Thanks guys for all your continued readership. And to EStruck who took the time out of her insane schedule to read and review this story up to it's most recent update, thank you; I really appreciate it and though I'd let you know here. It's daunting once you see the length. To those who have done the same and I don't know about it, I thank you too. This update contains violent imagery and dark themes. Just a warning.
LCailan
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
For a moment, all was silent and the sad wind echoed along the sides of the buildings that lined the lonely, riverside alleyway. Draco stared down at the ground where Marcus Flint lay dead and then his eyes swiveled towards the horrific sight of his wife who lay in a crumpled heap, her face pressed against the snow.
Both were inarguably dead, Flint's large, calloused hand brushing against Astoria's tiny, perfectly manicured one. It was a strange, twisted tableau of love gone wrong for they were tied together in death more than they ever had while living. Draco grimaced.
It's how she wanted it. I never knew her; I never knew the woman who took my name because if I had I would have known she had loved him.
It was something Draco would not deny for seeing Astoria jump to Flint's defense mindlessly had spoken more than any words ever could. Draco couldn't move at the realization terrified as each precious second slipped between his fingers. The terror suddenly jolted him back into action and he looked up, his eyes widening.
Hermione stood framed at the entrance of the alley, the street behind her blessedly empty. It was the only thing to be thankful for, Draco realized. Had anyone else witnessed what had just transpired he was sure they would have both been long dead.
"Give me that," he urged, training his intent, silvery gaze at Hermione who stood still as death, the only sign of life in the glimmering tears that rolled down her pale cheeks.
"I didn't…oh, Gods…I-I didn't mean to-"
A part of Hermione sang a strange song of empowerment and triumph while another part warred against her satisfaction, for the ugly reality was before her. She had killed a man. No matter that he had been hateful and sadistic, out to get her and destroy her life. Still, she had killed a man. It didn't seem real; the situation was like something out of the horrific nightmares that had plagued her for many, long years. The fact that she had used a wand, and an Unforgivable was bad enough. What was worse was the fact that she had done so willingly.Her mind fought against it but Hermione felt herself falling back into the recollection of the day in the row houses when Flint had made her torture all the imprisoned Muggle-borns. She had not forgotten the pain she had caused them and their faces were forever imprinted in her mind.
Now the source of her pain and nightmares lay dead on the frosty ground never to hurt another soul. She stared at him unbelievingly for a few moments, her heart threatening to pound so hard it would leap out of her chest and she fought a battle between elation and terror. Marcus Flint was dead; she hadn't meant to kill him and yet she had. It would not bring back the child she had lost but at least she had nothing to fear from him any longer.
"Give me that."
Draco's voice broke through her reverie and only then could she look up into his somber eyes. At his gentle request she felt herself relinquishing the wand although her frozen fingers didn't want to open.
"We've got to go."
His words were an urgent whisper and even though he gently pulled her forward, Hermione's feet would not move and her body seemed to have been petrified.
"They're all dead?" she managed to ask, looking around at the stark scene of death before her.
There hadn't been enough time to think! Draco had attacked Marcus and Astoria had pushed Pansy into the line of fire. And then…dead. Astoria had been dead and…
I killed someone!
"Hermione, please…we've-we've got to hurry. The Ministry will…"
She could hardly hear the urgency, the terror in Draco's voice. Only when he raised his voice and told her they might diedid she begin to walk. It wasn't even a walk really, but a stumble. Holding onto Draco, Hermione felt herself lumbering forward as if she were a machine and not a flesh and blood human being.
It was then that they both saw the stirring on the ground. Pansy was awakening.
"We've got to help…"
Draco was on the ground as Hermione finished uttering the words knowing that now, more than ever, time was of the essence. Each second wasted was one the Ministry gained. And he knew that the Executioners would be after whoever had used his wand. Most of them probably believed he was dead…at least several days now.
But if they arrived here and saw him-
I don't want to think of it. But I can't leave her!
"Help me," he said, his teeth chattering and with clumsy, trembling fingers he pulled Astoria's cloak from her lifeless form and draped it around Pansy who was mumbling incoherently. The curse hadn't killed her; she had simply been stunned. Muttering under his breath, Draco uttered a charm to make Pansy weightless and then he stood, feeling himself unsteady on his feet.
"We can't waste another moment. We've got to get her somewhere for help and then…"
Hermione had to disappear. In the forefront of his mind that single thought was paramount for he had no misconceptions about the Ministry.
I can hold them off until she's safe, and then I'll deal with them. I can do this. I owe her that at least, and my life at best.
"Come on," he urged once more, staring intently towards the street which still seemed empty. A few Muggle-repelling charms and no one would venture into this part of the alley but the Ministry would still be seeking him and Draco found himself terrified at what would happen if he should get caught.
Just then there was an audible crack from behind them and he whirled around to see three black, cloaked figures dashing towards them, wands raised.
"RUN!"
He shoved Hermione forward, shielding her escape with his body just as the alleyway lit up with flashing once more although this time Draco was much, much more scared. He ran, slipping at first and the gaining footing and momentum and the sound of his raging heart melted with the thumping of Ministry boots against snow-covered ground.
"RUN!"
He dodged one curse then another.
Hermione reached the street and he hoped against hope that somehow she would be free, that she could run although he had no clue where she would go. He only hoped-
Turning, he spun and slipped on the icy path, shooting one well-aimed spell at the man that led the chase. The counter-curse sent him reeling and Draco dropped his wand and flew through the air before hitting the cold, hard ground with a groan of pain. Something exploded against the side of the building and he heard Hermione's scream cut off in one, horrifying moment.
Then, there was nothing.
The Executioners had found the bodies.
"You heard didn't you? Astoria orchestrated the whole thing so that she could be with Marcus Flint-"
"-tragic really it is. Malfoy finding out that his wife was cheating on him with someone like Marcus-"
"-the way I heard it was that Malfoy orchestrated the whole thing so that he would have a good enough reason to kill his own wife-"
"-seems to me like Marcus and Astoria were having an affair and wanted to die together-"
Bellatrix Lestrange stalked up and down the marbled floor of one of the courtrooms in the bowels of the Ministry. She was sick of the rumors. She was tired of the whispered conversations. But most of all she was livid that her own flesh and blood, her silly, misguided nephew had managed to fool her!
Back and forth she moved and no one dared to get in her way lest she curse them. Indeed her wand was clasped tightly in one white-knuckled fist.
Stupid, self-entitled imbecile! How is it that my blood flows in his veins?
"Where is he?"
The screech sounded in the room and Bellatrix turned, her black eyes shining with mania.
"Where is that despicable nephew of mine?"
Someone cleared their throat.
"He's being brought down now, Madame Lestrange."
For a few long moments there was nothing but the sound of her shoes against the marbled flooring and then the sound of chains and scuffling. Bellatrix stopped and whirled to face the two double doors that flew open.
Dolohov and Fenrir stood framed in the doorway both still wearing snow-covered black robes and in between them was Draco bound and chained tightly. Even so, he struggled, making angry, animalistic sounds.
Bellatrix smiled.
Hermione tasted blood. It was the first real, waking thought she had…
Am I dead? Where am-
She looked around and found that she was in a small cell with large, rusted metal bars. The space beyond was empty, the cement walls a drab gray color. She blinked and tried to move and that was when she realized she was chained to the wall. Glancing up, Hermione could see a faint glint of light from a small window near the top of her new prison.
There was nothing else in the room…no bed, no sink, no place to sit.
Where am I?
"D-Draco-"
Her voice was hoarse and Hermione found her throat was raw. When no one answered her, she felt the sting of hot tears prickle her eyes. It wasn't that she feared being alone; she had gotten used to that long ago. It was simply that this time, it was different. This time she had been so close to freedom, so close to hope that she had nearly grasped onto it and held tight, unlike all the others times and failed moments in her life since the fall of the old Ministry.
She shifted, groaning as a sudden flash of pain ripped through her battered body. For a second she couldn't quite remember how she had gotten to this point but then the whole horrible recollection hit her and this time she did cry.
She had killed a man with Draco's wand and now…now the Ministry-
Oh, God! Draco, I'm sorry. Draco…
There was nothing but the rattle of her chain which bound her like the prisoner she now was.
Bellatrix's sharp gazed never faltered from the bloody and bruised face of her nephew. She took long, purposeful strides around the chair to which they had bound him but each time she would return to face him again, glaring at him without mercy.
"I'll ask you again," she hissed.
Draco did not move, dropping his head and avoiding the gazes of those in the room. He tasted blood and he felt the aching of every muscle in his body. He knew they had beaten him but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered to him was that Hermione was no longer with him. What had they done to her? Where was she now?
Where is she? If they hurt her, I'll-
"I've let much go, Draco. Because you're my family and because you're such an asset to this organization and the plan of our Lord. I reconciled your strange choices this past year. I've accepted your excuses and your bizarre behavior. We tried to understand that what happened a few weeks ago at the alienage could not be helped. And I believed it when Miss Parkinson said you were dead."
She tapped her wand against the inside of her outstretched palm and it made a cracking sound in the silence of the huge room.
"But here you are…alive and seemingly well, yes? For some reason unknown to me and the rest of the Ministry, you've staged your own death, have you not?"
Draco did not reply and it made the woman standing laugh.
"It doesn't matter if you speak or not, Draco. The time to talk has ended. Now is the time to pay for everything you have done. Speak or don't speak, nothing will change."
Draco looked up to see the glittering eyes of his aunt peering into his own and it made him shudder. Fear was something he had long ago accepted and lived with. In fact perhaps it had been there long before the fall of the Ministry. But now it was palpable; it was a physical thing and not just an emotion and he felt it cripple him.
"And of what should I speak?"
His voice was hoarse and broken. He was weak and he hated himself for it.
The woman turned monster offered a smile that wasn't really a smile but more of a ghastly grimace.
"You can start by telling me what you were doing with that filthy Mudblood and why you are both still alive."
Draco groaned but said nothing, pulling a bit on the chains that bound him and left the chance of escape hopeless. The witch leaned down and used one perfectly manicured finger to tip Draco's chin up, leaving him with nothing to do but gaze into her face.
"I will not tolerate insubordination. Make no mistake, Draco. You are no better than anyone else in this Ministry. You faked your death. What happened at the alienage was your fault. You killed your wife and another Ministry official. And you convinced one of my closest officials to lie and cover for you."
Draco blinked but still remained silent, outwardly calm although a storm raged within him.
"Explain yourself."
The words were pointed and allowed for no misinterpretation. Bellatrix smacked her wand against the palm of her hand and then let out a strange laugh.
"If you do not, I'll have Fenrir deal with you."
She offered a smile to the wolf-like man who was grinning in the darkened corner of the courtroom. Draco made no sound and his face registered no emotion. In spite of feeling a deep-seated revulsion for Fenrir, Draco had long ago stopped fearing men like him.
"Nothing?" she questioned casually though anyone who looked closer could see that the wild haired witch was starting to crack just a bit. She snapped her fingers towards Fenrir.
"I'll find out what I want. One way or another."
Draco sat stone still, still bound by the chains to the old, wooden chair. His blood ran cold as his aunt's voice echoed through the room.
"Take me to the Mudblood. Now!"
Hermione couldn't breathe. Staring at Bellatrix Lestrange was like being in a room without oxygen. Her vision blurred with each passing second and at first she was taking full breaths but within moments she was gulping for air.
The woman on the other side of the bars stared at Hermione calmly. Her heavily lidded eyes took in the surroundings in a bored fashion and there was no emotion on her sharp, pale face although her thin fingers clenched the bars before her tightly.
"Marcus Flint and Pansy Parkinson were two of my best officials," she was saying in a voice that bellied softness and put Hermione on edge. The younger witch could only stare, for she was still bound tightly to the cement wall on the other side of her prison.
"Makes me wonder…makes anyone wonder how it was that all those Mudbloods escaped the alienage. Don't you think? I had been so sure that I put the right people in charge. In fact, I still think I made the right choices. The question remains…what happened that night?"
Bellatrix cocked her head, her face one of innocent curiosity that masked murderous intent. Hermione stared over her mane of wild, black hair keeping her face expressionless. Inside, her heart was hammering wildly and she could only hope that those that had escaped, all those in the WERA, Ginny and the children had gotten a good enough start to outrun the Ministry. If only that, she decided, then her own death would be worth it.
When she finally met the eyes of the Death Eater, Hermione could see her own death painted there. Maybe she'd join Ron and Harry sooner than she could ever have hoped. Perhaps she'd see Justin soon. The only regret she would have is leaving Draco behind.
"Don't have anything to say, do you?"
There was a click and a swish and the cell door swung open, creaking in the cavernous room just as Bellatrix stepped forward, towards Hermione. The woman chained did not flinch, instead lifting her chin defiantly and still refusing to speak.
"Over half of the Mudbloods escaped," she began, her voice a mere hiss as her eyes glittered in the shadowy space. "I have the Ministry on a chase after them as I speak. I'll find them."
Hermione felt a cool pressure and realized it was the other woman's wand that was beginning to uncomfortably dig into her shoulder. She glanced up swallowing back her fear. Bellatrix continued.
"For so many of them to escape under the eyes of my best officials they had to have had advance notice of what was going to happen. Now where would they have gotten that advance notice, hmmm?"
Hermione let out a cry of pain as Bellatrix yanked her forward savagely, pulling her by her hair. She closed her watery eyes. So this was it. She would die and for a moment she flashed back to all those nights she had prayed for death.
I've prayed for death so many nights? Why I am afraid then?
Bellatrix smacked her wand against the side of Hermione's already tender cheek.
"Do you think I'm stupid, you insignificant, disgusting piece of filth?"
I'm coming home, Ron! Oh, Ron! Tell Harry and Molly I'm coming home! I'll be with all of you and Justin soon!
Hermione refused to speak, pressing her lips and eyes tightly as she felt her whole scalp burn with pain as she was being yanked forward by Bellatrix's anger. Only one other time she had felt like this. Only one other time…
"Tell me, Mudblood…"
Hermione began to mewl.
"It wasn't m-me. I don't know who it was!"
For some strange reason Hermione found herself clinging desperately to the hope that she wouldn't die. Not quite yet. But what choice did she really have now? She would never rat out the WERA, she would never tell what Justin had told her or ever implicate Draco in any of what had happened. She would die for them; she would die for him.
Suddenly the pain stopped and Hermione felt herself go limp against the coolness of the cement. Then, just as she opened her eyes she felt the crack against her jaw bone and the searing pain of the smack.
"Let me ask you again, you filthy bitch!"
Hermione pressed her lips together tightly staring at Bellatrix with tear-filled, pain-ridden eyes. But she said nothing.
"Have it your way."
Hermione braced herself for pain, for a beating, for the Cruciatus Curse but at first there was nothing and then she was alone. She opened her tear-logged eyes and felt herself shiver.
What's next?
Pansy stared at her boss, her eyes wide with the realization of what she was being asked. Bellatrix stared back at Pansy with a smile that should have been pleasant but instead was menacing.
"Must I repeat myself, Miss Parkinson?"
She stared at her wand with a bored expression.
"I want you to go in there and get the Mudblood to tell us everything she knows. You want to be exonerated for what happened that night, don't you? You want everyone to believe it wasn't you that caused the breakout?"
Pansy licked her dry, cracked lips, hating the way her voice sounded.
"It-it wasn't me," she squeaked. Gods, she hated her own weakness and the fact that all her actions reeked of fear!
"Well then…this will be the proof you need!"
Pansy felt the insides of her belly churn with disgust and fear and she realized that her conscience had never died but had been dormant for years, awakened only recently and now raging with a burning indignation. The worst thing was that no matter how she tried, it would not be silenced. He fear won the battle inside of her.
"H-have Draco do it."
Her whisper was clear and it made Bellatrix laugh with surprise and cold amusement.
"You weak little chit," she chastised. "Don't you have control over your weakened emotions?"
The question hung in the air and it made Pansy's already tortured soul cry out in frustration.
"I'm not weak!" she shot back hatefully. How she hated Draco! How she loathed his existence and yet could not deny that he was her downfall and weakness. How she hated the fact that when he walked into a room nothing else mattered! It was because of him that she was in this position! It was because of him that all of this had happened!
"It's his job! It's HIS alienage!"
Bellatrix's eyes narrowed.
"You dare defy me?"
There was nothing but the hammering of Pansy's heart. Bellatrix raised her wand.
"I do not trust him. I fear that Mr. Flint was right the entire time and I have allowed my human weakness to rule me. I will not be fooled again. I won't have him in the same room with her."
She glared at Pansy, daring the younger woman to defy her.
"Go in there and get her to tell you everything she knows. Use any means necessary; I don't care if she lives or dies. When she finishes serving her purpose I plan on giving her to Fenrir as a plaything. She deserves a prize for the work he's been doing."
Pansy paled; she worked hard against the bile in her throat lest she retch all over the place. Trembling she turned towards the massive doors that led to the chambers where Granger was being held prisoner. Bellatrix was at her ear, whispering raggedly.
"Remember, any means necessary. I want to know what I can about the WERA. I want to know who was responsible for the breakout. I want to know where they are and I know that little bitch knows something. And that's why I don't trust Draco; he's been protecting her. I know it. Get her to tell you; get her to tell you everything."
Tears prickled behind Pansy's eyes.
"I can't," she muttered thickly and something sparked in Bellatrix's eyes.
"Then poor Draco dies. In fact, he might already be by now and this time for real. Do what you know you have to, Pansy."
Pansy swallowed, feeling trapped. She faced the doors wondering why she had ever believed she was free to do as she liked her whole life when the reality was that she had always been a prisoner.
The only antidote to mental suffering is physical pain; Draco lay on the ground somewhere within the Ministry buildings free to move but unable to do so. His body was battered and pain-ridden and somehow, during those long, innumerable moments, the Executioners had managed to make him forget his fear and despair over Hermione Granger.
At first it had been well placed kicks and smacks to his body, causing him to wince and cry his pain aloud. Still, he would not speak or admit to anything. Then they had unbound him and the torture had truly started.
His pains were individual at first but after awhile he no longer knew what was happening and one ran into the other until his body sang a mournful, discordant song of suffering. They kicked and dragged him along the dirty, wet ground. They bruised him in places he had already been bruised; they cut him so that he bled. The mocked and derided him just like he was nothing.
I am nothing! I am nothing if I'm not aligned with them and it took this to make me realize it!
He closed his eyes against the onslaught but the more he resisted the harder they worked to break him. Some tore at his hair as they smacked him across the face. The others used their wands. There were only three, Draco knew, led by Fenrir Greyback, but it seemed like there were dozens and he was the only one trying to fight them. One against all the pain in the world.
"Come now, Draco," hissed Fenrir. His breath smelled of rancid flesh and through the searing aches, Draco gagged. "Is all of this worth whoever you're protecting?"
There was another harsh kick to Draco's lower body. He whimpered.
"I-I told you already….I-I don't know-know anything," he managed to spit out amidst breathing through his pain.
In the midst of all his suffering Draco began to feel a new, searing pain along his arm and Fenrir's hot, disgusting breath against his battered flesh.
"Are you sure about that?"
The words were muffled and Draco smelled blood.
Oh, Gods, is he biting me?
Draco felt his vision blur from hot tears of helplessness as he tried to crawl, to move, to squirm away from the source of his pain.
That depraved, sick fuck!
He took in a sharp breath of shock as another sliver of pain ran down his twisted arm and he felt his flesh tearing.
"Let me go!" he shrieked, kicking against Fenrir…against all of them although they held him down and the pain continued.
"Tell us what we want to know," said Greyback, pulling away and then delving in again, anew.
Draco screamed, the sound echoing along the stone walls.
Hermione gasped, struggling against her bonds.
"They sent you?" she asked in a whisper.
She had been sure that Death was near; perhaps it had taken the form of Bellatrix. But now…
Pansy sneered as she glared down at the fallen witch, taking in her pallid skin and the mess of dirty, chestnut-colored curls framing her face and falling along her thin shoulders. She wanted to feel disgust and contempt but the thin, white scars that lined the dirtied flesh were a painful reminder of what she had done.
How can I feel disgust for her when I'm just as disgusting? I can't feel sorry for her when she's done nothing and I've-
Pansy glared down at the ground fighting with emotions she didn't want to feel, seeing her wand tremble and remembering all the lives she had taken with it. And still would take. Perhaps even today.
"You mock me?" she whispered falling back into bullying mode. It was the only thing she had left. Make them fear you so they don't see your fear. Draco had always said that. Draco, who might be dead now. Draco…
The Granger girl didn't reply and instead pressed her lips together tightly and turned her head but not before Pansy saw the sparkle of her tears. And although she didn't want to she felt sorry for the woman she had so recently hated. She stepped forward.
"Tell them what they want to know, Granger."
Hermione turned to face the other woman, noting how white her face seemed to be, how heavy the dark circles under eyes that were full of sorrow and a heavy burden. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione whispered. She watched with growing terror as Pansy lifted her wand and her heart stopped. So maybe this would be the end. She closed her eyes tight.
"Diffindo."
The whispered word rang through the room and suddenly Hermione was aware that she was free and she brought her raw, tender wrists to her chest, rubbing them gently as she stared up at Pansy in shock. When she opened her mouth to speak however, nothing came out.
Pansy fell to the ground.
"I'm making myself perfectly clear, Mudblood. Tell them what they want to know."
"I don't know anything," she lied.
"But you DO! Everyone knows that Draco's hiding something and you KNOW what that is! Don't you know what they'll do to you?"
Her eyes were flashing with self-hatred and unbridled fury and Pansy gripped her wand so tightly she felt like her fingers would break.
Hermione remained stoic; she refused to let the other woman rattle her. All of this was a ploy; it had to be, for Hermione couldn't imagine a woman as horrid as Pansy trying to reason with her. It simply wasn't possible. And she would not turn in those she loved; she would not betray Draco. What Justin had told her, what she knew about the WERA was not the Ministry's business.
I'll die before I say anything.
"He's never told me anything," she whispered weakly, refusing to use his name and to acknowledge their connection. She watched in surprise as Pansy shook her head in defeat.
"I know," she began emphatically. "I know what you mean to him. I know what's between you. I know everything. He told me."
Hermione let out a strangled sound and stared at Pansy with wide, watery eyes. A part of her felt the rush of sweet relief whilst the other trembled in terror before the woman who had dealt her a multitude of suffering.
Pansy's face was a visage of nothingness as she spoke.
"They'll kill you."
"I know."
"Then you welcome death?"
"I'm not afraid."
"You're a fool. The more you resist the more they'll push to break you."
Hermione said nothing only watching Pansy unblinkingly. She only spoke awhile later, her words hard.
"Do what you've come to do," she managed to say, her lips trembling. "Do what you've always wanted to do."
She closed her eyes and waited only to be surprised that she was still alive a few seconds later. When she opened her eyes again Pansy was gazing back at her and the look in her eyes was heartbreaking. Hermione found herself confused and troubled and when Pansy finally spoke it seemed like a lifetime had passed. Her voice was cracked and uncertain.
"I can't."
Her word were simple.
"He loves you too much."
Hermione felt her heart breaking at the way that Pansy spoke, and marveled at the selflessness that she had not believed she would ever had possessed.
"If you don't do this for yourself, do it for him."
The two women gazed at one another as Pansy's words died in the shadowed space.
"They'll kill him, too. They're doing it now. They want to know what he's hiding and they believe he's been protecting you. Is that how you want all of this to end? If he dies, surely you will too. Haven't you been alive thus far because of him? Aren't you living for him? Aren't we of the same mind on two sides of a wall that will never come down?"
Hermione stared, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Through the red haze of pain Draco wasn't sure when he began to be aware of sounds and voices again. He was spent; his body worn and battered, tossed aside like a rag doll covered with blood and dirt.
"STOP!"
The shriek was commanding and it caused those who were slowly destroying him to pause and then cease their seemingly endless tortures. Only then could Draco draw a proper breath, though it was accompanied by a pain so great it made him want to wail out his agony. But he couldn't for his he had gone hoarse from screaming.
He laid on the cold ground his heart hammering unable to do anything but whimper.
"I said to question him not to KILL him!"
He recognized the voice then; it was his aunt and she was on a rampage. From his vantage point on the ground Draco could make out hazy outlines of men in long robes and his aunt pacing in front of them as she raged.
"You blood hungry imbecile!" she spat. "You think you have the right to take a life, do you? You think you can do what you want and go against my specific orders?"
"No, we were only-"
Fenrir's voice rang out in the room, the sound both gleeful and fearful at the same time. It made Draco shudder and even the goose bumps that rose up on his flesh caused a prickling pain.
"You question him, not MURDER him! Get out of my sight! Out of my sight, I tell you!"
There was scuffling and then a cry as Bellatrix lifted her wand.
"Stupefy!"
A flash of light and then a heavy thud. Then all was silent.
Draco awoke to the sight of his aunt watching him warily, her heavily-lidded eyes bearing a strange, bored expression.
"Ah, you're awake."
It was odd, he realized, trying to move. Her voice had never been so soft. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out but a painful whimper. His throat was raw and when Draco tried to move his body it screamed in protest.
"Fenrir was too…zealous."
Draco blinked. There was no apology; there was nothing to signify that she cared.There was nothing but an unattached interest. He swallowed, wincing. Then he tried to speak again. When the words came, they were a hoarse whisper.
"W-what happened?"
She ignored his question, advancing on him with menace.
"Do you need another reminder of who is in charge, nephew?"
Draco remained silent.
"Why did you fake your own death?"
"Because I wanted to catch Astoria in the act," he lied hatefully. "And I DID. They deserved to die for marring the Malfoy name."
Draco was weak and dizzy but he could only hope his answer would be satisfactory. Bellatrix eyed him with suspicion and then tapped her wand against her palm for a moment.
"Be that as it may, you had no right to attack another Ministry official."
Draco sneered trying not to move because the pain was unbearable.
Bellatrix watched him.
"Tell me what you know about the night of the fire, Draco."
"I know nothing."
This was said whilst he gritted his teeth against the pain. The wild-haired witch stepped forward.
"I think you're lying."
He glared at her with defiance in spite of his pain.
"I don't care what you think," he hissed.
Bellatrix offered a curious smile and paused for a moment before continuing.
"Of course you don't."
Suddenly she moved forward, gripping Draco by the shoulder hard and causing him to cry out in pain and surprise. Dragging him into the damp, shadowed hallway she stopped by two run down doors. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision he had only a second to glimpse what was before him; Hermione sat in a rusty cell chained to the wall.
His heart stopped. Bellatrix waited gleefully, holding her breath.
"But do you care about her?"
Draco stared. Hermione looked terrified, confused and helpless. To her left stood Fenrir and to her right, Dolohov.
Bellatrix smiled.
"Now…you can prove once and for all where your loyalties lie, yes?"
He stood statue still feeling the movement of air against his bruised flesh as she stood behind him, whispering against his ear.
"Go in there and do what you must. She will die anyway, Draco. Surely you knew that already. But before I toss her over to Fenrir for a plaything I want to know what she knows. If you know nothing about what happened that night, then why did we find you with her? Why is she still alive? Why have you been showering her with your attentions?"
He turned his pounding head in Bellatrix's direction all color draining from his face and his mouth going dry. The smile that she offered him this time was terrifying; it told him all he needed to know.
"You're insane if you think there's anything between-"
Someone smacked him viciously, silencing any further thoughts Draco might have had. His eyes watered.
"You have twenty minutes," Bellatrix said gleefully. "And we'll be waiting, Draco. Don't disappoint us. We wouldn't want to kill someone, now would we?"
The laughter followed her out of the room and then it was just Hermione and Draco.