Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

In the Dungeons	By : amidtheflowers Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9386 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its respective characters belong to J.K. Rowling. This plot line, however, belongs to me. No money or profit are made from writing this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3

A week had passed since the incident in the bathroom. After leaving Draco with Moaning Myrtle's company, Hermione had rushed up the girls' dormitory and scrubbed the evening away in the shower, shivering at the memory of Malfoy's lips against hers, then curled into bed with a fervent mantra to wake up in the morning and realize the entire affair had been a dream.

But it had not been a dream, something Hermione bitterly accepted the next morning. She went about the next few days steeling herself, ignoring Ron's very existence, and vaguely interacting with a now awkward Harry. He was unfortunately stuck between two friendships, and had long rejected any idea of reconciliation.

A few days later, however, he had approached her during breakfast in the Great Hall.

"Er, good morning, Hermione," he said meekly as he sat down beside her. She grabbed a knife from the across the table and saw Harry stiffen for a moment, but relaxed when he saw she was merely buttering her toast.

"Good morning," was her terse reply. Harry fidgeted a bit, rumpling his hair in indecision, when he finally said, "I'm ah, really sorry about last night."

The knife's movements froze. Hermione didn't reply, and Harry took a breath.

"I don't know how things got out of hand, and I know I was siding with Ron in the beginning but—well, you saw what happened after."

The corners of Hermione's mouth quirked slightly at the memory of Harry casting jinx after jinx at the infuriating ginger. "Yes, I remember." She looked up and peered at Harry's green eyes. He was genuinely stricken, and she saw nothing but honesty in his eyes.

"It's alright, now, you don't have to be scared around me," Hermione teased, and saw Harry's shoulders relax. He grinned and began helping himself with some breakfast as well. And though they didn't mention the party ever again, they knew it was no longer something they had to worry about where they were concerned.

As the Great Hall was beginning to fill with its sleepy students trudging down and slumping in their seats, the Gryffindor table too became packed. Ginny had taken a post by Hermione, and Luna had decided that the Gryffindor side was far more interesting than the Ravenclaw's.

Hermione noticed from the slight corner of her eye that Ron was avoiding all of them. He sat at the far end of the table with Lavender, who seemed put-out with Ron's sour mood. He kept stealing glances at Harry and Hermione, and Hermione turned her head to Harry and began chatting animatedly, effectively ignoring the smarmy git.

And that was how the rest of the week remained. Ron didn't show up until late at night in the common room, as he and Malfoy were serving detention for this entire week before Christmas holidays began. It was today, on Friday, that she began to worry if she would be returning home without visiting the Burrow.

But she truly couldn't stand putting herself through that. Sadly, she realized would not be seeing Harry either, as he would be going to the Burrow with Ron and Ginny as well.

Hermione took her time placing her clothes into her trunk before grabbing her wand steadily and descending down into the Gryffindor common room. She was on rounds tonight for the last time until she came back from the holidays. She hoped,hoped, she would not bump into people she did not want to see.

Please don't let anything ruin my last night at Hogwarts, she pleaded silently to whatever would listen. Taking a shaky breath, she exited the portrait hole.

Hermione made rounds carefully, scolding a few boys to go back to their dormitories and end their game of Exploding Snap. She was nearly finished and began making her way up the grand staircase when she bumped into another prefect.

"Oh, I'm sorr—" the apology died on her lips as she saw who it was.

Of course, Hermione thought bitterly. How naïve of me to think I'd have a perfectly nice evening.

"Watch where you bloody well are going!" she snapped, but Malfoy did not bother to look at her. In fact, he didn't even seem to realize he'd bumped into her. Hermione's eyebrows rose as she watched him give only a dark glare before turning away. Her eyes slid to a letter that was tucked in his grip as he resumed his pace down the steps, effectively ignoring her.

Well that was… unexpected.

She almost said something again just to annoy him, but Malfoy disappeared too quickly for her to get the chance. She frowned as he turned to the Entrance Hall and headed to the dungeons.

What was that?

Malfoy had left for quite some time before Hermione carefully walked down the grand staircase to follow him. She couldn't believe what she was doing; didn't she want Malfoy to ignore her existence? Especially after all that had happened between them already?

Her quick movements to the dungeons entrance faltered. She was being silly. She would get caught. She would have to speak with Malfoy about why she was hot on his heels, which would not be a pleasant conversation. It was nearly curfew. This adventure was futile.

Her legs resumed its quick pace for the dungeons nonetheless.

Curiosity got the best of her. Malfoy had done his own little sneaking, hadn't he? Caught her at a vulnerable moment in the girls' bathroom, hadn't he? She had every right to meddle in his life, just a tad bit. No one would know. It was just a little harmless pursuit.

Plus, Hermione consoled to herself, Harry and Ron would've done the same. They even drank Polyjuice Potion back in their second year just to spy on Malfoy! If anything, Harry would be pleasantly surprised—and dare she say, proud?—that Hermione explored for answers on her own.

These thoughts led her to a sudden halt as she heard noises coming from one of the classrooms. Treading lightly on her feet, Hermione caught glimpse of a head of blonde hair.

"You need to calm down," a subdued voice said softly, whom she distinctly recognized to be Snape's. Her eyebrows furrowed. Why was Malfoy having a private audience with Snape?

"How do you expect me to calm down when he has my bloody mother?" Malfoy's harsh voice hissed.

"She was warned about this, Draco, as were you," Snape replied, slightly annoyed. "And you would do well to keep this to yourself until you reach Malfoy Manor tomorrow evening. I encourage you to go to bed now, Mr. Malfoy."

"Not until I have some answers," Malfoy growled dangerously. Hermione stiffened at the coldness in his voice.

Snape responded silkily, "Then I suggest you get accustomed to disappointment. Good night, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy exhaled harshly before whispering something that Hermione couldn't quite catch. She staggered behind a wall when the door suddenly flew open and Malfoy stalked out of the classroom, rage etched on his face. Her eyes fell back on his hand, which still clutched a letter.

Malfoy's strides halted for a moment. He breathed deeply and his fingers twitched, and Hermione flattened herself against the wall further. Had he noticed her presence?

He inhaled deeply, then resumed his pace in the dungeons, disappearing as he turned a corner.

Hermione sagged against the wall in relief. Though the trip to the dungeons left her implacably puzzled. What had happened to Malfoy's mother that left him so worried?

Shaking her head, Hermione travelled back to the Entrance Hall and up the grand staircase, pondering over what she'd just overheard.

xxx

The Hogwarts Express train bulleted out of sight and emerged into London quickly, faster than she'd ever remembered. She decided to sit with Ginny, Luna, and Neville, as it would have been far too uncomfortable to attempt sitting with Harry, who, despite his undying friendship with Hermione, couldn't help but still sit with Ron. She understood it and accepted it; they were best mates, after all, and were friends before Hermione became Harry's friend in their first year.

Still, it stung just a bit when he gave her an apologetic smile and sat it the compartment with Ron.

"I'm off to the restroom," Hermione said as she swiftly stood from her seat and slid the compartment door open. She made her way down the train aisles until she reached the locked door of the bathroom. Tapping her foot impatiently, she couldn't help but overhear a conversation inside the locked door.

Her curiosity piqued, Hermione leaned in to listen. There were not supposed to be two people in the toilet at once. She gripped her wand as she readied herself to split up the amorous couple that was inside together.

"…don't care," she heard a gruff voice whisper harshly. "You can't come over this holiday, or any holiday ever again."

"But why?" an insistent voice said, distinctly female. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you like this? You were fine yesterday, and all of sudden it's like you flipped a switch into a different person. Ever since you got that bloody letter—"

"Stop deluding yourself into thinking you know me, you silly girl," the voice sneered, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine. Hermione sidled against a jutting wall and hid from view as the bathroom door slid open. Hermione was surprised to see Pansy Parkinson walk out with obviously red eyes as if she'd been crying, and a few moments later a platinum blonde head emerged from the bathroom.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and forgetting her need to use the toilet, silently walked back to her compartment and sat in deep thought. I should probably tell Harry, Hermione thought vaguely. Perhaps this had something to do with Voldemort? The Malfoys were well-know Death Eaters, after all, and it was only a matter of time before Draco Malfoy succumbed to the dark side.

And after the encounter with Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic last June, and especially after the death of Sirius Black…Hermione vaguely remembered Lucius Malfoy's arrest and involvement…

I will tell him.

Hermione stood silently and slid the compartment door open. She sauntered down the train until she went to the compartment Harry and Ron were in. With a twinge she remembered how she had always been there with them in this very compartment that had long been exclusively theirs. Somehow everyone seemed to know that this compartment was usually taken by them three, and they steered clear from it.

Her eyes wandered to her fingers sadly as they grasped the handle of the compartment door. With a shaky breath, she slid it open.

Ron and Harry were gazing out the window when she stepped inside. Harry noticed her presence and straightened, smiling. Ron noticed Harry's movement and wandered his eyes to Hermione, stiffening slightly.

He seemed at a loss of words, as was Harry, and Hermione cleared her throat, suddenly unsure of herself.

"Er, Harry, I've got to speak with you." She fidgeted as Harry nodded, "Okay. Ah, what is it?"

Hermione tilted her head to the door, indicating she needed to speak with him privately. Ron, who had been strangely silent, noticed this and glared. "Anything you have to say to him you can say in front of me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and said coldly, "I could, couldn't I? But I won't. Harry?" She was looking at him expectantly and he began to rise when Ron's hand shot out to grab Harry's wrist.

"Harry's staying," Ron said vehemently but Harry scowled.

"Ron, stop being such a damn twat," Harry snapped irritatedly and shrugged off Ron's grip. "You may have a problem with her but I don't."

"So you're taking her side now?" Ron hissed.

"There are no sides!"

Hermione was slowly losing her patience. Finally she interrupted, "Forget it. I see my coming here was a mistake."

"Damn right, it was," Ron snapped, and Hermione flinched. Ron froze for a moment as he saw the pain flicker in her eyes, and he suddenly looked contrite but said nothing. She felt her face suddenly warm and turned on her heel, throwing the compartment door open and stalking back to her own compartment.

Well that was a waste of time, Hermione thought angrily. She'd just have to tell Harry after the holidays. Perhaps it wasn't that important after all.

They arrived at King's Cross a half hour later, and the students filed animatedly out of the Hogwarts Express train. Hermione hauled her luggage with a grimace and pushed her way out of the train.

The sky was grey and bleak, and the ground was damp as if it had just stopped raining. Hermione searched for the familiar faces of her parents, but to her dismay she couldn't spot them. It was after a few minutes of strolling about worriedly that she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Hermione spun around, her hand automatically gripping the wand in her pocket, but was surprised to see a familiar face.

"Mrs. Hart?" Hermione said in disbelief. The elderly lady gazed at her kindly, and Hermione knew her to be her neighbor. She'd often bring raison cookies to her house over the summertime. At the moment, however, she did not see the cheerful lady but a somber one.

"Hello, Hermione dear," she smiled.

"Erm, where are Mum and Dad?" Hermione asked tentatively, afraid of what answer she would be receiving at this point. Mrs. Hart looked down at her sadly.

Her parents were on their way to the station, Mrs. Hart began to explain, when a bus collided into their car at an intersection. They were currently in the hospital, and Mrs. Hart had come down to the station to fetch her.

Hermione listened calmly and requested to be taken to the hospital immediately. Mrs. Hart complied, and drove her in silence.

When they arrived Hermione quickly went to the room they were being held in. She sucked in a breath when her eyes fell on them, lying still on the hospital beds. Her mother's face was heavily bruised, and her father had a cast on his leg.

"Miss Granger," the attending doctor told her as she stepped outside the room. "The damages are quite extensive, and your father suffered from severe brain trauma upon the impact of the accident, but they've both been stabilized. We need to run a cerebral angiography on your father, however, to check for a brain aneurysm."

Hermione nodded numbly as the doctor continued to speak to her but she was barely listening. They shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be in a muggle hospital. She should treat them herself, and her fingers twitched to the wand in her pocket.

But no, she couldn't. She was no longer at Hogwarts. If she were to perform any underage magic, she'd surely be expelled.

Hermione nearly screamed at her helplessness. She was a witch, for Merlin's sake! What was the point of having all this magic inside of her if she couldn't use it to help heal her own parents?

Perhaps, then, she should find someone who wasn't underage.

Hermione left the hospital and Mrs. Hart drove her home. Hermione quietly thanked her and brought all of her luggage up to her room. She looked around vacantly, feeling strange to be home without her parents. Even stranger, being home at all during Christmas. She should've been at the Burrow, just like every other year.

For once she was grateful for the quarrel with Ron, or else she wouldn't have found out about her parents at all. Her family had no wizard friends, as she lived in muggle London and had believed to be a muggle up until her 11th year. They would have remained in the hospital, utterly alone.

Hermione strode to her desk and opened a drawer taking out a pen and paper. She contemplated using a parchment and quill, but it would have taken far too long to dig it out of her school trunk. So she scribbled furiously, and then folded the paper and slipped it inside a small envelope. She went over to the tawny barn owl that she owned. Slipping open the cage, Hermione stroked its feathers and tied the letter to her leg.

"Be quick," she whispered and the owl hooted softly in confirmation before setting flight outside her window. She sank on her bed and dropped her head in her hands, trembling.

xxx

"The Dark Lord's orders are final," Draco heard the maniacal woman whisper softly. He sat on the sofa in his living room at Malfoy Manor, his twisted aunt hovering a few inches away from his ear. Draco felt nothing but revulsion as she stroked his hair cajolingly.

"What of my mother?" he gritted out.

Bellatrix turned Draco's chin to face her, her eyes suddenly gone cold. "Step inside the dining room, and He shall tell you Himself," Bellatrix said firmly. "Really, Draco, I expected more from my nephew. You should be honored," he felt the hand that was stroking his hair tightened its grip so that she yanked his head back, "that the Dark Lord has entrusted you with a mission."

"As I am," he replied coldly, eyes never leaving hers. She inspected him carefully, trying to find something. A falter. But he didn't let it happen. His eyes were dead as he stared into her bottomless eyes.

"That's my baby boy," Bellatrix smiled, satisfied, and ruffled his hair before taking a step back and nodding over to the door that led to the dining room. "He is waiting. As are the rest of them."

He stood slowly and began to walk over to the dining room, Bellatrix only a step behind him. He felt his stomach twist in a knot and his heart turn cold. Masking his face into one of indifference, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

Each chair was occupied in long stretch of a dining table. Draco recognized almost every face, and as his eyes travelled to the occupant sitting at the very front of the table, he felt his heart stop.

Move, speak! Draco's mind shouted as he stared at a pair of gleaming red eyes. Quickly Draco dropped his gaze and bowed. "My lord," he whispered solemnly, his throat constricting.

"Ah, my boy," Voldemort's high, cruel voice said softly. "Take a seat. We've been waiting."

Draco felt his feet moving on their own accord as Draco sat silently. From the corner of his eye he watched Bellatrix do the same, taking a seat by Voldemort's left-hand side.

"We have waited long enough for this," Voldemort began, his red eyes scanning his followers. None dared to meet his eyes. "And it is with regret that I hadn't started this earlier…no matter, all has fallen in place nonetheless."

Not a word was spoken. Voldemort continued, "We cannot hope to move on, however, without eliminating those who stand in our way."

"If I may, my lord," a deep voice interrupted. Everyone looked up to stare at the one who dared to speak. It was a man with light hair tied back, whom Draco recognized as Yaxley. "We have already infiltrated the Ministry. If you wish, we can overhaul—"

"There will be no need," Voldemort said coldly, and Yaxley silenced immediately. "We cannot hope to continue any further without a few deaths. I am quite sure you know whom I am referring to."

"Albus Dumbledore."

A painful knot twisted in Draco's stomach again, his heart spiraling in darkness. He had always known, but…

"I will do it, my lord," Bellatrix said fervently. She was the only one who dared look at him directly, even leaned over as far as she could to be near him. Voldemort eyed her with subtle amusement. "I will take him down. It will be no hard task at all."

Voldemort chuckled, causing a shiver to go down Draco's spine. "As much as I enjoy your enthusiasm, it will not be you who must kill him." His eyes slid over to Draco, and his eyes were sparkling in delight. "It will be him."

He felt the eyes penetrate him and Draco wanted to die. His finger thumbed the wand in his pocket. He knew the curse. It would be so easy, to end it. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to do this. He was ready.

He thought of his mother.

Draco forced his eyes up to gaze at Voldemort. He tried very hard to keep emotion from flitting through on his face. "Draco Malfoy," Voldemort's cruel voice said coldly, "you will kill Albus Dumbledore."

It was almost laughable, that he was entrusting this with him. But inside, Draco knew the real reason behind it. It was to punish him for the mistakes his father had made a few months prior. Lucius Malfoy had been captured at the Ministry of Magic last June, and this was his repayment. Voldemort knew quite well that Draco would not be able to kill Dumbledore; heexpected it.

He merely wanted the satisfaction of torturing Draco as slowly as possible. As was expected from a family whose name was spiraling down in shame quicker than the Blacks.

But he knew the only way to keep his mother alive and safe was to let himself be pulled by the strings.

He looked at Voldemort in the eye, unwavering, and replied, "Yes, my lord."

xxx

"I got your owl and came as quickly as I could," Tonks said as they walked briskly down the corridors of the hospital. "What is it that you'd like me to do?"

"Just check their health status," Hermione said quickly. "I need to know each and every thing that is ailing them. And if I could treat them myself."

She ushered Tonks into the room her parents were staying in. She could see the frown on Tonks' lips and she muttered, "I'm sorry about what happened."

Hermione shook her head. "It couldn't be helped."

Tonks nodded. "What would you like me to do first?"

"Check if this was any magic involved in their injury," Hermione responded at once. Tonks nodded and raised her wand, muttering an incantation. After a few brief moments, she lowered it and shook her head. "No, this truly was an accident. No magic involved."

Hermione let out a breath, and nodded slowly. "Okay. Do the exam."

Tonks raised her wand again and Hermione waited anxiously. This was more back-up information than anything else. She'd read the charts made on her parents, and already knew what ailed them. She just needed to verify if there were any other things the muggle doctors had missed.

"Your mother has a fractured wrist, and a few bumps and bruises, but otherwise I don't see much else," Tonks muttered. "Your father…" she waved her wand again. "Broken leg. Swelling in the brain." Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "He's pretty beat up. He's running a fever, too."

"Can't we take them to St. Mungo's?" Hermione said desperately.

Tonks looked at her sadly. "I don't think we can, Hermione. Muggles aren't allowed there. It would breach a million rules, and your parents don't exactly have magically inflicted injuries."

For the first time Hermione grew agitated by Tonks. "Well, seeing as I can't do magic right now, is there anything you can heal?"

Tonks grew nervous under her gaze. "I-I've never been very good at healing…"

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, steadying herself. She opened them again and replied, "That's alright. Thanks anyway, Tonks. I appreciate all that you've done for me."

Tonks looked at her despairingly and said, "I'm really sorry, Hermione. I wish I could do more for you."

Hermione nodded silently and gazed back at her parents. "I have no idea when they're going to wake up," she whispered more to herself than to Tonks. Tonks patted her shoulder gently.

"Would you like me to tell Harry and everyone else?" Tonks said softly.

Hermione glanced up at her sharply. "No, don't bother," she said. "There's no point worrying them over nothing. Actually, it'd be great if you didn't mention this at all."

Tonks' eyes raked over her face worriedly, but nodded anyway.

"It was good to see you, Hermione."

"You too."

Tonks slowly walked out the door and left the building. Hermione sat down on a chair beside her mother's bed and gingerly took her hand gently.

An idea sparked inside her.

"I may not be able to do magic," Hermione whispered slowly, "but I can still use a cauldron."

Leaning over to kiss her mother and father on the cheek, Hermione left the hospital and bounded outside to catch Tonks before she left.

"Wait!" Hermione called, catching Tonks as she prepared to apparate. Tonks wheeled around and stared at her in confusion. Hermione stopped in front of her and said breathlessly, "Will you help me brew some potions?"

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Hermione, I—"

"You don't have to worry; I will be doing all the brewing. I'll need you once in a while to use your wand and cast a small spell here and there. I promise I won't take up too much of your time. Please," Hermione persisted. "I can't do this without you. My parents…they're all I've got here."

Tonks sighed and nodded firmly. "Of course, Hermione. You only need to call when you need me."

She smiled and disapparated,

Hastily Hermione ran to her house and threw open her bedroom door and sank to her knees by her Hogwarts trunk, searching and searching before she came upon a heavy bag filled with different-sized coins. Not bothering to change out of her Muggle clothes, Hermione stepped outside with grim determination buzzing through her veins.

Walking through London during the evening was no trouble for Hermione as she took sharp corners and backstreets. After all, she had grown up on these streets. Still, she kept her wand close to her as she travelled in the less-reputable areas. She sighed in relief when she saw the familiar sign with a cauldron and a witch brewing it, and pushed open the door to the building.

The Leaky Cauldron was quite filled, and Hermione wasted no time to brush past the others and go out the back of the room. The chill air hit her again as she neared the opposite wall with trash cans in front. She tapped the bricks accordingly, and waited for them to part for her.

Diagon Alley opened before her as magnificently as it had the first time she'd ever set foot in it. She scanned the area and noticed that not many people were scouring the streets of Diagon Alley today. Shaking her head, she began to walk.

Slug and Jiggers Apothecary was, unsurprisingly, very close to the entrance to Knockturn Alley. The area itself was morbid and dark, and unfriendly gargoyles were stationed on either side of the store. Still, Hermione needed the ingredients to the various potions she was about to make, so she ignored the ominous aura and pushed open the wooden door. As she stepped inside and eyed the many bottles carefully, she began taking the items she needed. She was slightly miffed at the prices, but the bag of gold in her purse would surely cover the costs.

She reached the counter where a bored looking man with dark hair was enchanting a deck of cards to tap-dance. When she placed the items onto the counter, he raised his eyes and drawled, "Would that be all, miss?"

"Yes," she replied tersely.

"Twenty-four galleons."

Her eyes widened. "Twenty-four galleons? That's ridiculous! I bought nearly all these ingredients just this past August for ten galleons less!"

"Twenty. Four. Galleons," the shop boy enunciated slowly as if she were deaf. Hermione set her jaw and furiously dug inside her purse, haphazardly throwing the gold onto the counter. With a lazy flick of his wrist the gold disappeared and the bottles she purchased wrapped themselves neatly, then zoomed inside a bag.

"Have a nice night, miss," the boy smirked, noticing her peeved expression, and resumed his idle amusement with the tap-dancing cards. Hermione said nothing and grabbed the bag, quickly exiting the apothecary, fuming.

"Twenty-four galleons," Hermione muttered indignantly as she strode back to the Leaky Cauldron.

She let out a breath of relief when she peeked inside her bag of ingredients. It wouldn't take long at all to make the drafts and potions she had in mind. As long as Tonks showed up when she called, everything would be smooth-sailing from here on out.

Her mind wandered back to Harry and Ron. She wished that they could all set aside their differences and just let everything go back to normal. But Ron was too much of a bigot to let things slide, and Hermione refused to put up with his childishness. And as much as she wished to confide in Harry, anything she told him would instantaneously be known to Ron as well.

Plus, Harry had enough on his plate this year. After Sirius's death, Harry hadn't been the same. On top of that, he was meeting with Dumbledore almost weekly now, discussing things that Harry was too overwhelmed to confide about. All in due time, though.

Still…Hermione couldn't help but feel a little alone now. There was nobody at home anymore. She was cut off from her best friends. Her parents were on the brink of death.

Tom the bartender noticed her pause in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron and called, "Would you like a drink, miss?"

Hermione almost automatically said 'no' but caught herself. She thought about the event of her going home to an empty house, and the absence of Harry and Ron.

"Yes," she said softly, ordering a chilled glass of butterbeer and sat on a chair, sipping quietly.

xxx

Draco noticed the moment she came back from Diagon Alley. She had a bag clutched in her left hand and a beaded purse in the other, and suddenly she stopped in the middle of the bar as if in deep thought. It was almost funny the way he could see every emotion that flickered on her pale face. Suddenly Tom decided to offer her a drink, and after a moment's hesitation, she accepted.

He'd been sitting in the Leaky Cauldron for what seemed like eternity now. Not that he had anywhere else to be. His father was in Azkaban and his mother was missing. The only company he had at Malfoy Manor were the house-elves and his deranged aunt Bellatrix. Not really his choice of company.

He decided to spend as much time away from home as possible, and the rage pulsating inside his blood urged him to get hammered immediately after the meeting with Voldemort. The purity of his bloodline had saved him from the horrors the muggleborns received from Voldemort and his followers, but now he was in an entirely new predicament.

Draco's fingers lightly touched his forearm where he knew the Dark Mark tattoo was, though it was currently hidden underneath the black sleeve of his sweater. Curse his family for being obsessed with Purebloods. Curse his father for getting caught. Curse his mother for trying to protect him. Curse himself, for being very much a tool.

Draco was raised with words of poison and hatred as his nourishment since as far as he could remember. He despised mudbloods, and bullied anyone who got in his way. Even now as he saw the plain look on Hermione, sitting down sipping her butterbeer in silence, he couldn't help the instant feeling of revulsion and hatred towards her. It wasn't just that she outsmarted him in everything, or that she was friends with Potter and Weasley and the rest of their sorry lot. No, he hated her for something she had no control over. And it disgusted him.

He looked away from her, not wanting to feel these feelings of immense loathing any longer. Did he really hate muggleborns? He didn't know. For now though, he would have to.

Killing Dumbledore…Draco suppressed a shudder. That old coot was far too wise and knowing to fall for any trick Draco might send his way to lead him to his ultimate demise. Merlin, if Voldemort was never able to kill Dumbledore, how on earth was he going to do it?

I can't. I can't.

I must.

There had to be another way. There had to be a loophole. He was just sixteen; how was he expected to murder someone?

You know the spell, the back of his mind whispered. It won't be hard at all…

His eyes snapped back to Hermione, and was surprised to see her hand tangled in her hair and the other on her drink, and as he inspected her face closely he saw—tears? Why was she crying?

Probably over that pathetic ginger, Malfoy thought snidely. Really, he didn't know why she bothered feeling upset over that oaf. He was almost sure that Hermione had found greater pleasure in the thirty seconds they had been intimate together in Myrtle's bathroom than the six years she'd know Ron.

She suddenly drained her cup and placed a few sickles on the table before rising and brushing the back of her hand on her cheeks. He watched her take a steadying breath as she clutched her bags again, and her face transformed into a blank, determined mask. With swift steps she went to the door and exited the Leaky Cauldron.

Interesting…Draco thought vaguely, when he felt a small tap on his shoulder. A girl with golden hair and bright blue eyes was smiling down at him. "Can I buy you a drink?" she smiled sweetly, leaning over so he could see every curve of her body. He already felt his head feeling hazy and his body numb from the alcohol he'd consumed already, but he couldn't stop the slow grin that spread on his face as he raised an eyebrow.

"Of course," he drawled, and pulled out a seat for her. Her pretty blue eyes shined before taking a seat as she began to talk to him, but there was a silent promise in her eyes as her hand brushed his leg.

Interesting, but not interesting enough, was his last thought as he forgot about Granger completely and drained his cup of firewhiskey.

xxx

Hermione spent the next few days diligently in front of her cauldron, chopping small pieces of ingredients and carefully stirring the viscous liquid inside of it. Once in a while Tonks would show up, just as Hermione had owled her to, and muttered a few simple spells on the concoctions before disapparating back to Grimmauld Place, or wherever it was she was visiting. They rarely spoke much, as Hermione was far too deep in concentration with her Advanced Potions book open in her lap. It was unfortunate that Hermione couldn't use magic, because for once she'd really like to be alone, and didn't like her dependence on Tonks with this. Perhaps it was the inner perfectionist in her, but she couldn't afford something going wrong with these potions and drafts. The slightest mistake in Tonks' wand waving and the entire solution would explode.

Though, Hermione had to give credit where it was due. Tonks didn't become an Auror without having the proper prospects for it. She was extremely intelligent, and very decisive in her spells, and it was unfortunate that her only weakness was in healing spells. However, she did splendidly on whenever Hermione had asked her to cast a spell on the potion.

Every night, however, after the day's brewing was complete, Hermione found herself in silence. She cleaned the house for a while, flipped through the channels on her television, and even decided to cook whatever was left in the fridge. As the hours rolled by she had less and less to do, and ended up lying on the couch staring at the ceiling, listening to the clock tick.

It was then that she decided to grab her coat and walk out in the chilly winter air, making her way to the Leaky Cauldron again.

It was nighttime, and the pub was thriving in activity. Hermione ordered a large glass of spiced butterbeer, then removed her coat and sat down on the chair. She stared at her hands that were folded neatly on the table. Sighing, she looked around.

There were mostly adult wizards and witches, most who were too drunk to know where they were. She pitied them, knowing that if they tried to apparate in such a state they would most likely splinch themselves. Shaking her head, she thanked the waiter who placed her glass on the table and took a generous sip.

It was then that she felt a chill down her back, as if someone were staring at her. She glanced up and stopped breathing, shock registered on her face.

Why on earth was Draco Malfoy here?

He didn't gaze at her long as he began to drink deeply from his cup. In fact, he almost seemed bored, though she couldn't understand why. There were two girls sitting at his table, talking animatedly to him. He looked like he couldn't care less what they were saying, and he suppressed a sigh before drinking again, as if to drown out the noise around him.

He never looked at Hermione again, didn't even seem to be aware of the girls sitting with him. He merely stared into his cup and glowered. Hermione finished her drink and ordered a second, sinking in her chair as she inspected him carefully. Hopefully he would continue to ignore her presence and not cause a scene. She knew, even though they had kissed in the girls' bathroom, that he despised her.

The feeling was mutual.

When she drained her third cup she placed a handful of money on the table and shrugged her coat back on. Her wristwatch told her it was way past twelve already, and shock coursed through her. She'd been sitting here since nine.

She grabbed her purse and began to walk to the door. As her fingers rested on the doorknob, she went against her better judgment and cast one last glance at Malfoy. He was watching her, ignoring the occupants at his table completely. He raised his glass to his lips and drank, then refocused his eyes on the girls before him.

Hermione didn't know what to think of that. Biting her lip, she opened the door and walked down the alleys that led her back home.

That was how it remained for the next few days. During the day Hermione would brew her potion, and when she exhausted herself with nothing left to do, she walked calmly over to the Leaky Cauldron and drank her butterbeer. Every time she sat down her eyes found Malfoy's, who was sitting as far away as possible, as usual. They made no form of contact after that, ignored each other completely, and went about their drinking business. Hermione never bothered to drink the alcoholic beverages, for she never liked the taste of them, so she stuck with sweeter and less inhibiting drinks.

From the looks of it, Malfoy was drinking himself into oblivion on a daily basis. At first she wondered what had caused him to seem so miserable and detached every day, but decided to stop wondering and leave it to rest. The less she knew about Malfoy, the better.

She noticed that his hair was not slicked back neatly as it used to be, but was disheveled and fell into his eyes a lot. He looked paler than normal and dark circles appeared under his eyes, an indicator to many sleepless nights.

On Christmas Eve the potions were complete. Hermione was budding with suppressed excitement as she capped the small vials and placed them carefully in her bag. She walked briskly to the hospital and went immediately to the room her parents were being held in. The familiar feeling of sadness washed over her as she gazed at them, helpless and still on their beds.

Within moments Tonks arrived at the door, and Hermione smiled gratefully.

"Good morning," Hermione said softly, and Tonks smiled. "Good morning, doll," Tonks replied, and she glanced around the room.

"Could you disable the cameras in the left corner of the room?" Hermione asked quietly. Tonks raised her brows.

"Cam-whats?"

"The rectangular boxes on the ceiling. I want you to freeze charm them." Tonks nodded and flicked her wand, and the red dot on the cameras disappeared, indicating that they'd been disabled. Hermione moved to stand beside her mother and withdrew the first potion.

Tilting her head delicately, Hermione poured the potion down her mother's mouth, and she swallowed the drink automatically. With satisfaction she noted that the bruises on her face were getting significantly lighter. Moving to her father, she did the same and received the same results. Tonks let out a breath of relief.

"Well, that went well," Tonks grinned, and Hermione's lips quirked slightly.

"We've only won half the battle right. The others are a bit tricky."

Hermione carefully poured draft after draft, watching her parents cautiously. The potion for healing broken bones had worked, for she heard bones clicking softly in place. She recognized that sound from when Harry had taken a similar potion after breaking several ribs and legs after Quidditch matches.

The last one left was for her father. She gripped the vial tightly. It was meant to help the trauma he'd received on his brain after the accident. Taking a shaky breath, Hermione turned to Tonks.

"I need you to magically draw the liquid into his mouth and into his stomach. Every drop needs to go in for it to work effectively." Tonks nodded firmly and raised her wand, drawing the purplish liquid from the vial. Hermione watched the liquid drain into her father's mouth, and knew that it had reached his stomach when Tonks exhaled slowly and lowered her wand.

Instantly his body began to tremble, and an alarm sounded as his body shivered uncontrollably. Hermione stumbled back, eyes widened in shock.

"Is he supposed to do that?" Tonks asked in panic, and Hermione violently shook her head.

"No, no, this isn't right…I brewed it perfectly, I tested it—he shouldn't be acting this way!"

The doors flew open and the attending doctor and resident strode in and immediately walked over to her father. "He's coding," the doctor said, and the nurses came in and ushered Hermione and Tonks away to the side.

"Dad?" Hermione whispered as they took out his intibator. Everything began happening very fast, and she could vaguely feel Tonks gripping her arm very tightly, muttering soothing words. Hermione was having none of that. Her eyes were glued in horror to the sight before her.

"Get her out of here," a male voice snapped, and she felt herself being dragged out the door. Hermione resisted and fought away from the arms that tried to take her away. She pressed herself against the cold wall directly in front of the hospital beds.

A droning sound toned continuously and Tonks whispered, "What's happening? What's that sound?" Hermione's eyes travelled to the monitors and saw the flatline. Something inside her snapped.

"Fix him," Hermione turned to Tonks with wild eyes. "I don't care what you do, do something! Fix him! Use your bloody wand!"

"Hermione, I—"

"FIX HIM!"

Tonks' eyes glistened and she raised her wand, casting nonverbal spell after nonverbal spell. The tone continued to beep as the doctors tried to resuscitate the man lying on the bed.

Several painful minutes went by. The doctors retreated slightly, panting.

"Time of death: 12:55 p.m."

Tonks stiffened at those words and lowered her wand, stopping the incantations. Gingerly she stuffed it in her robes. Hermione could feel her eyes on her.

"Daddy?" she whispered, horror seeping through her flesh.

You killed him, a tiny voice whispered, taunting her. You fed him that potion. You were wrong. You killed him.

Murderer.

"Hermione?" Tonks' tentative voice ripped her from her stupor. People were speaking to her, ushering her out of the room. Hermione felt nothing. Heard nothing. She felt ice enclosing her body, slowing her pulse, making her shiver.

She felt hands leading her to a sofa in the waiting room, urging her gently to sit. She complied. For a while she was left to stare into space, not really thinking of anything.

Murderer.

The potion was flawless. It was brewed to perfection, she'd even tested it—

What went wrong?

"Hermione?"

It was Tonks again. Her normally ultraviolet hair was a dark shade of brown. She kneeled in front of Hermione, her eyes piercing Hermione's.

"I did a spell—it wasn't the potion that caused his death."

Hermione felt something inside her burn. "How do you know?" she said, finally looking at Tonks completely. "How do you know my potion didn't kill him?"

Tonks swallowed. "He-he died because his heart gave out. He already had a lot of extensive wounds, Hermione. He was dying before you gave him any potions."

"You don't know that," Hermione snapped, fire burning in her dark eyes. "It could have been a side-effect to the potion. He could have been allergic. You don't know. You have no idea."

Tonks gazed at her despairingly, then lowered her eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Hermione," Tonks said quietly.

Hermione looked away. She felt stifled. Suddenly she stood up, causing Tonks to move away quickly. "I need to get some air."

"Hermione—"

"I expect you will stick to your word and not tell Harry and the others about this," Hermione said shortly, gazing at Tonks coldly. She felt a small twinge of regret for being so harsh, but right now she didn't care. Tonks nodded, and Hermione spun on her heel and strode out of the hospital.

Hermione could feel the anger and pain swirling inside of her in agony. Though she couldn't perform magic with her wand it didn't mean it would stay calm. She felt the electrical buzz course through her veins, pumping fiercely, blinding her with white lights and sparks. She gritted her teeth as she tried to control it, control the sparks of fury emanating from her body as her magic went haywire. Even if she didn't use a wand, she couldn't do magic. She had the trace. The Ministry would still find her. Just as Harry had cast the spell on his aunt in his third year, causing her to bloat into a balloon. The spell had been wandless and nonverbal, but magic nonetheless.

Angry sparks of magic brewed at her fingertips, and Hermione took a sharp turn, walking aimlessly as she fought for control.

Murderer. Killer. You destroyed your family. What will your mother think when she learns the truth?

A part of Hermione reasoned with Tonks' claim that the potion hadn't caused her father's demise. It was probable that that was the case. But this was too close to home. He had began convulsing the moment the potion entered his body. It was all her fault.

It was an accident, she reasoned. I didn't kill him.

She continued to walk in subdued silence.

xxx

"Your mummy may have indulged in your well-being," Bellatrix's whispered harshly in Draco's ear, "but my sister has been too lenient."

Draco looked up at her derisively. He felt her hand tighten its grip on his hair, tugged it hard. Her wand was cutting into the flesh of his neck.

"Look at her," she whispered, and Draco's eyes fell to the heap of flesh on the floor, and his heart clenched when she moaned softly. "She deserves nothing better than this; she is nothing more than mudblood filth. Show your loyalty—finish her!"

Draco gazed up at Bellatrix coolly. "But Aunt Bella, I'm not allowed to do underage magic outside school. You don't want the Ministry to come in here and see this, do you?"

Bellatrix screeched and slapped him across the face, her nails leaving a bloody trail across his cheek. Draco watched as Bellatrix let him go and walked over to the girl lying on the floor. He remembered what she looked like before Bellatrix had spotted her. She was radiant.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light hit the girl's chest and she stilled. Draco was almost glad she was given a clean death. It was merciful. After the hours Bellatrix had toyed with her, it was an almost saint-like thing to do.

Bellatrix rounded on him with a scowl. "For your insolence," she hissed and raised her wand.

Draco closed his eyes.

"Crucio."

xxx

The Leaky Cauldron was alive and well that night. Hermione sat still, eyes trained on the half-empty glass of firewhiskey in front of her. The part of her that registered her surroundings vaguely noticed that Draco Malfoy had not showed up to drink tonight. She smirked in her drink as she finished the cup. Of course he wouldn't be here. Only the most pathetic of people spent Christmas Eve in a pub. And judging from the amount of people in the Leaky Cauldron tonight, there were quite a few pathetic people in London.

The door slammed open and Hermione turned in her seat. Malfoy sauntered inside, grabbing a wine bottle from the counter and situating himself at the far end of the room. He did not touch the drink, however, and merely stared vacantly.

Hermione remained in her seat for quite some time before she looked at her watch. It was eleven o'clock already. She contemplated to return home, but stopped.

No, she didn't want to face that reality just yet.

Hermione was a little surprised at how she was handling the death of her father. After the magic attack she felt coming, she merely quelled her anger and let numbness control her body. She didn't care about anything, just the question of how much alcohol she needed to consume until she would pass out.

"Hello, darling," a deep voice interrupted her thoughts. Hermione glanced up, and saw a tall, young-looking man smiling down at her. "Mind if I drink with ya?"

Hermione didn't answer, so the man plopped down in the seat in front of her.

"I've seen you these past few days," the man said with a smile. "Always alone. And I said to myself, 'Now how can such a pretty girl like you be drinking alone?' Though I am glad you've finally started drinking something with a bit more kick to it. Makes life a whole lot easier."

Hermione ignored him. Instead she glanced back at where Malfoy was seated. It was then that she noticed the faint scars on his left cheek, as if something had attacked him. It piqued her interest.

Without another word, Hermione rose from her seat and took her glass with her, leaving the man at the table dumbstruck. She strolled over to the back end of the pub, over to where Malfoy was sitting.

His grey eyes watched her carefully as she walked over to him. He said nothing as she took a seat next to him, nor did she look at him. She merely lifted the glass to her lips and drank.

They remained in silence, and Draco picked up the wine bottle and took a generous swig. Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eye and saw the gash on his face. Her eye widened slightly. Someone had hit him.

"You look like shit," Draco noted, finally breaking their silence. Hermione gazed at him blankly.

"I could say the same." Her eyes flickered to his cheek then back to his eyes.

He did not respond. Hermione leaned her elbow against the table and gazed into the distance. Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder, and saw the same man who tried to sit with her earlier.

"I don't think we were finished," he smiled thinly, but she could see the sparks of anger in his eyes. Hermione turned away and took a sip. "No, I'm pretty sure we're done."

"Hey," he yanked her shoulder back so she could face him, and Hermione scowled and threw his hand off of her. "We're not done here."

"Fuck off," Draco drawled. "Just because you can't get laid with someone your age doesn't mean you become a pedophile."

Draco spoke loudly enough that the entire pub began to stare at them. The man stepped back, his cheeks aflame. "You just made the wrong enemy," the man hissed before turning to stride out of the Leaky Cauldron. Draco smirked and shook his head, taking another swig from his bottle.

Hermione was surprised that Malfoy had stood up for her. She stared at him curiously before saying softly, "Thank you."

Draco's eyes flickered to hers before looking away, tightening his jaw. He shrugged slightly.

Hermione glanced at the clock, noticing that it was well past midnight. "Merry Christmas," she said, though her voice was empty of emotion. He stared at her before replying, "Merry Christmas."

Hermione finished her drink and Draco took his last gulp from the bottle before placing it delicately on the table. He stood and drew out a few galleons and put them on the table. Hermione watched with surprise as he held his had out for her. She glanced up at his eyes and saw a blank mask on his face.

Smiling inside, she placed her hand in his.

He held her hand lightly as they stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron, his hand warm against the chill winter air. "Where do you live?" he said suddenly. She gazed at him suspiciously before he rolled his eyes. "It's midnight. I'll drop you off home."

Hermione nodded slowly and told him the directions, and they began to walk. Neither spoke, probably more out of confusion than discomfort. Hermione didn't know what was happening or why Malfoy was suddenly being very nice to her. She had expected him to throw nasty remarks at her the moment she sat next to him in the pub, but he did no such thing.

Her eyes wandered back to his cheek. "How did you get that?" she asked softly. She felt him stiffen.

"Not everybody seems to find me charming," he said lightly, sarcasm hidden behind his words. Hermione nodded, not pressing for details.

After a moment's hesitation, Draco asked, "Why have you been at the Leaky Cauldron all week? Why aren't you spending your holidays with your family?"

Hermione responded shortly, "Why have you been drinking yourself into oblivion every night? Don't you have a family waiting for you at home too?"

Draco's eyes went hard and he released her hand, stuffing his inside the pockets of his jacket. "I have no family waiting for me at home," he muttered quietly.

Hermione glanced up at him in shock. After a moment, she tentatively said, "Me either."

It was Draco's turn to gaze at her. What? How could she not have anyone to spend the holidays with? Surely Potter and the gang would welcome her to spend the holidays with them? What of her family?

"My parents got into an accident," Hermione answered his thoughts, and Draco's head snapped to stare at her incredulously. "They've been in the hospital all holiday. That's why I haven't been…you know…with anyone else lately."

Draco felt a flicker of pain for her, but immediately shook it away. They turned onto a back road when Draco said quietly, "My father's in prison and my mother's gone missing. There's nothing waiting for me at home either."

Hermione breathed in deeply, feeling tears welling in her eyes. "I watched someone die today."

Draco glanced at her sharply. His mind wandered back to the girl fallen on the floor of Malfoy Manor. Slowly, he admitted, "As did I."

Now Draco could see the tears clearly swirling in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall just yet. Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "What a fantastic world we live in."

"The best," Draco agreed sardonically.

They stopped in front of a modest-looking house covered in snow. Hermione pulled off her gloves and hastily searched through her purse. She retrieved a bronze key, and turned to face him.

"Well, good night, Draco," she said softly.

He gazed at her in the moonlight, puffs of cold air coming from his mouth. "Good night."

She put up a small smile before putting the key in the lock and opening the door. He glanced at her once more before she closed the door behind her.

Draco let out a breath before something caught his eye. It was a small black glove; the same one Hermione had been wearing a few moments ago. Reaching down Draco picked it up, brushing the snow from it.

He knocked on the door a few times. When she didn't answer, he said, "Er, Granger? You, ah, left this behind…" He turned the knob and the door surprisingly opened. His eyes widened when he saw Hermione huddled on the floor a few feet away from the door, as if she didn't have the will to walk any farther before she broke down.

She glanced at him and he saw tears running down her face endlessly. His throat constricted and he shifted awkwardly, not knowing what to do. She turned back and a small sob choked out of her, shaking her shoulders as she hid her face in her palms.

Draco closed the door softly and took a few steps towards her. He sank to his knees, placing the glove near her, and began to pat her back. She cried harder, and Draco couldn't bear to hear the sound of her cries. Her hands covered her eyes as her fingers reach into her hair. They curled viciously and Draco saw strands of hair rip out from her scalp as she cried. Draco sat beside her, pulled her close and firmly wrapped his arms around her. He could feel every tremor that went through her, every shiver that wracked her body. He felt her slowly move her arms around his waist as she clutched on to the fabric of his coat.

He rocked her gently in his embrace, and she choked out, "It was my father." Her voice trembled heavily as he rubbed her back gently. "I want him back. It's my fault he's dead. I want him back."

Draco didn't know what to say, so he continued to hold her until her cries lessened, until the vicious tears stop flowing down her cheeks, until her body stopped trembling and lay limp in his arms.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

In the Dungeons