"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,"
Saturday 31st July, 1998
Draco's arm gave a familiar sting, and he hissed as he gripped it. Hermione was stood next to him, staring at his covered sleeve with interest.
"I guess it's time then." She said quietly. Gingerly, she touched his arm. "May I see it?" He was disgusted. The intrigue written on her face and lacing her voice repulsed him. It wasn't right. He was a monster.
"You want to see it?" Hermione nodded, before pushing the sleeve of his shirt up. The tattoo glared at her from his muscular arm, and he winced as she lightly traced her finger along it.
"Oh Draco…" He tugged his arm away, shrugging.
"It's fine. I've been over it a long time." He pushed his sleeve back down and turned to the wardrobe. "I have to hurry. If I'm late, he'll probably kill me." Hermione made a sharp intake of breath, and flung her arms around him.
"Be careful. Please come back to me…" She looked up at him. "…In one piece."
"I'll try, but I can't make any promises." Hermione looked at him steadily.
"You'll tell them what I asked you to, won't you?"
"Hermione…"
"No!" She insisted. "I'm certain about this. Tell them that you'll hand me over; then it will be certain that they'll keep you alive."
Draco disapparated and arrived in a clearing. He began instantly to make the checks that Snape had always instructed him to. The clearing was surrounded by dense forest, he couldn't see any signs of life in the nearby area and there didn't seem to be an easy route of escape. Yes, it was the ideal location for a night of torture. Draco smoothed back his hair and looked around him, there was nobody else around.
"Ah, you have arrived." The hairs on Draco's neck stood on end - it was his father. "I thought you had deserted us."
"On the contrary." Draco drawled, looking nonchalantly at his father. "I have been working hard for our cause, and have had some success. However, you nearly ruined my endeavour at our little…get together."
"Did I scare your Mudblood friend?" Lucius spat, sneering. "Did she sob in your arms?"
"Yes, but she began to doubt my loyalty. She believed you were too kind to me." Lucius passed his wand between his fingers.
"The Dark Lord has sent me to check if your loyalty is certain." He pointed his wand at Draco. "On your knees…Legilimens!"
Draco's mind had not been invaded for longer than he could remember, and so he was unprepared for the attack. Lucius probed deep into his mind, and the first image he saw was of Draco pressing Hermione against the wall. Draco quickly manipulated it; showed Lucius how he had shouted and threatened her. It did not take him long to remember all of the pointers Snape had given him, and he believed that the invasion had been successful. Lucius certainly looked satisfied when he finally withdrew from his son's mind.
"Content, father?" Draco demanded, to which Lucius sneered.
"Yes, I am surprised! I had thought for certain that you were lost, but I am pleased that you are not. You are permitted to enter the meeting now. Come with me." Lucius offered Draco his arm and he took it, before they disapparated from the clearing.
The next location Draco found himself in was Malfoy Manor. It was gloomier than when he had seen it last, and Draco felt as though he could sense the absence of his mother. Lucius led him into the dining room, to the large dining table which all of the Death Eaters were seated around. The Dark Lord sat at the end, and he watched him with penetrating eyes as he took his seat.
"Welcome back Master Malfoy. Am I to believe that you will be of some benefit for us?" Draco inclined his head.
"I hope that I will be of service to you My Lord, especially after such a long absence." The Dark Lord gave a twisted grin.
"Yes…such a long time." He snapped his fingers and a glass of wine appeared before Draco. "Now what do you have for us?"
"I believe that, when the final battle arrives, I will be able to lure Miss Hermione Granger to you." There was a murmur of approval around the table, and the Dark Lord sat back in his seat.
"Potter's mudblood?"
"Yes, the very one. I have…" Draco smirked. "…tricked her into friendship, using my father's charm, and she trusts me." Draco focused on Hermione telling her she trusted him, knowing that the Dark Lord would be looking.
"Very good…very good." He licked his lips. "But I cannot help thinking that you want something in return. What could a young man like you, who has only just returned to us, possibly want?" Draco took a deep breath.
"I want to know where my godfather is, My Lord."
"Snape?" The Dark Lord's eyes flashed with fury. "Why? What can you possibly want with him?"
"He has always been a dear friend to me, and a good tutor. I need his advice on playing spy for you, My Lord, as he has much experience of espionage."
"Indeed he does, but I do not believe it is for the right side." The Dark Lord flicked his hand. "I do not know where your godfather is, Draco, nor do I wish to. If he is rotting in a forest somewhere, I will be glad of it. Even that would be too kind a fate for him." Draco fought the desire to argue, but simply bowed his head.
"Yes, my Lord." Voldemort exchanged a glance with Lucius, before staring at Draco again with his piercing red eyes.
"I have finished with you now, Draco. Go with your father – Lucius, you have my permission."
Lucius grabbed hold of Draco's shoulder, and before he realised it they had disapparated. Draco was flung to the ground, and he looked up to see his father's wand pointed squarely at his face. His arm was in immense pain, he had heard it crack when he fell, and he had cut his face on a rock. Lucius sneered.
"You have managed to convince the Dark Lord of your loyalty, but there is still a price to pay. Why have you been away so long? Where have you been?"
"You know where I have been!" Draco snapped back. "And I have been there for the benefit of the cause! The Dark Lord believes me, so what right do you have not to?" Lucius turned a violent shade of red; he lurched forwards and grabbed the collar of Draco's robes.
"How dare you?" He let Draco go, kicking him hard in the stomach. Draco led doubled-over on the floor, clutching onto his stomach and moaning in agony. "Crucio!" The pain was unbearable. It tore through him, sending waves of pain through every muscle in his body. Draco longed for it to stop, screamed for it to end, but the only response was the sound of his father's cruel and contented laughter.
After what seemed liked hours his father stopped. He strode over to him and bent down, putting his face close to his son's.
"I sincerely hope that you are not tricking us, Draco. The pain will be much worse, should I find out that you are lying. In fact, if you are…I'll kill you." Lucius disapparated, the pop resounding around the clearing, leaving Draco led on the cold hard ground. His eyes flutter closed and he could feel himself lapsing in and out of consciousness, until suddenly everything went black.
For how long Draco led there, he did not know. He had all sorts of queer visions as he lay unconscious in the clearing; his mother, his father, Snape, Dumbledore…and Granger. All of the other visions were fleeting and faint, but Granger remained there for a while. She knelt next to him, staring at him with those big brown eyes that both calmed and unnerved him. It was not the Granger he knew, but a younger version that he had tormented and bullied. She sighed at him disapprovingly, before conjuring a bowl of water and a cloth. He recoiled slightly as this dream figure placed the wet cloth on his forehead.
"You ought to be more careful, you know." He scowled at her. Seeing this childhood version of Granger reminded him why he had disliked her; that same condescending tone, and the patronising look in her eyes.
"I hardly got myself in this state on purpose did I? Do you suppose I asked my father to curse me?"
"No. But you signed up for the Death Eaters; you followed your father in the first place, when you could have chosen a different path. And now you're here, injured and alone in a cold clearing."
Draco bristled at this uppity vision. She couldn't be older than twelve, and was giving him a scolding. She was irritating him – he wanted her to disappear again.
"I'm here for a good reason. A…a friend asked it of me."
"That doesn't necessarily make it the right thing to do. You see, there are certain types of people for certain types of job Malfoy."
"And what are those?" She sighed and put the cloth in the bowl, before leaning back on her hands.
"Well firstly there are heroes. Brave, loyal, fighting for what's right…people like Harry and Dumbledore." Draco snorted, and she scowled at him.
"What about everyone else then?" He asked. "What are all of the other people doing whilst these idiots are saving the world?"
"Some people are simply there to help the heroes – like me and Ron." She tutted as he gave another snort. "And then there are people like…people like you."
He sat up so he could see her face properly, and was overcome by a familiar urge to slap it. She looked so smug and self-righteous – like Potter or Weasley.
"What do you mean?" He asked icily. "People like me?" She looked up at him, and Draco realised that she had mystically morphed into the older Hermione he now knew. She looked beautiful in the moonlight, knelt by him with her hair swung over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and glistening, as though the remains of a smile were twinkling in them.
"Well Draco…people like you are…evil and irredeemable. People like you…well, you're gotten rid of."
His eyes snapped open and he flung himself into a sitting position, gasping for air as though he had been running a marathon. Frantically he looked around the clearing for a sign that she had been there, but there were no footprints on the ground and the bowl of water had disappeared. He knew that it had been a figment of his imagination, a nightmare brought on by the Cruciatus curse, but it had unnerved him greatly. Although his muscles still quivered, he managed to pull himself to his feet, still clutching his wand in case his father returned. He needed to get as far away as possible from this clearing, from his father and the imaginary Granger, so he closed his eyes and disapparated.
Thankfully he did not splinch, and managed to successfully apparate into the sitting room at Grimmauld Place. A few Order members were milling around, waiting for his return, so he presumed that Granger had informed them.
"Mr Malfoy, is everything alright?" It was Madame Pomfrey, who had seemingly come prepared for every catastrophe.
"Yes thank you. But my father…the Cruciatus…." The nurse produced a bottle of something and a spoon.
"Take a spoonful of this every hour. It won't reduce the pain, but the shakes will disappear."
"Tell us what happened, Malfoy." It was Mad-Eye Moody, whose magical eye had been fixed firmly on Draco since he entered the room. Draco explained how he met his father and what exactly happened at the meeting; however he left out the part about Hermione and the deal he had made.
"And they believed you?" Lupin asked. "So easily?"
"Voldemort performed a deep assessment of my mind using Legllimency. However, I am quite an accomplished Occlumens."
"So it was a success?" "Yes, I do believe it was." The assembled group exchanged satisfied smiles.
Mrs Weasley bustled off to the kitchen and broke him back a cup of tea and a sandwich. He ate it ravenously, desperate to give himself some strength back. The Cruciatus Curse made him tired – his arms and legs ached, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Once he had polished off the sandwich, he turned to the others.
"Where's Granger?" Molly and Lupin exchanged anxious looks, which caused Draco's heart to skip an anxious beat. "Isn't she here?" Molly gave out a quiet sigh.
"She's gone. They had to leave immediately – it was important…she wanted to wait but…"
"But it was more important?"
She had left him again, betrayed him once more – at the time when he needed her reassurance the most. He wanted to shout and scream, hex them all and leave; get as far away as possible. But he had no energy; he could barely keep his eyes open, and his temples were throbbing. He let out a dejected sigh. "Of course. I'm evil aren't I? Only good enough to be gotten rid of." Molly stepped forwards and touched his shoulder gently.
"I think you ought to go to bed, Draco…you're delirious. I'll accompany you up the stairs if you'd like..." He didn't say anything, but simply stood up and left the room alone. Yes…he was quite alone.
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Author's Note: Another two chapters! I'm in a good mood (despite having a terrible cold) so i decided to treat you! Thank you for everyone who read and reviewed my last chapter - it means the world to me! :)
