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Draco swore he could feel the seams of his skull splitting, bone tearing from bone as the Dark Lord ripped through his memories. It had already gone on for what felt like an eternity; Voldemort wouldn't be satisfied until he'd made absolutely certain that the boy hid no disloyalty. After all, it would be quite the scandal if the heir to the Dark Lord had been secretly working against him.
After an eternity more, Draco finally felt the searing Legilimency recede, only for it to be replaced with a pounding migraine and a lightheadedness that gravely threatened his coordination. When he opened his eyes, the Dark Lord was staring out one of his study windows, rain still pouring down and lightning occasionally flashing.
"Get out," he snarled, and the boy was only too glad to oblige. He hurried from the study, bracing the wall outside for support, then began making his way to his mother and father's room.
Draco knocked thrice on the door, the sound making him cringe. His mother let him in moments later, embracing her son and holding him tightly for a moment before guiding him over to where Lucius lay.
The older man looked hardly any better than when he'd first returned to the manor, and it had already been two nights since then. Draco tried to focus on the pretty girl humming beside him, her long fingers grasping an even longer, strange-looking wand that she was slowly waving over the unconscious wizard.
"Why isn't he awake yet?" The boy questioned, gritting his teeth at the merciless hammering in his skull. The girl flicked her large, teal eyes towards him, and she ceased humming. When she spoke, her voice sounded as though it were drifting to him on a breeze
"Your father was as dead when I arrived; retrieving those from the grasp of She Who Comes For All is a delicate operation. I have made much progress, and he will no longer pass forward into death's hands, but I require time to repair the extensive damage that was done."
Narcissa placed a hand on her son's shoulder. "Draco, Olympia is doing all she can. Your father will be alright."
Looking at the state of the man in the bed, Draco found his mother's words hard to believe, but he also knew Olympia had saved several members of his family from practically certain death. She ought to be able to do it again. He swallowed as he grasped one of his comatose father's cold, grey hands and brought it to his lips.
"Wake soon, father," he muttered, then turned back to Narcissa as Olympia started singing again.
"I'm going to the Descendant Manor. If you need me, send an elf."
His mother's expression darkened. "You would choose to be with her at this moment, instead of your father?"
Draco closed his eyes and massaged his temples, trying to hold onto a train of thought through the incessant pounding.
"I don't want to be in this house right now, mum. I trust you'll notify me if father's condition changes."
He left before Narcissa could respond, trying to close the door behind him as softly as possible, then made his way down the hall to his own suite.
He sank to his knees as soon as he'd locked the entryway, resting his forehead against the wood as the world continued to tilt around him. Just the thought of Portkeying made his stomach turn. Nevertheless, after taking a few minutes to simply breathe, the boy stood and half-stumbled over to his desk, retrieving the case of Portkeys. Sighing, he touched one of the golden buttons and felt the ground beneath him fall away.
—
Hermione had spent the better part of two days in either the Casting Hall or the library, testing new spells and trying to keep from contemplating what could be going on at the Grand Manor. She glanced out the tall windows of the Casting Hall; the thunder and lightning had mostly vanished, but the rain continued to come down in torrents, telling the wizarding world that the Dark Lord was still seething.
Returning her focus to the book beside her, Hermione concentrated on her attempt to conjure a sphere of light without her wand. It was exceedingly difficult.
She had actually managed to summon a very small sphere when the appearance of a House Elf made her lose focus. Dex bowed low, but had a worried look on his face when he straightened.
"The young Master Malfoy has arrived, Mistress Granger. He appears to be ill. Dex left Dune to tend him."
"Where is he?" Hermione demanded, already making her way from the hall.
"The west drawing room, Mistress Granger."
Wasting no time, the girl Apparated across the house, her eyes immediately landing on the boy.
Draco was braced against the wall with his eyes closed, looking very ill indeed. Hermione took a step towards him, but held back, unsure of exactly what state he was in. Delilah had no such reservations, as she came out of Apparition and immediately turned to the boy, unconcerned with his condition.
"My father and brother, are they alright?" She questioned loudly, her voice almost frantic. Draco winced and raised a hand to his head.
"They're fine. Your brother took a curse to the knee, but it wasn't serious."
Hermione watched as the girl's demeanor softened once she knew her family was safe. Delilah stepped back with a pitying look on her face.
"I would've thought being his heir would exempt you from his mind-ripping," she said softly. Draco gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, though even that seemed to be a struggle.
"If anything, it's the opposite. He makes doubly sure I'm not hiding anything, though usually he's a bit more... careful, when he's going through my head."
Sighing, Hermione strode forward and grasped the boy's hand, Apparating them to his bedroom.
Draco cursed and fell to one knee when they landed, sure that his skull was about to shatter from the pounding within it. He heard the girl beside him muttering something, then an overwhelming drowsiness came over him, and he let himself fall unconscious.
Hermione furrowed her brows, levitating the boy into his bed before summoning a house elf. Archie appeared, already bearing a medipotions kit, his expression sympathetic.
"Oh, Master Draco..." He murmured, handing the box of vials to Hermione. She went through the case and selected a few, tipping them into a little cup and then pouring them down her fiancé's throat. Given that he was asleep, she couldn't really tell if they were helping, so she sighed and returned the potions to the kit, her forehead creased. Archie, in an incredibly bold move for an elf, placed his hand on hers.
"Do not fret, Mistress Granger. The young Master Malfoy merely has Legilimency Sickness. He shall be well by tomorrow morning."
Hermione bit her lip, her gaze shifting to the boy's left forearm. Being exceedingly careful, she rolled up his sleeve, examining his Dark Mark.
It wasn't exactly a lovely illustration, but as she stared at it, she couldn't deny that it was exquisitely detailed. The serpent's eyes almost seemed to glitter at her, while the eye sockets of the skull almost seemed to be crafted of darkness itself, so deep was the ink that shaded them.
"Will… Will he wake up, if it burns?" She asked, not sure why she thought the elf would know.
"Yes, mistress. The Dark Mark is intensely powerful magic. If the young Master Malfoy is summoned, there are very few spells or potions that would keep him from heeding his master's call."
She crooked a brow. "Archie, how do you know so much?"
"I am very old, Mistress Granger, even by elf standards. Not only have I watched three generations of Malfoy come to follow the Dark Lord, but there have been other influential witches and wizards that the family has aligned itself with. Magic in such circles tends to be reinvented and reused."
Returning her attention to Draco, Hermione reached forward and brushed back some of the platinum strands that had fallen across his forehead, then stood.
"Please leave him a large glass of water. And be sure to prepare a substantial breakfast for him when he wakes, I suspect he hasn't had much to eat the past couple of days."
Archie bowed low. "Of course, Mistress Granger. Shall I alert you when he rouses?"
Shaking her head, she said "Just let him know I'd like to speak to him. He can find me when he wishes."
With that, the girl threw one last concerned glance at her betrothed, then made her way from the room, heading back towards the Casting Hall to continue practicing with the light spheres.
—
When Draco awakened, he was relieved to find that the aftereffects of the Dark Lord's Legilimency had subsided. Glancing at the clock across the room, he saw that he'd slept late into the afternoon, remembering that Hermione had put him under a sleeping charm. He drank the glass of water on his bedside table before calling for an elf, Archie appearing moments later with a low bow.
"How pleased I am to see the young Master Malfoy awake again! Tetten will soon be up with a large breakfast for you, per Mistress Granger's orders. She also wished to inform you that she would speak with you, whenever you so please."
Draco nodded as Tetten popped into the room, a large tray in her hands that was laden with food. She set the spread on the window seat before disappearing momentarily and reappearing with a large mug of tea and another glass of water. After being thanked and assured that nothing further was required of her, she bowed and popped out of sight, but Archie remained. Draco furrowed his brow.
"Is there something you need to tell me, Archie?"
The House Elf, always much more human than the rest of them, gave the boy a small smile.
"Mistress Granger is one of the loveliest witches I've met, Master Draco. I wish you congratulations; Miss Parkinson would not have made you happy the way Mistress Granger will."
The young Malfoy chuckled bitterly as he spread jam over some toast, and Archie gave him a look of understanding.
"The stars have decreed you an excellent match, young Master, and I have seen the tenderness in her eyes when she looks upon you. Have faith, and you will enjoy a blessed union."
Draco studied the elf curiously for a moment, then shrugged. "I'll take your word for it. You're dismissed."
When he was gone, however, the boy continued to think on his words. Archie had a gift for divining answers from the stars, and was scarcely wrong. Then Draco remembered their afternoon spent at the piano, how Hermione had smiled, actually smiled, despite where she was. And then… she'd kissed him. The softest kiss he'd ever experienced, yet it had somehow consumed him in the most electrifying way. He remembered her eyes after, and how there was a hint of surprise in them, like she'd felt something as well. Maybe…
Draco decided he wouldn't dwell on it. He would simply allow whatever happened to happen. Still, the House Elf's words had stirred something dangerously akin to hope in his chest, and he realized that his feelings for her were growing much faster than he'd anticipated.
He tried to ignore the sudden nerves in his stomach as he stared at the downpour outside.
—
After finishing much of the breakfast tray, (he really had been starving,) Draco began to wander throughout the house, looking for his fiancée. It wasn't long before he found her, sitting on the floor of the library, surrounded by open books and scribbling furiously on a roll of parchment. He knocked on the doorframe to let her know he was there.
Hermione startled at the sound of knuckles on wood, leveling a glare at her smirking betrothed. Then her gaze softened, and her eyes roved over him, calculating.
"You look much better. How do you feel?"
The boy twitched under her scrutiny. "I'm fine. Archie said you wanted to talk?"
Nodding, she rolled up the parchment she'd been writing on, then snapped her fingers and ordered Dune to return the books around her to their proper places. She watched the House Elf work, then turned to her intended when the creature finally disappeared and they were alone.
"How's your father?" She inquired, her tone gentle. He almost thought she might genuinely care.
"Not good, but he'll survive."
The girl sighed, and he could tell she was considering her next words carefully. But after a few seconds of deliberation, she appeared to simply give up on any pretense of delicacy.
"What on earth happened a few nights ago? How did some of the most ruthless witches and wizards in the United Kingdom get their arses handed to them by a small group of dissenters?"
Draco let out a heavy breath as he thought back to that night, unceremoniously collapsing on one of the settees. He fixed her with a suspicious stare.
"They weren't a small group by any means. We were outnumbered three to one."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "When I left them, there can't have been more than seventy organized members. They must have been recruiting like mad these past few months…"
"Recruiting or hiring. I saw more than a few mercenaries fighting with them, some of whom my father has even used once or twice. I think your lot has lowered their standards when it comes to their membership requirements."
The girl bristled, and she gave him an icy look. "You will not associate me with them. As far as I'm concerned, The Order of the Phoenix was eradicated on Halloween of last year. These people," she snarled, a dangerous glint in her eyes, "they don't care about anything other than ousting the Dark Lord for their own political gain, and if they have to destroy everyone in their path to do it, whether muggle or magical, they won't hesitate."
Draco was stunned at the venom in her voice as she described the people she had once fought beside, and the question he'd been thinking about since she'd accepted the Dark Lord's pardon tumbled past his lips.
"Hermione… what happened? Why did you leave them?"
Silence reigned for several moments, the girl's expression wary. Then she closed her eyes and gave a long sigh, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to stare out the tall library windows.
"Dex!" She called, though her voice wavered as though she were exhausted. "A glass of Firewhiskey for Master Draco, and a Sage Citrus for me."
The House Elf returned quickly with the glasses, and Hermione took a large sip from hers before squaring her shoulders and turning back to her fiancé, her expression now twisted by a bitter smirk.
"It's a bit of a long story. Are you sure you want to waste time hearing it when you know how it ends?"
Seeing the pain in her eyes, Draco tossed back some of his drink, then stood and made his way to stand before her. He tenderly grasped her hand, bringing it to his lips.
"Yes, I want to hear it," he murmured, his gaze holding hers. "I want to hear every detail that eventually led to you believing you were better off in the company of the Dark Lord than the Order of the Phoenix, even if they were not the same people you once knew."
His voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I want to know what led you to me."
Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, letting her betrothed pull her to sit beside him on the couch. She took another sip from her glass, then tried to determine where to begin, eventually shaking her head and chuckling mirthlessly.
"I guess it starts with you, Draco. God, the stars must be laughing their arses off."
Draco felt a tingle move down his spine at her words, especially her mention of the stars, and he found himself holding his breath as she began her story…
—
AN: As you may guess, the next chapter will fill in some background for this AU. Hopefully that will clear up a few questions. Much love to all, and a special thank you to Sephiria Arks and Ghostwriter71! Your words of encouragement always give me butterflies!