Opposite Sides of the Same Coin
- HERMIONE -
The world spun as Hermione's consciousness flickered back into focus. The sharp scent of blood filled her nostrils, and she could taste the copper tang on her lips. Pain radiated through her body, sharper than any she'd ever felt, and as her vision cleared, she realized she was sprawled on the cold, hard floor of Malfoy Manor's drawing room.
She tried to move, but her wrists were bound with ropes that cut cruelly into her skin. Blinking through the haze, she lifted her head, her heart sinking as she took in her surroundings. Ted and Andromeda were gone—dragged away, no doubt to their deaths. The room was crowded with Death Eaters, their eyes glinting with dark pleasure as they watched her struggle.
And at the center of it all was Bellatrix Lestrange, her wild eyes burning with a manic glee.
"Ah, the little Mudblood's awake," Bellatrix crooned, twirling her wand lazily between her fingers. "How delightful."
Hermione's heart pounded furiously, terror clawing at her throat. Every instinct screamed at her to fight, to run—but she couldn't. She was trapped. And Bellatrix was moving closer, that mad grin stretching across her face.
"No," Hermione whimpered, her voice barely more than a breath. "Please—"
But Bellatrix only laughed, a high, shrill sound that sent chills racing down Hermione's spine.
"Please?" Bellatrix mocked, crouching beside her. "Oh,Mudblood, you should know by now… there's no 'please' here." She leaned in, her face inches from Hermione's. "But don't worry, sweet girl. I'm going to take my time with you."
The room seemed to blur around them as Bellatrix raised her wand, pointing it directly at Hermione's chest. Her heart stuttered, panic roaring through her veins.
"Crucio."
The world exploded into white-hot agony. Hermione screamed, her body convulsing as pain seared through every nerve, every muscle, every bone. It was like being torn apart from the inside out, fire and ice ripping through her veins. She could hear herself screaming, the sound raw and broken, but she couldn't stop—couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn'tdoanything buthurt.
And then, just as suddenly, it stopped.
Hermione lay gasping, tears streaming down her face, her limbs trembling uncontrollably. Bellatrix loomed over her, head tilted to the side as if she were admiring a piece of art.
"Hmm," Bellatrix murmured thoughtfully, tapping her wand against her chin. "That was a good start, but… I think we can do better, don't you?"
Hermione's stomach lurched as Bellatrix shifted, yanking up her sleeve to expose her arm. Her skin was pale and smooth, unmarred—until Bellatrix pressed the tip of her wand against it.
"No," Hermione whispered, horror flooding her chest. "No, no,please—"
"Shh, shh, darling," Bellatrix cooed, her voice sickeningly sweet. "We're just getting started."
The wand began to move, carving into Hermione's flesh with a precision that made bile rise in her throat. Pain erupted anew, sharper, more focused, as Bellatrix slowly, deliberately, etched the letters into her skin.
"M… U… D…"
Hermione's screams tore through the air, filling the room. The pain was excruciating, burning like molten iron as each letter was carved deeper and deeper into her arm. She struggled against the ropes, tears blurring her vision, but there was no escape. No end. Just pain, and Bellatrix's laughter, and the blood running down her arm in thick, dark rivulets.
"B… L… O… O… D…"
"Stop!" Hermione screamed, her voice breaking. "Stop, please—"
But Bellatrix only laughed, pressing the wand deeper, twisting it cruelly with each stroke.
"There," Bellatrix breathed finally, leaning back to admire her handiwork. The wordMudbloodstood out starkly on Hermione's arm, the letters raw and bleeding, pain throbbing with every beat of her heart.
But it wasn't over. Bellatrix's eyes glittered with a manic light as she gripped Hermione's chin, forcing her to look up.
"Do you know what you are,Mudblood?" she whispered, her voice low and vicious. "You're filth. Worthless, dirtyfilth. And now, everyone will know it."
Hermione choked on a sob, her entire body shaking with pain and fear. She was trapped—helpless—and the realization crashed over her like a wave of ice. She was going to die here, in this cold, dark room, surrounded by monsters.
"Someone… please…" she whimpered, her voice broken. "Please,help me…"
"Help?" Bellatrix mocked, her grin widening. "Oh, but who would help a littleMudbloodlike you?"
But then, out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw him. Draco. He stood near the edge of the room, his face pale, eyes wide with horror as he watched her writhe on the floor. His hands were clenched at his sides, his expression torn, conflicted—and for a single, desperate moment, hope flared in her chest.
"Draco!" she screamed, her voice cracking with pain and desperation. "Draco,please!"
His name echoed through the room, raw and pleading. Every eye turned toward him, but Hermione didn't care. She was sobbing now, trembling violently as Bellatrix's grin twisted into a snarl.
"Draco?" Bellatrix purred, her gaze flicking to him. "Oh, little cousin… does theMudbloodthink you'll save her?"
Draco didn't move. He didn't speak. He just stared, frozen, as if trapped between a hundred conflicting emotions. But Hermione could see it in his eyes—the fear, the anguish. And, just for a moment, something else.
"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please, Draco… don't let her—"
"Enough!" Bellatrix snapped, raising her wand again. "TheMudbloodneeds to learn her place."
"Crucio."
Agony exploded through Hermione once more. She screamed, arching off the floor as pain tore through her body, white-hot and all-consuming. But even as her vision blurred, even as darkness closed in around her, she kept her eyes on Draco.
"Please…" she sobbed, her voice barely more than a breath. "Please, Draco…"
But he didn't move.
And then, as the pain overwhelmed her, Hermione's world went black.
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- DRACO -
The drawing room of Malfoy Manor felt suffocating, the air thick with tension and the cloying scent of blood. Death Eaters crowded the space, their eyes gleaming with cruel anticipation, faces twisted into ugly masks of excitement. And at the center of it all, on the cold stone floor, lay Hermione.
Draco stood rigid, pressed against the far wall, his hands clenched so tightly behind his back that his nails bit into his palms. He kept his expression blank, forcing himself to remain a silent observer even as his stomach churned with nausea. His eyes were fixed on her—the girl writhing on the floor, gasping and sobbing as Bellatrix circled her like a predator playing with its prey.
His aunt's voice was a high, grating sing-song as she taunted Hermione, her wand dancing lazily through the air. Each word was like a blade, slicing through the thin veneer of calm Draco had managed to maintain.
"Ah, the little Mudblood's awake. How delightful."
A chorus of dark chuckles rippled through the room, and Draco's hands tightened even further. He bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to stay silent, to stay still. One wrong move, one slip, and Bellatrix would turn her attention on him—and then neither of them would survive this.
But it was getting harder to breathe, harder to keep his expression impassive as Bellatrix loomed over Hermione, her wand hovering above her chest.
"Crucio."
The scream that tore from Hermione's throat shattered something inside Draco. He flinched, his jaw clenching so tightly it ached. She twisted on the floor, her back arching in agony, every muscle in her body contorted as if trying to escape the unbearable pain. Her cries filled the room, raw and broken, echoing off the stone walls.
Draco's vision blurred, his pulse hammering violently in his ears. It was torture—watching her suffer, knowing there was nothing he could do. No way to help. Because if he moved, if he so much as blinked wrong, Bellatrix would turn her wand on him, and Hermione would die anyway.
He forced himself to take a breath, his eyes burning as he fought to keep his mask intact. Just endure it, he told himself desperately. Just—endureit. For her sake.
But then the curse lifted, and Hermione slumped against the floor, her gasping breaths audible even from across the room. Draco swallowed thickly, his throat tight. She was shaking, tears streaking her face, her limbs trembling violently. Every instinct screamed at him to move, to go to her, to pull her away from this nightmare—but he couldn't. Hecouldn't.
"Hmm," Bellatrix murmured, her voice lilting and sweet. "That was a good start, but… I think we can do better, don't you?"
And then she was grabbing Hermione's arm, yanking up her sleeve with a vicious tug. Draco's heart lurched, his eyes widening as Bellatrix's wand pressed against the pale skin of her forearm.
"No…" he breathed, panic surging in his chest. "No, no,don't—"
But his voice was drowned out by Hermione's desperate pleas, her broken sobs as Bellatrix began to carve the letters into her skin. The tip of her wand glowed a sickly red, cutting deep, dark lines into Hermione's flesh. Blood welled up instantly, running in thick, crimson rivulets down her arm.
"M… U… D… B… L… O… O… D…"
Hermione's screams pierced the air, each one a knife twisting deeper into Draco's chest. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think—could only watch, frozen in place, as Bellatrix marked her like a piece of property, a brand for everyone to see.
"Stop," he whispered, his voice strangled. "Please, stop—"
But Bellatrix wasn't listening. She was grinning, her face alight with a terrible, manic glee as she finished the final letter with a flourish. Hermione was sobbing uncontrollably now, her body shaking with the force of it, her arm bleeding profusely onto the floor.
"There," Bellatrix purred, leaning back to admire her work. "Do you see,Mudblood? Do you see what you are?"
Hermione choked on a sob, her head lolling weakly to the side. And then—oh, Merlin—her gaze found his.
"Someone… please…" she whimpered, her voice so small, so broken. "Please,help me…"
Draco's heart shattered. He stared at her, his breath catching in his throat, everything in him screaming to move, to dosomething. But he couldn't. He couldn't. One step out of line, one sign of weakness, and it would all be over.
"Help?" Bellatrix mocked, her grin widening. "Oh, but who would help a littleMudbloodlike you?"
Draco's vision swam, panic roaring through his veins. He needed to act.Neededto dosomething—but he couldn't think, couldn'tbreathe. He was trapped—helpless—and Hermione was going to die because of it.
And then she did the unthinkable.
"Draco!"
His name rang through the room, sharp and desperate, breaking the tense silence like a thunderclap. Every head turned toward him, every gaze boring into him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.
Bellatrix's eyes narrowed dangerously, her smile twisting into something cruel and deadly.
"Draco?" she purred, her gaze snapping to him. "Oh, little cousin… does theMudbloodthink you'll save her?"
Panic surged through him, raw and suffocating. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He could feel every gaze on him, feel the weight of their suspicion, their malice, pressing down on him like a vice.
And still—still—Hermione's eyes were locked on his.
"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please, Draco… don't let her—"
"Enough!" Bellatrix snarled, raising her wand again. "TheMudbloodneeds to learn her place."
"Crucio."
Hermione's screams echoed through the room, reverberating off the walls, shaking Draco to his core. He stared, helpless, as she convulsed on the floor, her body arching in agony, her voice raw and broken as she called out for him again and again.
"Please…" she sobbed, her gaze still clinging to his. "Please, Draco…"
And then, slowly, her eyes fluttered shut.
Draco's world came crashing down around him. He didn't hear Bellatrix's laughter, didn't see the triumphant smirks of the Death Eaters around them. He could only see her—curled in on herself, blood pooling beneath her, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
He'd failed her.
He'd failed her, and now she was—
"Take her away," Bellatrix ordered, her voice sharp and cruel. "Put her in the dungeons."
Draco's blood ran cold. No. No, not the dungeons—not again
But two masked Death Eaters stepped forward, yanking Hermione up by her arms, dragging her limp body toward the door. Draco's heart pounded furiously, his hands trembling violently at his sides. He needed to do something—hadto do something.
But all he could do was stand there.
And watch.
As they took her away.