a/n- i wrote this whole thing in less than a day because ive been home feeling super sick so hopefully its not too incoherent! sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter, hopefully this'll make up for it<3
I had felt more fear over the course of my sixth year than I had felt in the previous years of Hogwarts combined, but I'd never felt fear quite like this. I felt frozen, like even my very blood had stopped thrumming through my veins, as Bellatrix strode towards Draco and I.
My heart was pounding so hard it hurt, my hands were shaking, and my knees felt like jelly. Bellatrix's eyes were practically black, they were so dark, and her skin was pale, making the bruises underneath her eyes stand out like a neon sign. Her teeth were crooked, yellow, as if she'd been a smoker for years on end, and her nails were cracked and sharp.
And of course, on her arm, tattooed in dark ink, was the Dark Mark.
I was trying to think of what to do, but the terror that was pounding in my chest was making it impossible to think. There was no way I could take on Bellatrix by myself, and even with Draco, we'd likely end up dead sooner than we'd end up victorious. Draco hadn't answered his...his cousin, apparently, and I was hoping that she hadn't heard what I had told Draco right before she appeared.
Draco was already in danger of being labeled as a traitor and as a failure, and I was certain that even being told by someone like me that he was loved was one step closer to that. If she had heard, Bellatrix didn't say anything. Instead, she cocked her head at her cousin, her pile of messy hair falling loosely around her gaunt face.
"Come, nephew. You know the Dark Lord doesn't like to be kept waiting," she scolded. "Grab the girl, and we'll return to the manor. Our plans can wait a few days, I'm sure. Oh, how my lord is going to reward me!" Bellatrix said joyously.
Bellatrix turned, heading towards the cabinet. I longed for Draco just to look at me, so I could at least feel slightly comforted, but all he did was grab my hand and pull me forward. He squeezed it tightly for a moment, as if he were telling me he was there.
It helped, but not nearly enough. I didn't...I didn't feel betrayed. What was he going to do, directly defy someone who worked so closely with Voldemort? I wouldn't have expected him to, no matter what our relationship was. That would've sealed our fate quicker than I could've blinked.
No, he had to obey, and I had to go along with him. We'd...we'd figure something out.
Right?
Draco shut the cabinet door behind me, immersing us in suffocating darkness. I waited to feel something, but it just felt like we were standing in a wardrobe for a few moments before Draco muttered something and opened the door once more.
We weren't in the Room of Requirement anymore, though. Draco pushed me out in front of him, making me step out into the dimly lit, faintly musty-smelling shop that we had appeared in. The shelves were lined with faerie skulls and wicked-looking weapons and cards drenched in dried blood and practically every other bit of dark magic or cursed item you could think of.
I decided rather quickly I didn't care much for this shop.
I had no idea where we were, but Draco and Bellatrix clearly did. The shop owner dipped his head to them reverently before disappearing to the back room, leaving the three of us alone.
"Draco, you know how to Apparate, yes?" Bellatrix asked.
Draco nodded, much to my surprise. That was magic we weren't supposed to learn until our seventh year, if we learned it at all.
"You take the girl, then. I'd rather not risk splinching myself for a Mudblood," Bellatrix sneered, taunting me. "See you at the manor, dear cousin," Bellatrix called out as she Disapparated.
The moment she was gone, my shoulders sagged as I let my fear wrap around me. I took a shuddering breath, one that I was trying to keep steady, but my chest was seizing with anxiety as I realized that in a few short minutes, I was going to be face to face with Voldemort.
I could very well not live to see the end of the day. In fact, it was more likely than not that I wouldn't make it out of the manor, wherever that was, alive.
Draco wasn't oblivious to my state, but he kept a stony demeanor as he turned me towards him. "We have to go soon, or they'll get suspicious, but I'm going to get you out of this okay? I'm going to-you'll be okay, alright?"
His words, meant to be comforting, only made me more afraid. "Don't lie to me, please," I told him. "I'm not stupid. I can take a good guess of how this is going to go."
"I'm not lying," Draco shot back, and the firmness of his words shocked me. "You-I know how this has been. I know how I've been, but this...I told you I drew the line at people hurting you, didn't I?"
I nodded, faintly remembering that conversation that seemed like forever ago.
"And I am not a liar, Elaine Adler. This...bloody hell, I don't--but it's going to be fine, alright? It has to be."
I had a strange feeling he was saying this to comfort himself as much as he was saying it to comfort me. I wanted so badly to believe him, but I wasn't stupid. I knew, at least slightly, what I was about to walk into.
There was no way I could fool myself, but for Draco's sake, so that he could keep calm and not give himself away, I smiled and said, "Okay."
-------
Draco and I landed on the ground with a soft cry as pain shot up my arm. I looked down to see a gash running down from my shoulder nearly to my elbow, blood already soaking my top. Draco's face paled as he realized he'd splinched me, but we had to keep moving, because they were waiting for us.
I was fine to walk, so Draco and I headed up the long path that led to the enormous mansion in front of us. The road was lined with hedges twice as tall as I was, and the manor was dark, making me a bit queasy.
That also could've been due to the blood I was losing.
I figured, all things considered, that dying from blood loss was probably my best bet at this point. It was a bit dramatic, yes, but still. The wound likely wasn't that bad, but my mind was reeling and it was difficult to think properly between the pain and the terror that were battling within me.
An inscription that was carved over the massive mahogany doors read, "Malfoy Manor" and beneath it, in curling script, Sanctimonia Vincet Semper.
"Purity will always conquer," Draco muttered quietly to me. "Family motto."
I didn't say anything, but it felt like I'd swallowed lead. No wonder Draco was the way he was, with a family motto like that.
And with a house like this, too, because my jaw nearly dropped as we entered the enormous manor. Above us was a crystal chandelier that sparkled even low lighting, and the rug beneath our feet must've been more expensive than everything I owned combined. Every piece of furniture matched, every window was spotless as they opened up to the spiraling garden maze beyond them.
I heard a crack from my left, and looked over to see a wrinkly little creature hobbling towards us. Draco's nose wrinkled with disgust as he looked down.
"Kreacher, what are you doing here?"
Kreacher bowed his head, but kept his eyes on me. "Mistress Bellatrix brought Kreacher to the Malfoys to help the Dark Lord, Master Draco. Kreacher is very pleased to help, but Kreacher is wondering what that Mud-"
"Kreacher," Draco snapped, making Kreacher shut up. "Where are they?"
"Dining room, Master Draco. Kreacher will take you...make sure the girl does not touch anything...not with those dirty hands of hers..." Kreacher mumbled as he led Draco and I from the black and white tiled foyer through a hallway lined with portraits.
I had never seen a house-elf before, but I didn't think I was much of a fan. Kreacher seemed entirely unpleasant, and I didn't see the point of keeping such aggravating, rude company. Perhaps Hermione had been right with her whole S.P.E.W. venture. Why anyone would want a thing like Kreacher was beyond me.
He was probably much nicer to Purebloods, though.
Each of them peered at me like I was no better than a walking pile of dung, but I avoided their gazes, keeping my own eyes forward. I caught a couple of the names as I walked, and most of them had Draco's last name.
Ah, a nice little family shrine, I thought. How pleasant.
I was trying my best to keep my breathing normal and my hands steady, but once we entered the dining room, which was even bigger than the foyer, it was a nearly impossible task. Draco stepped aside, showing me to the room and the whispering commenced.
I scanned the people sitting at the long, black table in the middle of the room. There were Draco's parents, the Parkinsons, the Crabbes and Goyles, the Knotts and one or two wizards I didn't recognize. On either side of the head of the table, Bellatrix and Snape sat looking at us, the former with utter glee, and the latter with entire boredom.
Unfortunately, none of the witches and wizards present came as a shock to me. Even though I wasn't well-versed in Pureblood politics, their children had spent their years at Hogwarts closely interacting with Draco.
And at the head of the table was Voldemort himself, his skin whiter than Draco's hair and his teeth more foul than Bellatrix's. I could feel the dark presence of his magic lingering in the air like a bad smell, and it made my stomach twist unpleasantly. From what Draco had said, it seemed likely that Voldemort was a Legilimens, and I wished desperately Draco had had the idea of teaching me Occlumency weeks ago.
I felt no intrusion on my mind, but even without it, it felt like Voldemort was reading everything about me as he took me in, gushing wound and all. I nearly had to stifle a snort that I was dripping my supposedly dirty blood all over the Malfoy's pristine floors, but it occurred to me that perhaps this was not the best moment to do so.
"Ah," Voldemort began, and his voice was like steel scraping bone, making my skin crawl as I met his gaze. "So this is the Mudblood that has been causing so much trouble at Dumbledore's beloved school. Friend of the boy, I'm assuming?"
Snape shook his head stiffly. "Not of Draco, no. But of Potter? Yes, my lord."
Well, there was one small relief. Snape had somehow bought Draco's act in his office not so long ago. Not that that was going to do much good now, though.
"Is that so?" Voldemort mused, scratching the massive snake that was curled next to his chair. "Well, well. What a treat for us, no? It does not surprise me, though, that such a nosy Muggle has been taken in by Harry. The Potters have long since exhibited such disgraceful behaviours. It is no wonder that Fleamont and Euphemia were stricken from the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
I don't know if I would call Harry and I friends still, but again, it didn't seem like the best moment for that piece of information.
"Blood traitors, the whole damn family," Bellatrix snarled, making a few of the people at the table nod emphatically.
Voldemort flicked two of his long, bony fingers, inviting Draco forward. Everything in my body was screaming at me not to move any closer to the dark wizard, but Draco grabbed my arm, just above my elbow, and tugged me with him.
It wouldn't serve any purpose to struggle against Draco other than give the table something to mock, and I refused to give them any sort of satisfaction if I could help it. I decided that, as I neared the Dark Lord, I wouldn't give these people anything. If I couldn't help at Hogwarts, if I couldn't fight with everyone else, then this would be my contribution. I knew more than most, but they didn't know that. And they never would.
We stopped to the side of Voldemort's chair, and Draco released my arm. I cursed him silently, because his touch was the only thing grounding me as I faced the most evil, feared wizard in history.
Panic threatened to rise up in the form of bile in my throat at the thought, but I swallowed it. Regarding the man- the creature- in front of me, I pretended he was any other wizard. I prayed my face seemed as calm as I thought it did.
I had never even seen an image of the wizard before, so I was entirely unprepared for the way that he looked. His face was sharp, thin, pale; his eyes were sallow and dark, and his nose was entirely missing from his face. His dark robes seemed to move around him like black smoke, and with every breath he took, I could feel the dark magic that lived inside of him.
No wonder people were afraid to even utter his name. The man, though I didn't think he could possibly still be one, was fucking terrifying.
I wondered what he had looked like before he'd become the monster he was now. I knew, from the awful fiasco that was second year, that he had been human once upon a time, but I hadn't seen him like Harry had. I wondered what kind of awful, terrible magic one had to perform and what horrific things one had to do to turn into the creature that was Voldemort.
There was a whisper of humanity in the shape of his body and the movements he made, but other than that, he was horribly other.
Voldemort reached out a pale hand, his cracked nail digging into my skin as he tilted my chin up with one finger. "Never would I have suspected such a plain-looking Mudblood to cause so much trouble," he said.
I had long since stopped flinching at that word, but the way Voldemort said it made it filled with more contempt, more complete and utter hatred, that I had a hard time hiding my reaction. I said nothing, my hands stuck to my side as if bound.
"And what a brave face she's putting on," Voldemort taunted, causing his followers to snicker. "Oh, Narcissa, look at what she's done to your house," he tutted, his eyes bouncing across each droplet of blood that I had spilled onto the floor as I'd walked. "My condolences."
Narcissa Malfoy, her face tight, responded, "It is no matter, my lord. Kreacher shall clean it."
"Even still," Voldemort continued, turning back to me. "It is a shame that such foul blood is disgracing such a noble house. Tell me, Draco," he said, his attention turning towards Draco, "how is it that you are so inept at Side-Along Apparition?"
I sensed Draco tense briefly before he answered. "My apologies, lord. It was my first time."
Voldemort thought for a moment before he looked at Bellatrix, who looked back at him with an expression that neared love. I had to hold back a gag as she looked at him with such adoration I wondered just how devoted she was to him.
"Bellatrix."
"Yes, my lord?" Bellatrix answered eagerly.
"I do believe you know some healing spells, do you not?" Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix's face lit up with a maniacal grin. "We wouldn't want our new guest to suffer."
"Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord."
Bellatrix pulled out her wand, a short, crooked stick, and aimed it at me. Her eyes told me that what was about to come was not going to be fun. For me, at least.
That still did not prepare me for what I was about to endure.
A blinding flash of white-hot pain tore up my arm, and I let out a soft groan through gritted teeth as her non-verbal spell attacked me. My vision flashed black as the pain ripped through my body for what felt like hours, but I kept on my feet.
It was like my arm was being torn apart and sewn back together over and over again as the spell blasted its way through the open wound. Every bit of magic, which normally felt so warm and invigorating, now felt like wicked fire eating away at my body.
After a few moments, the pain disappeared, and I could hear evil cackles that were flying around the room as my body recovered from the assault. My breathing was ragged, and my arm was now pouring red, sticky blood in a renewed wave of fresh gore.
"Now, now, Bellatrix. You've gone and made such a mess," Voldemort chastised, but it wasn't sincere in the slightest. "I'm sure your sister does not appreciate you sullying her house any further."
"My apologies, lord," Bellatrix replied, with the same amount of sarcasm as her master. "My apologies, Cissy," she said to her sister.
"It is nothing Kreacher cannot take care of," Narcissa said stiffly.
My head was spinning slightly and my ears were ringing with the aftershocks of the spell as Voldemort curled a lip in disgust at the blood running down my arm. I had the small urge to punch him, but my arm was in no state.
Besides, you know, he'd probably just kill me on the spot.
I kept my chin up, refusing to let anyone, especially Draco, see how thoroughly Bellatrix's little performance had wracked my body. Snape was looking at me, but I forced my eyes elsewhere. That bloody traitor. I felt a rage surge in me at the thought of my professor. He was the reason I was here at all.
Dumbledore trusted him, and look where that had gotten him. Harry had often suspected that Snape hadn't really turned good, and Hermione had always shut him down rather quickly. Now, though, I knew Harry had been right all along. No man that was so surrounded by whispers of violence and past dark deeds could possibly be trustworthy.
Fat load of good that did me now, huh? I hoped that Dumbledore would find Snape out sooner rather than later. I have never understood why or how he trusted Snape so completely. It seemed I had aggressively underestimated the Slytherin head of House.
I hoped Snape felt guilty for betraying the man who gave him a second chance. I also hoped that he was met with a rather unpleasant end, because that greasy asshole deserved nothing less. And I hoped that for the rest of his days, Snape would remember the staining red of my blood on the Malfoy's tile floor.
"Elaine Adler, yes?" Voldemort asked.
I didn't respond, mostly due to stubbornness. He obviously already knew who I was; what was the point of asking? Another blinding surge of pain coursed through me. This time, it was shorter, and Voldemort looked at me with disdain as I did my best to keep my reactions to a minimum.
It was harder this time, and my knees wobbled slightly, my head pounding with pain even after the spell left my body.
"Seems the Mudblood needs to be taught some manners, does it not?" Voldemort announced, causing the room to fill with jeers and shouts. "It isn't her fault she had such an unfortunate upbringing. Muggles are no better than pigs, in my opinion. No better than the very dirt we walk on."
Agreements sounded from Voldemort's followers as he spoke. Draco nodded along with them, but I ignored him. I was focused on trying to push away the fog the pain was leaving around my brain.
"Elaine Adler, yes?" Voldemort asked once more.
Fine, you ugly bastard, I thought. I dipped my chin in answer, not quite ready to face another round of Bellatrix's magic.
"Mudblood, born to Muggles Richard and Martha Adler, sixth year Ravenclaw at Hogwarts," Voldemort added, making dread hit me as he laid down details of my life. "Top of your class in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and rather well-versed in Charms and Transfiguration."
I nodded once more. Such accomplishments seemed so childish and futile when said by Voldemort, as if he were mocking me.
"Such potential is such a waste on someone with such impure blood," Voldemort lamented. "But it is to our benefit now, is it not? For Ms. Adler has become quite the curious student in recent months. It seems she feels she understands what is happening in our world, and that she has a place in the fight."
Heat crept up the back of my neck, but I ignored it. No matter what he said, I knew I belonged in the Wizarding world. I had faced this kind of shit before, and I could fight through it again. This was nothing new, I told myself. It was just like suffering through years of insults and taunts at Hogwarts from bigoted students who couldn't think for themselves.
"And Ms. Adler, in her insatiable quest for knowledge, has stumbled upon more than one of our secrets, hasn't she?" Voldemort asked Snape, who confirmed his question.
"Not only that," Voldemort said, rising from his chair. "But it seems that she and Draco have become...close," he sneered, shooting a harsh look at Draco's parents.
Lucius Malfoy, looking rather sickly and shaky, said, "My lord, Draco would never mingle with her kind. I swear it. We taught him correctly."
"I'm sure you did, Lucius," Voldemort answered. "So why, then, is Draco doing his best to shove me from his mind at this very moment?"
"My lord, I am-" Draco started, but Voldemort raised a large hand and brought it crashing down across Draco's face, causing his head to snap to the side. My heart wrenched at the sound of the impact and at the red mark already blooming on Draco's alabaster skin.
Draco let out no noise as he righted himself and dipped his head in submission. "It is not intentional, my lord. Professor Snape has been teaching me Occlumency. It has become a habit, my lord."
"Occlumency?" Voldemort repeated.
"Yes, lord. I thought it would be best for the boy, in case Albus became suspicious," Snape told him.
"Very good," Voldemort praised, and Snape straightened his shoulders as he spoke. "As for Ms. Adler, I had no desire to delve into a mind so primitive. Perhaps she could be persuaded using other methods."
The way he said other methods set my nerves on edge. That sounded far more threatening than I really felt comfortable with. It didn't matter, though. I had made up my mind that I wasn't going to break.
Christ, it felt so bloody dramatic to think such noble, brave thoughts when I had no idea what was going to happen. I felt like a child playing pretend, not like a real participant of this war. I'd somehow gone from some Muggleborn Ravenclaw to being interrogated by the Dark Lord himself in Draco's house while alleged Death Eaters watched on with glee. What kind of qualifications did I have to be so involved in this? Yes, I was close with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, but other than that, what place did I have in this stupid war?
Why had I thought I was such an important, crucial part to all of this just because I'd stumbled across a few things I wasn't meant to discover?
It felt surreal. I wished it wasn't real, but the pain lancing up my arm was very much real. Everything was real, and I was truly facing something I was not prepared to face. Still, I knew I held information that Voldemort wanted, and I knew that I had to do everything I could to keep it from him, if only to save my friends.
And to save Draco.
"My lord, may I-"
"Bellatrix," Voldemort cut her off sharply. "Speak when spoken to."
"Yes, my lord. Sorry, my lord," Bellatrix responded, and I genuinely thought she might be on the verge of tears as she bowed her head.
Strange, evil, messed up woman, that one. And she was Draco's aunt. I often forgot that many of the Pureblood families were closely related.
"Draco, bring her to the basement. We shall decide what to do with our guest later. We have business to attend to," Voldemort commanded.
As one, everyone stood from their chairs and Voldemort exited the room, followed closely by his massive snake. The rest of the room followed suit, leaving Draco and I alone. Draco guided me to the opposite side of the room where a set of stairs led down, framed by two curving staircases on either side that led up to the second floor of the mansion.
Draco muttered, "Lumos," as we entered the basement, lighting the dark space so that he could tap the lanterns lining the wall.
They came to life, casting a yellowish glow on the bare room. The walls, the floor, the ceiling were all made with cement, and it smelled of mildew and something faintly metallic I didn't want to put a name to.
Draco sighed heavily then, casting a worried glance at my arm. "Elaine,-"
"Don't," I interrupted. "Whatever you're going to say, it doesn't matter. I'm here and there's nothing we can do. And don't worry," I added as Draco furrowed his brow. "I'm not going to divulge any of your dirty little secrets."
"Bloody hell," Draco swore softly. "Like I care about that right now. Why aren't you taking this seriously?"
"I am," I objected. "There's just no use in apologizing or bitching about something that is already happening and that we can't change. And thanks to your lovely cousin, I've already got a fun little taste of what's waiting for me, so excuse me if I'm a bit out of sorts. Being tortured can do that to you," I said sarcastically.
"Believe me, I've been on the receiving end of a number of Bellatrix's hexes before. You aren't the only one. Merlin, Elaine," Draco sighed again. "I'm...I can get you out of this. I promise you. I-I never..." Draco stopped, rubbing his face. "I never wanted this. You know that, right?"
"Christ, how sweet," I replied. "The boy I'm in love with never wanted me to be captured by the darkest, most evil wizard to ever exist."
Draco glared at me, flinching a bit at my casual mention of feelings. "This isn't the time for jokes," Draco snapped. "You and I are both in a hell of a lot of danger. This isn't fucking funny."
"No, Draco, you're right. It isn't. Do you see me laughing?" I retorted. "Nothing about this is fucking funny, but at least you're leaving with your life."
"Always one for dramatics, aren't you?"
I gave him a surprised look. "Can you honestly tell me, right now, that you think they're just going to let me go after they're done doing...whatever they have planned with me?"
I wanted him to say yes. It was so damn foolish, but part of me was still...
"I can't," Draco admitted, his voice rough.
That part of me shattered harshly, and I was left with nothing but grim resignation. "Well, that's that, isn't it."
Draco surged forward at that, capturing my mouth in a kiss that nearly had tears pricking my eyes. It was like he was putting all of his feelings and words and regrets into that one kiss, and it practically stole my breath from my lungs. Draco's hands were on either side of my face, holding onto me like I was going to slip through his fingers like smoke.
I wasn't, though. I was here and he was here with me and as I went to thread my hands through his blond hair, Draco suddenly pulled back, causing a crack to spread in my chest. No, I wanted more, I wasn't done. I wanted...
Fuck, I wanted nothing more than more time. I wanted more time to discover every part of Draco, even the dark, secret parts. I wanted more time to hear him say- say whatever he felt about me, and I wanted more time so that I could just be with him.
I wanted more time with Draco more than anything in that moment, even my freedom. Suddenly, any embarrassment I might've had about telling him I loved him was gone. I was glad he knew before whatever was about to happen happened.
"Sorry, I had to. Just one last time," Draco apologized softly. "I have to go."
Draco stepped away from me, walking back up the stairs and breaking through the locking wards long enough to open the door. With a look that was so heavy it seemed to crush me, Draco whispered, "Expelliarmus."
My wand flew from my pocket, and I felt the first seeds of betrayal and hurt plant themselves in me. I was now entirely defenseless, and I was about to be entirely alone. I prayed my emotions would stay back long enough for Draco to leave, but the panicked terror rising in me was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
My situation was bad. Fuck, it was so bad. And I couldn't do a damn thing about it now. Not without my wand.
"I'm so sorry," Draco said, softly enough that I could barely hear him.
One last time.