Chapter 1: Epiphany

While Hermione had initially tried her best not to cry, it had soon become beyond her control. Her body reacted violently to the unheard-of curses that she was subjected to. In response to her gut-wrenching screams, that echoed throughout Malfoy Manor, was the shrill cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange at her side. Hermione tried not to concentrate on what felt like the relentless stabbing of needles in her legs, or the stench from the yellow rotting teeth of the witch hexing her.

Bellatrix's eyes grew wide in disgust, insulted by Hermione's defiance. Shifting her weight, she dug her knees further into Hermione's stomach. Hermione desperately strained beneath her. Though it was useless, she could not help but try to escape, failing each time. Bellatrix cocked her head to the side, lowering her lips to Hermione's ear, "You pathetic little Mudblood, I will ask you one more time... was. that. boy. Harry. Potter?... NAME HIM!"

Hermione closed her eyes and kept her mouth shut tight, so as to not confront Bellatrix's eyes or her spit. Between questions about the Sword of Gryffindor and Harry, she admitted to nothing, but Bellatrix's breath was foul, enough to force a cough from her. Before she knew it, another curse was thrown at her body. Losing what little sense of control she had left, Hermione released a cracked scream that faded into nothing.

Bellatrix stood over her victim, hands on hips, put out that she had not remained conscious enough to suffer more of her hexes. "Pathetic Mudbloods." She wiped her nose with her sleeve, tilting her head in study of the broken girl below her. "This is making me rather peckish." She then knelt down low to whisper in Hermione's ear, "Don't worry filth, I'll be back for more." Bellatrix kicked her for good measure, then proudly stepped over Hermione's limp body and walked away to another area of the manor.

The clicking of her heels could be heard echoing further and further away until the room was quiet. A heavy silence settled upon the room decorated with gothic carpets, large fireplaces, that fit the high ceilings with gigantic chandeliers. It might have appeared to be a nice residence if it was not congested with dark magic that choked the air, making it cold and miserable.

Hermione lay in the middle of the drawing room, blood dripping from her arm, soaking into the carpet. Although she was abandoned, she was not alone.

Apprehensively, her old school-nemesis, Draco Malfoy, lurked in an arched entryway nearby. He had heard her screams and rushed over and took witness to his Aunt torturing her. With his pale skin, fair hair, and light gray eyes, he looked like a ghost as he stared at the figure laying in the middle of the room.

Draco could not believe Hermione Granger was currently helpless on his sitting room floor. Despite usually being quick-witted and clever, his mind was filled with an overwhelming numbness. He knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew it would lead to certain death and the torture of his parents. Even to think of helping a Muggle-born was already a crime, according to the Dark Lord.

He had teased Hermione in the past, calling her a Mudblood, but that had been out of immaturity, to make himself feel stronger and better, but also to hide his true self. It had never occurred to him that it might come to this. Draco internally cursed Potter for getting caught. Though he mostly despised himself and his place in this game.

A far away sound caused him to glance down a hallway to where it had come. He had an idea to go to the dungeons and unlatch the cell door to where Potter and Weasley were placed. Maybe let them free without anyone's notice, the least he could do after everything.

Then he looked back to Bellatrix's victim, and dared to think that there wouldn't be any harm in walking over to see her. But what if she were to wake? What if she screamed? What if Bellatrix came in? He looked around, wishing he could use a charm to hide himself, but so many were blocked by the Dark Lord in his lack of trust. He closed his eyes and exhaled, convincing himself that she did not belong to Bellatrix.

Finally, after all his years of hiding, he abruptly got the courage to walk over to Hermione Granger.

One cautious step at a time, he approached, on constant alert for the possibility of anyone entering the room to take witness. He had already prepared a few excuses as to why he was there; To take her to the dungeons, or, to gather wands left behind by the prisoners.

He did not expect how he might feel or react, being this close, but as he stood over her, he felt a lump in his throat. Tears began to swell in his eyes, his nostrils flared as his breathing quickened. He instinctively bent down to feel her pulse, and a wave of warmth came over him when he felt a heartbeat. One of her arms, he noticed, was dripping with fresh blood where it appeared Bellatrix had etched something into the flesh of her forearm. It looked like words, but Draco could not read it just then.

He stared at her and thought, I've never known her to be so calm, but-I've never known her at all.

The thought gave him anxiety. If the intense nature of Hermione Granger could become still and muted, what else could happen? Is this real? Is this how it all ends?

He could feel his heart racing as he filtered through options in his mind. He was sick of the war, but seeing her here, this way, pushed him to the edge. There was nothing more to lose. Suddenly, he heard a rustling noise nearby and glanced up to search for the source of the disturbance. Frantically, he ran through the excuses he had thought up earlier, while also thinking how he could hide or leave before the intruder had witnessed him there at all.

Before he could make a decision, he recognized the approaching figure of his mother. Unlike her sister Bellatrix, who had always been dark and commanding, Narcissa Malfoy was softer and more passive. Her white-blond hair was not the only thing she passed on to him, all of her love and energy had been devoted to him as well.

However, at this very moment Draco felt invaded by his mother, as if she had interrupted his curiosity toward someone he should be indifferent to. Every click of her heel on the wood floors seemed to match the pulse of his heart.

Narcissa's hands were full of wands and various effects. It was likely that she received instructions to gather all personal items from prisoners, as she looked to be scanning the room for more before spotting her son. They locked eyes, and Draco, feeling as if his mother had caught him stealing potions, lowered his head. Before approaching him, she looked over to notice that he was standing beside Hermione Granger.

Draco was taken aback when his mother nodded in understanding and sprang into action, walking swiftly over to him. For a moment, he thought she might help him walk away from the situation and assign him some other task issued by the Dark Lord.

Instead she whispered, "Draco, wait here."

Perplexed, Draco shoved his hands in his robes, the pads of his fingers rubbing the tips of his nails nervously, obediently waiting for his mother to return.

Narcissa seemed to have reappeared as quickly as she had left, holding what Draco recognized to be his messenger bag. This bag was special, it was one his mother had advised him to keep packed for emergencies ever since the Dark Lord had taken over their home.

She handed it to him, and while he held it curiously, she opened it. Then his mother held out all the wands she had collected, presenting them to Draco. He glanced at his mother, wondering if she was thinking the same thing as him. He scanned them and grabbed the wand engraved with vines that he knew belonged to Granger.

Narcissa quickly placed a confiscated purse into his bag and he assertively proceeded to do the same for her wand. His heart raced at what she was implying by joining their possessions into one bag.

Suddenly, a loud 'crack' caused Draco to flinch. He was surprised to see that their old house elf, Dobby, had Apparated near them.

Narcissa seemed pleased, "Dobby, take Draco from the manor and then come back."

Dobby nodded and approached Draco.

Having not seen Dobby in years, Draco was shocked. Did my mother continue to stay in contact with him?

Pulling her son into a strong hug, Narcissa whispered in his ear, "I understand. Take her. Be safe."

For a moment, Draco could only stare at his mother in disbelief. He hesitated, and was about to reply, but was stopped short when they both heard footsteps in the distance.

His mother looked him in the eye with a stern expression and with a short nod, "Go".

Slinging the strap of his bag over his head and across his shoulder, he bent down to pick up Hermione, holding her helpless form against him tightly.

Looking down at her, he wondered, Will she splinch in this state? Will they find us? Who am I to control her fate? Where should I take her?

With a final look at his mother, not knowing if he would ever see her again, he nodded to Dobby. At his signal, the elf took hold of Draco and the three of them Disapparated from the manor.

Note:

Appreciate you taking the time to read, this story has been edited so many times, I hope at least this version is worthy for you to continue. My beta is doing a wonderful job at getting through my work; HeartOfAspen, thank you. :)