Disclaimer: I take credit for this plot and my own characters, but everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Note: Oh no! It's been a whole week since I've updated! Whatever did you wonderful readers of mine do? I know that last chapter wasn't graphic, but I felt the warning was necessary anyway. The first time I wrote it, it was really violent, but then I toned it down so I wouldn't cross any lines about rules. Either way, I hope you like this next very short chapter! Read slow, because I won't be updating for a while. Chapter Ten is the last chapter I have prewritten. After that, I have to actually work!
Chapter Nine
Behind Enemy Lines
When Draco came to, he felt like he had risen from the dead. With heavy eyes, he assessed his situation. He soon discovered that the aching in his arms was the result of hanging by his wrists that were shackled to the wall. When he licked his chapped lips to moisten them, he found the coppery taste of blood on them. Fully awake now, he glanced around the little room, and slowly, everything came back to him.
His father had turned him into a man whose face Draco had not been allowed to see. Lucius had referred to him as Damien, and Damien had taken great interest in Draco's story.
"A spy of the Few?" The man had asked. His voice was smooth and dangerously soft. "Take him away to the dungeon. Get out of him what you can."
"Of course, my lord," Lucius had replied with a bow, and had led Draco away to this room, where he had ordered hours upon hours of torture to be inflicted upon his son. But Draco had said nothing. He hadn't even uttered a cry of pain. He would take anything they could throw at him, and he would take it in silence until they sent him crawling back to Hogwarts or killed him. He would rather die than betray the secrets of the Few, would rather give his life than spare himself just for his wife and daughters to end up dead. There would be no information given to the enemy if Draco could help it.
Draco heard movement outside of his dungeon door. He kept his head down as the thick iron swung open, emitting two sets of steel-toed boots.
"So he refuses to speak?" Damien's words slid from his mouth like silk. Draco never knew silk to be so deadly.
"Not a word, my Lord," Lucius replied.
"Is that so?" Draco saw Damien's feet come closer, and felt a smooth, soft hand roughly force his chin up. In an instant, Draco found himself staring into a revolting pair of yellow eyes. They commanded his entire mind so that he could look no where else. His body was going numb, but he couldn't do anything but stare into Damien's horrible yellow eyes.
Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his head, and Draco realized Damien was an Occlumens. In his condition, he knew he couldn't put up a valid fight against this obvious master, so he built a wall around his memories of Ginny, Ari, Ella, Harry, Luna, Ron, the locations of the Few. His blockade was hasty, but by the way Damien was probing, Draco knew it was decent. He writhed in pain and let out a shriek of agony. It felt like Damien was twisting his entire brain, desperately trying to find something to use against the Few.
The corners of the yellow eyes lifted in happiness, and Damien released Draco from his mental grasp. Draco felt his body go limp against the chains, and his head dropped. His chest heaved from the effort of keeping his memories from Damien. He felt his heart stop when he Damien announced the information he had found.
"It seems, Lucius, that Harry Potter has a wife. Find a way to bring us the lucky lady, would you?" He said in his dangerously soft way as he left.
"I'll get right to it, my Lord," Lucius answered, and swept from the room, leaving Draco alone in his grief.
He had saved his own family, but how could have forgotten Hermione? He flung his head back against the unforgiving wall and screamed in agony, anger, and guilt. He screamed until he could no longer breathe, then passed out in his chamber.
~*~*~*~*~
Safe inside the walls of Hogwarts castle, Hermione Potter lay next to her sleeping husband. It took her hours to fall alseep when she had something on her mind, and tonight, something was definitely on her mind.
How had Draco, their best spy, one of the most cunning people in all of the Few, been captured by the enemy? Hermione's heart went out to Ginny, who had collapsed in a chair in shock when she had heard. Now she was debating whether or not to tell her two young daughters, her flesh and blood, her children that were hardly out of babyhood, that their father was in peril. Hermione wasn't sure if she would ever be able to do that.
She smiled as she felt Harry's arm tighten around her waist. His bare chest pressed closer to her naked back, and the familiar tingle coursed through her veins. What would she do if one day, Harry were to be captured or die in battle? She couldn't bare to face the truth: that the Ultimate Battle was inevitable, and one day, she would have to stand aside and watch him fight for his life and maybe even lose.
Shuddering at the thought, she swung her feet onto the hardwood floor. Standing, she settled her robe around her shoulders and padded silently over to their bay window. It was a clear, beautiful night. The moon was sparkling white, the diamond stars glittered in euphoria. She admired the breathtaking sky for a moment, but something caught her eye. Squinting in confusion, she walked closer to the window, inching her face closer to see it better. It looked like a flashing red light, a ruby star hung amdist it's white comrades. She had never seen it before.
She stared at it in confused silence before she realized it was getting larger, almost as if it was coming closer, closer... Hermione's eyes widened in horror. She opened her mouth to scream as the ball of light threatened to engulf her window, but she never had time to emit a sound before she was gone.
~*~*~*~*~
A fuzzy warmth clouded Harry's mind as it slowly woke itself up. He felt a soft form held tight against his side. Piece by piece, his mind put it all together: Person...woman...wife... Hermione. He smiled sleepily and gave Hermione a gentle squeeze. She seemed very squishy this morning.
Harry opened his eyes, sensing that something wasn't right. Under his arm was a pillow, not a woman. He smiled; Hermione's robe was gone, meaning she must've left him for an early breakfast. He was famished after last night, too. With a yawn, he placed his feet on the floor, tugged his glasses on his nose, a pair of pants on his legs, and a loose shirt over his muscled torso. He pocketed his wand, slid his feet into a pair of slippers, and made his way to the Great Hall, straightening his hair as he went.
When he walked into the Great Hall, the only one there to greet him at that early hour was Ginny. She was poking at her plate of pancakes, looking very tired and worried. She glanced up when Harry entered and smiled at him, trying to hide her emotions. Harry walked over to her table. A steaming cup of coffee appeared at the spot he chose as soon as he sat down. He blew on it, took a sip, and then looked up at his companion.
"How're you holding up?" He asked softly.
Ginny shrugged, staring into her own mug of hot chocolate. Harry took a moment to look the youngest Weasley over.
Ginny was a vivacious, feisty twenty year old woman who was quick to smile. Most people found it very easy to see Ginny as the personification of fire. She had an entrancing, dangerous beauty about her, but she mostly burned people with her temper. Fiercly loyal to her loved ones, Harry knew Ginny would give anything to trade places with her captured husband at the moment.
She was one of Harry's best fighters. Her toned arms could weild a sword just as fatally as Ron's could. She was flexible and fast and had the amazing ability to evaluate a situation and formulate a flawless plan in a matter of seconds. But Harry knew first-hand that Ginny's favorite weapon was her charm, not her blade. She had saved his life once with a wink of her brilliant blue eyes and a flick of her feiry hair. Now, as Harry sat across from her at 4:21 in the morning, all the color in her seemed to have dulled. He wished there was something he could do.
"He'll be back soon, I promise. Next to Draco, Ron is the best we've got, and Luna has information that will get them in and out without anyone knowing. We couldn't have found two more perfect people for this job, Ginny. I promise, it'll be over soon," He said softly, reaching across the table to place his hand over hers.
Ginny smiled into her mug. "Thanks, Harry," she whispered.
Harry smiled back, patted her hand, and then stood. Picking up his coffee cup, he said, "By the way, have you seen Hermione this morning?"
Ginny looked up at him and shook her head. "She hasn't been in here as far as I know."
"Hmm," said Harry as he stared at his reflection in the coffee. Where could she be?
At that moment, the doors of the Great Hall burst open. Ginny and Harry spun to see who it was. Neville Longbottom stood in the doorway, doubled over as he tried to catch his breath, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Neville?" Harry asked, his voice laced with concern. Neville was in charge of their radio and communications system. Was there word from Ron and Luna again?
Neville raised his head and held up a piece of paper, his breath still coming in short gasps.
"Neville, what's wrong?" Ginny sounded scared as she stood next to Harry.
"I just got...word..." Neville breathed, trying to find the strength to stand and failing. "From... the enemy. Don't know...how...but...they have...Hermione, too," he managed to gasp before he collapsed against the frame.
Harry didn't know how he got there, but he found himself next to Neville, snatching the paper out of his hand. His eyes grew wide as he read the transmission, his heart skipped a couple of beats, and his mind went numb. He felt Ginny place a hand on his shoulder, felt her eyes on the message, and heard her gasp.
They had Hermione.