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Knowing It All	By : Jennlee Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 11567 -:- 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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter 6 Danger and Safety
Hermione lay motionless for some time following the torture and assault by Lucius Malfoy. Finally, the cold and damp of the room surpassed the pain and shock that immobilized her and she was able to move. Retrieving her blanket, she crawled into the corner. Huddled against the wall, she rocked back and forth, crying softly to herself.
Some time later, the door creaked open. Her mind registered this but her body was unwilling to move. She was unable to even turn her head to see. Hermione fully expected Lucius Malfoy or one of his Death Eaters to be back tol hel her or rape her. She was too tired, in too much pain. She wouldn't beg for her life - wouldn't give them the satisfaction. She would just close off her mind and wait for the end, however and whenever it might come.
A hand touched her shoulder. It was like an electric shock went through her at this slightest touch. She jerked back from the intruding hand, squealing in fright and knocking her head sharply against the stone wall.
"Shhh!" A voice whispered urgently, a crouched figure in front of her. "I'm not going to hurt you, Granger."
Hermione looked up into the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Fear and revulsion again echoed through her. Lucius had said he would send Draco. Was he here to kill her? Would he rape her? She couldn't stand the thought of him touching her. She couldn't wrench her gaze from his eyes. Draco had his father's eyes - steely-blue and so cold. They froze her soul.
"Granger, Can you get up?" Draco whispered. "We need to hurry."
She was confused. Get up? Hurry where? What was Draco playing at? She scrutinized his face, trying to judge his intent.
"I'll carry you then," he said impatiently and he grabbed her, hauling her upright. Feeling his hands on her, she automatically struggled. They dropped back to the floor heavily, Hermione kicking against Draco. He released his grip and leaned over her without touching.
"Granger?" Hermione didn't answer. She turned her head and refused to even look at him. "Granger? Grang—Er, Hermione? Hermione, please, look at me." He took her chin in his hand and forced her. "Hermione. I'm going to get you out of here. I'm not going to hurt you. You have to help me because we don't have much time."
Hermione looked into his eyes. Those eyes didn't seem quite so frightening anymore. They weren't quite the same as Lucius' eyes, she noticed. There was something more behind them. Hermione could see Draco's eyes held fear and also something else. Was it compassion? She wondered.
Could this be true? Was he actually trying to help her? How could he? Where was Lucius? The other Death Eaters? Hermione wondered if she could believe him. She knew she couldn't bear it if her hopes were only to be dashed again. She fought against a tiny bit of hope that sparked and flickered inside her. For a few moments her mind battled with it. Would it be easier to give up? Would it be less painful to die than to go on? Denying hope was a futile effort for Hermione, however. That small spark of hope ignited into a flame and warmed her soul.
Hermione resolved that she would not give up yet. She had to go on. Shakily, she got to her feet, Draco steadying her. Weak and tired, she was barely able to support her own weight. Draco lifted her arm over his shoulder and helped her from the cell.
"Come on and be very quiet. My father's asleep but there are others who would raise the alarm." He helped her up the stairs. When they got to the top of the stairwell, Draco pulled a wand from his pocket. "Alohomora," he whispered. The lock clicked. Draco eased the door open quietly. They slipped through. He led her down a passageway. After those days in the small cell of gray stone, it seemed surreal to Hermione to be seeing floral papered walls and to be walking on thick carpets. She realized that they were probably at the Malfoy's manor home.
Draco steered her to the left and they entered a large room that looked like a kitchen. There was a huge hearth and fireplace filling one wall. A merry-looking fire cracked in the large grate, an empty cauldron hanging on a swing arm nearby. The center of the room was filled with a large, well-scrubbed oaken table. Draco sat Hermione down at the table, saying "Wait here," as he started searching through the items on a nearby shelf. Hermione looked around her blearily. She felt a little like she was outside of herself, observing from a distance.
She realized suddenly that she was incredibly thirsty. She hadn't eaten or drank anything in a while - she didn't know for how long. Recalling that bit of nasty water dripping through the stone, Hermione knew it had been hardly enough to sustain her. "Draco?" She asked quietly.
He shushed her quickly and whispered, "What is it?"
"Can I have some water?" She asked him. He looked surprised for a moment then nodded. She was surprised at herself. Here they were, in the Malfoy kitchen, making their escape under the noses of the Death Eaters and she was sitting calmly at a table asking for a drink of water. How strange, she thought dully.
Draco poured her some water from a pitcher on the table. She drank it gratefully, noticing that her hands were nearly black with grime and streaked with blood.
"I've found some Floo powder. We've got to go somewhere safe. Somewhere that the Death Eaters won't be able to find us. I had thought I would take you to the ministry—" He pursed his lips and looked closely at her. "But I think that might not be a good idea. There are spies in the ministry who are dangerous. I might not be believed right away - we would be vulnerable. It may not be safe. Obviously I can't take you home."
Hermione thought of her house, her parents lying lifeless on the floor, and shuddered. She didn't know if she would ever want to go home - to ever see that place where her parents' lives had so abruptly ended for no reason.
"Do you have any ideas where we should go?" Draco asked.
Hermione thought. The image that came into her mind immediately was The Burrow. She'd always felt safe at Ron's house. The Burrow with Ron and Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They'd know what to do. They'd help her—protect her. "The Burrow" she whispered, firmly.
"What's that?" Draco asked.
"Ron's house."
Draco didn't look happy about this but he nodded resolutely after a moment's thought. Pulling her to her feet before the large kitchen hearth, he threw some powder into the fire. The flame color changed and he whispered loudly, "The Burrow." Pulling Hermione into the fire, her wrapped his arms around her and in an instant they were sucked out of the Malfoy Manor.
They whirled through the Floo Network. Hermione hadn't had the opportunity to use Floo powder much, having grown up in a Muggle household. It always made her feel disoriented. She clung to Draco as they spun. She closed her eyes to the twirling views of Wizarding stops. Suddenly their trip ended. She and Draco spun out of the Weasley's kitchen fireplace and fell, gasping, on the floor.
"Oh, my heavens!" Hermione heard a voice cry out. She saw it came from Mrs. Weasley, who was standing by the stove in a housecoat and slippers. It must be nighttime, Hermione thought strangely. The time she'd spent in the windowless stone room had left her confused. She didn't even know what day it was.
Mrs. Weasley ran over to them and wrapped her arms around Hermione and helped her to her feet. For a long moment, Mrs. Weasley looked closely at Hermione's battered and bruised face. She could tell that Mrs. Weasley was taking note of her naked shoulders and the tattered and filthy blanket that was wrapped around her.
Mrs. Weasley had tears in her eyes and she looked as if she was trying not to look worried. "Everything's going to be all right." She said firmly, looking directly into Hermione's eyes. She hugged Hermione tight. Hermione tried not to flinch but the pain in her chest was too great under the pressure of the embrace. "Oh! I'm sorry." Mrs. Weasley let go her grip. The older woman looked around her, her expression indecisive for a moment.
Mrs. Weasley gently led Hermione to the kitchen table and sat her in a chair. Ron's mum must have been making tea when they arrived because she poured a cup of the steaming liquid, added sugar, and set it down in front of Hermione.
"Stay here, dear. I'll get Arthur. We'll try not to wake up the house - you don't need everyone crowding about just now. I'll have to run upstairs but I won't be a minute." She left the kitchen and Hermione could hear her on the stairs.
Hermione looked at the tea. It seemed incongruous. In barely a moment of time she had gone from running for her life to having tea. It was strange but right now Hermione couldn't think of anything she wanted more. Picking up the hot cup, she sipped the tea and it felt wonderful. Draco stood near the fireplace staring blankly, not moving from his spot. He looked like he was in a daze as well, not meeting her eyes. What was he thinking, she wondered. Why had he helped her? She started to feel warm and safe in the cozy kitchen of The Burrow. She trusted the Weasleys with her life.
Mrs. Weasley returned with Mr. Weasley who looked like must have put on his wizard robes in haste, as they were fastened crookedly. He hugged Hermione - lightly - Mrs. Weasley must have warned him about her sore ribs. "Dear child, its wonderful to see you. We've been so worried. Everything's been in an uproar. Your dear —" His voice trailed off and Hermione could see the sadness in his eyes. Mr. Weasley had known her parents. He was always asking them about Muggle things like television and underground tokens. He harrumphed into his hand and his voice strengthened a bit. "I'm going to get a mediwizard and someone from the Ministry." He ran his hand over his balding head. "Molly will help you upstairs so you can rest."
He noticed Draco standing in the corner. His voice registered surprise "Aren't you young Malfoy? Lucius Malfoy's son?" Draco nodded. He looked from Hermione's bruised face and nearly naked body to the blond boy. "What's going on here? If you've hurt her—" Mr. Weasley advanced menacingly on Draco.
"Please, Mr. Weasley, Draco helped me." Hermione stood up between Mr. Weasley and Draco. Her vision seemed a bit strange, she noticed, probably because her left eye was nearly swollen shut from one of the blows she'd received. A loud pounding sound filled her ears - her pulse, she realized. The Weasley's kitchen started to go all fuzzy around the edges. Mr. Weasley's arms caught her as she fell.
Hermione awoke in a warm, soft bed. It felt strange to feel comfortable. Opening her eyes, she cringed as a flash of pain shot through her. Her left eye was still swollen shut and sore. Through her good eye she could make out bright sunlight streaming in through the window. The room was warm and cheery, decorated merrily in pinks and greens. Flowers sat on the bedside table. Their scent was fresh and pretty - a contrast to the dank odor of her previous location.
Hermione recognized the small, pleasant room as Ginny's. Ginny had been kind enough to share it with her whenever she had stayed at The Burrow. Hermione wondered how long she had slept.
More pain surged through her as she moved. Her body still ached but at least she was warm and dry and safe. She tried to sit up and groaned as dizziness set in. Her muscles weren't cooperating. She fell back against the downy pillows. Breathing felt a little less painful now. She fingered her ribs gingerly. Her flesh was still bruised and tender and her muscles ached, but the ribs she had thought were broken no longer radiated pain with each breath.
For a little while Hermione lay still, enjoying the sound of birds chirping outside the window. It was so peaceful. Her surroundings seemed unreal after what she had endured at the hands of Lucius Malfoy. She hoped that this wasn't some kind of dream. She dreaded waking again in the cold, stone room.
The door clicked open. A wall of fear hit her. Suddenly in her mind Hermione was back in her dark cell, cringing in terror. "Hermione?" A woman's voice broke through the illusion of terror and Hermione's mind returned to her. Mrs. Weasley's head was poked through the doorway. "I'm so glad you're awake. May I come in, dear?" She asked. Hermione nodded.
Mrs. Weasley came in and sat down on the bed. She smiled cheerily but Hermione could detect underlying sadness - possibly pity - in her eyes. "How are you feeling? You gave us quite a fright."
"I hurt all over, not too bad though. But I'm ever so glad to be out of that place."
Mrs. Weasley patted Hermione's hand, which lay on top of the flowered coverlet. Hermione noticed that although her fingernails were broken and torn, her hand was no longer streaked black with grime. She stared at her hand, not wanting to look up and meet Mrs. Weasley's eyes.
"They came to the house—killed my Mum and Dad—" Hermione said haltingly. She started to cry.
"We know, dear." Mrs. Weasley took her hand and squeezed it gently. "When you didn't turn up, Ron and Arthur went to your house. They found them, dear. So awful. The poor dears. Terrible. At least you are returned to us. Your parents would be so pleased to know you are safe and alive." Hermione cried harder. "No matter what the Daily Prophet said, dear, we never gave up hope. Arthur has had the Ministry on high alert looking for you. The rest of us have been frantic."
Mrs. Weasley held her hand while she cried. Pressing a handkerchief into Hermione's hand, she said, "Cry, dear. With all you've been through you've certainly earned a good cry." Mrs. Weasley had tears in her own eyes, Hermione noticed.
There was a knock at the door. Hermione jumped, startled and suddenly afraid, her mind threatening to take her back to that hideous stone room. "Its all right, dear." Mrs. Weasley reassured her. "We've all been so worried about you. Its probably Ron or Harry. They've been asking to see you for ages. I wouldn't let them in while you were sleeping. Would you feel up to a visit?"
Hermione shook her head emphatically, looking down at her hands, unable to speak. She didn't want to see anyone, particularly Ron or Harry. She didn't want them to see her like this. She wondered what they knew. What had Malfoy told them? She felt suddenly shy and embarrassed. Did everyone know? Her stomach lurched at the possibility of her story being headlines in the Daily Prophet.
Mrs. Weasley went to the door. Hermione could hear her talking to someone in a low voice. Then the door closed and Mrs. Weasley returned to her bedside.
"It was Ron, dear. He's desperate to see you. He's been absolutely worried sick. Harry's been here since you went missing. They've been helping in the search."
Hermione sobbed into her hands. Her heart felt like it was breaking. She didn't know what she wanted - she wanted to see Ron but she also didn't want to see him. It was all so confusing, she thought. Mrs. Weasley tried to comfort her but it was no good - Hermione continued to sob uncontrollably. Turning, she, curled up on her side, and started to rock herself. Mrs. Weasley rubbed her back for a while and then left her alone.
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Knowing It All