The Snatchers had come upon them suddenly in the forest, their mocking voices and gleeful expressions still vivid in her memory. She'd fought with every ounce of strength she possessed, throwing spell after spell in a desperate attempt to protect Harry and Ron. But there had been too many. She remembered the moment they'd wrestled Harry's wand away, the sharp jolt of panic in Ron's eyes, and then the blinding pain as something heavy struck her head.

Now they were here—Malfoy Manor. The place was infamous, a fortress of darkness and cruelty. She knew what awaited them within these walls: torture, punishment, and maybe something even worse.

Her body ached all over, and she could still taste blood on her lip where a Snatcher's boot had caught her in the struggle. She glanced around the cold floor of the front room of the manor, her eyes gradually adjusting to the dim light. Ron lay crumpled beside her, unconscious but alive. Relief flooded her, a fleeting sensation that vanished as quickly as it came. Because Harry... where was Harry?

She forced herself to move, gritting her teeth against the pain as she crawled over to Ron, shaking him gently. "Ron," she whispered, her voice hoarse and trembling. "Ron, wake up."

He stirred, groaning softly, and then his eyes snapped open, wild with fear. "Hermione?" he rasped, struggling to sit up. "Where—?"

"Malfoy Manor," she answered grimly, casting another frantic look around the cell. "We were captured. The Snatchers brought us here."

Ron swore under his breath, his eyes darting around as if expecting Death Eaters to burst in at any moment. "Harry?" he asked, panic rising in his voice.

"I—I don't know," Hermione whispered, her chest tightening. "They dragged him off before I woke up."

Ron's face paled. "Merlin's beard… They know who he is, don't they?"

The thought had plagued her since she'd regained consciousness. Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived—was the most hunted wizard in the world. If the Death Eaters had him… if Voldemort knew…

The heavy wooden door of the room creaked open, and a Death Eater strode in. He was tall and thin, his face concealed behind a silver mask that glinted menacingly in the dim torchlight. His wand was already drawn, aimed steadily at them.

"Up," he barked, his voice cold and impatient. "No talking."

Hermione helped Ron to his feet, her hands trembling. Fear coiled tightly in her chest, but she kept her expression steady, refusing to give the Death Eater the satisfaction of seeing her terror. Ron leaned heavily on her as they stumbled forward, guided roughly out and into the bleak stone corridor.

Every corner of the manor seemed to radiate malice. The walls were lined with tapestries woven in black and green, the sinister snake emblem of the House of Malfoy entwined around their borders. The air buzzed with dark magic, making her skin crawl. As they were shoved forward, Hermione caught sight of another group of Snatchers gathered by the grand staircase, whispering excitedly.

And then she saw him.

Harry stood in the center of the room, surrounded by masked figures. His hands were bound, his face bruised and bloodied, but his eyes were fiercely defiant. He caught her gaze for a split second, and Hermione's breath hitched. He was alive, but for how long?

The crowd parted, and she felt Ron tense beside her as Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, his expression taut with desperation. His long, blond hair looked almost white in the flickering torchlight, and his eyes were sharp and calculating as they raked over Harry.

"Are you sure it's him?" he demanded, his voice tight. "If we're wrong—"

"We're not wrong," came a cold, high-pitched voice from behind. Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione shivered involuntarily as the mad witch stepped into view, her smile twisted and wild. "But let's make sure, shall we?"

Hermione's heart sank as she realized what was about to happen. They wanted confirmation—proof that the boy they'd captured really was Harry Potter. But Harry was unrecognizable, his features distorted by Hermione's own spell to keep him hidden. Only someone who knew him well would be able to identify him.

"Bring in Draco," Lucius commanded sharply.

Hermione's blood ran cold. She exchanged a horrified look with Ron, dread pooling in her stomach. Draco Malfoy knew Harry better than anyone else in this house. They'd been enemies since their first year at Hogwarts. If Draco identified him… If he confirmed that it was Harry…

The heavy door to the manor's entrance swung open, and two Death Eaters dragged Draco Malfoy into the room. He looked paler than ever, his gray eyes wide and fearful as they fixed on the scene before him. For a moment, he looked like a trapped animal, caught between his family's expectations and his own humanity.

"Draco," Bellatrix purred, stepping closer to him. "Look closely, darling. Tell us—is this Harry Potter?"

Draco's gaze shifted slowly, reluctantly, to where Harry stood bound and bleeding. The room fell silent, every eye on him. Hermione's breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering wildly.

If Draco said yes, it would be over. They'd take Harry to Voldemort. They'd be killed—Harry first, then her and Ron. And the world, everything they'd fought for, would crumble into darkness.

Draco hesitated, his expression taut with something that almost looked like pain. His gaze flickered from Harry's face to Hermione's, lingering for a fraction of a second before he turned back to Bellatrix.

"I—I'm not sure," he whispered.

But Hermione knew, even as the words left his mouth, that it was only a matter of time. They would force the truth out of him, one way or another. And when they did, there would be no escape.

"Take him away," Lucius growled, gesturing sharply to the guards. "We'll make sure."

The Death Eaters grabbed Draco by the arms, dragging him out of the room. Hermione's heart sank as she watched him go, her mind racing.