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Stolen

A/N: Happy New Year! As promised here it is: Chapter 12. Warning: disturbing imagery ahead. It's a tad short, but there are some big questions answered! Enjoy and please leave a review!

Chapter 12: Sorrow and Loss

Sitting back and reflecting upon Draco's behavior, Hermione was forced to come to the only conclusion she could, and it could be summed up in a single word: peculiar. That was simply the only word for it. What was he playing at; who was he really; and, most importantly, whose side was he on?

Draco seemed to be, as silly as it sounded, several different people at once. There was the kind, merciful Draco who saved her from death, helped her to eat, and loved to watch thunderstorms. Then, there was the Draco who ridiculed her, who jinxed her, and who hated her for her bloodline alone. But was he deceitful?

On the one hand, if Snape said he was to be trusted, then he must be trusted. What's more, Snape, being a spy, was good eye for honesty, and, having known the Slytherin his entire school career, knew him better than anyone. What's more, Snape was inclined to trust no one. Therefore, if he trusted Lucius Malfoy's son, there must be a reason. Dumbledore was willing to give him a chance, and he was much wiser than her.

So what was behind his suspicious behavior? Why would one moment he call her Hermione and the next mudblood? Why would one moment he seem to share his secrets, and then yell at her for poking about? Why would he make a friendly gesture, and then revert back to his old ways? One moment he was calm and grinning, the next worried or furious. It was, she concluded, simply the most mystifying behavior she had ever witnessed. Having been best friend with Harry for quite a while, that was really saying something.

Frustrated and angry, she threw her diary (containing all of her ranting this evening had conjured) across the room and yelled in a fit of fury. After changing, she quickly picked it up as to not make unnecessary work for Knobby. Calling the house elf, she requested her cat be brought to her.

"You can wait until morning, Knobby. It's late and cold and wet out there."

"Not to worry, Miss. Knobby can do it."

"Thank you so much, Knobby."

Done with the diary notes for the evening and eyelids already heavy, she thought she'd better leave her reading for tomorrow when Draco would be out.

'Would he be with that girl?' she wondered. 'And, more importantly, why did I care? She didn't.' she answered herself. With that, she went to bed.

She awoke the next morning to find herself uncharacteristically hungry. She supposed that the dinner from last night had stretched out her stomach. However, when Knobby popped up with breakfast, she did not think she could stomach it. The sneezing house elf's face fell.

"I made it myself Miss."

"I just-I'm so sorry Knobby."

"It's alright, Miss, but Knobby is not wanting Miss to go hungry. What if Knobby makes Miss some porridge instead."

The house elf sneezed so strongly she knocked herself back wards off the edge of the bed.

"Knobby! Are you alright?"

"Yes, Miss. Knobby is fine." Her head popped back up and shook with sneezes several more times.

"I'll have that porridge now, Knobby, if you still feel like making it," Hermione offered bashfully to cheer the elf up. It worked. She instantly lit up, smiled, and bounded off to make it, babbling happily.

"Yes Miss! And Knobby can add apple and cinnamon and pears and maple and cream and sugar…"

"Knobby did you find Crookshanks?"

The elf stopped bounded and babbling. She turned slowly, ears drooping and replied: "No, Miss, but Knobby will look again this morning. Knobby will find Crook for sure today."

"Thanks Knobby."

"AHH-Cho!"

"Bless you!"

"Why thank you Miss!" the elf joyfully exclaimed.

The porridge came and Knobby swore not a single elf, friendly or not, had touched it. She informed Hermione that she had made it herself, washed all of the dishes, and even brought fresh milk, instead of tea, to drink. Unable to resist its wafting, warm fragrance any longer and very grateful to the eagerly watching elf, Hermione tucked in.

"It's delicious Knobby, thank you."

"Miss is welcome. Knobby is very glad that Miss is liking it."

"Oh yes, very much so. You're quite a skilled cook, you know."

"Thank you Miss!" the elf blushed furiously.

"Tell me something please Knobby."

"Yes Miss?"

"Have you lived here all of your life?"

"No Miss."

"Your family hasn't always been working for the Malfoys then?"

"The Malfoys have 3 families of elves; specialized elves were bought more recently. Knobby is one such elf. We are purchased before our birth and then bound to the purchaser's family to serve them forever, unless freed. Elves are rarely freed."

"Dobby was freed."

"Yes. Harry Potter saved Dobby!" the wide-eyed elf whispered secretively, as if disclosing to Hermione the location of a hidden treasure.

"Yes."

"And Knobby has not seen Dobby since." Without warning, the elf bursts into terribly morose sobs. Hermione felt her own eyes water at the pitiful sounds of the elves distress.

"Shush. No Knobby, don't cry. I-I didn't mean to upset you."

"Upset Knobby? Do not worry Miss; Knobby is just missing her brother."

"Were you two close?"

"All house elves are close. They sleeps together, eats together, works together. We does everything together."

"How wonderful."

The elf hushed and looked up at her in surprise. "Miss really thinks so?"

"Yes. I think it's lovely, Knobby. You know, at school, my friends and I were much the same as you elves."

The elf smiled the biggest grin Hermione had seen upon her and it made Hermione feel much better. It was not the victorious kind of good feeling from her investigative success, or the shallow kind when Draco was nice to her, or even the excitement at seeing Crookshanks, but genuinely good.

"Sometimes Knobby is mad at Dobby for leaving her here. Sometimes she is feeling jealous that Dobby is free. Knobby is very naughty for being that way. She punishes herself a lot. Knobby is a very bad elf."

"No! You are not a bad elf, Knobby! Don't punish yourself for feeling that way. It's only natural to want to be free like your brother and to miss him. Of course you're jealous. I would be."

"Miss would?"

"Yes." The elf gave her a watery smile.

"What is Dobby doing at Hogwarts?" she whispered again.

"He works for A- for Headmistress McGonagall. She is very kind, brave lady, but very strict… and wise as well."

"Miss knows her?"

"Oh yes. I like her very much. Dobby works for her and he takes care of the castle with the hundred other elves."

"Do they get to iron?" the elf gazed up hopefully.

"Iron? I suppose so. They do all the laundry and cooking and cleaning and keep the fires. It's lovely what all they do."

"It sounds wonderful."

"You know Knobby, if you'd like to send a letter to Dobby I could give it to him when I get to school. Would you like that?"

"Yes! Oh yes Miss Knobby would! Miss is too kind, too kind."

"You are welcome Knobby. It's the least I could do for you since you are taking such good care of me."

"Yes, Knobby would love that, but-" her face fell. "Knobby cannot read or write."

"If you tell me what you want to say I'll write it down and read it to Dobby, or, if you like," Hermione tried, and failed, to keep the hint of excitement from her voice. "I could teach you to read."

"Oh no Miss," Knobby shook her head fervently with a dark scowl upon her face. "It is against the law for Knobby be learning that."

"What? It is?" said Hermione, outraged.

"Yes, but that is alright. Knobby will be glad for Miss to give her message away. Do you what Knobby thinks, Miss?"

"What's that?"

"Knobby thinks she will maybe see Dobby again."

"I think you will as well, Knobby." Hermione offered, though doubtful.

"Knobby will go look for Miss's cat now."

"Are you sure you are feeling up to it?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Knobby will be alright Miss."

The elf slipped out and Hermione was left feeling terribly alone. For solace she sought what she always had-ah, sweet consistency- books. This forbidden book Draco had spoke of again yesterday, above all, intrigued her. She couldn't keep herself from it. For a moment that fact unnerved her. What danger came from a book?

'What about Riddles diary from second year?' she asked herself. That book's danger left her petrified for weeks. She shivered at the memory and then smiled at the thought of what had followed.

She recalled, wistfully, Harry saying: "We couldn't have done it without you, Hermione."

She hoped that when all of this was over she would hear that again from her friends. But, back to the issue at hand… Caution, once again, lost out to pure, adulterated curiosity.

What on earth had happened to Casus Malfoy? If the family had all been killed, then how had the line continued? Why was it for him they mourned if all of them died? The answers were tingling under her fingers, itching to be discovered.

So she, breaking one of her own hard and fast rules, skipped to one of the last chapters and searched for the bit that would answer everything. Eyes scanned hungrily each page until-the Malfoys were torn from their hiding place, the one she had once stood in, but it didn't stop there.

"So they were torn from their quite safety, but, to the great disappointment of the bloodthirsty mob, could not be executed right away. That was their poor fortune.

"First they had to be examined. Stripped naked before a number of investigators and clergy their bodies were searched for signs of daemon bites. They were kept up through the night and watched for suspicious signs, made to walk in circle repeatedly, driving them almost to the point of distraction. Then, witnesses came forward, selling sickening lies of the treacherous activities the family was supposedly guilty of. Strange substances were found in their home, actually magical plants used to heal neighbors who now kept silent, and used as evidence."

"They were bled openly and their blood was examined for signs of daemons and abnormalities. They were separated and interrogated. Interrogated is here used as a euphemism for torture. God alone knows what happened there.

"In the end, one of them admitted to the unheard of atrocities and revealed the hiding place of the family's wands. Six of the family out of eight was sentenced to death for witchcraft. The worst part: they were sentenced not to burning, but to hanging, the most common form of execution for withes in England at the time. Had they been sentenced to burning at the stake, they might have escaped, but, unable to apparate, chill the flames, and without their wands entirely the six were beaten, tortured, and executed. From atop the horse of the constable, Casus and his twin brother Commodus watched their family be killed before a mob. At first, the boys were confused and were reported to have said:

'Look at father being brought before the people. He must be going to make a speech. Look at all the people cheering for father. Look there is mother as well. Hello mother! Are they going to be married upon the platform?'

"When the nooses were placed upon their necks, the children began to cry.

'Why are they tying daddy up? Why are they covering his face? Don't do that Daddy can't see me; he gets worried if he can't see me.'

"As it became apparent what was about to happen the boys went into hysterics. Casus shouted out: 'No! Don't hurt them, please don't hurt them. They haven't done any harm. They haven't done any harm! Father! Give me your wand and I'll free you!'

"Casus Malfoy was executed for sorcery at age nine. His brother was forced to watch as they burned him, with no wand to escape by. By the agonized wails and desperate cries from his twin and only remaining relative, accompanied by the cheers and jeers of a delighted crowd, Commodus swore, even at that young age, to avenge his brother and never to forget what the muggles had done to his young, innocent soul.

"Commodus kept his promise, as does all of the family of Malfoy, it is said. Not long after, the Wizard's International Statue of Secrecy was passed. But still: Cicatrix Manet, the mark remains."

"Oh my God," said Hermione faintly as she stopped reading and put the book down. She was disgusted and in shock. "Cicatrix Manet." It seemed to be all she could manage.

Knobby appeared not half an hour later soaked to the bone with blue tipped fingers and chattering teeth.

"Knobby! Oh you poor thing. You're freezing. You'll be sick soon if you're not careful."

"K—Knobby is sorry Miss, Knobby is not able to find Crookshanks."

"It's alright," Hermione comforted her, ushering her to sit down. She was, however, getting very worried about the missing fuzz ball.

"Please let me make you some tea and warm you up."

"No Miss!" the elf attempted to squeak in polite protest. "Knobby, sit down."

For the next hour or so, Hermione bustled about in a very Mrs. Weasley-ish way, taking care of the sick little elf. Luckily, elves endure much better than wizards and heal even quicker. With proper care, Knobby was ready to go about her chores by tea time. Hermione skeptically let her go back to work.

Hermione, not in the least bit interested in the book for once, headed out to find that blasted cat herself.

"Bloody fur ball anyway…" she mumbled along the garden paths. "Crookshanks! Be a good little kitty and come where Hermione can find you!" she sing-song-ed.

"Did I just bloody refer to myself in third person? Crookshanks! Come on! This is getting very old. Crookshanks! CROOKSHANKS! Where could you be?" she added, her voice thick with worry.

Turning a corner too rapidly, Hermione came face-to-face with that Jacopo the bear. Despite all the claims of blindness and harmlessness she still took a very breath and froze. The bear, making an odd snorting noise, lumbered towards her, either lazily or cautiously, she couldn't tell which. As it got very close to her she couldn't help but take note how much bigger it was than she had originally thought. It sniffed her hand, and then her face! Judging by the size of its jaws, which she now had full view of, should the mood take him, the beast could, in point of fact, quite easily eat her face. She prayed, of course, that it did not while she also gave thanks for her strong bladder.

Upon close inspection, she noticed an array of scars on the bear's nose and snout. Its eyes were the milky blue of a blindness brought about by cataracts or malnutrition, unless she was very much mistaken. He was fat and well groomed, though. There were no fresh marks of an injury. Could it be that the Malfoy's had rescued this bear? Perhaps a young Draco sensed its distress and asked for it, or perhaps he just saw it and asked, like a brat, for a bear as a pet. There was truly no telling. It would be determined by whatever side of Draco was showing at the moment.

She was pulled from her musings by the nudge of a cold nose to the palm of her hand. Could it be thinking that? Could she do it? Slowly, she lifted her hand and ran it along the top of its head. The fur was delightfully soft and she could not help the smile that cam across her face. Gryffindor. The bear seemed pleased as well.

"You know, you're not so bad once you get to know you a little bit." Then, as an afterthought, she added: "Hagrid would love you." That was about all she could handle of that. She moved on in her search.

After another half hour of searching she came across the edge of the woods and, eventually, the shelter. She stopped and could not drag her eyes away from it. She pictured the family being torn from their home. Did they go quietly with dignity, or plead and cry for their children and try to escape? Was it night or day when they were discovered? Was it cloudy, or was the sun burning hot overhead?

She pictured the eight of them out in the shade of the trees, trembling, stricken with fear. She trembled herself in the dim light of the evening. She decided she had better get out of the cooler night air and into the house before it got much darker. There was no telling what may happen in the dark corners of the garden at night. On her way in she was startled by a pair of albino peacocks she nearly tripped over, as well as the sudden silhouette of the eagle Horace against the sky.

Perplexed and windblown she trudged up the stairs, but stopped on the first landing as she heard from below voices in the dinning room. That meant she had missed dinner. That also meant Draco was back, and so were her school things. She rushed to her room.

Once through her already open doorway, a happy sight met her from the corner of her staying room. There they were, sitting politely upon her desk: all of her school books neatly packaged. She ripped away the paper like it was Christmas morning. The texts smiled invitingly up at her and she grinned back. She couldn't help herself; she would begin charms tonight. There was a meek dinner alongside them, no doubt courtesy of her friend Knobby. She made room for the small meal along with her charms book on the desktop and put the other books away, the smell of the soup making her stomach rumble eagerly.

Something, however, caused her to stop. Her drawer where she kept the secret diary was open. She reached in to grab it and withdrew her hand with a jolt of shock. Something cold had touched her. No, perhaps it was something wet. Placing her hand under the light of the oil lamp, she expected to see ink, but instead the substance that covered her hands had a far fouler stench and, while similar in consistency, was red rather than black. She grabbed the bloody, misshapen diary in horror and pulled it from its hiding place. It dripped blood on the fine carpet at her feet and rolled down her arms and between fingers. She threw it, disgusted, to the floor where it flipped open to a page somewhere in the middle where a foreign object was holding it open.

Said strange object was about the size of a large walnut and seemed to be the source of the blood now seeping out of the pages onto the floor in a wicked little puddle. In unrealized horror, she crept forward to examine the object so odd and hauntingly familiar at the same time.

She screamed, then broke into hysterical sobs, befitting to a person on the closed ward of St. Mungo's rather than the calm, reserved Hermione Granger. She then turned and was sick on the floor.

As she fell to her knees and wept, clinging to her hair like a mad woman, several people burst into the room, none of them friendly by the sound of it. Lucuis Malfoy immediately demanded to be told what was going on there. His outraged was answered not by Hermione, but by Malfoy's sister-in-law. Bellatrix clapped her hands and laughed with glee, pointing merrily at the soiled spot of floor behind Hermione back.

"What is it?" he asked, as he stared unknowingly in disgust at the severed paw of Hermione's cat, Crookshanks.

A/N: Before you kill me over Crookshanks, I should like to remind you that I believe you were warned this story was dark. I mean, come on, the title of the chapter was "Sorrow and Loss". I love the cat too, and no I do not support the slaughtering of innocent house pets, however, for the purposes of this story this had to happen. Bellatrix Lestrange was in the same house as Hermione and her cat. What could I do there? Please don't quit reading now, or you'll miss Hermione's and Draco's reactions and a special guest appearance. What do see happening next? Also, regarding the execution scene, a lot of research went into that and the dramatic account itself was taken from a true story. That being said, please review! There has been a decline recently and I do need more feedback. The more reviews, the sooner the up-date. Thanks for reading!