Chapter 8
Flashback - 'Before'
March 26, 1998
“Tell me Grindelwald, tell me where it is. Tell me who possesses it,” Voldemort implored.
Draco had never heard him sound so desperate before. He had also never witnessed someone so openly laugh in Voldemort’s face but that’s precisely what Grindelwald had just done.
It took around two months but they finally managed to track down Grindelwald. Hidden within the Austrian Alps, the old man was imprisoned in the top-most cell inside Nurmengard. His cell was narrow and dark, with only a sliver of an opening acting as a window. Pushed up against the left wall laid a thin blanket and a poor excuse for a pillow – both drenched in what Draco hoped was water. It was disgusting and every second that he stood watch in the doorway, Draco felt a new disease seep into his skin.
As Grindelwald continued to mumble riddles to Voldemort about the location of the elder wand, Draco looked up at the stars dusted across the night sky. He thought about how much Hermione would’ve loved this view. Draco always wondered what life would’ve been like if he and Hermione hadn’t waited this long to come together. He would’ve taken her on dates in London. He would’ve asked her in the most nauseatingly cheesy way to be his date to the Yule Ball. He would’ve taken her up to the astronomy tower so she could spend all night telling him about the different constellations and he would’ve even considered joining her and her wretched friends for a butterbeer in Hogsmeade.
Maybe things would’ve been different for him now too, he considered. Maybe he never would’ve become a Death Eater in the first place. It didn’t matter though. No matter how much he wished he could, he couldn’t change the past. He was stuck being a Death Eater and doing all of Voldemort’s dirty work.
Voldemort had drained Draco of every last drop of magic day after day. Each town that they turned over in their search for Grindelwald, Voldemort had Draco execute every resident whose blood wasn’t pure. He had half a mind to take that as a command to kill Voldemort himself, considering he was a half-blood.
It was a rigorous schedule Draco had been following the past few weeks. Apparating from one place to another and then another and when Voldemort grew irritated, like he often did, and wanted to rest, Draco was to continue in his absence. The list of those whose lives were mercilessly ended by ‘The Grim’ had tripled within the first week.
The morality of it all wasn’t something that Draco had struggled with. He knew that what he was doing was necessary. Necessary to uphold his image as a loyal follower of Voldemort, necessary to continue aiding the Order in the war and necessary to provide Theo with the life that he deserved - one without any blood on his hands.
Draco was just relieved that they finally found the old bastard. Sure, it would cause a few more issues if Voldemort did manage to get his hands on the elder wand but at least Draco could return to Hermione. To be honest, he cared even less now about who won the war. The only thing that mattered to him was keeping her safe.
“But I gave you what you wanted,” Grindelwald argued, his voice weak and shaky.
“Yes, and now that I know that you’re no longer in possession of the wand, I see no use in keeping you alive,” Voldemort replied.
When Draco turned around, he was surprised to see that Voldemort already had his wand pointed directly at Grindelwald. He assumed that he would once again be given the task of disposing but apparently, he was wrong. As the beam of light slammed into the centre of Grindelwald’s chest and his limp body slumped back into the wall, Draco stared at Voldemort with a jaded expression.
“You’re dismissed,” Voldemort said. “Return to the manor and resume your regular duties.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Draco nodded before apparating.
~~~
Approaching the front door to the manor, Draco went over his mental checklist of things that needed to be done to ensure maximum efficiency. In his head, the quicker he got through everything, the sooner he could return to Hermione.
As he opened the door and stepped inside, he went over the first task on his list - take a shower. While he wasn’t ashamed of the blood staining his robes, he figured Hermione would prefer it if her boyfriend didn’t show up covered in blood after two months of being away.
Making his way through the foyer, he reviewed the second item - get Bippy to cut his hair. It wasn’t unpleasantly long but it had grown out enough to where it was tickling the nape of his neck which was extremely annoying.
Before he could go over the third thing on his list, he was stopped mid-stride by the very elf he was just thinking about.
“Master Draco!” Bippy exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you!”
“You too, Bippy,” Draco replied with a tired smile. “Can you inform my mother that I’ve returned? I’ll also be requiring your assistance before I head back out this evening.”
“Missus Malfoy already knows that Master Draco has returned. Missus Malfoy requests that Master Draco join them in the drawing room.”
“Them? Who all is here?” he asked.
Bippy lowered her head slightly and anxiously rubbed her hands together. “Missus Malfoy told Bippy not to say. Missus says that it’s best if Master Draco sees for himself,” she replied timidly.
“Alright,” Draco sighed.
While he made his way to the drawing room, Draco continued going through his list. Number three, shave - he hated having facial hair, it was scratchy and made him look like a poor commoner. Number four, visit the home library - like mother had said on Christmas, he couldn’t visit the girl he’s courting without a gift. Number five, have Bippy prepare a meal basket - surely the unfortunate trio was famished. While he had arranged for their usual supplies to still be delivered, Draco was certain that Weasley scarfed down a majority of their food. Number six-
“Draco,” Bellatrix sang, her thin and cracked lips stretching into a malicious grin. “We were so glad to hear that you had returned today.”
“Bella,” Draco nodded. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”
“Always so ungrateful this one,” Bellatrix directed at Lucius. “One would’ve thought that being given the honour of working alongside the Dark Lord himself would help remedy that.”
“Careful Bella,” Draco warned. “Your jealousy is showing.”
“I am not jealous!” she roared, her curls just as wild as the look in her eyes. “In fact, after today I might be replacing you as the Dark Lord’s right hand.”
“Is that so? Pray tell, my dear aunt, what will be taking place today that would grant you such? Don’t tell me you’re going to try and seduce him. Surely by now you’ve realised that he isn’t interested,” Draco taunted.
“Draco they’ve,” Narcissa began as she stepped toward him but she was abruptly interrupted by Bellatrix.
“We’ve captured the boy,” Bellatrix gloated. “He’s being brought here now, and two of his little friends. You will be identifying him before we call upon the Dark Lord.”
Draco didn’t need her to specify which boy she was referring to, he knew that it was Harry. Amongst everything that Voldemort asked of his followers, capturing him has always remained a top priority. Even though Draco had grown to not completely loathe scarhead, his well-being still fell far below that of Hermione, who Draco knew was one of the two friends that Bellatrix had mentioned. As for Weasley, Draco decided that he could use him as a distraction when trying to get Hermione out. If he could keep her safe and eliminate Weasley in the process, Draco would be satisfied.
While Bippy nervously informed Lucius and Bellatrix of Dolohov and Rowle’s arrival, Narcissa crossed the room to where Draco was. Checking her surroundings to make sure that her sister and husband were out of earshot, she leaned in and whispered, “I fear that I must remind you of the part you’re meant to be playing right now, darling. Your aunt will be watching you closely. You mustn’t give her any reason to believe that you have even the slightest bit of feelings for the girl.”
Draco’s jaw clenched. “Yes, I’m well aware, mother.”
Present Day
Draco stared longingly at the space between their hands. Everything in him wanted to clear the inch that separated them but he also didn’t want to push it. Hermione was starting to do better but he knew that it would still take time for everything to go back to normal - or at least for her to not jerk away whenever he’d reach for her. So for now, he kept his hand at a comfortable distance and instead looked down at her forearm. His eyes scanned over the faded scar that his aunt had gifted her that day at the manor.
Mudblood.
He hated himself for using that slur when speaking to and about her in the past. He was an ignorant boy who let his father’s views affect his own. Hermione had told him that it didn’t bother her, having the degrading word carved into her skin, at least not anymore. But he still wished he could’ve stopped it from happening. He wished he had done more that day, he wished he had protected her.
Hermione took note of his distressed expression and followed his line of sight over to her left arm. Most days she had forgotten that she had also been marked during the war. It was by no means something that she was happy to have, but it hurt Draco more than it did her. Even though he wasn’t the one who carved it into her skin with a dagger, he still felt responsible.
“It’s not your fault, Draco,” she said.
Draco blinked a few times to snap out of his train of thought and looked up to meet her eyes. “What?” he asked.
“It’s not your fault,” she repeated. “There was nothing that you could’ve done.”
Pain filled the creases of his forehead as he furrowed his brows. “I could’ve stopped her.”
“We both know that it would’ve only caused more harm if you had.”
“Yes but I-”
Hermione shook her head. “No Draco,” she said softly. “You did everything that you could that day. Please, rid yourself of this burden.”
He would do anything that she asked of him, he would, but this one he was struggling with. No matter how many times she told him that it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t find it within him to agree. He remembered that day so vividly. He remembered the terrified look on her face when Rowle dragged her into the drawing room by the back of her coat. He remembered being able to feel her fear as Bellatrix nearly killed Dolohov once she spotted the sword of Gryffindor in his hands.
And most of all, he remembered the desperate look in Hermione’s eyes as she pleaded for him to get Harry, Ron and Luna when Bellatrix’s and Lucius’ backs were turned.
Flashback - 'After'
“You can’t be serious Granger,” Draco whispered as he peered over his shoulder to make sure that Lucius and Bellatrix were still occupied with the sword.
“I’ve never been more serious,” she whispered back. “Go and get Harry, Ron, Luna and whoever else is locked down there. I’ll be fine.”
Draco wanted to tell her no. That she was being unreasonable and that he’d rather let the whole lot die than leave her alone with his aunt and father. He had done his part for the Order, he refused to identify Potter. Now his focus was on Hermione and getting her out. If it were up to him, he’d leave Harry and Ron behind. He had a whole plan, let the two morons out of the cellar and let them distract Bella and Lucius while he snuck away with Hermione. In all honesty, it was a pretty foolproof plan.
“Don’t even think about it,” Hermione threatened.
“I wasn’t thinking anything,” Draco replied innocently.
“Yes, you were. I’m not leaving here without them.”
“Why not?” he groaned. “Aren’t you tired of babysitting? Besides, I’m sure if I came back in a few days they’d still be in one piece. The Dark Lord is off busy retrieving the elder wand, it’s not like Potter would be executed by sunrise. As for Weasley, well, he might be dead by then but good riddance if you ask me.”
“Draco…” she said sternly.
Even though she was saying it as a way to show her annoyance with him, hearing her say his name still made him weak in the knees. He really wished someone had warned him about the amount of power a single witch would have over him one day. He would’ve conditioned himself to not fold at the simple use of his given name. But he hadn’t, so here he was. Against everything in him telling him not to, he left Hermione’s side and made his way down to the cellar.
As he approached the gate at the bottom of the stairs, he spotted the back of Pettigrew’s greasy head. Taking out his wand, Draco muttered, “Imperio,” and observed as the silver hand made its way to Pettigrew’s neck and slowly began strangling him. Once his body collapsed onto the ground, Harry and Ron spotted Draco standing in the doorway.
“I never did like that guy,” Draco said casually.
“Did you just kill him?” Ron asked.
“Technically,” Draco exaggerated. “He killed himself. Did I assist? Yes. But it was his own hand that did the job.”
Before Ron could reply, a cracking noise broke through the air and Bippy appeared at Draco’s side.
“Master Draco! Missus Malfoy said that you might need Bippy.”
“Yes Bippy, please go find Dobby and bring him here.” The second the command fell from his lips, Bippy was gone.
“Dobby? Why are you getting Dobby?” Harry questioned.
“How else are you going to get out? It’s not like I can just walk you out the front door,” Draco deadpanned.
Another crack echoed through the room, this time the elf that appeared at Draco’s side was Dobby.
“Master Draco!” he said cheerfully. “And Master Ron and Master Harry! Oh it’s so good to see you all,” he smiled.
“Likewise Dobby,” Harry smiled back.
“Yeah, always a pleasure,” Ron added.
Looking up at Draco, Dobby said, “Bippy told Dobby that Master Draco requested Dobby.”
“That’s correct,” Draco nodded. “I need you to get Potter, Weasley, Lovegood, Mr Ollivander and even the goblin out of here.”
“Where is Dobby meant to take them?” he asked.
Draco looked over at Ron and Harry. “I got the elf here, why don’t you two pitch in for once.”
“The cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth,” Ron stated. “Trust me,” he said to Harry. “It’s safe there.”
“Right, okay,” Harry nodded. “Dobby, take Luna, Mr Ollivander and Griphook first.”
Dobby shuffled over to the centre of the room and grabbed onto Mr Ollivander’s hand and Luna’s. Once Griphook grabbed onto Luna’s freehand, Dobby turned his attention back to Draco.
“Meet us upstairs when you’re done. Once I give you my signal, get the rest of them out,” Draco instructed.
“How will Dobby know when Master Draco gives his signal?”
“You’ll know,” he replied.
A sudden and high-pitched scream flew through the air as Dobby apparated out of the cellar. Draco’s head whipped around as he heard the agonising cry once more.
“Hermione.”
He felt his heart drop when he reached the main floor and took in the scene before him. Bellatrix was on top of Hermione and had her left arm pinned out to the side. Anger and fear swirled inside him and tears welled up in his eyes as he watched in horror as Bellatrix leaned over and began digging the tip of her dagger into Hermione’s skin - it felt like a burning hot knife was being twisted in his gut.
The sound of her pain was like a physical blow, and he felt his own heart breaking as her cries bounced off of the walls. He wanted to run to her, to hold her and make the pain go away.
But as he took a step forward, he locked eyes with Narcissa, who slowly shook her head - telling him not to do whatever it is that he was thinking of.
He felt his hands start to shake as anger began to rise inside of him. It was a slow burn that started in the pit of his stomach and spread throughout his entire body. His jaw tightened and he felt his heart pounding in his chest. His mind began to race as he thought of the million different ways he was going to kill his aunt.
It was at that moment that Draco knew he was done. He was done being a Death Eater and done being a spy for the Order. He finally had an answer for the question that Ginny had asked him months ago, whose side he was on. He was on Hermione’s. His loyalty was to Hermione. Who he would fight for was Hermione. Who he would kill for was Hermione. And who he would die for was Hermione.
Once Bellatrix got up, Draco moved forward again - his gaze locked onto Hermione’s small unmoving frame. Her eyes were vacant as she looked up at him. It felt like all of the air had been knocked from his lungs as he watched a tear roll down her cheek.
Bellatrix’s lips parted as she went to say something but before she could get a word out, Ron and Harry emerged and began throwing hexes her way. Draco wanted to rush to Hermione’s side, but he knew that he still needed to play his part as a Death Eater one last time.
Catching Harry’s attention, Draco nodded his head in Hermione’s direction. The look in his eyes was all Harry needed to know what was being asked of him. Running over to where she was, Harry helped Hermione up to her feet and slowly began moving her to the opposite side of the room.
Joining his mother’s side, Draco stood opposite Ron, who was far too delighted to have a reason to throw a hex at him. Occasionally, Draco would half-heartedly throw one back, a piece of him hoping that one would land and knock Ron on his arse.
Spotting that Dobby had returned, Draco quickly glanced up at the chandelier hanging above them and whispered, “Diffindo,” causing the chain connected to the ceiling to sever and the gaudy light to come crashing to the ground. As soon as the dust in the room settled, Draco felt a wave of relief wash over him as he stared at nothing but empty space.
They had gotten out.
~~~
“Draco!” Hermione cried out as she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him.
“Are you okay? Has anyone taken a look at your arm?” he asked frantically as he held her face in his hands. “Gods, I’m so sorry Hermione, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I’m okay,” she assured him, but he could tell that she was lying.
“What happened?!” Draco snapped over at Harry and Ron. “Who caught you?”
Ron slumped back in his seat, falling timid under Draco’s glare.
“It was Dolohov and Rowle, the Death Eaters that we encountered that night at the cafe,” Harry stated. “We had just moved to a new campsite and-”
“Did you not cast a ward the moment you got there?!” Draco ridiculed. “Were you really that fucking stupid?”
“Of course we cast a ward!” Harry replied defensively. “But Ron and I-”
“I should’ve figured,” he scoffed.
“You didn’t let me finish,” Harry groaned.
“Oh, my apologies Potter, how rude of me. Please, finish your little story.”
“Thank you,” Harry exhaled, not catching the sarcasm in Draco’s voice. “Ron and I saw a rabbit when we first arrived and while Hermione was working on the ward, we thought that-”
“Mistake number one,” Draco mumbled to himself.
“We thought that,” Harry continued. “If there was one rabbit then surely there were more and while they’re not the ideal meal, it would be something. So, we headed a bit further into the forest and began tracking one. The sound of us shooting at it must’ve drawn attention because before we knew it, Dolohov and Rowle had closed in on us.”
The anger Draco had experienced when he saw Bellatrix torturing Hermione was nothing compared to what he felt now. He clenched his fists and he felt the heat flushing his face as the rage burned in his eyes. He was about to boil over.
“I have to go,” he said through gritted teeth.
Hermione grabbed onto Draco’s arm to stop him. “Wait, you’re leaving?”
“Granger, I’m either going to kill Potter and Weasley or I’m going to kill Dolohov and Rowle, your choice. I’m fine with either. In fact, I prefer the former.”
“Oh,” Hermione’s eyes widened. She’d seen him mad before but not like this. There was raw rage and she could see that it was taking everything in him to contain it. She knew that if she asked him to stay, he would, but she also knew that she’d end up writing a eulogy for both Harry and Ron. She had to let him go, even if she didn’t want to.
“When will you be back?” she asked.
“Tonight or early tomorrow,” Draco said.
“Okay,” she nodded. “Until then?”
“Until then,” he replied before kissing her forehead and apparating.
~~~
Draco leisurely paced back and forth as he spun his wand between his fingers. The single lamp in the middle of the manor cellar provided just enough light to see the frightened and bruised faces of Dolohov and Rowle, who sat back to back with their hands bound to their sides.
After leaving the cottage, Draco tracked both of them down in less than ten minutes. They were at a pub not far from the manor, drinking away their sorrows as they tried to recover from the beating that Bellatrix gave them. The moment he spotted them, Draco grabbed onto the back of their coats and apparated them back to the manor.
Silencing the cellar, Draco switched between using the cruciatus, and his own hands and feet to inflict pain on them. He continued to do so until the initial rage that had been consuming him had reduced to a level that allowed him to form a coherent thought. Dolohov and Rowle had almost preferred him drunk on anger. His cool and collected demeanour was far more unsettling.
“Here’s the thing,” Draco said calmly. “I’m going to kill one of you, obviously, but I’m also going to let one of you live. But who will it be? Well, that’s the fun part,” he smirked as he approached the pair. “That’s entirely up to you two.”
“Y-you want us to choose?” Dolohov coughed out.
“Precisely.”
“We would never-”
“Antonin!” Rowle blurted. “Kill Antonin!”
“Are you fucking kidding me Thorfinn?!”
“Fuck you Antonin, it’s every man for themselves.”
“You’re no man,” Dolohov spat back. “I hope you rot in hell.”
“I’m sure I will but I won’t be doing so today.”
“Final answer?” Draco questioned.
“Antonin,” Rowle nodded. “Kill Antonin.”
“Very well,” Draco shrugged as he raised his wand.
“Spineless cowa-” Dolohov’s sentence was cut short when Draco swiftly dragged his wand through the air, causing his neck to split open. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he choked on his own blood. Rowle jumped at the sound of Dolohov’s body crashing onto the ground. As Draco stepped around, Rowle looked up at him with eager eyes.
“I swear I won’t say anything.”
“Oh, I know you won’t,” Draco said as he removed the knife from his back pocket and knelt down.
Rowle’s face filled with terror as he spotted the blade. “Wh-what are you doing?” he asked. “I thought we had a deal? We pick who dies and the other gets to live.”
Draco nodded. “Yes, and you will live. Though, I think you’ll find yourself wishing that you were the one who died.” Forcing Rowle’s mouth open, Draco grabbed onto his tongue and placed it against the edge of his knife. “You see, Rowle, while I did say that you’d get to live, I didn’t say you’d do so in one piece.”
Yanking his right hand upwards, blood instantly began pouring from Rowle’s mouth. Long and high-pitched screams filled the room as Draco tossed aside the severed tongue. While he kicked his feet and continued to spit out blood, Draco picked up Rowle’s right hand and wedged the tip of the blade under the nail of his pointer finger and pushed forward until the nail popped off. Rowle’s head fell to the side as he passed out from the immense amount of agony coursing through him.
“For Merlin’s sake,” Draco groaned as he raised his wand. “Rennervate.”
Rowle’s eyes shot open as he gasped for air, panic overtaking him as his eyes frantically searched the room. Slapping him and then tightly gripping his face, Draco’s eyes darkened as he said, “It’s going to be a long night, Rowle. Do try your best to stay awake, I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the fun.”
A threatening grin crept its way across Draco’s lips as he turned his attention back to Rowle’s hand and proceeded to slowly remove each nail from his finger and then doing the same to his left hand.
Blood painted the floor around them as Draco utilised his extensive knowledge of how to severely injure an individual, while still keeping them alive. Every ten minutes Draco needed to use the reviving spell to keep Rowle awake and alert. Draco wanted him to feel every ounce of pain that was being inflicted on him. Draco wanted Rowle to look him in the eyes as he broke every bone in his leg and he wanted to hear his pathetic pleas as he burned the skin off his chest.
He wanted Rowle to know how it felt when Draco saw Hermione laying on the floor of the drawing room. He wanted him to feel just as helpless as he had when hearing her cries and not being able to do anything.
Most of all, Draco wanted to send a message.
He wanted his father, his aunt, the other Death Eaters and Voldemort, to know what would happen if they ever hurt Hermione.
~~~
After leaving the manor, and letting a disfigured Rowle go, Draco found himself sitting in the dark as he waited to take care of his final task of the night. Footsteps slowly grew louder as they approached the room and shortly, the door creaked open and the lights flicked on.
“Draco,” the man gasped as he attempted to collect himself.
“Tiberius,” Draco hummed as he continued to casually peel the apple in his hand with his knife. “You’ve been drinking, I can smell the firewhiskey on your breath all the way over here.”
“I don’t see how my drinking choices are of any concern to you,” Tiberius argued as he walked over to his desk and sat down.
“Usually it wouldn’t be. You’re a grown man, you’re allowed to take the edge off with a drink or four at the end of the day,” he replied as he looked up at Tiberius. “Except, you don’t just take the edge off. You get angry, violent even, and you come home and take it out on the one person who you know won’t fight back, your son.”
“I don’t know what you’re-”
“Don’t deny it,” Draco interrupted. “It would only be a waste of time. Don’t worry though, I’m not here to talk to you about your abusive tendencies, not entirely at least.”
“What are you here for then?” Tiberius asked as he folded his arms and leaned back into his chair.
“Theo told me that you plan on offering him as my replacement should I lose the Dark Lord’s trust.”
“That’s correct.”
“Considering I’ve just killed two of his men and mutilated a third, I’d say that time has come,” Draco casually said.
“Who were they,” Tiberius gulped, trying his best to hide any sign of fear.
Draco shook his head and got up to his feet. “The details don’t matter. What does matter is the fact that you now have the opportunity to turn Theo into a Death Eater. Unfortunately for you, I won’t be letting that happen.”
“You have no say in what I do with my son!” he shouted as he slammed his hands down onto the desk.
Driving the knife into his hand, Draco leaned into him and said, “You won’t have any say either if you’re dead.” Pushing up off of the desk and straightening his spine, Draco made his way around, dislodged the knife from his hand, gripped the back of the chair and spun Tiberius around to face him.
“I’ve grown quite bored of you and my father using us as pawns in your never-ending battle of the egos. Did you not get enough love growing up, Tiberius?” he said with mock sympathy. “Is that what’s caused you to become such a poor excuse for a father? Did your mummy not let you suck on her tit long enough as a child resulting in you becoming a pathetic alcoholic?”
“You’re a bastard,” Tiberius seethed.
“I wish. At least then my father would’ve had a valid reason to be such a prick.”
“You think that by killing me you’ll be saving Theodore? You think that he’ll be better off not becoming a Death Eater? It’s what he was raised to become, it’s in his blood.”
Draco let out a mocking chuckle. “You don’t know your son at all. That guy couldn’t even kill a fly. Trust me, I’ve seen him try, he nearly broke down at the mere thought. Just because you’re a heartless monster, doesn’t mean that he is too.”
“And what does that make you then?” he challenged. “Clearly you have no problem with killing. I guess that makes you just as evil as the rest of us.”
“That it does, which means I’m perfectly capable of doing what Theo had always wanted to do but never could. Don’t worry Tiberius, you’ll have Dolohov to keep you company in hell.”
Placing his hand around Tiberius’ throat, Draco tightened his grip before jerking his wrist, causing the bones in his neck to snap.