The following morning dawned, clear and bright. Draco dressed quickly, a simple high collared long sleeve shirt to cover the majority of his bruises. He father expected him, Granger in tow, by ten am in the library, or his choice would be made for him. A feather of fear slid down his spine.
Draco strode through the doors with all the grace his extensive practice could afford him. Facing his father, Draco knew that any crack of emotion would be seized upon and wielded as a weapon against him. Not knowing what to expect made it that much harder to hold onto his composure when he sighted Granger sitting cross legged on the thick rug before his father. Her hair sprang in wild curls off her head despite the dust coating her completely.
She did not turn when the door opened. Lucius flicked his gaze upwards towards his son, a sneer spilling onto his face.
His voice boomed outwards, "Draco, thank you for joining us!"
Inwardly Draco cursed, his alert spell must have faded he hadn't been warned that someone had entered Hermione's room.
"I came as requested Father," the word stung crossing his split lip.
"You came perfectly on time, how prompt of you. Well come now, prove your dedication to the cause," Lucius requested.
Slight movement behind his father pulled Draco's vision to his mother, reclining in an arm chair. Bile flooded his stomach as he made eye contact. Her slim face held no emotion, not that he expected any. She nodded minutely, and a weight fell from his chest, she knew that this was not his choice.
Dragging his vision back to his father Draco strengthened his resolve. He pushed forward, stepping around Granger, watching for the flinch he expected. She did not respond, at all. He circled her, stopping next his father. Granger had disappeared, in her place kneeled a woman whose glare rivaled that of any he had received.
Lucius began the interrogation, "Where is Harry Potter?"
Granger held her gaze, eyes never leaving knee level. "Not here."
Lucius struck her across the face. She slid off her knees, then pushed herself back up, never raising her gaze.
"Where is the Order?" He spat at her.
"Somewhere dark and dreary."
Lucius struck her the other way, both cheeks flaming from the strikes.
"I will ask you once more, where is Harry Potter?" The growl in his voice set the hairs on Draco's arms raising.
"Knowing Harry probably somewhere dangerous."
Lucius snapped his teeth together. "Draco, I want you to show Ms. Granger a spell to loosen her tongue."
Draco swallowed down a wince, pulling his wand from a pocket. He readied himself, throwing a quck glance at Granger, shocked to see her meeting his gaze. She shifted her head downward once, giving him permission.
"Crucio!"
The spell shot from his wand, Granger screaming as it connected.
Two hours passed like this, question from Lucius, non-answers from Granger, and Draco crucio-ing for each belligerent answer. As Lucius called for Trissa to take Granger back to her room Draco's face dripped with sweat.
He flinched when his father's hand landed on his shoulder. "You did well Draco. I knew you would not be one to shirk your duties twice."
Draco watched the hem of Lucius cloak flick through the door, vomiting into a nearby vase as soon as the door slammed closed. Immediately Nausicaa rose to comfort him, hand stroking his hair from his face.
"Hush, oh you did well Draco. So well," she crooned to him, softly rubbing his back.
When Draco's stomach finally emptied he stood up straight, his mother's hands falling away. He turned to her, realizing that he had finally pasted her in height. He wondered when it happened. They watched each other.
"I wish, with everything inside of me that I could have taken you away from this. If I could I would save you from becoming a monster like your father." Nausicaa stretched up on her toes, kissing his cheek before she left the room.
Draco avoided everyone for the rest of day, dividing his time between reapplying spells the Granger's cell and haunting the back hallways of the manor. Dark had fallen over the windows when Draco returned one finally time to Granger's door. A sharp knock from the inside of the door caused him to jump, curse, and glare at the door in that order.
He opened it, frowning when he searched the room and didn't find Granger. A light tug at the hem of his cloak caused him to repeat his earlier actions.
"Why in the bloody hell are you sitting in front of the door Granger?" He growled down at her.
She grinned up at him, all traces of the warrior who can take a hit gone. "I happened to be waiting for you," her face sobered as she continued; "I knew you would be feeling sorry for yourself. I forgive you, by the way."
With that she stood up, moving further into the room.
"My mother thinks I'm a monster."
Draco cringed as the words escaped his mouth. The thought had circled in his head all day, but it didn't need to be said. Hermione paused, looked over her shoulder at him, face blank.
"Do you think you are a monster?"
She asked it so simply, voicing the fear that taunted him. She watched him for a moment, before turning back to the bed.
"Yes," Draco whispered.
"Good," came the immediate reply.
"What?" He retorted, how could she say that? The Gryffindor princess, who saw good in everyone, condemned him to his fate.
He looked up, finding her perched on the bed. She made eye contact, a strange look crossing her face. "Real monsters don't acknowledge that they are monstrous."
Draco took a step forward, the still open door snapping shut behind him as he slid to the floor. His hands found his face as he stared into the darkness he found between his fingers. The hysterical laugh started out of now where, building until his chest heaved. Hermione peeled his fingers from his face, her lips moving slowly though he could not hear her. As his brain began to scream for oxygen sound began to filter back.
"Breathe with me, in," a small pause, "out."
She continued, repeating the same phrase until he could breathe normally again.
His rational brain kicked in again, while staring at the hands wrapped around his wrists, so close to his dark mark. Draco jerked upwards, pulling his hands back viciously.
"Don't touch me, you filthy mudblood!"
He wrenched the door open, running to his room. An ache in his chest, the waring of ideals, kept him awake all night.