The heist
Hermione (Present)
Several days passed, and Hermione still grappled with disturbing visions of Crabbe's body swinging from the rafters. She had returned to the dining room later that evening to see if he was still there, but he was gone. Despite Crabbe's vile intentions, she couldn't help but feel a pang of unease. She hoped Draco hadn’t killed him, but she decided not to ask.
Memories of their night in the backroom at the club frequently resurfaced, warming her from within. Draco's image lingered in her mind constantly. It had been days since their last encounter at breakfast, and she found herself yearning to see him. She hoped he would invite her to join him for dinner soon. It seemed the tables had turned; he was now the one keeping his distance.
Later that night, she sought refuge in the library, a bottle of wine with her. The library was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, dust dancing in the tranquil air. She meandered through the aisles, her arms filled with a selection of intriguing books, eventually discovering a secluded dim alcove to settle into.
Two glasses of wine later, the book in her hand lost its allure. A pleasant warmth spread through her, fueled by the wine, her cheeks flushed. She ventured deeper into the stacks, her curiosity leading her to a romance section.
The book she chose proved far more scandalous than anything she and Astoria had indulged in. Lost in its pages, she surrendered to the forbidden pleasure of the text, her imagination ignited by its very explicit content. She absently let her hand roam beneath her skirt, and before she realized what she was doing, she was panting, imagining her hand was Draco’s.
Lost in her fantasy, her fun was abruptly shattered by the faint echo of footsteps in the otherwise silent library. With a start, she gently closed her book and rose to her feet, curiosity piqued. She fixed her skirt and made her way toward the noise.
Cautiously peering through the gaps between the bookshelves, she spotted Draco settling onto one of the plush couches, a book clutched in his hand. His attire was unexpectedly casual, dressed in dark green pajamas with the top buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his muscled chest. Never before had she seen him in such a relaxed state. His hair was disheveled, and his overall appearance suggested he had been roused from sleep. Fuck..was he wearing...reading glasses? How adorable.
Glancing towards the window, she realized with a jolt that time had slipped away from her. The sky outside was dark and scattered with bright stars. She was hidden from view, and Draco seemed to be unaware of her presence, so she allowed her hand to slide into her knickers as she watched him read. Biting her lower lip, she realized she was still wet and already close. This would be quick. His eyebrows were furrowed, absorbed by what he was reading, the look on his face was one of deep concentration. Bloody hell, he is hot. She shouldn’t be doing this, but as she felt the orgasm building in her, she closed her eyes, doing everything in her power to remain quiet and slow her breathing.
When she reopened them, he was...gone.
She leaned closer to the shelf, attempting to get a better look, her eyes frantically darting from left to right.
“Hermione?”
She screamed at the familiar voice that boomed behind her and jumped, turning around and holding onto the shelf for support. When silver eyes met hers, she wanted to die of embarrassment.
Draco stared at her bewildered, taking in her appearance, his eyes darting from her face to the hand that was still halfway down her skirt. His mouth dropped open as he realized what she had been doing. He set his book and glasses down on the nearest shelf, his signet ring glinting in the moonlight, as he slowly approached her. Her heartbeat drummed loud in her chest as she slowly pulled her hand from her skirt and she looked away unable to meet his curious stare.
“Please, don’t stop on my account.” He continued to approach her, a grin splitting his face, until he nearly caged her against the shelf. “I knew that books…excited you…but I guess I underestimated how much.” He said with a chuckle.
Her cheeks were burning. His silver eyes danced over her until they landed on the opening in the bookshelf. He leaned over to look through the parted books and his whole body stilled.
His attention returned to hers with a snap. “Were you…watching me?”
She allowed her gaze to meet his, and winced, wishing that the ground would swallow her whole. She knew there was no talking herself out of this one so she nodded.
He released a heavy breath, his eyes shining, his smirk gone. His eyes darted between hers for a moment, before he reached up and twirled one of her curls around his finger. He leaned in and whispered into her ear, “Do you want me to leave?” The feel of him so close sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core and she released a shuddering breath.
When she didn’t answer, he placed his hands tightly on her hips and turned her around, pushing her against the shelves. His lean body pressed into her. She nearly gasped at the contact.
“Tell me you want me to stay.” His voice was raspy in her ear.
“I want you to stay.” She answered breathlessly.
Without hesitation, he kicked her legs apart with his foot, his strong hands still gripping her waist tightly. She nearly cried out when his fingers lightly moved beneath her skirt and began tracing over her white cotton knickers.
“Fuckkkk,” He breathed into her neck as he began applying more pressure with his fingers.
She wanted him so badly. None of his prior transgressions seemed to matter at the moment and she tried to rationalize with herself, but when his fingers slipped beneath her knickers she could think of nothing else but all the places they were connected. She needed more.
“Let me finish what you started.” His voice vibrated through her body.
She knew she shouldn’t. This was so wrong, but it felt so good. She was starving for him. His long fingers slowly rubbed her clit and she could feel his hardness pressing into her back.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you.” He whispered as he continued to tease her.
She didn’t answer, the words caught in her throat as she let out a breathy moan. She was already so close.
“Do you want my fingers inside of you?” He asked when she didn’t respond.
With another sigh, she nodded her head and he pushed two fingers inside of her.
“So fucking wet, always so ready for me.” He purred into her ear.
He pushed his fingers in and out of her, her moans growing louder with every thrust. He used his unoccupied hand to reach beneath her blouse and play with her breast, squeezing her nipple hard. Her legs felt like they were about to buckle and he seemed to notice because he removed the hand from her breast and wrapped it around her middle, holding her steady. He removed his fingers and spread the wetness against her clit. She moaned, her back arching into him.
“That’s my good girl,” He praised. His words, in combination with teasing fingers, nearly sent her over the edge.
He abruptly stopped his movements and turned her to face him. “I want to watch you.”
His hand moved toward her center once again, but she stopped him.
“I want more.” She said breathlessly as she gripped his large hand in hers.
His mouth parted as he took in her face, she was sure he hated not being able to read her thoughts now that her shields were back in place. He looked hesitant, so she reached for his belt buckle and unclasped it. This seemed to break him from his trance. He pressed her against the wall and roughly pulled her knickers to the side. His hands gripped her hips as he angled her toward him.
“Are you sure?” He asked one last time. He looked almost frantic as he searched her eyes.
“Yes.” She responded confidently.
She felt his cock press at her entrance and her hands trembled slightly with nerves. So slowly, he pushed himself inside of her and they both exhaled deeply at the connection.
“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight.” he groaned once he was fully buried inside of her. He started to move, slow and deep.
“Malfoy, please,” She begged, not sure what she was asking for.
His thrusts became harder, but still slow, his body grinding into her clit with every thrust. His lips crashed into hers and his tongue pushed into her mouth, they swallowed each other's moans as their movements became frantic. She ground herself against him, meeting his every thrust as he filled and stretched her.
“So, fucking perfect.” He said into her mouth as he reached his hand between them and began rubbing circles against her clit. “I want to feel you come around my cock.” He removed his mouth from hers and yanked down her top, exposing her breast. He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked hard.
He increased his movements, the shelves rocked behind them as books spilled to the ground.
"Oh fuck, Draco...FUCK!"
The orgasm exploded through her. She screamed his name as she shattered around him, her body clenching and pulsating around his cock.
“God you’re so fucking hot when you come” he said as he increased his tempo. His movements were deep and hard. With a deep grunt, he emptied himself inside of her.
They both slid to the floor panting. She found her way to his chest and she felt his fluttering heartbeat against her cheek. They laid in a heap wordlessly for a long time, catching their breath. When she finally looked up at him, he was staring at her, a look of awe and wonder in his molten silver eyes.
"You called me 'Draco'." He said with a sweet smile.
***
They had parted ways shortly after, Draco mentioning he would be gone for a few hours. Exhausted and emotionally drained, Hermione didn't have the energy to berate herself for her actions in the library. She surrendered to the embrace of sleep, her mind finally at peace.
A subtle sound pulled her from the depths of slumber. In the dim light, she saw a shadowy figure perched on the chair beside her bed, their gaze fixed upon her. Startled, her heart pounded until she recognized the glint of pale hair illuminated by the moon's soft glow.
"Malfoy?" she croaked, her voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing? You frightened me."
"I apologize," he murmured. "I didn't intend to wake you. I simply wanted to ensure you were... alright... after what happened earlier."
Sitting up, she noticed he had thoughtfully lit a fire in the hearth, a task she had been too weary to undertake. His dark robes shimmered in the firelight, speckled with something she couldn't quite discern in the dimness.
"Where were you?" she asked.
"Just at the cathedral," he replied softly, rising from the chair.
A shiver ran through her at the mention of the place.
"I'm fine. Thank you for checking on me," she said as warmth blossomed in her chest.
He remained silent, turning to leave. He paused at the door, a moment of hesitation before he finally stepped out, closing it softly behind him.
The first rays of dawn were beginning to paint the sky. Now fully awake, she abandoned any thoughts of returning to sleep. As she passed the chair where Draco had been sitting, she noticed a scattering of debris on its surface.
Leaning down, she delicately picked up a fragment. Recognition flooded her. Fuzzy seeds. She had seen these before. Her mind flashed back to their time at Château de la Serpentine, a memory of shared intimacy amidst a flurry of these same seeds. Why had he lied?
Her brow furrowed in confusion, trying to piece it together. Suddenly, a realization struck her like a lightning bolt, nearly knocking her off her feet. The Château... it was the perfect place to keep someone hidden from the world. Her breath quickened as she connected the dots.
She knew where Arys was.
****
The subsequent days melted into a whirlwind of relentless reading, Hermione's mind consumed with strategizing her next move. She desperately needed to devise a way to remove the cuff and reclaim her magic, she would need it for the trials that lay ahead. Equally pressing was the need to orchestrate a flawless switch between Draco and Arys. The logistics of reaching the Château remained uncertain, but that was a bridge to cross later.
A deep sadness weighed on her heart at the prospect of betraying Draco so profoundly. She had realized long ago that she could never bring herself to end his life, yet she knew she must find a way to permanently neutralize his magic and sequester him in a place from which escape was impossible. If he would permit it, she would try to visit him, wherever that ended up being. She clung to the fragile hope that one day he might find it in his heart to forgive her. Yet, her unwavering determination to liberate Arys and restore balance to the wizarding world eclipsed the gnawing dread she felt for the impending betrayal. Deep within her soul, she recognized the inherent goodness within Draco, acknowledging that perhaps, in his own twisted way, he did hold a possessive love for her.
Deeply engrossed in the pages of her book, Hermione was so absorbed in its contents that she almost bumped into Theo as she made her way back to her room from the library.
"Theo!" she exclaimed, startled. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What are you doing here?"
"Hello, Hermione," Theo greeted her with a slight smile, his eyes flickering between her and the book in her hand.
"Draco invited me," he explained casually. "It seems another level ten has been identified and will be joining us for dinner tonight."
"Another level ten!?" Her voice rose in excitement, her mind racing. "Who is it?" If it was someone she could trust, someone perhaps less devoted to Draco, maybe she could sway them to her cause, convince them to remove the cuff. A new plan was already forming.
"Professor Dankworth," Theo revealed with a chuckle.
"Professor Dankworth?" She echoed, her brows furrowing in disbelief. "I never would have thought he had it in him."
Theo's amusement grew at her bewildered expression. "No, I suppose none of us did. Well, perhaps I'll see you later. I believe Draco plans to invite you to join us," he said, turning towards the dining room.
Oh, I'll be there, she thought to herself, a surge of determination propelling her towards her room.
*****
Hermione observed Professor Dankworth from her position across the grand dining table, trying to figure out a way to get him alone later. Her fingers fidgeted nervously, tracing the smooth surface of the two-way mirror tucked discreetly in her pocket. In a flurry of anxious anticipation, she reached into her pocket once more, her fingertips brushing against its cool, reflective surface, just to reassure herself for the hundredth time that it was still there, safe and sound. Dankworth seemed less obnoxious than she remembered, and the overt disgust she had once sensed in his presence had diminished. It was a small victory, a glimmer of hope.
To her right, Draco sat with his meal untouched, engaging in polite conversation with Dankworth.
"I was delighted to learn of another level ten being identified, Professor," Draco remarked coolly, swirling the wine in his glass. "However, it piqued my curiosity - what took so long for you to get tested? The announcements regarding the mandates have been circulating for quite some time now."
"Oh, you know, my boy," Dankworth responded between mouthfuls of food. "I don't get out much these days."
Draco's gaze lingered on the professor for a moment, a hint of weariness in his eyes, before he reached for Hermione's glass to refill her wine. Dankworth noted the subtle gesture of affection, his expression betraying a flicker of interest.
Earlier in the evening, Theo had excused himself, citing second in-demand duties.
Now alone, Dankworth leaned forward slightly, his eyes shifting between Draco and Hermione. "If you don't mind my asking," he began, "and I only do so because we're alone now... whatever became of Arys?"
Hermione's grip tightened on her glass until she feared it might shatter.
"I assumed my father might have informed you," Draco replied smoothly. "Arys has tragically died. I trust your continued silence and discretion on this matter will be upheld."
Died. She nearly scoffed.
"Of course, my lord," Dankworth assured him, but his eyes met Hermione's for a fleeting moment. "How terribly unfortunate. Such a promising, talented young man. My deepest condolences for your loss."
A wave of exhilaration washed over her. Perhaps Dankworth was precisely the ally she had been seeking. She began to fidget as she realized that her time was running out.
"Mippy!" Draco's voice echoed through the room.
With a soft pop, Mippy materialized, his head bowed. "Yes, master." His voice was barely a whisper.
"Please fetch more whiskey for the professor," Draco instructed.
Hermione had scarcely encountered Mippy since her arrival back at the manor. The once vibrant elf now appeared deflated, almost devoid of color. His sorrow over Arys's supposed demise permeated his every gesture, his small voice heavy with grief. It made her want to cry.
"Oh my boy," Professor Dankworth chuckled, "I fear I might splinch if I attempt to Apparate home after another glass. I regretfully must decline. In fact, I really should be on my way." He pushed back his chair and stood up.
"Allow us to walk you out!" Hermione blurted, springing to her feet.
Draco shot her a curious glance as she hurried towards the professor. She could feel his eyes on her as she crossed the room.
"My dear," Dankworth said, sidestepping her, "that won't be necessary. I'm quite familiar with the manor after all these years."
Panic surged through her. What could she do? Acting on instinct, she feigned a stumble, her body dramatically sprawling onto the floor. Dankworth rushed to assist her, and in that split second of close contact, she discreetly slipped the mirror into his pocket.
"Young lady, are you quite alright?" Dankworth asked, helping her to her feet.
Draco, now standing, watched with a concerned expression.
"Yes! Fine!" She brushed herself off. "Just a bit clumsy!"
"Very well then. Good evening to you both," Dankworth said with a final nod before exiting the dining hall.
******
The following night, Hermione paced restlessly in her room, her palms clammy with anxiety. Before dinner the night before, she had reached out to her friends, pleading with them to establish contact with Professor Dankworth. They had investigated, but to no avail. He seemed to maintain a remarkably low profile, a fact he had himself confirmed during their dinner conversation. The two-way mirror she had planted in his pocket remained the only hope of reaching him, though she had no way of knowing if the message from her friends had been received.
She had instructed them to use the device to contact Dankworth, urging him to rendezvous with her at the manor the following night, at the stroke of midnight, near the willow tree by the maze. The prospect of Draco discovering her late-night excursion filled her with fear, but she knew she had to take the risk.
She exited the manor unnoticed, a dark cloak shielding her from the night. She walked briskly toward the willow tree and waited. She wasn’t sure what time it was or how long she had waited when she saw a dark figure approaching in the distance.
Dankworth walked toward her, his gait marked by a slight limp. The years had clearly taken their toll.
“Professor, thank you so much for coming,” she said as he approached.
“What is the meaning of this?” he whispered, his eyes darting across the vast estate. “I was told to meet you here, in secret, and to bring the two-way mirror.”
“Did you bring the mirror?” She asked, fear lacing her words. She would need it to complete the final steps of her plan.
“Yes,” he said hesitantly, reaching into his pocket and handing it to her.
“Professor, I am not sure how to say this, so I am just going to come out with it,” she said shakily.
The professor didn’t respond, only eyed her curiously.
“What if I told you, Arys was alive and that I could save him, would you help me?”
Dankworth looked perplexed by her question, seemingly mulling it over.
“Am I to understand that you are asking me to commit treason, as I assume Lord Draco is not privy to your attempts to free the brother he is desperately trying to conceal?”
“Yes, that is correct,” She said confidently.
“What would I need to do?” He asked, his eyes narrowed.
“I need you to remove this cuff.” She held out her wrist. “It’s a magical suppressant that has been spelled to only allow a level ten to remove it. And as I have no access to my magic, that leaves only you and Draco to remove it.”
“Well, that seems easy enough. Do you know the spell?” He asked as he took her wrist in his hand, admiring the cuff and her small tattoo that mirrored his.
“Yes, but you can’t remove it until tomorrow evening. I have a few pending tasks that require me to interact with Draco, and he can’t realize it’s gone. I would need you to meet me back here tomorrow evening around 8pm.”
“Hmmm,” Dankworth seemed to ponder her request, rubbing his hand against his chin in thought. “And what will I get in return?”
“A very hefty sum of money, courtesy of the Malfoy vaults,” she responded quickly, already considering the possibility of him making his own demands.
“And how would Lucius and Lord Draco feel about that?”
Panic shot through her. She hadn’t thought of Lucius. He had been so absent from her life since her return that she nearly forgot he existed. She was confident that Arys could fool most everyone into believing he was Draco, but Lucius would be an obstacle. She would need to think through that later. For now, she needed to focus on the task at hand.
“Lucius and Draco will be out of the picture,” she said, her face a mask of confidence.
Dankworth seemed to come to a decision, his features relaxing as a slow smile spread across his face.
“Fine, I agree to the terms. I will return tomorrow night at 8pm sharp.” He turned to leave without another word, his dark robes trailing behind him.
After he was gone, she released the breath she had been holding, the cold night air burning her chest as she took a deep inhale. She turned and returned to the manor. Tomorrow, she promised herself.
Back in the solitude of her room, she gingerly retrieved the two-way mirror from her pocket. The warmth of her touch seemed to awaken it, its reflection rippling and swirling like water. Moments later, a pair of familiar emerald green eyes gazed back at her. Tears welled up in her eyes at the sight of her dear friend.
"Harry," she breathed, her voice choked with emotion. "Oh, Harry, it's so wonderful to see your face." She had limited her contact with the Order to the bare minimum, terrified that her sole means of communication would be discovered and taken from her.
"Hermione, Merlin, I miss you so much," Harry's voice trembled.
"Harry, I have to be quick," she said, her eyes scanning the room nervously. "Everything is falling into place. I need you to meet me at the manor tomorrow night at 8pm. You need to contact Severus Snape, tell him Hermione needs him; he can bring you here. There's a large willow tree near a maze, meet me there."
"Okay, Hermione, we'll be there," Harry responded without hesitation, his bright eyes filled with resolve.
"I'll explain everything tomorrow, but I have to go now. And Harry, thank you."
*****
The next day, Hermione found herself pacing her room once again. She had attempted to sleep the night before, but after a few restless hours, she had given up. The next phase of her plan filled her with dread. She hated the thought of putting Mippy in harm's way, but she needed him, and she wanted to offer him the choice to help save Arys.
Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, she called out to Mippy.
He appeared instantly, his demeanor as downcast as ever.
“Miss Hermione?” Mippy greeted her with a bow. “How are you this morning?”
“Mippy, I need to ask you for a favor...” Her voice wavered, and tears welled up in her eyes.
“Anything, Miss Hermione,” Mippy responded, a look of concern etched on his face.
“Tonight, I need you to Apparate with me to Château de la Serpentine.”
Mippy turned away from her, his voice heavy with sadness. “Miss Hermione, Master Draco has instructed me not to take you away from the manor grounds.”
She pressed on, “Yes, I assumed as much. But what if another member of the household you served was in danger and desperately needed help?”
“Then, of course, Mippy would need to bend the rules if it were a dire situation,” He replied, confusion clouding his features. “But Miss Hermione, how does visiting the Château...”
She interrupted him, her voice firm. “Mippy, Arys is alive. He is trapped at the Château, and we need to rescue him.”
Mippy froze, as if unable to comprehend her words. Then, his shoulders slumped as the reality sunk in. Sobs wracked his small frame as he rushed to her, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheeks, his tears mingling with hers. He held her wordlessly for a long moment before finally speaking.
“Mippy will take Hermione to the Château tonight. Mippy will do anything to save Master Arys.”
*****
At precisely 7pm, Hermione crept through the dimly lit corridors towards Draco's room, the vial containing the clear liquid nestled securely in her robe pocket. She found his door ajar and entered. Draco was seated on his bed, nursing a glass of whiskey, his expression somber. He didn't rise to greet her.
Approaching cautiously, she perched on the edge of the bed, choosing a spot near the window. Draco wordlessly extended his arm and placed his glass on the nearby side table.
She watched him, but he remained distant, his gaze fixed on the floor.
"Is everything alright?" she asked softly, her heart aching. She longed to embrace him, to express her remorse for what she was about to do, but the image of Arys, trapped and helpless, flashed in her mind, strengthening her resolve.
He offered no reply, his shoulders slumped in silent dejection. She decided that now was the opportune moment. With a discreet movement, she uncorked the vial, stealing one last glance at Draco to ensure his attention was elsewhere before carefully pouring the contents into his drink.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips as the silence persisted. He reached past her to retrieve his glass, taking a long swallow. Relief washed over her as she watched him consume the potion. Once he had finished, she gently took the empty glass from his hand and returned it to the table.
"You can talk to me, you know," she offered, feeling like a complete imposter.
When his eyes finally met hers, she was taken aback by their state. They were clouded and dark, the usual silver replaced by a deep, impenetrable blackness. He was occluding. The sight pierced her heart. Overcome with a wave of compassion, she reached for him, drawing his head onto her chest. She stroked his back soothingly, and he released a shuddering breath. She felt him trembling in her arms, and she tenderly kissed the top of his head.
She sighed. She had no idea what was tormenting him so deeply, but she continued to trace patterns on his back as his breaths gradually grew deeper and slower. Eventually, she carefully laid him down on the bed, tucking the covers around him. The potion had taken effect swiftly. She lingered for a while, unable to take her eyes off of him, before finally slipping out of the room.
At the designated hour, Hermione arrived at the weeping willow, Mippy trailing anxiously behind her. Together, they waited for the arrival of their rescue party. One by one, figures emerged from the shadows: Snape, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Neville and Luna. Hermione silently embraced each of them, her heart swelling with gratitude for their unwavering support.
A hush fell over the group as they awaited her instructions. From the opposite direction, Professor Dankworth approached, his presence met with wary glances from her friends.
"This is Professor Dankworth," Hermione explained. "He is going to remove my cuff." The group acknowledged him with respectful nods.
She then recited the incantation for Dankworth, who deftly removed the steel band from her wrist. Magic surged through her veins once more, a euphoric sensation that nearly overwhelmed her. After regaining her composure, she outlined her plan.
"Mippy and I will head to the Château and retrieve Arys. While we are gone, you need to enter the manor and find Draco's chambers. I gave him a potion that will keep him in a deep sleep for one hour. Once you locate him, you need to put this cuff on him to suppress his magic." She handed the cuff to Harry, who nodded solemnly. "After securing the cuff, take him to the ballroom. There's a hidden room behind the dais where you'll wait for Arys and me to return. Do NOT harm Draco under any circumstances. Is that clear?"
"Yes," they all responded in unison.
"You must be quick," she emphasized. "There are frequent visitors coming and going from the manor. You'll be safe in the hidden room."
Hermione's gaze swept across the faces of her friends, a final farewell etched in her eyes. Then, with a resolute nod, she reached for Mippy's hand. Together, they vanished into the night with a resounding crack, leaving behind only the rustling leaves of the willow tree.
They materialized just outside the Château, and Hermione immediately broke into a sprint, her heart pounding like a drum. The clock was ticking. They burst through the doors and were met with an eerie silence. They frantically searched every room, every corner, but the Château was devoid of life.
"Where is he?!" she screamed in desperation. Had she been wrong? Was her plan about to crumble just when it seemed so close to success?
Their search proved fruitless, and she let out a frustrated cry that echoed through the empty halls. Taking a deep breath, she tried to compose herself. Her eyes scanned the grounds outside the window, and she spotted a faint light flickering from a small building in the distance - the same one Draco had visited to retrieve the wine bottle on their last visit.
Without hesitation, she bolted towards the building, Mippy hot on her heels. The door was locked.
She stepped back, her wandless hand raised. "Bombarda!" she shouted, her voice amplified by the stillness of the night. The door splintered, blown off its hinges.
Inside, the building was bare except for a staircase leading to the basement. The faint candlelight beckoned from below. They rushed down the stairs, and upon reaching the bottom, she froze, all the air escaping her lungs.
There, lying on the floor, was a man. His face was obscured by a horrifying steel mask, rendering him nearly unrecognizable. The sight of his lifeless form nearly sent her into a panic, but she fought back the scream rising in her throat and ran towards him.
"ARYS!" She rolled him onto his back and shook his limp body. She could feel the faint rhythm of his breath, see his dark, overgrown hair peeking out from beneath the bolted mask.
"Arys! Please, Arys, WAKE UP!"
His eyes fluttered open, revealing the stunning blue irises she knew so well. A sob of relief escaped her lips.
He reached for her but couldn't speak. He was clearly on the brink of death, ravaged by starvation, dehydration, or perhaps even torture. The extent of his suffering was unclear.
She enveloped him in her arms, feeling the warm touch of Mippy's hand on her shoulder, tears glistening in his eyes.
"He's okay, Mippy," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But we need to get out of here. Apparate us back to the ballroom."
Mippy needed no further prompting. He grasped both of them, and with a crack, they disappeared from the cellar, leaving the darkness behind.
When they materialized in the ballroom, an unsettling silence enveloped them. Hermione gently laid Arys's head on the floor. Though barely conscious, but he was alive.
With a surge of urgency, she rushed to the hidden lounge, flinging the doors open. It was empty. She called out into the void, hoping her friends were concealed by some sort of charm, but no one answered.
A piercing, manic cackle shattered the silence, echoing through the ballroom. Hermione slowly turned, her body rigid with terror.
"Hello, Mudblood!" Bellatrix Lestrange stood before her, her eyes ablaze with a deranged glee. Flanking her were Rodolphus, Dolohov, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, and ten other figures she didn't recognize.
Fear paralyzed her as her gaze darted around the room. Mippy cowered near Arys, who remained motionless on the floor, his small face etched with fear.
"I suppose you're wondering what's going on, aren't you, love?" Bellatrix's voice sliced through the air, dripping with hysteria. "Oh, dear nephew, won't you join us?"
Hermione watched in horror as Draco was dragged into the ballroom by Professor Dankworth, a wand pressed menacingly against his throat. He was unharmed, but his posture revealed his unwilling participation in this ambush. A sickening realization struck her - Draco was wearing the cuff, he was utterly defenseless, his magic stripped away.
With a brutal shove, Dankworth sent Draco sprawling onto the cold marble floor, his head colliding with the unforgiving surface with a sickening crack.
Bellatrix danced around Draco's prone form, her laughter echoing maniacally. "How ironic," she shrieked, "that the one person you were so desperate to locate this past year, the one person who ever managed to penetrate your icy heart, could betray you so completely!"
Draco's eyes lifted to meet Hermione's, the raw pain of her betrayal etched across his face. He lay there, vulnerable and exposed. Unbidden, tears streamed down her cheeks, and she choked back a sob.
"Dankworth! How could you?!!" Hermione's voice echoed through the cavernous ballroom, anger simmering just beneath the surface of her skin.
Professor Dankworth, seemingly unfazed by her outburst, advanced towards her with a measured, almost leisurely pace. His limp was conspicuously absent, and his head was held high, radiating an air of newfound confidence that chilled her to the bone. With a flick of his wand, the doors to the ballroom slammed shut and shimmering wards encased the room.
He closed the distance between them, his presence looming over her. With a slow, deliberate movement, he began to circle her, like a predator sizing up its prey. She felt a shiver run down her spine, a mixture of fear and revulsion.
“I look forward to torturing you, while Draco watches…Or perhaps, I will make Draco do it himself under the Imperius curse.” Dankworth said with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes, “But first," his voice dripped with a cold finality, "a few outstanding items need to be addressed." He pivoted sharply, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. "Please detain her," he barked, pointing towards Hermione. "She's a filthy Mudblood and doesn't have a wand, but I've heard that she is quite efficient at wandless magic."
Two burly men surged forward, their movements swift and practiced. They seized her arms, their grip unrelenting, and forced her to her knees. Her hands were twisted behind her back, a harsh restraint meant to prevent any casting.
Dankworth then turned his attention to Draco, his face contorted in a mask of cruel delight. He loomed over him, his voice a low hiss. "You have no idea how long I have dreamt of this moment," he snarled. "Every day, every second for the last year, the thirst for revenge against you has plagued my every waking thought."
He cracked his neck, and rolled his shoulders before swiftly kicking Draco in the ribs.
“NO!” Hermione screamed, attempting to break free from the hold.
Dankworth continued to circle Draco, undeterred. “I believe I have sucked enough life from this shell of a body to finally leave this disgusting skin behind.”
Hermione watched in horror, as the skin of Dankworth's head slowly began to snap and break, splitting down the middle of his body. The flesh seemed to dissolve, not in chunks or gore, but in a smooth, almost mesmerizing flow. It slid off his form like molten wax, pooling onto the floor and congealing into a perfect, translucent replica of his body—a serpentine husk, hollow and lifeless. He glanced down at the discarded skin with an air of disdain, nudging it aside with the tip of his boot as if it were a mere inconvenience. "Many thanks to you, Professor," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "for your willing sacrifice."
When he turned, Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. A wave of ice cold terror washed over her, paralyzing her in place. It was a face she could never forget, one that had haunted her nightmares for countless years. Skin stretched taut over sharp, jutting cheekbones, pale as death, and nostrils reduced to thin slits. But it was the eyes that held her captive - hollow, crimson orbs that seemed to pierce through her, stripping away every layer of her, leaving her soul exposed.
In that horrifying moment, a single, devastating truth echoed in her mind....Voldemort had returned.