Fractured Ch.21
The chill of the dungeons clung to Hermione long after the Death Eaters had thrown her back into her cell. The stone walls around her seemed to hum with dark magic, a constant reminder of her imprisonment in Malfoy Manor. Her wrists throbbed from the restraints, her body aching from Voldemort's casual displays of power. Yet, she refused to cry.
Her mind raced with thoughts of Harry and Ron. Were they safe? Did they even know she was missing? She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. She had to believe they would find her, even as despair threatened to take root.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor, breaking her thoughts. Hermione scrambled back against the wall, her heart pounding. She expected Bellatrix or another Death Eater, but the figure that appeared at the edge of the torchlight made her stomach twist in surprise.
Draco Malfoy.
He approached the cell with an expression that was hard to read—cold, perhaps curious, but not cruel. His pale face was shadowed, his silver eyes avoiding hers as he stopped in front of the iron bars.
Hermione sat up straighter, her voice sharp despite the exhaustion. "Come to gloat, Malfoy?"
Draco's jaw tightened. "Keep your voice down," he hissed, glancing over his shoulder to ensure they were alone.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why? Afraid someone might hear you talking to the Mudblood?"
He flinched at the word, his expression briefly cracking before returning to its usual aloof mask. "I'm not here to argue with you, Granger."
"Then why are you here?"
Draco didn't answer immediately. He stared at the bars as if weighing his words, his fingers tapping against his wand. "I wanted to know what he said to you. What he plans to do."
Hermione let out a bitter laugh. "What he plans to do? He's planning to separate us, Malfoy. Erase us. Just another step in his twisted agenda."
"I know about the Separation," Draco said quietly. His voice carried no malice, only a weary resignation. "But I didn't think he'd—" He stopped himself, his words trailing off into silence.
"Didn't think he'd what?" Hermione demanded, her anger flaring. "Go this far? Turn human lives into pawns for his sick vision of the world? You're deluded if you think he's going to stop here, Malfoy. No one's safe."
Draco's gaze snapped to hers, his face taut. "Don't lecture me, Granger. You don't know what I've had to—"
He stopped again, shaking his head as if clearing it of an unwanted thought.
"Why do you even care?" Hermione pressed, her voice quieter now, tinged with curiosity. "Why are you here?"
Draco didn't respond immediately. He looked away, his fingers tightening around his wand. "Maybe I don't," he said finally. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you're as insufferable in a cell as you are in the castle."
Hermione's lip curled in disgust. "You're pathetic."
Draco let out a dry laugh. "And you're in no position to judge."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The distant drip of water and the occasional scuttle of rats filled the silence.
"I don't know why I'm here," Draco admitted at last, his voice barely audible. "But you... you shouldn't have come. You shouldn't have left Hogwarts."
Hermione's eyes flashed with anger. "I wasn't about to sit around while Voldemort tears the world apart!"
Draco winced at the name but said nothing.
"You don't get it, do you?" she continued, her voice trembling. "This isn't about bloodlines or traditions or whatever pure-blood fantasy you're clinging to. It's about people. Innocent people who don't deserve this—who shouldn't have to suffer because of someone else's hatred."
Draco stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Hermione thought she saw something flicker in his eyes—doubt, perhaps even guilt. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
"You're going to get yourself killed," he said flatly.
Hermione held his gaze, unflinching. "Better to die fighting than to live as a coward."
Draco's lips pressed into a thin line. Without another word, he turned and strode back down the corridor, his footsteps echoing until they faded into silence.
Draco climbed the stairs from the dungeons, his mind a chaotic mess. He could still see Hermione's face, pale but determined, her words ringing in his ears.
Better to die fighting than to live as a coward.
He hated how those words struck a nerve. He wasn't a coward—not really. He was just... trying to survive. Wasn't that what everyone was doing in this war?
But the image of Hermione, defiant even in chains, refused to leave him. He told himself he didn't care. She was just another prisoner, another casualty of a conflict he had no control over.
And yet, the thought of her being dragged off to some camp, or worse...
Draco shook his head sharply, pushing the thought away. He couldn't afford to think like that.
As he entered the grand hall, his mother approached him, her face tight with concern. "Draco, where have you been?"
"Nowhere," he said quickly.
Narcissa's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't press him. "Your father has requested your presence in the study. The Dark Lord may require assistance later."
Draco nodded mutely, brushing past her without another word.
As he climbed the stairs to the study, his thoughts turned to Hermione once more. He didn't know what he could do, or even if he should do anything. But one thing was certain—her presence in the Manor had stirred something in him, something he couldn't ignore.
A few weeks later, Draco found himself back outside Hermione's cell, this time with a tray of food. He didn't know why he had insisted on bringing it himself instead of letting the house-elves handle it. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was guilt.
Hermione looked up as he set the tray down, her expression weary but still sharp. "What, no insults today?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Draco leaned against the bars, arms crossed. "I figured you'd appreciate the silence."
She hesitated before reaching for the food, her movements slow. Draco didn't miss the way her hands trembled slightly.
"You're not eating enough," he observed.
Hermione scoffed. "Brilliant deduction, Malfoy. Maybe you should be an Auror after the war."
Draco smirked faintly. "And maybe you should learn when to shut up."
Hermione didn't respond immediately, studying him instead. "Why are you really here?"
Draco exhaled, looking away. He didn't have an answer—not one he was willing to admit.
After a long pause, Hermione sighed. "If you're going to keep coming down here, at least bring a book next time."
Draco blinked, surprised by the request, before shaking his head with a small, almost reluctant chuckle. "Only you, Granger."