Call Me Psyche - Dramione

11

Author Note: This chapter follows the dialogue of the BOOK version of the Malfoy Manor chapter of Deathly Hallows almost word-for-word. What's changed is the perspective. Enjoy!

Narcissa Malfoy threw open the doors of her drawing room even more grandly than usual.

Lucius rose from his armchair by the fireplace. "What's this?" he said, craning his neck to see past her to the ragged band of snatchers and the prisoners they dragged along. The wretches were tied together, stumbling between their captors.

"They say they've got Potter," Narcissa said, her voice cool and even, betraying no faith in their claim but still taking it seriously. "Draco, come here."

Draco was standing behind Lucius's chair, his back to the low fire, shadow darkening his face. He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes.

No, not yet.

Yes, the moment had arrived, the one he had warned Hermione to avoid at all costs. There she was, being marched into Malfoy Manor, disarmed and in terrible danger. She was jerked to a stop, turned sideways to him, tied to Potter who the snatchers had turned to face him. At her back was Weasley, his mouth swollen from some abuse, glancing desperately over his shoulder to see she was still unharmed in spite of the werewolf leering hungrily at her.

What had these fools done to get her captured? After months of her carefully planned and executed safety, how did it come to this? And why did they have to end up here?

Greyback – when he found them he would have recognized Hermione's scent as Draco's witch. And now here he was taunting Draco, testing his allegiances. Would he break and betray his family to rescue her, or stand by helpless as she suffered? Either way, Greyback would win, and Draco would lose.

Hermione had heard Draco's mother speak his name, and she must know he was there. But she wouldn't look at him, her face tipped steeply downward, her hair falling forward to screen her face. He could almost hear her voice in his head all the same.

Think, Draco. There's a way out of this disaster. There has to be. Be calm and find it for me.

He had to think with a mind like hers. And the most important thing in her mind, ever, always, was that Potter be preserved. Even if he risked everything and everyone else and freed her right now, she'd just throw herself right back into danger to save Potter. Weasley was secondary, but she'd sacrifice herself for him too, whether she had fallen back in love with him during the past two months or not.

And so Draco stepped out from behind the armchair, his expression as cold as he could make it, glancing obliquely at Potter's stung and swollen face.

"Well, boy?" Greyback said, taunting him aloud now, daring him to lie to everyone's faces about his mudblood being the same as Potter's mudblood, to lie about Potter's identity when Greyback knew Hermione's identity would confirm it.

"Well, Draco?" Lucius prodded with none of Narcissa's steely forbearance. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

Lucius nudged Draco closer. Behind Potter, Hermione's knee buckled as Draco approached. If he reached out a hand, he'd be touching her again. For the first time in months, he could hold her close, disapparate, take her to the safety that meant nothing to her without Potter.

He shook his head. "I can't – I can't be sure," he said.

She didn't react to the sound of his voice. All three of the prisoners seemed to be holding their breath, desperate and frozen.

Lucius was jostling Draco forward but he held his ground, fighting not to disturb the delicate equilibrium between the four of them: Potter looking sideways and past him, Weasley's eyes flicking frantically between Hermione and the werewolf. Speechless, Hermione herself leaned back against Weasley, supporting each other, as if they might be in love again. Draco couldn't know for sure, and at this point he had to ignore it all and fight in his own way to help her survive this.