Chapter 5: Pinpoint

Although the sun would be up in a matter of minutes, Draco decided that he still had time to hop back into bed to rest some more. As he was walking towards his room, he passed a few dozens of Death Eaters rushing towards the opposite direction. He found that peculiar since it was so early in the morning. So, he turned around and followed them. Maybe he had missed something while he had been downstairs with Hermione.

As he entered the hall where everyone was gathering, he quickly noticed the lifeless form lying on the ground in the center of the room. The rich brown curly mane spread in a circle around the girl's head almost made his mouth drop open. But then, he remembered that Hermione hadn't been wearing a dress, as was the girl in the center of the room.

As his breathing started slowing down, the room fell quiet and Voldemort entered.

"This morning, I shall be unraveling this young girl's mind," hissed Voldemort, "Fenrir, here, believes that the group he has taken possession of two days ago have been hiding something."

To this announcement, the crowd briefly applaud their leader. Once the room was silent, Voldemort stared straight into the girl's eyes that were forced open, and kept that position for about a minute.

Draco was terrified of how the next minutes would unwind. Being an Occlumens, Draco has the strength and power to keep Voldemort out of his head, but he sure doesn't have the power to resist any spell thrown onto him from the Dark Lord himself. In a fraction of a second, he could be reduced to ashes. He had to think of something, a plan, an excuse, anything! But his mind stayed blank, and seconds were ticking by way too quickly for his liking.

When Voldemort decided that he had seen everything there was to see in the young woman's mind, he killed her with a swish of his wand and turned to Draco, "Draco, why don't you come up here next to me?"

Fenrir backed up, and Draco, attempting to stay as classy as ever, walked up to Voldemort in a few elegant strides, stopping just a mere meter away from him.

"You seem to be well aware of the situation. How about you tell us what you know? I'm sure that what you have to say will be very interesting," ordered Voldemort.

Draco knew that he had no choice but to reveal the truth, "Ron Weasley is dead, and Hermione Granger was captured."

To this revelation, the whole crowd started chattering and you could feel the excitement fill up the room.

"That is not all there is to say, Draco. Please, go on," warned Voldemort, a crooked smile stretching across his face.

"She is in the Manor," added Draco, unpleased of the arousal his revelation was creating.

"Quiet! I believe Draco is not done speaking," insisted Voldemort.

"I have found Hermione and placed her in the last cell in the basement," continued Draco, his voice beginning to tremble as a few followers fled to the basement. He just hoped his protective charms were as effective as ever.

As soon as Draco finished pronouncing the word "basement", Lucius Malfoy had reached his son and yelled, "Why didn't you tell us, Draco? What were you thinking? Do you think this is all a game? You should have warned us immediately! Sometimes, Draco, your choices and actions repulse me."

"Sometimes? Only sometimes? Please, Father, I think-" scoffed Draco, enraged.

"Enough! Stop blabbering all you fools," advised Voldemort.

Lucius bowed his head and backed up to the place where he had been watching the scene at first.

"Draco, would you tell us why you chose to hide the girl from us?" demanded Voldemort.

"Because, all hell would be set loose if any one of you could get your hands on her," replied Draco.

To this, Voldemort started laughing, and said, "Oh, Draco, you are one wise boy. You definitely know how to get the things you want."

The whole room went as silent as it possibly could. No one had expected a reaction like this. And Lucius Malfoy felt nauseated just thinking that his son could want anything having to do with a filthy mudblood.

"Draco, my dear boy, you've earned yourself a new task," announced Voldemort, in front of everyone.

Draco felt like he was going to fall to his knees any second. What kind of torturous ritual was he going to have to submit to, or submit her to?

"You're going to extract everything Potter-related from the girl's mind. I need every ounce of information that she knows of," explained Voldemort.

"I am no Legilimens. I-" started Draco. He wasn't trying to give someone else the job, he just… didn't quite meet up with the requirements.

"The girl is too strong for that. She can't keep a Legilimens out of her head, but she would deviate her memories. No, you need to figure out how to make her tell you what she knows voluntarily," commented Voldemort.

"She would never do that. She's as loyal as a person can get. Aunt Bella tortured her for hours last time she was in here, and that never got us anywhere," exclaimed Draco, clueless as to why he was defending Granger, in all honesty.

"Draco, I could not care less about the way you manage to extract that information for that girl's body. Just know that you have ten days to accomplish your task and to present me her dead body. If you happen to be unable to respect that simple time limit, then I'll have a Malfoy head to pin to the front door," warned Voldemort before exiting the hall.

The crowd quickly dispersed itself, and soon enough, Draco was left all alone in the hall.

He dragged himself to his bedroom, threw himself on his bed, and just lay there, on his back, staring at the ceiling.

In a matter of seconds, his head started buzzing wild with questions he had no answer to. What was the right thing to do? Should he be blindly following the Dark Lord's order? Could he wiggle his way out of this? Would it be a good idea to advise Hermione of the situation? If he managed to get everything the Dark Lord so deeply wanted, would it end the war or was this all a task to prove his allegiance to their camp?

When some shuffling in his drawers made him come back to his senses, he could not tell whether an hour or twelve had passed by. As he sat up in his bed, he felt as if he was waking up from a bad dream. Maybe he had fallen asleep.

"Laffy?" asked Draco, tiredly.

"Oh! Master, I thought you were still with the girl. I apologize for all disturbances I may have caused," said Laffy, quickly.

"Do not worry, you have not posed any problem to me. As a matter of fact, it is good that you are here right now," announced Draco, an idea popping into his head. Maybe Laffy could help him figuring out what move he should be attempting next in this mess he half-willingly chose to jump into.

"Does Master need help with anything?" inquired Laffy.

"Well, remember when I told you that the girl's presence had to be kept secret, and that a moment would come when it would be revealed?" started Draco.

"Yes, I remember, Master," acknowledged the small elf.

"Well, the Dark Lord and pretty much everyone here now knows about her location," completed Draco, exasperated.

"That is bad, Master, isn't it?" asked Laffy, worried.

"Yes… Because I was given the task to make her spill all her secrets about Potter before killing her," explained Draco, the end of his sentence: a whisper.

"Master is going to kill the girl?" demanded Laffy, shocked. She knew she wasn't allowed such attitude towards her masters, but she was way too flabbergasted to even notice her mistake.

"Do I have the choice?" grumbled Draco, his hand now rubbing his forehead.

"Laffy thought Master cared for the girl," said Laffy, still thoroughly surprised about what her Master was planning to do to the sweet girl he cared for over the two passed days.

"You are a house elf! How dare you speak to me like that? You will not be judging my actions as freely as you have" shouted Draco, sounding offended, but truly just embarrassed the truth was spoken out loud. As the words escaped his mouth, he felt as if his father had spoken them, and immediately felt guilty to the bone about what he had done. He was not going to abuse of his position on this little creature that had done everything he asked for the past two days.

"Master, please forgive Laffy for being a stupid, foolish elf!" pleaded Laffy, her eyes watering.

"I'm the one who has to apologize, I believe. It wasn't right of me to snap like that at you. I'm feeling as if I was gripping on the last bit of sanity I have left… And it's slipping right between my fingers as I'm trying to figure out how to get bloody Granger to open up to me. It's taking a toll on me," admitted Draco.

"Well, if Master desires the girl to confide her secrets to you, Master will need to earn her trust," said Laffy, trying to help figure out a solution.

"She would never –" half-laughed Draco.

"To earn her trust, Master will need to demonstrate he trusts her, first," cut Laffy, completely ignoring Draco's intervention.

"And how will am I supposed to do that?" asked Draco, showing a little interest.

"Master will have to provide some of his own deepest secrets to access the same from her," continued Laffy.

"I have to spill the beans? That would only scare her away! And all this trust relationship thing is a type of intimate we definitely won't be comfortable with. Bloody hell, making her fall in love head over heels with me, a sworn enemy of hers for as long as we've known each other, in as little as ten days seems like a goal just as close to being completed as this trust thing," grunted Draco, seemingly desperate about the whole situation.

"Wait… Master, I think you pinpointed exactly what route you must take!" exclaimed Laffy, very excited.

"Making her fall in love with me?" scoffed Draco.

"Yes!" shouted Laffy.

"In case you haven't gotten the clue when you were in the cell with her, she just lost the love of her life two days ago. The probability of your plan working out is completely and entirely null," said Draco.

"Well, Master should start out by trying to befriend the girl," suggested Laffy. Laffy was aware that Hermione had lost her lover two days ago, but Draco wasn't looking at the situation with an outsider's view. Laffy had seen that both were desperate for some kind of comfort that would only be brought by the other, and for that reason, Laffy was convinced that it would work out.