Hermione POV
We didn't specify a time so I showed up to their room an hour after eating dinner. I didn't want to wait anymore. It would just be more time for me to think and over think if what we planned was a terrible idea. I wore my soft pants and large t-shirt in an effort to be as comfortable as possible. Delving into Malfoy's memory was going to be bad enough without wearing my stuffy school uniform.
Theo answered the door when I knocked. It appeared they had the same idea. They were dressed in a matching set of dark green, almost black, pajama pants and nothing else. The fact that they matched would have made me laugh if I wasn't so distracted by their bare chests. Neither of them were unblemished. I'd been so caught up in my want in the Room of Requirement that I didn't even notice the spattering of scars on Theo's chest. All the scars were a pale white, only slightly visible against his skin that was maybe two shades darker than Malfoy's. I was the most tan of the three of us.
Malfoy looked up at me from the edge of the bed, the fire light bouncing off his skin. For a moment, eyes shifting between the two of them, I was infinitely thankful that the magical world didn't use modern lighting. I pushed the thought off, angry at myself for the distraction. My magic swirled, gold and red that moved with me towards the sofa. When I sat, I was joined by the two men. Malfoy took the seat to my left and Theo sat on the arm chair that he had moved to sit in front of the sofa.
"Let's get this over with then," I said, before I could lose my nerve. Now that they were closer, the red overpowered the gold. I had to force myself to take several deep breaths to calm my magic. I was here for memories, clarification, and understanding. Not…that.
"Alright." Malfoy said and I looked at him. His face was blank, his gray eyes flat now that the fire was blocked by Theo. He was wearing his mask. The darkness under his eyes reminded me of how he looked in 6th year. He looked haunted, scared. "Have you ever performed the legilimency spell?"
I shook my head. I knew the spell of course. I'd read about it and heard about it from Harry, but I had never performed it myself. There never had been a reason to try.
"Lift up your wand and I'll tell you when I'm ready. I'll have to expose that memory. It will take me a few moments. I've buried it pretty deep and I'm not accustomed to bringing it forward on purpose."
My hand raised, wand in my grasp. I could hear the crackling of the fire, the soft inhales and exhales of breath from Theo and Malfoy mixed with mine, my own heart pounding in my ears. Malfoy stretched his hand across the few inches of space that separated us to touch my thigh. Heat washed over me, the red sparks flashing on contact. At least they didn't know what those sparks meant like I did.
"It's easier if there's a physical connection," he explained, even though I hadn't asked. It was thoughtful, a characteristic that I had never associated with him, but I was coming to recognize more and more.
Malfoy closed his eyes. I saw the immediate shift in him. His body tightened, despite the fact that he was already sitting ram rod straight. I could see the tension in every flexed muscle in his chest and shoulders and neck. His hand on my thigh clenched and a single word fell from his lips.
"Now."
"Legilimens." I spoke the spell and the world of fire light melted away. I was pulled into the drawing room at Malfoy Manor and I was no longer Hermione Granger.
I could feel an ache of anguish in my chest. The closer Aunt Bella got to her, waving her knife, the more it grew. I forced myself to stand straight, I needed to maintain control. I refused to look at her, concentrating on the floor at her side- dark wood that didn't bend or shift or break. Why did I care so much if the mudblood died? An image pushed its way through the walls of my mind- a hint of periwinkle blue, a soft, bucktoothed smile as she twirled in the arms of Viktor Krum. I pressed it back. She was just another mudblood.
"Answer me! Crucio!"
The scream sent a shiver straight down my spine, made the hair on the back of my neck spike. The floor didn't scream, the floor didn't bleed. I stared at the floor and nothing else as a clammy sweat broke out across my skin.
"How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"
"We only met him tonight!" Her sobbing screams scratched at my nerves, clawed at the walls in my mind. "We've never been inside your vault…it isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"
"A copy?" The shrill voice of my Aunt gave me enough strength to patch the wall to my memories. I concentrated on that voice instead of the screams. "Oh, a likely story!"
"But we can find out easily!" Father spoke, sounding excited like a child being promised a new toy.
Fucking arsehole.
There were witches and wizards being tortured in our home on a daily basis. Death and pain permeated into the walls. When had preserving the wizarding world turned into this? That was a dangerous thought, one that belonged behind those barriers. I shouldn't be thinking of the mudblood as a witch, as anything. I couldn't help, anymore than I could help Potter, no matter how sick of death I was, no matter how much seeing another magical person suffer on a floor I used to play on as a child made my chest hurt.
The screams stopped and without them, I could focus. I could preserve myself and my mother and Theo. I built more walls.
"Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"
My concentration slipped. My eyes moved quick, drawn a few millimeters over, and then a full meter. I looked at her, straight into eyes full of tears. The wall around my memories cracked again. She was laughing, seated beside Saint Potter and the Weasel, joking with the girl Weasel about something I couldn't hear. If Aunt Bella took one look into my mind at that moment I would join the mudblood on the floor, and what would that do to mother? She'd end up suffering right along side me. Mask, Draco! Hold up your fucking mask! More patching, more walls.
Move! I screamed at myself silently and rushed away to the cellar. Already I felt lighter. The farther I got from the drawing room, the easier it was to hold up those walls. I called for the goblin, holding up my wand to fend off the others, forcing myself to look only at the creature.
I was glad to return with him, to force Aunt Bella's attention away from the mudblood. She exchanged the goblin for her knife, shoving the strangely cold wooden handle into my hand. With her focus on the goblin I was able to build more walls, create locks, and construct mountains around my memories. I made myself a blank slate again. I watched her press the goblin for information, empty of thought, of feeling. There were no answers of worth from the creature and Bella's attention grew weary.
"Enough of this nonsense. Finish this, Draco."
When I didn't move, she spoke again.
"What are you waiting for?" She sounded annoyed. "Take care of the mudblood, Draco. You know the spell. Get her to tell me if that truly is Harry Potter in our cellar. Use the spell! Cut her if you must!"
The clammy sweat returned in an instant, my stomach churned. I didn't understand the sudden shift. Was she just bored? Had she peaked into my mind? Was she testing my loyalty?
My limbs locked up. I looked between the mudblood and the wand and the knife in my hand. Aunt Bella's annoyance turned to anger, anger focused on me. My silence, my lack of movement. There was something about my reaction that she didn't like. Her expression oozed suspicion, her eyes narrowing. I felt probes at the edges of my mind and fought silently to push them back. Mask, walls, mountains, locks. Her invasion tickled the edges, seeking out everything hidden. She walked over to me, lifted her wand to my neck to assist in her search of my thoughts
"Do the fucking spell…now!" The scream into my ear made me jump. I was so focused on keeping her mind out of mine that the shout was all she needed, She was picking the locks, seeping into the cracks, digging into the mountains, pulling at the mask. I lifted my wand.
There was no choice. It was the mudblood or me, the mudblood or my mother, the mudblood or Theo. The mudblood was the only choice.
I shoved back hard against my Aunt in my thoughts, enough to send her tumbling out of my mind. All my barriers shattered. For an instant, a single blip of a second.
Periwinkle blue, vanilla, bucktoothed smiles and sugar quills. Curly hair, screams of joy when Potter caught the snitch, intense stares at books. It all meant everything, just as much as Theo's angry kisses and his arms holding me in the middle of nightmares. I wanted it, I ached for it, I craved it.
"Now or I will end you, you snivelling little shit."
And just as quickly as it had meant everything, it meant nothing. I slammed the barriers back and the only thing that mattered was making sure I didn't die, that Theo and mother were safe. I had to do it, I had to mean it. Nothing. She meant nothing.
"Crucio,"
Her screams soaked into my bones and Bella laughed, satisfied. She didn't try to touch again at my mind. I could no longer feel the tentacles of her dark magic, but I could feel my own. It was thick as molasses in my mind, coating the barriers I had reforged and flooding every inch of me. I felt sick. The sensation of the magic was so disgustingly wrong.
"Yes!" Bella shouted, whooping with joy. I flinched, dropping the spell. "The knife now. The knife…carve her skin. I want to see the filthy mudblood bleed."
I tried to access the barriers, but there was only the sticky dark magic. I wanted what was inside. I wanted the joy that now evaded me. When I didn't move, Aunt Bella shoved me to the ground by the back of the neck towards the mass of curls, sweat, and tears. I looked at her and couldn't see the witch she had once been. The sludge didn't allow any of the memories to break free.
Aunt Bella gripped a hold of her arm, holding it in place. She nudged my arm and I placed a knife to warm skin. My hand shook.
"Who is in my cellar, Mudblood? Is it him?" The head attached to the same body as the arm shook, legs kicked. "Tell me!"
Aunt Bella glared at me. I could almost feel her thoughts of me. Weak, useless, traitor…I was afraid she would try to reach back into my mind though I doubted she could get past the grime. She didn't, though there was no relief. She wasn't done, it wasn't over. Her knee replaced one of her hands and she clutched onto my arm. Her hands were cold as ice. Every movement forced on my arm was met by a whimpering sound and I let the mask take over. I stopped pressing back against the hands, the word already half finished. I concentrated solely on blade against flesh- ignoring who it belonged to, ignoring the sobs. I was nothing. I was no one. I was a shell.
The memory shattered like hot glass exposed to sharp cold. I could feel myself again, the sensation of a hand gouging into my leg made me scream. Another suddenly pressed on top. I could feel the edges of palms and fingers on the sides of the hand on my thigh.
"Stop! Stop, you're hurting her! Stop, Draco!"
There was no response. I was struck by a tidal wave of memories. The conscious thoughts were lost and I was pulled out to sea.
It was just like Malfoy's memory. I felt everything, heard every thought. I felt the strike of hands and fists as my child mind conjured my mother and begged for salvation. The sensation of wet tears on my cheeks when I cried to my mother over a teacup, fear coating me. Still bodies, loved and feared, cold with death that made the air smell of rot or perfume laced sorrow. An unforgivable forced upon someone else to save them when they couldn't save them self, and the agony it caused to keep the spell going while fighting to stay alive. Shivering bodies surrounded by the doom and frost coated stone walls of Azkaban.
"Useless!" "Spineless!" "Worthless!"
The words came with slaps, punches, and sneers that were met by tears and despair. Consumed. I was entirely consumed in the onslaught and I couldn't hold onto the memories nor could I rip myself out of them. My own joined the fold, somewhere in the waves of trauma.
"Obliviate." The word was met with a cracking in the chest as my parents stared at me blankly.
"He's splinched!" Blood covered hands and split flesh.
The sight of Harry's dead body being carried by Hagrid, the great hall covered in dirty children that sobbed over the still bodies of their friends. Remus and Tonks placed side by side in death. Lavender Brown with a chunk of missing flesh from the Greyback's bite. Colin Creevy fragile and small. George cradling Fred's limp form.
I'll kill him. A flash of flat gray eyes and a sharp pain in the arm where it dripped streams of fresh blood.
The sea finally slammed me to the shore.
The sounds of gasping breaths echoed. A glow of light showed sweat soaked brows over bright blue and gray eyes, but it was the color of that light that brought my panic to the surface.
"What the fuck is happening?" I said, staring at the green liquid magic that oozed around our hands.
It wasn't the only light. The strange flames from the night I had tortured Malfoy engulfed not just me, but all three of us. It didn't hurt, but my chest still did, my heart ached like it was being gripped by a vice.
"I can't let go!" Theo said, trying to pull back his hand from where it sat on top, beneath the bright green swirl.
We both looked to Malfoy who sat silent, unmoving. Still as a statue and just as lifeless as stone.
"Malfoy!" He didn't even flinch at the sound of his name. I tried to raise a hand to smack him, to break whatever magic hold had taken place and free myself from the anguish that was making my eyes burn and leak, but I could barely lift either hand.
"Draco!"
With great effort, teeth clenching and groaning, Theo accomplished what I could not. Instead of a slap, he placed his free hand on Malfoy's cheek. The flames snuffed out at the touch, poofing from existence and changing the green magic from molten to pale wisps. The pressure on my body released. My chest didn't hurt as bad even though the memories I'd seen lingered in my mind. I was too focused on Theo and Malfoy who also swirled with green, everywhere except where Theo's hand was placed. What the…
"Theo," Malfoy said, his face softening from the pink sparks coming from Theo's hand. Theo's eyes went wide. He removed his hand, staring at the pink flecks.