couldn't;especially not with the task he had to fulfill before the year was over hanging above his head.

While Theo was distracted, Blaise snuck towards the bathroom and quickly remarked, "She wasn't," before closing the door and locking it behind him.

"Zabini you fucking snake!" Theo threw himself to the door, attempting to slam it open. After some struggling, Theo threw his hands to the air, "Fuck it! I'm not fucking showering this morning!"

Dismissing the childish conversation, Draco went back to what he felt was important, "What happened with Granger?" He had already begun to throw on his robes, and he looked over to Theo who was doing the same.

"Just a run in with weasel boy," He shrugged, grabbing his wand to place it into his pocket. "He was trying to defend that mudblood and brought you up."

The word falling from Theo's mouth felt wrong and Draco visibly tensed. He had watched what Voldemort did to those who fell into that category – the Dark Lord had made a bi-weekly example of how one should look at those who taint the wizarding world. All this accomplished for Draco was make him feel sick and sympathize with the Snake's prey. A word that once felt normal to hear now became as cold as the lifeless, deformed bodies that had been placed under a curse to stay awake and endure as much torture as possible.

"Growing soft?" Theo snickered, a cool smug in place. Draco grabbed a pillow from his bed and threw it at his friend with a scoff.

"Fuck off," He retorted with a roll of his eyes, heading for the door. Theo's voice stopped him.

"Aren't you gonna wait for Blaise?"

"Why?"

"I thought you'd be sitting with us at breakfast before the big game."

Draco looked at his friend, shaking his head, "I have other things I need to do. I'll meet with you guys later." Theo shrugged his shoulders with a smirk on his face.

"Okay, just don't expect us to save you a seat." And with that, Draco turned to leave, in search of the Room of Requirement.

She had tried to research as much as she could about this Half-Blood Prince. She really had.

But no matter how many books she read at the library, in the restricted section or in books that were open to students, she couldn't find anything on such a character.

She had asked teachers she felt close enough with, even contemplated asking Dumbledore himself, but alas, no information had come up. So, she decided it was just a past student fooling around, and her interest in this Prince quickly diminished.

She walked into the Great Hall with the book and when she got to Harry and Ron, who were decked out in their Quidditch uniforms, she sat down and placed the book in front of herself. Harry's eyes rose to the book and his gaze snapped from the book to Hermione's face.

"Where did you-

"I couldn't find anything on any Half-Blood Prince, Harry." Hermione cut in and slid the book over to Harry who hastily pocketed the object. "I looked everywhere. Nothing came up." One of Harry's bushy eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

"Odd."

"Very." Hermione looked to Ron who was staring intently at the food in front of him, untouched. He looked ill. "Are you okay, Ron?"

The conversation quickly turned to the upcoming Quidditch game and Hermione found herself zoning out. Not because she was unable to keep up, but because sometimes, she was just truly uninterested.

She looked to the other side of the room where she spotted Theo and Blaise. But where was Draco?

She looked around the Slytherin table and realized he was no where to be seen. After that dreadful day, things had changed a little bit in her eyes. She had so foolishly thought weeks ago that if she were to give Malfoy that book back, he would vanish from her mind and they would just move on, pretending as if it hadn't even happened.

But no. She decided to go looking for the bloody bugger and saw him actually bloody and alone and half-naked and nearly dead. And since then, he had hardly even left her mind.

It was only instinctual; she had reasoned with herself. As much as it may feel as though she cares about him, it was simply her seeing him in such a vulnerable state that made her worry for him in the depths of her mind. And it wasn't necessarily her worrying for him, but it was weird sudden twinges of guilt about seeing him without his permission in such a way. Without consciously doing so, she found herself looking out for him when she could to see if she could spot new bruises or marks on his body.

Only once had she seen it. A small bruise above the back of his neck that was almost fully covered by his robes. But he had missed it when he clearly used spells in order to settle his appearance.

She also found herself thinking about who could be doing this to him. Why was he showing up to school bloody, and bruised, and an inch away from death? How could he be continuously putting himself in danger?

She didn't know, but her attention was pulled away from that for a moment as she noticed Harry slipping away his previously won vial of Felix Felicis.

"Ron, don't drink that." Hermione snapped at Ron when she realised what Harry had done. She felt Harry's elbow nudge her side and she turned to him and glared.

"Why shouldn't I drink this?" Ron questioned, looking between the two sibling-like friends, clearly missing something.

A soft voice came from beside the trio and Hermione looked to Luna, decked out in a lion outfit in support of the big game. "Hey guys," a small smile was on her lips and she looked at Ron, "You look dreadful. Is that why you put something in his cup, Harry?"

After Harry showed Ron the vial, Ron quickly downed his drink despite Hermione's complaints.

The game was a blur of screaming fans like always to Hermione. She had watched when Harry or Ron's names were being called, as best friends are supposed to do, but other than that she had wished she could tuck herself away and head to the library for peace. Besides, it looked like Lavender Brown had the cheering part covered on Hermione's behalf.

Pretending to be tucked away into her book, Hermione observed the girl. She was prettier than Hermione had initially remembered her to be, with dark blonde curls that seemed to be maintained well and a child-likeness about her face; she could see what Ron could see in the female. She was attractive.

The wind blew around them and suddenly she could only see the girl through the thick strands of her hair. Lavender's hair blew out from her own face in almost an angelic way. Bloody hell.

With a quick and quiet huff, Hermione turned her attention back to her book until Ron's name begun to be chanted by the whole student body. She looked up to realize the game was over, the players had grounded themselves, and Ron was being hoisted onto the shoulders of Gryffindor team-members. What had she missed?

The students were all quickly ushered off the stands and invited to a celebration of the Gryffindor victory by Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, handing out animated flyers. When she got to the ground, her two best friends had already disappeared to shower and change. She tucked her book away and followed the flow of Gryffindor robes to wherever the party was to take place. She looked at the flyer that featured a lion continuously roaring and fireworks. The Gryffindor common room, of course.

When she got there, she found the party to already be in full swing. Amazing, how magic allows such things to happen so timely. Butterbeer was being passed around, music was blasting, and Finnigan had already blown up something or other, with his face blackened and debris in his hair. Hermione shook her head with a laugh and took a seat on the middle cushion of the somehow empty dark red couch to wait patiently for her two friends. Dean jumped over the back of the couch and landed in the seat to her left, putting an arm around her.

"Hermione!" He smiled brightly at her, his teeth contrasting wonderfully against his beautiful skin. He made his hand into a fist and spoke into it as if it were a microphone. "How do you feel about your two best mates working together and beating the Slytherins into submission once and for all?" He shoved his fist towards Hermione's mouth, allowing her to speak into the imaginary microphone. She rolled her eyes with a smile on her lips.

"I'd hardly think that one game is going to finish a feud nearly ten centuries old, Dea-

But suddenly, there was a roar of applause and both their heads snapped towards the door where the Gryffindor team stood proudly with big smiles on their faces. Ron was in the middle, positively glowing, of course. When she realized he was too absorbed in the crowd around him basically worshipping him, she looked at Harry who had already noticed her and was making his way over. Dean was already gone in search of Ginny, respectively.

Harry had difficulty getting to the couch. The crowd was thick and he could hardly move an inch without someone congratulating him or giving him a pat on the back. When Harry finally managed to reach her he dropped onto the couch in the same spot Dean was sitting in.

"If you don't watch out, Harry, Ron might just steal all of your eternal glory right under your nose." Hermione laughed and they both turned to look at Ron. He was surrounded and absolutely loving it. Harry scoffed from beside her.

"Yeah, it looks that way, doesn't it?" He shook his head and looked at her. "So, what did Dean have to say?" She looked at Harry with narrowed eyes.

"Harry, just because he's with Ginny doesn't mean you have to hate him."

"I don't hate him-

"Well, it looks that way-

"But I'm not particularly friends the guy, either. And what about Lavender?" Harry was only rewarded with a large sigh.

"What about Lavender?" Hermione turned her attention towards the girl to observe her. She was clearly attempting to reach Ron, who was now chugging down a pint of butterbeer and the crowd was only chanting him on to drink more. "Honestly though, who could blame him? She's pretty enough."

"Pretty enough?" Harry eyed his best friend from beneath his frames. "Hermione, it's okay to dislike someone." Hermione sighed. Although she had previously admitted to herself that she wasn't exactly fond of Lavender, she didn't want to admit it to Harry. She was the sensible one of the three friends – the reasonable one. When Ron and Harry wanted to jump into action without a moment's thought, she was the one who reasoned with them to grab their wands and pack their bags. When the two wanted to solve mysteries, using tactics that could put them at a chance of expulsion, she had their backs and reasoned with Dumbledore. How reasonable is it to dislike a girl just because Ron fancies her? She would be a fool not to fancy him back, and Hermione understood this. She understood.

"But I don't, Harr-

She was cut off by the roars of the Gryffindor students and both Harry and Hermione turned to observe what was happening.

Lavender had reached Ron, and Hermione felt as though a needle went through her chest. Clearly, the crowd approved of them being together more than Hermione did, and this only made her cheeks hotter.

She got up to leave and a hand held her wrist. She turned around to look at Harry and he looked at her as though she had just been hit by a truck.

"Hermione-

She quickly shook her head and spoke softly, "It's okay, Harry. I just need a moment." Instead of loosening his grip, his hand slid down to her own. She sighed. She couldn't believe how incredibly Harry had always treated her. He truly was her best friend and she couldn't count how many times he had offered his shoulder for her to cry into, or his embrace to catch her when she stumbled. She always thought he was her soulmate. Though they weren't romantically involved and never would be, she understood that soulmates didn't have to be lovers. He understood this, too. She loved the boy in ways many could never understand. She smiled softly and gave his hand a light squeeze, "I just need to deal with this one on my own. I'll be back, I promise."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed into his frames as he studied the girl. He knew exactly what she was feeling right now, considering how many times he had walked in on Ginny and Dean in the common room, mouths locked and in each other's arms – if Hermione felt even half of what he had countless times, she would be devastated. And she would need someone, but maybe not just yet. Maybe she needed a moment to process everything alone, like she had explained to him. He knew he trusted Hermione not to do anything rash, and he trusted Hermione not to lie to him if she thought otherwise. He needed to trust her judgement. So he did. With one final squeeze, he let go of her hand so she could leave.

And she left.

She left as quickly and quietly as possible, not to draw any attention away from the scene that everyone so clearly enjoyed.

Hurt wasn't the emotion she could use to describe what she was feeling. Although she clearly cared for Ron, she knew something was budding between the two Gryffindors. She had been warned of this and had mentally prepared herself for months in order to take this hit. She wasn't hurt because, recently, her mind had been elsewhere. Sure, it had stung to witness her long-time crush snog another girl, but she had been warned. By Harry, to be exact.

That boy was too loyal for his own good. He never needed a thank-you from Hermione, no matter how many times he had stuck his neck out for her and defended her blood against others. Despite this, she had to remind herself to thank him another time. She owed him at least that.

But no, she wasn't hurt. More embarrassed, if anything. She was embarrassed that basically everyone knew that she fancied Ron, in a way, and he was snogging another girl. She was embarrassed that Ron hadn't even attempted to say hello to her before snogging said girl. She was embarrassed to have allowed herself be struck enough by the event that she had to leave the party that was in celebration of her best friends. She felt selfish and she felt embarrassed as she wandered the very empty halls.

She wouldn't let herself cry over this, that was for sure. That was for another time. She needed to cool down and rejoin the party to at least attempt to save face. She did not want to be questioned by others why she wasn't there for the rest of the night – that would just be more embarrassing.

So, instead of crying, she focused on the soft sounds of her footsteps against the stone floors of the halls. She focused on her breathing. She focused on the sounds of the castle.

And soon enough, the castle had begun to speak. She stopped dead in her tracks when she heard whispered voices coming from a hall straight ahead and to the right of her. She didn't know whether or not this was a private conversation and decided she shouldn't listen in. She began to turn away before she heard an all too familiar voice.

"You must let me help you," Professor Snape's voice almost hissed, "Draco, you cannot afford to fail. If you were to be expelled-

"I'm not going to fail." Draco's voice snapped back firmly, only loud enough for Hermione to just decipher his words. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she decided she was going to inch closer. She made her move, and she was just close enough to peer out from the corner of the hall to see Snape had pinned Draco against a wall and the two were basically nose-to-nose. This frightened Hermione and she pulled herself out of view once more. "And don't try anything! This is my duty and I'm doing it! I just need this plan to go smoothly and so far, it is."

"Listen to me," Snape sneered at the boy who clearly wasn't understanding, "It is my duty to protect you. I swore this to your mother, Draco. I made the Unbreakable Vow-

"Break it, then! I don't need you!"

"You're acting like a child, Draco, and when you're ready to be an adult, you will come to my office and we will discuss this further. Until then, don't let others see catch you roaming the halls and leaving forbidden rooms at this hour and be grateful that it was me." Hermione listened in carefully to Snape's flurry of robes and footfalls. They seemed to disappear down the opposite end of the hallway. It was only Draco left.

Hermione peered from the corner to see Draco looking furious. His fists were clenched and his eyes were shut. He was attempting to gain composure. His hand went to the wand pocket of his robes as if to check that it was still there. Why? She couldn't understand what the two wizards were talking about, except for the obvious unbreakable vow, which potentially played a part in why Snape was in the boathouse when Draco was hurt. He wasn't the perpetrator; he was the nurse. Huh.

Draco was shaking. He was breathing hard and shaking as he kept one hand on his wand and the other clenched against the cold wall. It soothed him. He was attempting to gain back his body from the anxiety ricocheting against his ribs but, despite the chilliness of the smooth stone wall, his body temperature was only rising. He knew that Snape was right; it could have been anyone else. Anyone else could have caught him leaving the Room of Requirement, and just like that, his cover would have been blown; just like that, his mom would be sentenced to death. That scared the fuck out of him. He was heaving by this point and opened his eyes to focus on something else than the lack of control he would have if he were caught by anyone else. He would have to kill him, wouldn't he? Was there any other choice?

When Draco's eyes snapped open, Hermione quickly retreated behind the wall, causing her foot to hit a bench that was stationed right behind her. The wood scraped against the stone and the deserted halls allowed it to echo around her. Her hand pressed against her mouth as she waited for his response.

"Who's there?" She heard him, unsteady and loud. She felt her breathing catch in her throat and she knew she couldn't run. She didn't know what to do. "Expulso!"

All she saw was an electric blue light heading straight towards her.

A/N: Cliff-hangers are always fun. Review or else Hermione dies. I'm kidding. Maybe.
Also, if you all haven't noticed already, I've been updating weekly (every Friday/Saturday). If this story gets enough reviews by May (fifty, in my eyes for how early we are in the story), I'll start posting twice a week. Right now, it's not looking that way, but you could turn that around!

NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW:

"Draco!" By this point, Hermione had resorted to begging him, tears threatening to escape her reddening eyes.

Love always, Elle – the author of this story.