The Silver Envelope

Ten Times Over

Chapter notes

TW: this chapter contains descriptions of torture and other explicit content.

"Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?" his mother hissed sharply.
Draco stared at the girl in front of him, a frightened, bedraggled thing that was tied to three other prisoners, her wild curls tangled around her shoulders.
A year apart was about a century less than what it would take for Draco to fail to recognize Granger. He would know her anywhere. She was different now, however. Harder, somehow. But her large brown eyes still shone with endless resilience and intelligence, even through her petrifying fear, as they always had.
In a place like this, that did not bode well. The braver you looked, the more of a target you became.
He wished he could tell her somehow to lower her eyes, to look sorry and weaker than she really was. But even if he could, it wouldn't make a difference. She would never listen to advice that came from him. Why should she? She hated him.
Draco waited for the hatred he'd always felt for her to boil up and consume him once more.
To his dismay, it didn't.
The pressure to identify her weighed on him, tearing him apart. How could he deny the obvious? If anyone discovered he was lying about recognizing these three, he would never recover from the consequences. Fear stopped up his throat, clawing at him.
He should say it. Yes, that's the Granger mudblood! That's her, without a doubt! That's what they wanted from him.
"I. maybe...yeah," he said, his voice cracking under the pressure of the almost-lie.
Her eyes dimmed, the fright and defiance joined by stony betrayal. Well, what had she expected?
Loyalty to her over his family, over the Dark Lord, whose mark he had been branded with? She should have been smarter than that.
He looked away from her. What she thought of him didn't matter anyway. She could never hate him more than he hated himself.
"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" his father shouted. "It's them, Potter's friends--Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name-?"
"Yeah," Draco said in a distant voice, no longer able to face the prisoners. "It could be."
"What's this? What's happened? Cissy?"
His aunt Bellatrix was striding into the room, her cruel eyes surveying the scene. To Draco's horror, she noticed Granger instantly.
"But surely...this is the mudblood girl? This is Granger?" Bellatrix said.
Horror, regret, self-disgust, and pain clouded Draco's mind. He wanted to throw up. There was no hope for them now.
His family started arguing about what to do, their frantic voices overlapping and echoing in the hall. Draco couldn't hear them anymore. A ringing had begun in his ears, blocking out the sound of them.
It was their fault, for being stupid enough to get caught. Draco told himself that, over and over, but each time, the thought lost a little of its conviction. After a while, he gave up, and sank back into that blank, hollow state he had become accustomed to recently. It was far preferable to feelings.
"Draco," Aunt Bella snapped. His name jolted him back to awareness. "Take this scum outside."

Dizzying confusion washed over him. She wanted him to release them?
But then he saw she was indicating several stunned Snatchers sprawled on the floor. Dread slammed down on him like a steel door. Obviously, she wasn't asking him to let Potter and his friends go.
"If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me, " Aunt Bella added mockingly.
The dig was pointed. She knew damn well he couldn't do it.
His mother tried to defend him, but Aunt Bella shouted her down. Draco knew better than to push back. He began heaving the limp bodies of the snatchers outside using a levitating charm while his family continued to argue about what to do.
Outside, he dropped the snatchers onto the gravel of the courtyard, then ran to the bushes to vomit.
What little had been in his stomach made its way up, leaving him shaky and empty.
Perhaps they wouldn't notice if he stayed out here. They seemed busy anyway. Draco took deep breaths of the fresh air, wishing, for the thousandth time that year, that he had any home besides this one
Draco knew what was coming. He had been here, in this moment, too many times not to. And yet, the horrific, drawn-out scream that met his ears still pierced him with terror.
He ran back on shaky legs, stopping to clutch the doorframe of the hall's entrance, unable to look away.
Not her, he wanted to shout. Take anyone but her!
"Crucio!" she shouted.
His aunt stood over Granger, crazed hatred blasting from her as she pinned the girl to the ground with unimaginable pain.
Draco's legs nearly gave out as he watched with wide eyes. Hermione's scream echoed shrilly, shattering something inside him.
He had to stop this. He had to save her.
But he knew the second he showed this weakness of his, he would be on the ground next to her. It was no use. There was no way to stop it.
"You are a lying, filthy mudblood, and I know it!" Bellatrix was shouting.
Screams. More screams. They filled him, vibrating through every bone of his body.
She would die here. Granger would die from sheer pain on the floor of his home. They would want him to help. Want him to join in.
He had to join in. Had to show them he wasn't weak.
Draco drew his wand.
"What else did you take? What else!"
"ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"
This time, it was not his aunt who shouted the curse, but him.
Draco was looking down his nose at Hermione, hate blasting from his wand as she writhed and shrieked, begging for him to stop. Wrath filled him, and he did not let up. He took in her terror with bitter satisfaction. Finally, when she reached the very edge of her sanity, he let her have a brief breath. Her weepy denials made him laugh. She was weak, dirty, not worthy enough to even lick the ground where he stood! She deserved what she got.
This was true power. This was his birthright.