The Broken
“Where’s Draco?” Hermione asked, her fingers fidgeting with the slinky fabric of her dress while she waited by her bedroom door. She had been dressed in a tight purple cocktail dress with an a-line bottom and low back, showcasing too much skin for her liking. She had tried her luck with getting a pair of shoes and had been denied again by a shame-faced Tori. Shortly after denial, it was then she had noticed that the innocent girl hadn’t worn shoes either. Hermione had tried to ask about it only to be met with silence.
Tori looked at her, her face flat as she said in a monotone voice, “The broken you are referring to will not be attending tonight” The words made Hermione’s stomach flop. Tori’s act was back up in full force, it had been the entire time she had gotten her ready.
“Then who-” a knock on the door interrupted her question. Fretfully, Tori opened the door and curtseyed, “Lord Dolohov” Hermione couldn’t see him from her viewpoint but the name alone made her want to jump out of her skin. The door opened fully and Hermione slammed her occlumency shields down, trying to make her face as neutral as possible.
“Ah the golden mudblood. You look ravishing once again” Dolohov’s voice was grating at her ears, his presence washed over her like a tidal wave of destitution and depravity. He was a monster in humans clothing and she thanked godric that she had been practicing occlumency. She thought of what Tori had said weeks ago, they wouldn’t hesitate to throw her back in the dungeons. That would mean game over before it even began. With a herculean effort she said nothing, swallowing the retort that was on her tongue.
Dolohov just smirked at her silence and held his arm out. It was laughable that he was even pretending to be a gentleman, but she supposed he might’ve been delusional enough to actually consider himself one. The bile burned in her throat as she looped her arm with his and they headed out into the hall. With how much she had been practicing, Hermione knew tonight would be perfect practice on locking down her emotions the same she had suspected Draco had been.
“I’m glad you’ve agreed to let me escort you tonight, Mrs.Malfoy” her feet drug a bit at the address. She didn’t know if Mrs.Malfoy or mudblood was more offensive at this point. She also thought it was another barb to mention her agreeing to be escorted by the cretin. He knew damn well she hadn’t even been informed about him, let alone agreed.
Hermione looked down at her bare feet next to his shiny black leather dress shoes as they walked the halls. She’d make it a point to see if the other servants had also been refused shoes. It was such a small thing to deprive someone of, but it sent such a big message. ‘Look at how we own you. Look at how below us you are. You are so filthy you don’t even deserve socks’ It enraged her so much that she felt her walls slip, causing her to hastily throw them back up. She couldn’t risk a single thought getting out.
“The pleasure is mine” Hermione said with a saccharine smile that reminded her so much of Umbridge she was surprised to find her clothes hadn’t transformed into a giant pink doily. His hand slipped to her waist and to stop from pushing him away she pictured herself slitting his throat. It was dark, she knew, but it gave her satisfaction and kept her emotions at bay. Besides, she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for a man who murdered children and laughed.
“Come, mudblood. Let us dance” Dolohov said as they entered the ballroom, music washing over her. She had only been there two weeks ago, still barefoot, but with a much better partner. It was awful that a catatonic Malfoy had been considered better company. As he marched her from the entrance to the dance floor she searched for any servants she could find, only to meet a pair of slate gray eyes. His eyes flashed again but it was smothered before she could even blink.
He looked at her like one would look at a wall with paint drying, complete and total disinterest. That look that no one was conscious in his head made her want to scream. Hermione wondered if her own face mirrored his. Chancing a glance down at his feet confirmed her running theory, he wore no shoes. Her walls trembled again and she was starting to get irritated with not only Dolohov but now herself. With a deep breath in, she reminded herself she could do this, she had to.
A new song started up and Dolohov took her hand as a simple waltz started. “I hope you’re finding the accommodations better. Narcissa did always have good taste, as you know” his eyes were out on the crowd, not focusing on her. His hand had tightened on her waist and she yelped as she tried to play it off by asking, “What do you mean, my Lord?”
His eyes moved back to hers, “Well you’re the Lady of the manor now. It would have only made sense to put you where the old one used to reside” his words dripped in an odd mix of sarcasm and smugness. So that explained why there had already been a fancy wardrobe and why Draco seemed to already know the room. But it begged the question, where was Narcissa Malfoy now?
Hermione cleared her throat, trying to seem unphased though she couldn’t say how well she masked her surprise. “Can you tell me about the Broken? I’m very confused” she thought by putting herself down a bit, making them underestimate her intelligence could be a good way to glean information. Dolohov snarked, “I thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch of her age?”
She looked away now, urging timidness to leak from her pores, “That was a long time ago” she said softly, inside she was smiling like a cheshire cat as she turned to look back at him, “You seem to know a lot about what’s going on so I thought you wouldn’t mind telling me”
Like the true idiot he was, Dolohov preened at her declaration. Any chance to lord over one and he would take it. “Well they’re exactly what they’re called, broken” He said it condescendingly like she was a child “They’re mudbloods and blood traitors who wouldn’t bow down properly or who deserved punishment. You should know considering your husband is one. They’re a shell, perfect little listeners. Will do anything you tell them to. Any refusal has been beaten right out of them” the smirk on his face spoke volumes of what he had been telling them to do. Hermione’s walls crumbled at the thought of the injustice of it all. She felt her lips turn down, her brow furrow.
She went to open her mouth, only to shut it when her finger burned again. That damn rune. Hermione pressed into it with her thumb and looked away from Dolohov, only to find the eyes of Tori now on her. The blonde servants’ blue eyes bored into Hermiones. God she hoped Tori hadn’t been a victim to Dolohov. She held Tori’s eye contact and pictured Dolohov being murdered. She’d get Tori out too, Hermione decided.
Dolohov spun her back to face him, “I could save you from becoming one. All you have to do is ask” Hermione knew it would never be that simple. The fact that he truly thought she was dumb enough to think that made her want to scoff. It worked in her favor though, and that just disgusted her all the same time.
“Being broken is better than the cells” She deflected his offer and returned back to her timid voice and wrapped her arms around herself.
Dolohov sneered, “Have it your way, Mudblood. Once you’re truly broken I’ll have you either way” He turned to a broken standing a few feet away, “Take her back to her room. I’m bored of her now” Hermione never thought she’d be relieved by something coming out of Dolohov’s mouth. He turned and walked away before either her or the broken said anything.
“This way, miss” the boy was young, too young to be here. He couldn’t be more than eighteen, most likely sixteen if she really had to guess. He had that same cowering nature that the others seemed to possess, but right before she turned to leave she saw him reach up and graze his ear.
xXx
Neither Hermione nor the boy said anything on the way back to Narcissa Malfoy’s rooms. Instead she focused on what she was sure had been a signal, for what she didn’t know. Hermione wondered how many of the ‘broken’ were actually broken. Tori certainly wasn’t and now she suspected the boy wasn’t, either. Their timidness, cowering, and meek nature was most likely real, but they were not shells like Dolohov proudly proclaimed.
Her thoughts however quickly switched to the last thing Dolohov had said to her, ‘once you’re truly broken I’ll have you either way’. She thought of how close she had been to actually losing her mind in the cells. She wasn’t far off now to be honest. One could only lose so many loved ones and then locked and beaten before they checked out. But his threat had been another reminder. She wasn’t broken, and she never would be.
When they reached her room she wasted no time rushing to the bathroom, not even looking back to see if the young broken had left. She spent the rest of the night puking and scrubbing her skin raw trying to purge herself of Dolohov and his threats. He would never get the chance to lay a finger on her again.
xXx
Another week went by and Hermione had started to plot their escape. For all her faults, she was smart enough to know it would be damn near impossible. She had only left the room once with Dolohov and that hadn’t been enough to remember the layout of the manor by any means. She also had to take into account the wards and that’s not to mention the fact that she had no wand so she’d have to figure out how to get those as well.
Malfoy had told her to not leave the room but she was coming to the conclusion she had no choice. They still hadn’t spoken and it infuriated her to no end. He came in at impossibly late hours, barely slept and then was gone again. There was more to him and she knew it, but she had decided it was time to ignore him. He hadn’t done anything to gain her trust so why should she listen to him? Plus she needed to gain more info, she needed a solid plan to sell to Tori so she’d agree to leave.
That was how Hermione found herself wandering in the eerie halls of Malfoy Manor. It was so dark she struggled to really make much out, but she needed to find all exits to the house first. She found steps to the down stairs fairly quickly, creeping down with her hand glued to the rail. Some of the doors she passed had lights still lit underneath them and she held her breath passing by each. She vaguely wondered where Tori and the other Broken had slept. She knew it wasn’t the dungeon, or at least she hoped it wasn’t, she was sure she would’ve noticed the company.
The stairs bottomed out into what she thought was a pretty open room, but the lack of light was still impending her vision heavily. She spotted a pool of light leaking from the bottom of a shut door and decided that she’d start in that direction. The hallway was tighter than the others and as she approached the door she realized she could hear the hissing of voices. Knowing she’d have no wand to defend herself if caught, she weighed her options.
They’d most likely just kill her at this point if caught, but she had come all this way to get as much information as possible. She’d need to take advantage of whatever conversation going on that had been forgotten to be silenced. Hermione snuck up to the door as quietly as possible, which if she was honest with herself she was pretty impressed at how quiet she had been. She didn’t dare put her ear to the door, but leaned her head as close as she could.
“We need to move faster. He’s planning something” The voice was gravelly, but stern. It was hard to tell if she knew who it belonged to as the door muffled it quite a bit.
“We’re going as fast as possible!” A higher pitched voice popped in. It was clear it belonged to a woman.
“Well it’s not enough. If we don’t get our shit together we’re dead soon” The male voice returned.
“What do you think he’s planning?” The voice sounded young but predominantly male as well. Were they talking about Voldemort? Or was there another ‘he’? She would kill for Harry’s invisibility cloak and her wand right about now. Specifically Dolohov if she had to pick who.
“It was something to do with the binding. He doesn’t do anything just for ‘entertainment’ unless it’s an extra crucio” There was some snark in the deeper voice, one that seemed familiar.
“Merlin, how are we-” another voice started but they didn’t get to finish before the door was ripped open. Hermione tried to back away from the door, knowing that her life could be hanging in the balance. But her arm was caught at the speed of a snake strike. She tried to twist it out, feeling the bruising grip, but it was to no avail. Her attacker wretched her into the room and her back slammed into what felt like a dresser.
Hermione heard the door shut again and what sounded like a silencing spell. Somehow within the entire debacle she had closed her eyes, everything happening too quick for her to even fight back. She was waiting for the pain to hit her, but all she felt was the rapid fall of her chest and heard her uneven breaths. Her eyes snapped open to see what her perpetrator was doing, but who it was shocked her more than any crucio could’ve. “Malf-” his name hadn’t even fully left her lips before she felt the invasion.
Being caught so off guard from being attacked her shields had not fully been in place. She tried to resurrect them to their full strength but he pushed it off and was inside her maze almost immediately. It wasn’t exactly painful like her book had mentioned it could be but she knew he wasn’t being gentle either. She felt him walking through her maze and she tried to rearrange it like she had in her practice sessions. It took Malfoy almost no time at all for him to catch onto the changing of the maze and he started to cut through her hedges. Hermione couldn’t hold back the wince and cried out. It was burning more and more with every cut he made into the maze.
Malfoy seemed to track her pain and doubled down on his attack. She started to genuinely panic when she felt him getting closer to the middle. Hermione didn’t have much in the sense of secrets but they were her memories. Her childhood, things she had kept to herself and told no one. Her parents… terror took over as she thought he’d find the memory of her obliviating her parents. Her sending them to Austrailia where they were safe.
Hermione retracted her forces of rearranging the maze and let him cut through while she focused on gathering as much power as she could. When she felt him graze the first memory, she pushed as hard as possible, she thought she heard a “no!” yell out but wasn’t sure. She felt the fog overtake her for a second and dizziness hit her. Vaguely. she felt Malfoy’s presence recede and opened her eyes to see his irises were full silver now.
They were the last thing she saw before collapsing.