A/N: Hello! This little fic popped into my head while I was watching the seventh movie, and I thought, why not. I probably won't continue it, but who knows. Enjoy!

Hermione Granger stood in the middle of the Malfoy manor parlor, staring around at the assorted Death Eaters and shaking.

Draco stood at a distance, not making eye contact with anyone. He really didn't want to be here. Bellatrix had a nasty habit of trying to get him involved in her torture sessions, and Draco had no stomach for it. He preferred subtly crushing words to cruciatus curses, thank-you very much.

Hermione sniffled into the deathly quiet room, and Lucius Malfoy eyed her disdainfully.

Draco wished she would stop looking, so… pathetic. It was unnerving. Of course, he could understand how she felt. It sort of scared him to be in this house, and he lived there.

Draco watched from behind the sofa as Bellatrix began screaming questions at Hermione.

The girl was crying, and obviously didn't know whatever Bellatrix wanted her to know, but his aunt had never been insightful when it came to people, and she would probably keep questioning her regardless.

Bellatrix was starting to get frustrated. He heard her growl, "Crucio!" and hurriedly began picking at his chewed fingernails. His jaw clenched as a pained scream echoed around the vaulted ceiling. The sound lingered even after the curse had ended, hovering in the air. Or maybe it was just in Draco's head.

As he had feared, Bellatrix stomped over to where Draco was attempting to hide. "Draco, darling, why don't you try. She knows you, perhaps she'll talk to you." A smile broke over her face as he nodded gloomily. There was never any happiness in his aunt's smiles- only hate.

Draco dragged his feet across the carpet as he walked. Hermione was lying on the floor, crying quietly. He crouched on the floor next to her, so she could hear his low voice, but none of the others could.

"Granger-" He tried to force his voice into its usual lazy drawl, but found it impossible. "Granger, seriously. What did you take from her vault?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "We- we didn't take anything, we just f-found the sword. I don't even know what she thinks we've t-taken."

Draco could hear Bellatrix tapping her high-heeled boots on the marbled stone of the fireplace.

"Listen, Granger. She is going to kill you, just tell her what she wants to know!"

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know," she whimpered, tears pooling under her eyes.

Draco sighed and went to stand up, but Hermione's hand grasped at his sleeve. "Draco-"

He had never heard her call him by his first name before. It sounded odd, coming from her trembling lips. Indeed, he had never seen her so terrified before. It scared him a little. She was always so stubborn, so calm, so sure.

He abruptly stood up, and addressed his aunt. "She doesn't know anything. I've known her for seven years; she couldn't lie to save her life."

Bellatrix looked annoyed, then shrugged. "One of the other brats will tell me something then, we'll make sure of that. Especially after they've see what happened to their little mute friend." She smiled wickedly, waving her wand back and forth.

Draco shuffled his feet nervously. "Maybe we should just let the snatchers taker her back to the Ministry. I mean, if they start to think they won't be rewarded for their catches, they'll stop working, and-"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and pushed past him. "Oh, Draco, you worry too much for someone your age."

Draco hurriedly stepped in front of her again. "I really think-"

This time, Bellatrix stopped, her eyes cold. "I see now. You've gone soft, Draco. The Dark Lord won't be happy to hear that, now will he? Move aside or I'll be sure to mention this to him."

Draco's heart clenched in his chest at the mention of Voldemort. After a long moment, he stepped aside.

His heart beat loudly in his ears as Bellatrix circled Hermione, like a vulture surveying a corpse.

No, no, no, no. This wasn't right. He'd never minded seeing her humiliated, crying, or sad, but dead? Dead was different.

Bellatrix raised her wand above her head, and without thinking about it, without even knowing what he was doing, Draco leapt. He knocked into Bellatrix, sending the killing curse across the room where it shattered an ugly but expensive vase. He slid across the slick floor, grabbed at Hermione's shaking hand, and disapparated.

. . .

Draco swore loudly and repeatedly as they reappeared on a grassy hilltop several miles from the Malfoy manor. Its tall spires were still visible in the distance, like sharp, black teeth in a sinister smile.

"What did I just do. What did I just do. What did I just do?"

He flumped down on the grass, lying face-first in a patch of clover. That was it, it was over. He was a dead man. He had just defied his family, not to mention the soulless evil madman whom he had once called "Lord" so willingly. Dead, dead, dead. Dead.

Hermione had sat up, and said in a shaky voice, "M-Malfoy? How- how did you- why?"

Draco groaned into the dirt. He didn't even have an answer to give.

Because he was insane and had a psychotic death wish?

Hermione edged closer to him. "I'd been trying to apparate out since we got there, but I gave up- I thought there was an enchantment preventing apparition."

Still not bothering to lift his head out of the grass, Draco said in a monotone, "There is. But my father, underhanded as he is, made it so anyone with Malfoy blood could still come and go as they pleased." He rolled onto his side and looked at his hands, and the blood flowing uselessly through them. "I've got that, see."

Hermione had no idea what was happening, or why Draco had had such a sudden change of heart, but she wasn't about to question it. Instead, she timidly placed a hand on his arm.

"Draco? This is-this is a lot to ask, but… Harry and Ron- I have to go back to save them."

"Go back?" She was crazier than he was. But he was crazy, wasn't he? What was one more bout of insanity? "Fine. They'll be in the dungeon. My famil- the Death Eaters will probably still be in shock, there's a chance they haven't offed them all yet. You… you stay here."

"But-" But Draco had already disapparated.

. . .

As much as Draco had avoided the dungeons the seventeen years he lived at Malfoy manor, he had no problem picturing it in his mind. With a faint pop, he reappeared in a dark cell. A rat squeaked and fled around the corner, but otherwise it seemed deserted. Draco stepped carefully over an old bloodstain and came face to face with Luna Lovegood.

She didn't look particularly surprised to see him. "Oh, hello Draco," she said pleasantly. "What are you doing here? Are you looking for wrackspurts? There's quite a few of them down here, they love the mildew."

Before Draco had a chance to think of a response, a wild-eyed Ron Weasley had punched him in the face.

"Where's Hermione?"

Draco tapped his nose gingerly. Yup, broken.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron repeated angrily.

"Ugh, Weasley, you are an idiot. I don't have time to deal with you now, get the others."

Harry Potter jogged over and looked at him interestedly. "Why, Malfoy? Has daddy given you permission to torture us some?"

These people were impossible. Here he was, risking himself to save them, and all they can do is ask stupid questions. "Luna, could you get everyone that's down here over here, quickly?"

Luna skipped away. Draco shook his head. Trust Loony Lovegood to be the sane one right now. Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were wordlessly glowering at him. They flinched as he pulled his wand out of his pocket, but Draco ignored them. He tapped his nose, whispering Episki, and with a sickening crunch, it slid back into place. Draco grimaced, wiping blood from his nose with his sleeve, as Luna returned with a stout goblin and an elderly man.

"Alright, quickly, everyone grab onto me."

Luna and the old man did so, but the other three did nothing but look at him skeptically.

The dungeon door banged open, and Bellatrix leapt down the stairs, followed closely by Lucius, who slid down the last few. Harry, Ron, and the goblin hastily grabbed onto Draco's outstretched arm, and Draco smiled grimly at his father before disappearing into nothingness.

. . .

As soon as they reappeared on the grassy hill, Hermione squealed and ran to greet the escaped prisoners. As Ron engaged her in an awkwardly long embrace, Draco collapsed on the grass again and distractedly looked through the clover patch for a four-leaf. A bit of luck never hurt.

He found a likely looking one, but was disappointed to find it was a split three-leaf. Useless superstitions. A shadow fell over the ground, and he looked up to see Hermione smiling at him. That was a first.

Draco stood up, thinking he might go to the arctic for a while. He had always liked snow. Hermione was still looking at him.

"Draco, I… thank-you." And she hugged him.

Draco was so shocked, all he could do was awkwardly hug her back. It felt… good. Warm. He felt safe, for the first time in a long time. Like maybe, just maybe… there was hope for him yet.