The memory shifted.
She and Draco were in bed together, his arms wrapped possessively around her as he rested his head on her chest.
“I'm going to take care of you. I swear, Hermione, I'm always going to take care of you.”
“Tell me about your mother, Draco,” she said as she traced her fingers across the runes on his back. “Tell me everything you could never tell anyone.”
...
“I'd never seen anyone tortured before,” he said without looking up at her. “She was — the first person I ever saw tortured. He—,” Hermione felt his jaw roll as he hesitated, “—he experimented on her and let — a few other Death Eaters contribute ideas about what to do to her. To punish the Malfoys.”
Lucius kept pushing, deeper and deeper into her mind. The memories started growing dimmer as though they were melting, breaking into pieces and fading away.
The screaming kept going. On and on.
Hermione felt herself slipping away.
Everything shook, and the weight of Lucius' mind inside hers suddenly vanished. There was pricking sensation in her arms and right leg
She sat slumped against the cage, gasping as she forced herself to stay conscious. The room swam slowly into view. The air was thick and hazy with dust and smoke.
Lucius was gone. Hermione looked down at herself in confusion. There were small splinters of debris buried in her arms. A sharp, tinny ringing filled her ears and wouldn't seem to stop. She squinted and coughed when she tried to breathe.
She tried to get up but the room wobbled and turned red as she leaned forward. She sank back, a choked sob formed in her throat while she struggled to think.
She needed to…
What was it?
Needed...
The drawing room.
She needed to get out of the drawing room. Get to the door. Get to the door.
Where was the door?
She glanced around in bewildered. There were flashes of light that she couldn't make out clearly. The wall where the door should have been was gone. There was a cavernous hole in its place, as though the wall had been torn apart.
She had to get through it before Lucius came back. She tried to push herself shakily up. Her head throbbed so painfully the room wavered, and she nearly fainted. Her leg wouldn't move. She looked down and realised there was a piece of wood buried in her calf.
The room was distorting in her vision. There was noise, but she couldn't make it out through the ringing. Lights kept flashing. She blinked and tried to look up to see what it was, but everything rippled and got darker. She slumped back.
She'd get up in a moment.
She just needed to catch her breath. If her head cleared a bit, it would be easier to move.
She reached up and touched her face with trembling hands. Her fingers came away red with blood…
The bars behind her shook abruptly and roused her.
Hands took her by the shoulders and pulled her up from the place she'd been resting.
Blond.
She tried to pull herself away. “Please — don't— Don't—”
She was laid on her back and pale skin and hair filled her vision.
“God — Hermione — I'm so sorry. Hold on. You have to hold on.”
The voice was elongated and distorted.
She squinted. “Draco?”
He was so pale she thought he might be a ghost.
“You came…” she reached out and touched him. He was really there. “I guess you always do—”
He was leaning over her, rapidly muttering healing spells.
“I'm sorry. I can't give you pain relief,” he said. His voice was shaking. “Hold on for me. You're safe now. I'll get you out of here. I'm so — sorry.”
She felt him pull the splinter of wood out of her leg. The pain tore through like fire, and she gave a ragged scream.
The unexpected additional agony cleared her mind, cutting through the dazed pain. Lucius had kidnapped her and forced his way into her mind. She gave a sharp gasp, and her chest started spasming.
“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god, Draco. He used legilimency and portkey. Is the baby alright? Did he hurt her?”
Draco was casting several spells on her injured hand, and she closed her fingers over his wand and shoved it down towards her stomach.
“Check on the baby,” she said, her voice shaking. “I think he might have hurt her.”
She couldn't breathe as Draco hesitated and then cast the spell. The brilliant golden light filled the room as the orb appeared, still steadily fluttering.
Hermione stared at it for several seconds before bursting into tears. She forced herself to sit up. The room began swimming but she forced herself to focus, gripping Draco's shirt tightly and looking into his eyes.
“He knows — I'm sorry. Your father knows. I told him what happened to your mother.” She had to lean close in order to make out the details of his face.
Draco froze and blinked.
“It's alright. It doesn't matter,” he said after a moment. His hair brushed against her hair and he kissed her forehead. He slid a hand behind her waist and under her legs and picked her up. “I'll take you back to your room and finish healing you. Then I'll deal with everything here.”
He stood. She could feel that he was shaking. He was so pale; he might be bleeding somewhere. She wasn't sure. She looked dazedly around the room. The floor was covered in rubble, and the entire wall where the door had been was gone.
Lucius was slumped down in the cage in the centre of the room. His wrists were shackled to bars on opposite sides of the cage.
To prevent him from touching his Dark Mark.
There was blood pooling on the floor from a wound in his side.
Draco noticed what she was staring at. “It was the quickest way to deal with him.”
Lucius stirred and his head tilted back as he stared at Draco and Hermione. His hair had fallen over his face, but his eyes were glittering with rage.
“Why didn't you tell me what happened to your mother?” he asked, his voice a long snarl.
Hermione felt Draco's fingers twitch against her spine. He released a low breath. “What would you have done that wouldn't have killed her sooner?”
Lucius shifted, the metal shackles clanking against the bars. He jerked his head so he could see more clearly. “You should have told me. She was mine!”
Draco stared coldly at his father. “Yes. She was. And you saw to it that everyone knew it, didn't you? Even the Dark Lord. You never let her go. Not when she begged to run after my fourth year. You loved her right into her grave.”
Lucius paled through the blood obscuring his face.
Draco gave a bitter laugh. “It always baffled me that you believed the Dark Lord would have used me to punish you when he had her. I suppose you never were as creative as the Dark Lord.”
Lucius said nothing for several moments, then he cocked his head to the side. “What are you doing now? The Mudblood spread her legs to comfort you and so you imagine yourself saving her instead?”
Draco said nothing.
Lucius leaned forward. “You won't survive it. If she escapes, the Dark Lord will hold you responsible.”
Draco snorted. “I don't imagine there are many circumstances in which I survive the next several months even if she stays.”
Lucius' eyes narrowed. “You knew.”
Draco nodded with a cold smirk. “Information is my specialty, Father.”