Goosebumps broke out all across Draco's skin.
He stood frozen for a moment physically unable to move.
She's torturing her...
A second scream followed and a shudder passed through Draco.
He tried to tune it out. Tried to block it, like he had blocked out so much...but he couldn't tune out her cries, they were too sharp of a sound in his ears.
it was Granger in there being tortured by his aunt: Stubborn, righteous Granger.
How the hell was he supposed to feel about this?
Why did the sound of her screams make his skin crawl?
Its just the sound, that pitch would make anyone's skin crawl, he told himself.
In the distance Draco could hear Weasely calling out Hermione's name over and over.
He sounded like a wounded animal calling out; a desperate sound of agony.
Narcissa appeared in the doorway, shattering the glass cage in Draco's mind.
She looked so calm and serene. He wished he could feel something like that right now instead of feeling like he was on the edge of a cliff looking out over the edge.
"I was worried you were hurt," Narcissa said, her voice filled with concern.
"I'm fine mother," he managed, even though he was anything but fine. Draco took one look at his mothers face and he could tell she could sense his distress. He tried to slip on that cool mask that he had been working to perfect ever since the dark Lord had decided to take up residence in their house.
Narcissa walked towards him wordlessly. When she was only a few feet away she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. She let her perfectly manicured hand rest there for a moment before she let it shift to his upper back directing him back inside.
Draco's limbs begged to protest, and yet he kept moving forward as if his body were working on auto pilot and he were merely sitting back and watching as the ground came closer and closer. He wanted to pull up, he wanted to pull away.
With each step that Draco took down the hall Granger's screams grew louder and louder.
"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get the sword? Where?"
"We found it-we found it-PLEASE!" Hermione's screamed again.
A cold sweat broke out over Draco's skin and he shivered. His feet stopped of their own accord at the entrance to the drawing room. Every fiber of his being screamed against going in. If he walked in and saw what was going on that would make it real. It would mean that his aunt really was torturing his classmate; Torturing the person who he had, less than a half hour ago, been thinking of as worthy challenger.
She doesn't deserve to go through this, he found himself thinking.
No one one does, his mind answered back, why should it matter that its HER?
His mother's hand tugged on him, her grip firm and unyielding.
Was it that she wanted him to bear witness to his aunt's cruelty or was she worried what his absence from the room would signal?
Why does everything always have to be about keeping up appearances? He lamented.
Another scream cut through the air.
He couldn't handle it.
He needed a minute, just a minute to collect himself.
"I'll be in, in a moment," said Draco slipping away from his mothers grip.
He could hear Granger sobbing only a few yards from where he stood.
"I need to use the washroom first." He forced the cocky manner that was expected from him. He let the prejudiced he had been taught show in his voice so as to try and convince his own mother that he was unaffected by this.
But you are...the dark in his mind whispered.
He was supposed to believe and tow the family line and that his schoolmate deserved what she was getting because of her blood.
Draco could see his mothers eyes on him, analyzing him-looking past the facade. He needed to get away before she began to wonder if he cared about Granger.
I don't care about her, He told himself. I just don't want to hear the screaming.
Another one of those screams echoed down the hall shrilly enough that even his mother flinched.
"Those Deatheaters were filthy," said Draco making excuses. "I need to wash my hands." It didn't matter that he hadn't used his hands to move a single one.
His mother's eyebrows knit together for a moment and she could see that she was questioning what the 'correct' course of action was: to push him or let him be.
Mercifully she opted for the latter.
"I'll see you in a moment," she said with a slight nod.
It was not a question, or a statement, it was an order and Draco heard it clearly.
His mother knew he was flustered by the current events and she was giving him a moment to compose himself. When he was finished pulling himself together he was clearly expected to join the family in the drawing room.
That's fine, he nodded at his mother and turned heel and began walking down the hallway.
"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth. Tell the truth!" His aunt's voice rang out behind him and Draco's shoulders curled up bracing for what was to come.
Another horrible scream and Draco practically bolted down the hall with the sound of Granger's scream chasing him.
The second he reached the bathroom he turned and slammed the door against the sound.
Whirling he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror and smashed it, sending fissures across the surface. He looked at his face in the fractures and choked out a cough. He gulped for air, feeling as if he were unable to get any oxygen out of the great pulls he sucked into his lungs.
Draco braced his hands against the sink and tried to knew he was in danger of hyperventilating and passing out. He counted the space between each breath in his head. The muffled sounds of Granger's cries threw off his count and Draco cast a quick charm to block out the sound in the bathroom. The silence was an immediate relief which hung strangely heavy around him.
Draco took two deep, steadying breaths and dared a glance back up at his reflection. His skin was flushed while the area around his mouth was write with the grim set of his lips.
Draco pushed back from the sink,waved his wand, fixed the mirror, and then stared himself dead in the eyes.
"You can do this." He said, and then closed his eyes. "You need to keep it together."
Why? A mocking voice questioned in his head.
Because you have to so your family can be safe.
Your family is out there torturing an innocent young girl.
The silence of the room grew more dense and suffocating.
The walls began to press in on him and that urgency for air return with a vengeance.
No, he told himself, I will not breakdown.
Draco shuddered pulling himself together. His back straightened as he braced for what was to come, and opened the door.
He walked down the hall with all the speed of a condemned man.
"What else did you take? What else? ANSWER ME!"
Draco stepped inside the drawing room, feeling oddly detached from his own limbs.
"CRUCIO!" his aunt yelled pointing her wand down at a helpless Hermione.
Draco watched as her body bowed against the pain and she screamed shaking violently with the force of the curse. Forcing himself to move Draco turned away and walked over to where his parents stood watching silently. He took his place beside them and looked forward across the room at the stone wall somewhere over his aunt's head.
The sound of Ron yelling for Hermione echoed in the background.
He wondered what it was like for the Weasely boy to be so close and yet so far from his friend, to be able to hear her cries and do nothing.
Then he looked at Hermione and wondered what it was like for her to hear her friend calling out for her.
Does it make her feel more helpless or is a comfort to know that she isn't alone? he wondered feeling light headed.
Bellatrix crouched down straddling Hermione and Draco's eyes were drawn to the movement.
He didn't want to look, he didn't want to watch, but not unlike someone seeing an accident as is happening, he could not look away.
His aunt took her knife and began carving into Granger's arm.
Granger screamed.
And screamed.
Bellatrix held Granger's head to the side as she continued to carve and Granger thrashed.
Stop, please-Merlin-make her stop, Draco silently begged and looked away.
When the screaming stopped Draco looked back to see his aunt stepping up and away from Granger. He could see the blood from the knife and the word carved into his classmates arm.
'Mudblood.'
The slur stood red against Hermione's pale skin.
Draco felt his stomach drop to his toes.
Wrong.
This all felt wrong.
It didn't matter that she was indeed a mudblood...to carve the slur in her skin like that...to torture her...
A single tear escaped Draco's eye unbidden.
He couldn't help it any more than he could help his own heart beating.
Hermione looked up at him, her brown eyes red from crying, fresh tears spilling silently down her cheeks and onto the stone floor. This time he didn't look away, couldn't. He felt a pain and tightness in his chest the likes of which he had never known.
He couldn't breathe.
Draco wanted to wipe away the tear, but did not want to risk anyone else seeing the motions so he just stood there looking at Granger wondering if she could see his face clear enough through her own tears to see his.
"How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix screamed and Draco couldn't help but wince at his deranged aunt's voice. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"
"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed, breaking eye contact with Draco and turning to his aunt.
Draco believed her, he had seen the truth in her eyes before she looked away.
"We've never been inside your vault..." Granger swallowed. "It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy."
This time Draco could hear the lie in her voice.
Of course its the real one. Its not like the golden trio would be waltzing around with a fake, Draco rolled his eyes internally.
"A copy? Oh, a likely story," screeched Bellatrix. She sneered and Draco could see her warring with the desire to believe Granger's words. She wanted it to be a fake enough that she was letting that desire cloud her ability to see the truth. If it was a fake then nothing would impede them calling the dark lord. Bellatrix's first priority was to please her Lord.
"But we can find out easily," said Lucius putting his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"
Draco wrenched his shoulder from under his father's grip.
Any fool can tell it's the real thing by virtue of the fact that the golden trio has it in their possession, you don't need a goblin to tell you that. He sneered. You all would rather believe the lie than hear the truth.
Draco stormed away, happy for an excuse to leave the scene and the image of Granger on the floor bleeding. He exited the drawing room and turned towards the cellar. The second he was out of view of his family he let out a shaky breath and leaned against the wall.
His stomach heaved and he bit back vomit.
He had watched.
He had just stood there and watched.
-
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