Penance

Hermione’s eyes grew wide.

“What kid?” she asked. He knew…how could he know?

“Don’t fucking toy with me, mudblood! It’s the only reason you’re alive now! Crucio!”

Hermione screamed, but no sound came out, he had somehow silenced her, obviously not wanting to alert Draco. Her body ripped itself into pieces only to have those said pieces thrown in the pits of hell and carved into with dull edged glass.

When it ended she was left panting, gasping to fill her searing lungs with air. She wanted to call out, to tell Draco to run but she knew if she did he would come to her, he would try to rescue her. She refused to bring him into this; this was her deal, not his. The Death Eater was upon her, grabbing her shirt and pulling her body flush with his.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Where is the kid?”

She spat in his mask, just as she had with Lucius. Only this man did not calmly clean himself off, she paid for it. Dearly.

A metal capped fist met her face, one, twice, three times. He punched her in the stomach so hard she thought she would vomit. The man chuckled softly.

“You know, I never believed them when they said the muggle form of torture was better, but I believe them now. This is much more…liberating. Now, my dear, care to indulge me?”

“Not in particular.” Why couldn’t she stem her sarcastic mouth just this once? The Death Eater resorted back to magic and made her skin crawl with flames. Though her mind told her over and over that it wasn’t real, she’d done this spell dozens of times, she couldn’t tell her body, It was on fire, burning, charring before her eyes. Again, she screamed but no sound came out. The flame was finally lifted and she took deep breaths which hurt her bloody, swollen face and sore belly.

“I don’t think we’ve really found the key here. What about the boy? Should we bring him in here? Torture little Draco until you can produce what I seek?”

“No! No, leave him out of this. I’ll do what you want, but not here. Take me wherever, I’ll talk,” her mind whirled with possibilities, ways to mend the broken situation. How could he judge her so easily?

The Death Eater was about to say something when a knock on the door made Hermione’s heart and the Death eater’s voice stop.

“Hermione? Are you alright?”

The Death Eater’s hand was at her throat, his masked lips by her ear, breathing into it. “Not one word or he dies. You hear me?”

She nodded frantically.

“Answer him.”

“Fine,” she squeaked and the hold tightened momentarily on her throat before releasing so she could talk. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice steady this time.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” she almost sneered, trying to make her playact convincing. “Just myself. Who would I be talking to, Malfoy?”

He was quiet a moment and she hoped the use of his last name made him angry enough to leave.

“If that’s how you want it,” he said, almost reluctantly.

“It is,” she said without hesitation. She was saving his life, so why did she hate it so much?

She heard footsteps back into the bedroom and she would have sighed if the hand on her throat hadn’t constricted right then. She felt blood running down her cheek and wondered where it had come from.

Bang! She and the Death Eater jumped as the door to the bathroom smashed to the floor. Before Hermione could think, the Death Eater crumpled to the floor, bringing her with him. His body weight crushed her, making it impossible to breathe. Her vision grew fuzzy; she had gone too long without air from the hand around her throat to being pinned by a two-hundred-something pound man.

The weight lifted off her and she pulled air into her straining lungs. Draco was there, kneeling by her, a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She nodded then grabbed her aching head. She heard Draco curse and she felt her swollen face. She was surprised none of her teeth had been knocked out due to the heavy blows she had received.

“Can you get up?” he asked, his fingers flowing lightly over her abused skin, assessing the damage.

“I think so,” she croaked, her throat sore. He grabbed her elbow and hand from her left arm and helped pull her to her feet. Her head pounded but her legs were steady, even if her stomach wasn’t.

“What happened?” he asked, leading her to the toilet where he put down the lid and urged her down onto it.

“He, he was looking for you…” she lied.

“Me?” he asked. “Then why wouldn’t he just go into the bedroom and have his way with me?”

“H-he didn’t know you were here, I told him you were gone.”

Draco nodded. “Like him to be so thick. Fucking oaf. Never could think for himself.”

“Who was it?”

“Mulciber. We tried to get him a while back but he was never alone. Got him now,” he said, crouching in front of her and moving her hair out of her face to look at her battered skin.

“You killed him?” she asked breathlessly.

“You could say that,” he answered nonchalantly. How could he be nonchalant about taking someone’s life? His face suddenly turned hard.

“Where’s your wand?” he snapped.

“I-it’s in the room…”

“Damn it, Hermione! What did I tell you? Get it, now.”

She moved to stand but he pushed her back down. “Are you a bloody witch or not? Just summon the damn thing! I don’t want you getting up until I can look you over. Summon my handkerchief while you’re at it,” he said, moving to the sink and turning on the water. Hermione’s stomach twisted. This would be the first time since…She shook herself mentally. It wasn’t a big deal, she would be using it soon enough, what difference did a couple of days make? She went to do it, but realized she didn’t know the spell. How could she have forgotten such a simple spell?

“I don’t remember that one…” she murmured, embarrassed. He looked at her, eyes wide.

“Excuse me?” he said, his hand floating in front of the running water, having forgotten about it.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t think of it right now, my head…”

“It’s Accio,” he said slowly, as if he couldn’t believe he was having to tell her such a mindless thing. She couldn’t believe it herself. Mulciber must have hit her harder than she’d thought.

“Accio wand!” she said, her hand held out to catch it. She waited for a moment then scrunched up her eyebrows when it didn’t come. “Accio wand!” she said more forcefully. Still, nothing. Draco turned to her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I-I don’t know,” she said. “I just…I’m not concentrating enough. Sorry, I’m a little rattled,” he nodded then leaned against the counter, arms crossed, waiting. She grew nervous. First, she couldn’t remember the spell, now she couldn’t perform it. What was wrong with her?

“A-Accio wand! Accio handkerchief!” nothing happened. Hermione and Draco stared at one another.

“Hermione, what’s the spell to stun someone?” he asked slowly.

She nearly laughed. He was testing her? She was the brightest witch of the age! “Are you kidding me? It’s…” she was nearly ill. She didn’t remember. She looked up at him in horror. “I-I don’t know. Oh, gods…I can’t remember…Draco, I can’t remember it!”

“Alright, calm down,” he knelt next to her again, looking into her face. “Can you name me one use for dragon blood?”

Hermione thought, and thought. She was blank. There was nothing there, as if there was this black void where she should know these things. Hermione had to grab the edge of the counter to keep from toppling over. She hardly felt Draco’s hands steadying her, couldn’t hear his voice reassuring her. She shook. What was wrong with her? Where had it all gone? Why couldn’t she remember anything? She tried and tried, but she came up blank. She could remember Hogwarts, remember all her friends, knew she had fought alongside everyone in battles and knew she had been at the top of her class, could remember studying until she was physically ill. But it was gone…all gone.

She was standing, Draco was pulling her to her feet, tugging her into the bedroom, lowering her to the bed, placing something in her hand. She looked at her wand, could feel the wood beneath her fingertips, could feel the warmth, the power just waiting for her to unleash it. But she couldn’t.

“Hermione, try the summon again. Here, summon this book, right here,” he pointed to a musty novel sitting on a desk beneath the window. She knew what to do, but it felt…off.

“Accio book!”

The power that thrummed under her fingers lay there dormant. She couldn’t control it. She lowered her arm to her side.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, contemplating her wand, feeling it. This was hers, she knew it. 12 ½ inches, vine wood, dragon heartstring. This was hers, her wand, her magic. Why couldn’t she wield it? Refusing to give up, Hermione stood and pointed to the book again.

“Accio book!” she said it over and over, tried other items. Draco taught her another spell, Wingardium Leviosa and she tried that one. Nothing happened but she persisted. Something would jog her memory, she was just tired.

“Hermione, stop, stop! We’ll figure something out, alright? Let’s just get you home, we’ll discuss it there.”

Home…the train. “Draco, the train! What time is it?”

“It’s not even six. But it doesn’t matter, we’re not taking the train.”

“What? What are you talking about? We don’t have any other way to go, I’m out of money,” she said. Why would they not take the train?

“We’re going to aparate,” he said, grabbing his cloak and slinging it around his shoulders.

“What? I thought you said-,”

“I lied. I needed to figure out why you had left. I knew you would just paint some simple picture as your reason but I needed the truth. They can track me, but they’ve tracked me all over this country already, it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

He grabbed the bag and stuffed his feet into his shoes while she watched him, stunned.

“You lied to me?”

“So? Not like I haven’t done it before.”

“But, this is about Harry’s life! This isn’t a game! Or…” she thought she was going to be sick. “Did you lie about that too?”

He glared at her seriously. “No, that was the truth. I may be a sick bastard but I’m not cruel.”

“Really? Because it seems to me you’ve gravitated there once or twice in your life! I thought you’d changed…”

“Some things don’t change,” his hard voice almost scared her.

“I can see that now.”

“Get your coat.”

Clutching her wand and wishing she could use it, Hermione snatched her jacket from the floor by the wall were they had…she felt ill. She’d be used by two Malfoys. What had she become?

“Let’s go,” he said. He grabbed her elbow and aparated, Hermione’s weak stomach protesting the suction. When they landed her knee screamed along with the rest of her but she wrenched herself from his grasp and looked around. They were in what seem to be a murky swamp, sickly trees springing up around them, the snow coating the dark ground.

“Close your eyes,” he said. She gave him a look that clearly told him fuck, no.

“I have to open the door. If you watch, your eyes will be burned out of your head and you’ll be Obliviated. Now shut them.”

Glaring harshly at him she closed her eyes. Silence ensued but he grabbed her upper arm and dragged her forward. “Don’t open your eyes yet,” he warned. “Not until we’re inside.”

She stumbled forward and he held her steady, telling her to step up at one point and helping her to do so. His hands seemed so gentle and she wished they could go back to the Draco of last night instead of the Malfoy of now. But he had been a lie, as everything else in her life had been. She’d been living a lie for two long years.

A door opened and he told her to step up again, placing her hand on the doorway to help her in. She felt hardwood beneath her and waited for the sound of a door closing before she opened her eyes.

It was worse than the Noble House of Black in dreariness, but no portrait screamed at her, not house elf insulted her. It was warm, safe, a feeling of security washing over her. She was back.

Directly in front of her a set of creaky stairs led to a second floor and to its right a square entry room, dark now. There were doors in the far right corner, on the right side and one directly ahead. He pulled her to the one in the far right corner, settled against the back wall. A dank rug and a couple tables and an umbrella and hat stand were the only decoration in the entry hall. Through the door was a kitchen, similar to the one in Grimmauld Place but smaller. To her right was the cooking area, a long counter separating it with the long table, scrunched into the room with nearly a dozen chairs.

“Wait here,” Malfoy said. She sat on a chair and he left. She was nervous to see everyone again. Would they hate her? Her hands shook as she clutched them together in her lap. The room was dark, shadows dancing across the walls through a small window over the sink. She could hear movement upstairs, the deep rumble of Malfoy’s voice. She followed the sound of footsteps and waited with bated breath until the door to the kitchen opened. She stood as Malfoy walked in with someone behind him.

“Draco, what is this about?” came a familier voice. The girl came into Hermione’s view as lights were lit and she caught a pair of stunned blues eyes with her own.

“Hello, Ginny.”

The red head clutched Malfoy’s arm and he put a hand on her shoulder.

“H-Hermione?” Ginny asked, weakly. She nodded.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“You’re-you’re not dead?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Ginny stepped forward with a cry and flung herself upon Hermione, hugging her.

“Oh, gods! Are you ok? Where did they have you? What have they done to you?”

“I’m fine, just a little battered.”

Ginny stood back and cupped Hermione’s sore face, looking at her. The girl was taller than she was now, her red hair cropped short, framing her head as Tonks’ used to.

“You look great, Gin.”

“Forget about me, where did those bastards take you? How did you get away?”

“They didn’t take me anywhere,” she confessed.

“What?” Ginny’s hands fell and she looked at her, confused.

“I wasn’t taken. I left.”

“But the room…the blood…”

“It was a set up,” she lied. “Nothing happened. I was upset…I was scared. I’m sorry.”

“A set up?”

“Yeah.” Hermione could see the wheels turning in Ginny’s head.

“You mean to tell me that you made it look as if you had been attacked but instead you just decided to skip town?”

Taking a deep breath she faced her best friend. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying.”

Without warning a small fist connected with her face where Mulciber had already torn into it. Hermione stumbled back, not from the strength but from the shock. Ginny hurled herself at her and would have done her worst had Malfoy not caught her.

“Ginny! Ginny, stop!”

“You fucking bitch! Do you have any idea how worried we were? Did you ever think of us? We searched for months! I’ll fucking kill you now so that empty grave we have for you can be filled!”

“Ginny, shut the fuck up!” Malfoy yelled, clutching the writhing girl harshly and throwing her behind him. Hermione wiped a trail of blood from her lip.

“No, Malfoy. I deserve it. Let her go.”

Looking at her as if she were crazy he finally did. Hermione waited for another attack but Ginny simply wrenched away from Malfoy’s grasp and stood gasping, tears rolling down her face.

“We thought you were dead. Do you have any idea what we went through? What I went through? Wasn’t it enough that I’d lost the love of my life and two brothers? Why did you think I’d have to lose you too?”

“I’m sorry-,”

“No, no, don’t you fucking start with that. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Gin, just listen to her will you?” Malfoy growled.

“What’s going on?” came a soft voice from the door.

Hermione turned and saw Luna whose eyes grew wide as dinner plates.

“Hermione?” Luna didn’t move from her spot in the doorway, one hand propped on the casing.

“In the flesh,” Ginny yelled scathingly. “Don’t worry, baby, she just went for a little trip, that’s all. Just thought she’d take a little vacation and leave us all here to clean up the pieces.”

Baby?

“Ginny, stop it. Just shut up and fucking listen to her!” Malfoy shouted, rounding on her.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Ginny stalked out of the room with a disgusted look at Hermione. Luna tried to catch her arm but failed to stop her.

“Go cool her down, will you?” Malfoy said to Luna. “You’re the only one who seems to be able to get through her thick skull.”

Luna nodded and with one last, confused look at Hermione she took off, yelling for Ginny.

The silence filled the air, choking the two people in the room.

“So,” Hermione sighed, settling in a chair. “That went well.”

“Just give her some time, she’ll come around,” Malfoy said, hands digging into his jeans pockets.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s right. I’m scum.”

“You’re not,” he said darkly. “She doesn’t understand why. If you would stop being so noble and tell her she would swallow her words and support you as a friend should.”

“She’d not going to find out, do you hear me?” Hermione said, her tone deadly. “She’s not to know about any of this. It doesn’t matter why I left, I never should have. I deserve anything she can throw at me and worse. If you have any sort of decency left in you, you’ll keep your mouth shut. Got me?”

Malfoy looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon. Finally, he nodded once. “I think I can do that. Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do. Excuse me.”

He left and Hermione dropped her head into her hands.

What had she done?

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A/N: Hope you guys are still enjoying this. It’s going to get interesting… :)

XOXO

RynStar15