That’s more like it.
Hermione (age 16)
The once comforting familiarity of the dark hallway now felt oppressive as Hermione limped forward, each step a jarring reminder of the assault’s toll on her body. The darkness pressed in, thick and suffocating. Her legs quivered, threatening to give way beneath her, mirroring the exhaustion that had seeped into her very core.
Yet, even as her body faltered, her heart beat with a desperate urgency. She needed him. With a final surge of willpower, she reached the familiar archway. He stood there, swallowed by the gloom. His face, normally a mask of stoic composure, was ravaged with grief, his shoulders slumped in defeat. The sight pierced her heart like a shard of ice.
Without a word, she stumbled into his waiting embrace, her legs finally giving way. He held her close, his own body trembling with barely contained emotion. Her sobs echoed through the silent room, a raw outpouring of fear, loss, and a desperate need for comfort. In the darkness, they clung to each other, two shattered souls finding a fragile comfort amidst the ruins.
They both collapsed to the ground in silence.
Time seemed to blur as she wept, her body wracked with the aftermath of terror. Draco said nothing, his presence a silent promise of protection. He cradled her against his chest, swaying gently back and forth as if lulling a child to sleep.
Finally, his voice broke the silence, thick with emotion. "I am so sorry, sunshine." He swallowed hard, his words punctuated by the tremor in his voice. "He'll never hurt you again."
The rhythmic rocking continued. Then, in a surprising turn, he began to sing softly. His voice, though rough and untrained, was filled with such warmth and sincerity that it wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray.... "
The familiar melody washed over her, its simple beauty a stark contrast to the horrors she'd endured. Her sobs subsided, replaced by a shuddering breath as her body began to relax against his.
A watery smile touched her lips. "You have a terrible singing voice," she teased, her voice still thick with tears.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into hers. "You never know dear how much I love you...."
Her grip tightened around him. "Please don't stop," she whispered.
"Please don't take my sunshine away," he finished, his warm cheek pressing against hers. In that moment, amidst the ruins and despair, a flicker of hope ignited. She was broken, but with him, perhaps she could find a way to heal.
****
Her eyelids fluttered open. She squinted against the morning light pouring through her window. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she recognized the familiar contours of her room – the faded floral wallpaper, the overflowing bookshelf, the plush armchair nestled in the corner. The cheerful chirping of birds drifted through the open window, a gentle reminder of the world awakening outside.
Her gaze drifted downward, taking in the soft flannel pajamas that encased her, a comforting warmth against her skin. At her feet, a small ball of red fur stirred. Ruby. A wave of affection washed over her, and she reached down to stroke the fox’s soft head.
A soft rustling sound caught her attention. She turned her head, squinting against the sunlight streaming through the window. There, in the armchair, sat a figure absorbed in a book. The pages turned with a quiet whisper, the only sound in the otherwise peaceful room. She pushed herself up onto her elbows.
Her voice cracked as she uttered his name. "Arys?" The word barely escaped her parched throat, raw from screaming.
Arys's head snapped up, his book tumbling to the floor. In an instant, he was at her side, his warm hand enveloping hers. "Hermione!" Relief and concern warred in his voice.
"What happened?" She shook her head, wincing at the sharp pain that lanced through her temples.
"Well... you were... attacked..." His words barely registered as she tried to dispel the fog that clouded her mind.
"No... No, I know that..." Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she reached blindly for the water glass on her bedside table.
"How did I get here?" she managed to ask, her hand closing around the cool glass.
He gently took the glass from her and tilted it towards her lips, allowing her to take a small sip.
"Draco brought you here after," he explained, his voice laced with a mixture of sadness and anger. "You've been asleep for three days now."
"Oh," she murmured, the weight of the past few days crashing down on her.
His gaze locked with hers, his grip on her hand tightening with a silent three squeezes. Deep, bruise-like shadows marred the skin beneath his eyes, and his complexion was startling, as if he hadn't seen sunlight in days. His brow furrowed, his mouth drawn into a grim line. He looked utterly exhausted, haunted by a darkness that seemed to seep from his very pores.
A wave of warmth flowed from his hand into hers, and the sudden panic in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. She knew that look. Arys's eyes glazed over, his focus turning inward as a vivid scene unfolded within her mind.
She saw Draco, his face contorted in a mask of fury, carrying her limp body through the ravaged corridor. His clothes were splattered with blood, Greyback's blood. The image mirrored the fragments of memory that haunted her own nightmares, reminding her of the brutality she'd narrowly escaped.
With a gasp, Arys tore his hand away, his face pale and etched with shock. It had happened again. The unintended connection between them, a cruel twist of fate, had forced him to share the burden of his visions, his trauma bleeding into her consciousness.
"Oh, Arys," she breathed, her heart aching for the tormented boy before her. He was a shell of his former self, consumed by fear and guilt. "I am fine, I promise," she reassured him, squeezing his hand gently. "When was the last time you slept?"
Her question hung in the air, unanswered. She knew the answer, though. Sleep had become a stranger to him, stolen by the relentless onslaught of visions that plagued him daily. With a sigh, she pulled back the covers, inviting him to share her bed. He didn't hesitate, curling up beside her with a grateful sigh. Within moments, the steady rhythm of his snores filled the room, a bittersweet symphony of exhaustion and relief.
****
Days blurred together as Hermione remained confined to her bed, a prisoner of her own exhaustion and fear. Food lost its appeal, sleep offered only fleeting respite from the nightmares of the piercing dark eyes that relentlessly pursued her. Arys remained a steadfast presence, his warmth a comforting counterpoint to the icy dread that clung to her. But even his companionship couldn't fully dispel the shadows that lingered in her mind.
One morning, she awoke to find Arys absent, replaced by a silhouette framed against the window, its presence sending a jolt of alarm through her. She bolted upright, the covers clutched tightly to her chest.
"Relax, Granger," a low voice commanded, cutting through the silence.
Draco stood before her, clad in his chilling Death Eater uniform, his silver mask dangling idly at his side. The sight of him, a brutal reminder of the darkness she'd barely escaped, sent a shiver down her spine.
"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" She stammered, her voice betraying her unease.
He turned, his metallic gaze sweeping over her, lingering for a moment too long. She instinctively pulled the covers higher, a blush warming her cheeks.
"Once you have recovered, you will be starting training," he declared.
"Training?" she echoed, confusion mingling with a flicker of defiance.
"Yes, training," he repeated, his voice laced with impatience. "Did I stammer? Defensive training, and dueling. I'm assuming you'll need basic magical instruction as well, if you haven't improved since the last time I saw you attempting to levitate a measly apple." A sneer curled his lip, the familiar arrogance returning.
She bristled at the insult, her magical abilities had grown considerably. But she held her tongue.
"I don't understand," she said cautiously, her voice tight.
"I will not have you roaming these halls defenseless," He stated coldly, his gaze fixed on the window. "Not with so many questionable individuals coming and going from the Manor."
His words hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked beyond her bedroom walls. The war had cast long shadows, and even within the supposed safety of Malfoy Manor, she was far from secure.
Her gaze remained fixed on him, a whirlpool of confusion and conflicting emotions swirling within her. Her mind raced, questioning his motives for the thousandth time. Why would he, a Death Eater, a man seemingly devoid of empathy, care about her well-being? A flicker of warmth briefly softened her expression, a tug at her heartstrings that she couldn't ignore. It was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile the Draco she'd come to cherish in her dreams, the one capable of tenderness and vulnerability, with the cold, calculating figure that stood before her now.
His next words shattered the fragile hope that had bloomed within her. "Oh, don't get sentimental about it," he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. Her heart cracked, the pain radiating through her chest. "I'd do the same for my hounds if they were as pathetic at self-defense as you have proven to be. I'd do it for anything that belongs to me. I don't want my things damaged or broken... unless it's by me," he added.
Biting back the tears that threatened to spill, she averted her gaze, unable to bear the sight of his cold indifference. The chasm between the Draco of her dreams and the reality before her yawned wider than ever.
Without another word, he turned and strode from the room, his black robes billowing behind him like shadows. The door clicked shut, leaving her alone with the crushing weight of his words and the haunting realization that, in this world, she was nothing more than a possession to be protected, not for her own sake, but for his.
****
The knock on her door came earlier than she had anticipated. Just three days after their unsettling encounter, Draco appeared as the first rays of dawn painted the sky. Gone were the chilling Death Eater robes, replaced by fighting leathers that hinted at his agility and strength. His wand, though secured in its holster, emanated a quiet power that was impossible to ignore.
"Put these on," he commanded, tossing a bundle of heavy fabric onto her bed.
She grabbed the clothes, her brow furrowing. She knew Draco had surpassed the Hogwarts professors in skill long ago, dropping out of school to serve Voldemort. The thought of him, a Death Eater with a reputation for ruthlessness, taking the time to train her personally was both baffling and exhilarating. A flicker of excitement danced within her, tempered by a lingering apprehension. She was far from thrilled about her teacher, but the prospect of learning to defend herself, of finally taking control of her own fate, was undeniably empowering.
She began to shed her nightgown, then paused, her eyes narrowing as she met his gaze. He lingered in the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression.
"Can you please give me some privacy?" she asked, her voice firm.
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Fine," he huffed, turning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway.
She let out a relieved sigh, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She quickly changed into the training attire. As she secured the final buckle, a newfound determination surged through her.
The determination evaporated as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. The fighting leathers clung to her body like a second skin, mercilessly highlighting every curve and contour. A blush heated her cheeks as she realized Draco had grossly misjudged her size.
The snug fit left little to the imagination, accentuating her figure in a way that made her acutely self-conscious. She tugged at the edges of the tunic, wishing she could disappear into its unforgiving embrace. The leggings, equally tight, showcased the length of her legs, making her feel exposed and vulnerable.
A wave of frustration washed over her.
Her resolve wavered, replaced by a familiar sense of insecurity. She felt like a child playing dress-up, ill-equipped to face the dangers that awaited her.
With a sigh, she turned away from the mirror, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. She couldn't let Draco's oversight derail her. She would prove him wrong, master the skills he taught her, and become the warrior she needed to be.
With a deep breath, she cracked open the door, summoning a facade of confidence despite the constricting leathers. As she stepped into the hallway, Draco's eyes raked over her from head to toe, his gaze lingering on her curves with an intensity that made her bristle. When his eyes finally met hers, a smirk played on his lips, and she fought the urge to wipe it off with a swift backhand. Crossing her arms defensively, she glared at him, hoping her expression conveyed her desire to hex him into oblivion.
"What took you so long?" he drawled, his grin widening. "Were you perhaps... thinking of me again?" His eyebrow arched suggestively, a challenge in his eyes.
Her jaw dropped, a mixture of shock and indignation flooding her. His blatant flirtation, so at odds with his usual coldness, caught her off guard. Heat crept up her neck, staining her cheeks a vibrant crimson.
He sauntered past her, a predatory confidence in his stride. He led her through the winding corridors, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the manor. Finally, they reached a massive door she hadn't noticed before. It swung open, revealing a vast training room bathed in the golden glow of the morning sun. High, narrow windows stretched from floor to ceiling, illuminating the worn stone walls and the polished wooden floor, etched with the scars of countless spells. Life-sized training dummies, riddled with scorch marks, stood sentinel in one corner, while sturdy tables laden with vials and cauldrons occupied another. The air hummed with latent magical energy, and the scent of herbs and exotic ingredients hung heavy in the air.
Draco turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back. He circled her slowly, his eyes assessing her like a predator sizing up its prey. His proximity was unsettling. She hadn't been this close to him since they were children, save for their recent harrowing encounter with Greyback. Now, she could discern his scent more clearly than ever—a blend of citrus, mint, and an elusive floral note that teased her senses. She fought the urge to inhale deeply.
"First of all," Draco began, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation, "you have no muscle. Can you even throw a proper punch?"
She shrugged, her eyes rolling skyward in a silent display of defiance.
"Well, let's see it then... hit me."
She studied him, gauging his sincerity. Beneath the fitted leather, his muscles rippled with barely contained power. He towered over her, a solid wall of confidence, his stance unwavering.
Deciding on a swift attack, hoping to exploit any potential lapse in his defenses, she lunged forward. But he deflected her blow with an almost effortless ease, a humiliating reminder of the gulf between their abilities. In a blur of movement, he spun her around, her back colliding with the unforgiving stone wall. His body pressed against hers, pinning her in place. A gasp escaped her lips, the sensation of being overpowered triggering a cascade of unwanted memories.
She felt him probe the edges of her mind, his voice a low command. "Use your magic, push me away."
She tried to focus, to summon her magic, but the room seemed to constrict around her, the shadows deepening. Her breath hitched in her chest, each inhale a struggle. Draco's face blurred, replaced by the haunting image of Greyback's leering grin, his dark eyes burning into her. A wave of terror washed over her, extinguishing her magic like a snuffed candle. The only sound she could hear was the frantic rhythm of her own heartbeat.
"Granger?" Draco's voice echoed from a distance, a desperate plea cutting through the haze. "Granger, snap out of it!"
Reality slipped further away, replaced by a suffocating sense of falling, of being consumed by darkness. Nausea churned in her stomach.
"Granger..." His voice grew louder, more insistent. "Granger!! He's not here! You're safe!"
Slowly, the panic receded. Her breathing steadied and her vision cleared. Draco's face swam into focus, his silver eyes filled with concern. He had released her, his body now a safe distance away. She stared at him, her chest heaving, the remnants of terror clinging to her like grime.
"Where'd you go?" His voice was surprisingly gentle, laced with curiosity.
She didn't answer. She pushed past him, stumbling towards the nearest window. Flinging it open, she leaned out, gasping for air as if she'd been drowning. The cool morning breeze caressed her face, but the image of Greyback's eyes lingered in her mind.
“Sod off, Malfoy.”
Suddenly, she felt his strong hands on her shoulders, spinning her around to face him. His signet ring pressed into her skin. His gaze was intense, his silver eyes boring into hers.
"When you're scared or nervous, you completely shut down," his voice was firm, laced with a hint of frustration. "You need to master how to overcome that fear and use your magic during times of duress. When I met you in the Maze, you were terrified, but there were flames beginning to form at your fingertips."
He remembered that? She thought, surprised. But instead of responding, she merely scowled, her defenses rising.
"What were you thinking about then? In the maze?" he pressed, his voice softer now, almost curious.
"Arys," she replied, the name slipping out before she could stop it.
"Hmm..." Draco mused, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, his grip on her shoulders tightening. Then, abruptly, he hissed in pain, clutching his forearm. Her eyes widened as she saw his Dark Mark writhe and pulse beneath his skin.
"I am being summoned," he said through gritted teeth. "Continue practicing in my absence."
"How do I do that?" She asked, her curiosity momentarily overriding her apprehension.
"I want you to strengthen your body," He instructed, his tone clipped. "Running, push-ups, sit-ups, squats." He spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"How do I do those?" She blinked, genuinely confused.
Draco's eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed in exasperation. He seemed to struggle with the concept of explaining something he considered so trivial.
With a sigh, he dropped to the floor and began demonstrating the exercises, his movements fluid and powerful. His muscles flexed with each push-up and sit-up. She tried not to stare, but the sight of him in motion was mesmerizing. She internally scolded herself for the inappropriate thoughts that flitted through her mind.
"Okay, I think I've got it," she said finally, her voice slightly breathless.
He nodded curtly and left without another word. As soon as the door closed behind him, she dropped to the floor, mimicking his movements with determination. She quickly discovered that the exercises were far more challenging than they appeared. Her muscles burned, her lungs ached, but she pushed through the discomfort, driven by a newfound resolve. She would not be weak. She would not be a victim. She would become strong enough to protect herself and those she cared about.
***
For the next few weeks, Draco remained absent from her training sessions, leaving her to navigate the rigorous exercises and endless laps alone. However, her determination remained unwavering. During the day, she tirelessly practiced the exercises, and ran laps around the manor. Draco would occasionally materialize, offering fleeting glances of supervision before vanishing again.
The nights brought a different challenge. Under the cover of darkness, she and Arys delved into the intricate world of Occlumency. Guided by ancient texts, they sought to fortify their minds, though Arys, naturally gifted, couldn't fully articulate the process.
One evening, she stumbled upon Arys in their secret sanctuary, the hidden lounge nestled within the grand ballroom. Ruby curled contentedly in his lap as he immersed himself in a book. When she entered the room, he quickly shoved the book beneath a pillow, a flicker of guilt crossing his features.
She approached Arys, feigning interest in petting Ruby, then began tickling him. Arys laughed and pleaded for mercy. "What are you hiding from me?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "How dare you keep secrets, especially books!" She deftly retrieved the book from its hiding place.
"Twin Shadows: A Guide to Dark Sorcery," she read aloud, her tone tinged with curiosity. "What mischief are you brewing, Arys?"
He merely shrugged, offering no explanation. She returned the book, her gaze falling upon another one resting on the table.
"I can't believe you still read this!" she exclaimed, gesturing towards the Animagus book she had gifted him years ago. "Surely you've committed it to memory by now."
A playful smirk curved his lips. "Not quite," he admitted.
They resumed their Occlumency practice, losing themselves in the mental labyrinth until exhaustion took over. In dire need of a break, they settled into a comfortable silence, their bodies nestled together on the sofa, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, two figures absorbed in their respective books.
Suddenly, Hermione's voice pierced the quiet. "Look at this!" she exclaimed, her excitement palpable. "It's a spell designed to repel even the most powerful Legilimens from entering your mind without permission!"
Arys, without lifting his gaze from his book, simply murmured, "Better bookmark that one."
“Bollocks, it looks like I would need Draco’s blood for it to work.”
“I have some of his blood.” Arys responded nonchalantly.
“Why do you have Draco’s blood?” She said with a lift of her brow.
He shrugged but didn’t respond.
Hermione and Arys exchanged a silent farewell, a routine that had become increasingly frequent of late, as they made their way to their own rooms. With a heavy heart, she continued her solitary journey down the dimly lit hallway towards her corridor. As she passed the hall leading to Draco's chambers, she instinctively slowed her pace. The telltale sounds of a woman's laughter, mingling with Draco's deeper tones, drifted through the open door, echoing down the hall. A pang of jealousy pierced her heart.
Hermione paused, her gaze fixated on the doorway. A blonde woman, her face alight with a radiant smile, emerged from the room, waving a final goodbye before gently closing the door. As the woman turned, her eyes met Hermione's. The woman quickly averted her gaze and hurried away in the opposite direction.
Hermione watched her retreat, a scowl marring her features. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to suppress the rising tide of emotions within her. A knot of anger and hurt twisted in her stomach, threatening to overwhelm her.
****
Draco stood poised before her, wand outstretched, the epitome of composure in his fighting stance. His gaze remained steady, his focus unwavering.
Hermione, on the other hand, trembled, her raised hand shaking with exhaustion. The training room swam before her eyes, blurred by the sweat that trickled down her face. She struggled to concentrate, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Expeliamus!” she shouted, her voice strained.
Draco effortlessly sidestepped the spell, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re weak!” he taunted, his voice echoing through the room. “Again!”
“Stupefy!” she attempted, but he blocked it with ease, rolling his eyes in frustration. “I know you have more than that! Fight me!” he demanded, his tone laced with impatience.
The truth was, ever since Greyback's brutal assault, her confidence in her magical abilities had been shattered. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, a wave of self-loathing washing over her. She had never felt so powerless, so inadequate.
“Confundo,” she muttered, barely summoning the energy to cast the spell.
Draco's frustration reached its peak. He threw his head back and shouted, his voice booming through the high ceilings of the training room. “Dobby!”
In an instant, Dobby materialized, bowing low. “Yes, master?”
“Go and fetch my brother.”
She looked at Draco in bewilderment. What was he planning?
A minute later, Dobby reappeared with Arys in tow.
“Hello, Arys,” Draco greeted him, his tone surprisingly polite. “I hope we haven’t interrupted your evening.”
Arys raised an eyebrow, taken aback by Draco's uncharacteristic sweetness. “Of course not! I’m always happy to spend time with you both,” he replied, a hopeful note in his voice. “How can I help?”
“I do apologize for this in advance, brother,” Draco said, his expression turning serious.
Arys's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he studied his brother, a sense of unease seeming to settle over him.
“CRUCIO!”
In a horrifying instant, Arys was hurled to the ground, his body contorting and gasping under the relentless onslaught of Draco's spell. He writhed in agony, his screams echoing through the chamber as if he were being consumed by flames.
Hermione's own screams tore from her throat, a primal sound of terror and disbelief. Her eyes darted between Arys's tormented form and Draco's impassive face, her mind reeling, struggling to comprehend the unfolding nightmare. Draco's expression remained cold, his resolve unwavering as he intensified the spell's power, seemingly oblivious to Arys's agonizing cries. She had never witnessed such cruelty, such unadulterated suffering.
The room around her began to dissolve, the boundaries of reality blurring as a crimson haze descended upon her vision. The ancient walls of the training room trembled, the very air warping and twisting under the weight of a tremendous, unseen force. Objects levitated, suspended in mid-air as waves of raw, untamed energy surged through the room. Her screams intensified, resonating with a cosmic power, a symphony of pain and unbridled rage. Sparks of fire danced at her fingertips, and she caught a glimpse of Draco rushing towards her, his face contorted in fear. He was shouting something, but his words were drowned out by the deafening roar in her head.
Slowly, she turned her gaze upon him, her eyes ablaze with an otherworldly energy. Draco halted mid-stride, frozen in place as if an invisible hand had seized him. With a guttural cry, she unleashed her fury, flinging him across the room with a blast. His body slammed against the stone wall with a sickening crack.
Arys's whimper pierced through the chaos, shattering her trance. The sparks at her fingertips extinguished as she rushed to his side, cradling his limp form in her arms. Tears streamed down her face as she frantically searched for any sign of injury, brushing the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. Gazing down at his pale, beautiful face, she felt the embers of rage reignite within her, burning hotter than ever before.
Footsteps echoed in the sudden silence, and she spun around to see Draco standing a few yards away, his eyes wide with a strange mix of awe and bewilderment.
“That’s more like it.” he said approvingly, blood dripping from his broken nose. A slow smile crept onto his face, his teeth stained bright red with blood.
****
That night, she joined Arys in his room for dinner. She fussed over him. She even attempted to spoon-feed him a few times, but he gently brushed her away with a chuckle, assuring her that he was perfectly fine. Relieved, she snuggled close to him, savoring his warmth and presence.
As the night wore on, he drifted off to sleep, his breathing slow and steady. She remained by his side, her love for him overflowing. She watched him sleep for over an hour, her gaze tracing the contours of his face, her heart filled with a tenderness she had never known before. In that moment, she realized that she had never loved anyone as deeply as she loved Arys.
Finally, with a lingering look at her sleeping friend, she reluctantly rose and returned to her own room, the image of his peaceful face imprinted on her mind.
*****
Several hours later, she was startled awake by a frantic Draco. He loomed over her, his eyes gleaming with a wild intensity that sent a shiver of unease down her spine.
“Time to see how those Occlumency lessons with Arys have been going.”
He was on top of her before she could think twice. He held her hands above her head and impaled her mind before she had the chance to brace herself.
He started sifting through her private memories. The usual warmth and euphoria she experienced when their magic intertwined were chillingly absent. Panic rising, she fought back with every ounce of strength she could muster - thrashing against him, bucking her hips, even attempting a desperate headbutt.
Unbidden, a torrent of memories started flashing behind her eyelids.
“Get out!!!!” she screamed internally. She kicked, she bit, her body a vessel of pure, primal resistance. But nothing seemed to deter him.
Memories of her crying alone in the garden, lost and overwhelmed. Her memories of the maze, her fear and confusion. Her lonely days at the orphanage, the hollow ache in her heart.
“Withhold your memories from me,” he instructed coldly.
“Fuck you, Malfoy!! I HATE YOU!”
He dissected her memories of Greyback and she recoiled at his perusal. She felt like she was there again, those dark animalistic eyes staring down at her on the desk.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks now and she greeted her teeth. The metallic taste of blood filling her mouth from biting her tongue.
“Hold them back! Push me out!” He screamed into her mind.
Her blood started to boil beneath her skin. How dare he violate her so thoroughly without a second thought. The memory of how he'd hurt Arys, the cruelty in his actions, flashed through her mind. A surge of anger fueled her, and with a fierce determination, she tore her memories from his grasp.
“Good.” His voice reverberated through her mind. “Good girl.”
A desperate plan ignited within her. Mustering the last bits of her strength, she reached deep into the recesses of her mind, retrieving a specific memory. Without hesitation, with every ounce of her will, she propelled the memory toward him like a knife.
She watched as his face went completely slack.
It was a memory of her in the bathtub. The water sloshed against her smooth, sensitive skin. Her nipples hardened as they peaked through the water’s surface, her face a mask of pleasure as she slowly slid her hand between her legs. Her back arched as she writhed against her own fingers, whispering his name.
As the final echoes of the memory faded, she felt the psychic link between them sever with a jarring snap. Opening her eyes, she found him staring down at her, his pupils dilated, his mouth agape, and his chest heaving with rapid breaths.
Fury surged through her, and she lashed out, aiming a slap at his face. But he caught her hand with effortless speed, imprisoning it at her side.
His gaze flickered between her eyes. She struggled to read the expression on his face, a complex blend of shock, confusion, and something else she couldn't quite name.
“Why would you show me that?” He breathed.
She glared at him defiantly. The power dynamic had shifted, and for a fleeting moment, she reveled in her newfound control.
An unspoken tension crackled between them, the air thick with anger, confusion, and raw vulnerability. The silence stretched as they locked gazes, each searching for answers in the other's eyes.
A silent struggle played across his features as he held her gaze, a war waging within him. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, now flickered with a vulnerability she'd never witnessed before. The intensity of the moment stole her breath.
After a moment's hesitation, his lips crashed into hers. They were soft but hard. Before she knew what was happening, she was kissing him back. He growled as her lips moved against his and his grip on her arms tightened. He tasted like mint.
This kiss was slow at first, before becoming frantic, feral.
He pressed his body into her and she wrapped her legs around him in response. He seemed to lose control completely. She felt the proof of his arousal grinding into her center and she moaned in response, returning the movement. He hissed as he pressed against her until suddenly the spell was broken.
With a suddenness that made her flinch, he leapt off her, scrambling away until his back hit the wall with a thud. His face was pale, his eyes wide with horror. Both of them gasped for air, their chests heaving as they tried to make sense of what just happened.
The raw regret etched on his face was like a slap to the face. Of course he was repulsed by her. Biting back the sting of tears, she watched him flee the room, leaving her alone with the echoing silence and the crushing weight of his rejection.
****
Hours later, she lay awake in bed, her mind still reeling from her encounter with Draco. She stared at her green silk nightgown, its strap torn during their struggle.
Suddenly, her door flew open with a resounding crash. "Hermione!!"
Arys, dressed in pajamas and clutching his illuminated wand, rushed towards her.
"Arys? What's happening? Are you alright?" She threw back her sheets and met him in the center of the room.
"The Dark Lord will summon you soon," Arys panted. "He intends to probe your memories. Draco's loyalty is under scrutiny."
"What?!" She gasped.
His hands cupped her face. "You'll be called shortly. You must bury all memories of me. Anything suggesting Draco is anything but a devoted follower of the Dark Lord must be concealed."
"Why?! Arys, tell me what you've seen," she pleaded, her hands covering his on her face.
"Please, just trust me," he begged, his eyes filled with desperation.
"Arys, I don't think I can withstand the Dark Lord's interrogation," she confessed, her voice frantic as she paced the room.
"Hermione, you must!" His voice rose to a near-scream.
A creak echoed from the hallway, and they both spun towards the door.
"Hermione," Lucius's voice boomed from the doorway, his presence as menacing as ever. "Come with me, now."
She glanced down at her torn nightgown. "Can I at least change–"
"No," Lucius snarled, yanking her from the room.
The familiar sensation of dissolving into thin air overwhelmed her as they Apparated away from the manor.
They materialized abruptly onto a dark cobblestone street. A breathtaking cathedral loomed before them, a masterpiece of intricate stonework. Countless sculptures of saints and angels adorned the structure, their weathered faces etched with expressions of serene contemplation, gazing down upon the street below. Soaring spires pierced the dark, cloudless sky, their tips swallowed by the gloom. The cathedral's high, jeweled windows, framed by lustrous gold trimmings, gleamed with an almost menacing quality in the dim light cast by the street lamps.
Without a word, Lucius gripped her arm and pulled her forcefully up the cathedral steps. They passed through the massive oak doors into a vast, cavernous space filled with rows of pews and an array of additional statues. An icy chill permeated the air. As she looked up, a gasp escaped her lips. Hundreds of shadowy creatures swirled and darted near the cathedral's lofty ceiling, their forms barely discernible against the darkness.
At the heart of the cathedral, upon a raised altar, sat the most frightening man she had ever laid eyes upon. His very presence radiated an aura of menace. His skin was stretched taut over sharp cheekbones, pale and waxy, giving him an almost cadaverous appearance. His face, drawn and angular, resembled that of a serpent, with nostrils reduced to mere slits. To his right stood Draco, dressed in his death eater robes. On his left, a massive serpent, its scales shimmering in the dim light, glided effortlessly across the cold stone floor, its unblinking eyes fixed upon her.
All three figures watched intently as Hermione, her heart pounding in her chest, approached the altar. She made a futile attempt to gather the tattered remnants of her nightgown, but the fabric slipped through her fingers, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. A wave of shame washed over her, but she refused to let it break her resolve. She would face them with her head held high.
A harsh, guttural sound broke the tension - someone had spat to her right. Hermione's gaze snapped in that direction, landing on a woman with a mane of dark hair. The woman stood motionless, her eyes locked on Hermione with undisguised loathing. Even in the dim light, her dark eyes seemed to glow with an eerie luminescence, piercing Hermione with their intensity. The air around her crackled with a restless, almost predatory energy, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine.
“Well, well,” Voldemort cooed quietly. “The Malfoy Mudblood in the flesh.”
“My lord,” Lucius greeted. “I brought her as quickly as I could.”
“Thank you, Lucius, you may go.” Voldemort said with a wave of his taloned hand.
“Yes, my lord.” Lucius’s eyes lingered on Draco for a brief moment before he exited the cathedral without another word.
Draco remained standing, his gaze fixed in the distance.
“I can see why someone might be infatuated with her. If not for her disgusting blood, she would be quite a beauty.” Voldemort’s voice echoed through the chamber, his words seeming to hang in the air, directed at no one in particular.
When Voldemort's appraising gaze met hers, she couldn't suppress the gasp that escaped her lips. His hollow, crimson eyes, seemed to bore straight into her soul.
“Mudblood,” Voldemort began, his voice dripping with disdain, “I have called you here today to investigate an accusation - ”
“It's not an accusation!! It’s true! Why else would Draco kill a loyal follo -” The dark haired woman's voice, sharp with conviction, cut through the silence.
“Quiet, Selene,” Voldemort's voice boomed, reverberating through the cathedral, “Before you suffer the same fate.” Hermione's knees nearly gave way beneath her.
Voldemort's narrow eyes returned to hers, and he tilted his head slightly. She noticed the hand holding his wand flex subtly, the movement barely perceptible.
With a graceful motion, he rose from his chair. His black robes billowed around him as he stalked towards her, each step deliberate and menacing. She squared her shoulders, forcing herself to maintain her composure despite the fear that coursed through her veins. Her eyes locked with Draco's, a silent plea for help. But his expression remained blank, devoid of any emotion, and she knew she was utterly alone.
Her breath hitched as Voldemort invaded her personal space, his towering body casting a chilling shadow over her. His snake slithered menacingly close, its forked tongue flicking out as if tasting the fear in the air. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and despite every ounce of willpower she could muster, a whimper escaped her lips when she finally met his gaze. His crimson eyes, burning with an otherworldly intensity, pierced through her, and in that moment, she felt the full weight of him pressing down on her.
“SHHHHH, this will only take a moment.” He said as he pressed his wand between her eyes and violently barged into her mind.
His magic ripped through her like knives, it felt nothing like when Draco performed Legilimency. It was excruciating. It felt disgusting, like a hundred tiny snakes slithering and squeezing her skull. She fought back the urge to vomit. She heard herself screaming in agony and he diced through her brain matter.
He tugged at the delicate threads of her memories of Draco. She fought back with a deep, steadying breath, focusing intently on the rhythm of his dark magic. When she sensed his probe reach for a memory that held Arys, she reacted with a subtle mental shove, burying the precious memory deep within her mind.
Again and again, she deflected his intrusion, redirecting him towards memories of Draco's cruelty and disdain. Images flashed before her eyes: Draco abandoning her in the Maze, his constant sneers and insults, his cold indifference, the hateful insults, his accusations of weakness. She observed Voldemort's lips curl in a cruel smirk as he witnessed these scenes, a dark satisfaction spreading across his features.
Her strength finally gave out, her knees buckling beneath her as she collapsed to the cold stone floor.
Voldemort turned away, a triumphant sneer etched on his face as he reclaimed his seat.
"It seems you are mistaken, Selene," he declared, his voice dripping with contempt. "Draco seems to detest this Mudblood as much as I do."
"My lord, please! Look again!" Selene's voice trembled with desperation.
"You think me a liar? A FOOL?" Voldemort's anger flared, his voice echoing through the room.
"N-no, my lord, of course n-," Selene stammered, fear choking her words.
Selene’s words were cut off in a grunt, followed by a sickening gargle. Hermione watched in horror as blood began bubbling out of her mouth. Selene choked as her lungs seemed to fill with blood before collapsing in a heap on the floor.
The dark lord didn’t even watch as Selene struggled through her last breaths. The snake slowly approached Selene’s lifeless body, and Herimione could only imagine the horror that was about to take place.
She turned her head and vomited on the floor.
“Draco, Please stay. There is something I would like to discuss with you.” Voldemort spoke to Draco as if he were inviting him to afternoon tea, no indication that he had just violently murdered someone.
"Yes, my lord," Draco replied with a stiff bow, his voice devoid of emotion. He straightened, then barked, "Dobby!"
With a sharp 'crack', Dobby materialized beside him, his large eyes filled with apprehension.
"Yes, my lord?" he squeaked, bowing low.
Draco's eyes flicked towards her, his face contorted in a mask of disgust. "Take her back to the Manor," he ordered, his voice laced with disdain, "and get her cleaned up."
"Of course, my lord," Dobby replied meekly.
Dobby approached her, his movements surprisingly gentle as he helped her to her feet. He carefully took her hands. She cast a final, lingering glance at Draco before she and Dobby vanished with a soft 'pop', disappearing into the darkness of the night.