Saving you regardless
Chapter One: Bounty
The darkness wrapped around Hermione like a thick cloak, even the stars had abandoned her on this night. She shivered, Gods it was cold, dressed only in what was left of a thin white cotton slip dress, it offered little in warmth or covering. Accompanied by four snatchers who smelt as bad as they acted, she knew that her situation was dire. She had been beaten and knocked unconscious, stunned and crucio'd until she thought she couldn't take any more. She was starving, thirsty and she felt so weak. As Hermione looked through the bars at the starless night, she felt like she was staring up into the great abyss. Wherever she ended up would be bad, but if it was Malfoy Manor, it would be worse than death. She knew that Malfoy had put a price on her head, she just didn't know why. Not Harry's head, not Ron's head, just hers. It was a lot too, 30,000 Galleons. This couldn't be some leftover grudge from Hogwarts or the war. She hadn't physically seen him for over five years. She shuddered; she had heard stories about what happened at Malfoy Manor. People who were taken there were rarely seen again. Percy Weasley had been whipped until there was so little skin left on his back, he couldn't even move during his rescue. She grimaced at the vision that entered her head. Poor Percy was physically healed since his rescue but mentally he was broken. He hardly ever spoke and never left his little box room at the Burrow. The Burrow, once filled with love and happiness, was now just a shell of its former self. A shell full of broken people. The war had taken so much from everyone. The war had aged Arthur and Molly terribly. Molly's once vibrant red hair was now shorter and grey. Her previously plump face was now gaunt and lined. Worry lines she called them. Gosh, she missed Molly so much. Molly was everyone's mum. She had adopted Harry and Hermione as her own, cooked for them, and nurtured them. Her motherly concern was something that had warmed Hermione's heart as much as irritated her during the war. Molly had thought that she could shield the "children" from the war effort, before eventually realising that, the war had been theirs to fight all along. It was Harry's war. His destiny.
The bitter cold of the December night had seeped into her body, she was shivering so violently that her teeth were chattering. It had started to snow. She watched as large snowflakes landed against the bars of her cage, shimmering in the moonlight. The snatchers wouldn't tell her where she was being taken to and after the last beating, she had learnt not to ask. Hermione had been in hiding for months, living in the woodlands, her little log cabin was so small, barely more than a room but perfect for her and Crookshanks. Her heart panged, Crookshanks would be sitting waiting for her, crying for her. A tear slid from her eye; she was fairly sure that she wouldn't see him again. She was in disbelief that this was happening. The war was long over, Voldemort was gone, and everything had calmed down. The dead had been mourned, the brave had been honoured and people had dared to dream for the future. Then everything changed. A group dedicated to Voldemort's vision had been spawned and horror ensued, Death eaters had united with Voldemort fanatics who had never made the cut as a Death eater and were now hell-bent on continuing Voldemort's sick work. Mudbloods were now a prize, something to hunt, catch and kill. Muggle schools and churches were crushed by unseen forces, leaving the muggles confused and looking for reasons for these tragedies. Once terrorism had been ruled out, the muggle prime minister held a press conference and stated that the disasters were a result of global warming. The prime minister was one of the few muggles who knew about the wizarding world. The wizarding families who had been against Voldemort were mostly murdered or missing. Witches had been caught and sold as slaves and she had even heard of Muggle children being kept as pets. She hoped to the Gods that wasn't true. Harry and Ron had been missing for months, separated on a mission to gather info abroad with Hagrid, her heart hurt as she thought of them. She hoped she was being taken to the facility where Ginny and Fleur were apparently being held but her senses told her she was heading in the opposite direction. She could taste salt and hear waves, "Please not Malfoy manor." She begged the universe quietly. She slept then, in her cold box, curled in a tiny ball. She slept the deep dreamless sleep that only the truly exhausted can achieve.
She was awakened by rough hands dragging her from the crate before being thrown onto a cold hard wooden floor. The floor screeched beneath her and burnt her bare legs as she slammed into it, landing on her side with a sickening thud, she hastily tried to cover herself with what was left of her dress. Her mass of brown and gold curls covered her face, she cowered beneath them and kept her face down. Firelight flickered on the floor.
Two huge black boots appeared beneath her hair; a snake etched on the front of the leather danced in the firelight. Her head snapped back painfully, as a large strong hand gripped her tresses. She peered through her curls and started to shake, Malfoy. Older, bigger but Malfoy. Two slitted eyes glared down at her, his long silver-white hair fell around his sharply carved face and tumbled over his broad shoulders. Black and silver tattoos swirled on his thick neck and chest under his black shirt. She was in awe of the sheer size of him. How was he so big? His hand, still in her hair, lip curled in disgust, he spoke through gritted teeth.
"I have waited for this, I can't believe that the greatest witch of our generation was stupid enough to get herself caught, do you understand why you are here?" His voice shook with anger. Hermione tried to shake her head but couldn't, so strong was his grip, she winced as his fist twisted even tighter.
"N- no" she stammered, her huge eyes terrified. She hated showing fear, but she had never seen Malfoy this furious. Dark energy crackled around him. This wasn't the Malfoy she knew. His aura was so black, the room was filled with his power.
"No?" his voice was barely a whisper, "what? Did you think that I would never find out that it was you who killed my mother?"
Before Hermione could even process what he had said, she felt pain, and everything went dark.
Hermione's eyes flickered open, blinking she tried to clear her vision. She tried to sit up and realised that she was restricted. Her tiny wrists were encased in heavy metal cuffs, her arms stretched above her head tightly. Her feet were bound together with rope and the rope was wound around a hook in the floor. She lifted her head and saw that she was in the cellar. The floor was concrete and covered in blood spatters. Sconces adorned the walls and were dimly lit with dark blue flames. The room was wet, with puddles of dark water pooling on the floor. Thick rusted chains hung from a beam in the middle of the ceiling. Hermione shuddered, directly across from her were antique stocks, open, eagerly awaiting the next victim. The worst thing was the temperature of the cellar, it was freezing, magically kept cold. Made to be so cold that prisoners will feel vulnerable, confused, intimidated and desperate. Knowing this didn't help Hermione, she felt it all regardless. If she didn't warm up soon, she knew she would die.
She lay trying to think of a way out of this mess, but she could feel her body giving in to the cold, she was so groggy, everything was numb, and she was so drained. Sleep would be best was her last thought as she drifted in and out of consciousness, hovering between life and death.
Draco was in his study, watching the scene in the cellar through an enchanted hand mirror. He'd watched as Hermione's small hands had tried to wriggle through the heavy cuffs. Her lips turning blue and her breathing becoming shallow. Her practically naked body was shuddering and he could see her little puffs of breath above her pale face. Seeing the little bitch laying there, defenceless and dying should have made him happy, but it didn't. His mother had died screaming and convulsing in pain. Some unknown dark curse was worked through her body and there was nothing he could do. He had watched for days as she had suffered. Her last words had been "it has to be that Granger girl Draco, it has to be". Her eyes filled with tears, pale shaking hand holding his chin. He stopped that train of thought. He would not go there. No no, the mudblood wasn't in anywhere near enough pain to satiate him. He wanted her screaming, shaking, sweating just like his mother had. He wanted to see the pain in her eyes, feel her fear. No way was she drifting off slowly to an endless sleep.
Burning. She was burning. It hurt. Hermione's eyes snapped open Draco's face filled her vision. The flames danced across his face as he sneered down at her. His wand was moving in circles over her body.
"Oh no, I don't think so, you won't be dying yet. Not until you have paid for what you did to my Mother". He hissed. He had used a warming spell on her.
"D- Draco please, I have never done anything to your mother. I don't understand, I–" Hermione was cut off as Draco stepped on her wrist. She whimpered and a tear slipped from under her lashes.
" . Mudblood" he spat through gritted teeth, pressing down harder with his foot. Hermione winced, his foot on her tiny wrist was excruciating.
"V- Vertiserum, give me that. I have never killed anyone, p-please D-Draco, this is a mistake, I could never kill someone." she begged, her huge wet eyes implored.
Draco lifted his booted foot and stepped back, staring down at Hermione he scrutinised her face as best he could in the dim light. He had never ever thought of Granger to be a killer, he had heard how during the war she was used for researching, healing, but he had never ever seen her at any battles. No, it must have been her, why else would his mother had said those words? But then… her eyes, those huge eyes looked honest? Something was telling him he was wrong. Seeing her like this was supposed to give him the revenge he had so desperately craved, yet seeing her cowering, covered in bruises and emaciated made him feel something else, uncomfortable, pity?
"Veritiserum…fine Tivell!" he yelled. A loud crack and a small house elf appeared dressed in pink rags.
"Yes Master, What do you be needing?" Tivell squeaked her large soulful eyes staring at Hermione.
"Fetch Veritiserum immediately" Draco barked.
Hermione was hopeful; the veritiserum would show that she had never hurt Draco's mother, and maybe he would let her go. The thought of the safety and seclusion of her little cabin and Crookshanks purring little body sleeping on her chest filled her with desperation.
The house elf returned and gave a silver stoppered bottle to Draco who unstopped it immediately and kneeled on the floor next to Hermione, "Open your mouth" he said ferociously, eyes glinting.
Opening her mouth, her huge eyes looked up at him helplessly, she swallowed the clear thick liquid, coughing as she was trying to lift her head to swallow properly. Her throat was so dry that the thick potion took a while to go down her throat.
Draco mistook the coughing for her trying to avoid swallowing it and clamped his huge hand over her mouth and nose. Hermione's eyes widened and she pushed against Draco's hand, desperate for breath. Draco held her mouth shut for a few more seconds and then released her.
"Look at me Mudblood, what is your name?"
"Hermione Jean Granger" Hermione whispered breathlessly.
"Did you kill my mother, Narcissa Malfoy?" Draco spat the words into her face.
"No, I did not. I have never killed anyone, ever. I couldn't." She said with conviction.
Draco blinked, his blue-grey eyes staring at Hermione as though he had never seen her before. His long hair had been swept up in to a knot on his head, his face covered in a sheen of sweat.
"What do you know about my mother's death?" Malfoy asked quickly.
"Just that she died at some point in the last two years, that is all." Hermione again answered quickly and clearly.
Draco stood up suddenly, like a viper he span around and punched the wall with full force, Hermione trembled.
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND" Draco bellowed to the ceiling.
He took one last look at Hermione, laying there, chained and tied to the floor, his eyes travelled along her body, watching as her chest rose and fell as she breathed erratically, trembling. Then he turned and left. Hermione was more confused than ever. She would be left here now, starved, and half-mad with fear. Forgotten about. Food for the rats.