Trussed

“Fuck.” Snake spat as he pulled out of Hermione’s mind turning to lean on the wall, sweat on his brow.

“What?” Draco demanded. “What did you see?” He noticed the tears running down Hermione’s face, and tried to ignore them.

“Someone knows she's here.” Snape said, running a hand through his thick locks. He'd fought the obliviated memories for all he was worth, but all he'd gleaned was some garbled inner monologue and a few voices. The important part, however, was that the box had been intercepted on its way to Draco.

“Who?” The boy in question asked.

“A masked Death Eater looked in the box and stupefied her.” Snape said, monotone slightly faltering. “Which means somebody knows you have her and is likely waiting for you to present her to the Dark Lord.”

“Kill me.” Hermione whispered, and Draco turned to her, silver eyes hard. “Susan sent a Patronus. The Order knows that France set us up. It doesn't matter where I am… if I've been gone for eight months they likely have mourned me already.”

“Except that this unknown Death Eater knows you're alive.” Snape said, still facing the wall.

“Malfoy can claim I was dead when he opened the box.”

“The Malfoys’ claims hold no weight around here anymore.” The ex Potions professor whipped around. “I may be allied with the Order but my responsibility is protecting my godson.”

Hermione clenched her jaw, weighing her options. “Then that rules out sending me back to the Order.”

“Outstanding observation.” Snape drawled.

“We wouldn't even know where to send you.” Draco strode to the side table and poured himself a drink, ashamed at how much his hands were shaking.

“What does this mean for me, then?” Hermione tried to remain stoic but she was afraid. She'd been ready to face a quick death right there, but if she was brought before Voldemort she knew it would be slow. She had a scar on her forearm that could vouch for that.

“It means Draco will take you to the Dark Lord.”

The blonde paled. “Uncle-”

“We canNOT blow our cover.” His Godfather snapped. “Miss Granger is a soldier. She is well aware going out on missions what the risks are. If the Order is still operating, they need us here and still properly infiltrating.”

“And if they're not?” Hermione’s voice was small. She didn't want to think that, but it was a possibility. Why else had they not been in contact with their most important contacts?

“Then we must survive.” Snape replied. “I will call the Dark Lord. Bring her to the main ballroom in ten minutes.”

“Uncle-” Draco clutched the glass in his hand.

“Think of your mother, stupid boy.” Snape stormed from the room and Hermione struggled not to burst into fresh tears.

Draco threw back the rest of his glass of scotch. “You're not going to beg for your life?” He raised an eyebrow, composing his carefully crafted expression. He had a role to play, and he needed to get into character quickly.

“Is there a point?” She clenched her jaw.

Fucking Gryffindors.