Summary: After failing to escape Malfoy Manor with the others, Hermione puzzles together how she blindly played a part in the break in at Hogwarts.

Rated: T

Genre: General

Warning Tags: Abuction; Torture; Hurt no Comfort

If Only I Knew

Hermione awoke feeling cold and struck with an intense pain that coursed through her being. Wherever she was it was pitch black and the floor was very hard. The threadbare blanket draped over here did nothing to stave off the cool air. She tried to move her right arm to prop herself up but let out a cry in pain and fell back onto the thin mat she realized was under her.

'What happened?'

In an attempt to ward off the pain surging from her arm, she recounted her recent memories. They broke into the Ministry of Magic, retrieved the locket. Ron had left them in a fit of anger and left Harry and her alone out in the wilderness. They jumped around for weeks, then they found the sword. Ron came back with Harry and the sword, a destroyed locket in hand. Something had gone wrong, they jumped right into a Snatcher ambush and…

Her head started to throb and her hands shook. Her body seemed to have recoiled at the attempt to remember what happened right after. They got Snatched and taken to… the Manor. The towering Manor. Hermione placed a hand on her forehead, the pain in her arm intensified. She was tortured by…

'Bellatrix,' she thought with a wince.

She was asking for information about the sword… that it was supposed to be in her vault. And then… and then…

A sound startled Hermione out of her racing, hurting head. She looked around the darkness and saw a faint light seeping through a barred door not far from her. Soon the illuminated wand tip became more prominent and Hermione held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. The light made her head throb even more. The creaking swing of a door opened and someone stepped in. The soles of their shoes tapped crisply on the stone—she assumed—floor. The door was resecured and the person was coming closer.

'No… please,' her mind whispered.

Unable to hold it much longer, she slowly released her breath in shakey gasps. The person stopped then, Hermione sensed them very close to her injured side. She wanted to scramble away to a far corner to get away but didn't, not allowing herself to give into the more primitive instincts her mind wished to fallback on. Deciding to flutter open her eyes, the light was brighter than she anticipated, and she raised her arm to block it, only to hiss from the pain in her right atm.

They knelt down now, and Hermione's eyes adjusted enough to make them out. It was Draco. He reached for her—she only then noticed the makeshift sling around her neck—and she pulled back in a jerking manner, the searing pain was doused with adrenaline.

"What did you do to deserve the punishment in tending to the Mudblood, Malfoy?" Hermione spat, eyes narrowing at him.

He said nothing, but she didn't miss him flinching at the venom in her words. Holding out two vials with neat writing on each, he held the light to them long enough for her to read them and see which was what before he placed them on the ground. Getting back to his full height, he abandoned the two small vials and a tray of rations, leaving her alone in the darkness. She waited to make sure he wasn't lingering in the shadows at the doorway before desperately fumbling for the vials. Pain reliever and dittany. Whatever happened, it was safe to say that her arm felt like it had been mauled and torn apart by a rabid animal.

She could only hope it wasn't the work of Greyback. Before ripping open the corks she paused, the rational side of her mind kicking in as to what these vials meant. They wanted her to heal enough and ensure her endurance to future interrogation and torture. She must've been in dire conditions to prompt this, but she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of curing her only to cause further harm.

The shattering glass on the far wall was almost satisfying, but the flare up of pain in her arm had her lay back down under the blanket on the mat and cry herself back into unconsciousness.

Hermione didn't bother to acknowledge Draco on the second day. She kept her back turned to the door, lying as still as she could until he touched her arm. The gesture had her bolt to attention, glaring at him as he unbandaged the blood red rags from it. The question burned her throat, wanting to ask what had happened until she saw the swirls all down her arm.

'Splinched…'

Her silence was broke on the third day. She was desperate for information and wanted to verbalize her conclusions to make them feel more concrete with someone else present to give facial queues. Draco was good at keeping himself stoic when he wanted to, but she couldn't get over the fact that he was touching the bloodied bandages without even a hint of disgust or nasty remark. It was like he shut himself down.

"I was splinched in the escape…" Hermione muttered, giving a stern shake of her head while placing her free hand on her forehead.

How could she be so stupid? If only she were more aware of what was happening she could have pulled away from the person that grabbed her. Who was it? Did she even know?

"I was pulled away from Dobby's Apparation. That is what happened… I was pulled away by…"

Draco didn't reply, actively ignoring her rambling as he worked to rebandage her arm.

Her head was killing her, and she wished she could give in for the relief just once, but knew if she did once, she'd want to keep placating the pain, keeping it at bay. She needed to distract herself, so maybe she could pry information out of him.

"Why are you doing this?"

The question seemed to have scared Draco away, for he finished the bandage hastily and promptly left.

Hermione needed to think and make sure she didn't suffer a concussion. They probably didn't even consider checking for one, but her head felt like it was beat against the stone walls surrounding her, and a cold chill settled in her that said there was one person who dwelled in the home above her that would delightfully do such a thing.

Draco was being uncomfortably quiet by the fourth day. It was very unlike him to be so silent. She recalled the strange day when he approached her in the library, blabbering on about whatever to hear himself talk, up until he asked her for help that is.

"They were books on repairing magical objects," she recalled to the darkness, pulling the blanket against her person. "He was wanting to mend a damaged jewelry box for extra credit and gift it to his mother for her birthday."

Saying it outloud in her own words made the entire scenario fishy. Why on earth would Draco repair something and then gift it to someone like his mother? That was beneath their haughty tastes and materialistic values. She never did consult Professor Flitwick to confirm Draco's claims on the project, but at the time Hermione wanted to give Draco the benefit of the doubt. She didn't think then that Draco had the nerve to join the Death Eaters. Though Harry was very insistent upon it, she wished she trusted him on it then.

Of course Draco baited her in accepting his request, she recalled. "He played me with my weakness and my strengths. I wanted to find those hard to find books, I wanted to prove myself to the prat." she laughed tonelessly. "How stupid can I get?"

It was only when she pondered on it further that she started to piece together more and more. Draco was seen examining the cabinet that Arthur said was a Vanishing Cabinet. Why would he be interested in that?

Hermione felt herself go cold, and it wasn't from the blood loss. "I… I helped him… get Death Eaters in."

It sounded completely unorthodox, but there was no other reason behind why he needed those tomes but to mend something so complex, something he harnessed to penetrate the defenses of Hogwarts to commit sinister deeds. How did her meticulous attention to details miss the signs?

Her eyes had long since adjusted to her dark prison, and so she could see the broken vials in the back corner now. She wasn't sure why Draco didn't notice the missing vials at the beginning, but she wasn't going to question it now. The noises heard in the distance prompted her to grab a shard and hid it under her mat.

Draco arrived again, pointing the light at her, having her raise her hand to block it out. She needed to confirm this, needed to know if she in fact played a terrible part in what happened during sixth year.

"You tricked me, didn't you?" Hermione hissed.

He said nothing, instead he placed the tray down and appeared to shut down. She pressed on.

"The books on mending enchanted objects, they weren't for a school project at all. You took advantage of my need to be right and seek these tomes out for you because you didn't know how to yourself?"

Her chest tightened as she spoke. Remembering the shard of glass under her mat, she was tempted to use it and charge at the git who knelt before her, but couldn't find herself to attack someone so violently like that. Just like she was unable to comprehend the idea that she was used to help kill Dumbledore.

"You… you made me an asset to your crimes!" she snarled with such a ferocity she almost convinced herself to lash out at him. "You really would go so low as to do something like that… I see it now… How could you?!"

Hermione placed a hand over her forehead, panicking now. "Dear Merlin, how could I? How…"

The rest of her hysterics was a blur of pain and anguish. She doesn't know how to live with herself now with the burden of this new knowledge… she wasn't sure how she could go on...

Originally Written For:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

Monthly Challenges for All

The Houses Competition

Word Count: 1,705

Originally Written: October 2019