Black Knight, White Queen

A/N: Alright... originally I was going to be spacing these chapters out a bit more, but given a couple especially lovely reviews I thought I'd go ahead and post what I have written.



Gryffindor_Slytherin -- Where shall I start with answers? lol. Ok, first off, despite the very important role the Golden Trio plays in the books... the Order doesn't exactly keep them informed. Right now all Hermione has to go off of is what she thinks has happened. There could have been precautions, or not, or things might not be quite as they seem.



There won't be a week in between updates, though you might have to wait 2-3 days for the next chapter since I just don't have it finished yet. I will say though that in chapter four almost everything gets explained. It won't be a particularly long fic anyway -- I'm currently expecting five chapters to be all. It's just one of those story ideas that was stuck in the back of my head and I wanted to go with.



At the same time I'm working on this fic, I'm also working on my next new one which will be much longer. I'll be returning to the Hermione/Severus pairing for it and I'm really enjoying what I have written so far though I'm not quite ready to begin posting. So how soon things get finished depends on which story I'm in the mood to work on. ;) I actually began the first chapters of both of these while my muses were refusing to help with One Life for Another. lol.

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Black Knight, White Queen

Chapter 3: Queens and Kings

Queen: The most powerful piece in a chess game, the queen may move in any one direction for as many squares as she wishes.



Kings: The king is the most important piece, but also one of the weakest. He can move only one square per turn, though in any direction, and he may never place himself into check.

Mornings came, nights went. Hermione had no sense of time, and even less sense of what events were going on around her. Draco spoke nothing of it, only returned to their small bedroom every night with new wounds and little enough blood left in his veins. Every night Hermione tended to him, waiting for glimpses of who the spoiled rich boy really was.



One afternoon Draco returned early, but not alone. On either side of him were men she couldn't recognize, and Draco's face was devoid of all emotion. "Come," he said in a tone unlike what she was used to.



She wanted to question him, beg for an explanation. Anything that would give her an idea of what was happening. There were no answers to be found in his demeanor, though, and she could see he was in no position to explain. So she did all that she could think of to do -- she obeyed.



The long, dim hallways seemed no better now than they had the first time she'd seen them, and a since of foreboding seemed to be in the air. Maybe it was the presence of other Death Eaters, the grim expression on Draco's face, or perhaps it was that Hermione disliked the unknown. She'd always researched every trivial detail so that she would be prepared for anything, but there was no preparing herself for this unknown. Whatever it was, her worries were only making it worse.



For the second time she entered that elegant but dismal room where her fate had already been decided once. And again she found herself before Voldemort, and surrounded by his Death Eaters.



"I find victory to be a rather boring affair once managed," he said nonchalantly, and Hermione thought she could hear a slight hiss to his words. "There is nothing to do once the challenge is gone. Perhaps you can liven things up a bit? I grow weary of torturing my own. They are no fun anymore."



Hermione cringed at his words. His attention did not seem fully on her, but that did not make the very real threat seem any less intimidating. His hands twitched, and once again she felt the sharp pain of the Cruciatus. Bellatrix Lestrange might be well known for her skills at inflicting agony, but Hermione found that she had come nowhere close to surpassing her master.



She could hear her own screams echoing in her ears as the violent throbbing coursed through her body unrelentingly. It could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes that passed under the Cruciatus, she wasn't sure. Though the sharpest pains had passed, her body rebelled, sore and unwilling to heed it's mistress' order.



It seemed her screams were not entertainment enough for Voldemort, however, and he motioned for one among his ranks to step forward. It was a tall, burly man who Hermione did not recognize, but the leer on his face spoke volumes about his intentions. She wanted to run and hide, but her body refused to cooperate and her mind reminded her that she had nowhere to run. The man came closer, and she could see him undressing her with his eyes and thinking through what he wished to do to her body. She wanted to cry, but subconsciously held on tight to the last visages of strength she had.



She thought it as good as settled, until she heard Draco's voice in the distance. She couldn't see him, but the awareness of his continued presence gave her a strange sense of comfort. He was speaking angrily, risking his Dark Lord's anger by reminding him that she was his and no other's, and to be taken by no other. "What good are rewards if they are to be enjoyed by others rather than those who have earned them?" she heard him ask. She could not focus well enough to hear Voldemort's response, but she saw the burly looking man retreat and Draco come into view.



Next thing she saw was his fist descending on her, and then her vision went blurry and her awareness faded in and out.



-x-x-x-x-x-




Hermione woke to find herself back in Draco's room, her body carefully laid on his bed and blankets covering her. Moving experimentally, she found herself only slightly sore and knew the worst of it had been healed while she slept. Looking around, she saw Draco sitting in the chair, hair disheveled and staring at the chess set's white queen that he was holding carefully.



"Are you alright?" she asked.



He looked up at her, unbelieving. "Am I alright?" he croaked. "I did this to you and you are asking if I'm alright?"



She smiled in spite of a half busted lip. "It's not your fault he's an evil bastard. You did what you had to." She could almost see Draco withdrawing into himself in his mind, hating himself. She knew he hadn't wanted to hurt her, that he'd done it only to protect her from greater harm, but she could also see that he was blaming himself regardless. "After all these years... now who is being a foolish Gryffindor?" she added softly.



Draco grinned slightly in spite of himself, taken aback by her accusation of Gryffindor behavior on his part. She moved over and patted the bed beside her, inviting him to join her, and he did without hesitation. He eased onto the bed, as if afraid of injuring her, but still managed to get as close to her as possible.



"I said I wouldn't hurt you," he said softly, running his hand along her arm in a soothing manner.



"No," she corrected, "you said you wouldn't if you could help it."



He refused to say anything else, and didn't look her in the eyes, but neither did he let go of her. He seemed scared that more Death Eaters would show up to take her before Voldemort once again, more scared of it than she herself was.



-x-x-x-x-x-




They lay there in bed for a long time in silence, both eventually drifting off to sleep. He managed to sleep soundly, but Hermione found herself waking randomly throughout the night. Perhaps it was the after effects of her treatment before Voldemort, or maybe just that she was restless.



In a way, she enjoyed being away during the night. It was early morning when Draco was sleeping that Hermione saw his vulnerable side. He shifted in his sleep and pulled her closely, mumbling as he often did but unlike his normal words of pleading. It was spoken softly, but the words made her stiffen in shock. "Love you... Hermione... love..."



The shock sent her mind reeling, but somehow the words were not as repugnant as they would have been a couple weeks before. A lot had occurred between them while she'd been locked within this room, and she had seen that underneath it all he was trying to do the right thing for her.



It still left many unanswered questions. When had he started caring for her? Why had he returned to Voldemort's side? Why had he been so unwilling to explain his reasons to her? No answers were available to her, and further thought only produced more questions.



Finally though, as they approached what must have been daybreak, Hermione fell into a mostly peaceful sleep. If he loved her then maybe, just maybe, he would act in such away that some good might come of all of this.



-x-x-x-x-x-





Hermione woke briefly at the feel of movement beside her. Draco was trying to get up without waking her, but that was a difficult thing to do when their bodies were quite closely intertwined. Through the sleep induced haze she was slightly aware of having spoken.



"Sleep, Granger," said Draco. "I'll be back later."



She fell back asleep immediately, and when she woke for the second time that day it was to the sound of Draco re-entering their room. "Hey," she said softly, both in greeting and to let him know that he needn't be afraid of waking her.



"How are you feeling?" he asked, keeping his tone polite and allowing no emotion to break through.



"Better," Hermione said. "Do you have awhile before you have to go again?"



It was a question she had never asked, and the brief look he sent in her direction spoke volumes. Her question was the closest she had come to actually voicing concern, regardless of the gentleness with which she cared for him each time he returned bloody and sore. "I have awhile," he conceded, somewhat wary.



"I was hoping..." she began, then paused to choose her words more carefully. "Something has been on my mind, Draco, and I was hoping you'd allow us to discuss it. I know you haven't wanted to explain much, but I need to at least ask."



He said nothing, but when she saw his wand wave in the direction of the door, she figured it was the closest she would get to permission. The look on his face was no longer guarded. He was allowing her to see the vulnerability. To see that he wasn't sure what she'd ask, and neither was he sure if he wanted to know.



"Did you know you talk sometimes when you are sleeping?" she asked.



Draco took a deep breath and walked over to the bed, sitting down at the edge as if he thought he needed to stay somewhat distant. "I did sometimes when I was younger, but I haven't in years. My subconscious tends to be on guard, and not allow such things to happen," he said, then laughed. "Apparently my subconscious doesn't see you as threatening."



"It seems to have a mind of its own," she said, smiling slightly. "It seemed to think you needed to tell me something."



"What's that?" he asked, expression serious once more. "What did I say?"



Hermione stared at the bedding, not sure if she could tell him if she was looking him in the eyes. So much for Gryffindor courage. "You said 'Love you, Hermione.'"