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Porcelain Doll	By : emymsm Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 13215 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Author’s Note: Inexcusable, inexcusable! I am so very, very sorry this really overdue chapter and I humbly beg your pardon, dear readers! This has been sitting in my harddrive for months and frankly, I was unwilling to post this up because it’s a really short chapter - I got stuck halfway with the narrative.
Important note: The structure of this fic is not one of the chronologically inclined. Timelines get cut and jumbled and stapled back together. Think of this fic as one that can only be viewed in its wholeness only when it is finally complete (which would happen eventually, I hope!)
I provide you, my dear readers, with character-centric narrations to build the story. I hope that this style of writing encourages you to understand and perhaps on some level, to empathise with those caught in such situations.
Disclaimer: I do not assume any legal liability of the characters or settings here. All creative property belongs to JKR, excluding the plot to this fic. I seek no monetary gains and all recognisable claim of JKR is intended for entertainment use only and will be returned safe and sound.
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Porcelain Doll
Fastosus
(Pride)
He willed the coldness of his surroundings to seep through his cloak to touch his heart and harden it. With each step he took, following his master, Draco could feel the last vestiges of compassion wither away. He managed settled himself into this role of the subservient with such ease that it terrified him.
Should it not be harder? Should it not evoke some feeling of disgust or repulsion?
The truth was that this, all of it, was expected too often of him. Pureblood mentality had been drilled into the core of his being - and though he had managed to push aside the ridiculous prejudicial notions and broaden his mind as an individual for all those months with the Order - it was all too easy to let it rise to the surface again in a second, even though he tried to rationalise to himself that he was only using it as a shield, a necessary mask.
The Dark Lord glided across the uneven ground, and even with the thick soles of his shoes and long masterful strides, he moved in silence through the stone corridors. He drifted like an ominous black shroud of personified malevolence.
The torches in the brackets mounted on the walls sprang to life as Voldemort neared them, and then immediately went out after he strode past. This effect left only a circle of light wherever the two were. Ahead and behind of them, was darkness so complete that it threatened to smother the fringes of their lighted path.
‘I am infinitely pleased, Draco. Indeed, I admit I had doubts of your capabilities as a spy within the Order, as Severus seemed to have some trouble reinstating himself within their ranks and to prove his loyalty to them.’ Voldemort turned his head slightly to look down upon the blonde wizard, his red eyes glinting with approval.

‘But perhaps some degree of your success is also owed to your father... and to Trefor, of course. He is willing enough to serve as your messenger, isn’t he? How fortuitous to find another so willing to betray the Order, so willing to pass along crucial information when it seemed as if you cannot deliver them yourself.’
Draco felt his heartbeat stutter and the blood drain from his face. It was only his pureblood training, and the training his parents had pressed upon him when he was young; that a pureblood wizard may never show surprise, for that will be taken as a sign of unforgiveable weakness among the other Dark wizards – that kept him from stumbling.
He was careful to maintain the same rhythm in his strides, keeping just behind his Lord’s right shoulder. A mask of calm indifference smoothed his pale face. But inwardly, the young Malfoy’s thoughts were flying around in such a flurry of panic that his Occlumency shields had some trouble restraining them.
There had been another spy in the Order! One who has betrayed us! – his mind screamed over and over. He wrestled briefly with the shock and threw it against his Occlumency web, which immediately swallowed it. Who was it? Who was it that had betrayed Hermione to the Death Eaters? For this spy had seemed content to send only the witch into the Dark Lord’s clutches, and not reveal Severus’s or my own duplicity.
Is the spy collecting fodder to collect a favour later on?
Draco shuddered despite his training, and cast a quick nonverbal Warming Charm on himself, trying to dispel the edges of the sharp chill gripping him.
At last, they reached the end of the tunnel, and Draco drew up to his master’s shoulder. A solid stone wall blocked their way to the outside. The Dark wizard lifted his hand and with one unnaturally long finger, drew a series of runes onto the stone surface, murmuring softly to drop the magical wards placed there. A hole yawned on the wall, where the wizard had touched it. As Draco watched, the opening widened and stretched until it became large enough for them to step through it.
He bowed his head in deference and withdrew a step to the side so that the Dark Lord may step through first. Though he had kept his gaze trained to the ground, he could still feel the coldly approving glance of the dark wizard slid over him, before the tall wizard stepped through the opening.
The darkness of night outside was expelled by the acid green flames of an enchanted fire burning on a pyre at the centre of the clearing. Talking quietly in small gathered groups, were cloaked witches and wizards. When they caught sight of the Dark Lord however, they immediately fell silent and sank into deep bows and curtsies.
In the flickering flame light, Draco could see that the gathered Death Eaters tonight were dressed in their finest; tailored dress robes of extravagant material, exquisitely embroidered with the crests of old pureblood wizarding families, family heirlooms and gems glinting proudly at the base of their necks.

Draco’s gaze swept around the clearing and he at once saw that the Death Eaters were assembled according to their own internal social hierarchy. Those that were in the inner circle, the Dark Lord’s favoured servants, stood at the forefront. Within their richly garbed ranks, Draco caught the eye of Severus who drifted just behind Rabastan Lestrange. He felt a fierce stab of Legilimency, but it was unable to sear its way completely past Draco’s thick Occlumency barriers. The blonde wizard blinked, surprised at both the assault and the strength behind it.
Aware that others were watching him, Draco tried to be inconspicuous in his gestures and tilted his head questioningly to the side. He received in return a dark glare with such intense malevolence that it unsettled him. He forced his gaze away from the feral expression on Severus’ countenance, to glance cursory at the faces of the Death Eaters.
Beyond the more influential members of Voldemort’s followers were witches and wizards, some were purebloods too, but lacking the power of calling themselves Old Bloods. They were those whose family name had fallen out of wizarding prominence and influence. Others were assigned to this rank for somewhere along the line had accepted a witch or wizard or less than pure wizard ancestry.
And then standing beyond them where outcasts of even the Dark Lord’s supporters; the dredges of wizarding society, the drones; the disfavoured and the scorned. Their presences were only tolerated because they were necessary to perform the less than tasteful tasks. They were the ones to get their hands and wands dirty first.
Mingling amongst these drones were the werewolf packs, assigned to this group only because they were no longer of pure wizarding blood. They were warily treated with grudging respect; an insult or careless comment to a single werewolf would bring the protective anger of the entire pack.
Draco felt his lips curling in distaste when he spied Peter Pettigrew in the group. He gave Draco a feeble wave, blinking his watery eyes rapidly. He dropped his hand quickly and flushed, before shuffling to duck behind Fenrir Greyback.
Draco slid into place between his parents. His mother reached out to touch her trembling hand on his left shoulder, and Draco titled his head to glance at her drawn white face from the corner of his eyes. He bowed his head and brushed his fingers briefly across her knuckles, trying to assure her; I am fine, Mother. She gave him quick squeeze, her fingers clutching convulsively, protectively - before she dropped her hand to her side. He straightened his posture immediately and hid his emotions under a stoic expression, sensing at his side, his mother doing the same.
‘My loyal servants...’ The Dark Lord’s sibilant hiss was hardly above a whisper, yet it carried across the wide space, weighing with dangerous delight.
The Dark Lord swept to the only seat in the clearing; a dark throne-like structure carved of black stone, detailed with tracings of intertwining snakes inlaid in silver. He folded himself gracefully into the seat, and rested one elbow on the armrest, bringing up his hand to stroke his thin lips.
‘My loyal servants, tonight be proud, feel the first taste of triumph, for in our clutches we have a treasure, one held so dear in the hearts of our enemies. Congratulate your own, my Death Eaters,
congratulate Severus and Draco; for without them, Hermione Granger, Potter’s Mudblood friend would be sleeping in her little room at Grimmauld.’
There was a muttering of surprise and an exclamation or two, before the hesitant smattering of applause started.
A hand descended on Draco’s other shoulder and gripped him tightly. He turned to look up at his father, who was smiling... no, smirking proudly. There was a glint of fierce pride in his sharp grey eyes, and for a moment, the younger Malfoy felt a stab of... an undeterminable feeling twisting his gut.
‘Well done, my son.’
And it was agony to stand there and listen to those words; to realise what it really took to wrestle those words from thin lips, what Draco must do, to earn the approval of Lucius Malfoy.
‘Of course, father,’ he replied coolly, ignoring prickling on the back of his neck from Severus’s blazing glare.
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To be continued...
Lux – Thank you very much for your review. I means a lot to me when my readers tell me that they managed to connect to the characters like that.
Sampdoria – Severus did turn out to be quite the hero in book 7, didn’t he? You guessed correctly. I was so upset he died though. :( Thanks for your long and delightful review!
sickforseverus – I can’t reveal that yet. Thanks for reading!
DB1 – Thanks
PinkTribeChick – sorry for being so late! Thanks for sticking on with me.
luna – Please do point out the spelling errors if you find any! Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback – I am so very flattered. :)
Megan – my dear faithful reader! Thank you so much for your reviews.
Melissa Flint – Thank you! Glad you like the manipulations too. Hopefully you won’t have to wait too long for the next chapter.
- 4
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Porcelain Doll