When the muse strikes, I like to take advantage of it. Here's the next installment. Part of Draco's flashback comes from Rowling's Deathly Hallows – just a disclaimer. Warning – some minor violence in this chappie. Oh, and thank you guys so much for reading, altering and reviewing! Hugs.

LCailan

CHAPTER FOUR

-Three weeks later-

Hermione's nights since leaving Hogwarts had been little more than a rough collage of nightmares. She had spent nights dreaming of her parents, their faces sad and confused. There had been Ron's infectious laughter and then the screams for help while the fire had burned around him and he had been immobile, unable to help himself. Even Harry had sometimes made an appearance though all she could recall now was his screams, the last real memories Hermione would ever have of him. Those nightmares were also made up of slitted reptilian eyes – eyes she would never forget. The eyes of a soulless wizard who had taken the lives of her friend and husband, her family, her mentors, a wizard who had stolen her whole life. All she knew now was pain. The pain of loss, of confusion, of hopes and dreams that would never come to fruition.

No, Hermione was no stranger to nightmares; they were like a kaleidoscope made up of all the colors of her fears; a horrid scrapbook of snapshots throughout the years, each one more frightening than the last. It was ironic then, that they finally came for her while she was asleep and not dreaming at all.

"Confringo!"

The doors to the crowded flat were blown open in a terrible explosion, pieces falling here and there, and three of them rushing in, holding their wands aloft. It was hot, steaming hot. Hermione was rattled awake and jumped up, pushing sweaty, russet hued curls out of her sticky face. She had only a moment to gaze into Lily's terrified eyes before they rushed into the room and turned on the overhead lamp throwing harsh, white color into the horrific nightmare. She stared, mouth hanging open, heart pounding viciously. Except that it wasn't a nightmare any longer. They were there – how many of them? Two? No, three. She was confused and scared. Hermione couldn't recall the last time she had been this scared.

"Get up!"

One of them, the speaker, was so scarred she couldn't tell what he looked like, and the others tore the two boys from Ginny's arms and shoved them against the crumbling plaster walls of the bedroom. Hermione refused to allow them to touch her and she managed to get to her feet, lifting Lily with her and clinging to the tiny child who was trembling underneath her thin undershirt.

"Mamma!"

It was Albus' terror colored voice that finally brought Hermione's tears, and she put her hands over Lily's ears and cradled her away from her older brother so that the child wouldn't look, wouldn't hear the strained sobs as the another one of them whacked the boy over the head with what looked like a thin walking stick. It made a sickening crack and Albus crumpled to the floor with a whimper.

"Anyone else want to cry?"

The question was nasty and it implied pain. Hermione prayed silently that Lily not cry and her wide brown eyes locked with Ginny's across the room. Her friend was holding her oldest boy, but the reflection in her eyes broke Hermione's heart. To watch your own child suffer had to be the most difficult thing in the world. From this, at least, Hermione had been spared. She could not comprehend the pain that Ginny was silently enduring.

"Go!"

They were shoved violently from the room, the two women clinging to the children and Hermione nearly ran into Arthur who soothed her even though it was clear they had done a number on him from the bruise that was rising up along his thin weathered face. Still his eyes seemed calm.

Lily was crying softly and with a renewed bout of terror, Hermione kissed the top of her soft hair. She smelled sweet – like sugar and sunshine – like a child. She breathed in her calming scent, kissing her again.

"Shhh…my darling. We mustn't cry. We can't cry, all right? Everything will be just fine, you'll see."

But she didn't believe her own words and could only hope that Lily was too young to tell. The Ministry officials lined them up in the decimated remains of their front room and one of them cast a binding charm on the men so that they could not move.

"Weasleys, eh? Blood traitors."

The words were punctuated with kicks to Percy and George's shins which made James cry out.

"Let them alone!"

His eyes were bright green in the dim lighting of the broken lamp and his face was a long ago reflection of Harry's, which made Hermione's heart twitch with joy and break into a thousand pieces all in one poignant moment.

They knocked into him, pushing him and tripping him so that the little boy fell. Still he let out no cry, only getting to his feet defiantly. James was the oldest and he had always understood the most. He knew why his father had died and he knew what had gone wrong. Perhaps not understood, but knew the way a young child would.

The one with the scarred face yanked Ginny by her long red hair.

"Bitch, tell your child to bloody shut his trap or I'll do it for'im!"

Hermione wanted to cry out and she was ashamed that her own growing fear made any words fade in her sticky hot throat. Ginny's eyes spilled over as she lost all color and groaned from the pain of the sharp tug.

"James…J-james, please, you must…must be quiet."

Her words were wracked with fear and pain and she reached to hold her confused and angry son in shaking arms.

In the other room Albus stirred and then looked up at the others with wide, fear filled eyes, his voice ringing out in the room, crying for his momma. Hermione could see him struggling to get to his feet although with such a hit on the head she wondered how he even could and if he would suffer irreparable damage from such abuse. Her tears rolled down her face in silence as she clung to Lily. They were both sweating now from the oppressive heat, and Hermione felt icy cold from the fear that threatened her. She could only breathe in the scent of Lily's hair and the soured smell of her own sweat.

"Mamma!"

Albus was rooted to the spot in the far room, the trembles of fear wracking his tiny body.

"Mamma!"

Ginny, terrified, cried out to him.

"Albie, baby it's going to be fine."

"Mamma!"

Once more that cry echoed in their ears and George struggled against his magical bonds, his eyes flashing with hatred at their captors. The three men in Ministry cloaks laughed amongst each other and one of them turned towards Albus. Hermione wasn't sure if it was that or if it was the unfairness of it all, but she suddenly found her voice.

"Leave him alone! I'm the one you want!"

Her shriek stopped them in their tracks, and the scarred one turned, a leer on his face.

"Is that right?"

Hermione's heart hammered as she swallowed, praying she had enough saliva to make the next words clear.

"Leave him alone. I'll go. Let these others go."

They laughed at her, and the one who had spoken first moved to the other room, towards Albus who stared back in sheer terror. Something inside Hermione snapped at the movement and she quickly handed Lily down to Ginny and rushed at the Ministry official with determination.

"Don't touch him!"

Her words were jerked a bit when her fist connected with his back, and just as she thought she had a grip on the coat, on something of his to keep him from hurting Albus further, she felt herself being flung back with violence, falling onto the hard ground with a strange choking sound. Pain ripped through her side and she tasted blood where her teeth had bitten into her tongue with the impact of her body against the ground.

The official sneered at her, pointing his wand.

"Stupid mudblood bitch."

Hermione prayed for death – even if it was a selfish prayer.

"Crucio."

That scream again - Draco heard it in the stillness of the night which had until that moment only been shattered by his Hit Squad. Others had gone this way already - they had ransacked several other known mudblood slums in the last three weeks and each time the reactions were the same - indignation, anger, and then finally the breaking. The tears and the begging. None of them lasted too long, none of his squad ever had to actually hurt someone, though Merlin knew none of them gave a damn whether they did so or not. In fact, most of them lived for the sport - they loved torturing and hurting.

After all, these were dirty bloods - they didn't matter any more.

The pain of others had hardly ever affected Draco in the past; it was still the same now, he simply had taught himself many years before to not care. When that had changed, he did not know.

If it's changed. I don't even know if it's changed or if its just her.

He was standing outside the cluster of cramped and seedy flats - all run down with peeling pain and crumbling walkways and stairs - and he knew that she was there. Granger. And once again, just like it were yesterday, he heard those same plaintive screams - as if his thoughts had conjured her pain.

Her screams had never truly died in the banks of his memories and his nightmares had kept them alive all these years. The night in Malfoy Mansion had been replayed so often in Draco's mind it was like a worn movie, a reel that skipped and jumped but was vividly and horribly still whole in his mind. There were certain things, moments in his life Draco would never forget.

The way he had felt when Voldemort had taken up residence inside the only place he had ever called home, destroying what had already been weak and uncertain familial bonds.

The expression on his father's face each time Voldemort had deemed pay him attention – Draco had never up until those moments seen his father cower in fear.

And of course – her screams.

Draco had known it was them when the Snatchers had brought them to the Mansion – he had known from the moment that Potter had been dragged into the room, and therefore logically it calculated that the two with him were Granger and Weasley.

I knew it was them. Why did I lie?

His fists were clenched as he looked up through the hazy darkness at the single light in the rundown flat.

He recalled the looks on their faces; Potter's defiant glare and Ron's terror – but it was Granger's eyes he remembered the most. The fear had not outweighed her desire to defy him. To defy all of them. Even the thought of that night filled him with sickening dread. His father's hunger had been palpable, Bellatrix's bloodlust evident. His mother had been cold. And Draco himself?

I hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore. I couldn't have just turned them over to die like that, could I? How could anyone?

He was afraid, however, that the others would have disagreed – many would have done what he could not have. Memories assaulted him.

"Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"

He had been fearful.

"I don't know."

A lie. A bloody lie.

"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback. All except….except the Mudblood."

He had been rooted in his place by a blazing fire that added no light to the shadowy room. Bellatrix's voice had horrific implications. Weasley had screamed. But it was nothing compared to the long, drawn out cries of the tortured girl.

"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? WHERE?"

In that moment Draco had been unable to turn, to face the scene with Granger and his Aunt, afraid of what his face would have revealed. No one in the room had spoken, and the only sound was that awful, piercing scream…

"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it. You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"

He had winced. Winced but remained statue still, avoiding the sound of his mother's voice to come join her, and ignoring all other sounds in the room, hearing only her screams.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"

He had fought to keep the trembling inside of him at bay and his eyes had watered as the torture continued, as he listened to her sobbing and whimpering and crying out in pain that he could not understand – had never experienced. He had wanted to turn around, to tell Bellatrix to stop, to leave her alone. To scream at Granger too, telling her to give in so the madness would stop. And from downstairs he had heard Weasley's sobbing. He recalled wishing that he too, could sob. It had been impossible to fathom such pain and to have to listen to it – when it had finally been over, the room silent, Granger's breathing hitched – they had insisted he go to get the disgusting looking goblin from the lower cellars where they had shoved all their prisoners. Where Potter and Weasley were, and Draco had been afraid. Afraid to see Granger and lay eyes on Weasley.

She had barely been stirring then – gray and ashen from the strain on her body. As if dead. He had gone to the cellars to fetch the goblin and his eyes had never met those of the other two boys. And in the end when Bellatrix had allowed Greyback to dispose of Granger he had wanted to help her – to soothe her pain even if it was only a fraction of relief. But he hadn't. Fear had stopped him.

Why had she needed to be so bloody stubborn? So loyal to her stupid friends – so willing to sacrifice her own life for theirs? Merlin's beard virtuous people make me sick!

"Malfoy!"

The voice called down to him in the midnight heat breaking into his troubled thoughts.

"There's trouble here!"

His eyes flickered up to the broken cement steps and he took them one by one, heavily moving towards the entrance to the flat.

Hermione cradled her throbbing, sweaty face in the palms of her trembling hands, her messy curls obscuring her vision. She bit her lip to keep from crying out more than she already had – although she had fought valiantly against the pain of the cruciatus curse inflicted on her. She had crumbled into the corner of the decimated room, whimpering and sobbing, scurrying and crawling back like some kind of insignificant insect. There she sat, trembling – waiting for what was next. Why did they not kill her? Why not just do what they had come from? Why put the rest of her family through this unnecessary pain?

But of course, in this world, nothing made sense anymore.

She could hear Arthur and his sons struggling against their bonds and Ginny whispering to James and Albus. Then there were footsteps and more of them came into the room though she hardly had strength to lift her head.

"What happened here?"

She knew it was Malfoy's voice that spoke those words – they were cold and unemotional.

"I asked you to bring them down to the carts, not to make a fucking mess!"

The words were punctuated by the sound of his kicking around the remnants of what had been the Weasley's only possessions now gone like everything else that was slowly being destroyed in this new world.

"Get up!"

Hermione could not move, however. She heard Ginny's moans as she managed to stand, keeping her children close to her. There was the shuffling as she moved through the mess on the floor. Hermione, pain ringing through every inch of her, was helplessly sprawled in that same place in the dusty corner.

"Weasleys?"

Draco's questioning was not answered and in the tense silence Hermione dared to glance up for a second. He stood there, wand raised at her family, his face a pale visage within which glowed too bright eyes and a cold sneer. He began to walk past them, glaring at each one for a few silent seconds and then snorted.

"Always too many of you blood traitors left. Shame that pureblood families would lower themselves to protecting those who are nothing."

Malfoy moved past the men and then stopped nearest to where Ginny stood. One of the other ones spoke.

"The boys are strong, Mr. Malfoy. We could send them to Azkaban. They are always looking for strong children there."

Ginny whimpered at the sound of the scarred man's voice for it seemed that he was positively bursting with anticipation. Hermione could only imagine what horrors waited for those send to Azkaban now. The thought made her want to weep outright, but she did not even have the strength to muster tears. The three Ministry officials with Malfoy began to pull the two boys away from their mother and Hermione wished she was deafened so she wouldn't have to hear their cries of terror. Even James had broken now.

"The girl?"

Lily stared up at the officials, green eyes wide but she remained blessedly silent.

"She is too young to go to Azkaban, eh? And she is a wee thing that. No use for her. She should get the Kiss – that'll get rid of her all right."

The other two unnamed men tittered at this and Lily buried her face against her mother's breast. Hermione struggled then, moved a little, moved forward with the strength she had left.

"Wait, that's – no. She's…she's old enough. She…"

Hermione had no clue what these abominations believed was the right age, and what children were made to do but she felt the need to help in some way.

"She's…she's six!"

The lie was out of her mouth before she could take it back, but thankfully no one said anything – not giving away Lily's true age. The man nearest them snorted in nasty laughter.

"Six? Bloody arse. She looks barely four. I say give her to the dementors. Short work that will be."

Ginny began to openly cry and Hermione stumbled to help her friend. The little boys had already been dragged out into the night along with the men, leaving the two women and Lily in the room alone with the Ministry officials. It was hot and oppressive and stunk of fear and sweat.

"She is six!"

But now Hermione's voice was weaker, trembling. There was a silence and then Malfoy spoke, watching Lily closely.

"Send her down with her mother. She is old enough then."

The three officials glared at Malfoy but none dared to go against him and then Hermione found herself staring up into his pale, tight face. She flashed back to the moment in the street, his white hands helping her with her sandwiches. Again this strange kindness that she had not expected.

His eyes flashed dangerously.

"Get up."

The order was cold and as hard as she tried, Hermione couldn't muster the strength needed in her legs to do any good. She tried and then crumbled twice before lowering her head in defeat.

His grip on her thin upper arm was firm and sure.

"Mudblood. All this to protect you?"

His words held disdained disbelief, and when she was able to stand without his assistance, Hermione yanked away from his touch and the words that followed her actions sickened her. They were too close and Hermione could smell him – cigarettes and the musky scent of night heat.

"I am a Mudblood. And I'm the one you want not them! Let them go, Malfoy!"

There was that defiance once more, the defiance he had seen the night at the Mansion. The defiance that seemed to shine in the depths of despair ridden cinnamon eyes. Her flushed and sweaty face was colored with fear and anger, and he chose to ignore her, lowering his eyes for a moment.

"Being a blood traitor is just as great a sin."

He pushed her with his wand, ordered her to move and Hermione began to stumble from the tiny stale room towards the exit. She was dizzy with grief and pain and the fact that she had lowered herself to using the term 'mudblood' when she had sworn to never succumb to that title, to the belief that she was less than he was.

They stared at one another in that oppressive silence, neither speaking. In spite of her hopeless situation, the fact that her life hung in the balance she would not break. She continued to stare at him, and in some way, he found her to be glorious amidst such adversity.

"Move."

She defied his order, her only movement being the hitch of her breathing.

"Let them go, and I will do as you say."

Something in her words angered him and Draco reached out to yank her forward, so that she was helpless to do anything but stare up at him.

"Are you stupid? Or just deaf?"

His words were an ominous hiss and his eyes glittered as he narrowed them. He gave her a gentle shove towards the door that led outside and then raised his wand.

"Do you not understand that I have the power to have Potter's offspring destroyed? The power to kill you as you stand there?"

He turned from her and Hermione wondered what had just come over him.

"Lily is only a child…they're all just children. Innocent children."

Her words were a plaintive sob and Draco whirled on her in his anger.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Granger?"

Her name. He had used her name.

"I know she's a child! I send her downstairs with her mother. Now move! Move before I change my mind!"

His face was white, and his eyes showed no mercy and suddenly Hermione was afraid. Quickly she moved down the crumbling stairs towards the carts that waited in the musky darkness where she would be just one amongst the many lost and confused. She could only hope that Draco Malfoy would not change his mind – that he had kept Lily alive and did not plan on hurting her. It was all she could hope for now.