Welcome to our story, 'Broken Souls.'

The characters in this story strictly belong to J.K. Rowling, we're just playing with her toys.

Enjoy the Fic!

Chapter One

Draco Malfoy stood with his head held high in the corner of Malfoy Manor, fighting back tears and forcing himself not to vomit. He couldn't look weak, not now, not ever. Not with his father here to judge him or his aunt looking at him from time to time to gauge his reaction. He was well aware that he was supposed to enjoy this, a filthy mudblood being tortured to death. The way she screamed for mercy as she writhed on the floor of his home was supposed to sound like music to his ears. He was supposed to thrive knowing that the filth was finally getting what she deserved, but he couldn't.

All of those years of his father telling him how disgusting and filthy mudbloods were, how they were a disgrace to the Wizarding World, how incompetent they were, stealing magic from powerful pureblood families - such as the Fawley's or the Shafiq's - how dirty their blood was and how it was literally muddy. After years on end of having those things drilled into his head as fact, Draco believed him. He looked up to his father and aspired to be just like him. He took pride in being a Malfoy, the purest of the Wizarding World and one of the oldest families in Wizarding Britain, tracing as far back as the tenth century. His family was among the wealthiest and one of the elite Sacred Twenty-Eight. He believed to be superior, more powerful, more intelligent than them. Than her.

Now, as he watched Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Princess, and Brightest Witch of Her Age, writhe under Aunt Bella's Cruciatus, he wasn't so sure if what his father had told him was true. How could it be, when she outsmarted him in every single one of their classes since first year? She didn't repulse him during their fourth year when she attended the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum. She actually looked… classier than some of the pureblood witches he knew. She wasn't barbaric, she wasn't stupid, and she wasn't filthy. She was a witch that was capable of holding her own.

'Oh, how much had changed since the Dark Lord - No.' He chided himself, 'You cannot think those thoughts. They will get you killed.'

A movement to his right caught his attention and Draco looked over to see Theodore Nott, whose own eyes were blank, in classic Slytherin fashion, and met his gaze with a nod. He tried to stifle his feelings and remain composed, the way his parents had always taught him to, the way Theo's father also had taught him to. He felt the slightest relief, glad that his best mate was here with him and he wasn't alone. That feeling was gone before it came as his eyes fell to the one thing he tried his hardest to ignore.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix Lestrange screeched, pointing her wand at the helpless girl, who was writhing and screaming at the top of her lungs.

"I don't know anything! Please stop! Please!" Hermione begged as she thrashed this way and that, his breath hitching as he watched on helplessly.

Draco stared, fear threatening his eyes, but his face still stone cold. His classmate was on the floor before him, and while he knew he shouldn't care for the Mudblood, he couldn't help but sympathize with her. He knew all too well what a Cruciatus curse did to someone. Granger's screams pierced through his body, reaching his core. He thought for sure he would vomit, and fearing the repercussions of doing so, averted his eyes to the ceiling, as if there was something much more interesting up there. He couldn't break, not now. If he did, they would all die.

His family was not in the Dark Lord's good graces. After his father's failure at the Ministry to obtain the prophecy in his fifth year and his own failed attempt to kill Albus Dumbledore the year following, they were on very thin ice. He knew his aunt would turn on them the minute the Dark Lord snapped his fingers and asked for each of their heads on a platter. Family didn't mean much to her, not the way it should have.

"PLEASE!" Hermione begged once again, tears streaming down her face as Draco snapped his eyes to the young witch, her cries breaking him from his thoughts.

His aunt, Bellatrix, let out a hearty, maniacal laugh as she watched the young witch squirm under her curse. Draco knew that his aunt was deranged, but to see her actually enjoy herself at such a thing made his blood run cold.

Draco could see Granger had given up on any hopes of being saved. The light that usually glimmered in her eyes were slowly dimming. Her face, once warm and glowing was now pale from being under such a horrid curse for so long, it made her look sick. Her hair clung to her skin from the moisture of her sweat and the blood she shed was now crusted and made her look even more like death. He could see the fight leaving her body as she laid there, defeated. He knew this wasn't right. He could feel it in his gut that it wasn't, but he couldn't do anything but stand there and stare, pretending it didn't bother him. Pretending he enjoyed watching her pain. After all, she was just a filthy little Mudblood, right?

Bellatrix lifted the curse and reached down into her boot to remove a dagger. She walked towards where Granger laid, with a twisted smile taking over her already evil exterior. She yanked Granger's arm and extended it, as she knelt down to keep her from moving. He watched his aunt press the blade to Granger's arm and Draco could see the defiant look in her eyes as she refused to scream and opted instead to silently cry. He wouldn't blame her if she did scream and kick and show how much pain she was actually in. He knew he would have caved in, he did every time he was under that wretched curse.

"Trying to be brave, are we?" His sick aunt had taunted. She pressed the dagger with more force and Granger let out a scream laced with torture. He slowly closed his eyes, wishing for it all to be over with.

"That's a good girl," Bellatrix cooed, her tongue barely grazing Granger's ear.

Draco looked on to see what his aunt was doing. She appeared to be carving something into Granger's arm, and his eyes widened when he saw the result. "Mudblood," it read. Blood seeped down Granger's left arm and trickled slowly to the floor of his home. The Muggle-Born was now branded, her heritage displayed for all to see. Knots turned in Draco's stomach; he knew he wouldn't be able to take any more, especially with his own mind torturing him.

'Help her', his mind pleaded. 'Help your classmate! How can you sit there and watch, you're just as sick as the rest of them!'

Draco watched as Bellatrix stood over Granger, and began to curse her once again.

"CRUCIO!" Her voice echoed.

Draco's jaw clenched, his nails digging into the palms of his hands, refusing to loosen them as he noticed her eyes landing on him. 'Why is she looking at me?' He thought. 'Stop looking at me! I can't do anything!' Yet, he refused to take his eyes off of her. The deep brown orbs were pulling him closer to her, pleading with him.

'Help me,' Granger mouthed silently in between screaming.

Draco pondered whether or not he had actually seen correctly. Was she really asking him to help her? 'You can't help her, you'll get yourselves killed,' he told himself. Before he could really think about the consequences of actually doing what his peer was asking of him, he found himself already walking to where the two witches were. He shrugged off the hand that held him back by the shoulder, wanting to do what he could to stop this, but knowing he should stay put.

"Draco, don't-" Theo quietly pleaded with him, his mate's plea falling on deaf ears. He needed to save this girl, even if she was supposed to be everything he detested.

"Stop!" He blurted out.

Aside from Granger's sobbing, the room had fallen quiet. Everyone in the room was now looking at him, appalled at what the young wizard had just done.

"Draco?" His aunt asked accusingly, "What did you say to me?"

For a moment, Draco was unsure of what was happening.

"You dare to defy the Dark Lord?" Bellatrix spat, pulling him from his thoughts. "Answer me!"

Though he heard his aunt speak, Draco offered nothing in response. He was frozen, fear captivating his entire body.

"Crucio!" His aunt cursed at him, her wand unwavering and her voice full of power.

Draco sank to his knees as the pain began to course through his body.

"Traitor!" She yelled at him.

"Bella, please! That's my son!" Narcissa cried to her sister.

"Enough, Cissy! We have no use for a blood traitor."

Draco could feel every bone in his body become infected with the curse, as it grew more and more potent behind his aunt's wand.

"You can't be serious!" Narcissa said.

"The cause is greater than family, Cissy." Bellatrix told her sister, her voice deadly calm.

The witch withdrew her power from behind the Unforgivable, allowing Draco a moment's peace. His eyes frantically wandered between his mother and her sister.

"We must set an example for the others." Bellatrix said.

At that moment, Bellatrix raised her wand towards Draco once again.

"Bella! No!" Narcissa screamed.

Slowly, Draco's eyes roamed around the room before he locked eyes with his aunt. Her eyes were pitch black, devoid of any sympathy for her nephew. He could feel a singular tear slide down the side of his face, as he knew what was coming.

"Avada Kedavra!" She spat.

Draco awoke from his sleep, startled. His breath was caught in his throat, his heart had sunk to his stomach. Lifting his head from the window, he peered out to see that he was still in fact aboard the Hogwarts Express, as the familiar sea of trees zoomed by.

Here goes another year, he thought to himself. He looked around his compartment, which was only occupied by the only other Slytherins returning to Hogwarts for their eighth year.

Theodore Nott was leaned back against the seat across from him, appearing to have fallen asleep. His arms were crossed in a protective manner in front of his chest, and Draco also noticed that Theo's wand was firmly grasped in one of his fists.

Pansy Parkinson was seated next to Theo, and maintained a nearly identical demeanor to the wizard next to her. The only difference was that one leg was crossed over the other.

Draco looked at his friends, thankful that he would not have to face Hogwarts alone. As a condition of his sentencing, he was to return to Hogwarts to complete his final year of education. While Draco did not enjoy the thought of having to face the rest of his classmates - many of them who fought on the opposite side of the war - he found this to be preferable to his other option, time in Azkaban. A tired yawn escaped Draco's lips as he quietly dreaded the arrival to the castle and the inevitable scrutiny that he would soon find himself under.

Tree after tree passed, blurring together as the Hogwarts Express went about on the journey to the school. As the train came to a halt indicating the last stop, Draco gently shook Theo awake. As the second wizard wiped the sleep from his eyes, he awoke Pansy from her sleep as well. The three of them sat in silence for a moment before standing to retrieve their belongings from the cupboards above. As he was taught, Draco allowed Pansy to exit their compartment first, and then waved Theo before following suit as well.

Unlike how he would have sauntered about with his head high, Draco couldn't help but feel uneasy and directed his eyes to his feet. He stepped forward to deboard the train and felt someone bump into him.

Prompted by the unwelcome touch, Draco looked beside him so he could glare at whoever the guilty party was, but was instead met by the familiar brown bushy hair of none other than the Brains of the Golden Trio: Hermione Granger, in the flesh. Much to his surprise, she was also returning to complete her eighth year, instead of taking one of the many Ministry jobs that Draco was sure she was offered following the war.

"Sorry," she murmured.

She looked up, meeting Draco's stare. For a moment, they stood there, neither sure of what to do. Draco hadn't come face to face with Hermione since the Battle of Hogwarts, and he found that it was more of a challenge these days to meet her gaze. She was no longer just the bushy haired walking encyclopedia, but the famed war heroine as well. The longer Draco stared at her, the more he was painfully aware of how the war had changed them all. He noticed that the Muggle-Born's brown orbs no longer contained any warmth, instead they were cold and devoid of the joy that was once there. Or perhaps it was because of who she was looking at, he thought to himself.

Pulling himself from the awkwardness that was now between them, Draco gave the witch a slight nod and gestured for her to go before him. Hermione stepped forward, rushing off, and did not once look back.

Great, Draco sighed. This is going to be a terrible year.