Track This Story: Feed
|Ch. #||Chapter Title||Word Count||Reviews|
“I want you to go to Grimauld Place, the old Blacks house. You will find a young girl there by the name of Hermione Granger. I want you to take her and bring her here. She is our next victim.”
After Hermione’s final words a small pop was sounded, Harry ran towards the place where Hermione and Bellatrix once stood and fell to his knees, trembling slightly. He could hear footsteps coming from down the hall and they seemed to be running, Harry put his face in his hands. He wasn’t crying but he was merely trying to figure out why he had not responded to the noises from downstairs sooner then he had. Why he had not cursed Bellatrix while she watched Hermione struggle, but instead he had chose to stand there.
You are safe here.
Draco looked back down at Hermione. She was still asleep on the floor; he didn’t want to wake her by moving her to his bed. So he left her there on the floor to sleep. But he walked over to her and whispered in her ear.
“Remember, you are a prisoner here. You have to act like it.” Hermione nodded and hung her head down once more, watching her feet move in a funeral like procession down the hallway. Draco marched in front of her, leading the way to their first destination.
Making sure to keep an eye on the door she opened the window and began to tie the piece of parchment to the owl’s spindly leg. It hooted softly as she whispered its destination into its ear and with a persistent hoot it took off, flying off into the distance. She ran back over to the bed and waited for the door to open again.
What he found.
“I found your letter.” Hermione coughed loudly, and turned her head just enough to see his face. He was smiling maliciously at her, his reptilian eyes shining from his furrowed face. He released his grip on her shoulders and made his way back towards Draco who was looking at Hermione with more hate than should ever be mustered from a human being. Hermione bent her head down, not wanting to look Draco directly in the eye.
When everything changes.
He was a scrawny, blonde, thin-faced boy with a quick-tempered attitude. But she had learned to see past that in her time in the Manor. She no longer saw the same quick-tempered prat, but a man who was scared and determined at the same time. A man that she knew somewhere deep down inside of her, she was learning to care for.
Alerting the Order.
“If it worked everyone should be arriving at 9.” Ron nodded and got up from the floor, walking over to the fireplace.
“It worked,” Harry said quietly to Ron who smiled in response. Ginny grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, reminding him that he was in charge of all the chaos. He let go and took a step forward.
A glimmer of Hope.
She could care less if she was sitting on the floor of a dirty prison cell. It didn’t matter how unkempt her appearance was at the moment. It was of no importance how hungry she was or how thin she had become since she arrived. The slightest glimmer of hope had appeared, and Hermione could help but rejoice in that small marvel.
In the Dungeon.
"Can you even fathom how many people would be after you in a heart beat? Ready to murder you as soon as they got the chance. Hermione, bloody hell, I don't think that I could stand seeing people try and do that to you."
She was shocked that she hadn’t remembered it before. She knew what day it was, with or without a calendar.
We have Forever.
But the hope that he would see her again clung to him. They had forever to be together afterall.
JOIN HARRY POTTER FANFICTION
Get access to every new feature the moment it comes out.Register Today!