Chapter Text
CAPTIVATED
Day 1
Looking around the courtroom, it’s obvious where this is headed, and it’s nowhere good. No one is making eye contact with me, a sure sign that they all believe I’m guilty of killing Albus Dumbledore. I know what they’re thinking: “what else is he capable of?”
It’s unlucky my trial is after Father’s, because at this point the Wizengamot are getting antsy. They want a scapegoat. Someone to blame. Someone to make an example of. And who better than a Malfoy?
Lucius charmed his way out of that already, even knowing it would increase the blowback on me, his only son. He’s now sitting freely with Mother across the courtroom. I’ve been watching her as the seats fill up, trying to commit every subtle expression on her face to memory. I’ll need something to hold on to when the dementors come for me.
There’s a clatter at the door, and a murmuring that catches my attention. I turn to look at whoever is making all the racket and drawing all the attention, and it’s a girl I barely recognize. Well, she doesn’t look like much of a girl – more like a woman.
And then I realize. It’s you. Hermione bloody Granger.
I don’t know how long I stare with my mouth open, but I’m captivated by your every move. You make your way over to my side of the room, and make a show of sitting down with your stack of paperwork. You smooth the wrinkles out of your robes, which are more expensive than I would have thought you could afford. You look like you’re here to impress someone.
What are you doing here?
I almost ask the question out loud, but since being under the Dark Lord’s thumb I’ve become pretty good at keeping my thoughts to myself. I can see by the amusement in your eyes that you know my question anyway. You give me a little half smile, and it throws me off kilter. You’ve always been good at that.
You keep touching your hair, which is styled, and I bet it’s because you’re not used to it staying in place. I’ve teased you mercilessly about it for years, but I actually like seeing it wild and free – it suits you. You don’t look like you with it pulled back so tight.
Somehow that helps it sink in that you’ve changed, just as I have. You’re not the same girl I knew in school. We’ve been through hell and back since then.
So … who are you now? Are you someone I want to know?
It takes me longer than it should to realize what Hermione Granger, champion of the downtrodden, is doing at my trial – that in this scenario, I am the downtrodden.
That you are here to save me .
And you’ve come prepared.
…
I can’t believe I’m walking out of the courtroom a free man. You left quickly and I see you’re already pretty far down the hall. It would be impolite to shout after you, but it would also be impolite not to thank you.
I should send you an owl later. Maybe I should do more than that.
I could take you out to dinner? Maybe that would be too weird.
Would I be able to smile properly instead of sneering like I used to? Maybe we could laugh about all that. Maybe we could forget all of our history and just … be .
Maybe we could go somewhere private and get to know each other, for maybe the first time. Maybe you’d let your hair down for me.
Maybe I’d learn more about you, like I did today. How passionate you are, and how you still impress it upon other people. How driven you are, and how you plan to use your perfect N.E.W.T. scores in your career. How you manage to look so radiant in a poorly lit courtroom.
Maybe, after what you did today, Mother and Father won’t mind so much that you’re a mudbl muggleborn. I still can’t believe all of the witness statements you gathered on my behalf. I might never get over how hard you fought for me to be free. I want to be worthy of your faith in me. I’m not perfect, but I could be a better man … for you.
Maybe we could even –
Wait a second.
Who is that you’re walking toward?
Oh, of course.
The Weasel.
That impoverished oaf is your boyfriend, isn’t he? Funny, I always thought you and Potter were together. Maybe that’s why I never gave you a second look.
Well, you’re certainly in my sights now, Granger. I don’t know why I spent so many years despising you. I can see now that you’re beautiful, inside and out. And you’re clearly destined to do great things.
Of course, you’ll need a good wizard beside you – a partner. Someone with connections to grease the right palms. Someone who can keep up with you. Someone who actually passed his N.E.W.T.s. Someone who can afford a suit.
What do you see in that idiot anyway?
It’s baffling to me that the smartest witch from our class is with the dumbest wizard. There’s no way Ronald Weasley is your future. I can’t imagine you living in a hovel with him and his 10 ginger babies. That would be such a waste!
Yes, I think I’ll send you an owl later. Let you know you have options.
CAPTIVE
Day 1
I wake up with a splitting headache and groan my displeasure, rolling onto my side. I’m not surprised at all to have a hangover on New Year’s Day, but I am surprised to have blacked out during Blaise Zabini’s party. That’s the only explanation for why I have no idea how I got here, or where “here” even is.
I know this isn’t my bed, because it feels too luxurious. I stick out my arm to poke at Ron but the bed is empty, which is strange. It’s not like my boyf fiancé to get up early.
Where is he? Where am I?
The room is very dark. Even as my eyes adjust to the light, I can barely see beyond the bed. And though I can’t see them, I know by the feel of overwashed, muggle flannel that I’m wearing my favorite pajamas.
I should cast a lumos.
Where’s my wand?
“Accio wand!”
Nothing.
“Accio wand!”
Why didn’t anything happen?
My head is killing me, but I manage to sit up against the plush headboard and try to get my bearings. I wrack my foggy brain, but I can’t remember ringing in the new year. There must be gaps in my memory – from the alcohol or from a wand?
The thought is chilling. I’m starting to think I didn’t get here on my own.
…
The lights finally go on.
I’ve mapped out my cage a few times in the dark, but it doesn’t sink in until I see the glass walls for myself. There’s a man standing in the shadows.
And then I realize. It’s you. Draco bloody Malfoy.
It’s not much of a surprise to see you standing there. After all, you told me about this place. You told me about how hellish the summer before sixth year was for you. Good old Auntie Bellatrix was training you to be a Death Eater, and it was grueling. Whenever you showed weakness, she locked you in a magic-blocking cage in your own manor’s dungeons to show you what it would be like to be a filthy muggle. To be like me.
I thought of the cage you described once I mapped the room with my hands. I gasp upon seeing you anyway.
“Draco!” I scramble off the bed and up to the glass. “Can you hear me? Where are we? Oh, thank Merlin you found me!”
You just keep standing there, perfectly still. You don’t frantically try to help me out of the cage like you should. Your sad, guilty smile sends a chill down my spine. “Hermione …” you say.
“No!” I shout. “What …? No, I … Draco? … What …?” I stumble over my words, my brain misfiring. I’m unable to process the fact that someone I call a close friend might be my kidnapper. Even if said friend also used to be my bully. There just has to be another explanation.
“I’m sorry,” you say, and the words hit me like a slap in the face. “I wish there was another way.”
“What? ” I bang on the glass. “Please let me out of here, Draco!”
“I can’t,” you say, shaking your head sadly. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s going on? Is someone making you do this? Why ...?” And then my body betrays me, and I start to sob before I can get out any more questions.
“Shh,” you say, finally stepping closer to the barrier between us. You put your hands up against mine on the glass, and I should pull away but right now I need the comfort. “It’s going to be all right, Hermione. You’re safe here. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I start to panic because I didn’t even think of that. Somehow you saying you won’t hurt me just makes me terrified of what exactly you plan to do with me.
I remember you said the nights that Bellatrix shoved you in this magic-blocking cage were some of the worst of your whole life. Why would you do this to me?
“I … you … what … why …” My words come out with puffs of air.
“May I come in?” you ask.
I can’t even comprehend the question. “What?”
“I think you’re having a panic attack. May I come in there with you?”
I still can’t quite understand. The room doesn’t have a door and I can’t get out, so how could you come in? My question is quickly answered when you apparate next to me. I’m jolted by your hands grabbing my shoulders.
“Just breathe,” you say, as if it’s easy.
I choke on air, trying to push away the hands that have often comforted me. But you’re too strong, and you keep hold.
“Breathe in, breathe out,” you say calmly on repeat.
I start to listen, and follow your instructions. In. Out. In. Out.
It feels like it takes forever, but I finally start breathing normally again. And then I’m back to crying, and my breath gets caught in little hiccups.
“Shh. It’s going to be all right, Hermione,” you repeat.
You guide me back into bed and I don’t know why but I let you ease me onto the mattress. I should use my nails to scratch your face. I should push you away. I should fight.
Am I under a spell? I thought you said you couldn’t do magic in this room that Bellatrix made?
“Just get some rest, hmm?” you say, covering me with the down comforter. You conjure a handkerchief and wipe at my tears.
I feel immobilized. I’m frozen in place, staring up at you. It could be magic, or it could be fear.
“I’ll leave a sandwich and some water. I realize now I should have left a lamp down here for you – I’m sorry. That must have been scary not being able to see.”
You conjure a bedside table with a lamp and a glass of water. I’m in shock watching you do wandless magic like it’s nothing. You know how hard I’ve tried to learn. I can’t answer; I just watch and wait to see what you’ll do next.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” you say.
With that, you apparate out of the room you once told me blocks magic. Maybe it actually blocks wand use?
I eventually fall asleep with the lamp on.