She was stepping into one of her nightmares.
It started the way they all did, except she wasn't being dragged by the roots of her brown curls and she wasn't fighting with a kick and a scream with Harry and Ron beside her. No, she willingly walked into the darkness that those nightmares began on her own.
She marched through the darkened gates that had once placed her on the opposite side of the enemy line that she now crossed freely. She heard the feet beneath her hit the pebble pathway. One, two, three, four, five and then she was walking up ancient marbled stairs and into a once majestic entrance.
The feeling she got as soon as she entered was the same like in those nightmares; it was that of paralyzing fear the mingled with Death circling inside that prestigious home. It was colder than what she remembered, but definitely just as dark.
Hermione was inside Malfoy Manor.
Before she could become frozen with uneasiness, before her chest felt hallow, or her lungs solidified the air in them, Hermione had to recall the instructions she had received and the plan she had come up with to survive this.
"Veda," she whispered in such a low voice that she barely heard herself say it.
With a pop, Hermione felt a millimeter of pressure ease as a little creature appeared before her. It was a house-elf. She had bright purple eyes, big like tennis balls, and rimmed with thick eyelashes. Her nose was pointy and long, just like her arms and legs that poked out of a clean pillowcase she was clothed in.
"Master said you'd be coming, Miss." The house-elf bowed immediately.
Clearing her throat from the uncomfortable situation—because she never liked being at the end of a house-elf bowing—Hermione reminded herself that she had to keep a Draco-Malfoy-persona at all times. Yes, the house-elf rights was close to her heart, but it was not the time or the place to let that win over her. Instead, she asked, "Can you show me to his room, please?"
Veda bowed a little deeper. "Of course, Miss. Master told Veda to do so." She grabbed one of her Master's hands that Hermione was using, and then a pop echoed that had Hermione wincing.
Stabilizing Malfoy's feet on the lonesome hall they had just appeared into, Hermione felt dizzy and colder.
"Master said to Veda to remain unseen," the house-elf informed the person invading her Master's body. "Master said to always be behind Miss for protection."
"It's fine," Hermione breathed, trying to push out the specs of little lights that spotted her vision. "Just a warning next time, please. I don't have the strongest senses these days."
"As you wish, Miss," Veda said obediently before standing back to a straight position. "This door leads to my young Master's bedroom. Master says Miss must stay in there at all times and must not leave to explore anything. Veda will be watching."
Looking around the dark hall they were in that was barely dimmed by a few lamps hanging at the corners, Hermione noticed that all the walls had were paintings and portraits but no other doors. There was just one, one that she was currently standing in front of that was made of black wood.
"If I vomited over your Master's floor, would you tell on me?" Hermione blinked down at the small house-elf, her eyes full of questioning as she felt of wave of nausea hit her at what her life had come to.
"Veda doesn't know when Veda will see her real Master," the house-elf replied. "But Veda is supposed to tell her Master everything."
Hermione rolled the silver eyes she was borrowing from the house-elf's dear Master Draco. "I'll take that as a yes, then." Before her borrowed-hand could clutch onto the metal handle of the door, she turned back to the house-elf. "Stay close, please."
The last sentence wasn't much, but Veda could hear the fear, nervousness and panic in those single three words. And as she blinked her purple eyes at the ones of her Master, she knew behind those silver eyes waited a girl who'd been through a lot.
"Veda will, Miss," she told the intruder, bowing slightly before encouraging her to get inside.
Nodding once, Hermione twisted the cold handle and pushed the door open slowly. It was dark, just like it was expected. Before Veda vanished, the house-elf snapped her fingers and a dim candlelight, alike the one outside in the hall, illuminated the room slightly.
She walked in, swallowing an uneasy knot that formed in Malfoy's throat before closing the door behind her.
There was a grand bed pressed against the middle marble wall of the room. It was dressed in black, silk sheets — no doubt expensive and luscious. The pillows over the bed were also covered in black, but there were other pillows behind those that were covered in deep emerald.
This, Hermione could tell as she scanned the room from where she stood, was the primary color-scheme of Malfoy's bedroom. Black bed, black furniture, black marbled walls, black lamps, some that gave a green tint, and an emerald carpet that served as ground. The only thing that was a little different from the all-black was a banner with silver and emerald over his bed that represented his Slytherin pride.
Feeling a little more at ease that she wasn't attacked by anything, Hermione stepped further into the room to inspect it. As she did so, with every deliberate and steady step, she knew what was instantly wrong with Malfoy's bedroom. The room was elegant in a Gothic way with exquisite dressers and leather armchairs, but it was empty. There was no warmth, no color, and no noise that could fill it.
Her mother had always told her—when they were buying lilac paint for her room the summer she was fifteen—that a bedroom was one of the only spaces where one could express themselves fully. It was one's own little sanctuary. It was a place one could do and say anything one wanted. It was like a mirror of who one was and what was inside one's head.
And as a minute past and then two, Hermione knew this room was half wrong. Yes, she believed Malfoy was empty and cold and dark like his bedroom and silk sheets, but at the same time he wasn't. He wasn't all black—he also had to have specs of colors in his soul, right?
Knock. Knock.
As she'd been contemplating that, Hermione shot Malfoy's spine straight as a knocking on his door echoed in his hallow room. The borrowed-heart that was sustaining her started beating incredibly fast as she turned to the door. She knew she had to open it; she couldn't escape this place because she wasn't a hostage for once. She was Draco Malfoy, and he had family here.
Knock. Knock.
She pulled out his wand from the pocket of his trousers, and with a deep inhale she moved his wrist and allowed a spell to open the door for her. And right as it did, right as it was opening, she held that wand tightly between Malfoy's long fingers and pointed it forward with determination and hate.
"Oi!" Entering the room, eyes wide as he was greeted with a pointed wand, Theodore Nott raised his palms to demonstrate his lack of threat. "For Salazar's sake, Malfoy, lower your wand. It's just me, you maniac."
Lessening the stiffness she was feeling, Hermione pointed the wand away from Nott's face and waved it to the door, making it close. "I wasn't really expecting you," she told the boy with Malfoy's indifferent tone as relief washed over her.
"Yeah, well, I wasn't really expecting to be here now, was I?" Theo scoffed as he tossed himself on one of the armchairs in the corner of the room. "I assume that's my own fault, though. Guess I was too naive to believe we'd be having a proper dinner as a family now that I'm home for the holidays."
Hermione made Malfoy's feet lead her to the armchair across Nott's. "No pre-Christmas sweets, then?" she added to Malfoy's flare by putting his feet on top of the circular table that separated the two armchairs.
"I won't be waiting for a post-Christmas turkey either," Nott scoffed, crossing his arms with a frown on his face. "Apparently Father has other plans for me this holiday. Not that I find it odd. I'm a sudden slave these days."
"Meaning?"
Theodore looked up at his fellow Slytherin, his blue eyes narrowing. "It means exactly what it does, Malfoy," his voice came out low and tensed. "Instead of enjoying days away from Hogwarts, I've to go out there and fight some damn battle that's not mine."
Hermione raised a blonde brow. "Then don't," she replied in a tone that was much more her own than it was Malfoy's, in a way that was sympathetic yet scolding. "Don't do it, Nott. Don't go."
Theodore stared at his friend before him like he lost all his marbles, like he didn't know where his statement was coming from and why it came out in the first place. "And what, Malfoy? Get killed? Just because you couldn't complete a task the Dark Lord set out for you doesn't mean we get the same privilege if we fail."
Before Nott, Draco Malfoy tensed his shoulders and pressed his lips into a tight line. There was a flicker of irritation, of confusion, and of discomfort in his eyes before he settled his expression into a blank stare.
Not taking the obvious point that he didn't want to get into it anymore, to forget what he'd said, Theodore continued with the same frustration he'd spoken with previously. "I don't want to be out there, Malfoy. I don't want to fight and be a part of some stupid strategic move to maim the Light Side and Potter, but I have to. It's our duty. It's my responsibility. And according to my father, it's my order as his son."
Not helping herself to control her own flare of disgust, though she knew what Nott was saying was what Malfoy believed in, she snarled, "Right, Nott. Be a murderer. Go out there and kill on your father's orders."
"It's not simple!" Theo snarled back. "Do you think we want to become you? Do you think any of the other Pureblood families want to follow the example you and your family have become? Salazar, Malfoy, wake up! If we disobey or fail the Dark Lord we'll become prisoners in our own home like you've become!"
Hermione widened the eyes she was borrowing, shock seeping in. What was Nott saying? What was he hinting at about the Malfoys? What had Malfoy decided not to tell her before she came into his home to impersonate him? Is that the reason why he'd chosen to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays? Had she brought him back into a danger he was trying to avoid?
Usually Draco was a mastermind on controlling his emotions, at masking his expressions from the world, Theodore knew. From his armchair, however, Theodore could see his friend's eyes flash with all emotions like a swirl of leaves on a windy day. There was anger, frustration, betrayal, confusion, worry, and even sympathy.
Sighing to himself, Theodore rose from the armchair. "Draco," he called, no longer angry, "I'm just doing what I need to do to survive, mate. I'm doing what I'm required to do for my life and my family's. I don't want your fate, nor do I want what happened to Daphne's mother to happen to mine. It's nothing personal."
For the first time in her time in impersonating Malfoy, Hermione felt a sense of liking for Theodore Nott. As her former self, she'd never given him much thought because he usually behaved himself and didn't cross the line like Malfoy loved to do. Now she found that—though he was crude and had a way of being a jerk—he was honest. She disagreed in his methods, of course, but honesty was something she appreciated.
Not that she could really tell him that, or give a comment on all he'd said because she certainly hadn't a clue about it. Instead, Hermione cleared Malfoy's throat and asked, "Why are you here, Nott?"
"I was told to find you," Theodore said, his blue eyes glowing with something that made Hermione feel nervous. "There's a meeting and our services are required."
XXX
Hermione had gone into a complete frozen and shocked state when Malfoy's feet led her to follow after Nott. She hadn't been able to move, hadn't been able to speak on her behalf when they walked down several halls and flight of stairs. She'd fought with Malfoy about staying inside his room the time she was at Malfoy Manor, but she secretly hoped that's how it would happen. She'd hoped she would catch up on some homework, study something, investigate the body-swap incident, and write a few letters while occasionally having to deal with his parents. She knew there would be no way to avoid them forever, but she was going to work on that when the moment arose.
However, things were different presently and it interfered with her assumptions. She hadn't known anything Nott had hinted at to be true. She hadn't, even for a moment, believed that the Malfoys were prisoners in their own home— a home that was serving as a headquarters for Death Eaters and for You-Know-Who.
Alas, through her horror she had sat through a meeting with notorious Death Eaters. Snape had been there, taking role as an informative and leader (much to the obvious distaste of a few Death Eaters), while their precious Dark Lord was abroad with the company of Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange. While she was sitting in a chair as Malfoy, Nott beside him, Hermione was able to see Snape throw his Godson a few calculating stares.
Hermione thought, perhaps, she had been caught, because if there was one person in Malfoy Manor that could figure her out it'd be Dumbledore's murderer. Yet, Snape said nothing when she was grabbed by the collar of Malfoy's robes and pulled out of his chair alongside Nott and a few others.
So there she was now, down in the cellar of Malfoy Manor. It was just as cold as it had been throughout the rest of the mansion, but the feel of death and despair was definitely thicker. It was suffocating, and apparent and heavy like a cloud ready to drop vapor.
"Well, here we are then. Fresh batch of the day." Though there had been many adult Death Eaters in the meeting and that helped drag the group down to the cellar, the only one that stayed behind with a merry voice was a Death Eater Hermione knew as Yaxley.
Yaxley turned to face the throng of people behind him, a nasty smile on his face. "Well, then, who's going first?"
There was a deep silence among the people he was looking at.
"Shame," he sighed dramatically. "None of you are itching to get on with today's activities, then? In that case, I'll choose." Pulling out his wand from his robes, Yaxley pointed it at one of that blank and statuesque faces staring back at him. "Miss Parkinson, it's your lucky day."
In all her hurry, in all of her turmoil and panic, Hermione had not seen Pansy Parkinson in the blur of people. But turning Malfoy's head to peer over his shoulder so she could get a better view, Hermione found Parkinson. In fact, she found four Slytherin students from Hogwarts.
Pansy stiffened her shoulders, her body visibly rigid as her black eyes narrowed at the sneering Death Eater.
"Come on now, deary," Yaxley motioned the girl forward, but Pansy hesitated. "Now!" he snarled.
Immediately, Pansy marched forward against her will. Before she reached the man, however, her dark eyes blinked up and met those of Draco and Theo. There was something in them, something both boys recognized even though the eye-contact lasted less than a second. She was afraid.
"That's a good girl. Now, let me introduce you to our guests." Putting a rough hand on Pansy's back, Yaxley led her to the furthest ends of the cellar. As they walked, as the throng of teenagers in the background followed, the cellar lit up.
Hermione didn't want to. Merlin, she really didn't want to follow after that sick man and her classmates, but Hermione had no other choice when Nott pushed her forward. She wanted to shatter into a thousand pieces when Yaxley and Parkinson stopped before a wall that held chained victims that were placed under the Silencing Charm.
"Children," Yaxley's voice was loud and it echoed, "meet our first guest. This is Michael Bletchley." He pointed his wand to a man covered in bruises and blood. From where Hermione and the others stood, she could see a thick cut on his forehead that read: BLOOD TRAITOR. "Mister Bletchley here decided it was in his power to save the lives of muggle scum he was supposed to dispose of."
The chained and branded man narrowed his eyes at Yaxley. This man was unafraid, unashamed. In his gaze Hermione could see the defiance of a pureblood realizing that all lives mattered.
Yaxley turned his attention to the person next to Bletchely. "Next we have Dedalus Diggle, member of the Order of the Phoenix."
Less damaged than the man chained on his left, the Order member looked at the people before him with complete bravery. There was no fear in his eyes, nothing but the acceptance of death — not if, but when it would come. Loyalty shone in his eyes.
And catching that, Yaxley frowned. "I'm sure you're incredibly proud to be dying for Potter, Diggle, but let me assure you, we'll try our hardest to strip you from it," he snapped and then pointed his wand to the next prisoners. "Then we've got Russell and Rebecca Dodge, grandchildren to a pesky old man shouts support for the Boy-Who-Lived and the deceased Dumbledore."
Chained together, twin brother and sister, Russell and Rebecca shook in fear at the mere sight of Yaxley. There was something in their blue eyes that made Hermione think they'd already suffered at his hands.
"And finally," with a hand returning on Pansy's back, Yaxley steered her to the last prisoner in the cellar, "those of you who have an excellent memory will recognize our last guest."
Taking a single step away from Nott's side, Hermione got a much closer look to whom Yaxley was referring to. Like she'd been slapped across the face, Hermione's heart broke as she hated to recognize the bruised and bloody face.
"This is your task for the day, Miss Parkinson. You're to show this Mudblood her place," Yaxley said, pushing Pansy forward.
Before Yaxley could turn back to the rest of the teenagers, he flicked his wand and Penelope Clearwater's panicked breaths bounced off the walls.
"Go on now, Miss Parkinson," the man ordered. "Go on before you join her!"
Instantly, Pansy raised her wand, and with a voice that shook along with her hand, she shouted, "Crucio!"
Penelope's frightened breaths turned into a full-out, earsplitting and shrill scream.
Satisfied that Pansy kept her wand firm over the prisoner, Yaxley finally turned to address the others. "These are people who've wronged the Dark Lord," he spoke with a tone as if he was teaching something to children, "and we, as his loyal followers, have the duty to help him rid the people that offend him.
"Now, get to it," his voice went rough now. "Serve your Master and dispose of the trash!"
One by one the four others present in the cellar descended. They headed for the prisoners with their wands out, cold and dead looks in their eyes.
Theodore looked at Draco, that same dead and gone look in his blue eyes as he slowly took out his wand from his pocket. "Survival," he said to his friend, noticing the disgust on his face. And then he left and headed for the man they branded a Blood Traitor.
Hermione could feel Malfoy's chest tighten from her overload of emotions spinning and spinning inside of him. She felt dizzy, some things blurring out as she saw Pansy continuing to make Penelope Clearwater cry and scream and wither in pain.
'....Pansy hasn't always been an entirely awful person,' as Pansy held her wand between shaking fingers, Hermione was flooded with what Daphne had said to her as Malfoy. 'She just adapts to what's going to benefit her—she wanted to do the right thing, to support the Dark Lord without a retort. She just wants to survive.'
Survival, it was the same thing Nott had said.
Hermione watched in complete horror as her classmates hurt and tortured people with their own sins and their own innocence breaking. For a split second Hermione wondered if that's why Malfoy did what did. Had he tried to murder Dumbledore for his own survival?
"—Argh!"
"—Crucio!"
"—Stop! Please!"
"—Confringo!"
"—Please!"
"—Avada Kedavra!"
Once Dedalus Diggle's body spluttered onto the cellar floor, his chains still wrapped around his wrists, Hermione could not keep her part as Draco Malfoy and bolted right out of the cellar.
As she was doing so, after she banged open the door and raced up the stairs that could get her away from there, a pair of arms grabbed onto her; a hand slapped over Malfoy's mouth to keep her from screaming.
"Quiet."
She was thrown into a room where landed on a Persian rug as the person who'd taken her cast a Silencing Charm at the walls. It was Severus Snape.
"I can't," she cried, not strong enough to keep pretending to be the Malfoy heir. She couldn't be strong, couldn't be determined. This place broke her. This place tore her away from her will and her determination and her hope once again. "Those people...they're killing them!"
"Keep it together," Snape hissed in his usual drawling voice. "Keep thrashing and blubbering about like a whiny child and you'll put yourself in a place you rather not find yourself in."
Hermione shook Malfoy's head, but her sobs stopped. Despite her broken heart, her broken strength, and th broken faces on those prisoners, she felt cold blood run from inside her as she realized who was standing in front of her.
Looking down from his hooked nose at the figure of his Godson, Snape crossed his arms over his chest with disapproval on his face. "They'll inform Yaxley that you ran out," he spoke once more. "Not to worry, though. I will tell Yaxley I needed you on another task."
Hermione sniffled, bringing one of Malfoy's hands to his face and wiping the tears she made him spill.
"I'm here to keep an eye out for you," Snape continued, knowing well enough he was not going to get anything from the person before him. "It took some convincing to persuade the Dark Lord, but his departure came at the precise moment it seems."
Hermione worked on her breathing, on shaking off the hysterics she'd gone into down at the cellar. She could still hear them screaming; Malfoy's eardrums hummed with it. She could still see Penelope Clearwater's tortured face and the carved BLOOD TRAITOR on that man's forehead that was no doubt work of Bellatrix Lestrange.
That thought brought back a memory of her own; a hand automatically reached for the arm that carried her mark. Hermione found that it wasn't there. Instead it was Voldemort's mark of evil that was on the skin she was inhabiting.
"I'll keep you away from these activities for as long as you're here," Snape went on once more, his black eyes into slits as the person before him let out another weak tear. "As for now, you're to stay inside the room like you were ordered."
At that, Hermione snapped Malfoy's head up to look at her old Potions professor.
Snape continued to look back with no emotion, but a glitter of mock burned into his dark eyes. "Veda," he called aloud.
Not a moment later a pop bounced around the room and the house-elf that knew Hermione and Draco's secret appeared.
"Take our young Mister Malfoy to his bedroom," Snape ordered. "And make sure he doesn't come out and that no one comes in."
With an obeying nod and a bow, Veda turned to the girl that was impersonating her Master and reached for her hand. Without the warning she had previously asked for, Hermione disappeared along with the house-elf and left Snape behind.