Disclaimer: I don't make money off of this.
Liberation
Chapter 5
Hermione continued to stare at "Lucius" wearily. To be afraid would have been the appropriate reaction, but all vestiges of fear had left her two days ago, slowly to be replaced by anger. Now she was bewildered as well as angry, and the tumult of emotions was not helping her rationality.
"Help me?" she asked as if she hadn't heard him right.
Draco took a moment to really look at her before speaking. She was covered in bruises and by the way she was standing with her arms wrapped around her ribs, he suspected she had some that were broken. If he remembered anything about Goyle and Dolohov, he imagined she had some other injuries in more private places that were fairly severe. Draco fought to keep his face neutral as he took in the state of her dress. On her right arm, in the crook of her elbow, was a cut that was clearly getting infected. Hermione's face was pale and her expression was grim. Draco always knew Hermione to be a motivated person, full of life and feeling. Her passion for learning and her job was obvious, even though he'd only learned of it through the newspapers. The woman standing before him was battered and torn, and he hoped beyond hope that she would be able to recover from whatever atrocities she'd been through. He'd seen too many people go through what she did, and he wanted her to be the last.
Draco motioned for her to sit, which she refused to do, and pulled the Galleon out of his pocket. He sent Harry another message, mentioning that Hermione was with him. "We don't have a lot of time, Granger. I am going to give you this wand, but not until I have convinced you that I am here to help you."
Hermione had never made it a habit to carry on conversations with Lucius Malfoy, but she imagined if she did talk to him, he wouldn't seem so benevolent and kind. There was something in his eyes that reminded her of his son, and Hermione began to wonder if it really was someone else. She refused to believe that the Ministry would let Lucius Malfoy go. Her eyes widened when he palmed the Galleon that clearly had her version of the Protean charm on it.
"Where did you get that galleon?" Hermione demanded.
"From Potter. I am using it to communicate with him. I just told him that you are okay. Like I said, I'm not Lucius, I'm Draco." He pulled the flask out of his pocket and took a swig. "See, Polyjuice. I'm here because no one else knows my father well enough to pretend to be him as well I do."
Hermione reached for the Polyjuice potion slowly. Draco handed it to her, allowed her to sniff it, and then took it back.
"Well, that is indeed Polyjuice." she said.
"Do you need more proof? Do you want to know what I said to you last? Where we were?"
"No, there's no point in that because you could find all that information from the media."
"Listen, like I said, I don't have a lot of time. I am posing as Lucius in order to capture your kidnappers and to save you. I need to be able to lead Potter and Weasley and the rest of the Aurors here. Do you know where we are?"
"No. They brought me directly into the room I've been in since I got here."
"Good. That means I may be able to Apparate you out of here, but it won't be immediately. I have to meet with some people that I am assuming are old friends of my father's, and I can't raise any alarms. Please sit down." Draco said pointing at the chair in front of him as he sat on the bed.
Hermione walked slowly and sat gingerly. Draco grimaced at Hermione's wince of pain as she sat.
"Besides your obvious injuries, have you been through the Cruciatus?" Draco asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
Hermione shrugged, but nodded the affirmative.
Draco frowned and looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry, I don't have any healing potions, but if you'll allow me, I can heal your other wounds. That cut on your arm looks like it is getting infected."
"You should see the one on my ribs." Hermione replied without thinking. She quickly bit her lip and looked away. It was surreal talking to "Lucius" but not talking to Lucius. It probably was Draco inside and she should ask for more proof of his identity, but if whoever he was, he had plenty of chances to hurt her and it would not be any different than any other day in that hellhole.
Draco pulled out his own wand and pointed it at Hermione's arm. He silently healed the cut, which closed most of the way.
"It will scar," he said.
Hermione stared down at it. Having that one wound healed made her whole arm feel considerably better.
"Maybe you should leave the bruises so they don't get suspicious," she suggested.
For the first time, Draco allowed the ghost of a smile to grace his features. "You're right. How about that one on your ribs, do you feel comfortable letting me see it?"
Hermione nodded and pulled back the rip in her dress so he could see the injury. Draco grimaced as he saw the jagged stab wound. It was definitely infected, and it was a wonder Hermione wasn't racked with a fever. Then again, maybe she was. She was a strong woman, after all, and he'd already seen her stand up under torture once before. Draco attempted to heal that wound but it looked scarcely better.
"I'm sorry; I'm not great at healing."
"Well, I am." Hermione said, holding her hand out for the wand.
"Please ask me something so I can prove I am not Lucius. I am afraid to hand over this wand for fear that you will hex me or try to Apparate, which you can't do just yet. I will get you out of here but I have to find a way to get the others in." Draco said.
Hermione didn't know what to ask. They hadn't spoken much, and she couldn't think of anything that anybody else wouldn't already know.
"How's Eliza?" she asked, unsure of why she chose that question.
Draco looked at his watch. "Right about now she is waking up in my bed, alone, and undoubtedly angry."
Hermione was stunned by what appeared to be blatant honesty. "Oh."
Draco handed the wand over. "Just take it. If you were to do anything to me, I would deserve it."
Hermione didn't know what to say to his self-deprecating comment. She could tell that he took her lack of response as agreement, but didn't bother to correct him. It seemed that Draco was going through some sort of inner conflict that he needed to resolve on his own. She had her own inner conflicts to handle at the moment.
She was fleetingly tempted to try to Apparate away but if this was really Draco, and she believed it was, she wanted to be there to take down the inglorious bastards who'd kidnapped her. After Hermione healed some of her less inconspicuous wounds, she asked Draco if she could use his bathroom to finish up.
"Please don't try to Apparate away," he admonished again. "I have to tell you what is going on, and I have very little time, so do you mind if I talk through the door? I realise it is uncouth, but we must hurry."
Hermione did understand and left the door slightly cracked. Draco leant against the wall facing away from the door and told Hermione the whole story from what happened after her kidnapping to the moment she arrived in his room. Hermione was crying by the time he finished. Poor Harry and what he must be going through. And now there was Draco helping, and she had no idea how she would be able to repay him for coming to save her. Hermione felt something inside of her shift at the thought of him coming to her rescue at risk of his own life. It was as if the place that Draco resided inside her mind moved forward, closer to the forefront.
Hermione wiped her eyes and stepped out of the bathroom. She was weak and tired, but with her ribs healed and her more private areas healed it was much easier for her to walk out of the bathroom with her back straight and head high. Draco immediately saw the difference, and was relieved to see the change in her stature. Her eyes still looked haunted, and he found he was unable to look into them.
"So, that flask you have will turn into a Portkey in three days?" Hermione said, but it was a rhetorical question. "So, at the end of the three days you could give the flask to me, and I could use it to return to Harry with another Portkey that will bring all of them back here. We just need to figure out where here is."
"That is probably the best plan. I can request that you stay in my room, my father used to do things like that all the time. That way you will be safe from the others, at least, but I cannot promise that you will not be hurt again. If I prevent them from cursing you it will raise suspicion." Draco looked into her hurt eyes apologetically. Then he hardened his expression and looked away again. "But I will ensure you that you don't get gravely injured or raped again."
Hermione saw the anger darkening his eyes from a silvery grey to a hard steely flint. Her stomach did an odd sort of flopping, for the only thing about the man in front of her that resembled Draco in any way was his eyes. She used to think that he favoured his father, but after closer inspection, she couldn't reconcile the Draco Malfoy she saw on the evening of the benefit with the figure of the man in front of her.
"You don't look like your father at all," she said quietly.
Draco looked at her sharply. "What?"
Hermione stepped back quickly, Draco noticed and cringed, worried that he frightened her.
"I just mean that I used to imagine that as you aged you would look more and more like your father, but now I don't think that's true. Your eyes are the same colour, but that is where the similarities end." Hermione said in a small voice.
Draco opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He closed it and opened it again to talk about their plan for escape, but snapped it shut again when he heard voices outside the room.
"Get in the bed, quickly. Pinch your face, do something to make it look like you've been crying and pretend to be passed out." Draco said pushing Hermione into the bed. "I'm sorry about what I'm about to do, but I'll get you something else."
Draco pulled out his wand and stuck it under the covers. He carefully used it to rip the Hermione's dress enough to pull it completely from her body and threw it on the floor along with her bra and tattered knickers. Hermione's face turned a crimson colour as Draco divested her clothing. He politely refused to look, but he didn't miss the state of her under things, and he felt another odd pull at his gut. He didn't say anything else, he simply threw open the door to his room and made a show of straightening his robes and fixing his long blond hair.
"Dolohov, your timing is perfect," she heard him say. His voice trailed to nothing as he walked further away. Hermione waited in the bed for a few more minutes before sliding out carefully, wrapping the sheet tightly around her. She walked over to the window and stood to the side of it before she carefully pulled it back, just enough to look outside. She was high up in the building and took in the view of the waves crashing against the cliffs below. There was something familiar about the place they were, and Hermione racked her brain trying to figure it out. She closed her eyes and imagined the place she was in from the outside without a winter tempest beating against the nearby bluff.
A memory of Hermione's ninth birthday came floating through her mind. She remembered visiting a place like this with her parents. Her parents were fascinated with what appeared to be ruins to them, but Hermione could see something much more. She described in great detail the grandeur of the castle and even imagined that she saw the mythical Nessie in the Loch below. Her parents had told her it was all just of a figment of her overactive imagination in that indulging tone they often used before they knew she could do magic, and before they knew she really could see things they didn't. But Urquhart Castle was a popular tourist spot; surely they wouldn't use this place? As if to answer her question, in the distance Hermione could see the long curved back of the Loch Ness Monster gleaming against the water. She couldn't believe how deceptively simple it was. The Aurors would never think to look near a Muggle tourist trap for rogue Pureblood supremacists.
Hermione shuffled back to the bed and lay back down, her heart racing with the discovery, eagerly awaiting Draco's return so they could discuss their current options. Now that she was positive of the location, they could get the Aurors there immediately, and she could stay to help fight. The relief of finding a way out and the comfort of the bed eased the tension in her muscles considerably and she was able to fall into a shallow, but restful, sleep. Sleeping deeply was something she would be unlikely to do until the pain of being violated and cursed dulled to a distant memory, and that could take years.
******************************************************************************Draco followed Dolohov and Goyle back to the room that he'd initially arrived in. The room had been rearranged to allow for a large oak table that was surrounded by several large and comfortable-looking leather chairs. There was more food sprawled out on the table, and eating from it was Draco's own uncle Rodolphus Lestrange. He was mad as a hatter, and Draco imagined he was even more so since his wife was killed the day Voldemort fell. Next to Rodolphus were Julius Jugson and Corbin Yaxley, both Death Eaters.
Draco looked at the trio with an expression of pleasant surprise and hauteur.
"Greetings, my old friends," he said extending his hands in a style very reminiscent to Voldemort himself. The three men practically fell over themselves in their haste to bow at Lucius' feet. Lucius shoved them off quickly, trying not to blench. He took a seat at the head of the table and fixed himself a plate. He made a mental note to get a plate of food to Hermione the first opportunity he got.
"Thank you for my gift, Goyle. You were right. I did enjoy her. So much so in fact, I would prefer to keep her for awhile, if you don't mind." Draco drawled in that way only a Malfoy could do.
"Of course, you may do as you wish," Dolohov replied cordially.
Lestrange leaned back in his chair, twirling his wine goblet around in front of his eyes, watching the blood red liquid swirl inside with fascination. Without looking away from his glass he spoke to Draco.
"You already know of our intentions to begin a new faction against Muggle filth, we hardly need to rehash those details. I believe our first order of business is to release my brother and the rest of our fellows from Azkaban prison."
Draco could not help but look at Rodolphus with interest. Apparently he was shrewder than Draco had assumed. But the way he was staring at the wine in the glass was infinitely creepy. He put the glass down abruptly and faced Draco.
"Lucius, what weaknesses are you aware of at Azkaban? Now that the place is Unplottable, we cannot even send a scouting party, but since it is no longer run by Dementors it should be more accessible once it is located," Rodolphus stated. "How did you leave?"
Draco rubbed his chin and wondered how much he should reveal. In the end he decided to tell the truth, because hopefully they would all be caught before it mattered. Draco was beseeching the heavens for a quick and anticlimactic end to this whole situation.
"You enter from within the Ministry now. There is a special room designed to transport people directly to and from the prison. There is a special charm on the room that prevents the guard from taking anyone to the prison if the guard is under duress, so it would require infiltration of the most discreet kind to gain access to the prison using that portal." Draco took a drink of his wine and waited for Dolohov to absorb the information.
Yaxley, who used to work for the Ministry, was frowning in concentration. Finally, he shook his head slowly, "Scrimgeour wanted to do something like that before we got rid of him. That settles it then. We cannot possibly move forward with our plan without more support. We need our brothers from Azkaban. Tomorrow night at the first official Putus Cruor Confuto meeting we will discuss how to release them. Tell us, Lucius, is there a chance the lovely Narcissa and your son, Draco will be joining us?"
Draco snorted derisively. "Of course not, the brat is the reason I was in Azkaban in the first place, and my lovely wife, well, let's just say I will pay her a visit in due time. For now, they are not to know that I am released."
Draco sent out a mental apology to his mother for having to speak of her in such a way, but it was no secret that she was just as ashamed of her husband as Draco was. She too had testified against him, in his trial out of solidarity for her son. When she'd betrayed Voldemort by being facetious about Harry's beating heart, her husband claimed to have lost all respect for her. It was heartbreaking for Narcissa to know that Lucius was still as attached to his master as ever, but Draco knew that her lie contributed to the downfall of Voldemort, and in his eyes that made her a hero. Harry thought so too, and she was awarded an Order of Merlin Second Class. She accepted the award, but only under the condition that it remained secret what she did. She rightfully feared that Death Eaters would find and kill her for her betrayal.
"If you'll excuse me, I think I would like to take a walk outside. It has been so long since I have enjoyed fresh air." Draco said, pushing his chair out and rising from the table elegantly. Once he stood, he noticed something shiny sitting on the mantelpiece and he went over to investigate. He recognised it as the hair comb Hermione was wearing at the benefit. He had not been able to give it much thought then, other than that it must have been very expensive. Upon closer inspection he could see that he was right. It must have been a gift from Potter.
"Where did this come from?" Draco asked Dolohov, holding up the comb.
Dolohov laughed a little too raucously for Draco's taste as he stood with him. "It is just a little financial backing for our cause. I took it from the Mudblood."
"Hmm, perhaps this little gem will help me persuade my wife to see reason. You know how easily she is bought." I'm sorry, Mother. Draco pocketed the comb, intending to give it back to Hermione, "I think I will keep it."
Dolohov looked a little disappointed but he did not argue. "As you wish. I will go with you for your walk, we must be careful here because we are not staying in the sort of fortress you might expect."
Draco looked at Dolohov with one eyebrow raised in mild curiosity. Inside, he was burning with the desire to know where he was.
"Very well, then. Take me outside and show me this place, and while we are walking you can tell me who I can expect at this meeting we will have tomorrow night."
Draco followed Dolohov down several corridors and one flight of stairs until they reached what he presumed to be a side entrance, for the door was nondescript and tucked into an alcove.
Dolohov pulled out his wand and disillusioned himself, motioning for Draco to do the same. Draco did as was suggested, and waited impatiently for Dolohov to lead on.
"It is late, so few people should be around, but to be sure, we should disguise ourselves," Dolohov said as he threw open the door, "for we are hiding right out in the open."
Draco had to force himself from gaping at his surroundings. There were only a few people milling about in the dark winter night, but Draco immediately recognised them as Muggles.
"You see, Lucius, we are hiding in a place that the Aurors would never think to look, right amongst the Muggles in the legendary Urquhart Castle," Dolohov said with pride.
Draco bit back a response at how clever that actually was. Instead, he muttered only one word before confidently stepping forward into the night, "Ironic."
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Harry had been pacing for hours. Draco had sent word of where they were located, and the details of the meeting that would occur the following night, including a list of those expected to be in attendance. Most of them were on the Ministry's Most Wanted List. Dawlish had quickly summoned every available Auror and forced them to take a vow of silence about the mission. It was a necessary precaution, because if any of them were involved with the Putus Cruor Confuto, they would be unable to speak, and their betrayal would trigger an alarm at the Ministry. The Aurors accepted that fate with good grace, for it was common practice and although it was extreme, it kept the department honest.
Their plan was extremely simple, for they were going to storm the castle. Draco had mentioned in the few words at a time the coin allowed, that while the hiding place is one that an Auror would not necessarily look for, it was difficult to protect because of its Muggle affiliations. The meeting was to begin at midnight, with an initiation ceremony for all the members, and Harry was hopeful that it would not be ten minutes in before the Aurors arrived. They did have to wait for it to begin, however, in order to get there when the miscreants were least ready to defend themselves.
Draco had also sent a message that while Hermione was all right, she was somehow not alright, and would need treatment when she left. He'd also mentioned that she insisted on staying to fight, and Harry knew that was a battle Draco would lose. As much as Harry wanted her safe and away from harm, he would never be able to force her away from a fight, and that was one of the many things he loved about her.
Harry paused behind his desk to pick up the same picture of Hermione he'd been staring at repeatedly since she disappeared; except for now, folded neatly in the frame, was also a picture of Hermione smiling for the camera at the benefit before she disappeared. Harry unfolded the newsprint photograph and looked longingly at the picture. He did love Hermione a great deal, and her disappearance only reinforced that fact. Harry was beginning to think that maybe it was time to start hinting at a relationship with Hermione. They both agreed that if they were still single at thirty they would give each other a chance. It was five years too soon, but Harry knew that Hermione would need someone more than ever right now, and he wanted it to be him. They were the best of friends, and he knew that to be a solid foundation for a relationship. The hard part would be taking that step forward into the physical. She was always reluctant, and Harry never pushed her, and because of that, he believed he was the only one who knew how in love with Hermione he actually was.
"I know what you're thinking,"
Harry quickly folded the picture up and put it back in the frame. Ron was leaning casually against the doorjamb watching him.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to know what you're thinking," Ron said, "you're thinking about Hermione, and what it would be like to be with her."
"Am I that transparent?" Harry dug in a cabinet and found a bottle of Old Ogden's Best Firewhiskey, and offering Ron a glass.
Ron took the glass with a nod and seated himself in front of Harry's desk. "Maybe not to everyone, but I'm your best friend, Harry. I know your career has been important, but it is quite obvious to those of us who know you why you're still single. Hermione has been really absorbed with her work and receives very few offers, despite how beautiful she is."
Ron took a sip of the Firewhiskey, and smacked his lips with satisfaction. "But she's intimidating and around you all the time, so that is to be expected. You, on the other hand, get an offer practically every day. In two years Dawlish is going to retire, you're going to become head of the department, and she's going to be running St. Mungo's completely by then. You would be a powerful couple."
Harry furrowed his brow as he ruminated on Ron's words. "Are you saying that I should go for it? You don't think it will ruin our friendship?"
"I don't think anything could ruin your friendship, as long as you go into it with the understanding that it might not work. I know you could never walk away from Hermione no matter how bad it got, and she is sensible enough to understand from the beginning that it could go awry."
"When did you get so smart?" Harry asked his friend, feeling immensely hopeful about his future.
Ron threw back the rest of his drink in one swallow and grinned at Harry. "Pansy has taught me a lot about being observant. And she might have mentioned that to me once or twice when we lay in bed gossiping about our friends late into the night. Now, go home, get some sleep, we have work to do tomorrow."
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"Have they been feeding you?" Draco asked Hermione, who was attacking the plate of food he'd brought her when he finally managed to get back to his room for the night.
Hermione swallowed thickly and took a large drink of water. She willed herself not to blush at her own behaviour before she spoke. "They fed me twice. I admit, I am hungry and I want to get my strength up. I have not been able to rest properly after torture, and I am very weak. I hate to admit it, but I am."
"You should not be ashamed of that." Draco said quietly. Neither spoke for a few minutes while Hermione ate and Draco stared out the window. In the reflection he could see Hermione slowing down as she ate. At some point she'd put her dress back on, and in the window's muddled reflection he could not discern the tears, and it looked lovely once again.
"You really looked very nice at the benefit," Draco said to the window, "Eliza was looking forward to speaking with you so she could find out who designed your dress."
Hermione's heart fluttered infinitesimally when he complimented her and then she felt a tiny fractional stop in it when she heard him mention Eliza. She vaguely wondered where those feelings were coming from considering it wasn't even really Draco she was looking at.
"Thank you," she replied, chalking her reaction up to his coming to rescue her as if she was suffering from some sort of 'knight in shining armour' syndrome, "Are you and Eliza dating seriously now?"
"Three months now." Draco admitted, turning around to sit down. He pulled the flask of Polyjuice Potion out of his pocket and grimaced as he swallowed. "This stuff is really terrible."
"I know," Hermione muttered, thinking of the two times she'd taken it herself. The first time had gone disastrously wrong, and the second was when she'd transformed into Harry the last day he lived at Privet Drive.
"Do you think you and Eliza will stay together when she finishes her semester here?" Hermione asked.
Draco looked away from her and did not say anything. Hermione could not read the expression in his eyes, but she assumed she made some sort of gaffe, because he was not responding. Hermione realised then that she did not even know if Draco was particularly loquacious in the first place, and it was possible he was not.
"We don't have to make small talk, Granger," he said finally. The truth was that he probably would stay with Eliza. If he could make that one step forward that would lead him to waking up next to her, he might be willing to pursue the relationship after she moved back to America.
"Sorry." Hermione put the plate down on the bedside table and leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes.
"Don't be. I apologise. It is not often that I speak of my feelings, and I do not desire to do so here."
Hermione opened her eyes to see him looking out the window again. He was such a haunted young man, and Hermione could sympathise. Harry too, would often have bouts of sullenness and she was all too aware of the things he'd been through that made her friend that way. She imagined Draco's demons were harder to cope with, because he had not only to face horrors, but to inflict them as well. Hermione had no idea how one overcame such a history. But now, she had more of her own demons to live with, and she understood completely Draco's reluctance to speak. While it was easy for her to ask questions about feelings, she doubted she would be willing to answer any of them herself.
"You ought to get some sleep. Your presence will be required tomorrow and you should be well rested. I highly doubt the day will be pleasant for you." Draco set his wand to alert him every hour through the night to remind him to take his Polyjuice Potion. "It will be expected that I took advantage of you and then fell asleep in the same bed. I hope you don't mind."
Hermione scooted closer to the edge of the bed to allow him room. "Awkward, but I don't mind."
When he sat down on the edge of the bed she rolled over so that she was not facing him, and after a moment she said, "Good night, Draco. Thank you for everything."
It felt almost surreal to hear his own name when he was dressed in his father's body, but hearing his name on her lips had an effect on him that he could not quite identify. Draco was amazed at how calm and collected she was being, after everything that had happened to her. Either she was immensely stronger than he'd originally thought, or she was swimming in a sea of denial. Either way, she was going to need someone to pick up the pieces with her when this was all over. He knew that Harry was waiting eagerly for the opportunity; Draco just hoped that he was up for the task.
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A/N: Thanks for reading and if you have a moment, leave a review!
My beta for this chapter has lots of names, today we are going to call her blueolgeskymeistershymoonfunk08. Some of my sentences look that crazy when I send off a chapter and because of her they now look a little more legible like this... blueskyshymoon08 or olgameisterfunk08. Let's give her a shout out for the good beta work. Whoot
And also, we need to do this again for Rose Eleanor Schultz who has more than one name but we will stick with just this one. Between two different betas if there is still a mistake, the fault is none of ours and the blame belongs to minor glitches in technology that deletes and repeats words, steals commas from where they do belong and deposits them where they don't, and messes up my punctuation around my dialogue. If only that were more than partially true... we could blame computers for everything!
Thanks again for reading and please review! If you want that is... I will still write the next chapter but if you're anxious for it, I gotta know.