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Yes, Master	By : Haydron Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 11713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or the characters associated with Harry Potter. No money has been made from this piece of fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter 6: Illuminating Thunderstorms

O

Harry and Ron had a plan. It was a foolish and risky plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. After they picked hair locks from unsuspecting muggles, they used the remaining stock of Polyjuice Potion, from their jaunt to the Ministry, to transform themselves into anonymous individuals.

"Why do I have to be the woman?" Ron grumbled, parting his waist long blonde hair in two, and peering out. "I'd much rather be the man."

"Does it matter?" Harry reached out and grabbed Ron's wrist. Interlacing fingers were a bit too much, even though they had to pretend they were a lovestruck couple.

"Yeah, it does. Do you know how hard it is to wear knickers?"

"Nobody said you had to steal them from a washing line, Ron."

"What?" The blonde woman grew defensive, snatching her wrist away from his grasp. "I was just getting into character!"

"Stop it," Harry hissed, noticing three deatheaters already paying them an unhealthy amount of attention. Ever since Voldemort took over the Ministry, he hadn't hesitated in sending guards to several magical locations including Hogsmeade, St Mungo's and Diagon Alley. Their presence reminded the day-to-day shoppers to keep in line, or risk being carted off to Azkaban as Muggleborn Sympathisers.

The Alley looked completely different from the year before. Several shops were boarded up, and the main ones that stayed open, had a dim procession of people trickling in. Harry's favourite store - Quality Quidditch Supplies - no longer housed brooms in it's window display.

"But I'm sticking to our agreement," Ron whispered back. "Make a scene so they arrest us."

"Time to ramp it up a gear." Harry noticed the three deatheaters had gone back to playing cards in front of The Leaky Cauldron, no longer suspicious. He raised his voice so it would carry over the cobblestones. "Where does all my money go, Charlotte? What man wants to come home from work, and find his wife wearing stolen knickers? The neighbours are all complaining! Don't you dare deny it, woman."

Ron turned beet red. "You're making the argument about this?"

"Seriously," Harry continued, embracing the role. "This has to stop. Your kleptomanic tendencies have become out of control. Mrs Cartwright came knocking at my door, claiming her lace undies were missing and you were the culprit."

"And you believed her?!" Ron yelled.

"Of course I did!"

Harry's face jerked to the side, as Ron slapped him. "How dare you call yourself my husband! Is she your bit on the side? Well, she's welcome to this fat, lardy mess who deserves a good wash-"

"Excuse me."

The dangerous voice of the person interrupting them, made Harry and Ron take stock of where they were performing and rapidly shut up. This wasn't the theatre of dramatic arts. Their arguing had destroyed the deathly peace, and brought the entire alley to a standstill.

"Have you crawled out from under a rock?" The deatheater asked, identity shrouded in secrets. "You don't just speak like that here. Both of you. The time of the Dark Lord is rising and death to all those who disobey."

"Sorry."

"Sorry, isn't going to cut it. Give me your papers!"

Ron made a show of patting down his robes, and raising his head to meet the eyes of the deatheater's tentatively. It looked like a feather had been caught in his eye, when he attempted to flutter his eyelashes. "Hehe, oops? It seems like I've left it at home."

The deatheater made a noise of disbelief.

"You?" He turned to Harry, whom answered the question with a shake of his head.

"Then," his voice sliced through the air. "You are invading marked territory without proper authorization. The only sentence that fit's the crime is life imprisonment at Azkaban, to repent for your sins."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks of reserved apprehension. They had managed to infiltrate the ranks of Azkaban, but at what cost? There was a slim possibility Hermione might not even be there, and taken somewhere else, which would take them back to square one.

Dark clouds rumbled, signalling the arrival of Lord Voldemort was imminent. Hermione was staring out of the window, as rain lashed against it. The man who she had come to uneasy truce with, was sitting in the armchair further back in the room, contemplating the shift in power that would occur when the Dark Lord arrived.

"I think he's here." Her voice sounded very hollow.

"How do you know?" Draco came to stand behind her, unintentionally close, in pretence of looking out the window. See, another side of him (Hermione thought.) His tone of voice indicated, he was feeling apprehension but it was second to being duty-bound. The hair on Hermione's nape stirred, as his hands slowly came out and brushed up her arms.

"What are you doing?"

"I regret it has to be you, mudblood, but a little contact is needed."

"Light-headed, already? Honestly Malfoy, you have no stomach."

She didn't push him away though, and that was a telling sign. Despite a few hiccups, Malfoy wasn't entirely unsalvageable. He had been forced down this path, and now thought it was too late to retrace his steps. That assumption was partly correct. After this war, whichever way it swung, Malfoy needed to be held accountable for his crimes.

So for all their sakes, it better be Harry!

"Look," Hermione said softly, "Train your eyes to see through the darkness. Just beyond the gate, there is a shadow darker than all the rest. It's him, I'm sure. He's checking the presence of all the wards, before he reveals himself, and his followers hurry to cloak their laziness."

"Hey!" Malfoy decided it was only right to take offence, on behalf of all the deatheaters.

"But it's true," she peered up at him, and his eyes dipped to her lips. "Ever since I've been captured, I've sensed almost a jovial wave of glee sweep around these halls. No-one has made any serious attempt to question me. They just want to inflict physical agony, as if they are prolonging my fate."

Draco shifted uncomfortably, as if he knew a secret piece of information he couldn't divulge. Hermione didn't dwell on it, and switched her attention back to dark shadow.

"Here, he comes."

Downstairs, the door opened with a bang and Bellatrix dipped low, waiting to greet him. Voldemort stood over the threshold, and he reached up slowly to remove his hood. Bellatrix was transfixed. Her master was framed against the blackened sky, cutting a lonely figure.

But in that solitude, there was strength. Voldemort closed his scarlet eyes, and flared the slits that represented his nose. It seemed like he was taking in a deep breath, and smelling the change that had befallen the Manor since he departed.

"Bella," there was a pleased note in his voice. "I hear there's been progress."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Tell me."

"Potter's closest ally and helper was captured this week, my Lord. We sensed Potter was close by, but was unable to track him, that slippery brat. As of yet, we have not questioned the bitch, like you instructed. But the mudblood scum has taken quite a beating," she smirked.

"Good," Voldemort's eyes rolled deep into his head. "I wanted to be present at the questioning that would yield Harry Potter. That boy has evaded my clutches for far too long, and Dumbledore isn't even here to protect him! I want this done by tonight."

"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix bowed again. "I'll get Draco to bring her."

She yelled out loud for a house-elf, and instructed it to relay the message. The house-elf nodded and apparated straight into Draco's room. For a painful second, the grip on Hermione's arm tightened, and she heard his throat furiously working as if holding back sobs. But it was a figment of her imagination, as Draco whispered in her ear: "It's time."

"Finally," Hermione said sarcastically.

"You've been looking forward to it?"

"Not really. I look forward to homework and reading books. But we're not speaking relatively, are we? Taking that aside, I'm rather open to a change of circumstances right now."

"Well, you're getting it."

Hermione coughed, and looked at the door, as if pointedly asking Draco to lead the way. Why wasn't she procrastinating? Draco wasn't particularly looking forward to meeting Voldemort, and they were on the same side! Sighing, Draco kept a firm grip on her arm as he walked to the door, and held it open for them both. Despite how pro-active she was inside the room, he noticed a definite reluctance as she climbed down each step.

"Come on," he jerked her down.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she muttered.

"Not quick enough," he jerked her again, until they were finally standing in front of the Parlour, about to go in. Hermione remembered the room vaguely from when Blaise had tried to grope her a few days ago. Back then, it was cold and vacant, but at least brightly lit.

Now, there was not even that. The fireplace had been extinguished, and the thundery atmosphere outside made the room grim, and dark, and gray. Hermione felt a chill creep up her spine, even behind Draco's shoulder. Voldemort was staring at her; excited and barely contained impatience on Lucius's favourite armchair.

Bellatrix was standing behind him, holding a vial.

"Veritaserum," she confirmed. "Draco, give this to that bitch. It might quench her thirst."

Draco turned to her, eyes dark.

"I don't want it," she pleaded. "Please don't make me drink it."

"I thought this was what you wanted," he growled, stretching out for the vial. "The set of circumstances that had befallen you to change? So why don't you open your fucking mouth, and do as your told."

"I can't willingly take it," Hermione said, scandalised. "That defeats the purpose of being a captive!"

"What is she rabbiting on about," Bellatrix glared. "Force feed the potion."

Draco, under the scrutiny of two seniors, was not planning to fail. He pinched Hermione's nose, and poured the entire vial down her gulping throat. He placed a hand under Hermione's jaw, and jammed it shut, not wanting her to spit it out, and ruin months of careful brewing.

Voldemort leaned forward in his chair.

"Place her in front of me. There's so much to ask."

Hermione, now under the influence of truth serum, was docilely lead to the spot in front of Voldemort's feet and forced to kneel. She didn't even flinch when Voldemort shoved his ugly head right in front of hers. He really was a strange creature, bald but serpent-like.

"What is your relation to Harry Potter?"

"I am his best friend."

"Are you the same mudblood, who was with Potter in Godric's Hollow at Christmas eve?"

"Yes."

Voldemort leaned back, a foul look in his eyes. He was clearly remembering the trouble Nagini had to go through, just to isolate Potter, and call for her master. It was also the place Harry had accidentally dropped the picture of Gellert Grindewald, and often got visions of Voldemort tracking the former Dark Wizard down in the nights before she got kidnapped. Hermione's eyes flickered. Had the mission been successful? It was hard to tell. The excitement Voldemort displayed, could be put down for a number of reasons.

"What has Potter been doing since he left Hogwarts?"

"He's turned into a fugitive. After Bill and Fleur's wedding was ransacked, he set up base in Grimmauld Place. After my stupid mistake, the house had to be abandoned, and we travelled from camping site to camping site."

"Doing what?"

"Searching."

"Be more specific, mudblood!"

"We don't know. It could be anything."

"Does Potter know about my…" Voldemort paused, as if he remembered there was two other people in the room, and shook his head. "Impossible. Potter wouldn't have gone that far. Nobody knows about them."

Hermione continued listlessly staring at him. Inside she was screaming and raging in hopelessness, knowing Voldemort was referring to Horcruxes, but grateful he wasn't asking the right questions for there to be a slip of the tongue. There was so many pitfalls with this scenario. Voldemort could ask if there was any other travel companions and she could reveal Ron's name. He could ask if Dumbledore had given them anything to win this fight, and cryptic answers about the Peverall brothers would flood out.

If she betrayed Harry, or any of his secrets, she would never forgive herself, even under duress.

"So the hundred galleon question," Voldemort licked his lips. "Where is Potter currently hiding?"

"Lake District," she replied.

"Right!" Voldemort barked, causing Bellatrix and Draco to jump. "Bellatrix summon Lucius, Severus and Wormtail and apparate to the Lake District. Draco, you're coming with me alongside that mudblood."

Draco grabbed her, face grim.

Hermione wanted to cry, but the serum was still having an effect. She followed them through the hallway, into the storm chopping and churning the clouds outside. It was the first time she had ventured into the great outdoors, after a few days, and she realised how much she yearned it despite the horrid weather.

Draco took hold of her wrist, and he in turn, was taken by the wrist by Voldemort.

Hermione didn't miss the visible shudder that ran through him.

They spun in darkness, and was spat out on the shores of the infamous Lake. Up north, the weather was more tranquil, and thankfully dry. The surface of the black lake rippled, but otherwise lay dormant. Voldemort pointed a wand in her face, and ordered her to whistle-blow Harry's location. Praying, Hermione hoped the boys had done the sensible thing, and moved on to avoid discovery.

Draco was following them quietly. He was still holding onto Hermione's wrist, and was shivering slightly, regardless of wearing the thickest cloak out of the three.

"Is this it?!"

Voldemort demanded, after Hermione came to a standstill after some gentle trekking. It was a good camping site, perfect to pitch up a tent, and there was even dead firewood that was slightly warm to the touch, but no inhabitants. "Potter's not here," he said, calm. Too calmly. "Where is he?"

"Realistically, far far away," Hermione said dreamily.

Behind them, the other deatheaters were catching up. Hermione's eyes widened, especially when she saw Snape, her potion's master up till fifth year. In a way, she mourned him. Snape was evil, and disrespected the trio constantly, but when he wasn't plotting Dumbledore's death, he was actually a fair and competent teacher. Snide remarks not included.

Draco had always been Snape's favourite pupil, but the greasy slime-ball had never purposefully doctored Hermione's grades, and always gave her a O. Clearly he recognised intelligence when he saw it. Snape saw Hermione, and faltered a little bit. But he soon caught up, until he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Bellatrix, Lucius and Wormtail.

Wormtail, the little rat, was avoiding her eyes and Lucius looked bored.

"Draco," Bellatrix hissed. "Come stand in line."

Her nephew still remained next to the mudblood, holding her wrist. Hermione felt oddly grateful, he hadn't abandoned her side and left her staring into Voldemort's pitiless soul alone.

"Avada K-"

"NO!"

Draco, not knowing why he did it, instinctively held out his hand. Automatically the weight of everyone's gazes fell on him, including Voldemort. He had just stopped the Dark Lord in the middle of a spell. In the middle of killing someone whom they were all supposed to hate. Already pressure was crowding him, forcing him to come up with an explainable justification.

But that was thing. Why had he stopped this murder?

He had killed mudbloods before, and if anyone dreamed of stopping him, then they too were slayed. Draco felt sweat dripping down his nose. This had to be a good answer.

"We can't kill the mudblood yet. She might be of use."

"Like what?" Bellatrix scorned.

"Like…Like…" Draco's mind searched in desperation. "She knows a great deal about Potter and the limited skill-set he is developing to overthrow the Dark Lord. If we pick her brain carefully, or even use her as bait-"

"Yes," Voldemort murmured. "The boy speaks sense."

Snape's eyes flickered from Draco to Hermione, and then closed, as if he was suitably grateful the situation was over. Draco slowly dropped his hand, and at the same time, let go of Hermione's wrist. He was trembling, inside and out, but kept his lower lip still. "What should I do now, my Lord?"

"Take the mudblood back to the manor. Tomorrow, Britain will be met with the most interesting headline."

Inwardly, Draco blinked several times.

"Right…uh…"

"That's your cue to go," Bellatrix hissed.

Draco gave her an irritated look, before grabbing hold of Hermione's sleeve, and apparating back to the Manor. He didn't let her go, until they were back in the bedroom and confronted the reality of Draco's intervention.

"I need to chain you up," he said, "I'm sorry, but I have too…"

"You're scared," Hermione spoke the truth, even though no longer compelled too. "You're scared of what happened back there."

"And what did just happen back there, huh?"

"You saved me."

"What?"

"You feel something for me. Maybe it's not downright appreciation, but you must acknowledge you don't want me to die, even though I would have happily embraced it!"

"Stop talking like that," Draco snapped. "Like you're some kind of fucking martyr, which by the way, does not wash in this household."

"So why don't you admit it?"

"There is nothing to admit - what are you doing?" Nervousness crept in Draco's voice as Hermione inched closer to him, certain she was reading all the signs. Draco wanted her, although he disguised it very well. Hermione couldn't pretend she wasn't the same, at least physically. All those numerous times he had saved her (all right, two - three, if counting the time he had traded Boudicca hairslides in auction to prevent Yaxley getting his hands on her) was having an affect. Despite still holding him in high disregard, the prospect of kissing him was becoming more and more appealing.

Hermione shook her head. This was probably slave mentality, but she also wanted to explore his penis.

Fisting a healthy handful of Draco's cloak, Hermione pulled him down, and snogged him passionately. The Slytherin was a little slow to react, but keenly opened his mouth and drew Hermione's tongue inside. It was like all rationality had been flicked off with a final switch.

He pushed his hardened cock into her stomach.

"Let's do this," he snarled.

O
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Yes, Master