"Inside us all is the power to do good. The Word of God will show you the way. Thou must not SIN. Protect yourselves. Protect your families. Report sinners to The Men of Temples and be forever destined for the Kingdom of Heaven, and He, our God."

The message was on a loop. It was repeating from the towers above their heads. It was scrolling at the bottom of the television screens in all the store windows. It was zinging back and forth in their very memories. It was everywhere. And it was toxic.

The people who rushed by them were covered, head to toe in their dress, perhaps to shield from sand and sun… perhaps to compliment their religious beliefs, which they both knew and understood as harmless and simply a matter of faith… or, perhaps, they were seeking to hide their very identities from those around them… to lose their identity in a sea of faces… to become one person, in many shapes and sizes, but unanimous in complete obedience. Hermione couldn't help but sympathize, as a tight lump formed just above her heart. This is what their world might have been… if it wasn't for her best friend, Harry Potter. If it wasn't for she, and Ron, and all their friends and families… this might have been her future… in hiding, and prosecution… and while her insides quivered at that very notion… the idea that here, wizards of all shapes and sizes might be being imprisoned, and stripped of their abilities… was enough to ignite that same fire in her.

"You ready?" he asked her. She shifted her eyes to him… the only part of her he was able to see. She nodded. He nodded back, but behind someone else's eyes. It wasn't a Polyjuice Potion. It was a simple disguise. She didn't want to chance that these muggles may be able to pick up on her charms and spells. A simple apparation from the village to nearby Asia had allowed her to purchase some needed supplies for the operation. Darker foundation, brown powders, some colored contacts for Draco's icy, blue eyes. Unable to shave, what hair had sprouted in the last few days was colored brown, as was the lovely, long hair on his head. The villagers had marveled at her 40-minute transformation for him, underneath the veil that shielded nearly all of him. But, in case their disguises were removed… she had to be prepared.

Here, a woman's eyes could be alluring, and very telling… which was why she had darkened hers in the inner corners, and underneath… made herself look aged, maybe a bit sickly. Not certainly female, and not certainly male. Her own skin was also darkened, and her hair was tucked in a way that made it look much shorter… if anyone was to assume, she was prepubescent; with no beard (and there was no way to get a fake one of any decent quality on such short notice) she fit the bill, perfectly. Hopefully, their disguises would remain in place, and it would never become an issue... but they had to be convincing, just in case.

They shifted closer together and began to weave through the city streets. The words of the loudspeakers stuck with her… it was like something out of a dark film… something from the 1940s. This place was akin to a death camp… but where were the bodies? No electric fence? It took one Hell of a command to keep your prisoners in, when they knew they were physically able to walk out. No one had tried. Their food and water came on tanks and carts… but no one had so much as walked three feet toward the boarders of the town since they'd arrived… and they didn't expect anyone was going to.

The one thing she did insist upon before they left the village- the one thing she was sufficiently convinced would be safe… was to chew and ingest The Kalify Plant, a relative of The Seven Tongues Plant in Brazil. She'd studied it before, and coupled with the proper verbal spells, it was shown to produce a deeper understanding of foreign languages. The villagers had been nice enough to chant for them in the native tongue. And she was glad they had. The amount of verbal propaganda was astounding, and she and Draco heard everything as if uttered in English. Without it, they'd have been traveling in the dark.

What it did not do, however, was help them speak any foreign languages, so they'd have to keep their volume down to a minimum… especially when any one of the passerby's might be attempting to score details on a new face in exchange for a little less fear in his daily life.

"You picking up on anything?" he asked her. She shook her head. She felt it now more than ever… the desolate emptiness… the complete lack of magical energy. The world was colored in blacks and whites… the buildings themselves were creams and rotting browns… where was the color and spirit of this part of the world? Surely with any magical energy being released from a human body, there must be color? Spark? But then, her mind didn't want to think much on just how that spark was being separated from the human core. She shuddered.

"There," she said, suddenly.

"Hmm?"

Her eyes had found a large, spherical dome structure. Atop it, guards were poised. They wore armbands with tiny, symbolic shapes on them… possibly Temples, she realized. She grabbed Draco's wrist, and pulled him forward.

A man collided with them. She gasped a little, knocked backward, and released Draco's hand. The man looked between them, uttered a quick sorry, and fled. Draco stared after him, then looked to Hermione.

"Poor buggers," he muttered. Hermione shrugged. They looked to the structure together. She closed her eyes, focused all of her energy on the dome. Strong electrical fields were inside… they were suppressing anything else. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard what she thought may have been a telltale wail. Her eyes popped open.

"This is it," she said, surely. Draco nodded.

"I know."

"Walk with me, let's not draw attention." Hermione's hand subconsciously covered her core thoughtfully as they walked. She swallowed, hard. She leaned in toward him. "Whatever's going on in there… do you think it'll be too much for—"

"There's no way to tell," he cut her off. She nodded. She'd known that before she asked. He sighed. "I'm sorry… not trying to be cold… I just don't want to lie to you," he finished. She nodded.

"I know."

They stood face to face now in an alleyway. They heard raised voices from the apartments inside the buildings on either side of them, animals growling, snapping… mud splashing… wind blowing. Draco lowered his hood. Even in this new skin, he was beautiful. Her heart skipped a beat.

"What's our plan, then?"

"We need proof before we can call in the troops."

"They wouldn't trust your judgment?"

"It's not a personal issue, it's a matter of protocol."

"Bollocks. You could tell Potter the House Elves rebelled and set fire to everyone's socks and he'd send you 100 armed wizards. And with the baby?" His eyes widened at the look on Hermione's face.

"Why does it have to be house elves?"

"What?"

"I…" she rolled her eyes. Not the time or place. "Never mind. Fact is… I can't call him. Not yet. He'd hear my call and apparate on the spot. But that's rather the point. It would just be Harry... and I don't trust this place yet. One whiff of magic and there's no telling what they'll be able to do to sedate us. It won't matter if there are two of us or 50, and if we wait, at least there are people at home who can come looking."

"Yeah, right. That worked so well for my Uncle…"

Silence passed between them during which neither of them looked at one another.

"We need proof," she reiterated. He took a deep breath.

"Fine. What will suffice?"

"Not sure, yet," she said. She glanced over his shoulder taking in the quality of life these people suffered. She imagined the children, growing up never to understand the color of life beyond this city. Her heart swelled and sank… the hour they'd been inside was a veritable nightmare. A lifetime? How could any of them survive it?

"We need to get inside," she said, distracting herself. "If I can see… really see something that will show them there's something here—other than a village of folk-religious muggles, or… Wicca… then I can transfer that information into Harry's Pensieve. Better yet, we'll know what to prepare for."

"But getting in… even if we knew how to get inside… just how are we going to get back out? It's not as if common people are walking inside, Hermione, these are armed guards… and without magic, I'm just not sure we're going to be able to pull that off."

"No?" she was batting lashes at him. He pursed his lips at her.

"No."

She turned suddenly, facing the opening of the alleyway. They heard footsteps. He hastened to get his hood back up around his face. He righted it just as the man who'd earlier pressed into them in the road came around the corner, two armed guards following him, guns out. He was shouting.

"That's them, there! They're not from around here, but they wear our dressings! And they touched! The small one, he grabbed the larger's hand! They are not of our faith!"

The guns were pointed at them. Hermione closed her eyes as they were approached. Their dressings were yanked from their heads. The guards stared between their faces. One nudged Draco with the barrel.

"You. What is your name? Why are you here?" Hermione swallowed. Either they weren't addressing her because they knew she was female… or because they thought her a young boy. Her heart was hammering as the gun pressed into Draco's chest.

"Hamid," Draco said, his accent shifting toward theirs. Hermione let out a shallow breath, always grateful for his wit… the wit she used to despise. They looked to Hermione.

"And him?"

"Errrrrmen." Draco muttered.

"What?"

"Ermen," he repeated, standing taller. It was impossible to tell if they were buying it. Their dressings too covered most of their faces, and their eyes didn't tell her much.

"Is it true that you were seen touching in the street?"

"Eerrrr…." He began. Hermione saw an opportunity and took it. Stepping backward, she stumbled and pulled onto Draco's shirtsleeve to stay upright. The armed men reacted, guns flying toward her. She couldn't breathe. Draco steadied her, his legs shaking, but managed somehow to turn to them, rolling his eyes, expressing with a wave of his hand. The guards began to understand. They looked at one another for a moment, and nodded once. They began to ebb away, withdrawing their weapons.

The man from the street appeared panicked.

"No, no! I swear! He did not trip! He GRABBED him, see?" The man made a grab for the arm of the guard, and was struck down by the butt immediately. Hermione gasped, stepping backward, covering her mouth. That caught their attention. As the man lay moaning on the ground, his face covered, the guards stepped back toward them.

"Maybe you come with us to the temple now, for further investigation," one of them said. Hermione swallowed, hard. Draco nodded to them, and the guards grabbed each by the outer arm, walking them out of the alley.

He stared at her, his eyes boring into hers.

Was that the intention, then?

Well, I was rather hoping no one was going to need to bleed over it.

Could have at least warned me….

You'd have moved us before they came around. I've been captured loads of times. It never gets easier, but it always ends up okay. It's a necessary evil, and the shortest road to getting inside. Just trust me.

Right.

And with that, he went silent. She wasn't sure if he was listening to her, or just too frustrated to keep arguing. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and watched as the domed temple became ever larger as they were marched toward it to face whatever lay ahead.

The inside of the domed building was like nothing Draco had ever seen. It chilled him to the bone. The air was acrid with sweat, and the noise level was high. People of all ages, shapes and sizes were lined up, waiting at windows and counters to have sacks rummaged through and their personal selves examined without an ounce of privacy. Men wearing blue gloves were going through their things carelessly, tossing items to the floor, or in the trash. He watched as their entire lives were laid bare for the room to see, as if all their belongings, memories, achievements, meant nothing. Pairs of glasses, clothes, photographs of loved ones, books, shoes, souvenirs of the past, foods and drink… occasionally one of the gloved men would find something of interest, hold it up, nod his head, and the robed person before him would be whisked away without a word… if ever there was an utterance of protest from a child or spouse, that person would be clobbered without restraint, then led away after their loved one.

They were pushed from behind toward one of the windows, as they carried no belongings. On their way into the line they were felt up and down under their robes by an armed guard. He nodded them forward, and Draco heaved a long breath of relief that they'd left nearly everything back at the village.

"Identification?" he heard the man at the window asking. He gulped. Neither of them had anything. He leaned over Hermione's shoulder.

"Still all part of the plan?"

"It's obvious this isn't the end game. I'm guessing there's more… another floor, maybe. Until we know for sure, we're cooperating strangers.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. He didn't like this. He wondered vaguely if this was how she'd spent her school days… or nights. Any number of times, his snotty (and a little more than jealous) arse followed them around, it was usually to see them doing something dangerous, but… she'd never been alone, before. She seemed so calm.

But then… she wasn't really alone.

They came to the window quicker than he would have liked. The line had seemed to stretch on for days. Wasn't that always the way?

"Identification?" he asked. Hermione just started at him, cocked her head to the side a bit. She shrugged. The man's eyes narrowed.

"Identification?" he repeated, a bit louder. She shook her head. The man turned from her and whispered something to a guard beside him. That guard motioned over Hermione's shoulder and another appeared to escort her forcefully away. Hermione said nothing as a gun was pressed to her back and she was ushered down a long hallway past a handful of other people. Draco was waved toward to the window.

"Identification?"

Hermione walked down the hallway with her heart behind her ears. No matter how many times she faced death, it never got easier. Death was never an acquaintance, or a friend… it would always be a stranger, until it came for her. She prayed that Draco was coming up right behind her… that they weren't going to separate them—at least not yet. She gave him credit for much that he'd done, but she wasn't completely confident that he would understand how to manipulate situations like these, just yet. She was partially terrified that he was going to get himself killed. In this way, she was the expert… no matter how much of a stranger death was.

They came to the end of a long hallway and she was able to peer into windows. One room held children… she guessed ages one to ten. They were young. There were flash cards and beanbags in the brightly lit room… it looked rather normal, for this corner of the world. It was probably more fun than anything they'd known in their young lives, with toys and even television. She watched for just a moment as a toy rabbit was snatched from the hand of a young girl by a robed adult. And then, they were gone- her vision interrupted by the expanse of a long, white wall.

They moved instead to a room around the corner. He led her through the doorway and then closed the heavy, metal door behind her. She turned to it, looked it up and down, and then looked around the room. This one seemed to fit into the picture much better: No chairs. No tables. Metal walls and a hard floor. She looked all around it… soundproof, she could tell. She read the terror in the eyes of the people around her. Husbands seemed to be hugging wives from behind, protective… hands were shaking. Teenaged sons and daughters were being cradled by worried mothers. She felt her own hands wringing under her robes. The door opened and a family of three stepped inside. She held her breath and took a seat by the wall.

She drew her legs up to her chest and fell into an old habit… she observed. Sprinklers on the ceiling… two large lights up top that were not currently on, on either side of the center light, a ceiling fan, a light that helped them see, though the large, factory sized fan was currently off… There were slots along the wall that appeared to open and close. Currently, they were nearly invisible. Where were the chains and torture devices? This wasn't living up to her worst nightmares, just yet… there had to be more.

The door opened. Draco was pushed inside. She knew his gait, she realized. All the air left her at once and he ran to her. He hugged her, pulling her up on tip toe, and then let her slide back to the ground. He looked into her eyes, and she could tell he smiled, briefly. She backed against the wall again. "I was worried about you," she admitted.

"Why?" he asked. "I'm still charming, even if you're not a girl and I can't speak your language." She smiled in spite of herself.

"Charming enough to get thrown into the naughty ward... Humility looks great on you."

The lights went out, and the gasps of those around her stirred her to silence. She felt Draco's hand on her arm. Then, out of nowhere, the loudest of wails was heard… several people were whispering, then one woman screamed. The lights came on. Hermione's eyes found her: hands on either side of her head, looking madly around. The doors opened. All eyes flew toward it. Two guards stood holding what appeared to be a six-year-old boy with tears streaming down his face. The faintest cloud of smoke lingered above his head. Two more entered and took the woman.

"My baby!" she was screaming, in her native tongue. They were reunited for them to see for seconds, and then the door closed again… and the room was left only with one another. So badly, she wanted to ask them questions… if only she could. She waited around, ears wide open, to try and hear a glimpse of what was to come.

"Did you see the smoke?" she heard a man ask. She found him in the crowd and honed in. She focused on him and the boy beside him, completely.

"Devil's magic," she heard the boy answer. He was sweating. Hermione looked to the father. He was burning a hole in the boy's shoulders with those eyes of his.

"No matter what they say to you… do to me… you keep it inside," he said, just above a whisper. The boy whirled on him, looking incredulous, perhaps even insulted. The father silenced him with one look, his hand raised.

"Just do as I say," the father answered, quieter still. The boy turned from him, grappling, Hermione guessed. Finally, he nodded, and they said nothing more to one another. She looked to Draco.

"They're weeding us out," she said.

"The wizards?"

"The room… with the children… how old were you when you did your first accidental spell?" Draco's eyes were on the door. She searched her mind. "Five? Six at the most? I've heard of babies as well… brought on by an emotional reaction… pain… or fear. Harry's daughter does simple magic without even trying."

"Bastards deserve to die," he muttered. She swallowed. Had she made a mistake? She realized with a heavy heart that if they died here, it wouldn't be just the three of them she'd sacrificed… it would essentially be every other witch or wizard these men ever came in contact with… no one was looking for them… no one knew they existed. She'd told no one about the meat of this mission. She and Draco alone had been summoned. Would more come? Would the Kings upon The Mountain call for aid again? She didn't know… and the sheer power of the number of people who depended upon each decision she made was dizzying.

A noise sounded, akin to the belch of a foghorn. She screamed, covered her ears, as did many. Then, water came down from the ceiling, hard and fast. At first, it was nice, to be drenched in something more than sweat. But the force of the water was extreme, and she found it entering her eyes, nose and lungs without much effort. She sputtered, and pushed her cloth down over her eyes to close the hole in her robes. The whirring of electricity caught her attention, and she peered out from under the hood. The slots in the walls opened, and something like the filtration system in a refrigeration unit was inside. The whole room began to shake. People were screaming, battering the walls looking for a way to get out. The water was pooling around their ankles. Draco shielded Hermione as a man ran past them, lunging himself at the wall to no avail. He crashed to the ground and didn't get up. People were forming a mass in the center, trying to work together in their panic, a testament to their very character.

"Climb up!" she heard someone yell to her. The burliest were on the bottom, lifting the smaller women as the water around their ankles rose. She shivered as the temperature rapidly dropped around her. A slender girl no more than 13 trembled in the corner. She appeared to be by herself. Hermione ran from the human pyramid, toward the girl.

"Hermione!" Draco shouted after her. She grabbed the young girl by the wrist and pulled her back toward the center. She forced her into the mass of people.

"You'll be warmer!" she shouted above the noise. The girl just stared at her, blue lipped and shaking. "I know you can't understand me… just try to read my body language!" she shouted, pushing her into the huddle. It was shocking how quickly the temperature was falling. From 98 to 70, to 50, to 35. She was losing feeling in her fingers as the large fan above her head shook and sputtered into life. The power of it was raging. Robes blew off the people around her, off their heads, down their necks. People were coughing, screaming, holding on for dear life. She bowed her head into the middle of the people.

"Hang on!" she shouted to the girl, her eyes clenched and her teeth gritted. She watched as the girl's mouth opened and a long, shrill scream tumbled out. The ceiling fan above them sparked and more screams rang out. More sparks as it wound down to a halt. The temperature plateaued at what she guessed was a meager 10 degrees. Her teeth chattered and her knees were knocking as the people hesitantly began to separate from one another. The refrigeration unit was kicking back into the slits in the walls, and the two large lights above their heads had come on… heat lamps, she realized, looking up. She watched as Draco spit a mouthful of water toward the wall. He kicked it, looking up.

"Bloody bastards," he said, between coughs. He reunited with her and pulled her to the wall, but her eyes were on the girl. She was still shaking, looking around between faces, her bottom lip under her front teeth. The doors opened and a team of armed guards streamed in, headed directly for the girl. They surrounded her, a contraption in their hands. A clamp was placed around her neck and one around each wrists. A long pole came off the neck, held tightly by a man leading the rest of the guards. They pulled her away screaming and Hermione felt her heart break for the girl.

"It's a test," she whispered. "It's… all just a test." Draco said nothing. Hermione sniffled as her body shook, adjusting to the rapid rise in temperature. The belch of noise occurred once more and everyone stood. Guards entered, this time falling to each side of the room.

"Line up! Men, left! Women, right!" Hermione and Draco exchanged looks. They both quickly fell to the left. In the struggle, there wasn't any examination. She watched as families were torn apart. She heard mothers asking about their children in the next room. She heard the backs of hands colliding with soft and hard flesh. She shut her eyes. She was gone… she was anywhere but here… she had to hold out… be strong. She could still send word to Harry, she reminded herself… if things got bad… telepathically… if they found her out and there was no sense in refraining from magicks… she could still call… let him know they needed reinforcements. She didn't want to do that… but she may have to, before the end.

"Why didn't she fight?" Draco asked her as the guards busied themselves with organization. Hermione snapped back to present.

"What?"

"She was one of us… why… why didn't she fight them off? She didn't even try…."

Hermione stared at the center of the room where the girl had just stood. She gazed at the empty space, the hooded figures around her, tasted the fear in the air, smelled the desperation… the control… she blinked at the back of Draco's head.

"Because she didn't know," she said quietly, realizing it only as she spoke. "She didn't know she was one of us… no one ever told her… these people… they're all Muggleborn…" her stomach clenched around the knowledge, her windpipe tight with anxiety. "There are no wizard families left."

Draco's life had taken a 180 degree turn from seven years ago… he was chained to the wall by his neck, small metal bracelets around both wrists, and Hermione was beside him. He'd been removed of the hood for his head, as had Hermione, and not a second went by that he wasn't grateful for the under-hood makeups she'd done on them both. She looked like a scrawny, fourteen-year-old boy, and he just a passing traveler of the Muslim faith; harmless, and scared… and since, as Hermione had pointed out, there seemed not to be any more Wizarding families left in this part of the world, looking like he belonged was important. The language barrier was the one thing they could do nothing about… they'd yet to be questioned… he was hoping it wasn't going to come to that… or to full-body checks. So far they had no reason to suspect Hermione a woman… not to mention the vulnerable life growing inside of her. He knew she didn't want him to resort to magic, but… if they were planning to elicit reactions from them based on emotional manipulation, he may not have a choice where she was concerned….

He watched, and listened, as women were being used in the next room to force the men on this side to react in unspeakable ways. He'd seen more than one man led away in chains, thus far… only two had been let go… and as the door opened, he could see separated wives being led away instead on the other side. He expected that soon the torture would begin for them, as well. For the first time in his life, he hoped he would be first.

"Hermione, when they come for us—"

"Shhhhh…"

"I mean, it, when it's our turn—"

"We're not here, Draco," she said, softly. He blinked at her. He watched as a cloudy tear ran down her face, stained with dirt and oil and sweat. "We're walking down a foggy, London street… drinking hot chocolate… we're back in Homemade drinking Butterbeers with friends… we're… alone together, in France." Her eyes closed, and he watched her bottom lip tremble, but stubborn as she was, he knew she would not let herself down. "We're not here," she repeated, firmly.

He moved to squeeze her hand, but the binds on him prevented it. He wanted to scream, to lash out and attack these men. He wasn't an untrained buffoon like the rest of these poor saps. He would do some serious damage, if he had a mind to… how much before they caught him, he had no idea… and it was true that he hadn't seen any sign of magical force from anyone since they'd all been placed in these restraints. He wouldn't be surprised if something in them prevented it, or picked up on the magic before it could hit its target, but he had no idea what that might be.

Our only weapon is our training… don't blow it, now. Wait for the perfect opportunity… he heard her. He licked his lips.

Surely, you can call Potter—

It takes much stronger magic to speak telepathically over long distances, Draco… you're right beside me… and even if you weren't, we're connected. Our energies have been mixed. You're a part of me. Harry's not. I can't take the chance….

He sighed, letting his head roll back and hit the wall. He closed his eyes.

I can't see this ending well.

She didn't answer. She wasn't here, he remembered… neither of them were here, at all.

The first thing she noticed was that none of the children were here… she'd seen the little boy taken away, yet he was not in this room… was he in an isolation room? Could they be torturing that brave little boy somewhere else? She wasn't sure… but it stuck out like a sore thumb.

Then, as more were taken away, she realized there was more… a final level of this place that was unexplored… but she was absolutely certain that if led down there by force, they would never come back out on their own. It was in the middle of this dilemma that she found herself when the guards began to torture the men.

They started along the far edge of the wall, with fire and stones. She shielded herself, mentally… she was away from this place, squeezing Draco's hand, swimming in a bright pool… warm with morning dew on her face on a summer morning, basking in the grass… a picnic… the first snowfall of the year at Hogwarts… Harry's house on a Sunday night… his daughter's laugh… the way her boy and his new baby would play some years from now… her boy, she repeated to herself, eyes closed, picturing the quiet, smart little boy from her dreams. He was in there… he was fighting for them both. Her eyes popped open.

The manacles and neck ring around her were crippling any magic those areas might omit—this, she knew… but that wasn't where the epicenter of her magic was. Most of her powerful magical cells were pooling in the direct center of her… something these men would have no way of knowing… because they didn't know her uterus even existed.

Her heart began to thump rhythmically faster as her mind spun an idea 'round and 'round… Draco had said he'd communicated with it. Could it be possible? She had to try.

She focused her energy on that most intimate part of her, weaving in and out of her subconscious to try and pinpoint the cluster of muscles and tissue within that controlled the rapid growth that took every ounce of herself into it. She took several deep breaths, imagining her head, weightless… her neck… her shoulders, ribs and stomach… her legs… ankles… feet….

Are you in there? she asked, quietly. She couldn't hear anything… but she felt a warm shudder within. She felt her lips pull up, gently. Her heart warmed, in turn.

I need your help… I know how strong you are… how smart… I need you to hold my hands, and help me get us out of this…

She didn't feel any different, at first… she licked her lips, rolled her neck, thought she'd try again.

I need your help—

Flames licking her ankles stirred her out of her trance. She sucked in a deep breath, attempting to pull away. When had they gotten so close to her? She struggled, moved to pull away, watched in horror as Draco pulled desperately at the wall to get to her… and finally, her head fell back and she cried out in pain.

That's when she felt it, rushing through her like a tidal wave, down both legs and up her torso… rushing for her mouth, her feet, her hands… it exploded around her in a field of blinding light. She couldn't see. She was screaming, but she couldn't hear… couldn't feel. She heard rushed voices around her as the men ducked away. The binds on her arms and neck snapped, and Draco's fell away. She was levitating. Looking down she saw them, pooling in the center to catch her. She looked to Draco and he rose to meet her in midair.

"Blimey, what the HELL are you—"

"It's not me," she shouted. He looked down at her belly in confusion and wonder. The room shook. The shackles melted away, off each and every man in the room. Those who weren't too weak to stand rose up. Hermione looked down in excitement.

"If any of you have ever felt your body was acting out of your control… if sometimes things happen that you can't explain… focus all your pain and anger on those men! Help me get you out of here! For once… let them KNOW how you feel!" she shouted. The freed prisoners looked between each other briefly, as if they'd understood her… and she knew on some level, they had. The guards moved to gather the freed men, but now they were fighting back, and flames began to lick the corner of the room… the tortured had turned to face the torturers.

As the room fell to chaos, she and Draco were lowered down. She grabbed his arm and they ran out of the room and down the hall. Lights were blinking and alarms were going off, but she didn't care. She made a run for it.

"Where are you going?" she heard Draco cry. "The door is this way!"

"We're not done yet!" she yelled. She raced down the hallway and came to a winding spiral staircase. They ran, bolted through a set of double doors and the blinking alarms grew quiet… this was another ward, entirely. They breathed together for just a moment and then resumed walking down the hallway. They passed doors, names scribbled in handwriting on the outside, some scribbled out as if to indicate the patient was gone… or dead. She reached for a handle… locked. They moved together down the hallway looking for some indication of a resolution… what was going on down here? What was their end game? How was it being done?

"Here!" she heard Draco cry. He'd stopped outside a door, his hands balling into fists. She walked back to him and stared at the door, her vision locked onto the target, where all names were scribbled out but one:

Malfoy.

She looked at him, and they locked eyes. She reached for his hand and held it onto the doorknob under hers. She wondered if the strength of three would be enough to cast a wand-bearing spell, wandless.

"Alohamora!" they shouted. The doorknob came off in her hands. She thanked the stars as they rushed inside.

Draco Malfoy gazed down at his estranged uncle… lying there on the twin cot, no blankets, and no sign of life but the steady rise and fall of his chest… shallow breaths in… long breaths out.

"They called him a Malfoy," he uttered under his breath. Hermione was already moving toward him. One hand flat on his uncle's chest, she was shaking him, checking for life. She rolled her hand into a first and dragged it along his chest chestbone. She was shouting his name… Draco barely heard her… or the surging alarm blares that were piercing the air down here now, as well.

"Rory!" she was shouting. She motioned for Draco to help her lift him, but he was stuck. One solitary gasp shook him to his core and he watched his uncle's eyes open, blinking, searching the room. They landed on Hermione. Draco shook off his shock and rushed forward.

"Uncle!" he whispered. He cradled his head as Hermione peered into his face.

"What have they done to you?" she asked, searching his mind, his eyes… his body, for scars he guessed. He saw none—none that hadn't long healed.

"I'm a thief…" he heard him answer in a hoarse, croak of a voice.

"What?" Draco asked, brow furrowed, holding the man by the torso now as Hermione continued her physical analysis.

"We took it, we all took it… we don't deserve his love…".

"He's mad," Draco said to Hermione. He was hoisting the man up, now. She shook her head.

"We're not going to get anything from him, here. We need to get him home with us, now."

He lifted his uncle, shrunken and starved, nearly a shadow of the man he once was. He braced himself on his bent knees and laid the man on his shoulders. He lifted him easily and nodded to Hermione.

"Let's go, then," he said. She darted out of the room.

They raced to the stairway they had descended from, but she stopped, hard.

"No good," she said to him as two guards ran down the length of it. She turned on her heel and ran back in the opposite direction.

"It's the only way out!" he answered. She shook her head.

"It's never the only way out!" she called.

She came to the edge of the wall, braced herself, and kicked, hard. The false wall fell away and dust clouded the air.

"This way!" she yelled. He followed her in awe. The entire dome had fallen into chaos. Prisoners were running free… those who had gotten loose were calling to those in line to make a run for it… the wounded were crawling on the ground, and shots were ringing across the room. The heat of one grazed his ear, and he gasped, nearly running into a prisoner as a guard flagged him down. One shouted to another as he spotted Hermione. His heart was racing.

"Go!" he shouted to her and her pace quickened. Up the stairs they ran, and came upon the open, domed floor they had originally stepped into.

"Almost there!" she yelled back to him. The guards were quickly attempting to close the doors around him. She ducked and pulled Draco down with her as the heavy, chained door nearly missed his ankles.

"Come on!" she yelled. A backpack whizzed over her head from a confiscated pile. She caught it and held it tight to her chest, mumbling something he couldn't quite hear.

"What are you doing?" he called.

"Making a portkey!" she answered. He quickened his pace, though his legs were on fire and he could barely catch his breath. Merlin, they were almost out.

And then, ice sucked the wind from his chest, and the fire in his legs jumped up to his shoulder.

She heard him fall before she saw it. She sucked in a breath and ran back to him as swarms of people threatened to trample them both and bullets soared through the air. She saw the blood and her throat closed for a moment. She pulled Rory to his feet, and forced him to lean on her weight. Then, she pulled Draco to his feet.

"Come on! You can do it! We just have to get outside! This place… there's a magical force field around it… nothing in or out. They must know about Apparation."

He groaned, struggling to walk on the injury, and they darted forward. Close… they were so close now.

The sun kissed her forehead as she pulled the men toward her. She stepped into the sunlight and tossed the backpack in the air.

"On my count, guys… we reach for the portkey!"

With Rory's hand in hers, the backpack tumbled closer and closer to her outstretched fingertips.

The force of Draco being ripped away from her sent her mind reeling as the backpack entered her and Rory's open hands. As her fingers reflexively closed around it, she watched as six armed men pulled Draco back inside the dome, back underneath the blanket of anti-magical energy. She heard the scream that left her mouth as if someone else had shrieked in some other room… in some other place….

She wasn't here….

The hook caught her under her navel and pulled her and Rory up, up, and up, together, pulling them away from the domed torture chamber and toward The Ministry of Defense… away from the suffering… away from the man she loved.