Honey Grace Oliva

Adhere Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are owned by JK Rowling what I only own is the green and gold nail polish I wore during typing this fanfic. Summary: Harry and Ron barely escaped with their lives when snatchers brought them to Malfoy Manor, with Dobby’s help and Hermione’s selfless sacrifice, they went on to find the remaining Horcuxes. They still worry for her safety though. The Dark Lord understanding that Harry Potter’s mudblood friend was the brains of their operation saw the potential of the girl as a bargaining tool and gave her to Draco to amuse him. DraMione set During the Horcrux hunt and War. Chapter 1 Snogging in a tent where you’ve been cooped up for months whilst fighting a Dark Lord is not conducive to romance. A certain wild haired, intelligent and beautiful witch demonstrated to her red-headed wizard the extent of her affection. Actions that left without a doubt showed how she loved this wizard and she chose him over all others who have been enamored of this witch. That made the red-head’s emotion soar, she did not choose the Foreign and exotic Quidditch Superstar that he idolized when he was still a young boy eons ago or the friendly but bumbling housemate that harbored a secret crush on her since first year. He even won against his best friend, the boy who lived, whom he surreptitiously envied because of his legendary and prominent status. The witch chose him. Ronald Weasely. The most unloved and overlooked son of seven siblings, who was so dirt poor everything he owns were hand me downs. Everything but this witch. But never tell her that. She hates being owned. Stupid muggle women empowerment belief! For him witches should stay in front of the hob cooking, or knitting, or in bed pleasing her man; but not before marriage though. In this thinking they were united. Though they had messed around with kisses and heavy petting, they haven’t had sex yet, they had to be married first for that; both of them totally old-fashioned in their beliefs and morals. Sighs and moans can be heard in their part of the tent as emotions soar, hands touched feverish skin and barely controlled pent up passion is felt by the witch and his wizard. “I love you Hermione, you know that right?” exhaled the red-head as the two came up for air after their snogging. “I know Ron, always.” Replied the witch smilingly, secured in the knowledge that her wizard finally, finally gave in to the ardor that she was waiting for, that slag Lavender forgotten in the deep recesses of her memory. “Ron! Hermione! I saw snatchers! They have found us! Greyback’s here, he must’ve been their tracker. Quick!” Harry shouted as they heard snuffling and rumblings of about half a dozen men. It was a mad scramble to get their things into Hermione’s charmed beaded-bag and charmed those that were left invisible as to not give any death-eaters any idea of what they have accomplished so far. Hermione hid the destroyed Slytherin Locket and transfigured it into a twig using a superior wand work learned from hours of pouring in to books at the Hogwart’s library for research, she knew that studying how to transfigure inanimate ancient dark object made of precious metal into seemingly harmless piece of wood would be handy soon. “Hermione now! Let’s go.” Was Ron’s frantic urging as he held on tight to her, afraid to let her go. It was startling to her that he still trusted her to apparate them out of trouble even though after that debacle in the Ministry of Magic a few months ago where he was splinched. Harry signaled them, worriedly shaking his head no. No they won’t be able to get out of here; they must have set up apparition wards, Hermione thought. So she trained her vinewood wand on her best-friend and uttered the last spell she was going to do for a long time, fingers tingling, sensing her magic as it flowed through the wands core and said, “Wivre Urtica.” Then everything went black. Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Malfoy Manor 6:00 pm The wards protecting the grand Manse quivered alerting the occupants inside who were tied by blood to the magic woven in and around the palatial abode. The incompetent man of the house paced agitatedly on the mirrored like sheen marble floors, his dragon hide boots giving a staccato beat to the tune of his pulsating heart, though everyone knew his is a shriveled organ known only to love and care for himself and the family name they boast of and respect the Dark Lord that lorded above them, it was not known that he loved very deeply indeed. He loves his wife, who as of now was quivering in the corner, afraid of her own shadow ever since that snake of a man made their stately home the headquarters of his beastly and uncouth minions. He also loves his son. His son whom he could never be more proud of, who in his absence was forced to grow up before his time and took on the mantle as the head of the family as he wallowed in prison after that debacle in the ministry of magic. His son whom he could not help but remorselessly feel proud of after presenting himself for a task so unimaginably undoable, just to protect his mother from being crucio’d within an inch of her sanity, with her cruel sister as the instigator. His son, who as of now comforts his mother the picture of a proud Slytherin boy content in the knowledge that in his veins run the purest of the pure of magical blood anywhere else in the land gone, his pride beaten, head hung low and jaws clenched tight anticipating more visitors to be shackled in the dungeon to accompany the daughter of the Quibbler’s editor, a goblin, a mudblood boy and the wand maker. He saw his son’s stately posture stiffen when he heard his aunt whispered “Get Draco,” to one of those filthy wanna be Death Eaters, the quiet whisper sounded like a holler in the hollowed lounge where the family gathered. Draco’s POV He noticed the snatchers bring in three bodies, alive but unconscious. One girl and two boys, he was afraid of that. Why is it that it was always these three who gets into trouble, and now he doesn’t know if he can save them. He doesn’t know that if someone with a soul as black as he has can even save anyone. Wow! I can’t believe that publishing my little ff garnered such a high views, thanks everyone. But please do review; it fuels us to do better, okay. And with that, because you had been so accommodating I’ll give you the second chapter sooner than you think, as a thank you. Also please visit my Amazon page as I have a book out, details to links are in my profile. If you want to read a dark and gritty YA try my book … Owned by Holly Grace, thank you! And this chapter has some scenes taken from Harry Potter in the Deathly Hollows when Snatchers brought them to Malfoy Manor. Enjoy! Chapter 2 "Draco, dear nevvy! Auntie has a little surprise for you." Bellatrix said in a singsong voice. The filthy, reeking, unwashed snatchers dropped their cargo like a sack of flour. Weasely whom I recognize easily by his distinctive red hair and hand me down clothes grunted as he was coming awake while Potter, I presumed it was Potter was never unconscious at all, always alert, ready to spring up and defend his friends. The sacrificing git! If he thought he could take on seven wizards with wands and a partially feral werewolf he can think again. It’ll only get him killed. As I look to the third one on the floor there was no question who she was. Mudblood Granger, as I so love to tease her. Only she had changed. Oh she still has that thick confused crown of hair, confused because it always never seem to make up its own mind, one day it would be dull brown, muddy brown as I like to call it, but when sunlight touches it gold flecks seems to weave in every strand, as if leprechauns were delighted with her and rained gold on her hair for appreciation. Or if twilight kisses her hair then it lends her hair a copper sheen … wait, hold that thought why am I composing a sonnet to Granger’s hair? Am I that desperate for female companionship or if I may crudely say shagging? I must admit I have been in a dry spell lately, no girls would dare go to the Manor now that The Dark Lord is in residence. Weasely’s irate eyes trained on me as if to challenge the way I look at his girlfriend. Newsflash Weaselking I can look at her anyway I want, it’s my house and you’re in my territory, granted there’s not much to look at. Granger’s been always petite, even more so when flanked by these bumbling idiots. But now, her petite physique were more pronounced, I can see her collar bones are more pronounced, also that ball like bone where the nape meets the high of your back is protruding, plus her hollowed cheekbones is more prominent. It was like she hasn’t eaten a descent meal in months. I hate for Granger if she lost that lovely cleavage too. Merlin! When I saw her at Slughorn’s party sixth year wearing that peach colored dress that lent her skin an intriguing golden glow, I wanted to snatch McLaggen’s hands that were clinging to her’s like a snurfallump plant and feed him to the giant squid… What am I thinking?! I shake my head and rebuilt my occlumency walls as I noticed Bellatrix was irritatingly repeating some question near my face. “Well?” she growled. “What?” I said nonchalantly. She trudged over to where Hermione was and kicked her awake, she groaned as she felt the brunt of my aunt’s pointed boot. “Stop! Don’t hurt her.” Cried Weasely. “Isn’t this Harry Potter’s Mudblood?” she asked me again. “I’m not sure, she looked different.” At my aunt’s disbelieving snort and Weasely’s relieved gasp, I felt Ganger’s hand grazed my shin. It sent an electric shiver down my spine. My aunt ‘s next target was the Weasel. Merlin! I hate him ever since first year, he always rubbed me raw. “How about him?” she asked as she forced Weasel to stand, “Isn’t this the Weasely boy, Potter’s friend and if he’s here then Potter isn’t too far is he?” I shrugged. She’s now facing what I guess was Potter but uglier than what was regular, his face full of what looked like bee stings and boils lending it a disfigured look. His trademark lightning distorted but still visible. “Well!?” she shouted as she paced agitatedly. “I’m not sure.” I saw her anger build, she’s closest to Granger, I knew she’s going to take her anger out on her. I heard a clanging of metal against the marble floor. Thank Merlin for uncouth idiots! My dear Aunt’s irate expression turned to the snatcher who was fascinated by the shiny sword he pulled from the bag, brandishing it in the air as it caught the dim light from the sconces. “Where did you get that?!” when the snatcher in question failed to respond to Bellatrix demand she took out her wand and chanted “Incarcerous!” while whip like ropes burst out lashing the cowering snatchers in the corner. “It’s mine mum, I gots it from these children, I keeps what I steals.” slurred the heavily accented snatcher. He barely finished telling his excuses when the green light of the killing curse hit him straight on the chest, snuffing his life instantly. That’s the scary thing about my aunt. She can strike you dead without a warning, only with a soul as black as hers can cast the unforgivable curses without uttering it aloud. So far I’ve only known three who can do that. Bellatrix, The Dark Lord, and I. What can I say I’ve been trained by the best; and with everything I’ve seen and did as a pledged Death Eater, forced to participate in muggle raids and mudblood persecutions by my aunt in replacement for my father who is now an inept wizard ever since The Dark Lord confiscated his wand and broke it from fighting Potter. With each day spent in their midst I fear I cannot make myself clean again. ++++++++ A/N I have always been fascinated by Draco even from the early Harry Potter books. His character came off as two dimensional at first; the spoiled rich boy every good guy loves to hate. But in GOF he warned the trio when the resurrected Death Eaters made a sport of the muggle family in the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione of course is a no-brainer, I adore her. A feisty intelligent girl who was not without fault and can lie with a straight face (i.e. Troll in the ladies room and with Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad), who wouldn’t want to be like her? I’ve been a Dramione shipper ever since that first slap (yes, slap not punch) but who am I to question the Queen (I just play with her characters in my head). JKR’s created a fantasy world where children could be whoever they want to be and now that I’ve grown up, I still wish I was that eleven year old child getting her Hogwarts Acceptance Letter by Owl. Chapter 3 Same Disclaimer: HP is not mine, I just love shipping Hermione’ and Draco together and wished it were true. Hhhhhhhhhhhhh Hermione’s POV I was hit by a rogue Stupefy meant for Harry as I turned the Stinging hex on him. I communicated quickly that he should pretend to be hit by the spell too. If he was awake then we might have a chance after all. The last thing I heard was Ron battling it out with two snatchers while trying to get to me. Ah, my brave knight. I prayed to Merlin hard that night that if ever this was the last time I breathe on this earth, to spare him and let him live a full life. He and Harry both, for I love them both deeply and equally, one as my brother and one as the man I want to spend my whole life with. I came to, landing hard on the cold marble black floor with intricate silver snake design. No question, I must be in a home of a wealthy Slytherin. Hah! Figures. I heard a woman’s high-pitched raspy voice asking someone something. When I am hit with a spell, makes it harder for me to be set to rights now. It all started with me being hit with Antonin Dolohov’s unknown and devastating spell at the battle of the Department of Mysteries. Though the spell did not give a physical sign of damage on the wizard or witch it was used on, all injuries are found internally. If I had not been quick enough and uttered a silencing charm on him, I could be dead by now as the non-verbal version must not have been as powerful as if it was uttered aloud. The Death Eater might not have been successful in killing me, but for months onward I had wished I was, I know it’s blasphemy and a sin to wish yourself dead, but every time my insides hurt and burn before I drink ten different potions was the most painful I’ve felt ever, also having had to swallow ten different potions in a given specific time was just revolting. I heard someone answer the woman. It was a boy, the voice seemed familiar but I didn’t catch-up what his monosyllabic reply was. Suddenly I felt the woman’s pointed toed boots hit my torso as she deliberately kicked me, Ron’s vexed shout was deafening in the cavern like hall. “I’m not sure, she looked different.” Now I know whom the voice belonged to. It was Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. I should have known, his hurtful taunts forever etched in my unfailing memory. When you grew up with a bully’s insults and ridicule, your being in his immediate presence is an affront to his person and attacks you with gibes and criticism; it’s hard to forget who flayed you with every strike of his tongue. I used to feel hurt as to why this boy was always goading me with insults but as time wore on his jeering rolled off my skin and left me numb. Besides I dished out the best revenge of all, I got to slap his smug ferrety face our third year. I gingerly stretched my fingers and arm, it felt sore and I knew I must have sprained it when I landed at an odd angle. The snatchers must not have cared how they hauled and dropped me, why would they? To them I’m just a mudblood after all. My fingers touched a luxurious fabric, maybe a sock? As I trailed further downwards, buffed leather encountered my skin. It must be a shoe. Merlin! Malfoy’s too close! I heard a commotion; Bellatrix was now insisting that we were the so called Golden Trio, that she beheld Harry Potter. What surprised me was Draco’s negative supposition. What good could he gain from not giving us away? My disguise of Harry under those stings were good, but when you spent almost seven years with someone, having classes with them, eating with them in the great hall and fighting with them on a daily basis; no matter what good a camouflage you have on unless it’s an all out Polyjuice Potion then it won’t work. Not unless he had an ulterior motive to not giving us up. Of course we learned not to trust a Slytherin, case in point when Professor Snape killed Headmaster Dumbledore. I heard someone land with a thud and a clang on the floor. As I slowly opened my eyes I saw one of the snatchers being dragged by his mates outside and left, leaving the ancient and powerful Sword of Gryffindor prominently displayed and out of my bag. Cripes! We’re in big trouble. I just knew being in a house full of Snakes can never bode well for us *A/N* I always had this theory that Hermione being hit with Dolohov’s spell prepared her for the hurt the Cruciatus curse that Bellatrix turned on her when she interrogated Hermione at Malfoy Manor. It made her pain threshold higher than average as she did not break under it unlike any other ordinary witch or wizard. That makes her awesome in my book! Yay for Hermione! Chapter 4 Hermione’s POV I came to my senses, completely awake now that my wits are telling me that we are in grave danger. “That sword! Where did you get it?!” Bellatrix screeched as she crouched down and pulled me by the hair. I could feel her talon like finger nails braking my scalp as she held my head up, making me look at Ron and Harry’s battered faces, thank Merlin! Harry’s disguise still held. Upon my calculation we only have about two hours until his face will return to normal. I’m not counting on anyone rescuing us, the thought is preposterous. But if anyone in the Universe out there who can hear my thoughts, please save them. the wizarding world needs Harry, to finally defeat the evil Voldemort has wrought. And Harry needs Ron after I’m gone, if I didn’t survive this, Bellatrix’s hatred of my kind is not a secret. I know Harry’s guilt would forever be a wall to forgiving himself if anything happens to me, Ron might help to ease it. They can be each other’s rock when I’m gone. It may sound morbid to anyone who can hear my thoughts, but on account of me being a mudblood in a violent pure blooded witch’s clutches is not looking favorably for me. “Wormtail! Put the boys in the cellar! While I have chat with this one, girl to girl!” Ron’s erstwhile rat Scabbers, who turned out to be one of Harry’s father’s close friend who betrayed them scurried like the vermin he is and courageously trained his wand on Ron and Harry. Ron was struggling, he didn’t want to leave me behind, I nodded at Harry quietly, gesturing to him that I would be okay, to be strong for him and Ron, to be complaisant just this once for I don’t want them to acquire Bellatrix’s wrath too. With just one look at Harry, I promised I wouldn’t break. Ron and Harry never broke eye contact with me until they were forced to go down to the dungeons and I never left my eyes on them until all I could see was Wormtail’s fluffed grey hair. Bellatrix suddenly pushed me down to the floor, she cackled at my sudden intake of breath as my back landed with a resounding thud, the onset of feeling cowardly just took a hold of me and sunk it’s teeth unto psyche. I visibly shook it off. Gryffindor courage don’t fail me now. “Filthy mudblood how did you get the sword out of my vault!?” Bellatrix now on the floor crouched on my passive form, brandished a sharp looking dagger with an onyx hilt carved with snakes and skulls, the silver blade glinting menacingly under the soft hue of the lamps. While I track the movement of the dagger as she danced it in front of my face, I caught a movement from my left. Malfoy’s almost silver blonde hair shone like a beacon. It drew my eyes to him, able to drown out Bellatrix’s threatening query. He was also staring at me unblinkingly; his eyes glowed like the metal of the dagger his aunt boasted. His countenance masked a repentant expression. No matter how much he hides it, Draco is not yet a full pledged death eater like his aunt. He is not a killer. Not yet. I saw Malfoy’s jaw clench before I felt Bellatrix’s resounding slap. The sound ricocheted like a gunshot, his shoulder shook unnoticeably. “Impertinent Girl! Crucio!” the pain was unlike any other that I have felt, I thought being hit by Dolohov’s curse was bad, this was ten times more worst than before. Where it was like a dull throb this was a screaming pain… I tried to stick my tongue in the roof of my mouth lest my gnashing teeth bit it in half, my eyes rolled from the pain and my nails broke as I dug my fingers on the cold hard floor. It was mere seconds ago but it felt like an hour has passed. The ringing in my ears never ceased like the roaring of an emergency siren intensified by the solemn surrounding. “Maybe now, you’ll answer me, huh mudblood!” “No, please, we found it!” I barely uttered the last word when her nonverbal crucio landed on me. I hadn’t had time to prepare like the last time; it came like a thief, without warning. I wheezed what little breath I had left, shakily I turned on my left side protecting the most sore part of my body. It was then that I saw Draco, being gripped in the shoulders by his father, Draco’s elaborate suit creased by the ferocity of his father’s hold on him. It was as if Mr. Malfoy knew that his son, if given a choice and slight push of courage would help someone as low as me. Twice more, Bellatrix trained her wand on me. Twice more she repeated the torture curse that rendered Neville’s parents mad. The resounding question in my head is, how much further I can take before I become like them. “Oooh, you’re a tough one!” Bellatrix chided as she ended the unforgivable curse. “Maybe I may have to resort to a more bloody approach.” “No, No!” I screamed as I felt the sharp dagger pierce my skin. “Look Draco! The mudblood squealed like a stuck pig, like the animal she is!” boasted Bellatrix as I saw Draco’s eyes widen. His aunt admired the hastily scrawled M carved on my left forearm. “Look! Isn’t it pretty? Just like branding a slave, except you’re lower than one. Ha ha ha!” she cackled maniacally. “Bella enough of that! You’re ruining the floor.” Said a gentle and cultured voice on my right, she was what I presumed to be Draco’s mother, only the last time I saw her she was with Draco at Madam Malkin’s. She carried herself with the comportment of a woman born of wealth and royalty back then, now she resembled a bird with her wings tightly wrapped around herself lest she be carried away by the wind and knock her down. “What? I’m having too much fun Cissy. Don’t be like poor sour grapes Lucius over there, without a wand and can’t join in the fun. Now, how about you my handsome nevvy? Hmm? Want to help Auntie Bella torture a mudblood?” she taunted the Malfoy’s as she pointed at my inert form on the floor. I saw Draco waver as Bellatrix trained her crazy black eyes on him. No, please not him. I saw Draco audibly swallow, as if he could not clear his air passages enough to take a breath and get more air into his lungs. Draco’s hands quivered as he drew his wand and it did not go unnoticed by Bellatrix. “Figures, you’re a coward like your father!” her crucio hit me straight on. This was the hardest by far, maybe fueled by her disgust of her nephew. At last the curse let on. Now I just feel numb, I cannot feel the hard floor, or how thick the blood coated my fingers as I gingerly unclenched it from my ravaged palms. I felt like I was floating on thick air, cradling me like a babe embraced by a mother’s arm. Is this what madness felt like? “Summon the Goblin!” Bellatrix screeched. “Maybe I can get more decent answers from him.” *A/N* Hello again everyone! This part was a tough chapter for me to write. It was tough reading it in HP7, tougher than when I watched the movie. But this took the cake—I was sobbing by the end of this chapter while pulling my hair. Why did I agreed to write this?! Bad DraMione! Now, maybe in the coming days or weeks I might not be able to update quite often as I am writing 2WIP to pass on Amazon. I hope I can finish it in time… this is me totally procrastinating. If you want you can visit my fb author page and like it too. Writing this ff is a form of my loveletter to the HP fandom. Mwahh! Chapter 5 Disclaimer: I Don’t own HP, JKR does. If I did then Dobby would have lived T.T “I assure you that the sword is a fake. I should know, my people forged the real one.” Thankfully the goblin lied. I don’t know how Harry and Ron did it, but maybe it involved some kind of negotiation. Goblins never do things for altruistic means. Especially if it meant them getting hurt or even pay with their lives. I saw the blood trickle on Griphook’s cheek as Bellatrix used the same knife she carved my arm with the word mudblood . When he got to the room he glanced at me indifferently, never communicating that he was lying in collusion with Harry. My insides hurt and my muscles tremble as the after effects of the crucio wracked my tortured body. When on the throes of the curse it felt like a thousand needles were slowly, centimeter by centimeter punctured my nerve endings while hot wax are being poured on my dermis. I could not stand, though how much I command my legs to move all I feel is unresponsive appendages twisting and cramping. I suddenly heard a commotion on the side, Harry and Ron with both wands drawn pointed at Bellatrix. “Expelliarmus!” yelled Ron as it blasted a surprised Bellatrix to the wall and her wand went to Ron’s outstretched hand. “Hermione! You okay?” he asked as he helped me up effortlessly. I felt how Ron had grown in the past few months, once scrawny arms which I helped propped up when we were in the shrieking shack our third year now gave way to sturdy muscles. I just nodded wordlessly as my throat hurt to speak after all the external and internal screams I did. I saw Draco’s father pushed him to fight Harry as he was quite distracted worrying about me too, I wanted to warn Harry but there was no need, it was as if instinct drove him to protect himself as he let out his favorite spell, “Expelliarmus!” he didn’t caught Malfoy’s wand though seeing as he dove for it knocking the wand sideways. Both Harry and Malfoy fought for the wand but what amazed me was when it looked like Malfoy was winning he knocked the wand nearer to Harry who quickly took it. I observed Draco wasn’t even regretful as Harry now beheld his Hawthorn wand. “Call him! Call Him now!” I heard Bellatrix screech as she glared at Mr. Malfoy and Draco, “Look, it’s Potter all Shiny and new again. My Lord would be pleased!” Before Lucius could tap his dark mark the ancient chandelier came crashing down as Dobby released it. “Stupid elf! You could have killed me!” When Dobby explained that he wasn’t trying to kill them but only to hurt or maim; Draco’s Mother, Narcissa, in a fit to defend her family trained her wand on Harry but Dobby quickly expelled her wand. That made Bellatrix madder screaming that filthy elves doesn’t have the right to do that to their mistresses. Lucius now gaining his senses rolled his sleeve and tapped his Dark Mark tattoo to call his Master, Bellatrix cackling in the corner prepared to throw her knife at Dobby to prevent them from apparating from the Manor to safety. As I saw this I knew what I had to do. Facing Ron and Harry for a second, I told them quietly. “I love you both. Be safe.” as I shielded Dobby from the flying projectile. The last thing I heard was the crack of apparition and the boy’s shouts of No! Chapter 6 Disclaimer : I don’t own Harry Potter JKR does… if I did Dramione would have happened 19 years later. Although I rejoiced the fact that Harry would be safe and save the world I have come to love and call as my own, I can’t help but feel my Gryffindor courage leave me in every blood that I drop on the Malfoy’s floor. Bellatrix’s howl of humiliation reverberated in the walls of the hall, her foot kept hitting the floor just like a spoiled schoolgirl deprived of her toy. Hah! Even scary Death Eater generals show their crazy immature self sometimes. Her gaze caught my floundering stance and approached me menacingly. “You! this is all your fault you filthy mudblood! I could have delivered Potter to my Lord now, enjoying himself when he reunites with his family. But no-ow! You had to foil my plans!” she shouted and unsheathes the her dagger none too gently from my shoulder. She would have stabbed me anywhere where the knife lands on my body if not for Mr. Malfoy’s timely intervention. “Now, now Bella. It doesn’t do us any good in killing the mudblood.” His unsympathetic gaze traveled over me. “We can still use her. She’s one of the closest people to Potter after all.” “Hmp. You’re lucky you filth, my soft-hearted brother in-law wants to spare you. Now that I think about it, it is better that we let you live. My Lord would be proud of us Lucius,’” turning to Draco’s father. “ensnaring Harry Potter’s mudblood. Nephew why don’t you look after it while we call for Our Lord?” Bellatrix giggled girlishly, excited at the prospect of offering me up as a consolation of not catching Harry for Voldemort to finish. I shivered as I contemplated on my fate. I saw Draco’s masked compassion after I scrutinized it hiding beneath a layer of apathy. He must be using occlumency for anyone to not read whatever is in his mind and outward sentiments. His fingers twitched a little, as if masking his gesture of wanting to help me as he saw me in pain because of my injured shoulder. I shivered again for I felt cold, an indication of low blood sugar and blood loss. My light blue denim jumper is stained red and Draco’s eyes are focused on my injury. Bellatrix and Lucius are in a huddle in the corner, debating as to what excuses they would convey to their Dark Lord as to why they haven’t got Harry Potter in their grasp. Draco caught where my attention was and I saw his lips twitch upwards, forcing to hide that smirk he was so famous for in school. I don’t know why he would have felt that this is a moment that necessitated humor. My hopeful heart tells me that he might be finding some hilarity at the thought that his father and aunt which are esteemed Death Eaters, among Voldemort’s immediate higher ranks should fall from grace but my logical mind tells me that it should not be. For he was assuredly also a Death Eater. He despises mudbloods like me. Why would he be rejoicing at his aunt’s and father’s gaffe? Suddenly the air around us has taken on a heavy and viscous feel. It’s as if the oxygen in the air is slowly being sucked up and my lungs are in agony trying to catch my breath. I saw Draco’s eyes widen and took on a vulnerable expression. He never took his eyes upon me, not even to look at his aunt preening like a sex starved alley cat intent on snagging her tom. I saw his father fiddle with his walking stick and his mother twisting the pristine white lace handkerchief in her small dainty hands. Only the crack of apparition signaled His arrival. Nasally uttered reedy voice asked, “Well Lucius, what have you got for me?” Chapter 6 Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does. If I did then I wouldn’t be writing DraMione fanfiction, I would have made it a reality :P Last Chapter: I saw Draco’s eyes widen and took on a vulnerable expression. He never took his eyes upon me, not even to look at his aunt preening like a sex starved alley cat intent on snagging her tom. I saw his father fiddle with his walking stick and his mother twisting the pristine white lace handkerchief in her small dainty hands. Only the crack of apparition signaled His arrival. Nasally uttered reedy voice asked, “Well Lucius, what have you got for me?” Now: “I heard you caught me some kittens masquerading as lions, Lucius. Have you extended them a welcoming stay? I hope their lodgings were… up to Malfoy standards. I would hate for Potter and his helpful little group of rebels feel quite unwelcome.” Voldemort’s voice droned on nasally, I don’t’ doubt that if Harry and Ron did not manage to escape that they would live within the hour. Voldemort’s black heart would kill them without remorse, better that they escape. Better that I have been the one left, going with Harry with this war I never expected to live quite honestly. I saw Lucius gulp quite audibly, if I wasn’t hurting so much I would laugh at their situation. My my, how would Mr. Malfoy get out of this unscathed I wouldn’t know. “You see my Lord…” he began. Voldemort sensing a long winded flowery excuse, raised his hand as a signal to silence him. “I doubt if I see at all Lucius, I was not here.” Voldemort said mockingly. “My Lord, we caught Harry Potter and his friends…” “Really? Where is he now?” “He escaped my Lord.” “You mean to say Lucius that you have Potter in your grasp,” Voldemort condescendingly volunteered, while circling him slowly. It reminded me of a shark television premier I saw last year, that’s what it did before it pounced on an unsuspecting baby seal and ate it whole. “AND LET HIM ESCAPE! CRUCIO!” Mr. Malfoy soundlessly writhed on the floor of his impeccable manor, he fainted as a result of the excruciating curse, hmp… wimp. His wife whimpered on the sides while his deranged sister-in-law snickered in the corner. “Oh, Bella don’t you think for a second I forgot about you, you know I hold you in the best esteem, my most ferocious general. I left you in charge of my London operation when I was getting some valuable information overseas and this is what I was given in return?! An empty dungeon with no trace of Harry Potter! WHO KNOWS THEY COULD BE HALFWAY AT FINDING MY SECRET TO IMMORTALITY BY NOW!” he screeched. I forced what I’ve known about his weaknesses inside an impenetrable shield in my head. I would defend the knowledge that Ron had destroyed his locket with the Gryffindor sword. I would die first before giving the information up. “Forgive me my Lord! But we are not entirely without something to show you, you see we have a bargaining chip. One of Harry Potter’s best friends, his mudblood now resides with us. Look.” She proudly pointed to my huddled form. “Ah! I see your wonderful handiwork my Bella,” Voldemort said while affectionately caressing Bellatrix’s cheek. “You amaze me as always. Have you made her suffer one of your favorite curses, I hope you haven’t broken her yet, or we won’t have much of a bargaining chip.” “You won’t win. Harry knows what he must do, if it takes for him to sacrifice me he will.” I confidently said albeit my voice came out as a reedy whisper. “Silence mudblood!” Bellatrix affronted that a mudblood dared to speak up in the presence of her Lord, brandished her wand and got ready to curse me again. I saw Draco flinch in the corner. He knows that things would not bode well for me, especially now that their Lord has come home. But I I was resolved to my fate. Let me be the instrument to make Harry fight onwards, let my death fuel his anger