Author's Note: Here it is, Draco's perspective!

Chapter 32

Fuck.

It takes all of my will power to stop myself from removing the shackles from her wrists and ankles, covering her up with a robe, and taking her straight out of here. No. I would be dead in a second, and Granger would still be locked up in here.

I have to stay alive. That is the priority.

I keep my eyes on the floor. I can't look at her body without stirring some sort of physical response within me that would not be appropriate, considering her blood status. My body is already overheated, a result of that first glance at her uncovered form, and I try my best to hide my reaction.

"Granger," Voldemort hisses.

I can't keep staring at the floor—it's too obvious. I nonverbally conjure a set of loose robes around her, hiding her figure. I look up to see that Voldemort is watching me with an expression that could almost be described as curious. I don't make excuses, and he doesn't ask.

He moves over to Granger and levitates the golden heart charm.

"So this is the cursed necklace that the other Death Eaters cannot seem to defeat. What do you think of it?"

I quickly cast a nonverbal Glamour Charm on my eyes, the only part of my face that she can see—if this goes the way I expect it to and she discovers my identity, she will hate me forever. And I don't know if I can bear that kind of hatred from her. Not after making peace with her.

I move forward and finger the levitated charm, aware of how it heats up at my familiar touch. I hadn't anticipated that the charms placed on it would have that sort of effect.

"It looks… completely ordinary, My Lord," I say, releasing the charm.

She looks up at me, but I avoid her eyes.

"Test the claims of the others."

I nod and take a step back to put some space between us. I point my wand at her and fire a Stunning Spell. Then I take one step to my left. Even though I already know that the spell can't hurt her, I still want to block it for her. The jet of light bends back and flies past me to hit the wall behind me.

"Interesting," I say, as though I didn't expect that reaction.

I proceed to throw several hexes at her, moving around to avoid the rebounding shots and to try different angles. Not one reaches her. There's no denying it. I'm brilliant.

Then Voldemort holds his hand up, and I hold my wand at my side. He steps toward Granger, and I see that his intention is to examine the charm. I smile slightly behind the mask. I'm about to see whether or not my new little spell worked.

When the Dark Lord draws his hand back as though burned, I quickly mask the feeling of triumph that fills me. Looks like I've done it.

"It appears specifically engineered so that I cannot touch it," Voldemort says. "Interesting, indeed."

I step forward. "My Lord, shall I go on?"

Voldemort backs up to stand by the door, and I turn around to face him.

"Try it nonverbally."

Nonverbally? Logically, that would weaken the spell, wouldn't it? But I don't argue. Maybe this spell is different—it's something that Voldemort came up with, after all.

I turn around to face her, but her voice makes me pause.

"Malfoy."

Fuck. She knows.

I don't let this affect me, lifting my hand to point my wand at her. My gaze rests on her face for a brief moment, and then I look away. I can't watch her go through this.

"Draco, where are your manners?" the Dark Lord asks from behind me.

I lower my wand. This is just putting off the inevitable. Fuck.

"Granger," I say, keeping my voice even. "How did you know it was me?"

I can feel her eyes searching for mine, but I can't bring myself to face her.

"Your voice," she says.

Ah, well. There goes my last chance with her.

Voldemort lifts my wand arm for me, prompting me to get started. I take a good look at her face before aiming my wand at her stomach and concentrating hard.

Crucio Locus.

The response is immediate—I see the tightening of her expression as she tries to hold back a scream. No, I can't have that. If she doesn't make a sound, Voldemort will think I'm going too easy on her. I increase the pain and draw a loud shriek from her.

Her shackles clank together loudly as she tries to free herself, and I feel my will power fading slightly.

No. Self-preservation is the priority. I have to keep reminding myself that. A dead body can't save Granger. I have to be alive and well to free her from this prison.

"You're so generous today, Draco."

Fuck.

"I'm just getting started," I say, smirking behind the mask.

Then I point my wand at her chest, and the screams get louder.

Staying alive. Staying alive. That's all that matters.

I move the wand up to her neck.

I realize just how grateful I am that Voldemort prefers watching the tortured rather than the torturer—if he could see my eyes right now, I'm almost positive that he would see straight through to my soul.

I can't stop the spell. Do not stop the spell.

Last one. Last one.

I can make it.

We can make it.

I shift my wand to point at her forehead, and the shrieks become ear-splitting.

"Kill me, please!" she screams.

Fuck.

"Kill me!" she cries repeatedly.

Every scream pierces my heart. I'm being ripped apart, one piece at a time. Her wild eyes find mine, fix on mine, and I can't look away.

Hang in there.

"I'm begging you, Malfoy! Kill me!" she howls.

I finally lower my wand, lifting the curse. I drop my gaze to the floor, hardly able to believe that I made it. That we made it.

"It seems the Cruciatus Curse still works on her," Voldemort says, bringing me back to the present. "If this charm has a weakness, then its creator was not infallible. We can dismantle it."

Good luck with that, Lord Voldemort.

"Granger," he hisses. "Will you tell me who has betrayed me? I will consider letting you go free, if you do."

Tell him. Fuck it all, just tell him. I could release the shackles, toss her my wand. She could make a run for it. The charm would protect her from almost anything. I know enough wandless magic to keep Voldemort at bay for a short period of time. Maybe just long enough.

But she's already speaking.

"If I tell you, then I'll have outlived my worth, and you'll kill me."

"I will not deny that that is highly likely. But with or without your help, I will find the traitor."

I doubt he can find out that it was me without capturing another member of the Order, and they won't be much different from Granger. A very righteous group of people, always willing to die for the cause. That's what separates me from them. I don't think I could ever die for an idea.

"If you assist me," Voldemort continues, "you might survive. If not, you face certain death."

"I'll take death, then," she says immediately.

No. Fuck, no. She won't be dying anytime soon. Not when there's something I can do about it.

"Maybe we can change your mind," Voldemort says. "Draco, if you please."

I point my wand at her. I'll start her off soft this time.

"Crucio!"

She cries out immediately, and the sound hurts me. My will weakens for a moment as I once again consider the possibility of making a break for it.

No! Self-preservation. I have to stay alive.

I have to stay alive.

I aim my wand at her chest. Crucio Locus.

Again, her screams increase in volume, and I'm almost surprised that she still has a voice.

Her body jerks back and forth, and I wonder if she's even doing that consciously anymore. The shackles are cutting into her wrists and ankles, and I quickly focus my eyes on hers. Her eyes are wild again, filled with tears, staring at almost anything in the cell but me.

I shift my wand slowly to her left shoulder, and then her right.

And then those brown eyes lock with mine. I wish she wouldn't look at me. What she sees wouldn't be me. I have control over my emotions now, and what remains on the outside is a mask of indifference.

"Please, Malfoy, please! Please!"

That's all that I can understand before her voice breaks off into unintelligible screams again.

She wants to be gone. She wants to die.

Sorry, Granger.

Calming my mind, I consolidate all of my concentration on her—the torture curse weakens, but hardly noticeably. Then, a stream of white light flows from the end of my wand, and the screams stop. I just put her to sleep.

"Draco, what is the meaning of this?"

"I—I don't know," I say, and even I am surprised by the tone of false astonishment in my voice.

Voldemort moves around to face me, and I meet his eyes readily.

"I… the screams were really bothering me. I must have…" I let my voice fade away.

He drives into my head, browsing for any hint that that bolt of white light could have been intentional. But all he finds is intense concentration on carrying out his orders.

"I see," he says.

Then he frowns. "That Macnair can't do anything on his own, can he?" he mutters.

"Should I assist?"

He shakes his head. "I must go myself. Return to the Manor. Continue tomorrow, and bring Bellatrix."

"Yes, My Lord."

He vanishes in a puff of dark smoke, and I release a breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. That was a fucking close call. Thank god Macnair chose this moment to summon the Dark Lord. He may have just saved my life.

I exit the cell without a backward glance—I can't risk losing control now. It'd be too easy to convince myself to try to escape with her while Voldemort isn't here. I need time to think.

"Draco!"

I'm already halfway down the hall, but I slow to a stop. "Blaise?"

"Draco, what the fuck did you just do to Hermione?"

Hermione. He can call her Hermione. Jealousy threatens to bubble to the surface again, and I work my hardest to repress it as I move back to the cell that his voice is coming from.

"Who do you think you are, Blaise? Do you think I have to answer to you? Do you think we're still friends?" I ask in a cold voice.

He's strung up in a position similar to Hermione's. He glares at me.

"If she's hurt—"

"Oh, are you going to threaten me now? I have plenty of time on my hands right now. Would you like a turn, traitor?"

Old anger flares up in his eyes as I remind him of our battle.

"So you haven't forgotten either," I say. "Then again, it must be hard to forget, with a scar like that."

"Speak for yourself."

I enter the cell and shut the door. I nonverbally cast a Muffling Charm.

"It's safe to speak now," I say. "And it's impossible to forget, with a scar like this."

He nods. "Impossible," he agrees. "Hermione—"

"She's fine," I reply tersely.

"She didn't sound fine."

I glare at him. "You think I didn't know that?"

"You—"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to inflict that sort of pain on her without being able to stop it? You should know that I can't just stop. He'd kill me for being the traitor, and then her because she's a Mudblood that he doesn't need anymore."

His eyes burn into mine. "You're not the only one who cares about her, Draco."

"What, have you grown a heart at last? And for the Mudblood, of all people?"

"Stop calling her that. It doesn't even have a meaning for us anymore. Not when we feel—"

"Don't speak for my emotions," I interrupt him.

"I know your feelings, Draco. Don't you go denying them now. I know you better than anyone."

"I have to go."

I turn and head for the exit.

"Draco, wait."

I pause, lifting my wand in preparation to lift the Muffling Charm.

"Save her. I don't care whether or not you can get me out of here. Just… save her."

"If you really know me as well as you say you do, you should know that I was already going to do that."

I flick my wand to lift the charm and then exit the cell.

Time to have a talk with Aunt Bella about the visit Voldemort is paying to Macnair. I have a rescue to plan, and it'd be convenient to know when the Dark Lord will return.

Author's Note: It might be a few days before my next update, so hang in there! You'll be able to read some more about our beloved turncoat soon. (: