Hermione must have fallen asleep because she was jolted awake by the sound of a door opening. It sounded heavy, she thought. It also sounded like the person opening it had to use a lot of energy to open it as she listened to them expel their breath.
"Wh-wh-why am I here?" she asked, attempting to sound scared.
The person didn't answer but she could hear them moving around the room. Then the hood flew off her head and she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. She didn't even look at the person as she quickly assessed the room. One door, she noted, about 5 feet away on her right. The entire room was probably 8 feet by 8 feet, not large at all. She'd been right about the concrete floor and stone walls. There were no windows and the only thing in the room was a flat mattress pad directly to her left. She now looked at her captor and was met with a Death Eater mask.
The episode came so quickly, she barely had time to react. Her body became to shake, more and more violently as time went on and her captor just watched her. She tried to tuck her head between her knees to keep it from hitting the stone behind her. Without the potion, the episode could last for hours and she was certain her captor didn't have any. So she sat there, trying to control her breathing and the shaking, as memories of the war flashed through her mind. She remembered vividly Bellatrix using the Cruciatus on her, over and over, as she carved Mudblood into Hermione's arm. The word on her left arm began to hurt and she cried out, unable to contain the sound any longer, the pain radiating through her body. Still, her captor did nothing but stare, she could feel the eyes on her. Minutes, hours, some amount of time later, the episode began to subside. The shaking stopped, followed by the pain, and Hermione began to draw normal breaths. She lifted her head from her lap and stared at her captor.
"What do you want?" she asked wearily. "What do you want from me?"
"Not you," the voice hissed.
They were trying to disguise their voice, she realized. By saying as little as possible and hissing a response.
"Then what do you want?" Hermione asked again. "Why did you kidnap me? What are you going to do with me?"
"Soon," was the response she received in the same voice.
It had to be someone she knew, she thought. Otherwise there would be no reason to disguise the voice. Or they didn't want her to recognize them if she somehow managed to escape.
"Show me your face," she demanded, no longer concerned with feigning fright. "Or are you too much of a coward?"
The wand was at her throat before she even finished her last word. 9 ¾, she guessed, staring at the wand, a look of fear on her face. Yew.
"I could kill you with a flick of my wrist," the captor said, the voice losing some of it's hiss now that there was anger there. "You would never see it coming."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Hermione whimpered, hiding a satisfied smile. "I didn't mean it."
The captor put away their wand and withdrew into their robes. "You'd be wise to keep quiet," the captor hissed. "You don't want to make me angry."
"No, no I don't," Hermione said passively. "Just tell me why I'm here though."
"Leverage," it said, the glee evident in the tone now, again causing the hiss to fade. "Payback."
At that, the captor flicked his wand and swept out of the room and pulled the door shut behind them.
In their haste, they'd forgotten to put the hood back on and Hermione planned to take full advantage of it. 9 ¾ Yew. She knew she'd seen that wand before but she couldn't place where. She worked in a hospital full of wands, she's survived a war and see so many different wands in the hands of so many different people she could hardly keep track. But she'd seen that wand before, that she was sure of. So she knew her captor. As her eyes scanned the room looking for weaknesses in the walls, she began to make a mental list of anyone who could have kidnapped her. There were a number, she realized, those who had been on the side of the Light during the war and those who had not. She hoped the person would come back in so she could try to draw out who they were. The longer Hermione looked around the room though, the more discouraged she became. There was nothing. No indication of a way out or where she was. The mattress pad next to her was standard during the war but you could find them anywhere since then. The only chance she had was to rest, to store up as much energy as she could, and hope that she could use wandless magic to rid herself from the ropes. Then all she'd have to do was wait, attack her captor when he or she came back in, and render them unconscious. No problem, she thought with a roll of her eyes. Deciding there was nothing else she could do, Hermione leaned left and, finding that the rope gave, she laid down on the mattress pad and tried to sleep. Her body shaking lightly every once in a while as the aftershocks of the episode ran through her. Her thoughts drifted to Draco and, with him on her mind, she was finally able to fall asleep.
Draco on the other hand hadn't slept at all and was currently pacing outside of the room where Harry was questioning his mother. They'd only been in there about 10 minutes, and he knew Blaise would care for his mother, but he was still anxious. He'd just assumed his mother wasn't in contact with his father, but she'd never told him that directly. What if she had? But even so, she couldn't have anything to do with Hermione's disappearance, Hermione helped her. Frustrated that he couldn't figure out the answer, Draco continued to pace.
Inside the room, Narcissa repeated the same answer for the four or fifth time.
"I don't speak to my husband," she said, nearly shouting at Harry. "I don't understand why you don't believe me."
"Mrs. Malfoy, copies of the letters will appear in this room any minute now," Harry told her calmly. "It's better if you just tell me what you've said to him rather than having me sit through and read them all."
"There is nothing to read," Narcissa insisted. "Because I haven't written or spoken to my husband in years."
Just then a box materialized on the desk to Harry's right. Without a word, he stood, opened the box, and quickly scanned the first four letters. He then placed them, one by one, in front of Narcissa. Blaise leaned forward to get a better look.
"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry tried again. "Why did you lie to me?"
Narcissa leaned forward and stared at the letters. She then looked to Blaise questioningly. He whispered in her ear, too quiet for Harry to hear and she then whispered back.
"Narcissa didn't write these letters," Blaise told Harry.
"You cannot possibly be serious!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm looking right at them, they're signed Narcissa Malfoy, explain to me please how it is you expect me to believe you didn't write these letters?"
Blaise pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from his bag and handed them to Narcissa. Harry looked on confused but Narcissa, understanding what Blaise wanted, wrote two sentences, then signed the letter. Blaise took it from her and handed it to Harry.
"What is this for?" Harry asked, annoyed. "How is, 'My name is Narcissa Malfoy nee Black and I write this to you' with your signature at the bottom supposed to change my mind?"
"Look at Narcissa's handwriting and signature compared to the letters you have," Blaise told him.
Harry pulled a letter toward him and spun it so the text was facing him. He then lay Narcissa's note next to the letter.
"They're different," Harry realized. "The writing is at least similar but the signature is completely wrong."
"Now do you believe me?" Narcissa asked.
"How do I know you aren't altering your handwriting now so it doesn't look the same as that of the letters?" Harry replied.
Narcissa threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "I'm certain I have old letters or journals or something with my signature on it to prove to you, Mr. Potter, that I did not write those letters," Narcissa told him. "Blaise, have Jake fetch the journal Hermione gave me."
"Yes m'am," Blaise said, rising from the table. "Not a word to Potter while I'm gone Narcissa."
Blaise stepped out of the room, leaving Narcissa and Harry alone.
"I believe you," Harry told her. "I just have to be thorough."
When Narcissa merely stared at him he sighed and continued. "Do you think your husband is aware the letters aren't from you?"
"I have no idea what my husband is aware of," she replied. "I haven't spoken to him."
"Who would do this?" Harry asked. "Who would pretend to be you to communicate with your husband in prison?"
"I have no idea," Narcissa said again. "You would have to ask that person."
They lapsed into silence and the door opened a few minutes later. Harry could see Draco angrily pacing as the door shut behind Blaise.
"Narcissa's journal," Blaise said, handing the journal to Harry. "The contents of which I trust you will not divulge."
"Of course not," Harry replied, taking the journal from Blaise and opening it. He looked at it for several minutes, comparing it both to the note Narcissa had written and the letters.
"Very well, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry told her. "Unless you can think of anything you know that could help, you're free to go."
"Thank you," Narcissa said, rising and Blaise rose with her. She turned to walk out the door but, changing her mind, turned back around and sat down.
"Let me see the letters," she requested.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Harry told her. "Only aurors can see evidence."
"Mr. Potter if I'm meant to have written them there is no one better to read them than I," she replied. "Whoever wrote it clearly knew me, knew my writing, and knew how to imitate it. Perhaps I can give you an idea of who wrote the letters."
Harry pondered her words for a minute then nodded. "Alright," Harry said. "But you cannot tell your son any of what was said in these letters. Everything remains in this room. Blaise I'll have to ask you to leave."
"Like hell," Blaise said. "I'm her advocate, you can't kick me out."
"She's no longer a suspect, she's helping with the investigation," Harry told him. "That means she doesn't need an advocate anymore."
"Blaise," Narcissa said. "Please see to Draco, I'm certain we'll have to pay to replace the carpet if he doesn't stop that pacing."
Blaise looked torn between what he felt was a professional obligation and his longtime fear of disobeying Narcissa Malfoy. Deciding fear would win this round, he rose and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Don't let him trick you into anything," Blaise said, giving Harry a look.
"Go, go" Narcissa replied, waving her hands for him to leave. "If I can handle myself in front of the Dark Lord I can certainly handle myself in front of Mr. Potter."
Harry grinned at her response and Blaise couldn't help but chuckle. "Fine," he answered. "I'm leaving," and he walked out of the room.
Alone again, Harry and Narcissa began to read through the box of letters.
A/N: Look at everyone working together so nicely! Hermione brings out the best in people even when she isn't there! :)