Draco Malfoy and the Seven

Old Voldy's Collection

February 24th, 2003
Draco's POV
Feeling sorry for himself was a mindset Draco had worked tirelessly to eradicate, at this moment though, it was proving to be exceptionally difficult not to fall back into his old ways. Hermione and Pansy were gone, and he had no idea where they'd been taken, he'd worked to the point of exhaustion the last seven days but every lead he had received from Knockturn Alley had proven fruitless.
Since he'd witnessed Hermione being snatched away, it had become a morning ritual to play the scene over at least once.
He had managed to maneuver his body close enough to reach his wand, after severing the constricting ropes, he made a dash for his witch, hoping he wasn't too late to stop her. He had made it halfway to her when she took that defining step over the ward line and Dolohov seemingly appeared out of thin air. Sitting in his bed now, he recalls the mixture of anger and fear that had overtaken him. Those emotions swam through his veins like a drug now, not for release or a feeling of euphoria, but as a coping mechanism, something to help drive him every day until he could hold her in his arms again, knowing she was safe was the only thing that could ease the addiction to his chaotic emotions.
After they'd disappeared through Dolohov's portkey, Draco floo'd to his office at the ministry, alerting Potter first thing. All of the red tape and issues of expense were shoved aside since one of the captives was the wizarding world's Golden Girl, Potter put every available auror on search and rescue, searching every known abandoned building in London, searching for old death eater hideouts but every lead had been a dead end up to this point.
After nearly three hours of sleep, a record high this week, he readied himself for another long day of searching and interviews.
February 21st, 2003
Hermione's POV
Hermione! Drip
Draco! Please! Drip
Don't you fucking touch her! Slap
"Wakey wakey li'l mudblood. Would'n want you ta miss all the fun now, would we?" Dolohov's oily voice dripped through her consciousness, bringing her back to the living where she felt like she was dead. She was certain she had at least two cracked ribs and found herself she couldn't see the bruises surely covering her body in the darkness. She'd lost track of time but estimated it had been at least two days since their capture.
"Get away from her you sick fuck." Pansy's voice rang out ferociously, striking like a viper in its intensity.
"You'll get yer turn sweet'art, don' you worry yer pretty li'l head." She felt the sharp length of his fingernails dig into her scalp as he made his promises to Pansy. In that moment she felt such shame. Shame in the fact that she let her temper get the best of her yet again. If she had just talked to Draco instead of leaving, they wouldn't be in this predicament. She could have talked Pansy down or at least tried to but hearing of the secret Draco had been keeping from her, she'd seen red and acted on emotions rather than logic.
Strong hands gave a sharp tug on her curls, propelling her to move into a quick crawl after their master to avoid her hair being ripped out from the roots. She'd been wearing a simple pair of black leggings and a green jumper when she'd been brought here. The thin fabric did little to protect her knees from collecting bloodied scrapes against the cold, abrasive stone. The thought made her chuckle darkly, here she was worrying about such minimal injuries when she currently suffered from much worse, it was laughable.
"Somethin' funny there Mudblood?" Dolohov's annoyed tone slithers over her skin as a loud scraping sound rings through the chamber when he opens the chamber door.
"As much as I'd love to discuss the standard of living conditions for the duration of my stay here, can we just skip the chit-chat and get right to the torture?" Knowing that joking about being tortured probably wasn't the best coping mechanism but it's all she has at the moment.
Dolohov lets out a loud guffaw, his laugh reminding her of a braying donkey. "You's funny for a mudblood."
"Some of us are even house-trained. Hard to believe, isn't it? Can you say that for all of your death-eater friends Antonin? I'm sure it's hard to find good help these days, most of your old war buddies being dead or imprisoned." She knows she's pressing by addressing him so informally but can't find it within herself to care. She knows it will piss him off and that only encourages him more. She'd rather he took it out on her than Pansy. At least she'd done this dance once before.
His response is quick and as expected, painful. She's ripped forcefully from the darkness into the burning light of the hall outside of their cell. A few of her spiraling curls dangling from a black-gloved hand.
"How thoughtful of you, I've been meaning to cut my hair but just haven't had the time. Draco and his incessant need to keep me safe makes it hard to get away. You remember Draco, right? Tall, blonde, has a wicked temper?" The mention of his name brings forth the look of anguish on his face as she'd been ripped away, a tight ball of guilt forming at the memory.
"The Malfoy brat? E's no concern a' mine. I'll be sure ta send the bits of ya that are left back to 'im though." He pulls on her arm sharply, sending a shooting pain to her shoulder as he pulls her to a standing position.
"That brat is going to skin you alive for even thinking of touching me. I quite look forward to the show to tell you the truth. Do you think you'll scream? Oh! I bet you'll cry. Maybe Draco will even let me join in on the fun." She knows finally pushed him over the edge when a sharp slap reverberates off her cheek, she instantly tastes the coppery tang of blood as it pools in her mouth.
"One more word out'a you Mudblood and you'll regret it." His beady black eyes, dark like coal, level with hers. Once upon a time those eyes stalked her nightmares, incinerated her self-confidence, and all but destroyed her idea of what it was to be a woman. Now, looking into the eyes all she felt was disgust, not for herself but for the poor excuse for a human being before her.
"No more." She says more to herself than to him.
"What did you say ta' me?" He attempts to use his taller form to intimidate her, but it won't work. Not anymore.
"You do not control me anymore. I can see you for what you are now. A scared little man that needs to hurt others so he can feel big and bad. I thought you to be some terrifying monster for the last five years, but you are only a shadow of that. You are weak Antonin, and I am done letting you haunt me." A rush of clarity flows through her, like stepping into a cold shower after waking from a deep sleep. She felt more like herself than she had in years, and she would never allow another person to take her sense of self ever again.
"We'll see about that." He sneers before backhanding her again, using much more force this time she feels her head crack against the stone floor, leaving the room spinning. Even in her daze, she knows she will be okay because she isn't giving up this time.
February 26th, 2003
Draco's POV
"Three...two...one... Let's move." Draco signaled the team comprised of five Aurors, including himself. They moved with practiced ease through the darkness of the abandoned house elf quarters. This particular manor had belonged to the Macnair family. They had possessed a special affinity for torturing and murdering magical creatures if the many beheaded creatures mounted on the walls said anything.
Wands drawn the wizards and witches made their way through the cluttered kitchen, down a maze of hallways, following the meticulously planned route, looking for any signs of life along the way. They had received another anonymous tip regarding potential death eater activity at this location. Draco hadn't held out much hope as to the validity of the claim but planned the raid all the same.
Having searched the first level of the manor thoroughly, they moved towards the second level. Draco stands beside a wide set of stairs, noticing an unnatural pattern against the wall, he lifts his wand to brighten the area. A thin line, slightly larger than the marking of a quill paints the wall beneath the staircase, Draco has to duck down to fit beneath the space.
"What is it, Drake?" Goyle asks from behind him.
"I'm not sure but something seems a bit off." He says while running a hand over the lane, feeling a faint cool breeze emitting from the line.
"Stand back Goyle." He commands before casting a spell to blow the wall apart. "Bombarda!" Bits of plaster and stone spray in all directions. "Protego." He casts a quick shield to protect himself from the worst of the blast.
As the dust settles a darkened staircase appears before them, cobwebs and grime built up after an unknown amount of time without use.
"Looks like we have some searching to do Goyle."
"Mate, I hate these old manors. Creepy cellars and protective jinxes everywhere." Goyle complains.
"Draco, come back to the ministry at once, we have a situation." Potter's voice rings out through his silver stag Patronus.
"Bloody hell." Draco curses, running a hand down his face in exasperation. "Add one more fucking thing to the list. Alright, Goyle, gather the rest of the team and finish the search upstairs, after that move down here. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Making his way back out of the manor the way he came, determined to finish with Potter as quickly as possible.
February 26th, 2003
Draco's POV
"You just pulled me away from a live raid Potter so this better be bloody important." Draco's irritation rings clear in his voice, not even trying to hide it.
Harry stands to meet Draco on the other side of his desk. "Come on, I have something to talk to you about at the DOM."
"What's happened?" Draco asks.
"There's been a break-in," Harry responds before leading the way to lift that would take them to the Department of Mysteries.
Draco remains silent, knowing now how serious this is. The DOM was not something to fuck around with and if someone was able to get in there without being caught let alone steal one of the many priceless and dangerous artifacts, they had every right to be concerned.
"Auror Potter, Auror Malfoy." A short faceless woman greets them upon their arrival. "Follow me please."
They passed countless blank red doorways through a maze of hallways before stopping at an unremarkable door just like the others. A small hand reaches out and pushes the door open for the wizards, she waves a hand, motioning for them to enter.
A rectangular steel structure sits in the middle of the room, five boxes divided by glass created within the steel bars.
"What was held here?" Draco asks.
Harry lets out a bone-weary sigh before responding. "Each of these boxes contained the remains of horcrux belonging to Tom Riddle. The Department of Mysteries gathered each available item after the war to study them. The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, Gaunt's ring, ordered to get that one myself, Helena Hufflepuffs cup, the diary of Tom Riddle, the locket of Salazar Slytherin, and last but not least was Nagini's severed head, preserved by magic. Not much knowledge is available about Horcruxes, and this was a perfect opportunity to learn." Potter explains.
"I thought all traces of magic left once the items were destroyed?" Draco asks, recalling a conversation with Hermione about said items, where she had explained how each was destroyed.
"Again, there isn't much research on this subject, but they've found that there are still traces of dark magic affecting each item used as a Horcrux. The question is why someone would want to take them."
"Shrine to old Voldy?" Draco jests, knowing that whoever took them had far more nefarious ideas than adding to their limited-edition Voldemort collection.
"If only that were the case. I've brought you down here so we could talk in private. Very few people knew these items were being held here or that they existed at all. Do what you can to see if any of them are being sold at Borgin and Burkes, it's the first place I'd go to sell something like this if I planned to sell it at all. I have a feeling this is all connected."
"I agree. On a related subject, I had just found an unmarked doorway during the raid, I left the team to get started without me, I'll let you know if I find anything." Draco says, making his way toward the doorway so he can get back to his team.
"Thank you, Draco. For helping Hermione and pointing out when I was being a shit friend. I'm going to do better, after all of this is sorted out, I am going to do right by Hermione. No more standing on the sidelines when Ron is being a right git."
Draco can hear the sincerity and regret in Potter's voice, he just hopes they'll both get the chance to make up for their mistakes.
February 26th, 2003
Hermione's POV
Hermione had been put on a rotating door of torture, Dolohov visiting randomly throughout the day to retrieve his next victim. Anytime he reached for Pansy, she found herself clawing for anything that would pull him away from the dark-haired witch. She cursed, taunted, and attacked, whatever would save her friend she would do.
Pansy had tried in vain to get him to reveal Neville's location. The sadistic fuck would only laugh and respond with the same "In good time." Before pulling Hermione away, probably assuming keeping Pansy guessing her husband's whereabouts was the worst form of torture he could inflict.
"Ready to play li'll Mudblood? I got a special treat for ya today." Thus far she had been able to resist his sexual advances with various distraction methods. Usually making him so angry he was too furious to be around her.
"Go Fish might be a bit beyond your expertise, but I think we can dumb it down for you." Rationally she knew that he was actually a highly intelligent wizard, all the more reason he grew impatient and furious with her jabs.
"You love to put on a show li'l Mudblood don't you?" This was not his usual response and it put her on guard. "Why don't we provide some entertainment for your friends?" He says with a menacing chuckle. In a swift move she is thrust against the stone wall and her hands bound above her head by heavy shackles. Light floods the chamber for the first time and she instantly searches for her friend, spotting her across the room. Pansy's hands are also shackled but she sits on the cold floor, hands covering her eyes to block out the offending light she's not seen in days.
Dolohov trains his eyes on Pansy as he gives her a sadistic smirk. "I'm feelin rather generous today love so I'll let ya see yer husband." With another wave of his wand, a shape materializes in the form of Neville Longbottom in the corner of the cell. His hands and legs are bound so he's on his side, his face is fixed in a scream and his mouth is forming words, but no sound can be heard.
"Neville!" Pansy screams, bursting into tears at the sight of him. "Let him go you sick fuck! What have you done to him?" She wails.
"E's been a tough one to crack but we'll get 'im. Maybe now that we 'ave the proper motivation he'll see reason."
Hermione can only stare at her friend. He's littered with bruises from head to toe, blood splatters crusted over his skin in random patches, and tears stream down his face as he watches his wife desperately clawing at her bindings in an attempt to reach him.
"Now that we 'ave a proper audience, let's get started." Dolohov claps his hands happily before moving to Hermione. She shuffles her feet in an attempt to move as far away from him as she can, only to meet the unforgiving stone.
"I would say play nice and I'll take it easy on you, but I have no intention of doing that." She watches as a blood-crusted hand reaches for her, groping one breast and then the other.
"Grown-up nice have we little Mudblood." He says as he continues his exploration of her body.
"I'm surprised you can get it up at all Antonin, I thought you preferred your witches' young." She tries for taunting to see if that will end his assault.
"Let me show ya just 'ow hard I am whore. Bet ya'd like that. Make ya suck my cock to quiet yer incessant talking fer once." His hands leave her body, moving to remove his trousers, exposing himself to her. She is positive in that moment that the man never cleans himself because the smell makes her want to gag.
"Get the fuck away from her!" Pansy yells from her corner. Neither Hermione nor Dolohov respond. Hermione not wanting to draw attention to Pansy, and Dolohov not caring what the witch has to say.
Hermione doesn't know what comes over her but as he starts to stroke himself, she lets out a chuckle. He scowls darkly at her, and his eyes darken.
"Somethin' funny to ya Mudblood?" He asks angrily, which only prompts further laughter.
Within a few moments she is laughing to the point of hysteria while tears stream down her cheeks, her sides ache from the strain. She can see that he has stopped rubbing himself and his cock lays flaccid and exposed, his cheeks reddened in either embarrassment or anger she doesn't know but is thrilled either way.
"You are a dumb mudblood ya know that?" He grips her chin harshly before pushing her head back sharply against the wall, causing stars to burst in her vision. She's certain she's gotten at least two concussions since arriving here, knowing that she should try to stay awake does nothing to stop her from drifting off once she hears the slam of the chamber door, signaling his departure.
"Hermione! Hermione talk to me!" Pansy yells frantically, pulling her partially from her haze.
"Gonna..go...see...Draco...now. Goodnight Pans." She manages before succumbing to the sweet oblivion promising dreams of blonde hair, gray eyes and strong arms promising safety.