“Draco, move this scum outside,” Bellatrix told him, referring to the unconscious men she had just stunned in her hysteria to find out where they had taken the sword from. Draco glanced quickly at them, revulsion pulsing through him, then back at the Trio. Potter, Weasley and Granger were all in his home “ he knew that “ but he feared what would happen if his father, his mother and Bellatrix knew. They had already jumped to the very true conclusion that they were, in fact, Potter, Weasley and Granger, but Draco himself would not be able to hold it in his conscious if he turned them in.
Sensing his slight hesitation, Bellatrix addressed him again. “If you haven’t got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me.”
Draco heard his mother protest against his aunt for her harshness towards him. Draco didn’t care about rudeness at a crucial moment like this. Would the Dark Lord be coming any moment? Would he be able to sense Draco’s fear and longing for withdrawal from the Death Eaters? He shook his head and quickly moved towards the two unconscious Snatchers.
Flicking them upwards with his wand, he began walking towards the courtyard. Bellatrix’s words rang in his ears: If you haven’t got the guts to finish them…
Do I? Draco thought, eyeing the two, large unconscious men, hovering before him. Do I have the guts?
Reaching the courtyard, Draco slashed his wand through the night air and let them fall upon the cement. He raised his wand again, asking himself, Do I have the guts?
Yes, he tried to reassure himself, I do. I’m capable. I can do anything.
He raised his fallen arm, pointed it at one of the unconscious men, and held it there. His wand shook in his shivering, fearful grip. He couldn’t do it, and Dumbledore’s words flew into his mind. You are not a killer, Draco. Rage gripped him, and he raised his wand again.Two words, he thought, his arm shaking more than ever, two words!
But they would not come. He couldn’t bring himself to utter those two deathly words, the words he was forced to listen to almost all the time since his Manor had taken the place of headquarters. The two words the Dark Lord was sure to use on him in the near future, once he sensed his non-commitment; the two words the Dark Lord would surely place upon his family one day soon; the two words that would end life forever.
He couldn’t do it. He was not a killer. Something about the two unconscious bodies - unable to fight for themselves, breathing in peaceful serenity and unknowing - being struck at completely sickened him. They had no means of defense; how could he kill them?
He grunted and turned on his heel, quickly walking back to where all the commotion was. A raspy, deathly voice echoed in a near passageway: "Reckon she’ll let me have a bit of the girl when she’s finished with her?" Draco cringed at the sound of Greyback’s churning voice, trying to decipher what he meant. What girl? Draco pitied whichever girl he thought of; if Greyback wanted her, she was doomed.
Granger. The thought hit him with surprising fact, and his stomach flopped. The cold hand of fear gripped his throat; Granger was with his Aunt Bellatrix. Nothing good could come from that situation, nothing good at all.
Granger, he thought again, quickening his pace towards the main room. Fear lingered solemnly in his eyes, anxiousness boxed him in.
There sat Granger, in the middle of his drawing room, shoved harshly onto the ground before his Aunt. Her hair was disgruntled; her eyes flickering towards the passage Potter and Weasley had just gone through.
Granger! Draco thought again, his heart stabbed as he saw her weakened state. Draco knew that this was just the start of her pain, yet he couldn’t bare to watch “ not Granger, not someone just as young and undeserving as he, not someone whom he had spent Hogwarts days with. He prayed silently to the heavens as he slipped closer into Granger’s line of vision that she would not spot him, grazing dangerously through the shadows and secrets of turning his head away from the wrongdoing.
But Draco was not so lucky; his eyes, in a fleeting moment before Bellatrix’s screech filled the air, got tangled in her murky brown ones. She seemed so lost without her two friends; Draco could relate. He hadn’t seen Crabbe and Goyle for days; he felt like he was dropped into darkness without his companions (however stupid they may be, Draco thought,) by his side.
Silently, her eyes seemed to plead with his. He could only guess that she wanted escape from her predicament, and to be reunited with Potter and Weasley.
Didn’t she see that that was the exact same thing he, Draco, wanted too? He wanted to get out, to be far, far away from what was about to happen, and what had been happening because of the Dark Lord. But he couldn’t. He was just as trapped as she was.
“Mudblood,” Bellatrix’s voice broke Draco’s gaze from Granger’s. Her icy tone drifted throughout the room, having almost the same affect as a Dementor. His blood chilled, though somehow intensifying and quickening as Hermione’s eyes flickered between Bellatrix and himself, wondering with fear what would happen next.
“You can make this easy on yourself,” Bellatrix raised one arm in a mock sign of peace, “or hard.” She raised her wand hand threateningly, her eyes chilling over into a pit of undecipherable darkness. Draco inwardly knew that there would only be one option that Granger would take “ she was loyal, strong, and stubborn. She would not cave.
Draco felt a small hope slither its way inside him, and fought the urge to smirk when Hermione simply raised an eyebrow, and cocked her head silently.
Bellatrix’s fingers tightened around her wand in anger. Draco could just imagine her eyes narrowing in disdain.
“Where did you get this sword?” asked Bellatrix, her tone accusatory and hateful. Draco noticed a flash of fear splattered through Granger’s face, quickly replaced by feigned innocence and confusion. Deep inside him, he acknowledged her ability to act under pressure, and found himself somewhat hoping for her triumph.
“No words, hmm?” Bellatrix rounded upon Granger with her wand, pointing it directly at her throat. “This should soften you up! Crucio!”
Suddenly, Granger writhed and trashed with pain. Her screams pierced the air and Draco felt them pierce his heart. Stop! He pleaded inwardly to his aunt. Please, stop!
As if obeying his unheard wish, Bellatrix lifted the curse.
“I’m going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?” Bellatrix shouted, growing impatient and fearful of the truth.
“We found it “ we found it “ PLEASE!” Granger pleaded, seeing Bellatrix raise her wand again when she sensed the lie. Draco felt himself close his eyes, trying to shield them. Once again, her screams filled the air, and Draco couldn’t take it. He wanted to help her “ he needed to help her.
“Hermione!” He whispered into the air, his words blocked out by her painful screams. He tried to reach her, to comfort her, but his mother sensed it. Hermione collapsed in a heap on the old carpet, but Narcissa held Draco back. Draco spared his mother a glance. She looked at him; her eyes were also pained, but she did not allow him to advance forwards.
“You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!” Bellatrix intensified the curse, and Hermione’s screams amplified once more. He felt himself drowning in them, drowning in deafness and hopelessness; but he had to help her… he had to…
“What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth, or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife”!
Hermione shot a fleeting glance at the knife, at Bellatrix, and at Draco. Tears spilled down her cheeks, the pain finally getting to her. Sensing no other route, she simply shook her head at Bellatrix.
“What else did you take, what else?” Bellatrix bellowed at Hermione’s crumpling form. Again, she shook her head. “ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!”
Draco felt her lone screams vibrate through him, through the walls of the great Manor. He tried to take in a deep breath, but felt suffocated by the impurity of air “ her screams were the air, drifting, floating, dying. “Hermione…”
“How did you get into my vault?” Hysteria etched itself into Bellatrix’s harsh tones. “Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?”
“We only met him tonight! We’ve never been inside your vault… It isn’t the real sword! It’s a copy, just a copy!”
Hermione’s hopelessness was quite apparent to Draco, who found himself closing his eyes and loosing himself with her voice. Her cracked, whimpering voice, forced into his mind.
Suddenly, he heard his father address him, telling him to go fetch the goblin. Draco nodded, afraid that his voice would give away his pain for Hermione.
Quickly making way to the deserted and dark hallway near the cellar, he fell against the wall. His back slid down the harsh cement, creating scratches and scars Draco didn’t care about. He couldn’t do this anymore. He felt himself breaking, hoping Hermione would live and be all right, as a tear slid down his pale cheek. Taking a shuddering breath, he wiped it, and walked onwards.
“Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don’t try anything, or I’ll kill you!”
Draco could hear his voice shaking in the darkness. He retrieved the goblin, and shot him forwards, to where Hermione lay whimpering, recovering from her last attack. To see her like that, so frail, so weak; it pained him to make the contrast between her normal, firey self. He much preferred the snappy Granger, who detested him and shot comebacks towards him, to this one, who shot only weak glances of desperation.
Draco’s eyes met hers again, and he tried to somehow reassure her that she’d be okay. But would she? Would she live to defeat the Dark Lord with Potter and Weasley, as everyone so feared she would?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard a loud, echoing crack. Were Potter and Weasley going to save her? He could only hope the sound went unnoticed. Unfortunately, Lucius sent down Wormtail to discover the noise, leaving Draco to painfully watch the show before him.
The conversation between the elf and his aunt fell deaf upon his ears. He stared hopefully, somewhat longingly, towards Hermione’s shivering form. Small relief fell through him when he saw her chest heaving; she was breathing. She was alive.
In a distant corner of his mind, he heard a screeching "NOOOOO!” bellow from the door. Weasley had shot in, along with Potter. Draco cast a fleeting look at Hermione, unnoticed by the commotion. She met his gaze, and he tried to mentally tell her, You’re going to be okay.
Screams in the Night by Sarakime
Chapter Notes: Thanks a million to Elle/Sly Severus for betaing this for me!
This was written for the OWL Romance Class Week 5 Task.
Disclaimer: Most of the italics, if they are speech, are taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. They're JKR's, not mine!