Save Me

CURSED

Draco was running; his legs were tired but he pushed forward; they were begging him to stop. He could feel the fire in his entire body- her fire. When he was exhausted, it overtook him, radiating from his toes through his head. It was almost like she was there. Almost like he had her, instead she was thousands of miles away.

He didn't mean to push her away. Not really, but she had pushed him too far and knew it. He needed space but she was always there, so he occluded her out. Malfoy knew she was hurt, her emotional pain almost resinated physically, but she was busy with Potter and Weasley, and Draco was busy with Voldemort. Voldemort. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. He didn't want Hermione, or anyone else for that matter, to know the things he was forced to do. Draco felt like he was losing his soul.

Are you okay? He felt her push through his barriers, why is your heart rate so high?

Running.

Oh. Why?

Doesn't matter. Goodbye, Granger. He pushed her out again.

–

Later he was walking into the Manor and could feel his Dark Mark slithering on his arm; he was being summoned.

Dripping with sweat, Malfoy walked into the dining room. The length of Nagini's long body took up half of the table, and she appeared to be feasting on the remains of some poor soul that had given the incorrect answer to one of Voldemort's questions. He never left anyone alive. Sometimes, Draco wondered if it was just out of spite- especially since Malfoy was the one to clean up the bodies after Nagini.

"Ah, Draco. Come." Voldemort didn't ask, he expected. He commanded.

Draco walked forward slowly, feeling himself dripping in sweat.

"Your mother tells me that she thinks you have been troubled lately. Distracted. Any particular reason that you care to share?"

"No, My Lord."

(TW: Violence)

"Shame. Crucio." He pointed his wand at Draco's withering body and watched as he curled on the ground screaming.

DRACO!? WHAT'S WRONG? IT HURTS, he felt her screaming through his mind.

He was in too much pain to answer. He clutched onto the wood of the chair leg and felt the distinct tears burn out of his eyes.

"Tell me Draco, now."

"Truly my Lord, I mean no disobedience or negligence. I have simply been lonely of late. Nothing to cause any concern to my loyalty or service to you."

Don't come. Cruciatus, he quickly thought back to Hermione. I'm sorry it hurts you too. He felt her fire grow inside of him. She was angry.

"Is that so? Maybe I shall confirm for myself," Voldemort said before diving into his mind.

Draco was prepared for this. He knew it would be the most difficult part of his spying. He focused. What was Voldemort looking for? What had been distracting Draco? He couldn't give up his real weakness. The pain was unbearable and he couldn't occlude much longer without altering the Dark Lord. He reached for Hermione's fire. He focused on the ice cold freezing sensation in his brain, and felt her give her warmth to heat it.

Draco pushed forward an image of his ''friends'' at Hogwarts. They had been teasing about Hermione's hair. Someone made a joke about pulling it while engaging in a numerous other activities. Draco altered the memory. He showed Voldemort what he wanted him to see. "Right," Draco responded to Goyle, "like anyone would ever want to sleep with that filthy mudblood. She's better off dead." Goyle burst out laughing along with Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson who had been walking by. Popular. He was popular. He had friends, and he missed them.