Chapter 21 (Turn Back)

Four flights of stairs and what felt like miles of twisting corridors beneath the entrance of Malfoy Manor, a door of metal bars closed a petite, curly-haired brunette into her new prison. Wearily, she walked barefoot over to the plain cot positioned against the far wall. She had discarded her only shoe several hours ago after discovering that its match had been lost somewhere in the catastrophe that was her escape plan. Now the rough hewn slabs of stone on the dungeon floor chilled her toes, and her strapless ball gown did little to keep her warm. The arched door offered the only view out of her cell, marred as it was by the large bars and a slight flickering that suggested to Hermione that the place was warded against magical escape attempts. Otherwise, she was surrounded by cold, grey stone.

"Hermione?" a soft voice called from nearby.

"Narcissa?" the girl replied.

"Yes, dear. I am just two cells down from you, I think."

Before she could say more, Draco's chilling voice drifted through the corridor. "Haven't you heard? I am on the Dark Lord's council now. I can do whatever I please." The guards took too long to decide whether they believed him, and the voice rose to a roar. "Let me in, you ogres! That is my mother in there!" A door banged open, echoing against the stone walls, and footsteps stalked down the hall.

Much to Hermione's surprise, the young man stopped in front of her door first, his blonde hair and pale skin standing stark against the black of his robes and the grey of the dungeon. "What the hell was that, Granger?" His voice was angrier than she had ever heard. "What the hell did you think you were doing involving Mother and I in your idiot mission? Don't you understand? We want to be here." She heard his words, but she also heard the twinge in his tone that hid "have to" behind "want to."

He gripped the bars of her door and leaned in closer, lowering his voice but increasing the venom. His eyes were blood-shot and stormy with a wrath Hermione had not seen since Harry confronted him about the Room of Requirements. "He used legilimency on my mother. Have you ever had your memories torn from your mind? Do you know how painful it is? Your know-it-all brain may be able to hold off the Dark Lord's attacks, but my mother never had a reason to learn occlumency. She had no chance. No chance! And I had to watch her. I had to watch her try to defend herself as he revealed every act and though that could possibly show her disloyalty. I watched her plead for him to stop. I watched her pull at her hair as he invaded her mind again and again. I watched it all without emotion because that was what was expected of me. And it is all... your... fault, you stupid mudblood." He threw himself away from the bars, making them rattle with his angry push. In shock, Hermione could not even call after him to apologize or perhaps rant at him for his vulgarity - she could not say for sure what she would have done. She heard him stop a few cells away to whisper with Lady Malfoy for a few minutes before he left.

"Hermione, do not let my son distress you," Narcissa's gentle voice broke through her misery. "It was not as bad as he says. Yes, the Dark Lord entered my mind but it was not so painful; I only pleaded for him to stop because I wanted to protect you and Draco."

"But it is my fault that you're here, that you're a prisoner in your own home. How could I have been so stupid? Of course, Voldemort would be checking the mail! I had assumed it would just be you." Hermione backtracked, "Of course, I don't mean that getting a letter past you and Draco was easy. I just didn't expect the double security."

"Dear, dear, calm down. Even I did not know the Dark Lord had taken such measures, but I suppose he has not trusted me for a while. His accusations against me were too confident for him to have been without suspicion for a long time. I have always been the dutiful wife, but not the loyal follower.

"I never took the Mark, you know. Lucius asked me many times. He commanded it. Apparently, my refusal lowered his standing among them, but on this, I stood firm. I was already married to one monster, I would not tie myself to another. And I tried to stop Draco. Oh how I tried! But he was afraid. He acted as if gaining the Mark was the highest honor he could imagine, but I only saw the little boy who fell off his first broomstick when he was four and climbed back on again because he knew his father was watching. Just like thirteen years ago, I knew he was scared to take the Mark but felt like he had to do it."

"He did it for you, you know," Hermione said. Draco had never told her that but recalling their conversation in the cemetery, she knew that his motivation had been the same then as it was for him to take his father's place now.

"I know."

The words lingered in the air as the two settled in to their respective thoughts. Hermione reflected on how similar the young man was to his mother; both would give everything to protect one another which caused them both silent pain. She had seen a glimpse of that pain when he yelled at her earlier. Part of her knew that as Narcissa had said, he was scared, hiding behind bravado and a stone facade, but his anger at her was very real and his words stung after months of friendliness. This was her fault. He knew it and she knew it, though she could never regret trying to escape.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione barely registered the scraping that heralded the arrival of a tray of toast and scrambled eggs. "At least they're feeding us decently," she thought. Then she noticed a stack of clothing next to the tray. Happy to change out of her now useless ball gown, she quickly pulled on the jeans, oxford shirt, and Fair Isle sweater given to her. The sweater was rather large, but she could not complain as it was warm and let off a comforting scent. Thankfully, at the bottom of the pile sat a pair of black Converse trainers and socks. As she slid her foot into the second shoe, a crinkling noise caught her attention. She discovered a note tucked into the toe. "- DM," it said. With those two letters, she realized why the sweater smelled familiar: it was Draco's, and she knew that although he might be angry, he had already begun to forgive her.

A/N: I told you I wasn't giving up on TMAH! Here's proof! As always, sorry for the long interval and short-ish chapter. I was kind of stuck for a while in addition to being in British Columbia for six weeks without my laptop, but some little scene bunnies finally popped into my head so here you are!
Has Draco really forgiven Hermione? Was he even really that angry with her or is he just trying to protect her? Will Hermione forgive him for using the m-word? It shall all be answered... eventually.