Hermione backed away from the door instantly, nearly tripping and falling in her haste. Every cell in her body was on high alert. The walls seem to move with her, moving in and enclosing her.
She was trapped in her room.
Bellatrix let out another shrill cackle from beyond the door — louder, this time.
Closer.
"Mudblood! Oh my dear mudblood, I've missed you — where are yooouuu?"
Her back hit the panelled surface of the bedroom wall with a thud.
Hermione's desperate eyes darted around the room so quickly that everything was a blur. She didn't have her wand with her; the elves handed it over only when she was to heal either Draco or Narcissa. There were no makeshift weapons in her room.
She could hear the clicking from outside the door, drawing nearer and nearer.
"Mudblood! Mudblood, come out!"
The clicking of Bellatrix's heels against the marble floor had stopped. She was directly outside the door.
Hermione held her breath, pressing herself as hard as she could into the wall. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to melt into the wall itself.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and it seemed to magnify every sound.
The door knob rattled for a second, before opening with a slow click. There was a long, low creak as the door eased open.
Hermione kept her eyes shut tightly and nearly whimpered with fright. She could hear her own breathing, loud and obscene in her ear. Maybe Bellatrix would hear it too.
A few seconds passed. There was the sound of shuffling upon the carpet. She trembled against the wall, absolutely certain that pain would be coming, any second now.
"Aunt Bellatrix."
Hermione's eyes flew open of their own accord.
There stood Bellatrix, inches away and leering at her. Her hand had been outstretched but was now suspended in mid-air. The cruel, bony fingers were already clenched into a tight claw; no doubt preparing to grasp Hermione by the throat and throttle her.
A few steps behind her stood Draco, kitted out in his body armour and a travelling cloak. His expression was outwardly bland, but Hermione saw a flash of possessive rage in his eyes.
She nearly sobbed with relief.
Bellatrix whirled to face him, and the glittering malevolence in Draco's eyes drew back too. He had gone strangely blank as he observed his aunt, several inches shorter than him and as dark as he was fair.
"Oh, my dear nephew … it has been a while, hasn't it?" Bellatrix purred. Her hand that had been raised to grasp Hermione was suddenly withdrawn. It darted behind her back in a mocking fashion, much like a guilty child might hide their wrongdoing.
Draco's eyes were sharp as he observed his aunt, never once meeting Hermione's gaze.
"What are you doing here, Aunt Bella?" Draco drawled lazily. "If I had known you were dropping by, I would've had the elves prepare a room for you."
There was a hardness in his lilting words. Bellatrix's presence had been unannounced, and it was clear that she was unwelcome in his home.
Bellatrix gave a shrill giggle, that morphed easily into a saccharine smile.
"I'm only here to visit my dear, lovely mudblood. I'm your aunt, Draco — come now, we're hardly strangers; we're family," Bellatrix crooned. She batted her lashes up at Draco in a farce of flirtation.
"You needn't worry about me being alone with her," Bellatrix continued. "All this attention over a silly little mudblood, why, it makes me think there might be something more to her," she breathed, whirling to face Hermione. "Keeping her locked up in this manor all day, safe-guarded and protected behind wards … oh, I'm sure I could figure out what it is about her that draws such interest. The quietest mudbloods scream the loudest, if you know how to make them crack."
There was a manic light in her eyes as she stared at Hermione, and Hermione stared back in fear.
Bellatrix's eyes were unfathomably dark, like endless voids. There was no distinction between her iris and pupils.
"The Dark Lord deems her important and as his loyal, faithful servant, it is my duty to ensure her continued survival and safety," Draco said impassively. He could've been speaking about the weather, for all the interest he showed.
Bellatrix jerked back around in an instant to face Draco.
"What are you hiding her away for, Draco?" she said suddenly, voice hard as granite. The golden locket around her neck shimmered in the light, bending and reflecting oddly as Bellatrix grew suddenly enraged. As Hermione watched, the serpent etched upon the surface of the locket seemed to writhe eagerly.
It was excited for violence. The piece of soul inside the locket seemed to have woken; it craved bloodshed.
"I enter the estate as I always have and yet, I find her room warded — for what purpose, exactly? What are you hiding from me? You had important duties to attend to, yet you instantly Apparated home the second I stepped into the filthy little mudblood's quarters?"
Her last words were screeched and rang out into the room, loud enough to echo.
Draco quirked an eyebrow and allowed a small trace of incredulity to bleed into his expression.
"Has the Dark Lord not shared his interest in the mudblood with you, Aunt Bella?" he replied coolly. "Perhaps you should speak to him about this matter, if you are so inclined — if you find fault with my carrying out his exact orders."
Bellatrix froze.
Draco had said the right words.
"No, no of course not, I musn't presume to— I would never question the Dark Lord. That is to say, of course he will share his findings with me, in due time," Bellatrix simpered. Her demeanour was instantly flirtatious and provocative once more, bordering on indecent as she swayed her hips and slinked towards Draco. Her rage had disappeared completely, swallowed up by her transformation into a coquette once more.
His face was utterly impassive as he regarded the older woman, who had leaned in close to him.
"Draco, my darling nephew … be a dear and keep this little tiff between us, won't you? For your dear Aunt Bella?"
Bellatrix batted her lashes up at Draco, and stood on her tip toes until her mouth was nearly pressed to his. Draco's mouth was a flat line, but Hermione watched as one corner of his lip was tugged upwards in visible disgust. Bellatrix, face pressed firmly to Draco's, hadn't noticed the betrayal.
"It wouldn't do for the Dark Lord to think that I might have questioned him, even the slightest. He has, after all, stationed me here to keep an eye on the mudblood too," Bellatrix breathed, eyes alight with manic fervor at the thought of her master.
Draco's eyes widened for a split second, before he schooled his expression and tone once more.
"I imagine, between the two of us, the most devoted of the Dark Lord's servants, we will manage to keep an eye on one unarmed and utterly defenceless mudblood," Draco replied blandly.
"I'll have the elves prepare you a room near Narcissa's," he added as an afterthought.
To this, Bellatrix gave a shrill laugh that sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
"How I miss Cissy! You are so thoughtful, nephew. What a delight, it'll be like our childhood days in the House of Black once more," she purred in dulcet tones.
With a final caress of Draco's impassive face with her long, sharp nails, she sauntered out and slammed the door behind her.
Hermione stumbled and sagged against the wall with relief, tension and breath leaving her body. Instantly, Draco was upon her; he crossed the room in three strides and grasped her by the forearms to support her.
"Did she hurt you? Are you okay?" Draco murmured. He brought one hand up to Hermione's chin, gently tilting it up to peer into her eyes. She met his silver gaze, tense with worry, and gave him a wan smile. It did nothing to reassure either of him — her lips were trembling with fright.
"No, no. I'm fine, you got here in time," Hermione said weakly, brushing his hands away. A second later, the gravity of Bellatrix's parting words hit.
"Bellatrix," Hermione gasped. Her hands sought out Draco, and she grasped his arm anxiously. "She— Draco, she said she's been stationed here?"
A frown skirted across Draco's mouth. His forehead was creased as he stared back at her, evidently thinking hard.
"Evidently, the Dark Lord wishes to safeguard you," he replied slowly, expression growing bitter. "Withdrawing Bellatrix from active duty, to retire her to the Malfoy Estate and keep watch over you doesn't bode well. Not when Eastern Europe seems to be mustering an attempt at re-taking control over their governments."
Hermione froze, and stared up at Draco.
"There's—" she swallowed hard, before continuing in a strained tone. "There's an active resistance again?"
Draco's eyes glittered as he regarded her.
"The various governments that pledged allegiance to the Dark Lord are growing restless. There is growing discontent through the region; I've been busy shutting down protests which have gone unreported and flown under the radar here but … yes, there is a resistance movement," he admitted eventually.
Her hands scrambled, releasing their grip on Draco's arm to clasp his hand with both of hers.
"Draco— Draco, this could be it. This could be the end of his regime," she breathed. Hope seemed to flutter in her chest suddenly, as luminous and buoyant as fireflies on a summer night. Wild thoughts span rapidly in her head — escaping with Draco into the night, the sweet taste of freedom like the breath of life.
A thin smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"It could be the end of me too. I don't believe the resistance would take kindly to the High Reeve, given how many public executions I've personally conducted, and bloody revolts shut down," he replied drily.
Hermione tugged at his hand and brought it up to her mouth, pressing her lips to the back of it.
"I'm going to figure out a way to get your Dark Mark off, and then we're escaping this shithole," she swore fiercely. She stared up at him, willing him to believe her.
Draco gave a small snort and looked away for a moment. Then, he sighed.
"You need to stay in your room," he said abruptly, eyes hardening once more as he turned back to watch Hermione. "The library, the halls aren't safe with Bellatrix here. I'll have the elves check in with you and bring you whatever you need, but you are not to leave this room. Do you understand me?"
Draco's voice was low as he finished, and he gave Hermione a sharp, scrutinizing look.
A million thoughts were whirring about in her brain, but she forced herself to nod back at him.
"I understand," she said quietly.
He gave her a final nod before pressing a kiss to her forehead, and turned to leave.
"Be safe," Hermione whispered feebly. A tiny humourless smile graced his lips, and he left without another word.
She began to pace in her room. The window seat, the chairs, her bed — Hermione couldn't find a single surface that was comfortable enough to rest on. Eventually, she simply backed into the wall and let her body slide down to the carpeted floor. There, she sat with her head in her hands.
Her brain was working on overdrive. Thoughts and impulses whirled through like a hurricane ripping up trees in its path. All fears and anxieties had been uprooted and replaced with ideas.
She tried to school her thoughts and formulate them into a cohesive plan.
Voldemort's defeat.
She didn't know how it might happen. It had hinged upon her and Draco for so long, the only two that knew about the horcruxes and were in close proximity to them. Severus carried the knowledge too, of course, but he was nowhere near skilled enough in duelling to take on Bellatrix or Voldemort.
If there was an active resistance brewing in Europe, that might gain power and launch an offensive … that might work to liberate Britain from under Voldemort's control.
Hermione's heart leapt at the thought of it.
It wouldn't be just her and Draco, then. It would be dozens, maybe even hundreds of fighters.
She gnawed at her lip as she thought hard.
If Voldemort was defeated, then surely … their focus would turn towards the Death Eaters next. The High Reeve — the most visible face of the regime, next to Voldemort himself — would be captured, placed on trial, and executed.
Her heart hammered faster.
The horcrux hanging around Bellatrix's neck needed to be destroyed.
The Dark Mark needed to be removed from Draco's arm. As soon as it was off, she would run away with him. They would disappear together, resistance be damned.
Hermione worked feverishly during the day, confined entirely to her room. On the odd occasion that she was called upon to heal Narcissa, an elf accompanied her the entire walk there, clutching her hand firmly.
"Master Draco says we are to accompany you," Mippet had told her. There was a tremble in her voice as she spoke; it was evident that even the elves were apprehensive of Bellatrix.
For the most part, Bellatrix had remained strangely absent from Hermione's life. She had expected to live her life in constant fear of the looming terror that only Bellatrix could incite in her, or be subjected to an unending barrage of intrusions upon her private space.
Instead, Bellatrix hadn't visited after the first day.
Hermione had stayed tense and anxious, constantly on the verge of a panic attack, but the fear slowly faded when nothing happened.
Bellatrix's significant absence was explained when Draco returned days later, Apparating outside her door and stumbling in. He had crashed weakly into the bedroom wall upon his entry, sagging against it.
Hermione was at his side in an instant. She eased him into a sitting position leaning against the wall, and kneeled next to him.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" she asked desperately, reaching immediately for the wand in his holster. Draco had tried to wave her away, mumbling excuses, but Hermione was too fast. She had already cast her slew of diagnostic charms and was staring fixedly into them.
She paused for a moment, regarding them suspiciously.
His magic stores were depleted. This was … not normal, necessarily, but typical for Draco. Ever since the Blood Rituals, he had healed slower. In combination with his strenuous work, he was running on fumes more often than not.
What surprised her was the depleted blood volume, in conjunction with the near-empty magic stores.
He had no visible cuts or external hemorrhaging that would explain the blood loss. His robes and body armour were clean. His body was unmarred.
Hermione turned away from the diagnostic charms hovering above the two of them to stare down at Draco, her eyebrows knit in confusion.
"What did you do? Why is your blood volume so low?" she demanded slowly. Draco stared fixedly up at the diagnostic charms, jaw quirked defiantly. The faint glow of the charms overhead illuminated his face, casting stark shadows. He looked much older, and completely exhausted.
Hermione dismissed the diagnostic charms with a sharp flick of Draco's wand. With the light extinguished, they were cloaked in flickering shadows save for the sconces upon the walls.
"Answer me," Hermione hissed.
"I infused the wards protecting your room with my blood," Draco muttered. "The manor recognizes my blood as Malfoy. It's an arcane, ancient form of magic. It bestows the greatest protection possible upon the wards; Bellatrix could be assaulting the wards with an army of Curse-Breakers and never break in, not in this lifetime."
Hermione sat back on her heels for a second, momentarily stunned. Then, she reached out a hand and slapped Draco on the head.
"What the f—"
"You are so stupid," she groaned, grabbing Draco by the shoulders and shaking him. His body armour clinked loudly.
"Stop this right now, Draco. You, you're— blood wards? Blood Magic? After all you've been through, are you trying to kill yourself?" Hermione demanded hotly. "I'm not in any danger from Bellatrix, not when she's terrified of Voldemort and knows he wants me unharmed. There's nothing she could possibly do to me—"
"You don't know Bellatrix," Draco snarled back. He had grabbed her wrists and held them at bay, intent that Hermione should have no further opportunities to assault him.
"You have no idea how dangerous she truly is," he said in a hard tone. The hands that had clasped around Hermione's wrists were squeezing her, hard enough to hurt.
"Before the horcrux, when she was training me … if I slipped up, if something set her off, she'd torture me for hours. She pushed me to the brink, dancing across that hairline crack between agony and permanent damage. You saw how she was — how the horcrux was feeding off her, twisting her even worse," Draco murmured darkly. His entire body was tense as he spoke.
He truly feared Bellatrix might hurt her.
Hermione tugged at her wrists. Draco glanced down at them in surprise; he didn't seem to want to let her go, but he did eventually. Once her hands were free, Hermione brought them up to cup Draco's face, forcing his eyes up to meet hers.
"Do you know how dangerous this is for you? There are serious consequences to this kind of Dark Magic. Your body heals slowly as it is, you're making it even worse. One day, it just—"
Hermione broke off as her voice wavered. She swallowed hard.
"It just won't heal anymore. You can't destroy yourself like this, Draco."
You can't leave me.
She thought she could hear her heart crack and break in the silence that ensued.
Draco was silent for a long time, his expression tense. His eyes were hard as he gazed at her.
"It doesn't matter," he finally said. "I need to ensure your safety, Hermione. I can't allow any harm come to you."
There was a tearing sensation in her chest as she regarded Draco for a few moments longer.
He looked away.
"I'm tired of fighting with you on this," Draco murmured eventually. "I just want to rest before I need to leave again. Can you let me have that?"
Silently, she nodded her acquiescence. Draco rose unsteadily to his feet and offered a hand to Hermione, which she accepted. He began dismantling his armour, each piece falling to the floor with a dull thunk. When he had removed it all, he crawled into bed and blinked blearily up at her.
She joined Draco in bed, laying down next to him, and managed to hold back her tears until she was certain he had drifted off into an exhausted sleep.