Chapter Text
Hermione
Hermione sucked in a breath as she heard Harry utter Voldemort’s name. She felt like she was moving in slow motion as she heard the cracks of apparition all around her. Without thinking, without even knowing what she was doing, she went on autopilot.
First, disguise Harry.
Her hands obeyed this command before she even finished the thought, and she raised her wand and muttered the stinging hex that started to transform his face.
Second, hide the evidence.
She continued to hold her wand in her right hand as she grabbed her beaded bag with her left. She hesitated for a split second.
Sock or bra?
Then her brain produced the answer for her, as it so often did when she was under significant pressure.
Sock. In case they cop a feel and search me.
She shoved her beaded bag into her sock, grateful that it was so small and for once very happy that she had gotten so thin with malnourishment while they were on the run. Her jeans now bagged on her. Hermione had never bothered to learn any fashion spells. This had felt like an unexpected oversight as she, Harry, and even Ron had lost weight, but now she was happy she had ignored Lavender and Parvati’s prattle about fashion all those years. Her pant leg hid the bulge of her bag perfectly.
Third…
But she never got to the third thing, because a figure grabbed her, and all of her attention narrowed onto the most dangerous of her captors.
Fenrir Greyback. Hermione didn’t curse very often, but shit. This is bad.
Her stomach rolled as he grabbed her, and she tried not to panic as she felt his putrid breath on her face. Ron, predictably, started to go mental, and she tried to ignore him so she could think until she saw one of them deck Ron out of the corner of her eye.
“No! Leave him alone, leave him alone!” she gasped, her attention drawn back to Ron.
But Greyback distracted her again as he started to talk to her. “Your boyfriend’s going to have worse than that done to him if he’s on my list. Delicious girl… What a treat… I do enjoy the softness of the skin…”
Hermione tried not to vomit, as she heard Ron shouting again.
Please stop, she thought to herself. I need to think. I can’t think with all of this noise…
She heard voices, but she let them wash over her as she tried to think about what to do. We have to escape. But she knew it was no use. She no longer had her wand. Harry’s wand was broken of course, and she suspected Ron had lost his wand too. They were caught.
Her brain turned back on, as she listened to Harry and Ron give false names.
That won’t work, she thought, but she knew she had to go along with it.
Third thing then: lie.
“Penelope Clearwater! Half-blood!”
She really wished her third task had been to run, but there had been no time. Achieving the first two things on her list had taken priority, and now they were stuck.
She heard Harry and Ron try to spin a story to the Snatchers as she was tied up, and only then did she notice somebody else tied on her left.
“Dean?” came Harry’s voice.
Hermione didn’t know if this helped or hurt. Only now did she notice there was a goblin with them too.
She snapped to attention as they were being questioned, and as usual Harry was doing his best to talk his way out of it. A distant part of her brain registered surprise that the location of the Slytherin common room was so poorly known among the non-Slytherins at Hogwarts. Harry’s ability to give the Snatchers more than a few details made them nervous.
Honestly, doesn’t anybody read Hogwarts, A History?
Then she remembered she had just been captured by Fenrir Grayback. This was really not the time.
Her brain ground back into action as she tried to come up with a way to escape, until she felt something in her heart seize. One of the Snatchers had just emerged from their tent with the Sword of Gryffindor and a newspaper.
No, she thought desperately. We can’t lose the Sword. It’s just as important as the horcruxes.
She heard Harry tell the Snatchers that they borrowed the Sword to cut firewood. She barely resisted wincing as he said it. She knew Harry could lie rather well, but he had a tendency to go off the rails if it went on too long. Based on this feeble explanation he had just provided, she knew they had just crossed that line.
Then Hermione snapped to attention as the Snatchers looked at the newspaper, which she knew contained a very large picture of her own face.
Damn, why did we keep it laying around?
She was kicking herself. They should never have kept articles about themselves in the tent. They should all have been destroyed the moment they were read.
“You know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you.”
“It isn’t! It isn’t me!” gasped Hermione. But she felt her voice break as she said it, and she knew they were done for.
Sure enough, moments later they had positively identified Harry, who suddenly looked like he was in pain.
Oh not now! Hermione thought desperately. He was in the middle of a vision, she could tell. Of all the worst possible times!
She forced her mind to focus on the task at hand. Of the three of them, Harry was the best at getting out of scrapes. They all knew that. But she was probably second, at least when compared to Ron. She had gotten more practice than she ever cared for over the previous year, and she had taken Tonks’ few lessons in defense and conditioning to heart. She tried to remind herself that she had saved them in Godric’s Hollow, and she had saved them again at Xenophilius’s house. Harry would be useless until the vision passed, so it would have to be her. She had to concentrate. She had to pay attention. She couldn’t allow herself to panic in case they caught a moment where they could escape.
She forced herself not to struggle. She had to focus. But before she knew it she was staring at the gates of a large, austere house that could only be described as an estate.
Malfoy Manor, she thought, staring at the house in unabashed amazement. It was massive. It looked palatial. No wonder Malfoy has always been so bloody arrogant.
She was still tied with the others, but she forced herself to stay calm as she stumbled up a drive, passing albino peacocks on the way. She had the wildest impulse to roll her eyes at the ostentatious display of wealth, but she managed to resist.
Again Hermione, this is really not the time to be annoyed by Malfoy.
She glanced sideways at Harry and could see he was still in the middle of his vision. Damn. This one was lasting longer than usual.
Soon, she was being hauled onto the portico of the house, and a tall, elegant woman with white blond hair stepped out of the house to survey them. Hermione recognized her as Narcissa Malfoy, Draco’s mother. She got closer and scrutinized them all, especially Harry. When Narcissa approached her, Hermione’s eyes looked up involuntarily and for a split second they made eye contact.
She knows it’s us, she thought a little desperately.
In that moment their eyes met, however, Hermione got the impression that Narcissa was doing some very quick thinking, and hope unexpectedly bloomed in her chest. But then Narcissa told the Snatchers to bring them in and to fetch Draco to help identify them. Hermione’s hope died in an instant.
I must have been imagining things, she thought, trying once again to keep her panic from erupting.
They were hauled into a large room with an enormous crystal chandelier and deep, plum-colored walls. She saw Lucius Malfoy, and her heart sank even further. Then Narcissa called over Draco to identify them. Hermione gulped. Of course Malfoy would be able to identify them.
“Well Draco?” asked Lucius Malfoy. “Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”
“I can’t – I can’t be sure,” said Draco. Hermione’s heart leapt again. Surely not…
She chanced a direct glance at his face for the first time and saw he looked drawn. He was trying not to make eye contact with any of them, as though he didn’t want to see them there. She could tell he looked reluctant, maybe even afraid. Her mind flashed back to what Harry had told her about him just after they went on the run together.
“Malfoy is living in terror. He’s being forced to torture people. He’s watching Nagini eat people on his dining room table. He’s petrified.”
Hermione hoped with all of her heart that this would be enough to save them, somehow, because so far she hadn’t found an opening.
Draco moved away from them, and then Greyback grabbed her and yanked her toward the Malfoys, who were all standing together now. She fell to her knees.
“What about the Mudblood, then?” he growled.
“Wait,” said Narcissa. “Yes – yes, she was in Madam Malkin’s with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn’t it the Granger girl?”
Hermione was both terrified and enormously confused. She was certain Narcissa had recognized her on the portico. And yet, she was acting as though she was having some sort of revelation about them there in the drawing room.
“I… maybe… yeah,” said Draco.
Hermione felt coldness wash over her. He had confirmed it. She barely noticed it when he confirmed Ron as well.
Her numbness turned to terror when Bellatrix Lestrange walked into the room.
“But surely,” said Bellatrix, “this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?”
“Yes, yes, it’s Granger!” cried Lucius. “And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!”
Hermione closed her eyes and tried to breathe. She looked sideways at Harry, and she could see he had finally come out of his vision. He glanced at her too, and though it was hard to tell with his swollen face, she could see he was also out of ideas as the Death Eaters squabbled over who got to call Voldemort.
This is it, she thought dully. We need a miracle or we’re all going to die.
The miracle came in the form of the Sword of Gryffindor, or so she thought, as Bellatrix noticed it and panicked.
Hermione’s brain reluctantly ground back into motion as she tried not to panic herself and consider why Bellatrix was so scared. But before she could work it out, Bellatrix had stunned all three Snatchers, leaving only Greyback remaining. He, she saw, was forced into a kneeling position to extend the Sword to Bellatrix.
“Where did you find this sword?” she demanded. “Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!”
What on earth? wondered Hermione. She was lost in thought for a moment until she saw Draco moving the three Snatchers out of the sitting room. He threw a look back at them and caught her eyes as he exited. She tore her eyes away from him when she saw how grim he looked, and she forced herself to breathe.
I can’t think about what’s about to happen. I have to stay present.
“Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback,” said Bellatrix. “Wait. All except… except for the Mudblood.”
Hermione felt herself sway on the spot with fear, and she was almost grateful that she was already on her knees. She thought she heard Ron and Harry shouting and struggling against Greyback, but they were bound and wandless and no match for him. Suddenly Bellatrix approached her and cut her free from the others and grabbed her hair.
Hermione felt sharp pain in her head as Bellatrix used her hair to drag her to the middle of the room. She bit her lip as tears leaked out of her eyes until she stopped. Hermione was breathing hard and tried to push herself up when she heard Bellatrix’s voice shout “Crucio! ”
Pain exploded in her body. She was being burned alive. Corrosive acid had flooded her veins. She was being stabbed with a thousand knives. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew it had to be one of those things. It was the only explanation.
In a distant part of her brain, Hermione thought she heard somebody screaming, but she couldn’t be sure. The pain was so overwhelming that it didn’t register.
And then as quickly as it started, it stopped, and she was left gasping on the floor. She had a few seconds of relief before she heard Bellatrix’s voice say something, but she was in such shock she couldn’t focus on the question.
She heard the incantation again, and the pain started all over. Hermione felt her vision swimming with it, her throat going raw with screaming, and she realized there was blood in her mouth. She had bitten her tongue badly as she screamed and screamed.
Again it stopped, and Hermione opened a bleary eye to see the white blonde head of Draco Malfoy returning to the room. He looked ashen as he realized she was the source of the screaming.
Please, she thought. Please help me.
But then Bellatrix was talking to her.
“I’m going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?”
This question managed to make it through Hermione’s ravaged mind, as she shouted back, “We found it – we found it – PLEASE!”
But then Bellatrix cast the spell on her again, and the rest of Hermione’s explanation was lost to the pain and screams.
Harry can’t die yet, she thought desperately. He has to finish it first.
“You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!”
But Bellatrix didn’t give Hermione a chance to respond before she cast the curse yet again, and Hermione felt every nerve ending in her body explode with pain. She closed her eyes and almost wished to die, as it suddenly stopped again. Bellatrix’s voice said something else, but again Hermione didn’t catch it, and there was no time to ask her to repeat it before Hermione was under the curse again.
She now thought of the Longbottoms. This is what she did to them, she thought as all the pain in her body threatened to overwhelm her. I’m going to be insane just like they are.
The pain stopped and Hermione forced her eyes open. She could only stare at Draco Malfoy’s face. His entire attention was focused on her, and she was a bit pleased to see he looked sick as he watched.
Ha, she thought dully. You may hate me but you don’t have the stomach for this, do you?
And then as she watched, Narcissa Malfoy slid over to stand near him, and Hermione turned a dull eye toward her as well.
“What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!” shouted Bellatrix, and then Hermione was thrust back into the fire once again. She screamed and screamed, because it was the only release she had, until Bellatrix decided she was done with her. But she wasn’t done with her yet. This time it kept going and going and going and she felt her vision fading.
Then she heard a gentle voice in her head whisper, “You must answer her. Answer her.”
“How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?” screeched Bellatrix.
“Tell her something, anything, my dear,” said the soft whisper.
“We only met him tonight!” Hermione gasped. “We’ve never been inside your vault… It isn’t the real sword! It’s a copy, just a copy!”
Then she collapsed and waited for the pain to come again, but it didn’t. She slowly opened her eyes to find Narcissa staring at her intently for a moment before moving to the side, and then all she could see was Draco. He cast one last horrified look at her as he turned to leave the drawing room. They had both left her. Hermione thought her heart might be breaking.
No help. I’m not getting any help, she thought bitterly, as her vision was going in and out of focus. She decided to play dead as she heard Bellatrix muttering with Lucius and Narcissa. It was all she could do.
The pain began again, and Hermione felt her screams getting weaker. She was fading, she knew it. She couldn’t last much longer. No miracle was coming for her. She would die here, and then Harry would die here. They had failed. They had lost. Her last thought was for her parents, and she was glad she had obliviated them. For the first time ever, she was really happy she had done it.
They’re safe, she thought. I’m going to die, and they won’t miss me. Good. That’s good.
Her screams finally died in her throat as blackness washed over her. The last thing she heard before she passed out was the bang of the door and a shout. But she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. All she could see as the darkness overwhelmed her was a flash of white blonde hair.
******
Draco
Draco Malfoy had been living a nightmare for nearly two years now. From the moment he was initiated into the Death Eaters, his situation had gotten steadily worse and had declined rather significantly ever since Snape killed Dumbledore for him at the top of the astronomy tower.
To be fair, the immediate aftermath of Dumbledore’s death could have been much worse. To his shock, Snape had actually covered for him. The moment Snape and Draco got to their rendezvous point in the Forbidden Forest, Snape had gone into action. In a rather astonishing display of quick thinking, he told Draco to follow his lead, and they crouched behind a tree in the dark and managed to stun all who made it into the clearing. It was Draco’s luck that this included every Death Eater who had been at the top of the tower with them. Snape had then stepped out and obliviated them all, planting a false memory in them that Draco had been successful in his mission. Then Snape revived them and dragged Draco to Malfoy Manor himself, where he proceeded to lie to the Dark Lord’s face.
Draco watched in shock as Snape strode forward and declared Draco Malfoy to be the Dark Lord’s most valuable protégé. Snape had actually invited the Dark Lord to view Snape’s own memories of the event, and that was how Draco learned that Snape was as advanced an occlumens as he was, if not more so. He had always suspected it, but he had never been certain until that moment. To Draco’s knowledge, the only other person who could successfully show false memories to the Dark Lord was Draco himself. Draco, of course, had kept this talent quiet.
The Dark Lord had been thrilled with Draco’s supposed performance, and Draco knew that Snape’s actions saved Draco and his family that night. But as the summer wore on and Draco was forced to torture Death Eaters and other prisoners, the chinks in his armor started to show. He could barely hold a cruciatus curse long enough to satisfy his aunt or the Dark Lord. He had not had to kill, but he was terrified of the day he would be asked to do it. He hadn’t managed to kill Dumbledore, and he wasn’t sure he could kill anybody else either, at least not with an Avada Kedavra.
The only people who knew the truth about Draco were Snape and Narcissa. Draco couldn’t bear for his mother to think that he was a murderer, and she herself was an exceptional occlumens, though she used a strategy that was different than Draco’s. It was Narcissa’s good luck that it had never occurred to the Dark Lord that a woman could be so adept at occlumency, and so he rarely bothered to search her mind.
His family’s “victory” with Dumbledore’s death had been cut short when Lucius, still not totally forgiven for the fiasco in the Department of Mysteries, had given the Dark Lord his wand to hunt Potter. When Potter destroyed his father's wand, the Dark Lord had blamed the entire Malfoy family for its malfunction. Their importance in the Dark Lord’s ranks had started to slide once again.
One month, Draco thought bitterly. Snape’s deception bought me and my parents life and one month of favor before it was gone again because of something that was nobody’s fault.
It had come as a relief to escape to Hogwarts, until it soon became clear that he was going to be forced to torture other students as part of the Carrows’ regime. After a few weeks of this, he did his best to spread this duty around, telling the Carrows that students other than him needed the practice. To his surprise, this excuse usually worked, and Draco was reserved for the biggest rulebreakers, though quite a few of them disappeared at Christmas, much to Draco’s relief.
As the youngest Death Eater and the only Hogwarts student among the Death Eaters, Draco held a special place at the school that year and had even been named Head Boy. Draco, of course, delegated most of his work to the Head Girl, Tracy Davis, whom Draco had never really cared for. Draco knew she didn’t like it, but she didn’t dare contradict him. Draco was sure she was terrified of him, as were others in Slytherin house. Even those friends who used to be close to him had become distant. Blaise, Theo, and Pansy had started walking on eggshells around him in sixth year, and he found himself withdrawing from them even further in seventh. He suspected Theo and maybe Pansy would be pulled into it without him after Hogwarts was done, but he didn’t want to be the reason they were Marked. So they all kept their distance from each other by some unspoken, mutual agreement.
Hogwarts had become very lonely, and the only thing he enjoyed about it was his own room with a fireplace, which was provided to him as Head Boy. Snape had even connected the fireplace to the floo network so Draco could return home to the Manor on an as-needed basis without alerting any other students. The room itself became his sanctuary, and though it enhanced his solitude, it also gave him the privacy and security he needed to finally think about everything that was happening to his family.
Draco knew that the situation with the Dark Lord had become intolerable. The Dark Lord was ruthless and unforgiving. All the glory his father had always talked about had failed to materialize, leaving only terror in its place. It didn’t take too many months of reflection in his new room at Hogwarts to realize he was banking on Harry Potter. Potter might be one of his least favorite people of all time - second only to Weasley of course - but Draco needed him to pull off the impossible and actually win. It was the only way to end the fear he and his family had been living with for the last two years.
His mother, he knew, felt the same way. She had never told him this directly, but they were very close. He could read it on her face whenever they were alone. And she had gone out of her way to protect him, using his return to Hogwarts and his position as Head Boy to excuse him from many Death Eater duties. Draco was just relieved that the Dark Lord accepted these explanations for Draco’s absence at all but the most important meetings.
Yes, Potter needs to win, he thought. And because he now believed this more than he had ever believed anything, the horror he felt when Potter, Weasley, and Granger were dragged into Malfoy Manor was nearly indescribable. He was certain Potter was about to lose the war right there in the Malfoy drawing room.
His mother, in an odd show of bravado, insisted Draco identify them, but Draco dragged his feet about it. He stalled. He didn’t know what else he could do with his father and Greyback standing there, and then his hands had become really tied as soon as Aunt Bella strode in and immediately recognized Granger.
Fuck it all, he thought, as he watched the scene play out. He was frozen, unable to move, until Aunt Bella panicked about some sword and stunned all the Snatchers. Draco was grateful for the excuse to escape the drawing room for a moment while he levitated them all out into the courtyard, but then he heard the screams start. High screams. Female screams. On and on it went, and for some reason Draco felt his heart seize at the sound. He dropped the Snatchers where they were and sprinted back into the drawing room to find Granger twitching on the floor as Aunt Bella questioned her, barely giving her time to respond before starting the curse all over again.
She has to stop! he thought in a near panic. Granger is the brains of everything! Bella needs to stop!
Draco was barely aware of what was happening around him, as Granger’s screams echoed in his head, until she finally said something to make the torture stop, at least briefly. Aunt Bella sent Draco to the dungeons to get the goblin, and Draco was grateful again for the escape, pausing only long enough to cast a worried glance back at Granger as he left. She was in bad shape, but Draco didn’t know how he could help her.
It wasn’t long after Draco returned with the goblin that Aunt Bella called the Dark Lord and all hell broke loose. Potter and Weasley barged in and stunned his father and disarmed Bellatrix. Draco saw Granger had passed out as Bellatrix pulled her up and threatened her with a knife. Draco saw a deep cut beginning in her neck, and he felt himself start to truly panic now.
Of course Potter and Weasley dropped their wands when Bellatrix demanded it. Of course they did. Draco didn’t even blame them. They didn’t have a shot without Granger. Draco was sure that she was their secret weapon. Relieved that Bella had stopped what she was doing, Draco darted forward and grabbed the wands until a curious squeaking and crunching sound caused the entire room to go silent as they all looked up at the chandelier.
Slowly, ever so slowly, it was unscrewing itself from the ceiling, directly over Aunt Bella and Granger.
What the…? thought Draco, but before he could complete the thought he watched in horror as it fell, and Aunt Bella dropped Granger and darted out the way. The entire chandelier fell directly on top of an unconscious Granger. Instinctively Draco dove out of the way of the exploding glass.
She’s dead, he thought, as he stood up again shakily, his mind going numb as he thought about this. There’s no way she survived that.
He didn’t have another moment to process it though because Potter was running forward and wrenching the wands from him. He grabbed the Sword before running toward a House Elf who had just appeared, as he cast a look of pure heartbreak toward Granger. He heard Weasley crying like a wounded animal as he stared at the blood slowly seeping out from under the chandelier.
She’s dead. They know she’s dead, Draco thought in an oddly detached sort of way. He was staring at her, and he barely registered it when the House Elf turned and apparated both Potter and Weasley away, with Aunt Bella’s knife stuck into its chest.
For a split second it was like all the air was sucked out of the room. Potter got away, but Granger is dead. That might as well be the end, he thought. Potter can’t win without her.
He suddenly snapped out of it when he heard his mother’s voice shout “Stupefy!” twice in rapid succession, and he spun around to see Aunt Bella and Greyback both hit the floor.
“Quickly Draco!” she gasped as she threw him her wand. “Levitate it so I can check on her! We have very little time before the Dark Lord arrives!”
Draco forced himself to ignore the sudden surge of hope, and he did as his mother requested. His mother dropped to her knees as the chandelier rose off of Granger, and Draco felt bile in his throat at the sight. She had dozens of shallow cuts from the glass all over her body and was bleeding profusely. One arm was at an odd angle, clearly broken. Draco was sure there was nothing to be done, but then his mother yelled, “She has a pulse!” and Draco’s heart leapt.
“Tippy!” she shouted, and a little house elf that Draco knew his mother had brought with her from the House of Black immediately appeared. “Take her to the East Wing and tend to her. We will be there as soon as we can! Do not speak to anybody about this except for me or Draco, not even if you are directly questioned. Do you understand me?”
“Yes mistress!” squeaked the little elf, and Draco watched as she immediately grabbed Granger’s ankle and disapparated.
“Mother, what…” started Draco. He knew the East Wing was closed off. His father had sealed it off years ago after his grandparents died, in accordance with Malfoy family tradition. It was unused and would remain that way until Draco got married.
“Not now…” muttered his mother, snatching her wand back from Draco and striding over to Bellatrix and Greyback. “Obliviate,” she said over both of them, and Draco’s eyes widened.
Then she spun to look at him. “Now listen to me carefully. When the Dark Lord arrives, you must occlude Ms. Granger. The story you need to tell him is that Potter got the wands and stunned Bella, Grayback, and me and then Weasley dragged her out, and they were all about to escape before they stunned you at the last second. You need to make it look like she’s dead. I planted a memory in Bella and Grayback that will back this up in case they are searched. You must show him that regardless of what he does to you. Do you understand me?”
Draco nodded mutely. He wasn’t exactly sure what his mother’s plan was, but it would be catastrophic if he showed the Dark Lord the truth. And he could do it. He was a superb occlumens. He had occluded bigger things than this from the Dark Lord before.
“Good,” said his mother. “And whichever one of us is released first goes and tends to her immediately. The other follows as soon as possible. She’s in bad shape.”
Again he nodded.
“Very well. I’m going to stun you first and then stun myself. You can do this, Draco.”
Draco gulped, as he nodded and watched his mother’s lips move. He saw a flash of red light and then nothing.