𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟕 - 𝟗

Scabior smiled. "I must be right, because I see lots of Galleons in our future."

They all laughed cruelly, and then all of a sudden I was Apparating again without warning. My throat burned, my lungs screamed, and I took another hard landing to my injured leg as we appeared in yet another forest. I found myself promising that if I saw another tree in at least the next twenty years, I was going to scream.

The Snatcher holding me was basically keeping me upright, and I was letting my heavy eyelids flutter closed when I heard a Hermione-like gasp. Then a Weasley-like shaky exhale. Then a Potter-like sob of relief. I managed to slowly lift my head up—that I hadn't even realized had been resting on my chest—and I met Potter's eyes.

His face had so many emotions on it, it was almost unreadable. There was relief, anger, panic, horror, and blood spattered across his cheek. Judging by the worry that was now clouding around his eyes to compliment everything else, I had more than a few freckles of blood on me.

I tried to tell him that I was fine, and that my leg looked a lot worse then it felt even if that was a lie, and that even though I've probably looked better, we weren't separated anymore and that was all that mattered.

But maybe it would have been better to stay separated for just a little bit longer, because the second all seven of the Snatchers saw the four of us together, the missing pieces clicked into place.

"You lied to us," the tall one grumbled, coming over to me and yanking my chin towards him. Potter shouted something, but was immediately muffled. "You're no Clearwater. You are the runaway Malfoy."

"What can I say?" I managed to get out. "I'm a con artist."

The tall one nodded to the big one, and the big one slapped me across the face. A scream slipped out of Hermione, and there was grunting off to the side, like someone was struggling against someone else. I kept my lips pressed together tightly, maybe so I wouldn't cry.

The tall one straightened again, looking down at me with an ugly grin, before turning back to the Snatcher Scabior. "Let's go," he said impatiently.

I got one last good look at Potter being restrained by two Snatchers—one on either arm—before I was sucked into more terrible Apparation.

I don't know what I expected when my feet found ground again, but it certainly wasn't Malfoy Manor. My entire body went numb.

The last time I saw this house was the summer before sixth year, when Dumbledore and Potter had come to take me to the Burrow. Even though it was pitch black outside, I could make out the hidden edges and pointed turrets from memory. The wrought iron gate swirled into view in front of us, and as we got closer the shape of a woman appeared on the other side.

The Snatcher Scabior, who was holding Potter, shoved him into the metal. The woman came closer, until a sliver of moonlight fell across her. My Aunt Bellatrix put her face against the gate, and when Scabior brushed Potter's hair away from his forehead to reveal the scar, she smiled horribly.

The gates disappeared with a soft hiss, like wind blowing through a tree, and I was pushed forward. The pain in my leg had died down to a dull ache, but I was still having more trouble walking than what I figured was okay. It had to be broken.

I vaguely registered stumbling through the intimidating front doors, following Bellatrix into the drawing room, and then coming to a stop so suddenly I fell back against the Snatcher holding me. He chuckled and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. I weakly tried to rip away from him.

That was when I heard a woman's sob. It was a sob I'd heard too many times in the middle of the night. A sob that was usually followed by bruised skin. A sob that Draco and I had spent our entire childhood ignoring, because we were both far too scared of our father to bring it up.