Isolation Chapter 31: Marks

Tap, tap, tap.

Draco tried to cling to sleep and nestled his face a little deeper into the pillow of velvet-soft curls under his cheek. He was warm and comfortable, trying to return to a dream he didn't remember, and he tightened his grip on Granger.

Tap, tap, tap.

"Sod off," he grumbled tiredly.

But then he remembered that they weren't back in Hogwarts in Granger's dorm, despite the familiarity of having her in his arms again. All the mayhem of yesterday came back to him like a bolt of lightening, jolting him awake and sending a pounding headache to the back of his brain. He propped himself up and immediately checked Granger, watching her for a moment as her chest expanded with deep, sleepy breaths. She looked as she would on any other morning; peaceful and well, save the yellow remains of a few bruises, and her still pallid complexion.

Tap, tap, tap.

He shot a frustrated look at the door and decided to ignore it. It couldn't have been before six in the morning judging by the dim, blue light in the room, which meant he'd barely managed two hours sleep. He was exhausted and furious that someone would dare to disturb him after he and Granger and barely been reunited, especially when it was probably bloody Weasley coming back for round two.

"Draco," Tonks' hushed voice filtered through the door. "Draco, are you awake? I'm coming in-

"No, don't," he groused. "What the hell do you want?"

"Just open the bloody door."

"No."

"Do it, or I'm coming in."

His lip curled with irritation as he carefully untangled his legs from Granger's and left the bed with some colourful profanities on the tip of his tongue. He grabbed his wand and crossed the room, pulling the door open just a crack and narrowing a glare at his cousin through the small gap.

"You'd better have a good reason for-

"How's she doing?" asked Tonks. "Is she awake?"

"No."

"Then you should come and get some breakfast."

"What are you on about?" he frowned. "It's what, six in the morning?"

"Half six actually," she corrected. "The others will be waking soon, and I thought it would be best for you to get some food now. Harry and Ron will want to see her, and I won't be able to delay them for long if you want to have some privacy with her."

Draco scrutinised her warily and considered her suggestion, a little thrown by her offer to help. "I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"That's irrelevant-

"You need to have some food," she pressed. "Wouldn't you rather get it now when everyone is still in bed? Come on, and then you can stay in here with her, and I will do what I can to make sure you can have some more time alone."

"For Salazar's sake," he growled, glancing at Granger over his shoulder before he left the room. "Fine, let's go then."

"Not really a morning person, are you?"

"Not when my girlfriend's unconscious and I have bloody cousin who won't piss off, no," he said stiffly, noticing her amused grin as they headed downstairs. "What?"

"You called Hermione your girlfriend."

"What are you, fucking twelve?"

"It was simply an observation-

"A pointless one," he grumbled. "Do you honestly think I would be here if I just considered her a casual acquaintance? Bloody moron."

"And lose the mood or you're not having any bacon with your full English."

Draco rolled his eyes as they entered the kitchen and dining area; the room that had been so hectic and frenzied just yesterday now completely clean and organised. No overturned furniture, no scattered ornaments, and no blood stains. He swore he could still smell it though, the panic and the gore, and his eyes studied that table Granger had been on as his stomach twitched with discomfort.

"Do we have to eat in here?"

"Where else would we eat?" asked Tonks, shrugging her shoulders.

"The sitting room?"

"Dobby's body is in the sitting room," she told him. "This room has been Scourgified multiple times. I assure you it's clean."

Draco hesitantly sat himself at the table as Tonks began to recite a few incantations for the breakfast to make itself, and he jerked in his seat when he felt something brush up against his calf. Looking down, he met with a pair of wide, orange eyes, and then there was a tatty mass of ginger fur hopping onto his lap.

"I'd wondered where he'd gotten to," said Tonks. "That's Hermione's cat, Cr-

"Crookshanks," he finished for her, lifting an eyebrow when Granger's pet nuzzled his nose against his hand. "Yes, I know. Merlin forbid she pick an attractive cat."

"Clever thing, though," she remarked, pausing to give him a knowing look. "Good judge of character."

.

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.

Hermione bolted upright in bed with a gasp that might have been a scream if her throat hadn't felt like sandpaper.

Her head was fuzzy and her muscles tired, but her defensive instincts were immediate as she fumbled around for her wand or her bag, alarmed when she could find neither. Her wild eyes scanned the room, and while she thought she might recognise it, she couldn't figure out why and she was wary to relax, knowing how easily someone could have altered the space with a few shrewd spells.

She tried to think back, remembering the Manor and that first blast of the Cruciatus Curse in Bellatrix's screeching voice, but that was all she could recall. It was all very misty and fractured after that…just a lot of screaming. So then where was she?

She placed her hand flat against the mattress, finding it warm. Merlin knew how, but she just knew someone had laid beside her in the bed, and it made her unbearably nervous.

"Harry?" she called, her voice low and rough, unrecognisable. "Ron?"

She hadn't really expected a response, but she'd hoped for one. The pain registered then and she thought she might vomit; the aftershocks of Bellatrix's merciless torture making her body throb in time with her heartbeats. Everywhere was tender and sore, but her arm in particular stung like a fresh burn, and she eyed the red and damp bandage with uncertainty. For a second, she considered removing the dressing, but decided that it was probably wise to resist until she knew where she was and exactly who had applied it.

She ran her hand up and down the mattress and tested the remains of body heat against her fingertips. Whoever had shared this bed with her hadn't long left. She scanned the room again, searching for anything suspicious or any indication of another person, but the contents were minimal; the bed, a dresser, and a wardrobe.

She debated with herself for a minute whether leaving the room was the best idea but, as always, curiosity gave her a firm shove towards a decision, even if it was the wrong one. Shedding the covers, she winced as she shifted her body to the edge of the bed and planted her feet on the floor, but the moment she rested her weight on them she went tumbling down. She groaned as the impact sent a sharp wave of pain around her already aching body, and she tried to stand, but it was futile.

Her legs were unstable and weak, almost numb, and she instantly hated the predicament she was in. She didn't do fragile or helpless, and the idea of being unable to get to her feet frustrated her, especially when she already felt vulnerable in this disconcerting situation. She thought about crawling to the door but knew it wasn't a safe idea, so she put all her strength in her arms and tried to pull herself back up on the bed.

.

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.

"No, finish your food, Draco," said Tonks. "And stop shovelling it down like that or you'll choke."

He glowered at his cousin. "I'm sorry, I must've missed the announcement about you being my minder."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, you know."

"Whoever said that was just pissed off that he couldn't do it properly," he replied, pushing away his plate and leaving his chair. "Right, I'm done."

"Maybe you should take Crookshanks up with you," she suggested before he could leave. "Hermione must've missed him, and he's been pining for her-

"Not yet. I don't want there to be any distractions when she wakes up if she's going to have trouble as it is, and that cat's a bloody attention-seeking thing-

"Have trouble?" repeated Tonks with a frown. "What do you mean?"

He slanted his eyes away from her. "It doesn't matter-

"No, wait a moment. What are you anxious about? Are her injuries not healing-

"Look, I'm not thick," he cut in. "I know what the Cruciatus Curse can do to people's minds."

Tonks' lips pursed with understanding. "You're worried she won't remember you," she mumbled, watching Draco as he flexed his fists with anxiety. "You needn't be concerned with that. The victim will usually have been subjected to days of the Curse before it has any effect on their memory or-

"You're underestimating Bellatrix's power-

"I'm not, Draco-

"Yes, you are!" he shouted. "I don't know what it is with you sodding people, but not everything will turn out all fucking brilliant with a side order of rainbows and stardust!"

"I was just trying to-

"Sometimes, things are just shit, and that is the end of it! Your ability to be optimistic about everything would almost be impressive if it wasn't laughable!"

Tonks frowned. "You're mocking me for having hope?"

"No, I pity you for relying on it."

"You pity me for hoping that my father didn't die in vain, and that my son will grow up in free world?" she said with a terse tone. "I don't rely on hope, Draco, it just helps to get me through the day sometimes, and it will help us win this war."

"Well, that's your deluded opinion-

"And I don't believe you would be here if you didn't have the smallest dose of hope that Hermione will remember you, and that you might have a life after this, with her-

"Enough," he breathed through his gritted teeth. "You keep your word and make sure Potter and Weasley stay out of my way."

He left the kitchen without waiting for a response, walking with an agitated gait and swallowing hard to shift the uncomfortable heat under his collar. Tonks' words about a life after the war had left him anxious as he'd purposely avoided considering his future if Voldemort was defeated. The issue of his parents and their inevitable disapproval of Granger meant he would need to make more choices that would ultimately alter his life dramatically, if they all made it out alive.

It hardly seemed worth mapping out his future when there were so many cracks in the present.

At the moment, all Draco could think to do was to return to Granger's side and savour her company when she woke up. If she remembered him, and that if was his sole priority right now. The others could wait at the back of his skull. He climbed the stairs and went back the bedroom, expecting to find Hermione where he'd left her, and having every intention of joining her under the covers until she roused.

He pushed open the door, took a few strides into the room, and the first thing he saw was a flash of those familiar auburn curls whipping to the side, and then he was staring at those wide, brown eyes that he'd missed, and they stared straight back at him. He froze where he stood with his breath trapped in his throat, no more than four feet away from her, and they simply looked at each other in silence for the longest minute of his life.

She was half-on-half-off the bed, awkwardly resting her weight on her arms and upper body, craning her head over her shoulder to see him. Her lips were parted with surprise and her features were completely still in a stunned expression, and he searched every inch of her for any hint of recognition, but all she did was hold his gaze like she was challenging him to disappear.

But then she blinked, and the small gesture seemed to make the clocks tick again.

He wasn't sure if the strength in her arms gave or is she'd tried to hurl herself towards him, but she swivelled her body around, and a protective instinct pulled him towards her to break her fall. She knocked his balance and they sank to the floor, her movements clumsy with desperation as she practically clawed at him, clambering up his chest until her arms were latched around his neck and her body was tight against his. She clutched him like it had been years and not months; her fingernails digging into his shoulder-blades almost painfully, not that he cared.

He snaked an arm around her waist and his other hand grabbed her hair, moving it to her other shoulder so he could rest his mouth just below her ear and feel her heartbeat against his lips. Not a kiss, just contact; skin touching skin.

She was holding him so tight she trembled, embracing him with everything she had, and her breath was in his hair, leaving her in shallow, little gasps. And they just sat there on the floor in a tangled bundle of limbs; locked around each other, simply inhaling and exhaling.

"You remember me."

He hadn't meant to say it aloud, and if he hadn't been so close to her ear, she'd have never heard it.

"Impossible to forget," she mumbled back. "You are…carved into me."

He clenched his eyes shut. Her voice sounded so different; scratchy and coarse, but it was a relief to hear it nonetheless. She felt so warm and so real, like she might dissolve into him, and he completely lost himself. Never had he felt so broken down and exposed, but he was too absorbed by her to pay it any heed.

How long had it even been? Two months? It felt so much longer, but then sleepless nights drag on with no reflection of time. And their parting back at Hogwarts had been so rushed and destructive, and then yesterday when he had just powerlessly watched her bleed…fuck, it had all been so intense, but now everything was calm and…it was easier to breathe again.

Hermione couldn't suppress the need to simply touch him, scraping her fingernails across the grooves of his back, the nape of his neck, and grazing his hairline. His scent was how it had always been; musky and wonderful, and she buried her face into the sway of his shoulder until it was all she could smell. Her heart was hammering in her chest so fast and heavy with excitement, shock, awe, and her chest was swelling just to keep the emotions contained. Feathering a few chaste kisses against his skin, she closed her eyes and felt some inevitable tears slip down her cheeks.

Draco pushed her back so their noses were inches apart, and she was momentarily stuck breathless by how close he was. She could see him properly now, all of him; the tell-tale lines and shadows of insomnia cresting his eyes, and the permanent frown on his lips. He broke the eye contact to track the slow path of one of her tears, and she felt him loosen his grip as his brow wrinkled with worry.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, no, of course not," she assured him quickly. "I'm just…I'm just happy to see you. Wasn't sure I would again, to be honest." She'd choked a little with that last part, but she covered it well and brushed her thumb along the ridge of his cheekbone. "I missed you."

He wondered how she could do that; wear her heart, and mind, and soul on her sleeve with such ease. There were hundreds of things he wanted to say, but he knew he wouldn't, and not because he thought confessing them would make him weak in her eyes, but because actions had more gravity where he was concerned.

So he leaned in and kissed her.

Not hard and not particularly soft, just firm enough that she could feel something from him that was sincere and strong enough to communicate how it felt to have her here. There were no fiery undertones to the gesture, no intentions borrowed by lust. It was just a simple, pure kiss.

His hand cupped her face so his fingers were entwined with her curls, and her sigh tingled his chin before he pressed his lips to hers. He pulled away and then kissed her again, and then again, and again, pushing more pressure each time. He pinched at her mouth with small tugs and nips, until their parted and damp lips were simply touching, and their elevated breaths were clashing between them.

Hermione dropped her forehead against his and made a small sound of contentment, and they just stayed like that for a few minutes with Draco rubbing the pad of his thumb in absent circles against her cheek. But it all ended too soon.

Hermione reared back with an alarmed expression. "The boys," she said. "The boys, Harry and Ron, are they-

"They're fine," he told her, resisting the temptation to make a snide comment or roll his eyes. "Everyone is fine, they're all here-

"Everyone? There were others?"

"Lovegood, Thomas, and Ollivander," he listed. "They're all okay. Fuck, I think Lovegood is already skipping around an imaginary maypole after sniffing too much Valerian-

"Draco-

"You had the worst injuries, Granger," he said, his tone sombre. "Trust me, everyone else is fine."

"Good, that's good," she mumbled absently. "But then how-

"Granger, if you're going to start hounding me with questions like the Swedish Wizards' Inquisition of 1512, then we should get off the floor."

"The Swedish Wizards' Inquisition was in 1496."

He couldn't help but smirk at her correction; so typical of her, regardless of the circumstances, and the familiarity of her bookish character was instantly appeasing. "You're wrong, but we can discuss it on the bed if you really-

"Wait. I need…I can't," she stuttered clumsily, and Draco thought she looked embarrassed. "I can't feel my legs properly. The curses must've affected my nerves…perhaps Neurapraxia or something. Can you…can you help me up?"

He knew her well enough to recognise she begrudged having to ask for help, so he nodded his head and refrained from making a comment about it, and made a mental note to mention it to Tonks later. He altered his footing and picked her up, one hand under her knees and the other supporting her back as he carefully placed her on the bed, seating himself behind her and drawing her to his chest.

Again, so familiar. Almost nostalgic. All that was missing was one of her silly Muggle books and her pesky cat purring at their feet, and it would be just like it had been before. She melted into him like it was the most natural thing in their world, and his arms folded around her just like they always had done, relaxing across her abdomen while his chin settled against her shoulder.

"This feels like home," she whispered delicately, like the comment was for her benefit alone. "Draco, where are we?"

"Tonks' house."

"I thought I recognised it a little. This room's quite similar to the one I stayed in when I was here." She paused. "But how come you're here?"

"Tonks brought Blaise and I from Andromeda's house."

"You've been staying with Andromeda? That's where the Portkey took you?" she asked. "That was…actually a very wise decision on McGonagall's part-

"You say wise, I say fucking mental."

"You don't get on well?" she asked, tilting her head to give him a doubtful look. "You called her 'Aunt 'Dromeda' easily enough."

Draco hesitated and licked his teeth. "It's better than it was, I guess."

"You said Tonks brought you and Blaise? As in Blaise Zabini?"

"Yes, there was a few of us staying at Andromeda's," he said. "Blaise, Theo, Bulstrode, Davis, Bletchley, and myself. Andromeda's basically running a secret safehouse for Slytherins who don't want to follow You-Know-Who, and have pissed off their parents in doing so."

"Wow," breathed Hermione, after a slight pause. "You know, I'd actually wondered what had happened to some of the people in your House. Andromeda must be very brave. I heard about Ted, and to deal with that while caring for a group of people she hardly knows…I can't imagine."

"She's fine."

"So why did Tonks only bring you and Blaise here?"

"Well, at the risk of sounding like one of those gossiping Prat-il twins-

"Patil."

"That's not what we called them in the Slytherin common room," he muttered. "Anyway, Blaise came because he and Lovegood are an item of sorts."

Hermione blinked. "Luna? Luna and Blaise?"

"Apparently her father assisted Aunt 'Dromeda with the safehouse, and Lovegood visited quite often," he told her flippantly. "Often enough that she and Blaise started their little…thing."

"That's why she kept disappearing at Hogwarts," she mumbled to herself. "That's…certainly an interesting development."

"I think 'fucking bizarre' is a more appropriate description."

"Who are we to judge?" she replied quickly. "Our relationship would hardly be considered conventional by most of the people we know."

He arched an eyebrow with reluctant agreement and kissed her throat. "Any more questions?"

"Hundreds," she sighed. "I would like to ask a bit more about Blaise and Luna, and some other things, but I think I'm done for a moment."

Draco clenched his eyes shut. "I have some questions."

He felt her stiffen in his arms, and he knew she was preparing herself for it, for the inevitable discussion about his family and their involvement with her ordeal at his old home. It hung in the air between them; heavy and foreboding, and he regretted having to broach the topic, but he needed to know.

"Okay," she said warily. "What do you want to know?"

He held her a little tighter and wondered where to start. "What happened to you, Granger?"

"The Snatchers found us and took us to the Manor," she began, her tone rather distant. "They wanted to summon You-Know-Who, but we had the Sword of Gryffindor, and your aunt Bellatrix-

"Don't call her my aunt," he interrupted suddenly, his voice low and abrasive. "Go on."

"Um, well, Harry and Ron were taken away," Hermione continued, swallowing hard. "And Bellatrix started to question me about how we got the sword, and she tortured me." She felt the muscles in his arms strengthen around her. "I…I remember her using the Cruciatus Curse on me, but I can't remember much after that. It's all a little fuzzy."

Draco sucked in a deep breath. "Were my parents there?"

"Your parents," she echoed quietly. "Uh…yes, they were there. Your father looked…quite fragile actually, like he'd been tortured."

"And my mother?"

"Your mother," she murmured, clutching at a flimsy memory. And then hit her, and she gasped. "Oh my God, your mother."

"What? Did she hurt you?"

"No, no. Merlin, I remember now. She knows."

"She knows what?" he pushed, trying to keep his patience. "What the hell are you-

"She knows about us," she told him. "Sh-she used Legilimency on me, and she saw us. She saw us together. I could feel her searching for you in my head, and I know she found my memories of you."

Draco's eyes went wider. "What did she do?"

"She…," Hermione trailed off, pausing for a moment. "She wanted to know where you were and she…offered to help me."

"What?" he asked, completely baffled by the concept. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, positive. That's a good thing, isn't it? "

His brow creased with thought. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I think so."

They both went quiet, and Draco contemplated Hermione's significant and surprising account of his mother's actions at the Manor. In hindsight, he realised he had mentally prepared himself for the worst case scenario, practically expecting a damning version of the story, in which his parents had contributed to Granger's nightmare ordeal. He imagined he should feel relieved, perhaps grateful, but all that registered was bewilderment and uncertainty.

"You know," said Hermione, after the silence between them had lingered too long. "My mother used to say that the parents who really love their children are the most dangerous people in the world because they will kill, die, and everything in between for them. Your mother loves you, Draco. I think she was just willing to do anything to find you."

"Hm," he frowned, uncertain what he could say. "Did you tell her where I was?"

"No, I couldn't. I was too injured, I think. And then something happened, and I remember the Chandelier…but that's all I remember. How did we manage to escape?"

"I don't know."

"And you're certain everyone got out okay?"

"Yes, everyone's fine," he nodded. "Just a few bumps and scrapes. As I said, you were the worst."

"I remember how I got this now," she murmured, and Draco glanced down to see her fiddling with the bandage wrapped around her arm.

"Don't look at that, Granger."

Of course, she didn't listen to him, and he cringed as she slowly peeled away the sticky, stained dressing and stared at the horrid scar scrawled into her skin. She took in a shuddering breath. "Ugly, isn't it?"

Draco wasn't sure if she meant the mark itself or the word, 'Mudblood,' but he moved his hand and placed it over the wound, careful not to touch it lest it still be tender and sore.

"It doesn't mean anything," he whispered against her ear.

She didn't respond but reached with her free hand to tug at his other arm, pulling it forward so his Dark Mark was bared. She mimicked his actions, veiling it with her palm and tickling her fingers against his wrist with soothing strokes.

"And yours doesn't mean anything either."

They stayed still for a while, almost engraved in time, with only the rhythmic and synchronised rises and falls of their chests to indicate any life. Hermione was the first to break it, sighing and then twisting her neck so she could kiss the corner of his mouth.

"I should probably let the others know I'm alright," she said softly. "Will you help me-

"Granger, wait," he cut in, his face scrunching up as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say. "It's been months. Just…just allow some undisturbed hours before the sodding Calvary insist on suffocating you."

She made a faint sound of amusement. "Okay," she agreed. "But you do know you can have as many hours as you want, Draco? Days, months…as long as you want."

He rested his lips against her neck again, and smothered the itch in his throat to say 'years.' Partially because the response would be too sickly on his tongue, and partly because he wasn't sure they had years.

He thought about his words to Tonks earlier and realised he didn't pity her for having hope.

He envied her for it.

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Isolation Chapter 31: Pulse

 Chapter 32: Pulse

Draco managed to keep his balance when they landed, and as the dizzying effects of the Portkey wore off, he found himself in an overgrown garden, facing the back of unfamiliar and secluded house that was blanketed with ivy. It looked far too serene, too innocuous, and he began to question whether Tonks had muddled up her Portkeys, but then he heard the shouting.

Several raised voices were picked up by the wind, the words and intent stifled by the thick walls of the house, but the panic in those voices was loud and clear.

Tonks shot ahead like a bullet and it jerked him into action, his toes practically nipping at her ankles, and Blaise was close behind him as they raced to the house. They barged inside, following the cries for help and the heavy thumps of hasty footsteps to a kitchen-come-dining-room, and Draco froze.

The room was in chaos.

His ears instantly began to ache from all the yelling, until all the voices seemed to blur into a piercing roar of noise. There was too much going on in such a small space, and his eyes darted from one screaming person to the next, trying to make sense of it. He recognised Ollivander first, the elderly wizard trembling and feebly dabbing his fingers against a nasty wound on his forehead. That Thomas lad from Gryffindor…was it Dean?…was trying to help Ollivander, calling out for assistance while tying to nurse his own wounds; an oozing gash on his shoulder, and a broken arm, judging by the abnormal bend of his elbow. Next to them was a Goblin with blood trickling down from his hairline but little else to indicate any distress, and Draco recognised him to be Griphook from Gringotts.

He noticed Lovegood next, looking more dazed than usual with a split lip and a spray of purple-black bruises across her face, chest and arms. Blaise stormed past him to get to her, grasping her elbows and examining her closely, gently tilting her chin and mumbling questions about the severity of her injuries. Lovegood simply smiled a dreamy smile and touched his face.

His attention shifted to Potter, a crumpled and stuttering heap on the floor, half sobbing and half in shock as he hunched over a bleeding House-elf who was dead in the eyes. He was pleading for help, and that Lupin bloke was crouching at his side, trying to calm him and pry the lifeless House-elf from his hands. Potter stubbornly resisted, clutching the small creature and shaking his head like madman as he pleaded with Lupin to try and revive it.

And then his eyes landed on a mess of matted curls drenched with blood, once brown but now a sickly, burgundy colour, and he forgot to breathe.

Completely paralysed.

Hoping he was mistaken, he sought her face and his legs went a little weak. All her familiar features were there, but they were so, so different. Her skin was eerily pale, ashen like an antique china doll, and her lips were blue except for the thin trail of blood sliding down to her jaw. And her arm…dear fuck, her arm. It looked like it had been mauled; deep slices that were practically spitting blood, and her skin was red-raw where it was split into…letters? Mudblood?

There was bile at the back of his throat and he choked.

He realised then that Weasley was cradling her, repeatedly mumbling something that sounded like, "my fault," with tears on his cheeks. At any other time, he would have been infuriated just thinking about Weasley touching her, but he didn't react…barely acknowledged him, too overwhelmed and stunned. He focussed solely on her, searching for any indication of life. A breath. A groan. A flutter of eyelashes. Just any sign of anything.

She really did look dead.

He had to look away. He lost his balance and stumbled back a few paces until he collided with a table, and he grasped it to steady himself, his breaths leaving him in sharp bursts. He closed his eyes when they started to burn and his heartbeat was beating painfully in his sockets and eardrums.

She couldn't be.

Absolutely not.

He opened his eyes and his vision was misty, but that didn't matter because Tonks was kneeling next to Ron and blocking his view of Granger. If he'd had the voice, he would've screamed at her to move, but instead he tilted his chin and watched as she searched for a pulse, drowning out the racket in the room and focussing on his cousin's voice.

"…need to calm down, Ron," she mumbled steadily, but he could hear the alarm in her voice. "Just hold her still…I need to-

"I'm sorry," blurted Weasley. "I didn't mean to-

"Calm down."

"No, but it was my fault, and I-

"I have it!" Tonks gasped with relief. "I have it, I have a pulse! Give her to me, Ron. Let her go."

Draco let go of a strangled sigh and felt some strength return to his limbs. He watched as Tonks practically slapped away Weasley's hands and hauled Hermione into her arms, manoeuvring with a little difficulty as she moved towards the table Draco was leaning against. She laid Hermione down with care and studied her intently, assessing the damage and mumbling behind her clenched teeth.

Draco just kept staring at Hemione, eyes narrowed to stop them stinging and his muscles rigid to hide his trembling. He moved slowly around the table on unsteady feet, pausing at Hermione's side and blocking out his cousin's muttered Healing Spells and everything else in the room.

"Wake up," he whispered, barely loud enough to hear himself.

Being this close to her again made his fingertips itch, but his mind just couldn't make sense of seeing her in this state, and it made him hesitate. His Granger had always been so full of energy, be it a spark in her eyes, a blush warming her cheeks, or a subtle smile on her lips, even in sleep. This Granger looked like she'd been carved from dead stone and then splashed with red paint for morbid effect.

"Shit," murmured Tonks, breaking his trance. "Remus! Where's the Dittany? And I need the Wound-cleaning Potion! And-

"Top cupboard!"

Draco zoned out again as Tonks tore open a cabinet and returned with a handful of small vials. In the corner of his eye, he was convinced one of Granger's fingers twitch, and he thought it might be okay to touch her now. He stretched out his hand to reach for hers, but the moment his thumb grazed the soft but cold skin of her palm, someone was clamping down on his shoulder and hauling him backwards. He was pulled back several paces away from Granger, and he whipped around to confront Weasley, flushed and seething with hot rage.

"You stay away from her!" he spat. "You have NO right-

"Get the fuck out of my way, Weasley!" yelled Draco. "You don't have a clue-

"Yes, I do! She told me about you!"

Draco cocked an eyebrow with surprise. "Then you should know it's a good idea to stand aside-

"YOU WILL NOT GO NEAR HER!"

"WEASLEY, I WILL FUCKING DRAG YOU IF I HAVE TO-

"SHUT UP!" Tonks shouted over them, and it all went very quiet. "Ron, you need to tell me what happened to her so I can help her!"

Weasley faltered. "I don't…I'm not-

"Come on, Ron!" she pushed. "The Cruciatus Curse? Poison? Something else-

"The Cruciatus Curse."

Draco's eyes went wide and back to Granger, and he ached to touch her again. He'd never been subjected to the curse himself, but he knew the possible destructive effects of it well; internal bleeding, seizures, paralysis, organ damage, memory loss or insanity…He winced.

"For how long?" Tonks asked Weasley. "How many times?"

"I don't know," Ron groaned. "We weren't…we weren't there when it was happening-

"Remus!" she called. "Remus, I need your help here! I need more potions!"

Draco tracked his old professor as he offered an apology to Potter, who was still rocking back and forth with the dead House-elf in his lap.

"There's more in the back bedroom," said Remus as he came to his wife's aid, quickly but carefully gathering Hermione in his arms. "We'll take her upstairs."

Draco made to follow as Lupin left the room, but Tonks blocked his path and planted a firm hard against his chest. "Move out of my way," he growled. "I need to be with her-

"No," she shook her head. "You are staying here-

"I want to help her! Just-

"If you want to help, you stay out of the way!" she ordered, also regarding Weasley. "That goes for you too, Ron. Both of you will stay down here!"

An enraged snarl rumbled at the back of his throat as his cousin disappeared out the room, and he was once again without Granger. The frustration, the fury, the resentment, and the angst all boiled and bubbled within his chest, and at the core of it was this devastating craving to just know Granger was alright. But no. She'd been ripped away from him again, and he felt the walls of his control crack, and Weasley might as well have been wearing a target.

"You said it was your fault," he hissed in a forebodingly low tone, locking his dark eyes on Weasley. "What the hell did you mean by that?"

"Piss off, Malfoy."

Draco's fist lunged for Ron's face of its own accord, clipping his jaw and sending him staggering backwards a few strides. "You mind your fucking mouth, Weasel!"

"Don't you dare touch me, you slimy twat!" Ron barked.

"I asked you a question!"

"YOUR FAMILY DID THAT TO HER!" he screamed. "YOUR psycho aunt! YOUR parents in YOUR home!"

Draco hesitated, open-mouthed and so incredibly lost about how to respond to that. He hated Bellatrix at that moment, could feel himself physically vibrating with all the loathing he felt for his aunt. And his parents…he didn't know…he couldn't even contemplate the idea of his mother inflicting torture on another human, Muggle-born or not. His father…fuck, he didn't know. His brain was throbbing. And Granger…Hermione…he'd never be able to get that image of her out his head; so broken and yet somehow still beautiful.

He shouldn't have let his mind wander. Weasley punched him hard in the face, snapping his head to the side with an audible clap. He grunted and spat, staring at the tinge of red to his saliva as his cheek started to pound. His temper soared and he felt his magic course through his veins, that prickling sort of static heat that was untamed and hazardous. It felt volatile, and so did he.

"Bad move, wanker," he growled, looking up from the floor to find the tip of Weasley's wand aimed at him. He reached into his pocket to withdraw his own wand, but then Lovegood calmly stepped between them, facing Weasley, and he scowled at the back of the girl's head.

"Luna," Ron frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Enough damage has been caused by hostile magic today," she said softly. "Don't you think?"

"This has nothing to do with you, Luna."

"Lovegood," sneered Draco. "Get the fuck out of the-

"Hey," said Blaise, cautiously edging closer to his friend's side. "Come on, mate. You need to compose yourself. You're not thinking straight-

"Don't even bother, Zabini-

"It's not the time or the place. You are out of control-

"SHUT UP, BLAISE!"

"Do you think Tonks is going to let you see Granger if you put a hole in Weasley's chest?" he questioned quietly, so only they would hear. "Look, you can beat the living shit out of him any other day, but you know Tonks will send you straight back to Andromeda's if you do it now, and you will have gained nothing."

Draco despised the reason in his friend's words, but the grip on his wand slackened anyway. There were too many eyes on him; Thomas, Ollivander, and even Potter had stopped what they were doing, and he felt far too exposed. He glared at Weasley over Lovegood's shoulder as she continued to speak to him in soothing tones, his thoughts shifting back to Hermione, and all his fury was consumed by concern for his witch.

"You know, Harry looks like he needs your support right now," he heard Lovegood mumble, and Weasley glanced at his inconsolable friend. "You should go and help him, Ron."

With a resigned sigh, he reluctantly lowered his wand and met Draco's aggressive stare. "Keep him out of my face-

"Be grateful it's still intact, Weasel," Draco snarled as Ron headed over to Potter, and it was only then that he tucked his wand back into his pocket.

"Right," breathed Lovegood, turning to face he and Blaise. "I think I'll make some tea."

.

________________________________________

.

Draco rubbed his sore and swollen eyes and wondered if he'd cried today, but been completely oblivious to it.

He guessed he'd been sat in this spot for about six hours, leaning against the wall beside the only door that hadn't responded to an Alohomora and had been charmed with a Silencing Spell. The room Granger was in.

In the hour or so before that, everything had carried on around him in a distant haze. Weasley and Lovegood had managed to convince Potter to relinquish his hold on the House-elf — a House-elf Draco had remembered had worked for his family some years ago — and they'd wrapped the dead creature up in a white sheet, and laid him out on the sofa in the sitting room. After Weasley had fixed his broken arm, Thomas had helped Ollivander to a bedroom and healed his injuries, insisting it was wise for him stay in the same room to keep an eye on the frail Wandmaker. The Goblin, Griphook, had also been given a room, and he retreated upstairs without so much as a thankful dip of his head or any inclination that he cared about the state of the injured.

And then Lovegood had done what she'd said she would. She'd made tea, and she'd spiked it with Sleeping Draught. Had he not been so distracted by his anxiety for Hermione's condition, and the fact that Lovegood annoyed him to the core, he might have mentally commended the witch for the smart move. She and Blaise had used magic to levitate Potter and Weasley to bed, and Draco had instantly set about finding the room Granger would be in.

And he had not moved from his position since.

It was evening now, and the house was getting dark as the final rays of sun simmered and gave way to night. He felt physically drained and his body had gone numb with the need for rest, but his brain was alert, stubbornly refusing to yield to sleep until he knew that Granger was awake and well, and he would demand to see it for himself.

A troubled and lonely mind drifts between self-destructive thoughts when there is nothing but hollow hours and silence for company.

He'd thought constantly about the side-effects of the Cruciatus Curse, reciting them again to himself.

Internal bleeding, seizures, paralysis, organ damage, memory loss or insanity.

Memory loss or insanity.

It was those last two that disturbed him the most. The idea of Granger being unable to remember what had happened between them in her room did damaging things to his psyche, and he had revisited those memories and tried to recall every detail…just in case…in case he needed to remind her.Fuck, that would ruin him.

And insanity…the thought of Granger without that brilliant mind of hers…he couldn't even begin to comprehend how he would deal with that.

And then he'd thought of his family and the part they'd played in his lover's torture. He'd never really held any sort of regard for Bellatrix as she'd been locked up in Azkaban for the majority of his life, and her psychotic mindset had made it impossible for him to ever perceive her as a real member of his family, but his parents…Bloody hell, his parents. The fact that they were still working for Voldemort after he had put a price on his head was disconcerting, but what if they'd been forced? What if Weasley was mistaken? Or what if they had indeed contributed to Hermione's brutal ordeal?

He groaned into his palms as a pulsating headache made his eyes water.

He'd been without her for weeks, and now there was only a wall separating them, but she might be so much further than that if her mind had been effected by the curse. Why was fate and circumstance so hell-bent on sabotaging them?

He'd have risked insanity and isolation to be back in her room again; just the pair of them locked away without Tonks, Weasley and every-fucker-else determined to throw daggers at their relationship.

"I thought you might be here," Lovegood's voice made him start. "I brought you some tea."

He tilted his chin to regard her coldly. "Do I look thick? I'm not having anything you give me."

"There's no Sleeping Draught in it. Just a tiny hint of Lavender to ease your stress."

"I don't want your sodding tea, Lovegood," he snapped. "Just bugger off."

She didn't move, but then he hadn't really expected her to. "You're an odd person, Draco."

"Excuse me?" he scoffed. "I'm odd?"

"You're so determined to distance yourself from those who are trying to help you-

"I never asked for anybody's help. I definitely haven't asked for yours-

"Friends shouldn't have to ask-

"And I am certainly not your friend," he bit out, his tone rough and gritty with distaste. "Do you have any concept of how irritating you are? And you're completely gone in the head. You just sit there talk absolute bollocks and it's infuriating. How Blaise puts up with you, I'll never know."

"He loves me," she shrugged casually. "You know, like you love Hermione, and she loves-

"What?" he hissed quietly. "Get the hell out of my face-

"Oh, I see," she murmured, innocently cocking her head to the side. "You're still pretending you don't love her?"

"How bloody dare you presume you know anything about my relationship with her!"

"Your actions speak for themselves," she said with a slight grin. "See, I told you you're odd. There really is no logical explanation for why you should continue to deny it-

"And you're the queen of logic, are you?" he remarked, rolling his eyes. "You don't know the first thing about how I feel towards Granger, so don't-

"Or maybe I do understand, and it makes you uncomfortable," she interrupted. "You're right though, it's your business and not mine, but…perhaps you should make it Hermione's business-

"That's enough!" he barked furiously. "I won't tell you again, Lovegood; leave me the fuck alone."

With a small bob of her head, she bent down and placed the mug by his feet before she tuned to leave. "I hope you like the tea," she said over her shoulder.

Draco's heavy and incensed glare pierced Lovegood's back as she retreated down the corridor and disappeared down the stairs. He grabbed the mug she'd left behind and hurled it at the adjacent wall, watching the jagged shards of porcelain explode with a loud smash as the tea spattered across the floorboards. He'd deny it until his deathbed, but Lovegood had touched a nerve.

He'd be lying if he said the exasperating topic of love hadn't slipped into his mind in the last few hours, despite his self-conserving attempts to ignore the subject.

He knew what Lovegood was thinking; that he rejected the mere mention of love because he considered it a weakness, but that was a ridiculous notion that always seemed to arise in repetitive romance stories featuring a surly antihero with a maturity complex.

He didn't think love was weakness. His parents were very much in love, openly so, and he'd never thought them to be weak for it. The fact of the matter was, loving Granger would be completely inconvenient. Loving her would mean there was no going back. To admit that he had fallen in love with her would be to slice the final fragile thread that connected him to everything he had lived by before; his prejudices, his wealth, his parents…all of it.

But then, maybe he already had. Maybe convenience had failed to be a factor for some time now.

.

________________________________________

.

Blaise eyed the satisfied smile on his girlfriend's pretty lips as she strolled back into the kitchen. "That took you a while," he commented, leaving his seat to approach her. "Dare I ask why?"

"I just spoke to him about a few things," replied Luna flippantly. "You know, I think Tonks may have some nargles in her garden. I'm sure I put my charm on the countertop."

"It's in my pocket," he said. "What did you say to him?"

"What was necessary."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Possibly tomorrow."

Blaise trailed his fingers down her spine and shook his head. "You're wasting your time there, Luna. He's too stubborn. Even by a Slytherin's standards."

"As I recall, you were also very stubborn," she reminded him. "But yes, he's worse than you were. Maybe even worse than Theo."

"Then why bother trying?"

She exhaled a brief and delicate laugh. "Always the pessimist."

"I refute that. I would consider myself a realist," he said, coiling a loose lock of her hair around his finger. "You, on the other hand, are very much an optimist."

"Perhaps someone needs to be an optimist at the moment," she mumbled, turning her head to place a chaste kiss against his palm. "You know, all great victories come from small ones. Maybe today won't be so dark if Draco sees the light."

.

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.

The early hours of tomorrow morning came slowly; one o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock, they dragged by at such a taunting pace. He raked his fingernails through his hair for the fiftieth time and rolled his shoulders to click away some of the tension in his muscles and bones. For over twelve hours, he had done nothing but wait with the same clawing thoughts bouncing around in his skull. He was tired and edgy, his backside numb and his limbs like cardboard after countless bouts of pins and needles, but he'd wait another twelve hours if he had to.

He heard the handle of the door creak before he saw it twist, and he climbed to his feet too quickly, all the blood rushing to his head and making him sway. Lupin stepped out the room first, closely followed by Tonks, and they turned their heads to acknowledge Draco with weary eyes and sweat on their upper-lips, evidently fatigued after twelve hours of Merlin knew how many Healing Spells. His breath hitched in his throat when Tonks shut the door behind her and massaged the bridge of her nose, but he kept his expression tight and stoic, fighting the urge to shove them aside and force his way into the room.

"You can go ahead to bed, Remus," she said. "I'm just going to have a quick word with him."

Lupin faltered for a moment, observing Draco with deliberate suspicion before he did as his wife had requested and left them alone. Tonks had placed herself between Draco and the door, and he looked past her at the handle, his tolerance fleeting quickly as his cousin gave no indication that she intended to move.

"Tenacious little bugger, aren't you?" she quipped. "I thought I told you very clearly to stay downstairs-

"Merlin's grave," he growled to himself. "Let me inside that fucking room or tell me-

"I wanted to apologise to you," she interrupted him, and it threw him off guard. "I think I…I underestimated your relationship with Hermione-

"It's not your place to judge mine and Granger's relationship at all."

"I'm just trying to let you know that I understand now," she continued. "And I will give you a break-

"I don't give a shit about your opinion of me!" he blurted. "You want to do me a favour? Then you tell me-

"She's alright," said Tonks finally. "Considering what happened, she is better than expected. Her wounds are healed, except for that…thing on her arm. Physically, she is going to be fine."

"And mentally?"

"We're not sure yet," she sighed. "She suffered a bad blow to her head, and with the Cruciatus Curse…she's very muddled up, drifting in and out consciousness and just mumbling incoherently. As far as w can tell, she's fine, but we won't really know until she wakes up properly."

Draco swallowed down the clot of nerves in his windpipe. "And her memory?

"Again, we won't know until she wakes up, but perhaps-

"Are you going to let me fucking room, or not?" he snapped impatiently. Why was he here listening to this clueless witch when she apparently had no clue how Hermione was doing? "Or do I have to-

"Alright," she stopped him. "You can go in, Draco."

He surged past her and barged into the room, pausing once he had crossed the threshold to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. There was a lone candle in the corner, coaxing flickering shadows to dance across the walls, but he instantly focussed on the silhouette of a figure on the bed. Hermione. He slammed the door shut behind him, adamant that there would be no more interruptions, and then he slowly made his way towards the silhouette, transfixed on the comforting rises and falls of her chest.

All the haste left him, and now that he was only a few feet away from her, he suddenly felt wary and tentative, like he might break her if he got too close. She made a sleepy little sound and he quicken his steps, his heart racing in his ribcage and his pulse banging against his eardrums with anxiety, anticipation, adrenaline…he didn't even know anymore.

He reached the bed and concentrated on the sound of her breathing before he eased himself down and sat at her side. All he could make out was her shadow and a brandy-coloured halo from where her hair caught the candlelight. It wasn't enough. He removed his wand from his pocket and waved it over the flame to give it some life, and finally, he could see her.

And she looked…normal.

She was so different to the haunting version of her he'd seen earlier; all bloodied and battered with frosty skin and a dead expression.

She looked like Granger now, clean and relaxed with some pink in her cheeks and a slight frown scrunching her brow. The only indication of her nightmare were some half-healed, yellow bruises by her temple and the neat bandage wrapped around her arm from her wrist to her elbow, and he glared and the red stain already beginning to seep through the dressing.

He ached to touch her, but it took him a minute or so to actually do so, and he softly grazed the backs of his fingers along her jaw and down to her chin. His thumb absently traced the outline of her lips, but he froze when she stirred and moaned in her sleep. She shifted a little, and then her eyes slowly peeled open with a few long blinks and a delicate fluttering of her eyelashes.

She gazed straight at him with those hazel eyes he had missed, and he stayed completely still, knowing this was the moment when he'd know if her memory had been dented. Her stare was glassy and vacant, and he prepared himself for the worse.

But then she smiled and reached up to cup his face.

"Hello, Draco."

Her voice was hoarse and fragile, but at least it was there. His lids fell shut and he leaned into her palm, exhaling loudly with relief as she tenderly stroked her finger across his cheekbone. She remembered him.

"You're not bleeding this time."

His eyes snapped open and stared down at her with a wide and uneasy look. "Why would I be bleeding?"

"You're always bleeding in my dreams," she murmured, and he grimaced at the eerie innocence to her tone.

"Granger, you're not-

"Dreaming," she finished for him. "You always say that."

"But-

"Will you stay with me?" she asked, her lids drooping and her hand falling back to her side as she struggled to remain conscious. "Will you stay until I need to wake up?"

As Tonks had warned him, she was evidently confused and disorientated, and the disappointment stabbed at his gut. It was not uncommon for those who suffered memory loss from the Cruciatus Curse to recall things subconsciously; sometimes in dreams, and sometimes in old rituals that were never quite erased from the brain. The positive reaction to him was promising, but it wasn't a definite assurance that her psyche had survived Bellatrix's torture, and that vehement fury that he felt towards his aunt started to infect him again.

"Draco?" she mumbled drowsily, severing his train of thought. "Will you stay?"

The anger dissipated, and he kicked off his shoes. "Yes, Granger."

Her lips twitched with another smile, and he didn't bother to undress as he slipped under the covers and pulled her to him, nestling his nose in her hair. She melted into him as she always had done, like it was instinct; her back against his chest and their legs tangled together.

A content hum left Hermione. "I love you."

And because she thought she was dreaming, and inconvenience is inevitable, he sighed and whispered those words back to her, unable to decide if it was a blessing or a curse that she probably wouldn't remember his reluctant confession come morning.

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Isolation Chapter 31: Blood

She didn't even remember shouting, "RUN!" to Harry and Ron.

She was racing away before her voice reached her ears, surging her body forward and snaking around trees with everything she had. The ground seemed to quake with the fast and thunderous footsteps of the Snatchers, and the sound of it rumbled all around her. Patches of mud and hidden bumps rocked her balance, but she tried to keep her focus amongst the adrenaline storm.

Harry was to her right — about twenty feet away — sprinting through the forest with two Snatchers on his tail. She couldn't see Ron, but she could hear him calling out to them, maybe another twenty feet or so from Harry, and she prayed he had the sense not to blurt any of their names. If they could just get some distance and reach each other to Apparate. If they could just get somewhere safe. If they could…

The Snatcher behind her was getting closer.

She could feel his shadow against her back; the chill of it on her neck. She hurled a spell over her shoulder, and the sparks of it singed her cheeks. She heard a thud and hoped she had successfully managed to hinder his chase, but she could already feel another one catching up to her.

The wind of a hex rushed past her ear, and she raised her arm to shield her eyes when it struck a tree and launched a spatter of splinters towards her. She fired another spell behind her and somehow managed to find some more speed, trying to veer towards Harry and Ron. If she could just get to them…

She heard a change in Ron's shouts and knew that they'd caught him.

That was it then. There was no way they'd leave him behind. They were in trouble.

She made a decision and kept running until she was close enough to Harry, and the Stinging Hex was the first spell that popped into her head. She hit her mark; Harry's face, and she watched him stumble as the inevitable pain began to register, and his features began to inflate and swell. She hoped it would be enough to alter his appearance. To make him unrecognisable.

Ron was struggling persistently against the two Snatchers who dragged him over to their group, but it was futile. There were Snatchers surrounding them from all sides now, slithering around the trees and circling them. Two of them took hold of her arms, but it was only when Fenir Greyback marched towards them that Hermione realised just how terrified she was, and the lingering look of hunger he directed towards her made her feel sick. He looked just as she remembered; feral and unkempt, and her eyes fell to the smudges of dried blood under his fingernails.

"Running is never a good idea," he said in his scratchy tone, his calculating glare shifting to Harry. "What the fuck happened to your face, ugly?"

"Al-allergies," he stuttered.

Greyback cocked a too-bushy eyebrow. "Names. Now."

"Dudley. Vernon Dudley."

"And you, ginger?"

"Stan Shunpike-

Fenir backhanded his cheek, and Ron grunted at the impact. "Your real name."

Ron swallowed hard. "Barny Weasley."

"A Weasley?" Fenir repeated. "You're a Blood Traitor then. The Order of the Phoenix ring any bells? There are a few Weasleys in there."

Ron shook his head, and Hermione averted her gaze when Fenir turned back to her with that same perverted stare. "And you, girly?"

"Penelope Clearwater," she said with more conviction than she felt.

"Pretty name for a pretty thing," he said, licking his jagged teeth and reaching out to stroke her cheek with a yellow and sharp fingernail. Hermione shuddered and tried hard not to retch. "I bet you taste sweet-

"Don't touch her!" Ron snapped. "Leave her the hell alone!"

"How touching," he snarled, glancing over to one of the Snatchers. "Check the list. We'll be taking you to the Ministry. If you are who you say you are, you'll have nothing to worry about-

"Hey, wait," one of the Snatchers interrupted, and Hermione's noticed the crumpled copy of The Daily Prophet in his hand. He gestured to a page. "Look at this, Greyback."

Hermione felt dread drop in her stomach when Fenir's eyes flicked from her to the newspaper, and then back to her. She exchanged a troubled look with Harry and tried to keep her composure, but she knew what was coming.

"This picture looks a lot like you, girly," he growled. "And it says here, known to be travelling with Harry Potter." He turned to Harry. "Well, well, well. This is interesting."

Harry tensed. "That's not-

"Shut it," he spat, moving over to Harry and squinting at the taut scar on his forehead. "It is you! We've got Potter!"

A roar of cheers erupted from the herd of Snatchers, and even the effects of the Stinging Hex couldn't hide Harry's alarm. "Come on!" one of the Snatchers shouted. "Let's take him to the Ministry-

"No!" Fenir called back. "They'll take the credit for it. We'll take them straight to the Dark Lord."

Hermione's heart was wedged in her throat.

Oh God no…

"We'll take them to Malfoy Manor."

.

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.

A sudden wave of nausea washed over Draco as he descended the stairs, and he clutched the banister to steady himself as the dizziness subsided. It passed and he shook his head, absently blaming the odd turn on a lack of a sleep.

The quiet hum of voices grasped his attention — Theo, Blaise and Andromeda by the sound of it — and he rolled his shoulders as he approached the kitchen.

He had successfully managed to steer clear of Theo and Blaise since his outburst over a week ago, knowing that Theo was likely to make some comments that would bait his anger, but he didn't give a shit anymore. He'd grown sick of the sight of his bedroom walls and the sound of silence, and he could really care less if Theo decided to be a snarky idiot about the situation, especially when he had broken down about Ted's death.

Shoving open the door, Theo, Blaise and Andromeda paused their conversation and regarded him with a mixture of caution of curiosity. Draco studied Blaise first, and instantly concluded from his dishevelled appearance and bloodshot eyes that Lovegood was still missing. He was unshaven, exhausted, and blatantly anxious, his brow creased with worry-lines and body rigid with strain, like he was ready snap.

Andromeda was preparing food, and while she still looked every bit the grieving widow, there was a small spark in her eyes, which he credited to the recent birth of her grandson. Yes, she definitely looked better, like her spirit was mending slowly, and that was…good. Perhaps he had come to accept that she was indeed his aunt, or maybe it was the resemblance she bore to his mother, but seeing her so depressed had made him feel uncomfortable.

And then there was Theo…

"Well, good afternoon, stranger," he smirked, and Draco rolled his eyes. "How nice of you to finally grace us with your presence-

"Theo," warned Andromeda. "Don't start-

"I was beginning to forget what your face looked like," Theo went on. "In hindsight, that was probably a blessing in disguise-

"Fuck off," Draco scoffed, dropping into a free chair. "I'm not on the mood for you today, Nott-

"I'm just trying to lighten the mood-

"Theo, that's enough," said Andromeda firmly. "You know, nobody gave you any hassle when you were upset-

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed. "That was completely different! Am I seriously the only one who thinks the irony of Draco's situation is hilarious? It's Granger-

"Theo," hissed Draco. "Carry on, and I fucking swear-

"Look, I'm not going to take the piss because she's a Muggle-born or anything, but you hated the girl because of her blood status, and she's Potter's best friend-

"Theo-

"And look at you now," he continued. "Defected with a Muggle-born girlfriend who just happens to be Gryffindor's little golden princess, and one of the Pheonix lot."

Draco growled behind his teeth. "Theo, I will-

"Fuck, I would pay so much money to see the look on your parents' faces if they found out," he grinned with genuine amusement. "I mean, wouldn't it have just been easier to shit directly onto your family crest or your father's fortune?"

"Alright, Theo! That's enough!" Andromeda shouted. "You have said your piece-

"I'm only having a laugh-

"Well, it's not funny."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," he snorted. "You all need to get a sense of humour. It's not like I'm having a dig. You know, I think all my shock was used up when Blaise started fancying Lovegood. You know, you two could start a club, or maybe write a book. How to get Laid and Piss off your Parents in One Easy Move, by Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini-

"Theo, shut the fuck up," Blaise hissed slowly, but there was an eerie calmness to his posture as he leaned back in his seat and tapped his finger against his mug of tepid coffee. "If you so much as breathe in an irritating way, I will deck the shit out of you, alright?"

Theo faltered but clicked his tongue haughtily. "Fucking cheerful bunch, aren't you?"

Blaise sprung up from his chair and looked just about ready to throttle Theo. "You never bloody learn to shut your gob-

"Blaise, calm down!" Andromeda yelled, rushing over to interject. "Theo, you can go and help Miles do the laundry."

"What? I did it yesterday-

"I don't care. You're riling everyone up, and I won't have it-

"Why should I have to walk around on eggshells just because these two are whining about their missing girlfriends?"

"Just go!" she demanded. "Now!"

"Fuck's sake," he grumbled, shaking his head as he left the room.

He slammed the door behind him, and Blaise eased back into his chair with a long and weary breath. Draco considered him carefully, so familiar with all the tell-tale signs of stress and apprehension.

"I take Lovegood's still missing then?" he asked, unsure what he expected to gain from the question.

Blaise lifted his guarded eyes to him and hesitated before he nodded his head once. "Almost two weeks."

"They'll turn up soon," Andromeda offered reassuringly, but it was such a flimsy promise.

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The Manor reeked of death and Dark Magic, and Hermione tried not to inhale the stench.

Instead, she analysed her surroundings carefully, racking her brain for any method of escape, but she knew it was impossible. They had no wands, they were outnumbered, and the Manor would inevitably have anti-Apparition Wards. They needed a miracle. A fast one.

Fenir's horrid breath was in Hermione's hair, and she tried to jerk her head away. He and his henchmen dragged her, Harry and Ron to a large room, and when Hermione realised who was waiting for them, she felt her insides scrunch up with fright.

There was something about Bellatix that would forever haunt Hermione.

Perhaps it was the unhinged and sadistic glint in her eyes, or the disturbing twitch to her vile grin, but the witch was just…inhuman to Hermione, like her insanity had picked away at her brain until all of the familiar emotion and instinct had been eroded. She was a creature; an evil and psychotic tool that was designed for nothing except torture and murder. And she relished it, like some sick hobby to pass the day. Completely deranged, and deadly because of it.

There was movement behind Bellatrix, and Hermione barely stifled a gasp.

They seemed so different to the last time she'd seen them; Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. All of that loud and aristocratic arrogance had diminished, as had that attention-demanding confidence of a married couple in power, and Hermione was transfixed on them. Narcissa looked like she hadn't eaten in weeks, frail and distraught, while Lucius bore all the signs of a man who had been relentlessly tortured for months, until his pride had abandoned him and his spirit had been subdued.

Hermione accidentally met Narcissa's eyes and saw nothing but sorrow, and she remembered then that she hadn't seen Draco in almost a year, no doubt assumed he was dead, and Hermione momentarily forgot the cruel woman she'd always thought Narcissa to be, and saw a vulnerable mother who had lost her son. She was weary, vulnerable, and seemed almost…reluctant to participate as Bellatrix and Peter Pettigrew eagerly rushed to meet them.

"We caught Potter!" bellowed Fenir. "Summon the Dark Lord-

"Just a moment," said Bellatrix. "How are you so sure? The boy's face is-

"The girl's a Mudblood," he replied, shoving Hermione towards Bellatrix. "Her picture was in The Prophet and it says she's travelling with Potter-

"A Mudblood?" she echoed with interest, snapping her wicked eyes to Hermione. She look like she might lick her lips with anticipation. "You do look very familiar. Cissy! You've met this thing a few times, haven't you? What's her name? Didn't you say you saw her Madam Malkins' not long ago?"

Narcissa barely lifted her head. "I can't recall-

"Granger! The Mudblood's name is Granger. Draco mentioned her years ago," said Lucius, and Hermione didn't miss the twinge of pain that stole Narcissa's features at the sound of her son's name. She felt I too. "Yes, she was always with Potter! It is him!"

"I told you!" Fenir boasted. "And you can see the scar-

"Let me see it!" she demanded, striding over to Harry and grabbing his face. "It is him! I will-

"I'll summon him!" Lucius interrupted, reaching for his sleeve. "Let me be the one-

"Now is not the time for your desperate need for his approval, Lucius!"

"Don't talk to him like that!" Narcissa barked at her sister, and Hermione was too distracted to notice the Snatcher tugging at her bag.

"Oh, don't be so sensitive, Cissy! It's not my fault you decided to marry such a pathetic…

Bellatrix trailed off, her eyes narrowing with outrage.

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Draco flinched and looked down at his forearm.

His Mark was itching, almost painfully so, and he grudgingly peeled back his sleeve to scowl at the ugly smudge on his snowy-white skin. He hadn't really examined it in a while, had practically refused to acknowledge it since that night in Astronomy Tower and more so when he and Granger had started sharing a bed. It looked just as it always had, but the irritating prickle began to worsen, and he smothered a groan behind his teeth.

"Draco?" Andromeda mumbled, eyeing his Mark cautiously. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," he mumbled. "It just randomly started…burning."

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It all happened too quickly.

One of Fenir's men had seized Hermione's bag and extracted Gryffindor's Sword, and then Bellatrix had erupted with action, screaming questions about the sword and firing hexes at the Snatchers who were foolish enough to respond with cocky retorts. Hermione held her breath until the hot sparks jetting out of Bellatrix's wand stopped, eyeing the still bodies of the stunned men, who were scattered across the floor like dirty confetti.

"Pettigrew!" Bellatrix growled, gesturing to the injured Snatchers. "Get rid of them. Take them to the courtyard, and I'll deal with them later-

"Bu-but, Bellatrix," stammered Lucius. "The Dark Lord-

"If you summon the Dark Lord now, he'll have our heads, you senseless idiot!" She turned to Fenir. "Put these in the dungeons with the others, except for…except for the Mudblood," Bellatrix said, coming close enough to Hermione that she could feel the wet of her breath. "We're going to have a little chat-

"No, wait!" Ron yelled frantically. "Not her! Me, you can take me!"

"You'll be next, Blood Traitor-

"Not her-

Fenir released Hermione and rammed his fist into Ron's face, silencing his protests before grabbing him and Harry, and dragging them out of the room. Hermione watched them go, her heart sinking to her stomach when they disappeared from her sight and their voices drifted out of earshot.

"Aw," cooed Bellatrix, tutting her tongue. "So sad."

Hermione could feel herself shaking, and her breathing began to accelerate, but she willed her body not to betray her fear. She'd be damned if she gave Bellatrix the satisfaction of seeing her crack. The dark witch was staring at her with an ominous expression of excitement, tapping her wand mockingly against her hip, and Hermione needed to look away, her eyes wandering over to Narcissa again, but she was frowning at the floor.

"Where did you get that sword, Mudblood?" Bellatrix snarled, right next to ear.

"We-we found it. It's just a fake. A copy-

"Lies," she hissed, baring her chipped and grey teeth. "Not that it makes a difference. I was going to torture you anyway. Let's get started, shall we?"

Hermione locked her limbs and braced herself for the inevitable, tilting her chin defiantly for dignity's sake and telling herself she wouldn't scream.

The first blast of the Cruciatus Curse made her fall to her knees. It felt like her bones, blood, veins, and everything beneath her skin was fizzling with fire, or being stabbed at with blunt and rusty knives. Her whole body tensed and spasmed at unnatural angles, and she clamped down hard on her tongue to stop the cry that was dying to be released, whining at the back of her mouth.

Oh Merlin, it hurt…like nothing she had ever experienced.

And then it stopped.

"How did you break into my vault?" Bellatrix demanded, standing over her.

"We-we didn't-

"Crucio!"

The second round was so much worse; somehow more concentrated and deeper, and Hermione dropped completely to the floor, writhing as the brutal tremors took control of her. She thought that the scream that ricocheted around the room didn't sound like her at all, but she felt her lungs strain, and she understood how this torture drove people mad.

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Draco pulled his sleeve back down to cover his Mark.

It was still itching a little, but it was bearable, and he didn't like the way Andromeda and Blaise had studied it with such awkwardness. They were silent now; Blaise gliding his finger across the rim of his mug, and his aunt absentmindedly sorting through the kitchen supplies, so when the sudden crack of Apparition sounded outside, the three of them flinched with surprise.

Tonks came barrelling into the room through the back door, clutching a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms and rushing over to her mother, completely oblivious to the two Slytherins sat at the table. Although he could only see the back of her, Draco could tell from the tension in her shoulders that she was flustered and haste-driven, and he shared a puzzled look with Blaise.

"Mum, I need you to look after Teddy for a bit," she said quickly. "I don't know how long it'll be for-

"What is it, Nymphadora?" asked Andromeda. "What's wrong?"

"We just received word from Aberforth," she explained, carefully handing over Teddy. "The Snatchers must've caught them, and he said that there are others too-

"Sweetheart, just slow down. Who are you talking-

"Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were-

"What?" breathed Draco, his voice barely a whisper of shock. He got to his feet as Tonks whipped around with a gasp. "What did you-

"You shouldn't have heard that-

"You said Granger-

"Look, just wait a minute-

"You said Granger," he repeated in a forebodingly low tone. "Is she…is she alright?"

He had literally needed to choke out that question, and he didn't even want to know the answer. He'd never felt anything close to this; emotion wedged in his throat, his heart drumming behind his eyes with a heavy beat, and the structure of his body taut, prepared for the breakdown. This was what he'd been dreading…his witch…Hermione…but it was all too real.

Tonks sighed. "As far as we know-

"What the fuck does that mean?" he spat, taking some steps forward and positioning himself in the way of the door so his cousin couldn't attempt to leave. "Is she alive, or is she not?"

"We don't know, but we think-

"You said there were others," Blaise spoke up. "Luna. Is Luna one of the others?"

"It's…it's likely, but we don't know-

"Then what the hell do you know?" Draco asked impatiently.

"We know where they are," said Tonks, fixing him with an unsettling look. "They're at your house. They're at Malfoy Manor."

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"We didn't take anything," Hermione whimpered, her voice failing. "It-it's just a fake."

She felt herself being magically levitated again, rising almost six feet in the air before Bellatrix slammed her body hard back down to the cold, stone floor. Her head landed with such an impact that it bounced, and the back of her head became very wet and warm. Just as the bitter scent of blood registered, Hermione realised Bellatrix was crouching next to her, gripping her arm and tearing away the material of her sleeve.

"Repulsive Mudblood," she sneered, her menacing face hovering above Hermione. "You should all be branded a birth."

Bellatrix muttered an unfamiliar incantation, producing a small globe of green light at the tip of her wand, and Hermione's eyes went wide with horror as she swiftly stabbed it into her arm. She slashed, sliced and hacked away at her skin, and Hermione was screaming again, thrashing around and trying to get free as Bellatrix carved the letters for what felt like hours.

When Bellatrix had finished disfiguring her arm, she fired another Cruciatus Cruse directly to Hermione's chest, and her cries of pain became scratchy, weakening to cracked and pathetic noises that sounded like a dying bird. Her voice had given up on her, but the need to scream remained as Bellatrix continued to torture her within an inch of insanity.

Again, it stopped, but the residue of the Curse felt like poison crawling around her insides, and, Oh Godric, she felt so dizzy. She battled unconsciousness, knowing that blacking out with her head injury was unwise, but it was so tempting to surrender to the darkness that loomed at the edge of her vision…

"Bring me the Goblin, Pettigrew," instructed Bellatrix. "He'll tell us if the sword is indeed a fake."

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Teddy had started to sniffle in Andromeda's arms, but Draco barely noticed.

"My house?" he repeated quietly. "Why would-

"You-Know-Who's been using it as his base," Tonks told him bluntly. "We don't know what's happening, but we know that's where they are-

"Well, then you need to take me there! I know the Manor! I can-

"There are anti-Apparition Wards surrounding the grounds, and they would have been changed since you went missing-

"I still might be able to get in-

"Draco, look-

"NO! You fucking look!" he roared, striding up to his cousin with rage-fuelled steps. "I need to get in there! I need to-

"There is nothing that you could do," she interrupted calmly. "Letting you just waltz into the Death Eaters' headquarters would not only be dangerous for you, but for everyone else who's trapped there-

"THEN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" he demanded, slamming his balled fist into the wall. "You're just going to leave Granger there? They will kill her, you stupid fucking-

"Help has been sent," said Tonks. "If all goes to plan, they'll be out of there soon."

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Mudblood.

The word was engraved into her arm in an ugly smear, weeping perfect, little droplets of blood that dribbled out of her like tears. She concluded the wound at the back of her head was worse than she had initially thought. The blurriness of her vision was getting worse, and while she could hear the distant sounds of Bellatrix questioning Griphook, it sounded so far away. Her bloody hair was damp and sticky against her neck, matted in thick clumps, and her head felt numb and hollow, almost detached from the rest of her aching and battered body.

She guessed that a few of her ribs had been broken, perhaps her arm too, but it was difficult to focus on one area of the pain. There was a pretty ribbon of blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth, but she couldn't decide if she had simply torn her vocal chords with all her screaming, or if she'd suffered some internal damage.

It didn't matter…

Hermione had accepted that she was going to die here; terrified and alone on this ice-cold floor, and that her death would be dealt to her by a relative of the man she loved. It was almost poetic, but then the tragic love-stories always are.

Unconsciousness was creeping up on her, and she knew that she wouldn't wake up. There was nobody coming. Nobody could come. Logically, death was the inevitable fate for her, as it is for everyone, but hers would be early. Too early. Too prolonged and excruciating.

She thought of her parents, how they would probably never know that the daughter she'd made them forget had been killed, but then maybe that was for the best…

She thought of Harry and Ron, wondered what would become of them, and prayed that they might get free, or at least have an easier time than she'd had.

She thought of Draco, remembering their relationship that had barely been given a chance to begin. So brief. So heartbreaking. So…beautiful in all the wrong ways.

She hadn't meant to murmur his name aloud; hell, she didn't think her voice would allow her another syllable, but she had definitely heard it. She didn't even consider the possibility that her fractured voice had reached someone else's ears, until the swishing hem of a robe suddenly came into her line of sight. Using what little strength she had left, she managed to tilt her chin and lock eyes with Narcissa Malfoy.

The older witch's face was stretched with a mixture of surprise and confusion as she cast a wary glance around the room — presumably to check no one was watching — before she knelt down at Hermione's side.

"You said Draco's name," she whispered. "Why would you…do you know what happened to him?"

Hermione tried to respond, but all she could manage was strangled noise that had no meaning. Narcissa scanned the room again and then slowly removed her wand from her pocket, aiming it at Hermione with her features hardening with concentration.

"Legilimens."

There was no way she could resist the spell. Hermione clenched her eyes shut as a rush of heat shot up her spine and into her skull. Memories flashed against the backs of her lids in rapid succession, images of those first awful weeks when Draco had been forced to stay in her dorm. She saw herself stabbing his palm with her wand and then fastening their hands together. She saw Draco leaning over her after the bee-sting, and their fleeting first kiss. She saw herself returning to her room after her stay with Tonks, and him rushing towards her and grabbing her face. She saw them on the sofas, on the window-seat, on the ice, and all those kisses in between. And then she saw them in the Forbidden Forest; rain hammering against them as Draco just stood there, frozen in place, and she told him she loved him, and pressed the Portkey into his hand.

And then she was back in the Manor, staring at Narcissa's stunned expression, and almost wanting to express her gratitude to the witch for allowing her to relive those memories. She felt weaker now; her lids like rocks and her whole system soft and pulsating. She was disorientated, bordering on delusional as her body and mind started to shut down.

"…help you," Narcissa's hushed voice brought her back. "If you swear to tell me where Draco is, I will get you out of here. I promise. Please, just tell me what happened to my son."

Hermione tried to speak, but it was futile, barely managing a stuttering gargled sound that was lost to the unexpected racket of a commotion behind her.

She thought she might…yes, she could hear Harry and Ron, and then Lucius, Fenir, and Bellatrix, all of them shouting manically. Narcissa disappeared, and Hermione could do nothing but listen to the buzzing sounds of clashing spells, wondering if it would be too hopelessly optimistic of her to think that they might have a chance, that they might get out of here alive. If not her, then at least the boys…

There were rough fingers yanking at her shoulders and hair, hauling her up to stand, and then the freezing edge of a blade was licking at the taut vein in her throat.

"Drop the wands, or she dies!" Bellatrix ordered. "DO IT NOW!"

"Alright!" said Harry.

"Good! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches! Greyback, would you like to take care of Miss Mudblood? I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, after what you have done tonight."

Before Harry and Ron could surrender the wands they must've obtained in the fray, Hermione let her head fall back and noticed the subtle swing of the chandelier, its beautiful jewels chiming quietly with the movement. And another noise; metal scraping against metal. Creaking. Splitting…Everyone in the room had stilled to listen to it, and then there was a final telling snap, and the chandelier came crashing down.

Merlin knew how, but Hermione summoned enough energy to tear herself out of Bellatrix's hold, managing to stagger a few steps forward and into the safety of Ron's ready arms, and that was when she blacked out.

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"I've wasted too much time," said Tonks. "I need to get back…they will need help-

"Then take us with you!" Blaise pleaded desperately. "We can help."

"Absolutely not-

"That could be my girlfriend! I need to see if she's there!"

Draco was breathing heavily, trying to keep his temper subdued. "Just…just let us come with you."

"I will not-

"You heartless bitch!" he yelled. "I need to see Hermione! I fucking need to, do you not get that?"

"No!" Tonks argued firmly. "Look at how angry the pair of you are! Your presence would do more harm than good-

"Please, cousin," he forced the words out, hating that this situation had reduced him to begging. "Let me see her."

"Draco-

"Take them with you, Nymphadora," said Andromeda steadily, trying to calm her grandson's cries.

Tonks arched an eyebrow at her. "But, Mum-

"If it was Remus, you'd be acting in the same way as them," she went on. "Just take them with you. Give them something…give them hope."

Draco observed his conflicted cousin intently as she seemed to weigh up her options, eyes flicking between Andromeda, Blaise, and himself. Letting go of an exasperated sigh, she rubbed her eyes and shot Draco a warning glare.

"If you put one foot out of line," she said slowly. "I swear, I will bloody-

"I won't," he assured her. "I won't."

"Fine then," she agreed stiffly. "Mum, where are the Porkeys I sent you? We need to be quick."

"Here," Andromeda replied, rummaging in a drawer and tossing Tonks a decorative eggcup wrapped in cloth. "Be safe. All of you."

Draco offered his aunt a curt nod of gratitude as Tonks carefully unwrapped the small trinket, laying it flat in her palm, cushioned by the cloth until they were all ready. His gut was twisting with everything; apprehension, concern, anticipation…

He was going to see Granger again, assuming this 'plan' his cousin had mentioned had gone well…assuming she'd managed to get out….assuming she was still alive…

Too many uncertain factors with so much room for error…He felt sick again.

"Right, come on. We need to move," said Tonks, her tone urgent. "On the count of three. One, two, three."

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