Hermione screamed his name again and again even though Draco had left. There had been a moment when he looked at her that she thought he might grant her wish. Even though fear gripped her, she still believed she could be reunited with her love and best friend. However, Draco merely pulled her hands away from his robes and walked away.

He ignored her pleas and she was alone again. She regressed into infancy, safe within the mother's womb. She gathered the scraps that were once a lovely dress and curled up into herself oblivious to the grit rubbed into her cheek and arm. She rocked herself and sang a lullaby her mother had sung to her.

She was terrified of what would happen to her. What horrible experiments would Mangela induce on her? How many Death Eaters would hex her for entertainment? How much suffering could she endure before her body gave in? Would her mind give before then?

She knew the chances of being rescued were slim and that all she could really hope for was a quick and painless death. Her parents would never grieve for her; they were oblivious to her existence. What would happen now that the Chosen One was gone? Was it even possible to destroy Voldemort?

Her sobs grew quiet but her tears continued dripping onto the ground. The wounds on her palms, though healed, still ached. Her body sore from the hexes she had received. She wondered what curse Bellatrix had struck her with that made her stomach feel as if were being twisted and pulled. She wondered when she would be exposed to the vile potion Mangela had produced.

Would Malfoy come to observe her torture? Some how she doubted it. She sensed he had not enjoyedthe game as much as his aunt was. The first spells he cast had been painless, humiliating, but painless.

Bellatrix had even noticed and taunted him. While the Cruciatus curse had been painful on her weakbody, Hermione knew it was not as horrible as it could be. Bellatrix had struck her with it before and she knew what it could be like.

Perhaps that's why she asked him to end her suffering. He had lifted her from the ground and carried her to the cell. He could have easily used Mobilicorpus but he carried her. It seemed such an odd thing to do. Malfoy willingly touch her? Her tears had finally stopped as she contemplated Malfoy's actions. Eventually, she drifted off into sleep the lullaby still playing in her head.

She was dancing in a dress with layers upon layers of pink tulle, her hair loose and hanging down her bare back. She was smiling and dancing with a partner as Professor McGonagall counted off; one, two, three! one, two, three! as they waltzed.

Viktor Krumb stood at the periphery, scowling at the couple. It was then her dream partner was revealed, Draco Malfoy.

Draco had left the dungeons and made his way to his room, ignoring the few people he passed along the way. The sound of Hermione's voice yelling his name reverberated in his mind all the way back to his room. He could feel the desperation in her voice. He recalled the pain in her eyes.

It wasn't is fault! He was being forced into to do these things! His life was at stake! He had already lost his mother. As he tried to gather his thoughts, Hermione's screams were replaced by Dumbledore's words from the night on the tower when he offered Draco a choice.

Of course, Draco had made his choice. He choose to push aside his feelings and stay. He had been too afraid to leave. But now all those walls he had carefully constructed to protect him were crumbling down. Waves of fear, anger, and sadness crashed down upon him. He would surely drown soon. He could no longer be a part of this.

He checked his pocket and felt the reassuring lumps of the precious stones. He would find Crabbe and Goyle and ask them if they wanted to go to Diagon Alley. He'd make up some excuse. Once there he could easily loose them, exchange the gems for money and take the Floo somewhere.

He had to leave. Now. He wouldn't be able to hide his true feelings much longer and once Voldemort learned the truth, he would kill Draco as easily as he had taken his mother's life. Maybe he would have him tortured first as an example to others. Perhaps Voldemort would hand him over to Mangela to experiment with like Hermione.

He saw her in his mind's eye huddled in the cold dark corner of her cell waiting for Mangela or Bellatrix or some other Death Eater to use her for sport. He understood her fear, her desire to escape even through death. He couldn't leave her.

He ran his fingers through his hair, clutching and pulling at the strands to alleviate the pain pounding in his skull. His heart was beating so hard in his chest it was painful. He checked his pocket again.

How could he leave with Granger? It was impossible!

This complicated things. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he should kill the girl before he left.

At least then she would not suffer any more. However, he didn't think he could find it in him to deliver an effective Avada Kedavra. If he managed to get her out of the cell... if he could open the cell. Surely Mangela would have strong wards protecting his study.

Draco felt sick. It would be easier to leave her behind. What would he do with her anyway? She would have to find the Order of the Phoenix on her own. It would be best for everyone if he just granted her wish. It would be quick and painless (he hoped) and he would be free to leave. At least he wouldn't leave her to suffer.

He sat for a moment on the edge of is bed reviewing his plans. It seemed to be the best way. He noticed the clock and saw that it was nearly dinner time. He thought it best that he make an appearance tonight and keep up appearances. He'd have a few laughs with his mates, make sure to be seen by Bellatrix, maybe even swallow some food in the process. It'd probably be a good idea.

The dining hall in the Malfoy Manor was a large and regal affair. The table could hold up to forty guests. This evening, like most, the table was nearly full as the House Elves kept a dinner schedule.

The small elves came into the massive room with plates upon plates of food and large pitchers of drink.

Draco eyed the seats and noticed his aunt seated next to her husband. The two were in conversation and didn't notice Draco enter the room. At last Draco spotted Theordore seated across from Blaise. He pulled out an empty chair next to Nott.

"Hey, mate," Nott welcomed.

Blaise nodded a greeting. Draco helped himself to the food and attempted to eat as he joined in the conversation. He had drank a glass of Elf wine rather quickly and was working on his second glass when it occured to him that perhaps he should not get pissed.

At one point during the meal his eyes caught his aunt's. She was watching him. He smiled and held up his glass to her. She raised hers in response and smirked. He felt as if he had gained some of her trust back within the last few hours.

After the meal he was dragged into the front sitting room where once his mother and father greeted guests. It had been a stuffy, uncomfortable room and he associated it with long, boring conversations.

He had memories of sitting on the stiff furniture wearing scratchy clothing and trying not to fall asleep while the adults discussed the many dull topics that adults did. It didn't improve as he grew older for then he was expected to participate in the dreadfully dull conversations.

Gregory, Pancy and Millicent joined them. Blaise and Gregory started up a game of Wizard's Chess while the others watched and talked. As the minutes ticked by, Draco grew more aggitated. The longer he waited, the less likely he would be able to get his hands on a Portkey that evening.

That would mean waiting another day. It was as if Voldemort himself would appear and announce that he knew of Draco's plans. He imagined the Dark Lord hitting him with Avada Kedavra and being killed instantly. He realised that Granger would be alone and there would be no one to help her.

"Oi! Draco!" Vincent called.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Just wonderin' where you'd gone off to." He, Millicent and Pansy giggled.

"I'm tired," Draco answered and even managed a yawn. "I'm off to sleep."

The group nodded, said their good nights and returned to their tasks. Draco left the sitting room and went to the Great Hall where the older members usually congregated in the evenings. He was pleasantly surprised to find Snape in conversation with Yaxley and looking utterly bored.

Snape was not a regular fixture at the Manor, though he found refuge there after he killed the Dark Lord's nemesis. Eventually, Snape had to return to Hogwarts to take over the Headmaster's position.

Draco was relieved to find his old professor and approached him.

Snape lifted his head as the boy stood by his seat.

"May I help you?" he asked in his familiar drawl.

"A word, Sir?"

Snape got up from the chair and went into the hall with long strides. Once outside he turned to face the boy, his face a mask of indifference though he seemed to have aged a few years in the last few weeks.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if I could get a Portkey."

"Late night rendezvous?"

"It's for tomorrow, Sir. I need to go to Dia "

"No need to explain." He looked around the hall until he spotted an object that would suffice. It was a candle holder made from Goblin silver. The thing was nearly priceless. Draco wondered if he'd be able to exchange that for money as well.

Snape waved his wand over the object and recited the charm to create a Portkey from the object. He handed it to Draco. Draco reached for the object, thanking his former Potions instructor when Snape pulled the object away. The two stood for a moment in silence, eye to eye.

Draco forced his mind to focus on the apothecary in Knockturn Alley.

"In need of potion ingredients, Draco?"

"Yes, I'm running low on Mandrake solution."

"I'm glad to know that you're still brewing your own potions."

"Of course," Draco smirked. "I learned from the best."

Snape rolled his eyes and once Draco took the candle holder, the older man turned back to the Great Hall. Draco watched with some amusement before he pocketed the Portkey and headed toward the dungeons. He worked out the scene in his mind. He would deliver the curse and activate the Portkey.

It was simple; one, two. He could do this. He must. It was the only way.

He retreated down the stone steps, listening carefully. The dungeons were dark with one sole torch burning at the bottom of the stairs. Draco was surprised there wasn't a guard in sight. He moved quietly, his wand held aloft. He hoped to find Granger asleep. It would be best if she was asleep and unaware. Perhaps she is dreaming...

He ceased his internal dialogue when he heard something. It was so faint he had to stop and listen carefully. It was a voice, Granger's voice. Was she talking to herself? He moved closer, able to hear the words now.

"... pretty baby, do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby. Cares you know not, therefore sleep, while over you a watch I'll keep. Sleep, pretty darling..."

His heart clenched but he forced himself to continue. Soon he was on the other side of her cell. His eyes had adjusted enough to the dark and he was able to make out the pale dress that she still wore as she sat in the far back corner, rocking and singing. He listened.

"...do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby... Golden slumbers kiss your eyes, smiles await you when you rise. Sleep, pretty bab " The singing stopped. "Draco?"

He didn't answer but stood before her, his wand directed at her.

"Go ahead," she implored, "please, Draco."

His hand began to shake and his head filled with memories of the night he faced Dumbledore. He hadn't been able to kill him despite the consequences. The same seemed to be true now. He broke down, lowered his wand. His hand covered his face, tried to cover his shame. Hermione crawled over to him, stood and reached for his arm.

"It's alright, Dra-"

"Stop!" he snapped.

"Please," she begged, her tears coming again.

"I can't," he whispered so quietly she could hardly hear the words. "I'm sorry."

He turned away and left so quickly she barely had time to react. Her only hope had fled. She sank to the floor and cried.

Draco returned to his room and paced the floor, making up excuses for his failure to act. He turned over various plans in his mind, considered going back in the middle of the night when she might actually be asleep. He fingered the silver candle holder which weighed down his pocket and wondered if perhaps he should use the Portkey and just leave. Granger wasn't his problem! Then why couldn't he bring himself to do it?

Eventually, after some late hour, Draco lay down to rest his eyes. Soon he fell asleep and tumbled into troubled dreams. He slept deeply and was awoken by thunderous knocking on his door. He bolted upright and glanced around his room, confused. He was still dressed and the sun was already brightly shining through his window.

He saw the time. Merlin's beard! It was nearly noon! He got up, groggily, and answered the door. Gregory and Vincent were standing on the other side.

"Blimey, mate! We thought you were dead!" Vincent teased.

"No," Draco answered. He was annoyed that he had fallen asleep and it was so late already. Surely Mangela had begun his work for the day. "What'd you want?"

"Snape said you're off to Diagon Alley," Gregory explained, "thought we'd join you."

"There's nothin' to do," Vincent grumbled.

Draco panicked for a moment; what was his plan anyway? Kill Granger, escape. That was it. He could loose Crabbe and Goyle easily enough. Wait, would he be able to get to Granger first? Was Mangela conducting his experiments on her? Shite!

"I can't stay there."

"Com'on, mate. You hardly go out. You're always cooped up in your room."

"People are sayin' things," Vincent added.

"What things?!" Draco snapped.

Vincent shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "You know, things. People just think it's a bit weird how you haven't been around much and after that thing with Dumbl-"

"No one knows!"

"Listen, mate," Gregory interjected, "we get it. Really. It's just that not everyone does."

"I don't give a flying fuck what others think!" Draco lied.

"You should," Gregory warned. He nodded and left with Vincent.

Once again, panic filled Draco. He had to leave and he had to take care of Granger, one way or another. He headed to the dungeons with confidence he did not feel, his robes bellowing behind him.

Snape would have been impressed. He saw Pansy Parkinson and tried to bypass her without being seen.

"Where're you off to?" she asked.

"Looking for Bellatrix," he lied. "Have you seen her?"

She shook her head, looking a bit alarmed that he was actually looking for his aunt. He knew Pansy would leave him alone if he was looking for his aunt. It was also good to know that she wasn't around.

Soon he approached the dungeons. Sweat trickled down his back as he made his way down. He could not turn back. He nearly stumbled down the steps when he heard a scream. His heart began to pump harder and he fled down the rest of the stairs quickly. He turned to the left and saw the large room where Mangela had set up his make shift laboratory and saw the room awash in light. He stepped inside.

Mangela was standing and observing the effects of his latest potion, Liquid Fire. Hermione was laying atop the examination table, magically bound by her wrists and ankles. Draco watched in horror as she writhed, her skin an unnatural shade of red, sweat beaded on her skin and her hair damp with perspiration.

She struggled to free her arms and legs not caring that her tattered dress was in danger of revealing too much. Draco noticed his aunt staring in morbid fascination at the scene before her. At long last, Hermione ceased struggling, her body exhausted.

It was then that Bellatrix noticed her nephew's arrival. She was so enthralled with the show that she didn't notice his horrified expression. Instead, she joyfully greeted him, thinking he had come to see Mangela's work.

"Draco!" she called and flung her arms wide.

"Ah! So glad to have another observer!" Mangela stated when he turned to face the boy. "You're in luck, you haven't missed much. We've only just started."

"Did you see that, Draco?" Bellatrix whispered, clearly in awe. "That was the effect of one small drop!"

"Great Merlin!" Mangela exclaimed. "Feel the skin."

Bella approached the girl and slowly placed her index finger on Hermione's leg, clearly disgusted with the thought of touching the girl's skin. She pulled it away quickly and looked at Mangela with wide eyes. She burst out laughing.

Draco, despite himself, had to know. He stepped up to the table and placed his hand on Hermione's bare arm. Her skin was burning. He couldn't hide the shock.

"Is she conscious?" Bella asked, poking at the girl.

"No. It seems the pain was greater than I anticipated. Of course, I do have to take in account the girl's weakened form. She hasn't been eating."

Draco noted the loose fit of the dress which was now slightly askew.

"Can't you transfigure her clothing?" he asked in disgust.

"I suppose I should," Mangela sighed. "That dress looks as if it's ready to fall off."

"Well, I know a few boys who'd find use for a naked little mudblood," Bellatrix smirked.

Draco could not hide his disdain.

"Oh, not that you'd soil yourself with that!" Bellatrix assured her nephew, misinterpreting his reaction. "But there are others who do enjoy that sort of thing."

Mangela waved his wand over Hermione and the tattered dress was transformed into something that resembled a pinkish hospital gown. "Transfiguration was never my strongest area." he sighed.

"But you're a genius at potions!" Bellatrix sang.

"Well, we can continue our work once she's had some water and a bit of a rest. Come, Bella, let's share our notes with the Dark Lord. Draco, be a good boy and give the girl some water. She's dehydrated and will be absolutely useless otherwise."

Bellatrix clapped her hands, thrilled to be able to share such delicious news with the Dark Lord. She took Mangela's offered arm and the two left the lab.

Draco knew this was the moment. He had to act now. For some reason that defied logic, Draco hesitated and went to fill a glass with water. He returned to the table side and carefully lifted Hermione's head. Her eyelids moved and when the rim of the glass touched her bottom lip, she opened her mouth.

Gently, Draco tipped the glass so that Hermione could drink. She tried raising her head more and slurped the liquid. Draco set the glass down and Hermione protested with a groan. She opened her mouth to speak but was unable.

He released the bindings on her arms and helped her to sit up. He had to support her back but she greedily took the glass in her hands and drank. There were red, raw burns along her wrists and he took his wand and muttered an incantation that healed the marks. What was he doing? He asked himself.

Giving her water and healing her wounds before he kills her? It was ridiculous. He wasn't going to kill her.

He released her ankles and healed the sores there. He cast a cleaning spell to her hair and skin. It was not as good as soap and water but it helped. Then he cast a spell that changed Hermione's long, brown hair into a short dark bob. Lastly, he transfigured Mangela's poor attempt at clothing. It morphed into a simple dress in the same color as the original. Hermione finished the water and gave Draco the glass.

Without a word, Draco slipped his arms underneath her legs and around her waist. In his hand, he held the candle holder and activated the Portkey. He held on to Hermione tightly as they were pulled from Mangela's lab and were transported to Knockturn Alley.