Draco had spent a whole day waiting in Riddle's Manor. He avoided the company of his aunt Bellatrix and Snape seemed to be hiding out from something too. Finally, they all gathered in the gloomy, cobwebbed dining room
"Good to see you, Draco," said Snape, looking grim, hands in the pockets of his robes.
"You too, Severus." Draco nodded. He groaned, tapping his foot – one -two – one – two. "The Dark Lord called us here and yet where is he? It's been a day."
His aunt swept into the room, her black robes swooshing behind her. "It is not your place to wonder, is it nephew?"
"Bellatrix." Draco gritted his teeth.
"Don't be so cold to your aunt." Her grimy hand patted his cheek and he cringed.
An eerie coldness settled over the room as Voldemort entered. "My apologies if I kept you all waiting. I'm sure you all have much more important things to do than serve your master as he pleases." His eyes honed in on Draco, whose stomach dropped.
"Apologies, my lord." Draco averted his eyes.
"You of all people should know better than to test me, Draco." The Dark Lord gripped his arm too tight.
"Yes, sir." He chocked out.
"With greatest respect, my lord, why have you called us here?" Thank Merlin for Severus Snape changing the subject.
He regarded each of them with cool complacency. "It's back."
"What is, my lord?" asked Snape.
"The Order of the Phoenix," Voldemort snarled.
Bellatrix slithered up to him, her hands on his robe. "They can't be much of threat to you, my Lord. Not now. Your influence is strong, spreading every day."
"Do not forget the prophecy, my most faithful servant. It is said that I shall kill Potter, or he shall kill me. We must stay on alert until the day he is dead." He extracted her from his robes.
With her head down she said, "Both my nephew and Severus had ample opportunity to kill Harry Potter while he was at Hogwarts. It would have been wise -"
Oh, no.
"Bellatrix," Voldemort snapped.
She fell to her knees and proceeded to kiss his feet. Draco's lunch burned his throat. "Forgive me, master. Forgive me. I did not mean to suggest you unwise," she sniveled.
"It must be me that kills Potter. That is the prophecy."
"Yes, my Lord," she stuttered, drawing herself up again.
Voldemort clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. Draco counted his steps, cringing when he stopped on an odd number. "Double the patrols in your district. Strictly enforce the 10:00 curfew and the ban against meetings of three of more people, outside families. Imprison and question those you see fit. If we find Order supporters, we can use them to track down Potter."
"Yes, my Lord," they said in practiced unison.
"That brings us to the next order of business. Bring her in."
Two haggard looking Death Eaters whose names Draco forgot drug in a girl with torn clothes and matted black hair. They shoved her to the floor, and Draco cringed.
"What's your name, my dear?" asked Voldemort in a sickly sweet voice. She did not answer. "What is your NAME?" he shouted.
"Padma Patil." She forced out the words with a snarl. Draco's heart beat a little laster. He remembered her from Hogwarts.
"Where is Harry Potter?"
"I don't know," Padma said.
The Dark Lord flourished his wand. "Crucio."
Padma convulsed on the ground, wailing. Draco watched unblinking.
"Where is he? Crucio." That time he didn't even give her a chance to answer.
Her dark eyes looked up at him, swimming with hate. "I don't know. I swear I don't know. But even if I did." She spat as she crawled to her feet.
"It's futile. Fighting back. I've already won. I'm your Lord and the sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be."
She was hunched over, breathing heavily. "If the fight was so futile, you wouldn't work so hard to track down Potter, to stop the Order. You wouldn't look so desperate."
Voldemort smacked her across the face with the back of his hand, the sound rang through the mostly empty foyer. "Bellatrix, take her to the cells. Maybe a year or two in starving isolation will change her mind about what is and is not futile."
Padma whimpered, but then bit down on her lip. Aunt Bellatrix grabbed Padma's around the shoulders, holding a wand to her throat.
Draco's heart thrummed, his hands shaking. "My Lord, if I may. Ms. Patil is an excellent witch.I'd like to request her as one of mine. I've had great success with Longbottom, and with-"
"I'd rather die," Padma said coldly.
Don't be stupid.
"That can be arranged," said Voldemort.
"Yes, Longbottom is an excellent servant. I have no complaints about him. And Potter's mudblood? What of her?"
Draco's mouth went suddenly dry. "You know why I asked for her, my Lord."
"Because you believe she is the most powerful witch alive?"
"Yes, sir."
The Dark Lord turned to Snape. "Severus, you taught the mudblood for six years. Do you agree with Draco's assessment of her talents?"
"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied.
His lip curled in a sneer, Voldemort's attention returned to Draco. "Which is exactly why I agreed to let you take her into your district, to use her, but Ms. Patil, she is no Hermione Granger. She is just your average, weak-hearted, blood traitor witch. Your request is denied, Draco. She is yours, Bellatrix. Try and get something out of her first. Return here afterwards."
Heavy, invisible hands squeezed Draco's lungs, keeping out oxygen. Control yourself. There are two chairs by the window two people by the door two hands two feet two eyes.
Voldemort's cold voice dragged Draco back to the present. "Severus, Draco, you may leave, but I better see some results from your patrols. I want Potter found and want him found now. And Draco, Granger better prove useful to me, or I'll kill her, slowly, and I'll make you watch."
His stomach did flips that no amount of counting could stop. "My Lord, I don't-" His voice was weak.
"Don't mistake me for a fool. You're not the first to desire filth far beneath you. Ask Severus." His red eyes gleamed at Draco's old professor, then he stalked out of the room followed by Bellatrix, Padma and the other two Death Eaters. When Draco looked at Snape, he noticed the man had bent the back of a metal chair he was gripping.
Draco was not feeling well after that meeting. He needed a shower, possibly eight. And he had to count the doors in the manor again. That was very important.
First he had to check on Hermione. Trying to shake off the last few days, he stepped inside the room where he found Hermione in pink-flowered night clothes that clung to her body sitting by the window, and Neville standing over her. When Draco cleared his voice, Neville jumped.
"You're already back, sir?" said Neville, sounding surprised.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem, Longbottom?"
"No, sir. You're just usually gone longer, sir." He swallowed, then shook his head and looked directly at Draco.
Maybe he should be more concerned, but everything was spin, spinning around him. Pieces of the world glancing by his fingers, pieces he needed to reassemble but could not.
Forcing his mind into the moment, Draco said, "Double the patrols, knock on doors. You know what we're looking for. Take Crabbe and Parkinson."
Neville nodded curtly. "Yes, sir." He disappeared out the door.
"I hope you were comfortable in my absence." Draco's words felt off, stilted, even though he meant them. Voldemort was more right than he wanted him to be. The curves of Hermione's body, the blush in her cheeks, those dark eyes. But mostly that look on her face when she was thinking, when she was about to cast a spell.
"I do enjoy imprisonment. I have to say I'm getting used to this." The sarcasm was obvious in her voice.
He sighed. "This isn't a prison."
"May I leave then?" She crossed her arms and plopped down on the edge of the bed.
"No," he said a bit too harshly.
"Then it is a prison."
Something came untethered inside of Draco. That part of him that made him real, tied him to gravity. Anger shoved him forward, wrapping around him like a thousand angry hands. "I'm trying. For the love of Merlin, Hermione I am TRYING!" With a broken shout, he slammed his fist into the mirror on the vanity, pain shocking through his hand.
Silence fell.
"Draco..." Hermione finally whispered, approaching slowly.
He started digging through the array of his mother's old things on the vanity looking for a bottle of healing potions, but the letters were all jumbled, his head twirling. "I'm fine. Just I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
"Where is the bloody healing..."
Hermione reached into the stack of bottle, wrapping her hand around a small brown one. "Sit down."
Draco swallowed, then slowly followed her orders, sitting back straight on the edge of the bed. She grabbed some bandages from the top drawer and knelt down in front of him. A sight he'd never had before. The top of her head, the dainty point of her freckled nose.
His hand throbbed as she plucked a piece of glass out and then wiped the healing potion across his skin. He breathed out for the first time as she tied the bandage tight around his hand. Hermione looked up, biting down on her lower lips.
"Better," she whispered, her eyes locked on Draco's.
"Better," he whispered even lower, unable to draw away from the light touch her hand on his.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review and let me know what you think. It means a lot!