Between Fine Lines

Seventeen

As quiet as the elf could, Dobby apparated himself into the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor. Having been the Malfoys elf for so long, Dobby was familiar with all of the rooms in the manor, and it was quite the miserable life he led until Harry Potter set him free. It had already been four years that Dobby was living his life as a free elf, earning himself a proper wage as he worked in the Hogwarts kitchens during the school year, popping in and out to check on his friend Harry Potter.

Dobby looked around at the four confused faces down in the cellar, the girl with blonde hair slowly sinking down to sit on the floor so she could be at eye level with him. "I recognize you, you work at Hogwarts," she gave him a soft smile, a tiredness in her eyes that reminded Dobby exactly how Malfoy Manor made him feel all those years ago.

"That's correct Miss! Dobby the elf at your service," he lowered his voice down to a whisper. "I was sent by Harry Potter, to get you all out of here," he gave a brief nod, watching the tall boy's eyes light up.

"Harry sent you?" Dean questioned quietly, a grin flashing upon his face, but fell quickly. "But... Hermione..." his eyes glanced toward the stairs that led up into the Manor and Dobby's gaze followed Deans. "Where is she? Upstairs?" he questioned, a bit of confusion in his tone. "Dobby will return for Miss Granger! Come quickly," he instructed Griphook and Ollivander to come closer. Luna stood up, grabbing Dean's hand and Dobby's hand, the rest of the group all linking hands slowly. "You have to be careful... when you come back... we heard screaming," Dean pressed his lips together, not feeling very fond of leaving Hermione behind.

"Ready when you are, sir," Luna informed him with another smile. "Sir? Dobby greatly appreciates that, Miss," Dobby nodded happily as he spoke before disapparating the group of them out of the dungeon.

—

Draco was pretty positive he was going to throw up. He was going to throw up all over his black dragonhide shoes and his whole family would see what an utter coward he was, Bellatrix would inform Voldemort and then he would be murdered in front of the whole table of death eaters just like Voldemort did to Professor Burbage and then let Nagini eat him.

His eyes darted around wildly, trying to look at anything, focus on anything other than the sound of Hermione screaming as Bellatrix carved into her arm with her dagger. The moment the blood started to pour from her arm, Lucius had immediately left the room, muttering something about 'not waiting around while there was important business'.

Draco knew the truth, his father was a coward.

None of them wanted this, especially him. He should've been enjoying his final year at Hogwarts right now, participating in Quidditch, besting Potter as the best seeker at Hogwarts, going to Hogsmeade with his friends, hanging out with Theo in the common room after everyone has gone to bed.

All his life, Draco had been taught what to think, how to act, who to hang around. Anybody who wasn't of pure blood was scum, a lower class than him. Purebloods came first, opportunities were openly handed to him without so much as a second glance because he was the son of Lucius Malfoy, the ministry official.

And now? That meant nothing.

Hard as he tried, Draco could not tear his eyes away from the scene, not as his father left the room, not as his mother gripped his arm and begged him quietly to occlude, and not as Hermione's screams and sobs got louder, more pain laced in each one. As Bellatrix carved letter by letter into her skin, the dagger dragged along Hermione's flesh, covered in more red each time she lifted it to begin on a new section or letter.

There was no difference between the blood in Hermione and the blood in Draco.

By the time Bellatrix had finished, Hermione's eyes looked as cold and empty as his did. her head lolling to the side, watching him as the tears rolled down her face, unable to move from the spell Bellatrix had cast on her to keep her in her place. She looked like she was barely breathing, her skin was pale and he couldn't look away from the blood dripping from the word on her arm.