Draco Malfoy's memories (as retrieved on August 8, 2020)
Draco's ideas about Muggles had changed in the last weeks. Preparing the ingredients for the potion that could replicate the scutum had been a nightmare. His hunch about cutting, slicing and draining everything via Muggle methods had been right, after all. He had ruined several batches of potion though, when he had not been meticulous enough. It had turned out, that the ingredients had to be cut very small and very regularly, a task that was boring and taxing at the same time. Chopping away hastily had not been a good idea. Poor Prudy had sickened up once and thrown up, something Draco had never seen a house elf do ever. He felt obliged to apologise to the little elf for relentlessly using it for his experiments.
It was Thursday night. Tomorrow he would leave Hogwarts to go to the Manor for the Easter break. He was definitely not looking forward to it. But he needed to do it. He had shamelessly plundered Slughorn's stocks for rare ingredients, but Slughorn had run out, and Draco had written to his mother about getting potion ingredients. If anyone could procure Erumpent horn powder and bowtruckle eggs it would be her.
When Professor Slughorn had caught him pilfering his stocks, Draco had coldly informed him, that he was acting on orders. He had not specified on whose orders but had just circled his left forearm with his right hand and rubbed at it, readjusting his sleeves, trusting that Slughorn would have heard about his mark. That had been enough of a hint to let Slughorn back off. Unfortunately, Antony Goldstein from Ravenclaw had chanced upon them. Draco had thought that his reputation could not be worse, but apparently there had been still some people who did not know about his mark. Goldstein apparently had told others and Draco had been given an even wider berth since then. He thought it was somewhat ridiculous considering the Carrows continued to make fun of his cruciatus curses, at least if they got hold of him.
Just now, Prudy and him were testing the potion. It had turned out, that the potion did work on living beings, at least it worked on the elf. He had doused Prudy with quite a considerable amount, and he had fired all kind of spells at it. Prudy had flinched every time he tried an unforgivable on it. But either his will to really hurt Prudy was non-existent or the potion really was that good. Prudy did not feel a thing, although it wailed quite a lot.
Draco tried to reason with it. "You know, this is a big secret, and I can't try this on anybody else."
He was a bit frustrated. The potion did only do half of what it should do. The shield worked well enough and that alone was enough to make it an advanced and useful potion, but Prudy was still able to cast spells. That meant that as things stood now the potion would not be able to contain the Dark Lord.
Draco continued to fire relatively harmless tickling spells at the elf every five minutes to test how long the potion's effect would hold. It turned out that it was six hours, how much potion really was needed would have to wait for another round of trials. After six hours the potion wore off and it was when Prudy helplessly laughed with an open mouth, when the tickling spell hit it, that Draco got an idea. He pictured how the elf had closed its mouth and eyes when he had doused it with the potion, even though the potion somehow evaporated immediately and did not leave one wet drop behind.
"I think we should try what happens, if you swallow the potion."
The elf wailed, and Draco felt a pang of pity for the little creature.
"Fine, I'll take it," he said. He could hardly ask Severus to do it. And he would have to test this on a human after all.
He tried to drink it thrice, but chickened out every time. He finally ordered Prudy to force him to down the potion. The little elf was very unhappy about this order, because elves were not allowed to do anything to risk their master's magic. It was only after Draco threatened Prudy with freedom, that it did as it was told. Draco managed to swallow when the elf fed him the potion and Prudy immediately punished itself.
The potion tasted pleasantly of mint, ginger and lemon, a fresh taste, not too sour. That was strange considering that neither of these ingredients actually were in the potion. Draco impatiently told Prudy to stop the self-punishment and waved his wand. Nothing happened.
He should feel triumphant, but instead he felt a cold fear. He felt very vulnerable and regretted his decision to test the potion. He should have tested this on an unsuspecting Hufflepuff, secrecy be damned. The following hours dragged on, while Draco tried to cast every five minutes. Prudy looked at him and winced every time his wand produced nothing. When he finally could cast again, he wept with relief. Prudy wept as well, and finally stopped trying to hurt itself.
Draco and Prudy hastily bottled the potion in handy vials. They left the Room of Requirement and walked outside three times, impatiently waiting for the room to change into the Room of hidden things. Draco deposited the vials in a cupboard with green doors and put his notebook behind an old picture of the famous first Quidditch match. He pocketed one vial in the hope to get it to Severus. Before they left and he dismissed Prudy, Draco went through the usual routine of withdrawing his memories. He shrouded them, except the bare essentials, the cupboard with the green doors, the Quidditch match, the fact that the potion worked, the taste of the potion.
When he sneaked out a second time, morning had come, and class would probably start. Draco wondered if he would be able to catch Severus. He was impatient to plan. He would have the Dark Lord swallow that potion sooner rather than later, but he knew that this would need meticulous preparation. They would only have one chance after all.
If he would not have been so overtired, he probably could have averted the Carrows. They were patrolling before the Great Hall punishing children who were late for breakfast. This was another of their random tortures. Sometimes they punished children for wanting breakfast. Draco walked right into them together with the small Ravenclaw girl Draco dimly remembered to have been on the receiving end of his wand at least once.
Draco's feeling of triumph and hope bled out of him in seconds. The girl began to cry. The Carrows told her she was lucky they had chosen Draco to punish her. Draco had only seconds to decide, and he let the vial slip into his hands, grabbed the girl in such a way that the Carrows only saw her fearful eyes. He broke the vial so that the potion ran down the girl's body and evaporated immediately.
"Don't forget to scream," he whispered into her ear and pushed her away. She was a Ravenclaw after all, she should be smart.
Scream she did, and sob until the Carrows laughed and told Draco that he seemed to get the knack of the cruciatusat last. When they walked away, finally bored by their sport, the little girl picked herself up surprisingly fast. Her eyes were huge in her face, and she searched for an answer in Draco's gaze. It seemed like the potion had worked. Draco just held a finger to his lips, even though he wanted to slap himself. Severus would be livid, that he had risked the secret just because he wanted to spare a little girl this once.
(testimony of Helena Winters, Malfoy trial, February 2002)
[witness] "The Carrows told him to crucio me, and he grabbed me and doused me with something. He cast the spell on me, but I felt nothing, nothing at all. I screamed like he had told me to, though, so the Carrows would not suspect."
[prosecution] "Are you quite sure, Miss Winters? The school year 1997/98 was a continuous horror for all pupils. Would you even remember one particular time the torture spell failed?"
[witness] "Mr Sloane, it is precisely because I really know how the cruciatus feels, that I know that whatever Malfoy doused me with worked fine. I didn't feel a tickle."
Chapter 24: A day in a lawyer's office
Summary:
Just a normal day in Hermione's office, or is it?
Notes:
More puzzle pieces come together - hopefully.
Chapter Text
'Just don't get too invested.' Hermione could almost hear Draco's voice. Terry Boots was sitting in front of her desk and he was exactly the mess Hermione had expected.
"Natasha really shouldn't raise our son to have prejudices like that, not in this time. Why can't she see that she harms him? I mean this is not only about me not wanting him to be prejudiced against muggles, it is also that he won't get far in our society if he holds that kind of opinions."
Hermione could not help herself. "Terry, anti-muggle sentiments are still quite widespread. Many carefully use the term muggleborn and still think that muggles and squibs are inferior, nevertheless. I doubt anybody will bat an eye if Andrei looks down on muggles just a tiny bit. It would certainly not hinder any career." For all her pity, she had to scoff. "Well, unless he already knows he wants to join the muggle connection department at the ministry at the tiny age of 9."
"How can you be so sanguine about that?" Terry asked.
"You signed an agreement, Terry," Hermione answered. "You could influence him to choose Muggle studies at Hogwarts, you can wait until he is fourteen and has a say in where he wants to go with his dad. Now, Natasha's lawyer will push for restricted access for you, and there is very little I can do."
"I didn't think Natasha was that serious about it," Terry whispered. "She's never been that invested into isolationism while we were married. I thought it was her family, you know. Her father insists that Andrei wears that ring with the family signet all the time. Natasha threw a fit the one time we forgot the ring at my flat when I brought Andrei to her. I mean it is just a ring."
Hermione tried not to let her annoyance show. Just a ring. She would throw a fit as well, if Rina, Lizzie and Meg would not wear their bracelets, or if Colin would not wear his ring, when they were outside the house. It was their emergency back up after all. A way to call her if they were in danger.
"She might have charmed the ring with protective charms, Terry," she argued. "Try to at least understand her. It will make things smoother."
"Nothing is ever going to be smooth with Natasha." Terry sounded bitter.
Hermione tended to agree but refrained from endorsing Terry. She promised him to try to reason with Natasha's lawyer, but she doubted she could avoid a period of restricted access to his son.
Hermione was relieved, when her secretary told her that another client wanted to see her. It was a good excuse to get rid of Terry after he had promised payment yet again. Hermione doubted she would ever see any galleons. She would have to accept more duty soliciting to have enough to pay her secretary. And she hated duty soliciting, preferring to pick interesting cases instead of defending people she knew to be guilty. Maybe Draco was right, and she should insist on getting a percentage for the certificate of responsible use of magical beasts.
Her next client was Gnorlin, the goblin for whom she had secured a place at St Mungo's. He had felt no calling for a career in finances nor metal-working and Hermione had argued that to not allow him a medical career would be discrimination. Gnorlin was the first Goblin healer ever, and he was quite successful, but he still felt discriminated against. Most of the times he was right, and Hermione had written several stern admonishments to the board of St Mungo's. Despite Gnorlin being a regular client and despite his worthy cause, he was not one of Hermione's favourites.
And she felt guilty about that. Ever since the goblin Griphook had tried to trick Harry, Ron and her during their break-in into Gringotts, she distrusted goblins, and Gringotts attitude not to allow her inside the building when they were perfectly good with Harry and Ron having vaults there because of their money, made her resent the goblins even more. She knew that none of this was Gnorlin's fault, but she still struggled in his presence.
Draco had told her that part of her zealousness to win Gnorlin's case had been about getting back at prejudiced goblins in retaliation and to show Gnorlin that she herself was above such prejudices. Sometimes he knew her too well. She carefully prepared another letter to St Mungo's telling them, that there was absolutely no reason why pureblood families should reject a goblin healer, who was as qualified as the others. At least Gnorlin never failed to pay. And if she could get a jibe at the Sloanes as collateral benefit, she wouldn't complain.
During her lunch break Astoria Greengrass came to ask her about the failure of the school scroll. Hermione was rather surprised Astoria turned up, despite that Draco had told her she might come. In hindsight it was rather funny, that both her and Draco had been jealous about Astoria. Hermione had side eyed Astoria's talks with Draco about her book and Draco had feared her long and late talks with her client on her case against her father, because he somehow had picked up far earlier on Astoria's preferences. While looking at a marriage crisis after resolution was something to smile about, it still made Hermione feel a bit awkward about Astoria.
If Draco was right on Astoria having had a crush on her she would never know, and she would certainly not ask. After they had sorted out their jealousy, Draco had told her that he could hardly blame Astoria to be in awe of the woman he loved as well. Their reconciliation still could make her smile.
Astoria seemed happy enough. She told Hermione that she had a muggle flatmate and that they lived in Muggle London.
"We sort of tiptoe around the fact that she can't tell anyone that I am a witch, and I can't tell anyone that she is …" Astoria stopped herself.
"Maybe more than a flatmate?", Hermione suggested. "I won't tell anybody, if you want to keep it a secret."
"I told Neville," Astoria said. "But I want to come out on my own terms."
She grimaced. "I'd rather not lose my job over it. I'm looked at with suspicion by some parents already."
Astoria produced the school scroll, to let Hermione have a look at it, but much to Hermione's dismay, even after running several spells over the scroll, they had no luck in finding any fault with it. To Hermione it looked like the intricate spell work was functioning as well as on the day it was made.
"I must admit that I am at my wits end," she finally admitted. "I wonder if instead of repairing it, you and Headmaster Flitwick could make a new scroll."
Astoria grimaced. "I don't know if I would be up to it. Unravelling the different layers for a diagnosis is difficult enough. I do think we would need at least four wizard and witches of the founders' calibre. This is a daunting task."
"You already checked the wizarding families for children that were not registered?"
"Yes, not all of them, though. I found three so far, that is apart from Matilda Fawley who entered Hogwarts last year, her being the case that made us doubt the scroll. There are Andrei Boots, Rosa Prewett, Wilfried Sloane."
"Andrei Boots?"
"Do you know him?"
"His father is one of my clients. Strange. His mother is from Russia. Maybe that is why he is not on the scroll."
"But he was born in England."
Hermione frowned. "You should check the muggleborns."
"That is what Draco said as well. But if any slipped the scroll, it will be a nightmare to find them. They only appear on their 11th birthday."
"Which gives muggleborns a disadvantage in my opinion." Hermione bit her lip. "Ask Pansy if she can get word around in the auror department. They are most likely to come across any irregular magic activity."
"Would she do that?"
"She'll check with her boss, but I don't see why she wouldn't do it." She avoided the name of Pansy's boss.
"That would mean that we go public about the failure of the scroll," Astoria grimaced.
"In my experience, being clandestine does not help with the solution of problems."
Her last appointment for the day, if it could be called such, was much more relaxed. She had tea with Luna in her office. They talked about the Zabinis' journey to India and Hermione's interest was piqued by Luna's new edition of Newt Scamander's classic. She was not thrilled to hear about Luna's suspicion that there was something like an underground network for the smuggling of wild occamies though.
"I worked for years to get that damn law through the wizengamot," she fumed. "How dare they!"
Luna blinked at her. "Hermione, you do realise that there are people who actually break the law? And that they do not care how much effort you put into that certificate?"
Hermione had to laugh despite herself. "Yes, Luna, I am aware of the fact, that criminals exist. I defend them, once in a while at least, and get money for it."
"Of course, you do," Luna nodded. "I hope that you would not defend magical beast smugglers, though."
"I wouldn't do that to you. Any idea, why occamies?"
Luna shrugged. "I assume, that they want the occamies for their eggs. The egg shells are silver after all, even if you couldn't sell the eggs with their magical properties intact on the regular market, with the new restriction of the 'responsible use' act and all that, the silver as such still would be worth enough to make a profit."
For a moment her gaze wandered, and she looked out of the window. "If they actually manage to have them breed in captivity…. It would certainly be worth it."
"Occamies do not do well in captivity."
"No, but even if you'd manage about three rounds of egg-laying it would mean enough money to be worth the effort, even for the silver alone, not to mention what you could earn on the black market if you harvest the eggs before hatching."
"Which would be at odds with breeding."
"This is why they need fresh wild occamies."
Hermione braced herself for the obvious conclusion. "You should alert Harry. Black market is right in his corner." She tried to let her voice sound normal. It shouldn't be that difficult to say Harry's name. It was, after all, the most natural course of action. It still hurt.
Luna focused on her again. "Oh, I've visited Harry already."
Hermione nodded. She suppressed a grimace. She would be better at this, if this week had not opened old wounds.
"I would just ask you to work on the loopholes in the certificate," Luna said.
Hermione frowned and was about to give a scathing answer to that very insulting insinuation, but when Luna gave her half-absent endearing smile, Hermione bit back the answer that lay on the tip of her tongue.
"I have recently received a large donation to use for the benefit of magical creatures."
Luna stopped as if she waited for Hermione to understand the rest. Hermione arched a questioning eyebrow.
"The donor entrusted me with the decision on how to spend the money but had very strong suggestions about the fact that the legal aspects should not be neglected."
"So, you basically suggest paying me to look for non-existing loopholes in a law that I've prepared for years from the funds of this …. donor."
Luna nodded enthusiastically. "If you find anything that would help with the smuggling that would be welcome of course."
"Luna, even if I account for every minute, I could not possibly bill you for more than let's say a week worth of work."
"That would be such a shame, Hermione. To secure this donation I set foot in a house I vowed never to visit again, after all."
Hermione stared. "More of a manor than a house, isn't it?", she finally said.
When Luna nodded, she asked. "How much money are we talking, exactly."
Luna told her and Hermione felt the air leave her lungs. She was silent for a while, numbers whirling in her head. Narcissa Malfoy was dead serious about getting rid of family money to weaken the curse.
"I know you hate defending criminals if you are not convinced of their innocence or at least mitigating circumstances. You wouldn't need to do duty soliciting for…. a decade, I reckon?"
Hermione still did not find words.
Luna laughed. "To think that I would see the moment Hermione Granger-Malfoy was bereft of her ability to speak."
Hermione jumped up and called her secretary. Alice came in.
"Alice, you get a 10% raise, retroactively from the beginning of July last year. And write to the ministry, that they will have to find another defender in the Rowle case."
She turned to Luna again. "Rowle is 100% guilty and I despise the rat, and Pansy caught him which means that the case against him is watertight anyway."
Chapter 25: Pillow talk II
Summary:
Just a little domestic fluff...
Notes:
I really dislike the epilogue... For me canon ends with Harry wanting a sandwich...
As ridiculous as it may sound, one of the things I dislike the most are the names of the children.
I have read many fics with an adorable Scorpius, and Scorpius is one of the few things I like about The Cursed Child (apart from Draco liking bossy Hermione of course), but the name, honestly the name...
There are so many constellations to choose from, but to choose that, really?
And don't get me start on Albus Severus... which is even worse in a way. I am sort of o.k. with Severus as a second name, but would Harry really name his son after the wizard who prepared him for self-sacrifice???
So, for all the Scorpius lovers out there. I love him as well, and fanon Scorpius has almost reconciled me with the name... but only almost. And to me Scorpius is the son of Draco and Astoria, an AU that preferably never happened...
My headcanon is that Hermione's and Draco's children would have different names, and I will disclose why they have the names they have...
So, I just wanted a fluffy chapter in between, and I wanted to elaborate and Draco's and Hermione's tendency to have acronyms.
Hope you enjoy it!
Chapter Text
"I can use the money from the donation to pay Alice and all the stuff I need for my office and I can use the money from duty soliciting for the children's school stuff instead of paying Alice. And you're responsible for the food on the table, as always."
Draco was as flummoxed as she had been about the loophole Narcissa had found.
"This makes things so much easier," he whispered. "That is incredible."
Hermione almost giggled at his relief. "You know, we should have waited a few days to buy Colin's new wand."
"As if you or me would ever postpone anything," Draco scoffed. They smiled at each other.
"And you were right, after all," Hermione continued her recapitulation of the day. "Astoria came to see me today."
"I've always been right about Astoria."
Hermione chuckled. "Oh my, to think how jealous I was! And how jealous you were."
"I still think that our fight about Astoria resulted in the best make-up sex ever."
Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you ever wonder, how it would have been if Voldemort had not come back? You might have married her."
"Yes, and we would have had one son – named after a constellation in the Black tradition." He made a face.
"Well, Draco is a pretty big constellation, even if it doesn't have the brightest stars."
"You could argue that the name is a bit over the top."
"I used to think so, when we were in school. I mean even other Slytherins had perfectly normal names like Gregory or Theo. But now, it's just your name. It's normal." Hermione laughed. "You know, if you had had a son in August, he could have been called Leo, that is a nice name. And he might have been sorted into Gryffindor as befits a Leo."
"Or he could have been born in October and be called Scorpius."
Hermione laughed. "Of all the constellations to pick a stingy arachnid!"
"A name like that borders on child abuse," Draco commented.
Hermione laughed again. "There are other more normal names. Perseus would have been a nice name."
"Too much like Percy."
"The pencil-pusher," they said in unison.
Draco smiled mischievously. "I read a joke that children should be named after the IKEA furniture where they were conceived…."
Hermione chuckled. "I am sure there must be a bed that has a name with P."
"Peer I, Peer II, Peer III, meet the children of Percy the pencil-pusher," he smirked. "All conceived missionary… in the marital bed."
"You know some names would be very embarrassing, or maybe too long…. I mean not every child is conceived on IKEA furniture, especially not in wizarding households."
"Office desk," Draco teased her.
"We don't really know that. Door."
"Carpet."
"Broom closet at our friend's wedding."
"One Peer, I guess." They laughed.
"Or the name could be an acronym that sums up the conception."
"Efsissy".
"FCC, Failed contraceptive charm."
"Dubyou Beetee Eftiar"
"Hmm. Doubleyou B, T, F, T… Wanted but the first try, really?"
"Pi-ef"
"That's easy. Pill fail. Although that's not true it should be Pi-ef beeovi".
"Pill fail because of virus."
"WSTBFHCESBS"
Draco thought for a while. "Whoever said that breastfeeding has contraceptive effects should be sued. My turn: FTCBTSWG."
Hermione thought about the time Robert was conceived. "Forgot the condom, but the sex was great." She laughed. "Even though it was in our bed and missionary?"
Draco winked. "There is nothing wrong with wanting to be comfortable, when you close in on forty."
He reached for her. "Come here. IWBOTSRN."
"I wouldn't be opposed to sex right now. That's a bit lame, love."
"IWYSM, ILYSM".
"Better, same here."
Chapter 26: The Manor (30th March 1997) - I
Summary:
Snatchers bring Harry, Ron and Hermione to Malfoy Manor, just when Draco is there for the Easter Break.
Notes:
So, this is where I basically leave canon... In a way. For Harry and Ron it still looks like it was in the books.
I left out Greyback, mainly because I think he is so super creepy.
I've read so many variants of this scenario in Dramione fics, because everybody knows it is crucial.
Hope you like mine! If you do, please do not hesitate to tell me.
Chapter Text
Hermione's thoughts whirled, desperately searching for an escape, while the Snatchers manhandled them on their way through the park to the big house. The house was huge, certainly more a villa than a house. She had always known the Malfoys were rich, but this house was insane. There were peacocks in the garden. She chided herself. She should concentrate on how they could escape. If they escaped, she would strangle Harry. How could he have been so stupid and actually speak Voldemort's name!
The snatchers brought them into a big room with a grand chandelier in the middle. The furniture was exquisite. Hermione caught herself thinking about how much it all must have cost. The shelves held fine and intricate silver dishes that looked goblin made. Each one would be enough to buy another house of the same size. She thought she saw a house elf dusting the silver ware. She knew she was close to panicking. Her mind latched on small details as if this would somehow prevent the inevitable, Harry's identification and his delivery to his enemy.
Hermione easily recognized the two women that came to inspect the Snatcher's haul. She had seen Narcissa Malfoy several times at King's Cross and she vividly remembered Bellatrix from the Department of mysteries. The woman who had tortured Neville's parents into insanity. She could not help herself, the picture of Alice Longbottom pressing candy wrap papers into Neville's hands came unbidden into her mind, threatening her very ability to think.
Narcissa Malfoy wrinkled her nose in disgust at the Snatchers, a sentiment Hermione could relate to. In no uncertain terms she sent the disgusting men away, as if she feared they would bring dirt into her meticulous and shining living room. The two women still held the wands of their captives of course and Hermione had no doubt, that even if they managed to get hold of their wands again, the two witches would be evenly matched against them. Lucius Malfoy joined his wife and sister-in-law and the odds became even worse.
Unfortunately, Narcissa recognised her and Ron, but they were unsure about Harry.
"Fetch Draco," Bellatrix told the elf that was preoccupied with the silverware. Hermione's heart began to pound even more wildly against her ribcage. Draco had wished her luck, but it looked like their luck had run out.
Hermione stood close enough to the door that she could see Draco's eyes widening when he entered, but he quickly looked at the floor and when he looked up again, his face was an unfeeling mask. He looked deathly pale and Hermione thought he looked even thinner than last summer.
"Isn't he one of the Weasley brood and isn't she the mudblood that is with Potter?" Bellatrix asked.
Draco fiddled with the ring on his left hand, tapping on it and slipping it from his finger, on and off, on and off, on and off, as if he was distracted or just not very interested.
He came closer and scrutinized them closely. For the fracture of a second his gaze met Hermione's.
"Yes, that's Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Quite a catch. How did you get them?"
Bellatrix laughed her strange laugh, that was just off-tune enough to be chilling instead of musical. "One of the boys spoke the Dark Lord's name. Snatchers brought them here."
"That was extremely stupid of them," Draco remarked. "To test their luck like that."
"And is this Potter?" Narcissa shoved Harry to the front. "If this is Potter, we should call the Dark Lord. You can tell us, can't you Draco?"
Draco let his eyes wander to Harry's face. He raised his eyebrow, and circled him slowly, watching Harry's distorted face very intently.
"Draco, for Salazar's sake. You are in the same class as Potter, surely you can recognize him. He was hit by a disfigurement jinx or a fell into bush of stingy greenweed. I think I can see his scar." Bellatrix said.
Draco studied Harry's forehead as if he had all the time in the world.
"His skin could be just inflamed from the greenweed. It's impossible to tell," he finally concluded.
Bellatrix pointed at Ron and Hermione. "But these are his friends."
Draco scoffed. "If you are so sure about it, go ahead, and call the Dark Lord, aunt Bella. I'm not going to call him until I am perfectly sure. I do remember what happened to Avery, when he claimed he had Potter."
He continued to circle Harry. "He probably would be stupid enough to call the Dark Lord's name." There was a tint of a strange sentiment in his voice. Anger?
"Just put them into the dungeon until ugly boy's face here has returned to normal." He sneered. "If he turns into Potter it won't be an improvement."
Hermione's thoughts began to flow again. Once they were in the dungeon and hopefully unsupervised, she might try a bit of wandless magic to escape. Apparition wards were probably in place, but maybe, just maybe the elves might help. She looked out for the little elf she had seen in the corner, but could not make her out at first. She finally spotted her under one of the chairs, quite close to Draco's legs. Hermione tried to catch her gaze.
Lucius Malfoy had begun to search their bags, as if he could find the answer to Harry's identity there, while Narcissa called for Pettigrew. Just when the ratlike man entered, Godric Gryffindor's sword fell out of Hermione's bag with a loud clank.
Suddenly, the room became very quiet. Hermione saw that Bellatrix had frozen on the spot.
"The sword of Gryffindor," Draco said. He sounded very surprised.
"This must be Potter then," Lucius Malfoy said. "Dumbledore bequeathed him the sword." To Hermione's horror he unbuttoned his sleeve and took a wand to his mark to call You-know-who.
"How did you get this? How did you get this?", Bellatrix screamed. Her superior airs had vanished, and she seemed close to being unhinged. She clamped her hand on Lucius' arm and hissed. "Don't call him, if you don't want to destroy us all."
Hermione felt as if someone had put a cold hand at her neck. A distressed Bellatrix was even more frightening than a haughty one. And she had no idea, why the sword's presence would disturb her so much.
"I will get to the bottom of this," Bellatrix declared. The sinister determination in her voice made Hermione shudder.
"Pettigrew, take the boys to the dungeon. I'll begin with the Mudblood. She'll scream to give me answers."
Hermione became cold with fear, her teeth began to shatter. She heard Harry and Ron scream and call when they were led away. Her thoughts whirled again, any plan for escape drowned in the storm of pictures of candy wrap papers in her head. She was at the mercy of the woman who thrived in torture. Here in this pristine living room with the fancy chandelier she would lose her sanity, if not her life.
When Draco grabbed her, she felt like a stiff doll, paralyzed with fear. He briefly yanked her towards him until his mouth was close to her ear. Her brain barely registered his hastily whispered words. "Scream for your life, tell her whatever buys time. Help is on the way."
He pushed her away and she stumbled and fell on the floor. First, her frantic gaze met Bellatrix who was standing above her at her feet. She did not want the witch to see her weakness though and her eyes fixed on the chandelier above.
"Crucio", she heard Bellatrix' voice.
Fear had her in its grip and made her scream in anticipation of pain, and it took her a moment to realise that she felt nothing. Her screams made the mad witch chuckle in glee. Hermione begged her to stop and frantically turned her head this way and that.
For a short moment she opened her eyes and saw that Draco had sunk down on one of the chairs to her left. His left hand was on his knee and his knuckles were white as chalk from how hard he pressed the hand on his knee. But his right hand held his wand at the side of his leg just so that Bellatrix could not see it. The little elf she had seen earlier was crouched under the chair and held up her hands, as if she was working magic.
"Crucio", Bellatrix repeated.
Hermione screamed again, as if she wanted to scream herself hoarse. There still was no pain. She writhed and pounded her feet on the floor, she begged over and over again, and when she thought it was too much, she began talking gibberish, calling after her mum and her dad. Bellatrix still had not uttered a single question, her cackle told Hermione that she had far too much fun.
Time lost all meaning to Hermione while Bellatrix repeated her spell more times than she could count. Hermione continued to scream and fake a pain she did not feel. She did not dare to look at Draco too often, most of the time she shut her eyes, or focussed on one of the crystals on the chandelier. Once in a while, her gaze would meet the determined face of the little elf, occasionally she thought she saw a brief flicker of what Draco's spell looked like. A blinding white line like a ray of the brightest sunshine that connected her to his wand.
Each time her eyes connected with his, her hope grew. 'Help is on the way', he had said. She would just have to play her part. Each time she dared to look at him he looked more strained, more exhausted. She thought she could see sweat plaster his hair to his temples. She resigned herself to the inevitable. At one point, Draco would break, and the pain would claim her. Bellatrix had begun to ask questions. If her questions were anything to go by, she feared that they had gotten the sword from the Lestrange's vault at Gringotts.
Finally, finally, the string of cruciatus curses ended and Hermione took shuddering breaths. She did not try to stop her tears, although she did not really know why she cried, whether it was relief, the sense of floating in a protecting cocoon, that made her feel strangely safe or the hope that filled her heart despite everything.
She barely could make out Draco through her tears. She could see that he had slumped on his chair, his hands were shaking, and he barely held on to his wand. She tried to communicate her gratitude with her eyes and nodded, ever so briefly. If he was too exhausted to continue, she would make it through with her sanity intact. In this moment, she was almost overwhelmed by a feeling she had no name for. She felt as if for this sliver of a moment, she completely understood him, a sliver of a moment where she could feel his despair, his determination, love maybe, and how drained he was. The intensity of their locked gaze in this short moment was more than she had ever felt before. Their kiss paled in comparison to this endless and yet short time of perfect understanding and bared hearts.
It was a brief respite though. Bellatrix had pulled out a dagger and knelt before Hermione.
"Everyone will see, what you are," she said.
She felt the knife dig into her forearm, but her voice had become hoarse with her show of screaming. She tore at her opponent's hair, but the other woman was stronger, and in the end, Hermione was stretched out on the floor, and the knife had bitten deep into her skin. Hermione could guess what the letters would read. She blabbered, that the sword was fake, that it was not the real sword of Gryffindor. She told them to ask the Goblin although she had no idea if he would back her up. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears that she barely registered what the goblin said, when he had been fetched from the dungeon.
With dismay, she saw that Lucius had uncovered his mark again, and that was the reason why she barely registered, that there was a commotion at the door and that Harry and Ron were calling for her. She became alert again, when she heard Harry shout. The promised help must have come, and she sprang, away from the crazed witch, ready to flee. The chandelier fell on the floor and in the commotion, Harry managed to fire disarming spells. Malfoy's wand slipped from his fingers as if it had been waiting to be called. She felt the tiny hand of an elf and just before they disapparated, her eyes met Draco's again and it was as if a cord had been struck between them that resonated in her very core.