Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, these people aren't mine

Liberation

Chapter 4

11 pm

Hermione lay down on the cold stone floor shivering for hours. The savages had left her a clean bowl of water to wash herself with, but it did not go far, and disappeared the moment it emptied. Later they dumped off a sandwich and a plastic pitcher of more water. She was in a considerable amount of pain, but she did not feel sorry for herself yet, she only felt angry. She was a raging storm of tumult. But she did not feel pity. She was not the first person to have something like this happen to her and she wouldn't be the last. She may have been ravished in the most brutal of ways, but her virtue would be strengthened by it. If she got out of the situation alive, that is. She had been there for quite some time and they still hadn't killed her, only serving to confuse and anger her more.

The next morning was supposed to be the day she would earn her freedom, but it was not going to happen. Even with the extremely unlikely release of Lucius, Dolohov said that Hermione was never going anywhere. Leaving and moving on with her life knowing that she'd been brutally raped was a far more pleasant prospective than living in a cold stone room indefinitely. She would rather die sooner than later if that was the only direction her future was to go. She could live with the memory of what happened to her, but she could not continue to live with it as a constant reality.

After the room had completely darkened, Hermione finally got up to wash herself, drink some water, and eat her sandwich. She damned herself for not having a natural inclination to be suicidal, because if she was, then perhaps she would purposefully weaken herself to make death come sooner. But she just couldn't do it, they would have to kill her and she would not make it easy for them. After Hermione finished her meal and the empty dishes disappeared, she wrapped herself in her dress for warmth and curled back up on the floor. She was physically exhausted, and her body needed a rest very badly if it was to heal it at all. Her mind needed the respite even more desperately, but she feared it would never come, not even in her sleep.

Just as Hermione's thoughts finally began to swirl together just as they always did before sleep, she was awoken by the sound of the ever mysteriously appearing door being thrown open and into the wall. She quickly stood back up and retreated into the dark shadows below the one lone window.

"Get in there and stop your bellyaching! Company for you, Mudblood!" She heard Goyle saying as he unceremoniously tossed someone into the room.

Hermione could not tell from the light and her distance any details about that person, but it was clear that he or she was very weak by the way they crumpled to the floor.

"Please, don't leave me here. I have done nothing to hurt you," a male voice said haltingly, his voice wavering.

Goyle guffawed loudly as he kicked the man and Hermione heard a bone break with a sickening crack. "You're a Muggle, and that's all it takes. Don't worry; we'll be back for you later."

As soon as Hermione heard the door slam shut, she approached the man slowly. When he heard her approaching, he quickly started shuffling away from her, scooting on his backside.

"Stop right there," he said with as much vigour as he could muster, which was very little.

Hermione almost laughed manically. As if he could stop anyone in his current state, but of course, she did not want to hurt him, so she continued to approach him. He was backing into the narrow strip of moonlight that was streaming across the room, and just before he moved his face into the beam's faint glow, she stopped. That man was as good as dead, most likely he would die long before she would, and she found that she did not have enough strength left in her to get to know the face of another condemned man. She slowly backed away from him and curled back up in her corner without saying a word. But instead of trying to sleep again, she passed the night away listening to the man gasp for air, cry, and occasionally moan out in pain. After a couple of hours she had to press her palms against her ears, for fear that his pain would drive her to the brink.

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3 am

Draco lay in bed staring at the small fissures that crisscrossed his ceiling. The last time he'd spent hours awake in bed staring at them was when he was a student during the war. He could never sleep then, and in the three days since Hermione's disappearance he hadn't been able to sleep again. The same tension that he felt every time he had to face a Death-Eater had returned with all its previous vigour, but without the same trembling fear. This time he was going to fight and finally prove, once and for all, that he really had changed. Society had accepted him, especially after he publicly denounced his father's beliefs, but Draco was not satisfied with the role he played in the war. Draco had done nothing more than verbalise his intentions to leave the ranks of Voldemort's followers, he did not fight when he should have instead choosing to hide, and he was disgusted with his cowardice.

Next to him, Eliza sighed softly in her sleep before moving to snuggle against Draco. He deftly shifted position so that she settled deeper into the mattress instead, and watched her carefully until her breathing evened once more. She was quite upset with him for leaving before she woke the day after the benefit, and they had argued briefly over it. It was their first argument. In fact, it was the first argument he'd had with any woman that didn't end in the immediate termination of their relationship. He was extremely distasteful of arguing with people whether he was right or wrong and when he said he didn't want to argue anymore, he usually meant it.

However, Eliza was a nice person. She was not as vapid as the women he usually dated, and since she was studying magical history, her knowledge was useful in his hunt for historical artefacts. They had a lot in common, and Draco was sensible enough to realise that he couldn't womanise forever. Draco slid from the bed and stood over her, staring down at her regretfully. He finally found someone he could imagine some sort of future with and he was lying to her already. He couldn't possibly tell her that in a few short hours he would be entering what could be a very deadly trap. As far as she knew he was leaving for a few days to search the Pyramids for the Golden Ankh that King Tutankhamen was buried with. It was supposed to be imbued with the magic that the young King once possessed, and was a very dark artefact. But Draco didn't have any nefarious intent; he just wanted to see if the legends surrounding it were true. He shook the thoughts from his mind. He would think about the search for the artefact later.

Once again, Eliza would wake up alone, and Draco found himself wishing he could stay and wake up with her. He really couldn't determine if that was actually true, or if he was only thinking it because he knew he wouldn't have to actually make the choice.

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5 am

Harry sat in his office carefully cataloguing everything they would need for their visit to Stonehenge. It was hardly ironic that they chose that place, seeing as how everyone knew that it had a magical history. Harry was surprised that they chose the hour they did. It was not uncommon to see visitors at the monument at that hour, albeit not many of them. They were taking every precaution though, and he had already placed temporary Muggle repelling charms around the area. He had gone under his Invisibility cloak and was disappointed to find that nobody was lurking around. He was itching for a battle and would have taken on anyone, alone or not.

Harry carefully activated the charm on the large flask that contained the Polyjuice Potion, setting it to activate as a Portkey exactly three days and two hours from that moment. Harry could not help but notice that everything seemed to be occurring in three-day increments. If it was necessary for Draco to actually use the flask for the whole three days, Harry prayed that he would be able to do so without getting caught. Next, Harry sent a few messages on the coins they were going to communicate with in order to test the Protean charm on them. Harry flipped one of the large galleons in his hand a few times, thinking with longing of Hermione and the days when she'd actually charmed the coins he held in his hand. Harry had adjusted them to display full messages rather than just dates and times but the concept was still the same. No interfering Death Eater, or whoever they were, would be surprised to see a few galleons in Lucius Malfoy's pocket.

The last item that Harry set out for Draco was his father's staff. The guards at Azkaban had taken it away from him when he was first arrested, and Harry was surprised to learn that neither Draco nor Narcissa Malfoy had gone to retrieve any of Lucius' belongings. Nobody knew that of course, so they all hoped that the staff would lend credibility to Draco's disguise.

Harry placed all the items in a neat row on his desk and then sat behind it to look at his picture of Hermione. His gut instincts told him that they were not going to be able to fight that day, and that Draco was going to have to take the Portkey they were going to leave for him. He had an almost intolerable sense of foreboding that the day was going to go horribly wrong, and it was killing him that he did not if it was Draco or Hermione that was going to suffer the most. They had no backup plan if Draco disappeared and the kidnapper's plan was to kill him. It was a risk Draco was willing to take, and Harry could not express his gratitude enough. He shifted his gaze to the items arranged neatly in front of him and shook his head. There were too few things there, and too few people involved. The plan was so simple that Harry doubted it could possibly work, but it was all they had.

It wasn't until Harry saw a tear splash on Hermione's face in the picture frame that he realised he was crying. He loved that woman with all his heart and he would give anything to have her back. Draco knew that as well, and Harry wondered if their doppelganger resented them for thinking him dispensable. Harry really didn't want to possibly trade one life for another, but someone had to enter the fray and Draco was the viable candidate. He was not reluctant and Harry appreciated that, but he knew that if anything happened to Draco and Hermione was fine, the guilt would eat at his conscience forever. Harry shook his head sadly and amended his last thought. Guilt would eat at his conscience if Draco got hurt, regardless of what happened to Hermione.

The sound of shoes beating the floor in the hallway alerted Harry to the fact that he was at work, and not alone. He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and gathered his notes, effectively distancing his emotions from the situation. He must be professional; it would not do to let his heart override his head. He learnt that lesson the hard way when Sirius died.

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The sky overhead was a bubblegum pink and Hermione's ears were filled the sound of children's laughter. Little blue rabbits were scampering in wide circles around a carousel that had live Hippogriffs, Thestrals, and Unicorns instead of horses. In the centre of the carousel a small army of house elves were running in giant hamster wheels, making the carousel turn. Hermione clapped delightedly along with all the invisible children around her as the bubblegum pink sky opened up and began raining candy. She continued to laugh until someone came up behind her and pulled her hair.

Hermione jerked awake from her dream and instinctively placed a hand on the back of her head. Dolohov was dangling a large chunk of her hair from his dirty fingertips in front of her face.

"Wakey, wakey, Princess," he purred, his one visible eye glinting malevolently in the pale light of dawn filtering through the window. "Thanks for the hair."

Hermione stood up as quickly as she could and pressed her back up against the wall. The man they had dumped in the room earlier was backed up against the wall opposite her, although he was still too weak to stand. Hermione didn't want to see his face, but she couldn't help but look straight in front of her. He was covered in bruises and blood to the point Hermione could not make out an approximate age or even his hair colour. She quickly looked away as Goyle grabbed the man and dragged him to the centre of the room.

Dolohov placed a large goblet of a gelatinous green potion on the small table in the middle of the room. Hermione recognised it immediately as Polyjuice Potion and instantly knew why they wanted her hair. They were going to dose the man with Polyjuice and dump him off at Stonehenge instead of her. Hermione let out an involuntary moue of disappointment, but quickly shut her mouth and pressed herself against the wall even harder, as if it would make her invisible, or better yet, she would pass right through it.

Goyle laughed like a loon as Dolohov slowly walked up to Hermione and peered into her eyes. She managed to will herself to meet his gaze and in the end he looked away first so that he could evaluate her body. He reached out a grimy hand and traced Hermione's jaw and lips with his thumb.

"You didn't honestly think we were going to let you go, did you?" he said mockingly. "We have plans for you. Our friend will no doubt be in the mood for a treat when he gets here. It has been an awful long time for him, after all. But you won't do in this state, will you?"

Dolohov tugged unceremoniously on the shoulder strap of Hermione's torn and dirty gown. After a few Scourgifying charms, Dolohov stepped back to observe his handiwork.

"It's not great, but at least your skin is clean now, even if your blood is not," he commented offhandedly before turning to Goyle and the little man. "Bring him here, Gregory."

Goyle dragged the man forward, ignoring his cries of protest.

"Are you going to poison me?" he screamed.

Dolohov chuckled at the man indulgingly. "No, I'm not going to poison you."

He placed the hair in the potion and Hermione couldn't help but look to see what colour it turned. It turned a light turquoise, and she filed that useless bit of information into the recesses of her mind. Goyle silenced the now hysterical man with his wand, and forced a few swallows of the potion down his throat. The man's face twisted grotesquely in a silent scream as he transformed into Hermione. After a moment, the transformation was complete and the man closed his mouth in confusion as the the pain of the conversion stopped. He looked down at his body and immediately began to silently scream again.

Hermione took a few steps forward, transfixed with the transmogrification. Goyle and Dolohov weren't paying her any attention at all as she walked ever closer to see her own body lying on the floor.

"You see, Muggle filth, I said I wasn't going to poison you," Dolohov pointed his wand at the Muggle's face. "But I am going to kill you. Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione clamped her teeth down on her tongue to keep from screaming as she watched the man in her body crumple to the ground. The Polyjuice would not be able to wear off as long as he was dead and unable to metabolise it, so whoever found her body would think she was dead for sure. Any fleeting hope she had of rescue fled her mind permanently as the bitter reality of her fate settled even deeper into her core. Tears burned behind her eyes as Goyle stripped the clothes off the man, leaving him naked.

"Good idea, Goyle. It adds a nice element of drama to dump her body off naked," he then turned to Hermione, "Maybe your lover Potter will enjoy seeing you even more now."

The tears spilled over, but Hermione still faced Dolohov. "Your stupid plan will never work. They will never release Lucius, and I would rather die than see you get what you want."

"Take him, Goyle," Dolohov ordered, sending him out the door directly next to Hermione. She nearly stamped her foot in frustration at that damnable charmed door.

Dolohov approached Hermione for the third time that morning and hovered over her, stroking a hand over her hair. "You really do underestimate your worth to the Wizarding Community don't you? Potter wants you back, and we all know that what Potter wants, he gets. If my stupid little plan, as you so delicately put it, doesn't work, I have other options. Now shut up and be a good girl. I am expecting company very shortly."

Dolohov left the room this time using the door right below the window, which should lead him right outside, but Hermione had no doubt it led to a hallway or another room. When the door snapped shut behind Dolohov, she actually ran to the door and pressed her fingers against the seal as it disappeared right before her eyes, leaving the grainy surface of the wall unmarred by any sign of a door frame. The strength and resolve that had kept Hermione sane slipped a little as she crashed to the floor and mourned for the man who'd just been murdered, and for herself.

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7am

Harry, Ron, Dawlish, and Proudfoot all hid behind the various stones at Stonehenge, either Disillusioned or underneath Invisibility cloaks. 'Lucius' stood about ten feet from the centre of the stones waiting for the moment Hermione would arrive, not that he really expected her to arrive. When the crack of arrival did sound in the middle of the ring at exactly seven, he was so shocked he actually jumped. Lying on the ground in front of him was Hermione, naked and still. As he watched, a small black stone, barely visible if he'd been standing any further away, toppled out of her slack hand.

Draco could hear the gravel crunching behind him as Harry and his associates stepped out from behind the stones to see Hermione. Draco raised a hand to still the Aurors' approach as he slowly approached the body. His heart stilled when he looked down and saw her mouth agape and her eyes open and lifeless, staring at nothing. Draco grimaced as he bent over to pick up the little stone trying not to touch the cold hand lying beside it. He rose slowly when nothing immediately happened, and turned around in the direction of the Aurors with a questioning look on his face.

"Nothing's happening. What sh—' Draco's statement was immediately cut off as the tug of Portkey travel gripped him behind the navel. The full gravity of his situation hit him as he slipped through space to his destination. He closed his eyes just before he landed and stumbled to the ground. He could feel a cold stone floor underneath his feet and around him he could hear a gasp of astonishment and pleasure at his arrival. Draco kept his eyes closed and quickly coached himself on proper 'Lucius' behaviour before rising regally to face his host.

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7:02 am

Harry ripped off his invisibility cloak and threw it on the ground as he ran to Hermione. He didn't even need to feel for a pulse in her neck to know she was dead but he did so anyway. He ripped off his heavy wool robe and wrapped it around her body before pulling her onto his lap and burying his face in her hair. Ron had dropped to his knees before Hermione, his face red with rage and anguish as he held onto her lifeless hand, but Ron said nothing. Harry rocked back and forth for a full minute, his heart pounding in his ears.

The agony of his loss was coursing through him and his stomach rolled over several times until he couldn't take it anymore. He gently, but quickly, placed Hermione's body back on the ground before crawling a few feet away to vomit violently. Rage coursed through his blood and his pulse throbbed as if to make up for the lack of pulse in the body lying at his feet. Harry sat there with his elbows on his knees and his gripping his hair, pulling it.

"Harry," Ron said putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, we have to get out of here."

Harry looked at Ron and nodded tears streaming down his face. Harry prayed to whatever deities above and below that were listening that he had the opportunity to kill whomever it was that killed Hermione. Their only hope now was Draco and their flimsy plan at locating the kidnappers. Harry opened his mouth to respond to Ron but found that his voice would not work. Instead, he gave him a curt nod and reached for Hermione's hand so he could Apparate with her to St. Mungo's. He was going to have to tell her parents, but it was going to have to wait for a little while. Ron stopped Harry before he could take her away.

"Where are you taking her?" he asked.

Dawlish walked up and answered for him. "To St. Mungo's, I imagine. Harry, perhaps you should wait a moment so that I can go alert the hospital of your arrival. This is going to cause a riot, so I need to make arrangements to keep things discreet."

Harry mentally slapped himself for not thinking of that first. He was distraught, but he was still an Auror and he needed to keep his head on straight. He finally found his voice.

"You're right. I will take her to her flat while I await your word. Goren, will you please release the Muggle repelling charms as soon as we're gone?"

Harry's associate nodded solemnly as he handed Harry his dropped Invisibility cloak.

"I'll go with you, mate," Ron said, and Apparated right behind Harry to Hermione's London flat.

Harry laid Hermione's body on the ground and went to her bedroom to find her some clothes. Harry's disgust with Hermione's killers grew even stronger as he imagined them stripping away her clothes. It was if they stripped away Hermione's dignity apparently as easily as they did her life. When Harry returned with her clothes he discovered Ron examining her nude form closely.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded.

Ron looked up at Harry and scowled, "I'm investigating for signs of injury. There appear to be none, which means that maybe she wasn't tortured before she was, er, before they…" Ron couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Small comfort," Harry deadpanned.

Harry carefully dressed Hermione without magic and then sat back and stared at her. He couldn't believe it was Hermione, it didn't feel like Hermione at all, not that he could imagine how a dead body could still feel like the person they used to be. It felt like hours had passed since Draco had disappeared and Harry kept looking at his watch. At exactly 7:25 the coin in his pocket heated.

Harry jumped up quickly and dug the coin out of his pocket to read the messages as the words appeared. The letters rearranging themselves every twenty seconds or so to form new words, and the message replayed three times before stopping altogether.

Hermione is alive.

Body is polyjuiced muggle.

Don't know where I am.

Will send more soon.

Harry read the message out loud to Ron as it displayed on the coin. Hope blossomed in his chest and radiated throughout his body.

"Ron. Go find Dawlish and stop him. If he has told anyone anything, have them Obliviated. What do you think we should do with the body?" Harry asked easily, detaching himself the body on the floor since he knew now it really wasn't his friend. For a cursory moment Harry acknowledged how quickly he was able to pigeonhole the body into the 'faceless Muggle' category, but pushed the thought aside. He could feel guilty about that later, for in the moment he was too pleased to know it was not Hermione after all.

Ron shrugged a little surprised at how easily Harry cast aside the person in Hermione's body. His friend was usually not so callous. "Unless we can find someone who knows how to make a dead body metabolise Polyjuice, there is no way to identify it. The best thing to do would be to turn it over to the Muggle authorities, though. This person might have a family looking for him, or her."

"You're right. I'll take it to the Department of Mysteries to see what the Unspeakables can do. It will be out of our hands then," Harry kept glancing at the coin, waiting for more news from Draco. "Let's go."

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"Lucius, is that really you?" Dolohov asked as he peered into Draco's face.

Draco looked down his nose at Dolohov disgustedly. "Of course it is me! I see that freedom has not taught you how to bathe properly."

Draco took an exaggerated step backwards. Dolohov's personal hygiene was always a bone of contention for the elder Malfoy, but the man proved useful otherwise.

"Perhaps you should attempt to identify me through means other than breathing into my face," Draco said snidely.

Dolohov considered him shrewdly, wholly unfazed by the comment on his hygiene, or lack thereof. "What was the last thing I said to you, the last time I saw you?"

Draco considered the question, racking his brain for the memory. He'd asked his father what the last words he heard from every Death Eater known to be still living right before Lucius' arrest. Nothing was coming immediately to mind and Draco was beginning to panic because he knew he was pausing too long. He quickly replayed every detail of the first day he spent in his father's cell from the moment he woke up to… and then the signature of the letters he read flashed through his mind triggering the right memory.

"You said, 'wait patiently, my friend, Putus Cruor Confuto will reign and you will be free again.'"

"Lucius, my friend, it is you," Dolohov said eagerly, bending down at Draco's feet. "I knew Potter would follow through."

Draco took a moment to look around him, avoiding Dolohov's gaze. The man spoke as if he was rational, but he was completely deluded for thinking the release of Lucius would ever happen, no matter how important the Hermione was to the Wizarding World. For a few moments Draco feigned disinterest in his expression, but he was really observing the room as closely as he could to see if he recognised anything at all. The room was lavishly furnished with a fire roaring. There was a table full of food along one windowless wall. The other wall had long brocade curtains of a deep burgundy hanging over its large windows. Wall sconces and a large candle chandelier provided the majority of light in the room.

"I see you delivered the girl to Potter," Draco said sarcastically, trying to make conversation as he observed the room. Draco casually walked up to the window and pulled back the curtain. Looking down, he could see that they were in a small castle of some sort. Based on his view, they were near a coastline; for he could see water churning against cliffs just off in the distance. That wasn't going to help him; there were lots of old castles along coastlines in many countries. As far as he knew, the castle would appear as a ruins to anyone else.

"I will require a wand, Dolohov. The Ministry broke mine, and of course, did not trust me with another one." Draco's wand was actually tucked up his sleeve.

"Of course, the fools. Although they were probably right, I presume," Dolohov said, as a door off to his right opened and another man walked through. Draco fought to maintain his mask of indifference as he saw his old childhood friend walk through the door.

Draco had not heard from Goyle at all since he last saw him outside the Room of the Requirement on the day of the Final Battle. Years of hiding had done nothing to whittle away at his frame, for he was as large and menacing as ever. But he had an evil glint in his eyes that frightened Draco considerably.

"Mr. Malfoy, it is an honour to see you again," Greg said in a surprisingly cordial tone.

"And you Gregory, it is a shame my son did not stay in contact with you," Draco almost gagged on his words. It had been years since he'd really lied at all, and now he was not only telling aspersions, but the sort that would surely damn him to hell.

Goyle gestured toward the room he'd just vacated. "We have a little treat for you in there. It's the Granger girl. We saved her for you because we figured you might have needs after being in prison for so long, and you always said that she would be a fun one. You can do it before the others start arriving."

Draco inwardly cringed at his father's old rapacious attitude, but he was stunned to hear Hermione was alive. There was still hope of saving her and arresting some of the people on the Ministry's most wanted list.

"I think I might like her now, but I want to see my quarters first. Bring her to me there. And I will need a wand for it as well," Draco demanded.

Dolohov nodded as he led Draco up two flights of stairs and down a long corridor with no pictures or decorations whatsoever on the walls. Draco wanted to ask where they were, but too many questions would raise suspicion. Lucius was always one to act as if he had no questions and found the answers using more calculating methods. The room they had reserved for Lucius was the last in the hallway, and it was richly furnished with teakwood furniture. The same heavy brocade curtains that hung downstairs hung in this room as well. The large four-poster bed was clothed in an expensive duvet made up of deep forest green Egyptian cotton. Draco pulled back the curtain to see the view and he discovered that he had a better view of the cliffs and the water.

There was a private bath in the room, and Draco went in there as soon as he was alone to send a quick message on the coin to Potter. He imagined Harry was jumping for joy now that he knew Hermione was still alive, but Draco had yet to see her condition, she could be barely holding on. He would find a way to get her out of there safely. Draco stared at his father's face for several long minutes in the mirror. Lucius' face was shrunken and sallow. His normally large frame was diminished considerably, and Draco's own robes hung loose, even though Draco had always been rather slimmer than his father. Draco knew he favoured his father in physical appearance but he hoped that as he aged his features would resemble his mother's. He hated looking in the mirror at his own eyes because they reminded him too much of Lucius.

Draco sighed heavily and walked away from the mirror, vowing not to look in one again while in his father's form if he could help it. Before he could dwell on it any further, there was a knock on the door.

Dolohov popped his head in, grinning, "A wand for you, and here is your guest. Now get in there and be a good girl."

Dolohov tossed the wand to Draco, who caught it, as was shoving Hermione in the room. "You might want to seal the door on this one. I think she's fancying escape."

"Don't tell me what to do, Dolohov," Draco said, before slamming the door in Dolohov's face and locking and silencing the room with the borrowed wand. He didn't like how it felt in his hand, but it would do for what he needed it for.

Hermione was standing with her back to the door, her eyes wide with bewilderment. Lucius Malfoy was standing before her despite all her expectations. He wasn't looking at her, but when he did, he regarded her with the same kind of astonishment that she beheld him. Hermione blinked in confusion and fear as Lucius turned his gaze on her and took a few steps forward. She took another one of those embarrassing and damnable involuntary steps backward and hit the door.

Draco had to fight to tear his gaze away from her. She was completely battered. There were bruises and cuts all over her, her dress was ripped, and he knew she'd been raped, but they at least cleaned her up. But her eyes were still the same, full of inquisitiveness, and just the right amount of anger and fear. Draco was relieved to see that she was clearly holding onto her sanity despite what she'd been through.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I'm not Lucius, I'm Draco."

"I don't believe you."

"Good. I would think you a simpleton if you did believe me so easily. But nevertheless, I am going to help you."

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A/N: This chapter was betaed by blueskyshymoon so everyone send her some good thoughts. She found tons and tons of punctuation errors and must have the patience of Job to go through my stuff. There are probably still more errors in there. At least I wouldn't be surprised if there was.

Please review, if you have a minute and the inclination.