Betrogen

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Harry Potter; I do not earn money from this story.

A/N: A huge thank you to dynonugget, who beta-ed this story as a surprise for me *hugs*...all remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Betrogen

In a few minutes, they would bring her her wand. In a few minutes, she would make the leap of faith and entrust Draco Malfoy of all people with her memories. In a few minutes, she could start getting better.

The small Pensieve was placed on the table, right in front of her to facilitate easy access for her when depositing her memories. A nurse had helped her move the heavy device and had affectionally petted her shoulder afterward. Everything would be alright. Soon.

Giddy like a child on Christmas Eve, Hermione could not sit still, but paced the room, which quickly became too small for her. The trees outside swayed in the wind, the park with the large fountain looked inviting. She had been outside before, but then, Blaise had taken her to a room where Apparition was permitted and had side-alonged her to the beautiful courtyard. Surely, there would be a way to go there by means of stairs. Just a quick nip outside, letting the wind blow some fresh air over her face before she began extracting thousands of memories.

There were no nurses in the hall, busy walking at a fast pace from room to room. Hermione would have liked to ask for directions, but the white double winged door at the end of the hall looked promising and it gave way under the insistent pressure of her hands.

Hermione blinked. Instead of another airy corridor or a staircase, the appearance of the building had changed from light and pleasant to dark, dank and foreboding. Bare stone walls and torches in sconces along the walls reminded her of the Hogwarts dungeons. Had she ventured into a storage area of the hospital that was not meant for the eyes of the public?

Steps of more than one person and muffled sounds of a conversation came from a corridor branching off the main one. Although nobody had harmed her, Hermione drew her body into a niche and strained her ears with bated breath.

"So she is finally willing to give her memories?"

The steps had stopped not far from where she was standing.

Then the voice of Draco Malfoy answered.

"She is willing. Blaise must have made her sing in bed last weekend. If it wouldn't be for him, we would have had to use Veritaserum after all."

"That, Draco, would have been a shame. As we discussed, for Veritaserum, one need to know what questions to ask and even those might be avoided by answering in a certain way, in which she has been trained for sure."

Hermione's insides seemed to turn to rigid, cold ice, as cold as the voices in the hall. What had she done? What had she nearly done? How utterly pathetic of her to be fooled this easily. She knew the second voice, but as much as she strained her mind to connect it to a face, she failed.

"Oversee her session with the Pensieve. Work with the most recent memories and go backwards. Get as many as you can, but she might need more than one session to cover the entire year. Report back to me immediately, so we can view the memories together. We need something worthwhile to show, after the other two got away because of her!" There was a rustling sound of robes. "You have done well. I am proud of you, son."

Lucius Malfoy! Hermione could not restrain herself and inched forward to the edge of the thick stone wall. The two men stood in the faint light of a torch in an awkward embrace, one in the lime green robes of a healer, one in the dark robe of a Death Eater. They looked much more like brothers than father and son. They must have put her under a spell or potion to age her. The same with Draco. And Blaise. Soon the two men walked through a door and left her alone in her gloomy hiding place.

Hermione ran as fast as she could.

***

"Hermione." Draco Malfoy smiled a winning smile. "Are you ready for this?"

Hermione beamed at him and nodded. She had been sitting at the table for three whole minutes and had accomplished to even her breathing and give herself an air of composure and happiness.

Malfoy extended her wand towards her and her fingers closed around the familiar piece of wood. A sharp sensation rushed through her arm, not unlike the feeling when blood streams back into a numb limb.

She smiled once more, pointed the tip of her wand at her temple only to move it in a sweeping movement, covering the group of people in front of her with her pent-up magic.

"Stupefy!"

They fell with alarmed and astonished expressions on their motionless faces.

Hermione did not hesitate for even a second, but threw back her chair, jumped over a body on the floor and tore through the door of her room, fleeing down the hall.

It had taken several long minutes to locate a winding staircase. Now, in the underbelly of the hospital, if it really was one after all, she had been running and hiding, turning corners and climbing crates, but whenever she thought she might be close to an exit, she came up against a solid wall.

There were voices in the distance and they were coming closer.

Running out of directions to run, of places to hide, Hermione ducked behind a large coffer standing at an angle between two passages, making herself as small as possible.

***

Seeing her crouched behind the receptacle, making her back vulnerable to the Death Eaters that were coming her way, his mind jumped back to the day he had first seen her in that dreadful examination room.

It had been decided that he would play the part of her husband rather than Draco. They did not have history, neither as colourful nor as violent as what she had shared with the youngest Malfoy.

He had stared down at her. A strong nutritional potion was filling her stomach through a thin tube inserted into her nose. Still bony arms were strapped down at the side of the bed. As soon as she had gained enough weight, they would start her on the aging potion.

The healer had splayed her unresisting legs wide open and it had taken all of his resolve not to flinch.

Thankful that he did not have to see what the man in the lime green robes was doing, Blaise moved behind him so he could stare at his back.

The healer wiped his hands with a cloth and threw it carelessly to the side.

"It looks like that I'll deflower your 'wife', Blaise." The leer on his face was ugly. "Or do you want to perform for us?"

Instantly, Blaise knew that this man would not touch her any more than he already had. He stepped up and shoved the healer out of the way.

"I'll do it."

Ignoring the catcalls from the assembled Death Eaters, he stepped between her legs and looked down on her face that was forced into a calm darkness by potions and spells.

When he placed a hand on her thigh near her sex, it looked like he was holding her legs apart while inserting two fingers into her. There was tightness around his knuckles that told him she had indeed waited. Waited through her years at school, when the pressure of the other girls in the dormitory must have been incredible, through the endless nights in that tent, alone with her two best friends in need of comfort, through the summers at home or away with her parents, where nobody knew that she was Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire.

Nobody could see that he moved his thumb on her thigh in comforting circles. Even the spells and potions that subdued her could not stop her muscles from clenching around his fingers in protest when he forced another digit in.

With a sharp movement he scissored his fingers and her entire body tensed before it had to succumb to the potions again.

He had had his hand full of blood.

With a shake of his head he came back to the present.

Moving behind her soundlessly, he pressed his hand over her mouth and wrapped an arm around her upper body, trapping her arms against her body.

She was frozen in shock, and he used the instant before she would start struggling to whisper into her ear.

"I'll get you out."

Looking back, she had no idea how he had known when to move through the dark labyrinth of storage rooms and cellars and when to be still and hide from their followers. In the end, Blaise had opened an inconspicuous door and led her outside, a firm grip on her upper arm.

He pointed to the dark wall of trees not far from the hospital building.

"Follow the edge of the forest, use the trees as cover, let your wand point you south and you will come to a Muggle dwelling with a train station."

He parted his robes and took something out of his trouser pocket, stuffing wads of pound bills into her jeans pocket.

"Take the next train or bus and go somewhere far away from here. You don't have much time." He shoved her away from him. "Go."

She stood very still.

"Go." Then louder. "Go!"

She turned on her heel and ran, only to stop after a few steps and come back in his direction. She held out a trembling hand to him.

"Come with me, Blaise. The Order will protect you." For a moment he considered her offer, an offer of tempting uncertainty. "Please?"

He shook his head.

"I'll be alright. I don't have any family left, but there are people in there, people I need to look out for."

Hermione nodded. She understood.

"I won't forget this. I won't forget you."

Blaise stood in the shadows near the side entrance for longer than was smart, but he couldn't help but try to follow the tiny, dark figure until the trees swallowed her.

***

A/N:

Betrogen is German for betrayed or deceived.