Vial Of Immortality

He was wasting time. She was wasting his time. He raised his wand and watched Hermione give a small cry of alarm. "Imperio!" He snarled. Oh yes. The power, the magick… coursing through his veins. He was supreme. And soon, he would be IMMORTAL.

His wand sparkled to life as the spell was cast. The world… would soon be his.

She felt light-headed, just like she had during Mad-Eye Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes two years ago. It was so strange feeling like this again. She knew it was forbidden to use this curse, or any Unforgivable curse for that matter. She was trying to remember what the Ministry of Magic would do when someone was caught doing this to another human being when she felt someone talking, whispering orders into her mind.

Someone was prying into her mind, trying to tell her what to do. She tried to shut it out and recall what she had to do. Stall… stall… her brain persisted.

Give it to me Hermione… give me the Vial of Immortality that hangs around your neck… a raspy, quiet voice told her. Quiet, yet commanding, persisting… it was strong. Her hands rose to her neck, where the clasp of the necklace was. Stronger than her... She shook her head and snapped out of it. Harry's happy face and Ron's encouraging smile. Dumbledore's merry twinkle, Professor McGonagall's stern but matron-like face. Her parents proud grins and Hagrid's gruff expression. Sirius, Lupin, Ginny, Parvati, Lavender, Neville, Seamus, Dean… all her friends.

She could see them… and she could see Voldemort hurting them, killing them, one by one. Because of her. No. NO! Her fists clenched and her arms straightened to her sides. She wouldn't let them down… especially Scarface. I will not… give in… to you. I owe Harry… that much…

You FOOL! His voice boomed and he laughed. Laughing louder and louder. He’s mad. She covered her ears at the echoes, wanting to drown them out. You are killing the boy you so cherish with all this stalling. With all this delaying. You don’t seem to understand, young lady. The more you stall and delay, the more time passes, the more pain I will inflict on him… you owe Harry everything, yet you are going to be the death of him. But you could just listen and you will be Harry's savior. All I ask is that you give me that pendant hanging on your neck. All will be over if you just give it to me…

I… I—no… no!

GIVE IT TO ME! He roared, causing her to cry out. He was destroying her with every passing second that he controlled her, torturing her with mind games. She could feel his grip over her mind becoming stronger. Yet she refused to listen. She recovered quickly, reasserted her hard expression and glared at him. I will never follow you. You are a monster!

Voldemort growled, losing all control, and raised his wand, "Crucio!"

Suddenly, she doubled over in pain, sinking to the floor in shock. The agony coursed through her veins, pounding into her ears, making her writhe. The pain. Oh the pain. She felt like crying. It seared through her bones, white hot, raw and pouring into the very muscle and tissue and casting its horrible spell on her already aching joints. Her head throbbed and she buried her head in her hands, in a futile attempt to shield it from the the spell. She sobbed freely, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. They were red with anger, embarrassment and helplessness… anger because he was going to win, embarrassment because she had almost given in and helplessness because she was slowly being killed by the Dark Lord. She was going to be murdered by the Dark Lord.

This was worse than the ropes.

This was utter cruelty.

She hated this. But what she hated more was that Voldemort relished in her screams, her screams of agony. It was already proof to him. She was weak and would be easy to kill, easy to overcome, easy to control, easy to manipulate. Abruptly, she snapped her mouth shut and willed herself be subjected to this mindless torture inflicted upon her.

Pain is all a figment of your imagination. Pain is merely a reaction in your nervous system that drives you to fear. Pain is just a message from your senses to your brain telling you to scream out loud for mercy, flinch in fright and cower in trepidation. Pain can be withstood. It’s all in the mind. All in the mind...

Hermione enjoyed tests. She always thought of them as questions to her capacity to understand and to learn. So she convinced herself that this was merely one more test.

Her mind was powerful. Her mind was strong.

Minutes passed slowly, like the trickling sand in an hourglass. Ten minutes later, she was still kneeling on the floor. Her screams had reduced to slight, short gasps, and the tears had already dried, creating rivers on her cheeks. She clutched herself, hugged herself, scratched herself, drawing blood from the wounds her nails had opened. Blood smeared all over, contaminated with the evil of the spell. But she did not scream. Not anymore. She resisted it all. For Harry.

Finally, Voldemort raised his wand, and the agony slowly ebbed away. "Why do you resist? Why suffer that much when all you have to do is give me the vial? Is a simple Potion worth all of this? This wretched pain? This excruciating agony? Tell me, Mudblood. Tell me why."

He could not understand how so much mental ability could be found in this young woman. She didn't look like the type who could stand the simple pain spells, all the more the Unforgivable Curses.

There was more to this young woman than that which met the eye.

She raised her head and said, her voice croaky, “Because you are a fiend, Voldemort.” She spat out his name viciously. “I resist for Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. For England’s Ministry of Magic. For Sirius Black, the Potters and all the other people whose lives you’ve destroyed. For all the people whose lives you will destroy. And for Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, my best friends. Especially for Harry. I will not allow you to hurt him anymore. Not after all you’ve done to him.

“How dare you even ask me why!”

The door creaked open and Lucius' head snapped in its direction. A pale-haired young man was standing in the doorway. "Draco!" Lucius hissed, beside himself with rage. "Go to your room and stay there! I told you not to come barging in here!" Draco said nothing, just continued to stare at the scene before him. Hermione Granger glaring at a tall, robed figure of a man that Draco had been destined to join ever since his father swore to become a Death Eater.

"Good evening, young Malfoy," a voice called out to him from the direction of the man. Draco saw Hermione's head snap to his direction. Ignoring the fiery hatred in her eyes, he nodded curtly at the figure. "Good evening, Lord Voldemort."

"Bow!" his father ordered him. Yet, he ignored his father's angry orders and strode forward confidently. "Good evening Mudblood. What a pleasant surprise, seeing you… drop by. I trust you find the humble abode that I call my home accommodating?" He said this all with a hint of malice in his voice, but an unreadable expression in his eyes.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and spit in his direction. He stepped backwards before the spit dirtied his polished black loafers.

"Tut, tut, Granger. How rude. How… typically Mudblood. Keep your filth off my floor, lest I do something I would likely regret," Draco replied, cool and as calm as ever, a platinum eyebrow raised in disgust. “Then again, why would I regret bringing pain to a stupid Mudblood like you?”

Hermione struggled to her feet, but collapsed in her weakness. "Wait until I get my hands on your grubby little face Malfoy, and you'll be sure I'd have gouged your eyeballs out!"

“Such eloquence from Hogwarts top student,” Draco's eyes widened, then turned into slits of icy gray hatred. "With all due respect, Lord Voldemort, may I?" Without waiting for a response, he took three steps and slapped Hermione clear across her face. She sprang back at the stinging blow and automatically touched her cheek with her palm. She snarled in rage at him.

Such ferocity was exchanged through their silent argument. Neither had to say anything, but their eyes glared daggers at each other.

"Lord Voldemort, I would like to request your permission to handle this… difficult problem. May I speak to her privately?" Draco spoke in a calm tone, with layers of anger hidden underneath. "Maybe I can persuade her to tell us all about the Potion she so valiantly protects."

Lucius, grabbed Draco's arm and yanked him away from Voldemort. "Such insolence—go—room—now!" he fumed, unable to speak with so much anger flooding his senses. How dare his own son defy the Dark Lord? He should not let this pass. He would be taught a lesson. The same lesson inflicted upon him every time he caused them any delays or burdens…

"Stop, Lucius…" Voldemort's firm tone rang out, halting the older Malfoy in his tracks. "I rather admire Draco's impertinence. It makes him a true Death Eater. Let him handle the Mudblood. I must further discuss our plans for the next years to come. When the Dark overrules the Light." He cast one more smile, one more hideous, cruel smile, in Hermione’s direction, before walking out the door.

Lucius looked hesitant to leave the two alone, but followed Voldemort out the door, giving Draco one more vicious look. Farrely walked behind them, not far behind.

Farrely shook his head. Barking mad, Voldemort was. Downright loony. Sometimes, he wondered why he did this… He shook his head again and closed the door firmly.

* * * * * *

Draco inspected the doorjamb carefully, taking great care to make sure it was closed. He pressed the lock firmly and, hearing the soft click of the simple Muggle mechanism, nodded, satisfied. Musn't let anyone through this door. Can't let anyone see what I'm to do… he shook his head. Taking out his wand and whispering a locking and silencing spell, he sighed and turned back to Hermione.

He nearly shrank back at the obviously pure loathing, utter repulsion and blind repugnance expressed in her bright brown eyes, which were staring at him as he fixed the door. “If you think that for any reason that I will give this to you, you little ferret,” Hermione said thickly. “I will—”

“Stop talking Granger. We don’t have much time,” he snapped, then shook his head. She still held the cheek that he slapped with her right hand. Although she did not want to admit it, he knew that it must have stung quite badly. It was now turning a color of dark pink, contrasting greatly to her light complexion. Blood was smeared on her other cheek, and down her arms. She must have gone through a lot.

“It must have been very painful,” Draco mused softly.

She snorted. “You PRAT. Of course it was. Are you trying to be funny? Because clearly, I’m not laughing.” She stood up properly, although she still looked shaky.

Draco rolled his eyes and walked towards her, “Pity’s sake, sit down before you hurt yourse—”

POW!

… “BLOODY HELL GRANGER! What’d you do that for?!”

Hermione drew back her fist and smirked despite of the throbbing pain in her arm. “Don’t come near me Malfoy. Even without my wand I am a force to be reckoned with.” She remained in guard stance, ready to attack at once. She never knew how much punches could hurt the one punching!

Draco held his jaw and was relieved to feel that it was still attached to his skull. “You got that right,” he muttered, massaging his sore jaw. “Where in Merlin’s beard did you learn that little trick? I don’t suppose it was from a book, was it?”

“Supernatural Sonny’s Twenty Best Self-Defense Moves,” was her smug reply.

He snorted. “Figures.

“I’ve sent an owl to Dumbledore, telling him about the situation and to come and get you as soon as possible, so needn’t worry about that,” Draco told her, “He will be here as soon as he can, so you should probably get ready and then—”

“What do you mean by that?”

He threw up his hands in exasperation. “Will you please stop interrupting me all the time? Geez, one would think you’d outgrow this phase of rudeness long before you were sixteen!”

Hermione felt the great urge to ignore the pain in her limbs and slap him silly. But she held it back. Glowering at him, she crossed her arms over her chest, a gesture to show that she was listening. Draco continued, “Finally. I will give you my wand when Dumbledore arrives and you will Stun me, to make it look somewhat believable. Then, they will find me Stunned and you gone. Everyone’s happy, Voldemort will stomp around for a while and all Father’s friends will be in a tizz. Simple, is it not?”

She blinked for a second, before looking skeptical again. “What’s in it for you?” She couldn’t believe that of all people who had to come to her rescue it had to be Draco Malfoy, their nemesis and constant pain-in-the-arse. She had always thought of him as a snotty, conceited prat who could buy anything and everything he wanted, except what he wanted most. To beat the famous Harry Potter and prove his skills. Malfoy was always jealous of Harry, in her opinion.

“Oh bloody HELL! If you can get this through that thickheaded skull of yours, Granger, I am not just a vindictive, sly cur that you so passionately abhor, but a living, breathing, feeling human being with—get this—morals!”

“You’re on their side Malfoy! You’re not supposed to have morals!”

“I’m not on anyone’s side! The side I’m on is mine and mine alone! Who the hell gives you the right to judge me?”

“With the way you’ve been acting, like a precocious snotty child with appalling manners, these past years at Hogwarts, what else do you want me to think about you!”

Draco had half a mind to call Lord Voldemort back and hand her to him. The insufferable know-it-all had the nerve—! He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, regaining his composure.

“Look, I may not be on the good side, but I’m definitely not on theirs. I don’t know what I can say to make you trust me, but it’s my word—”

“The word of a prissy schoolboy who would go so far as to trick people to get his own way.”

“—or Voldemort’s fury.”

Hermione seemed to stop to think about this very deeply.

“Oh all right,” she sighed. She crossed her arms and flopped into a chair. Draco checked the door to be absolutely sure that it was locked.

He glanced in her direction and saw that she was staring at her wounds. His bad mood was replaced with sympathy. He could relate. There were times that he just wanted to end his miserable existence to stop the pain from coursing through his body. Night after night.

He was definitely happiest at Hogwarts, where his father couldn’t hurt him. Where his mother wouldn’t glare at him with such utter repulsion. She had often told him that she had wished he had never been born. He hadn’t shown it, but it hurt. More than anyone could know.

“Why didn’t he just take the necklace off of me?” Hermione whispered. “It seems like a waste of his time to just make me suffer like that. I was quite surprised to see that he didn’t curse me with Avada Kedavra from the very beginning.”

“He can’t just take it off you. Since you put it on, only you can consciously take it off,” Draco explained. “Some talismans work that way.”

She looked at him dully.

He shrugged. “You hear a lot of things around here. Anyway, he won’t kill you. He can’t. The necklace is yours, has been since you put it on, and only you have to power to give it to someone or to remove it off yourself.”

Draco paced around the room, rubbing his chin. “He should have received it by now. What the bloody hell is taking him so long?”

“Doesn’t your manor have Apparating wards?” Hermione asked him, her eyes still weary and unfocused. The reality of the night’s occurrences had settled in. She wasn’t an innocent bystander anymore. She had witnessed and had fallen victim to the cruelty of Lord Voldemort.

She was not a child anymore.

She had lost her own childlike demeanor the minute she laid eyes on Lord Voldemort. She had stared into the face of death, of despair, of the Apocalypse, and it was that moment she had beheld the face of a murderer. When he tortured her, called her names, brought her down to her knees... he had unknowingly stolen her quintessence, her very being, by throwing her into the world of reality, where pain and sorrow and betrayal dwelt. It had slapped her in the face, mocked her childish aspirations for a perfect world she had conjured up, where she had lived unafraid with her best friends and schoolmates and family for fifteen years, unknowing of the dangerous veracity of the truth.

She knew it was foolish to think of perfect worlds and innocence and happiness in a world where evil lurked around every corner. Especially when Voldemort was here. But somehow, it gave her comfort. And she knew that she needed to be there for Harry, because sometimes Harry needed that comfort from her. She gave it willingly enough.

He had been hurled into that same dark abyss two years ago, on that fateful night after the Third Task, where he met face to face with Voldemort. He had been scared too, senseless probably. But that could not stop the realism from entering into his system, from giving him the knowledge he had tried so hard to ignore, the knowledge that Hermione had now given up on ignoring.

“The wards had been taken down tonight, just for tonight,” Draco informed her. “Death Eaters have been Apparating onto the grounds the whole evening. He’s summoned them tonight to see his transformation. He wants everyone to see him in his immortal glory.” He snorted. “He always was a conceited guy.”

“Malfoy, er, I mean, Draco…” said Hermione. “What happens if this doesn’t work?”

Draco looked up at her, surprised, “You... you just called me Draco...” His gray eyes were wide, “You’re the only one to have ever called me Draco. From your house, I mean. I was so accustomed to hearing you say ‘Malfoy’ that...” He was flabbergasted that she had finally called him by his first name.

“Well yes,” she said, rather annoyed that he didn’t answer the question. “I mean, it is your name isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Draco replied, his voice sounding amusingly unbelieving. “Yeah it is.”

And in the midst of all the trials they were facing, amongst all the risks they were taking, knowing that they could die within the very night, they found themselves bursting out in laughter.

They had been touched by evil, experienced pain beyond anyone’s belief and now, things wouldn’t go back to normal. Their dream world had shattered, only leaving them to a harsh and cruel reality to survive in. They would have to finish what was started. The innocence was gone because they had finally abolished their belief that everything would be all right sooner or later. Because it wouldn’t. Not unless they did something about it.

But for the moment, all they needed was a good chuckle. It gave them hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

They were interrupted by a loud ‘harrumph’.

Jumping up in surprise, they whirled around at the source of the sound, and saw Albus Dumbledore with the familiar twinkle in his eye gazing back at them with an amused expression on his withered face seated in a leather chair. The same leather chair previously occupied by Voldemort himself.