Loooooong chapter, and a warning. If you're afraid of spiders, read on with caution! I'm like Ron X 1000 and yet I could write this yucky scene. Maybe it was cathartic?


Chapter Twenty-Five: Taking a Stand


5 Jan. (morning)

“Oh my God, what did I do?” he said out loud as he paced in his room. Draco was nervous, jumpy, as if he’d had a few too many caffeinated drinks. Surely his aunt would notice that Hermione had healed faster than nature allowed. She’d notice how clean she was, too. “What the was I thinking?!” he continued. Yes, he knew he’d done the right thing, but was he prepared for the repercussions? He threw himself in the shower, keeping the water uncomfortably cold just to ensure he didn’t hyperventilate and pass out.

Despite his panic, however, another feeling simmered just underneath. He couldn’t quite name it at first, but it felt good. Last night, he reclaimed something he hadn’t had for as long as he could remember. Control. Control of his own decisions, his own thoughts, his own convictions. His entire life had been controlled for him- by his family, his lineage, the Dark Lord, his blood status, by all the expectations placed on his overburdened young shoulders. It was why he bullied everyone at school; intimidating others was the only control he had. He didn’t want to be controlled anymore. Choosing his own path last night was oddly thrilling- amazing how fantastic it felt to make a stupid little decision like that, he mused. Of course he knew it wasn’t stupid at all, nor was it insignificant. He just wasn’t ready to admit how profoundly it had affected him.

He was also completely unprepared for the other feelings that were developing inside him. Caring for Hermione, building her up instead of tearing her down, wanting to protect her: so un-Malfoy, so very un-Death Eater. But it fulfilled a need within him he didn’t even know he had. Last night his heart had felt so warm, so big, as if it had grown a size larger. And he loved the feeling.

It was so strange; just the day before he had been blown away by the power he had summoned while casting the Cruciatus Curse. Now he felt a new kind of power growing, one he realized could actually surpass the other. For the first time, he understood how his mother could always make him feel safe even in the presence of his father. Her love was the most powerful thing he’d ever experienced, for it had kept him both sane and human through a childhood that could have, should have, destroyed him. And he knew without question- that was the kind of power he wanted. He wanted the power to shelter Hermione just as his mother did for him. He wasn’t going to participate in any more torture. Not on Hermione, not on anyone. He was done.

He found his father downstairs and pulled him aside. With more conviction than usual he said, “Dad, I’m not going to go down with Aunt Bella today. I’d rather work on my potions.” Lucius waved a dismissive hand. “You can do that anytime. You have more to learn from your aunt today.” OK, how to make this clearer? “No, Dad- I’m really not going down there today. I’ve seen enough and I don’t wish to see anymore.” There. Let’s see how this goes over.

Lucius’s face grew stern. “Has your mother been talking to you? This is not the time to crawl away like an infant because you’re not ‘comfortable’ with what you see. You’ll grow up and act like a man. Clearly you need more practice at getting your hands dirty. Now I suggest you get down those stairs; your aunt is already there.” Yep- about as well as I expected. OK, do I go suicidal and refuse one more time? “I’m not going.” He looked his father directly in the eye. Whoa- one pinch of control and I’m feelin’ reckless!

Lucius narrowed his eyes and leaned into Draco, planting his serpent cane in the familiar spot on his son’s chest. “Now you listen to me, boy,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “When you become a Death Eater, do you think you’ll be able to tell the Dark Lord ‘no’, that you ‘don’t want to’, when he gives you an order?” He pushed Draco back into the wall. “You have finally begun living up to your potential-don’t you dare disappoint me now! You’d better learn to obey commands immediately. Now get down those stairs before I take out my wand!”

With that, Lucius effectively shut down the argument. Frustrated and defeated, Draco turned around and marched down the stairs, punching the wall as he descended. Why does he have to be so hard? And I just keep letting him dictate every move I make. Scowling, he made his way to the interrogation room.

His heart constricted and he felt a cold, wet blanket of dread settle on top of him. He imagined just running away, down one of the hidden passages and outside where he could simply hide until it was all over. Why did he have to go in there if he didn’t want to?! But then, the crack in the wall of his heart let in a new thought. But I can’t hide. I can’t leave her in there, alone, with her. I have to be there for her. It made no sense, but he knew it was true. He chose his own path for the second time and opened the door.

Two heads snapped up at his arrival. Bellatrix turned and faced her nephew. “Did you know, Draco, that a miraculous healing event took place right here in this room last night?” He fought to maintain his composure, to keep his eyes unreadable. “Bones mended, bruises gone, skin all clean and shiny? How do you think that could have happened?” Her tone was light and innocent, but there was wrath in her eyes.

She stood up and stopped mere inches away from Draco. “Surely you didn’t help the Mudblood, did you?” Though he was skilled at Occlumency, he was no match for his aunt’s Legilimens. She saw everything within seconds. He held his breath as she stood there, silently examining him. Then her hand arced up toward him, and she struck him hard with the back of her hand. The rings on her hand sliced through his cheek and the force of the blow nearly knocked him off balance. “How DARE you undo my punishments?! Who do you THINK YOU ARE?!” She continued to rant. “Feeling sorry for the little Mudblood? Did you want to hold her hand and kiss her and make her all better? You disgust me!” She spat on the floor.

Draco didn’t dare to move- he’d seen her in these moods before. She put her face in his. “If you weren’t my nephew I’d curse you into oblivion right now,” she growled. Draco quickly fed her a speech that would hopefully keep his head attached to his body. “I’m sorry, Auntie! I was just freaked out by yesterday- I don’t know what came over me. I-I just lost my head. It had nothing to do with the Mudblood; I-I don’t care about her! It was all about…what I did in here; it made me sick and I wanted to erase it. I just didn’t have the stomach for it yesterday.” He prayed, ironically, that Bellatrix believed him and that Hermione did not.

His answer seemed to placate his aunt just enough to keep him alive. “Well, you’d better find the stomach today, got it?” she warned him. He nodded and put his hands up in surrender. Bellatrix relaxed and turned back to Hermione. “Now where was I, Mudblood?” Hermione’s chest started heaving and she looked at Draco. He caught her gaze and willed her to understand with his eyes. He couldn’t tell if she did, however, because her face contorted in pain and she shrieked so loud it hurt his ears. Hermione’s screams shook the wall around his heart violently, rending huge cracks in it. He never knew it could hurt so much to watch her in pain.

His aunt knew Hermione's body was near its breaking point, so Bellatrix gave her a break from her physical assaults and turned instead to psychological torture. She conjured up terrifying visions only Hermione could see, from thousands of ants crawling on her to her parents being murdered. Hermione thrashed and wailed as the visions seemed completely real to her. Draco felt that his sanity was being shredded as well; he could only take so much more of Hermione’s torture before he came out of his own skin.

Bellatrix halted her assault, leaving the room for a few minutes. Hermione lay panting in a pool of sweat as she looked about the room wildly, trying to discern reality from nightmare. For the first time, Draco spoke to her. “It’s not real, none of it was real,” he whispered soothingly. She locked eyes with him, still shaking, and started to cry. Draco felt a few stones come loose from his wall and fall away, and he did the only thing he knew to comfort her. He hesitantly put his hand on her head and stroked her hair gently; it was the same gesture his mother used to comfort him since he was a baby. He continued stroking her hair, quietly whispering “Shh” as his mum always did. He felt her relax a little under his touch and felt warmth spreading through his body. The wall lost a few more stones.

He quickly pulled away as he heard his aunt’s footsteps approaching. Hermione’s eyes snapped open at the absence of his touch and she looked fearfully at the door. Draco stood back, scared and frustrated by not knowing what to do. Bellatrix sauntered in, holding a bowl and a dark, medium-sized box. She looked too happy; Draco felt his whole body tense as he anticipated her next sick game.

Bellatrix dipped her hand in the bowl and sprinkled the liquid over Hermione. It looked and felt just like water, but had a slightly sweet aroma. Neither Hermione nor Draco knew what to make of it, which made it more unnerving. Bellatrix giggled as she held up the box, making Draco’s stomach drop into his feet. “It’s just a bit of sugar water, sweetie-it’s not going to burn you. But my pet is hungry, and now you taste like his favorite food.”

She removed the lid of the box and reached her hand inside. When she drew it out, the creature was sitting in her palm. It was a large black spider, though unlike any common variety. It took up most of her hand; coarse hair covered its body, and small spikes, like miniature thorns, protruded from its jointed legs. It sat completely still in Bellatrix’s hand, but its double set of pincers clicked audibly as tiny strands of saliva dripped from its mouth.

Draco’s eyes were as wide as saucers; Hermione let out a horrified shriek and drew back on the table, straining against her bindings with all her might. Bellatrix chuckled and wandlessly pulled Hermione flat and tightened the bindings. “Oh My God No Please Don’t Put It On Me!!!” she begged. But Bellatrix grinned a terrible grin and tipped her hand; the spider slid off and landed on Hermione’s belly. For a moment Hermione froze- no sound, no breathing, no movement- as the creature stood motionless.

But then it moved. Hermione let out a blood-curdling scream as the spider began to crawl across her body. Its spiky legs scraped her skin as it climbed up and over her bra. “GET IT OFF ME!!! GET IT OFF ME!!!!” she screamed like someone who’d gone mad. She screamed it over and over as the spider scuttled across her chest and onto her shoulder. Draco found his own sanity being torn to pieces; involuntarily he clapped his hands over his ears, unable to tolerate the screaming any longer. The hideous creature traveled up her arm all the way to her wrist and then crawled back down. It settled at the rounded top of her right breast, above her bra. Though it seemed veritably impossible, Hermione’s shrieks became louder and shriller. Her eyes widened with unmitigated terror and she screamed, “IT’S BITING ME!!! OH GOD IT’S BITING ME!!!!!" Draco heard her clearly despite his covered ears. He looked on in horror as the thing clamped down on her tender skin with its pincers, taking bite after bite. Hermione was bleeding where it sliced through her skin, her blood mixing grotesquely with its saliva. He couldn’t take another second, not one more second of this. Barely conscious of what he was doing, Draco whipped out his wand and pointed it at the monstrous animal. He shouted, “REDUCTO!” and, with perfect aim, blasted the creature into a thousand pieces.

Everyone in the room was motionless for a moment. Draco was frozen in position, panting, his wand still raised. Hermione was too stunned by the blast to move. Bellatrix stood with her mouth open, staring at the miniscule remains of her pet on the floor. She snapped out of it first. Draco’s wand flew out of his hand and into her own and, with a cry of rage, she swept her wand and threw him against the wall. His head hit the stone with a sickening smack and he slumped to the ground.

She levitated him, crashing him into the ceiling and letting him drop to the hard floor. He gave a loud moan of pain and she picked him up again, holding him aloft in front of her. “You insolent little brat!!” She threw him to the ground and kicked him hard in the ribs, twice. “You dare to use your wand against ME?! I’ll rip your head off, nephew or no nephew!!” She hit him with a powerful Cruciatus and he went rigid, his screams rivaling those of Hermione’s. She punished him for a full minute before she released the curse and stood over him.

“That’s the last straw, Draco,” she fumed. “You’ll never draw a wand on me again.” She cast an Ennervate spell that instantly brought him back to consciousness. She wanted his full attention before she continued. “I can’t kill you, I can’t permanently injure you, but I can hit you in another place that will hurt.” She held up his wand and placed one hand on either end. Draco sat up as straight as he could and looked at her in horror. “No, don’t, please Auntie-” SNAP!
His wand splintered in her hands as she broke it in half. He felt the break physically, as though something had also snapped in his spine, and a chill ran through him as the warmth of his magic evaporated from his body. He leaned forward on his hands, pale and shaken, and Bellatrix tossed the pieces of his wand in front of him. She walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. He felt the tears come then, hot on his face, pouring like a river through a broken dam. He wept uncontrollably, not just for the loss of his wand, but for everything that was so very wrong- his aunt’s cruelty, Hermione’s torture, his utter helplessness to rescue her, to take control of his life, to get his father to listen to him just once, to refuse the death sentence that would soon be branded on his arm. There’s no escape, is there? he thought dejectedly.

He heard a small sound- a weak, whispery voice-float down from the table above him. “Draco…are you…alright?” He shook his head. She’s been through hell and back and she’s asking me if I’m alright. “Why do you care?” he said softly. “Because…you helped me… when I’ve needed it the most.” He forced himself to stand, balancing himself against the table and focusing his eyes on Hermione. He scowled at her. “What, I cleaned your face and patted your head? Big deal. I killed that ugly thing that was snacking on you? So what?! It’s not like it makes up for anything I’ve done to you in six bloody years!” As soon as he saw her face he realized what he’d said. He couldn’t take it back. He wanted to take it back…no, he didn’t want to take it back. What he said was true. Draco felt something break inside him and an unbelievable pain stabbed him straight through his heart. The wall came crumbling down.

His tears splashed on her arm and his body heaved with the strength of his sobs. “All the things I’ve said…I’ve done…to hurt you. I’ve…hated you. You’ve been…nothing…but a label…to me. A symbol of…of what I’m supposed to hate. But you’re not…you’re not! You’re a girl…a sweet…beautiful, scared girl…and I can’t help you…I can’t save you!” His body was wracked with grief as he poured out his heart to her. “I’m…so…sorry…H-Hermione. I’m so, so…sorry. I was wrong, I am wrong…all wrong. You can’t thank me…you can’t care about me…because…you just…can’t…” He fell to his knees and gripped the table, leaning his head against the edge. He couldn’t see the tears streaming down Hermione’s face.

“Draco, please…listen to me. I do care… I do. Your…kindness here, your comfort- it’s the only thing that’s keeping me going…it’s all I have. Please, don’t take it away. I…I need you.” Slowly, he stood up. He leaned in close to her and placed his hand on her arm. Eyes still shining with tears, he whispered, “I’m so sorry for everything.” She looked up at him. “I know you are. I believe you. And…I forgive you.” He shook his head incredulously. “You can’t!” She fixed a serious gaze at him. “I just did. What you’ve done for me these past two days means more than anything you did to me for six years. You gave me far more than a ‘pat on the head’ while I’ve been here- you’ve cared for me. You’ve given me hope. Forgiving you doesn’t excuse what you’ve done, but it gives you what everyone deserves- a second chance.”

A wellspring of resolve bubbled up inside of him at that moment. Taking her face in his hands, he fixed his eyes on hers, cool grey locking with deep brown. “I’m going to get you out of here, Hermione. I don’t know how, but I swear to you I’ll get you out.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and then, instinctively, leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. He turned to go but she stopped him immediately. “Draco! Please…don’t go. Please stay with me. I’m so scared.” He turned back and nodded his head, too emotional to speak. He leaned over her and stroked her hair again, resting his forehead lightly on hers. They stayed there, eyes closed, and simply breathed together. It was the closest thing to peace she’d felt in days, and the closest he’d felt in years.