all of my works can be found under the tag dinas-a-bird or in my master list
DISCLAIMER: I do not give permission for anyone to steal, translate, or repost any of my works as their own.
Some posts may contain 18+ material, minors and ageless blogs DNI with my 18+ works
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☆ About Me
Becca
She/Her
22
Lesbian
Full-Time Student and College Athlete (soccer)
My Ao3
☆ Master List
Requests (drabbles + one-shots + SMAUs): CLOSED
☆ Rules for Requests
What I Do Write: men (platonic only), wlw, modern/college au, angst, fluff, humor, smut (kinks/fetishes), dark fics, G!P, etc. Character x Character (depending on pairing), Character x GN/fem!Reader. I am open to most things so feel free to request anything specific (as long as it is not in my 'what I don't write' list)
What I Don't Write: pedophilia, bestiality, racism, foot fetish, homophobia, scat, men (NSFW), Male!Reader, self harm, suicide
Fandoms I write for:
The Last of Us Part: 1&2
She-Ra (Netflix vers.)
woso (Arsenal, USWNT, Lionesses, Matildas)
MCU
Harry Potter
If you want a character from a fandom that is not listed above you can still send a request for them and i might write it depending on the character and fandom :)
When Requesting Remember:
specify if you want a drabble or one-shot (if you dont I will write however much I can for the request)
specify what character(s) you want
specify what you want written
if requesting smut let me know any kinks/fetishes you want added
It may take me a little bit to fulfill a request as I am a full time pre-med student and don’t always have inspiration for a request right away
example: I want to request a fluffy drabble of Ellie giving reader a guitar lesson college au
do not spam my ask box if I do not answer you're request. i'm either currently working on it, do not have inspiration for it, or do not like it. if I do not like your request I will simply delete it. nothing against you but I do not have to feel pressured to write something on my own blog
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
Bex did not return to Hogwarts after Dumbledore’s death. Neither did Draco. They stayed at the Manor, where the Dark Lord had taken up residence in their home. He sat at their dining table. Slept in their guest rooms. Held court in their drawing room while Death Eaters came and went, planning and plotting the new world they would build.
And Bex learned to be one of them.
It wasn't as hard as she'd thought it would be. After killing Dumbledore, after crossing that line, everything else seemed easier. The Dark Lord praised her, called her his young prodigy, his perfect soldier. He gave her tasks, tracking down blood traitors, interrogating prisoners, delivering messages to his allies.
Bex felt it before she heard the commotion at the gates. The Manor always felt different when prisoners were brought in. She stepped into the upper corridor just as the doors below were thrown open.
“Found ‘em!” one of the Snatchers yelled. “Thought you’d want to see this!”
Bex moved to the balcony overlooking the entrance hall and saw them. Three figures were shoved forward. One tall and thin, his face swollen and disfigured. One with red hair, hands bound behind him. As her eyes went to the last person her breath caught.
Hermione.
For a second Bex forgot how to breathe.
No, no, no.
Bellatrix Lestrange swept into the room. “What have we here?” She crooned, circling them.
The snatcher shoved the disfigured boy forward. “We think it’s him. Harry Potter.”
“Draco!” she called sharply. “Come down here!”
Draco appeared beside Bex on the balcony. She grabbed his wrist before he could continue down the stairs.
“Careful,” she murmured under her breath. Then she let go and followed him down the stairs. Bellatrix grabbed Draco’s arm and dragged him in front of Harry.
“Well?” she demanded. “Is it him?”
Draco looked at Harry and the lightning scar barely visible beneath the swelling. He swallowed, “I… I can’t be sure.” He said quietly. “His face is all swollen.”
Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t be sure?”
Draco shook his head. “It could be. I don’t know.”
Bellatrix turned sharply when one of the Snatchers held up something wrapped in cloth. He pulled the fabric away revealing the sword of Gryffindor.
“That sword,” Bellatrix whispered. “Where did you get that?”
No one answered. Bellatrix flicked her wand, blasting the Snatcher backward into the wall. “Get out!” She screamed at them. “All of you, OUT!”
Bellatriix turned to Narcissa as the Snatchers fled.
“Put the boys in the cellar,” she said. “I want to have a conversation with this one.” She smiled thinly at Hermione. “Girl to girl.”
Bex’s stomach dropped. “No.” She heard herself say it before she could stop it.
Bellatrix’s eyes flicked to her. “Problem?”
“Just… unnecessary theatrics,” she said coolly. “If it’s information you want-”
“I will get it,” Bellatrix snapped. “However I choose.”
Narcissa took Harry and Ron away as Bellatrix seized Hermione by the hair and dragged her into the drawing room. The door slammed shut.
The first scream came seconds later. Bex stood frozen in the corridor outside. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Another scream. Bex’s hands began to shake as she turned sharply and strode toward the cellar stairs.
She found Harry and Ron locked behind the iron door, pounding against it.
“You have to get her out!” Ron shouted the second he saw her. “She’ll kill her!”
“Shut up,” Bex hissed.
Harry stared at her. “If you’re going to torture us too, just do it.”
“I’m not here for that.” She lowered her voice. “Listen carefully. There is a house elf in the Manor, his name is Gadry. He is loyal only to me. Hermione is in the drawing room. I will meet you there. You have five minutes before Wormtail comes down to check on you. When he does he will see who you are, Harry, since your face is back to normal. Then my father will call the Dark Lord. And when he does, he will come. And then none of you will leave alive.”
Ron stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “Why are you telling us this?”
Bex ignored him. She looked at Harry. “Call the elf.”
Harry didn’t hesitate. “Gadry!”
There was a crack as the elf appeared. Relief flashed across Harry’s face. Bex stepped back towards the staircase. “I was never here.” She said quietly.
Harry’s eyes locked onto hers and he nodded.
Another scream tore through the Manor. Bex turned and ran. She reached the drawing room just as Bellatrix threw Hermione to the floor. Bellatrix knelt over her panting.
“How did you get the sword from my vault?” She shrieked.
Hermione shook her head sobbing, “I didn’t take it from your vault.”
“Liar!” Bellatrix pressed the tip of her wand into Hermione’s forearm and began to carve. Hermione screamed. The smell of blood filled the room.
Bex stood in the doorway, biting her tongue hard enough to draw blood.
“Mudblood” Bellatrix whispered as she finished the final letter. She stood, breathing heavily. “Fetch the Dark Lord,” she told Bex.
Bex inclined her head and walked away. But instead of summoning him she delayed. Just long enough for shouting to erupt downstairs and for the chandelier to crash.
Bex ran back toward the drawing room as spells exploded through the hall. Hermione was barely conscious when Bex dropped to her knees beside her. For a moment she just looked at her. At the blood, at the word carved into her skin.
“I’m sorry,” Bex whispered.
Hermione’s eyes fluttered open. “You did this,” she breathed.
“No,” Bex said urgently. “I didn’t.”
“You’re one of them.”
Bex swallowed. “I killed Dumbledore because I was forced into an unbreakable vow.” She whispered. “If I hadn’t done it, Draco would have died. So would my mother.”
Hermione stared at her.
“I didn’t choose it,” Bex whispered. “Not like you think. I helped them. Harry and Ron. They should be up here any minute to get you out.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t let her kill you.” Bex murmured.
Footsteps got closer. Bex stood abruptly and stepped back. When Harry burst in, wand raised, she already had hers drawn. She fired a curse deliberately wide.
“Go!” She shouted.
Harry grabbed Hermione and Ron called for Gadry. Bex fired another spell into the wall as the trio disapparated with a crack.
“Where were you?” Bellatrix shrieked as she burst through the door.
“Fighting.” Bex panted. “They got away.”
Her aunt searched her face before running out of the room with a shriek.
Bex fell to her knees panting. Hermione was safe. That was all that mattered.
A few months later when the news came that the final battle was coming, Bex felt her chest tighten.
The Death Eaters assembled on a hill outside of Hogwarts just after midnight. There were dozens of them, maybe more. Bex stood near the front with the other marked Death Eaters, her wand ready.
Draco stood beside her, his face pale. Their mother was nearby, her wand held loosely in her hand. Their father stood at the back, a shadow of what he'd once been.
The Dark Lord stood at the front of the group. He looked almost excited, like this was a game he'd been waiting to play.
"Tonight," he said, his voice carrying across the hill, "we end this. Tonight, Harry Potter dies. And anyone who stands with him will share his fate."
The Death Eaters cheered. Bex's voice joined theirs.
"Hogwarts will fall," the Dark Lord continued. "And from its ashes, we will build a new world. A world where magic is respected. Where purebloods rule as they were meant to. Where there is no more hiding, no more weakness."
"But first," the Dark Lord said, turning to look directly at Bex, "we give them a chance. One chance to surrender. To give us Harry Potter and avoid unnecessary bloodshed."
He smiled. "Bex Malfoy," he said. "You will deliver the message."
Bex stepped forward without hesitation. "Yes, my Lord."
"You killed Albus Dumbledore. You proved your loyalty beyond question. Now you will tell them what awaits if they refuse to comply." He gestured toward the castle. "Go. Tell them they have one hour to send out Harry Potter. If they refuse, we will show no mercy."
Bex inclined her head. "It will be done my Lord."
She turned and walked toward the castle. Behind her, she heard Draco whisper her name, but she didn't look back.
The castle doors were sealed, but Bex knew the wards. Knew how to get through them. She'd spent the past year learning how.
She pressed her palm against the wood and whispered the counter-charm. The doors swung open.
The entrance hall was full of people. Students, professors, members of the Order of the Phoenix. They all turned to look at her, and Bex met their stares without flinching.
She saw McGonagall near the front, saw Flitwick and Sprout and Slughorn. Saw Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood.
Saw Harry Potter standing in the center of it all, his wand already drawn.
And then she saw Hermione.
Hermione stood near Harry, her face pale but composed. Her eyes met Bex's across the hall, and for a moment, Bex could hear her heartbeat in her ears.
She looked away.
"The Dark Lord offers mercy," Bex said. Her voice echoing in the silent hall. "Send out Harry Potter, and the rest of you will be spared. You have one hour to decide."
"Absolutely not," McGonagall said immediately.
"Then you're condemning everyone in this castle to death," Bex replied. "He has an army outside. You can't win this. Your only chance is to surrender Potter and save yourselves."
"We'll die fighting before we surrender Harry," someone shouted from the back.
Others joined in, voices rising in agreement.
"You don't understand what you're facing," Bex said. "The Dark Lord will show no mercy. Not to students. Not to professors. Not to anyone. This is your only chance to-"
"To what?" Hermione's voice cut through the noise. She stepped forward, her eyes locked on Bex. "To save ourselves by sacrificing Harry? That's not a choice. That's cowardice."
Bex looked at her. Really looked at her. The girl she'd watched and wanted and almost loved.
She addressed the hall again. "One hour. That's all you have. Use it wisely."
"Bex." Hermione's voice stopped her. "Please. You don't have to do this. You could still choose differently. You could still-"
"Still what?" Bex turned back to her. "Still switch sides?"
"There's always a choice," Hermione said desperately. "It's never too late to-"
"It was too late the moment I cast that curse." Bex's voice was flat. "I made my choice. I'm living with it."
"One hour," Bex repeated. She looked at Harry. "I suggest you run, Potter."
She turned and walked back through the doors before anyone could respond.
The hour passed slowly.
Bex stood with the Death Eaters on the hill, watching as the castle prepared for war. She could see movement in the windows, could see people running back and forth. They were evacuating the younger students, setting up defenses, and preparing to fight.
They weren't going to surrender.
Bex had known they wouldn't. Had known from the moment she delivered the message that it was pointless. But the Dark Lord had wanted to make a show of it, wanted to prove that he'd given them a chance before he destroyed them.
"You did well," her mother said quietly beside her.
Bex nodded. "Thank you."
"The Granger girl. She tried to sway you."
"She failed."
Narcissa studied her for a moment. "Good. Sentiment is a weakness we cannot afford."
"I know."
When the hour was up, the Dark Lord stepped forward.
"So be it," he said. "If they choose death, we will give it to them."
He raised his wand, and the Death Eaters surged forward.
Bex moved with them.
The battle began with an explosion.
The castle's protective enchantments shattered under the combined assault of dozens of Death Eaters.
Then they were through the doors.
Spells flew in every direction. Red and green and blue light illuminated the entrance hall. People were screaming, shouting, dying.
She cast a blasting curse at a group of students trying to form a defensive line. They scattered, and she followed up with stunning spells, dropping two of them before they could recover.
Someone sent a spell at her from the left. She deflected it and returned fire, her curse hitting them in the chest. They went down hard.
She saw Draco across the hall, dueling with someone she didn't recognize. Saw her mother near the doors, her wand moving in controlled movements. Saw Death Eaters she'd known her whole life fighting with a viciousness that no longer shocked her.
A seventh-year Ravenclaw came at her with a cutting curse. Bex sidestepped it and sent a cruciatus curse back. The girl's screams echoed through the hall as she fell.
Bex stepped over her and kept moving.
She saw Hermione across the hall, dueling with Dolohov. For a moment, Bex considered helping. But someone else needed her attention. A member of the Order was advancing on a group of younger Death Eaters, and Bex moved to intercept.
"Confringo!" she shouted.
The spell hit the man in the shoulder, spinning him around. Before he could recover, Bex hit him with a stunning spell. He dropped.
One of the younger Death Eaters, a boy barely older than fifteen, looked at her with something like awe.
"Thank you," he gasped.
Bex didn't respond.
The fighting spilled out of the entrance hall and into the corridors. Bex followed the crowd, her wand raised, her mind focused. She'd stopped thinking about what she was doing.
She turned a corner and came face to face with Ginny Weasley.
Ginny's wand was up immediately, pointed at Bex's chest. "You."
Bex raised her own wand. "Me."
"You killed Dumbledore," Ginny said. Her voice was shaking with rage. "You're a murderer."
"It’s not that simple.”
Ginny's face twisted. "Stupefy!"
Bex deflected the spell and sent a blasting curse back. Ginny barely dodged it, the spell hitting the wall behind her and leaving a crater.
They dueled in the corridor, spells flying back and forth. Ginny was good, better than Bex had expected.
She sent a cutting curse at Ginny's legs. Ginny jumped back, but not fast enough. The spell caught her calf, and she cried out, stumbling.
Bex could have finished it. Could have hit her with something worse. But Bex didn’t want to kill the Weasley girl, not really.
She moved on.
The battle raged through the castle. Bex lost track of time. Lost track of how many spells she'd cast, how many people she'd hurt.
She saw people she knew dying. Saw students she'd gone to school with lying motionless on the floor. Saw professors fighting with everything they had.
She told herself she felt nothing.
She found Draco on the second floor, backed into a corner by two members of the Order. He looked terrified, his wand shaking in his hand.
Bex didn't hesitate.
She hit the first one with a blasting curse that sent them flying into the wall. The second one turned toward her, and she caught them with a stunning spell before they could react.
Draco sagged against the wall, gasping. "Bex."
"Stay close to me," she said. "Don't wander off."
"I can't. I can't do this."
"Yes, you can." Her voice was hard. "You're a Malfoy."
She pulled him forward, and they kept moving.
They turned a corner and came face to face with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
Harry's wand was up immediately, pointed at both of them. Ron was beside him with his wand raised as well.
"Don't," Harry said, but not to Bex, to Ron.
Ron’s jaw tightened, "She's still a death eater Harry.”
“I can see that,” Harry shot back.
Bex raised her wand slowly, though not quite aiming it. "Potter."
“You could’ve let her die,” Harry said quietly. “At the Manor. You could have let us all die.”
Draco glanced at Bex sharply, “What does he mean?”
“She saved us.” Harry said, not looking away from Bex. “She told us about Gadry. She stalled Bellatrix. We’d be dead if she hadn’t.”
Draco looked between them, confusion still on his face.
“Why did you do it?” Harry asked.
“I didn’t want Hermione to die.”
Ron’s lip curled. “You expect us to believe that?”
“I don’t particularly care what you believe Weasley.”
Spells exploded down the corridor behind them. Harry’s eyes glanced toward the sound then back to her.
“You’re still fighting for him.” He stated.
“Yes.”
“And you're still bearing that.” His gaze dropped to the Dark Mark on her forearm before returning to her face.
“Yes.”
Ron shifted as the sounds behind them got closer. “We don’t have time for this.”
Harry’s voice lowered. “Are you going to stop us?”
Bex tilted her head slightly. “I should.”
“But?” Harry pressed.
Bex’s eyes flicked to the corridor to the left. Footsteps were coming down it.
Bex raised her wand higher, this time properly aiming. Harry did the same, understanding passing between them.
“Expelliarmus!” Bex shouted.
Harry blocked it easily and Ron fired a stunning spell that Draco deflected.
To anyone watching, it seemed like a real duel. But Bex’s spells were a fraction too high and a bit too slow. Draco tried to join in but his aim faltered. His spells shattered brick instead of finding targets. Harry advanced, pressing hard now, not trying to hurt her, just trying to push past.
Bex sent a blasting curse into the ceiling. The stone above them cracked.
“Get down!” Bex shouted as a part of the ceiling collapsed between them.
When the dust cleared, Harry and Ron were on the other side of the rubble.
"Come on," Bex said, grabbing Draco's arm. "We need to regroup."
They ran.
Bex moved through the castle casting spells, dodging curses.
She saw Hermione again, dueling with Bellatrix Lestrange near the Great Hall. Bellatrix was laughing, her curses wild. Hermione was holding her own.
Bex watched for a moment. Watched as Bellatrix backed Hermione toward the wall.
She could help. She could intervene. She could save her again.
And she almost did, if it hadn't been for Voldemort's voice that echoed through the castle.
"Stop. Stop fighting. I have something to show you."
The battle slowed, then stopped. Everyone turned toward the courtyard, where the Dark Lord stood with something at his feet.
Someone.
Bex moved closer, Draco beside her.
It was Harry Potter.
He was lying motionless on the ground, his eyes closed. Dead.
"Harry Potter is dead," the Dark Lord announced. "He was killed trying to flee the castle. Your hero is gone. Your hope is extinguished."
Bex heard someone sob. Heard the sound of wands clattering to the floor.
"Now," the Dark Lord continued, "you have a choice. Join me, or die with him."
Silence.
Then Neville Longbottom stepped forward.
"I'll join you," he said.
The Dark Lord smiled. "Excellent. Come here, boy."
Neville walked toward him slowly. When he was close enough, the Dark Lord placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You see?" the Dark Lord said to the crowd. "Even the bravest among you knows when to surrender. Even-"
Neville moved.
He pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat and swung it at Voldemort in one fluid motion.
Voldemort stumbled back, and Harry Potter sat up.
He wasn't dead.
And the battle began again.
Bex stood frozen for only a moment. Then her training kicked in, and she raised her wand.
She saw Harry and Voldemort facing each other.
Draco grabbed her arm. "Bex."
"Stay behind me," she said.
She moved forward back into the battle.
She cast a blasting curse at a group of Order members, scattering them. Cast a stunning spell at a student who got too close.
Across the courtyard, she saw Hermione fighting. Saw her casting spells with fierce determination. Saw her protecting the people around her.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
"Avada Kedavra!" The curse left her lips. Green light erupted from her wand. It was brighter than she'd expected. Brighter than any spell she'd ever cast. It filled the entire tower, turning everything sickly green.
The curse hit Dumbledore square in the chest.
For a moment, nothing happened. He just stood there, looking at her with those sad blue eyes. Like he'd known all along this was how it would end. Like he'd forgiven her before she'd even raised her wand.
Then he fell backward, over the railing, and into the darkness below.
Bex heard the impact. Heard the terrible, final crunch of a body hitting stone far below.
And then silence.
Bex stared at the spot where Dumbledore had been standing. Her wand was still raised. Still pointed at nothing. She'd done it. She'd killed him.
The unbreakable vow released its hold on her. She felt it, the magic that had been coiled tight around her heart, around her soul, suddenly gone. The pressure that had been building for months, the constant weight of knowing she had no choice. It was over. She was free. And she'd never felt more trapped in her life.
"YES!" Amycus roared. He grabbed Bex's shoulder, shaking her. "You did it! You actually did it!"
Alecto was laughing. "The little Malfoy's got a spine after all!"
Greyback moved to the railing, looking down at Dumbledore's body. "Dead as dead can be. Well done, girl."
The other Death Eaters were cheering. Congratulating her. Celebrating.
She'd just killed someone. She'd just murdered Albus Dumbledore. The greatest wizard of their age. The one person who'd stood between them and the Dark Lord's complete victory.
Dead.
Because of her.
"Bex." Draco's voice was small.
She turned to look at him. He was staring at her with wide eyes. His face was pale, his wand still hanging limply at his side. He looked like he might be sick.
"You…" His voice cracked. "You actually…"
"I had to," Bex whispered.
"I know." Draco's eyes were wet. "I know you did. I just…" He swallowed hard. "Thank you. For…for doing what I couldn't."
Relief and horror warred on his face. Relief that he hadn't had to be the one to cast the curse and horror that his sister had done it instead. Horror that she'd actually gone through with it.
"We need to leave," a cold voice said. "Now."
Snape had appeared at the top of the stairs. His black eyes swept over the scene, the celebrating Death Eaters, Draco's pale face, Bex standing frozen with her wand still raised. His gaze lingered on Bex for just a moment.
"The Order will be here any moment," Snape continued. "We need to go. Now."
"But we won." Amycus started.
"NOW." Snape yelled.
The Death Eaters moved. Greyback headed for the stairs first, still laughing. Alecto followed, then Amycus. The others fell in line.
Draco grabbed Bex's arm. "Come on."
She let him pull her toward the stairs. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Her whole body felt disconnected, like she was watching herself from a distance. As they reached the stairs, Bex looked back one more time.
Hermione had emerged from the shadows. She was standing where Dumbledore had been, staring at Bex with an expression of such complete devastation that it hurt to look at.
Their eyes met. Hermione's face was streaked with tears. Her mouth opened like she wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
Bex wanted to say something too, wanted to explain. Wanted to tell her about the vow, about having no choice, about how she'd been bound by magic she couldn't break.
But what did it matter? She'd still done it. She'd still cast the curse. She'd still killed him.
"Bex!" Draco yanked her arm. "We have to go!"
Bex turned away from Hermione and followed her brother down the stairs.
The castle was chaos. Spells flew through corridors. Portraits screamed. Suits of armor crashed to the floor. Somewhere, someone was shouting orders. Somewhere else, someone was screaming.
The Death Eaters ran through it all. They cast curses as they went, blasting holes in walls, setting tapestries on fire, destroying everything they could reach.
Bex moved on autopilot. One foot in front of the other down the stairs, through the corridors, past the classrooms she'd sat in just hours ago.
"INCENDIO!" Alecto shrieked, and a classroom erupted in flames.
Bex saw a first-year Hufflepuff pressed against a wall, crying. Saw a group of Ravenclaws huddled together. She saw Neville Longbottom at the end of a corridor, wand raised.
"STUPEFY!" he shouted.
The spell flew past Greyback's head.
Greyback snarled and turned, raising his wand. "You little-"
"Keep moving!" Snape barked. "We don't have time for this!"
They kept running down more stairs, through the entrance hall, toward the main doors. Behind them, Bex could hear more fighting. Order members had arrived. She heard McGonagall's voice, sharp and commanding. Heard Flitwick casting spells. Heard the sounds of battle echoing through the castle.
They burst through the main doors onto the grounds.
The night air hit Bex's face like a slap. She'd been inside her head, inside the numbness, but now. Now she could see Hagrid's hut burning in the distance. Could see the Dark Mark hanging over the castle.
"BEX!" The scream cut through everything. Bex turned. Hermione was running toward them from the castle. Her hair was wild, her face streaked with tears and dirt. Her wand was raised.
"STUPEFY!" Hermione shrieked.
The spell flew at Bex. She deflected it, her wand moving before her brain could catch up.
"Keep running!" Amycus shouted.
But Hermione was faster than Bex had ever seen her. She was sprinting across the grounds, casting spell after spell.
"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" Bex deflected it.
"IMPEDIMENTA!" Deflected again.
"HOW COULD YOU?" Hermione screamed. Her voice was raw. "HOW COULD YOU DO IT?"
Bex didn't answer. She just kept running, kept deflecting, kept moving toward the gates.
"I TRUSTED YOU!" Hermione's voice cracked. "I THOUGHT…I THOUGHT YOU WERE DIFFERENT!"
"STUPEFY! STUPEFY! STUPEFY!"
Bex deflected them all. But she could feel Hermione's magic. Could feel the rage and heartbreak and betrayal in every spell.
The other Death Eaters were laughing.
"Little Mudblood's got spirit!" Greyback called back.
"Should we kill her?" Alecto asked, almost casually.
"No time," Snape said coldly. "Keep moving."
But Hermione wouldn't stop. She was still running, still casting, still screaming.
"YOU KILLED HIM! YOU MURDERED HIM!"
Bex's chest felt like it was caving in. She wanted to stop, wanted to turn around, wanted to explain but she couldn't. There was nothing to explain. Nothing that would make this better. She'd killed Dumbledore. That was the truth. That was all that mattered.
"INCARCEROUS!"
Ropes shot toward Bex. She blasted them away.
They were getting closer to the gates. Closer to the boundary where they could disapparate.
"Almost there," Draco panted beside her.
Hermione was still chasing them.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Bex deflected it.
"CONFRINGO!" Deflected again.
"WHY?" Hermione sobbed. "WHY DID YOU DO IT?"
Alecto turned suddenly, her wand raised. "Enough of this."
"No!" Bex screamed.
"CRUCIO!"
The curse hit Hermione and she went down screaming. The sound was worse than anything Bex had ever heard. Worse than the Astronomy Tower, worse than Dumbledore falling. Worse than when her aunt had used the same curse on her and her brother.
Hermione's body arched off the ground, her wand fell from her hand, her screams echoed across the grounds, raw and terrible and endless.
"STOP!" Bex shouted. "Leave her alone!"
Alecto laughed but lifted her wand. The curse ended.
Hermione collapsed onto the grass, gasping, sobbing, shaking.
"Soft," Alecto sneered at Bex. "You're too soft."
"We need to go," Snape said sharply. "Now." They kept running. Behind them, Bex heard movement. Heard gasping breaths.
She looked back. Hermione was getting up. She was limping and tears streamed down her face. But she was getting up and she was still trying.
But Hermione didn't stay down. She picked up her wand with trembling hands and started running again. Slower now, but still running.
"STUPEFY!" Her voice was hoarse.
Bex deflected the spell. They reached the gates.
"Go!" Snape ordered. "Disapparate!"
Greyback went first, vanishing with a crack. Then Alecto. Then Amycus.
Draco grabbed Bex's arm. "Come on!" But Bex was looking back at Hermione. She was still limping across the grounds, still trying to reach them. Their eyes met one last time.
Hermione had trusted Bex. Had believed in her. Had thought she was different. And Bex had proven her wrong in the worst possible way.
"I'm sorry," Bex whispered. Too quiet for Hermione to hear, too quiet for anyone to hear. Then Draco pulled her across the boundary, and the world twisted. The disapparation was violent and disorienting. When Bex's feet hit solid ground again, she stumbled and nearly fell.
The other Death Eaters were already moving, heading toward Malfoy Manor.
Draco was beside her, breathing hard. "We made it. We're safe."
Safe.
Bex almost laughed, almost screamed. She'd just killed Albus Dumbledore. She'd just destroyed whatever fragile thing had existed between her and Hermione. She'd just proven that she was exactly what everyone had always thought she was.
A Death Eater. A murderer. A monster. How was that safe?
Hermione stumbled across the grounds. Her whole body hurt. The after effects of the cruciatus curse made every step agony. Her muscles spasmed. Her vision blurred. But she kept moving. Kept limping toward Hagrid's hut.
It was burning. Flames licked up the sides, consuming the wood. Smoke billowed into the night sky.
"Hagrid!" Hermione's voice came out as a croak. "Hagrid!"
A massive figure emerged from behind the hut. Hagrid was trying to put out the flames with his wand, tears streaming down his face.
"Fang!" he was shouting. "FANG!"
"Hagrid!" Hermione called again.
He turned and saw her. His eyes widened.
"Hermione!" He rushed over, his huge hands gentle as he caught her before she fell. "What happened? Are yeh hurt? Where's Harry? Where's-"
"He's dead." The words came out as a sob. "They killed him. On the Astronomy Tower. I saw- I watched-"
"Who?" Hagrid's voice was rough. "Who killed him?"
Hermione looked up at him. Tears were streaming down her face. Her whole body was shaking.
"Bex," she whispered. "Bex Malfoy killed him."
Hagrid stared at her. "No. No, that can't be right. Not li'l Bex. She wouldn't."
"I saw her." Hermione's voice rose. "I watched her do it. She raised her wand and she… she cast the killing curse and he fell and…" Her voice broke completely. She couldn't finish. Hagrid pulled her into a hug. His massive arms wrapped around her as she sobbed against his chest.
"I trusted her," Hermione gasped. "I thought… I thought she was different. I thought she could choose. I thought…" But she'd been wrong. Bex had chosen. She'd chosen the Death Eaters. Chosen Voldemort. Chosen murder. She'd chosen to become exactly what Hermione had feared she would become.
"I saw her," Hermione whispered again. "I watched her kill him."
Hagrid held Hermione as she cried. As her whole body shook with sobs, as the weight of what had happened crashed down on her.
Behind them, Hagrid's hut continued to burn. The flames reflected in the windows of the castle. The Dark Mark still hung in the sky.
Everything had changed. Everything was broken. And there was no going back.
Hermione closed her eyes and saw it again. Saw Bex raising her wand. Saw the green light. Saw Dumbledore falling. Saw the moment when everything they'd had, everything they might have had, died along with him.
"I'm sorry," Hagrid said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."
But sorry didn't fix anything. Sorry didn't bring Dumbledore back. Sorry didn't change what Bex had done.
Hermione pulled away from Hagrid. She wiped her face with shaking hands.
"We need to find Harry," she said. Her voice was hoarse. "We need to.. we need to tell everyone. We need to…" She didn't know what they needed to do. Didn't know how to process this. Didn't know how to exist in a world where Dumbledore was dead and Bex was a murderer and everything was falling apart.
"Come on," Hagrid said gently. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's get yeh to the castle. Let's find Harry an' Ron."
Hermione nodded. She let Hagrid guide her back toward the castle. But with every step, she saw it again. Bex's face. The moment before she cast the curse. The way she'd looked at Hermione one last time. The way she'd looked sorry.
Bex had killed Dumbledore. And Hermione had watched her do it. That was the truth. That was all that mattered now. Everything else, every conversation, every moment, every fragile connection they'd built, was gone.
Dead.
Just like Dumbledore.
Hermione stumbled up the castle steps. Students were everywhere, crying, confused, scared. Professors were trying to maintain order. The castle felt like it was falling apart. And maybe it was, maybe everything was falling apart.
Hermione found Harry and Ron in the entrance hall. Harry's face was pale, his eyes red. Ron looked shell-shocked.
"Hermione," Harry said. He grabbed her arms. "Are you okay? What happened? Where's-"
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Flashback Chapter
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
The knock came at half past two in the morning.
Bex had been lying awake in her bedroom, staring at the ceiling. She'd been counting the days until she could return to Hogwarts. Counting the hours.
The knock was soft and hesitant. Not the sharp rap of a house-elf or the demanding pound of a Death Eater.
"Bex." Her mother's voice, barely above a whisper. "I need you."
Bex sat up immediately. Her mother never came to her room. Never asked for anything.
Bex crossed to the door and opened it.
Narcissa stood in the hallway, still dressed despite the hour. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hands clasped so tightly together that her knuckles were white.
"Mother?"
"Come with me." Narcissa's voice was steady, but Bex could hear the tremor underneath. "Quietly."
They moved through the dark corridors of the manor. Narcissa led her to a small sitting room on the third floor. One of the family rooms, rarely used nowadays. She closed the door behind them and cast a silencing charm with a flick of her wand.
Then she turned to face Bex, and her composure cracked.
"He can't do it," Narcissa said. Her voice broke on the last word. "Draco. He can't do it."
Bex's stomach dropped. "Mother-"
"Don't." Narcissa held up a hand. "Don't tell me he can. Don't tell me he's strong enough or brave enough or that he'll find a way. I know my son. I know what he is and what he isn't." She moved to the window, looking out at the dark grounds. "He's gentle. He's always been gentle. Even as a child, he cried when his owl died. He couldn't even kill a spider without feeling guilty."
"He's changed," Bex said quietly. "We've both changed."
"Not enough." Narcissa's reflection in the window looked haunted. "Not nearly enough for what the Dark Lord has asked of him."
Bex said nothing. Because her mother was right. Draco had been trying all summer to become harder, colder. But Bex could see the fear in his eyes, could see the way his hands shook when he thought no one was looking.
"He'll fail," Narcissa continued. "And when he fails, the Dark Lord will kill him. Ever since your father failed him and got sent to Azkaban we have been hanging by a very thin thread darling. He'll make an example of him. Of all of us." She turned back to Bex, and there were tears on her face now. Actual tears. Bex had never seen her mother cry.
"What do you want me to do?" Bex asked.
Narcissa crossed the room. She took Bex's hands in hers. Her grip was tight, almost painful.
"I want you to save him," she said. "I want you to save your brother."
"How?"
"An unbreakable vow."
Bex stared at her mother. "What?"
"You'll vow to protect him. To help him. And if he cannot complete his task…" Narcissa's voice caught. "If he cannot kill Dumbledore, you will do it in his place."
The room tilted. Bex pulled her hands away, stepping back.
"No."
"Bex-"
"No. You can't ask me to do that."
"I'm not asking." Narcissa's voice hardened. "I'm telling you. This is the only way."
"The only way to what? To make me a murderer instead of him?" Bex's voice rose. "To damn me instead?"
"To keep you both alive!" Narcissa's composure shattered completely. "Don't you understand? If Draco fails, you all die. You, him, me. The Dark Lord will kill us all. But if you take the vow, if you promise to finish what Draco starts, then at least you will survive. At least my children will live."
"By killing someone."
"By doing what must be done." Narcissa moved closer. "Bex, please. I know what I'm asking. I know what this means. But I cannot lose both of you. I cannot watch my son die because he's too gentle, too good for the world we live in."
"So you'll make me do it instead." Bex's voice was hollow. "You'll make me into what he can't be."
"I'll make you into what you need to be to survive." Narcissa cupped Bex's face in her hands. "You're stronger than him. You always have been. You can do this. You can carry this burden."
"I don't want to."
"None of us want any of this." Narcissa's thumbs brushed away tears Bex hadn't realized were falling. "But we don't have a choice. Not anymore."
Bex thought of Draco. Of the way he'd looked at dinner earlier, pale and drawn. Of the way he'd been practicing the killing curse in the cellar, his voice breaking every time he tried to say the words.
He couldn't do it. Her mother was right. He would fail.
And if he failed, he would die, they would both die.
"There has to be another way," Bex whispered.
"There isn't." Narcissa's voice was gentle now, almost kind. "Believe me, I've looked. I've thought of everything. This is the only way to protect him."
"What about me?" The words came out small, childish. "What about protecting me mum?"
"This is protecting you." Narcissa pulled Bex into an embrace. "If Draco fails and you haven't taken the vow, you'll die with him. But if you take it, if you promise to finish his task, then you'll live. You'll both live."
"As a murderer."
"As my daughter." Narcissa pulled back, looking into Bex's eyes. "As a survivor. As someone strong enough to do what others cannot."
Bex wanted to argue, wanted to refuse, wanted to run from this room and never look back.
But where would she go? The manor was surrounded by Death Eaters. There was no escape. There had never been any escape.
"Does Draco know?" Bex asked quietly.
Narcissa hesitated. "No."
"You're doing this behind his back."
"I'm doing this to save his life." Narcissa's voice was firm. "He would refuse. He would insist on bearing the burden alone. But I will not let him die for his pride."
"So you'll let me kill for yours."
"I'll let you live." Narcissa moved to the door. "Severus is waiting. He's agreed to be the bonder."
"Snape knows about this?"
"He understands the necessity." Narcissa opened the door. "Come."
Bex followed because she didn't know what else to do. Her mind was spinning, trying to find a way out. But every path led to the same place. Death. Hers, Draco's, her mother's. The whole Malfoy family, wiped out because they'd failed the Dark Lord.
Unless she did this. Unless she took the vow.
They walked through more dark corridors, down a flight of stairs to a room Bex had never been in before, a small study, lined with books, lit by a single lamp.
Severus Snape stood by the window. He turned as they entered.
"Miss Malfoy," he said quietly.
"Professor."
"Your mother has explained the situation?"
Bex nodded.
Snape studied her for a long moment. "You understand what an unbreakable vow means? The consequences of breaking it?"
"Death," Bex said flatly.
"Immediate death." Snape's voice was cold. "The moment you fail to uphold any part of the vow, the magic will kill you. There is no reprieve. No second chance."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Snape moved closer. "Because once this is done, there is no undoing it. You will be bound by magic older and stronger than any spell you've learned. You will have no choice but to fulfill your promise or die trying."
"She understands," Narcissa said sharply. "Can we proceed?"
Snape looked at Bex again. "Very well." He gestured to the center of the room. "Kneel facing each other."
Bex and Narcissa knelt on the cold floor. The stone was hard beneath Bex's knees. Her mother's hands were shaking as she reached out.
"Clasp hands," Snape instructed.
Bex took her mother's hands. They were cold or maybe Bex's were cold. She couldn't tell anymore.
Snape stood over them, his wand raised.
"Narcissa Malfoy," he said formally. "Do you wish to bind your daughter with an unbreakable vow?"
"I do." Narcissa's voice was steady now.
"And Bex Malfoy, do you consent to this binding?"
Bex's throat was tight. She thought of Draco, of the way he'd held her hand when they were children, when she'd had nightmares. Of the way he'd always protected her, even when they were small.
Now it was her turn to protect him.
"I do," she whispered.
"Then we begin." Snape pointed his wand at their clasped hands. "Narcissa, speak your terms."
Narcissa took a deep breath. "Will you watch over Draco as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?"
The words felt like a weight settling on Bex's chest. But she answered. "I will."
A thin tongue of flame erupted from Snape's wand. It wound around their clasped hands like a glowing chain.
"Will you protect him from harm," Narcissa continued, her voice shaking now, "and do everything in your power to ensure his success?"
Bex thought of all the ways she'd already been protecting Draco. Covering for him. Taking blame. Shouldering burdens.
This was just one more. "I will."
Another tongue of flame. Another chain wrapping around their hands. The magic was tightening, binding, becoming part of her.
Narcissa's eyes were wet with tears. "And should Draco fail or prove unable to complete his task…" Her voice broke. "Should he be unable to kill Albus Dumbledore. Will you take his place and do it yourself?"
Bex looked at her mother. At the desperation in her eyes. At the love and fear and terrible, terrible hope.
"I will," Bex said.
The final tongue of flame erupted. It wrapped around their hands, joining with the others, forming a complete chain. The magic flared bright, almost blinding, and then sank into their skin.
Bex gasped. It felt like fire and ice at once. Like something had just changed inside her.
The flames faded. Snape lowered his wand.
"It is done," he said quietly.
Narcissa pulled Bex into a rough embrace. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, my darling girl. You've saved him. You've saved us all."
But Bex didn't feel like a savior. She felt like she'd just signed her own death warrant. Because now she had no choice. If Draco couldn't kill Dumbledore, and he couldn't, they all knew he couldn't, then Bex would have to do it.
Or she would die.
Snape moved to the door. "I suggest you both get some rest. The summer is not yet over, and there is still much to prepare."
He left without another word.
Narcissa pulled back, cupping Bex's face. "You're so strong," she said. "So much stronger than you know. You'll do what needs to be done. I know you will."
Bex said nothing. What was there to say?
Narcissa kissed her forehead and stood. "Come. Let's get you back to your room."
They walked through the dark corridors again. At Bex's door, Narcissa paused. "Draco doesn't need to know about this. Not yet. Let him focus on his task. Let him try."
"And when he fails?"
"Then you'll be there." Narcissa's voice was gentle. "You'll always be there for him. That's what family does."
She left. Bex entered her room and closed the door. She stood in the darkness for a long moment, just breathing.
Then she looked down at her hands. They looked the same as before. No mark, no scar, no visible sign of what she'd just done.
But she could feel it. If Draco fails, you will kill Dumbledore. Or you will die.
She moved to her bed and sat down. Her whole body was shaking now. She'd just promised to commit murder. Had bound herself with magic that would kill her if she refused. She had to kill Dumbledore. There was no other option. She would become a murderer or she would die. Those were her only choices now.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
The first one through was Amycus Carrow.
"Well, well," he said. "The little Malfoys actually did it."
His sister came next. Alecto Carrow smiled, showing too many teeth.
Fenrir Greyback came through third. The werewolf had to duck to fit through the cabinet doors. He straightened slowly.
Three more Death Eaters emerged. The first was tall and broad-shouldered, his face hidden behind a silver mask. The second was shorter, with a mask that covered only the upper half of his face. The third was a woman, her mask ornate and decorated with what looked like serpents.
"Is it done?" the tall one asked. His voice was muffled behind his mask.
"Not yet," Draco said. His voice was steadier than Bex had expected, but she could see his hands shaking at his sides. "We need to get to the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore will be there. He's been gone from the castle. He'll return tonight and go straight there. We have it on good authority."
They'd overheard enough conversations, pieced together enough information to know where Dumbledore would be tonight. He had been away, searching for something. A Horcrux, Bex suspected. And when he returned, weakened from whatever he'd faced, he would go to the Astronomy Tower.
"Good authority," Greyback repeated mockingly. He moved closer to Bex, close enough that she could smell him. "And if you're wrong, little Malfoy? If this is a trap?"
"It's not a trap," Draco said firmly. "We've been planning this for months. Everything is ready."
Amycus studied them both for a long moment, then he smiled. "Well then. Lead the way, children. Let's go kill a headmaster."
"Stay close," Draco murmured to Bex as they moved toward the door. "Don't let them separate us."
Bex nodded. They left the Room of Requirement in a group. The castle was dark, most of the torches had been extinguished for the night. Bex's heart hammered against her ribs with every step. Her mind was racing.
This is wrong. This is so wrong. We shouldn't be doing this.
But what choice did they have? If they failed, if they refused, the Dark Lord would kill them, would kill their parents, would destroy everything.
You're not a monster, Hermione had said. But Hermione didn't understand. Hermione lived in a world of clear choices, of right and wrong. She didn't understand what it was like to have no good options, to have to choose between terrible and worse.
"Nervous?" Greyback whispered behind her.
Bex didn't answer, didn't look back at him, she just kept walking.
"You should be," he continued, his voice a low rumble. "Killing changes you. Especially the first time. You'll never be the same after tonight."
"Shut up," Draco hissed.
Greyback laughed. "Protective of your sister. How sweet. Tell me, boy. When the Dark Lord tires of you both, which one of you do you think he'll kill first?"
"I said shut up."
"Enough," Alecto said sharply.
They turned down another corridor. Bex recognized where they were, near the library, heading toward the main staircase. They'd have to climb several more floors to reach the Astronomy Tower.
She thought of Hermione, of the way she'd looked at Bex I see you. The real you. But what was the real her? The girl who'd held Hermione's hand? Or the girl who was leading Death Eaters through Hogwarts to commit murder?
Maybe they were the same person. Maybe that was the problem.
They reached the main staircase and started climbing. "Faster," the shorter Death Eater growled. They climbed faster. Bex's legs burned, her breath came in short gasps.
Bex's mind wouldn't stop racing. She kept thinking about what came next, about what they were going to do. She was going to watch Dumbledore die tonight, or worse, she was going to be the one to kill him.
Could she do it? Could she actually say the words? Could she watch the life leave Dumbledore's eyes?
They reached the sixth floor, one more to go.
"Almost there," Draco murmured, his face was pale, his jaw tight. He looked like he might be sick.
Bex felt the same way.
They climbed the final staircase. The one that led to the Astronomy Tower. With every step, Bex's heart pounded harder. Her hands were shaking now. She clenched them into fists, trying to steady herself.
I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't.
But she had to. She had to.
The door to the Astronomy Tower was at the top of the stairs. It was slightly open. Greyback held up a hand, stopping them. He moved forward carefully, wand raised, and pushed the door open wider. Nothing happened. No spell, no trap, no ambush.
"Clear," he said.
They entered the tower.
It was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the open archways. The wind was cold, carrying the scent of rain.
And at the far end, near the railing, stood Albus Dumbledore.
He looked smaller than Bex remembered. Older. His robes hung loose on his frame, as if he'd lost weight. His face was pale. One of his hands was blackened, withered, as if it had been cursed.
His wand lay several feet away on the stone floor.
He'd been disarmed, or he'd dropped it. Either way, he was defenseless.
This would be easy and that made it so much worse.
"Draco," Dumbledore said gently. His voice was tired but kind. "Bex. I've been expecting you."
Draco raised his wand. His hand was shaking so badly Bex thought he might drop it.
"We have to," Draco said, his voice cracking. "You don't understand. He'll kill us. He'll kill our family."
"I know," Dumbledore said. "I know what he's asked of you. What he's threatened."
"Then you know we don't have a choice."
"There is always a choice, Draco."
Footsteps on the stairs. The other Death Eaters were arriving. Amycus came through first. Alecto followed, the masked woman came last.
"Well, well," Amycus said, surveying the scene. "The great Albus Dumbledore. Wandless. Helpless." He laughed. "Not so great after all."
Greyback moved to the side, blocking the door. Alecto positioned herself near another exit. They were surrounding him,making sure he couldn't escape. Not that he looked capable of escaping. He looked like he could barely stand.
"Get on with it, boy," Amycus said to Draco. "Or are you too weak?"
Draco's wand hand shook harder. Tears were streaming down his face now, though his expression remained hard.
"I have to," he whispered. "I have to."
"You don't," Dumbledore said softly. His blue eyes, still bright despite his obvious weakness, focused on Draco with compassion. "You are not a killer, Draco. I can help you. Both of you. There is still time."
"There's no time!" Draco's voice broke completely. "You don't understand. He'll kill everyone. My mother, my father, Bex. Everyone I care about. He'll make me watch."
"I do understand," Dumbledore said. "I appreciate the difficulty of your position… Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now?"
"Pathetic," Greyback snarled. He moved closer, his yellow eyes gleaming. "The boy can't even do it."
"Draco." Dumbledore's voice remained gentle. "Lowering your wand doesn't make you weak. It makes you strong. It takes more courage to choose mercy than to choose violence. I can help you, Draco."
Draco's arm wavered and the wand dipped slightly.
Bex's heart was in her throat. She could barely breathe.
"He can't do it," Alecto said with disgust. "Weak. Just like your father."
"Someone has to," Amycus added. His wand was raised now, pointed at Draco. "Or we all answer to the Dark Lord. And I don't fancy explaining how we failed because a seventeen-year-old boy couldn't find his spine."
Draco was crying openly now. His wand was still raised but his whole body was shaking. He looked at Bex, his eyes desperate.
"I can't," Draco whispered aloud. "I can't, I can't."
And then Bex heard it. A small, sharp intake of breath. She turned her head slightly, just enough to see. There, in the shadows near the doorway, partially hidden behind a stone pillar, Hermione.
She was pressed against the wall, her face pale in the moonlight. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the scene before her. On Draco with his wand raised, on Dumbledore, defenseless, on Bex.
Their eyes met.
For one terrible moment, they just looked at each other. Hermione's expression was devastated, betrayed. She'd followed them. She'd seen everything. And now she was watching as Bex…
No, Bex thought desperately. No, you shouldn't be here. You shouldn't see this.
But Hermione was here and she was seeing everything.
"Well?" Amycus demanded. "Someone do it. Now. Or I'll kill you both and do it myself."
Bex stepped forward. Her hand was steadier than Draco's. Her wand raised smoothly, pointed directly at Dumbledore's chest.
She felt Hermione's eyes on her. Don't, she imagined Hermione saying. Please don't. You're not a monster. You're not.
But she was. She had to be. Because if she wasn't, if she couldn't do this, then everyone she loved would die.
The old man looked at her, not with fear, not with anger, with forgiveness.
"Bex," he said quietly. "You don't have to do this. Please."
But she did, she did have to. Because if she didn't, they would all die. Her mother. Her father. Draco. Maybe even Hermione, if the Dark Lord decided to punish her through the people she…
No. Don't think about that.
"I'm sorry," Bex whispered. Her wand stayed raised and her arm didn't shake.
Draco stared at her, his face pale, his eyes wide with horror and relief and shame.
Dumbledore simply looked at her with accepting eyes like he'd known all along it would come to this.
And Hermione, Hermione was still watching from the shadows. Bex could feel her there, could feel her presence.
I'm sorry, Bex thought toward her. I'm so sorry. I wish I could be who you think I am. I wish I could be strong enough to choose differently. But I'm not.
Bex's finger tightened on her wand.
You're stronger than you know, Hermione had said.
But what if being strong meant doing terrible things? What if being strong meant becoming exactly what everyone already thought she was? The words formed in her mind. The curse. The unforgivable one. What if there was no coming back from this? All she had to do was say it. Just two words. Two words and it would be over. Dumbledore would be dead. The Dark Lord would be pleased. Her family would be safe. And she would be a murderer. She would be exactly what Hermione feared she was.
"Do it," Amycus hissed.
"Now," Alecto added.
Greyback laughed. "Come on, little Malfoy. Show us what you're made of."
Bex looked at Dumbledore one last time. His blue eyes were sad. Then she glanced toward the shadows,toward Hermione. Their eyes met again. Hermione's face was wet with tears. Her hand was pressed against her mouth, like she was trying to keep from crying out.
Please, her expression said. Please don't. I know you. I know who you really are. Please.
Bex's heart shattered. But her wand stayed raised.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
The next three days were the longest of Bex's life.
She and Draco went to classes. They did their homework, ate meals in the Great Hall, and acted like everything was normal.
Draco was worse at pretending than she was. He barely slept. Bex could hear him moving around the common room at night, pacing. Sometimes she'd find him staring at nothing, his hand pressed against his left forearm. He'd lost more weight. His robes hung loose on his frame.
"You need to eat," Bex told him at breakfast on the second day.
"I'm not hungry."
"I don't care. Eat anyway." She pushed toast toward him. "If you collapse, people will notice."
Draco looked at the toast like it was poison. But he picked it up. Took a bite and chewed.
Across the Great Hall, Hermione was watching them. Bex felt her gaze. She didn't look back.
"She's staring again," Draco muttered.
"I know."
"You told her."
"She saw the Mark. I didn't have a choice."
Draco's jaw tightened. "And she hasn't reported us."
"No."
"Why not?"
Bex didn't have an answer for that. She'd been asking herself the same question for three days. Hermione should have gone straight to McGonagall. Should have exposed them both. Should have done the right thing.
But she hadn't.
"I don't know," Bex said finally.
Draco looked at her. "You like her."
"Don't."
"You do. You like Granger."
"It doesn't matter what I like." Bex's voice was flat. "None of it matters. We're just waiting now."
"Waiting to kill Dumbledore."
Bex pushed her own plate away. She wasn't hungry either.
Hermione couldn't stop watching Bex. She told herself it was surveillance. Keeping an eye on a known Death Eater. Making sure Bex wasn't doing anything suspicious. But that wasn't really why.
She watched because Bex looked different now. She looked tired, scared, human in a way she hadn't seemed before. And Hermione couldn't reconcile the girl who'd been honest in the bathroom with the girl who wore a Dark Mark.
"You're staring," Harry said quietly.
Hermione jerked her attention back to her breakfast. "I'm not."
"You are. At the Slytherin table. At Draco and…" Harry paused. "What's her name again? His sister?"
"Bex," Hermione said before she could stop herself.
Ron looked up from his eggs. "Why do you care about the Malfoys?"
"I don't."
"Then why are you watching them?"
"I'm not watching them. I'm just…" Hermione stopped. She couldn't explain, couldn't tell them about the Mark or the bathroom or any of it. "I'm just tired. Not sleeping well."
Harry's expression softened. "None of us are."
That was true enough. The war was getting closer. Everyone could feel it.
Hermione looked back at the Slytherin table despite herself. Bex was pushing food around her plate. Not eating. Draco beside her looked even worse. Pale, gaunt. Like he was being eaten alive from the inside.
They're scared, Hermione realized. They're both terrified.
The thought should have made her feel better. Should have felt like justice. But it didn't.
It just made her feel sad.
Bex was in the library that afternoon when Hermione found her.
She'd been trying to study, trying to focus on Transfiguration homework. But the words kept blurring together. Her hand kept drifting to her left forearm.
"Can I sit?"
Bex looked up. Hermione stood beside the table, her bag over her shoulder.
"It's a free castle," Bex said.
Hermione sat. Pulled out her own books. For several minutes, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, two girls doing homework, like this was normal. Like everything was fine.
"You look terrible," Hermione said finally.
"Thanks."
"I'm serious. You look like you haven't slept in days."
"I haven't."
Hermione's quill paused over her parchment. "Because you're waiting."
It wasn't a question. Bex looked at her. "Yes," Bex said quietly.
"For what?"
"I can't tell you."
Hermione's hand tightened on her quill. "Can you tell me when?"
"I don't know. Soon." Bex looked back at her homework. At the words she couldn't read. "Could be tonight. Could be next week. He doesn't exactly give advance notice."
"You could run."
"We've had this conversation."
"I know. But you could." Hermione leaned forward slightly. "You and Draco. You could leave. Right now. Just…just go. Disappear."
"And then what? He finds us. Kills us. Kills our parents. Kills everyone we've ever spoken to." Bex's voice was empty. "There's no running from this, Granger. There's only through."
Hermione was quiet for a long moment. "I still haven't told anyone. About your Mark."
"I know."
"I should."
"Yes. You should"
"But I haven't."
Bex looked at her again. Hermione's expression was conflicted.
"Why?" Bex asked.
"I don't know." Hermione's voice was frustrated. "Because you were honest with me. Because I think… I think you're trapped. Because telling someone won't actually change anything. You'll still have the Mark. You'll still be waiting. You'll still have to do what he tells you."
"So you're protecting me."
"No. I'm not protecting you." Hermione's eyes flashed. "I'm just…I'm trying to understand. Trying to figure out if there's any way to…to help."
"There isn't."
"There has to be."
"There doesn't." Bex closed her Transfiguration book. She wasn't going to get any work done anyway. "This is what it is, Granger. I'm a Death Eater. I have orders. I'll follow them. And then I'll live with what I've done. Or I won't. Either way, it's not your problem."
"It is my problem." Hermione took a breath. "We could lose the war."
"I know."
"Then don't do whatever it is he wants you to do."
"It's not that simple."
"It is that simple!" Hermione's voice rose slightly. A few students at nearby tables looked over. She lowered her voice. "You have a choice. You always have a choice."
"Do I?" Bex leaned back in her chair. "Because from where I'm sitting, my choices are: do what he wants and live, or refuse and watch everyone I love die. That's not really a choice, Granger. That's just picking which nightmare I can survive."
Hermione's jaw worked. She looked like she wanted to argue. To insist that there was always another way. But she didn't.
Because maybe she was starting to understand that there wasn't. "I hate this," Hermione said finally.
"So do I."
They sat in silence. The library around them was peaceful. It felt wrong.
"What's it like?" Hermione asked suddenly. "The Mark. Does it hurt?"
Bex pulled up her left sleeve without thinking. The Dark Mark was visible. Dark against her pale skin. The skull and serpent seemed to move slightly in the light.
Hermione stared at it. Her face had gone pale.
"It burns when he calls," Bex said. "Like someone's pressing a hot iron to your skin. And even when it's not burning, you can feel it. Always. Like it's alive."
"Can you…can I…" Hermione stopped. Started again. "Can I touch it?"
Bex blinked. "What?"
"I want to understand. I want to…I need to see it. Really see it." Hermione's voice was steady but her hands were shaking slightly. "If that's okay."
Bex should have said no. Should have pulled her sleeve back down. Should have kept this distance between them.
But she didn't.
She held out her arm.
Hermione reached across the table. Her fingers were gentle when they touched Bex's forearm. She traced the outline of the skull. The serpent. Her touch was hard at first. But then it softened.
"It's warm," Hermione said quietly.
"It's always warm."
"Does it…does it control you? Magically?"
"No. It's just a mark. A brand." Bex watched Hermione's fingers move over her skin. "The control is psychological. You know what happens if you disobey. You know what he's capable of. That's enough."
Hermione's thumb pressed against the center of the Mark. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"That this happened to you. That you were… that you didn't get to choose."
"I did choose. In the end. I knelt. I held out my arm. I let him mark me."
"Because you were scared."
"Because I was a coward."
"No." Hermione's eyes met hers. "Because you were sixteen and alone and surrounded by people who'd been grooming you for this your entire life. That's not cowardice. That's… that's survival."
Bex pulled her arm back and pulled her sleeve down. The Mark disappeared beneath fabric but she could still feel where Hermione had touched it. Could still feel the gentleness of her fingers.
"You should hate me," Bex said.
"I know."
"You should want me dead."
"I know that too."
"Then why don't you?"
Hermione was quiet for a long moment. "Because I think you hate yourself enough for both of us."
The words hit like Hermione had punched her. Bex looked away. Focused on the bookshelf across the room. On anything except Hermione's face.
"I should go," Bex said.
"Wait." Hermione reached across the table. Her hand hovered near Bex's. Not quite touching. "I meant what I said. In the bathroom. Don't do anything you can't come back from."
"What if I already have?"
"Then… then come back anyway. Find a way." Hermione's voice was fierce. "Promise me you'll try."
Bex looked at her. At this girl who should be her enemy. Who was her enemy, really. But who was also sitting here, asking her to promise something impossible.
"I'll try," Bex said.
It was a lie. They both knew it was a lie. But Hermione nodded anyway.
"Okay," she said. "Okay."
Bex gathered her books. Left the library. Left Hermione sitting there alone.
That night, Bex couldn't sleep.
She lay in her bed in the Slytherin dormitory and stared at the ceiling. The room was quiet. The other girls were asleep.
Bex's arm itched. Not the Mark. Just… everything. Her whole body felt wrong. She got up, pulled on her robes, and left the dormitory.
The common room was empty. The fire had burned down to embers. Bex sat in one of the chairs near the hearth and pulled her knees to her chest.
She thought about Hermione. About the way she'd touched her Mark. About the way she'd said that's survival like she understood. But Hermione didn't understand. Not really. Because Hermione had never been in a position where all her choices were terrible. Where every path led to something she couldn't live with.
Hermione got to be brave because she'd chosen her side. Because she believed in what she was fighting for. Bex didn't get to choose. And she didn't believe in anything except keeping Draco alive, keeping herself alive.
The door to the boys' dormitory opened. Draco stepped out, looking as sleepless as she felt.
"Can't sleep either?" he asked.
"No."
He sat in the chair beside her. They stared at the dying fire together.
"Do you think it'll hurt?" Draco asked quietly. "Killing him."
"I don't know."
"Father said it gets easier. After the first time."
"Father's killed a lot of people."
"Yeah." Draco's voice was hollow. "Do you think we'll be like him? After?"
Bex thought about their father. About Lucius Malfoy with his cold eyes and his easy cruelty. About the way he'd looked at them at the party after they'd received their Marks. Proud and satisfied. Like they'd finally become what he'd always wanted them to be.
"I don't know," Bex said again.
"I don't want to be like him."
"Neither do I."
They sat in silence. "Granger touched your Mark today," Draco said. "I saw you. In the library."
"She wanted to understand."
"And you let her."
"Yes."
Draco looked at her. "You're going to get hurt. When this is over. When we do what we have to do. She's going to hate you."
"She already hates me."
"No. She doesn't. Not yet. But she will." Draco's voice was gentle. Sad. "And it's going to destroy you."
Bex didn't argue. Because he was right. When she helped kill Dumbledore, Hermione would hate her. Really hate her. Not the complicated almost-understanding they had now. But real, pure hatred.
And Bex would deserve it.
"I know," she said quietly.
Draco reached over. Took her hand and squeezed it once.
They sat there together until the fire went out completely. Then they went back to their separate dormitories.
The next day was worse.
Bex's nerves were frayed. Every time someone touched her left arm, she flinched. Every time she felt the slightest warmth, she thought it was the Mark burning.
But it never was.
Draco was even worse. He snapped at Pansy during breakfast. Nearly hexed Goyle when he bumped into him in the corridor. By lunch, he looked ready to scream.
"You need to calm down," Bex told him.
"I can't."
"You have to. People are noticing."
"Let them notice." Draco's hands were shaking. "I can't do this anymore. I can't just… just wait. I need it to happen. I need it to be over."
"It will be. Soon."
"When?"
"I don't know."
Draco laughed. It was a broken sound. "We're going to kill the greatest wizard alive and we don't even know when. We're just… we're just sitting here. Waiting. Like lambs for slaughter."
"We're not lambs."
"Aren't we?" Draco looked at her. His eyes were wild and desperate. "We're seventeen, Bex. We're children. And we're about to commit murder because a madman told us to. If that's not lambs for slaughter, I don't know what is."
Bex didn't have an answer for that.
They finished lunch in silence. Went to their afternoon classes. Pretended everything was fine.
But nothing was fine.
Hermione found Bex again that evening.
Bex was in an empty classroom on the third floor. She'd been pacing. Trying to burn off the nervous energy that had been building all day.
"You're avoiding the common areas," Hermione said from the doorway.
Bex turned. "So are you."
"I was looking for you."
"Why?"
Hermione stepped into the classroom. Closed the door behind her. "Because you look like you're about to break. And I… I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm not okay."
"I know." Hermione moved closer. "Is it today? Is that why you're…"
"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not." Bex ran her hands through her hair. "I don't know anything. I'm just waiting. We're both just waiting. And it's… it's killing me."
"Then don't do it."
"Granger-"
"I'm serious. Don't do it. When the Mark burns, ignore it. Don't go. Don't help. Just… just refuse."
"And then everyone I love dies."
"Maybe they won't. Maybe-"
"They will." Bex's voice was sharp. "You don't understand. You can't understand. This isn't a choice between right and wrong. This is a choice between terrible and worse. And I'm choosing terrible because at least terrible means Draco lives. At least terrible means I live."
"What about everyone else? What about all the people who'll die if you do what he wants you to?"
"I don't know them."
"That doesn't make their lives worth less!"
"It does to me!" Bex's voice cracked. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that makes me a bad person. I'm sorry I'm not brave like you. I'm sorry I can't sacrifice myself for the greater good. But I can't. I won't. I'm going to do what I have to do to survive. And if that makes me a monster, fine. I'm a monster."
Hermione stared at her. Her eyes were bright with tears. "You're not a monster."
"Yes, I am."
"No. You're not." Hermione crossed the remaining distance between them. Stood close enough that Bex could see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. "You're scared. You're trapped. You're making impossible choices. But you're not a monster."
"How can you say that? How can you look at me… at what I am… and say that?"
"Because I see you." Hermione's voice was strong. "I see you, Bex. Not just the Mark. Not just the Death Eater. I see the girl who's terrified. The girl who's trying to protect her brother. The girl who hates what she has to do but does it anyway because she doesn't know how else to survive."
Bex felt tears burning in her eyes. She blinked them back. "You shouldn't see me like that."
"Why not?"
"Because it makes this harder."
"Good." Hermione reached out. Her hand found Bex's and she held it. "It should be hard. It should hurt. Because that means you're still human. That means there's still something in you worth saving."
Bex looked down at their joined hands. Hermione's fingers were warm.
"I don't think I can be saved," Bex said quietly.
"I think you can. I think you're stronger than you know."
"I'm not strong. I'm a coward."
"You're surviving. That takes strength too."
Bex wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe that there was something in her worth saving. That she wasn't just a Death Eater. Just a killer. Just a girl who'd made all the wrong choices.
But she couldn't.
"When it happens," Bex said, "when I do what I have to do… you'll hate me. You know that, right?"
"Maybe." Hermione's grip tightened. "Or maybe I'll understand. Maybe I'll hate what you did but not who you are."
"That's the same thing."
"No. It's not." Hermione pulled Bex closer. Their faces were inches apart. "What you do doesn't define you. Not completely. You're more than your worst choice."
"I wish that were true."
"It is true."
Bex wanted to kiss her. Wanted to close the distance between them and pretend for just a moment that things were different. That they were different. That this could be something other than what it was.
But she didn't.
Because Hermione deserved better than a Death Eater. Better than a girl who was about to help murder someone. Better than someone who was already broken.
"You should go," Bex said.
"I don't want to."
"Granger-"
"Hermione." Her voice was soft. "Call me Hermione."
Bex's breath caught. "Hermione… You should go."
Hermione looked at her for a long moment. Then she nodded, stepped back, and let go of Bex's hand.
"Okay," she said. "But Bex?"
"What?"
"I meant what I said. You're stronger than you know. And when this is over… whatever happens… I'll still see you. The real you. Not just the Mark."
She left before Bex could respond.
Bex stood alone in the empty classroom. Her hand was still warm from where Hermione had held it. Her chest was tight. She touched her left forearm through her sleeve.
It happened at dinner.
Bex was pushing food around her plate, not eating, when the Mark burned. It wasn't gradual. Wasn't a slow build. One moment it was fine. The next it was on fire.
She gasped. Dropped her fork. Her hand flew to her left arm.
Across the table, Draco made a similar sound. His face had gone white.
The burning intensified. Spread from the Mark up her arm. Into her chest. It felt like her blood was boiling. Like her bones were cracking. Like she was being torn apart from the inside.
Now, the Mark seemed to say. Now. Come now.
Bex stood. Her chair scraped against the floor. Students nearby looked over.
Draco stood too. They looked at each other. This was it.
"We have to go," Draco said, his voice was shaking.
"I know."
They left the Great Hall together. Walked quickly through the corridors. The Mark burned with every step.
Bex's mind was racing. This was it. This was the moment. Everything they'd been waiting for. Everything they'd been dreading.
They were going to kill Dumbledore.
They were going to become murderers.
They were going to cross a line they could never uncross.
As they climbed the stairs toward the Room of Requirement, Bex thought about Hermione. About the way she'd held Bex's hand. About the way she'd said you're stronger than you know.
But Bex didn't feel strong.
She felt terrified.
They reached the seventh floor. The corridor was empty.
Draco looked at her. "Together?"
"Always," Bex said.
They walked past the tapestry three times before the door appeared.
Inside, the Room of Requirement was exactly as they'd left it. The vanishing cabinet stood in the middle waiting for them.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
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When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
Bex had been standing in front of the vanishing cabinet for twenty minutes, her wand steady in her hand, but she hadn't cast anything yet. Draco was beside her, silent. They'd been working on this for weeks. Weeks of failed attempts and near misses and adjustments that didn't quite work.
But tonight felt different.
"We should test it again," Draco said finally. His voice was flat and tired.
"We've tested it seventeen times."
"Eighteen won't hurt."
Bex looked at him. There were shadows under his eyes, he'd lost weight. They both had. The Mark on her arm throbbed dully.
"If it works," she said slowly, "that's it. We're done."
"That's the point."
"Is it?" Bex turned to face him fully. "Because once this works, Death Eaters can get into Hogwarts. People will die, Draco. Students. Professors. People we know."
Draco's jaw tightened. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't act like you care. We're past that." He pulled an apple from his bag. It was small, slightly bruised. He'd been using fruit for the tests. Easier than living things. Less guilt when they came back wrong.
He placed the apple inside the cabinet and closed the doors. His wand moved in the familiar pattern they'd practiced hundreds of times. The incantation was barely a whisper.
They waited.
Thirty seconds. A minute. Two.
Draco opened the doors.
The apple was gone.
"Now we wait for Borgin to send it back," Bex said.
They'd established the connection weeks ago. The sister cabinet in Borgin and Burkes. Every test went through the same process. Send something through. Wait for it to return. Check for damage.
So far, everything had come back wrong, rotted, broken. Once, an apple had come back as ash.
They sat on the floor. Backs against a pile of broken furniture.
Bex pulled her sleeves down over her hands. The Mark was always visible if she wasn't careful. She'd taken to wearing long sleeves constantly. Even in the common room, even alone.
"What do you think he'll have us do?" Draco asked. "After."
"I don't know."
"He'll want us to prove ourselves. Show we're useful." Draco's voice was hollow. "Father said the first kill is the hardest."
Bex's stomach turned. "Don't."
"You said don't before. Didn't stop anything."
They fell silent. The minutes dragged on. Bex counted them. Five. Ten. Fifteen.
At twenty minutes, Draco stood. Walked back to the cabinet. His hand hesitated on the door handle.
"Open it," Bex said.
He did.
The apple sat inside. Perfect, whole, and unmarked.
Draco picked it up with shaking hands. Turned it over. Examined every inch. "It's fine. It's completely fine."
Bex stood and moved to stand beside him. The apple looked normal. It smelled normal. She took it from him, pressed her thumb against the skin. No soft spots. No rot. No damage at all.
"We did it," she said.
"We did it," Draco repeated. He didn't sound happy, he sounded terrified.
They stared at the cabinet. At the thing they'd spent weeks repairing. The thing that would let Death Eaters into Hogwarts.
Bex felt sick.
"We should tell him," Draco said.
"I know."
"Tonight."
"I know."
Neither of them moved.
"I need air," she said abruptly. "I need to get out of here."
"Bex-"
"Just for a bit. I'll come back."
She left before he could argue. Left the Room of Requirement and its piles of broken things and its working cabinet. Left Draco standing there alone with their success.
The castle was quiet. Most students were at dinner. Bex's footsteps echoed in the empty corridors. She didn't know where she was going.
She ended up near the prefects' bathroom. The one with the huge tub and the stained glass windows. She'd been here before, years ago, when things were simpler.
The door was unlocked.
Inside, the bathroom was empty. Steam rose from the tub even though no one had drawn a bath. Magic kept the water hot.
Bex went to one of the sinks. Turned on the cold water, splashed it on her face, her hands. The water was freezing and it helped to ground her.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Pale, thin, dark circles under her eyes that matched Draco's. She looked like someone who hadn't slept properly in months.
Because she hadn't.
The Mark throbbed. Bex pushed up her left sleeve without thinking. Looked at the skull and serpent on her forearm. It was still slightly red around the edges. Still healing, even after this time. Or maybe it would always look like that, always angry, always fresh.
She turned on the water again. Started scrubbing at her hands, her wrists, her forearm. The soap smelled like honey. It was too gentle for what she was trying to do.
The door opened.
Bex's head snapped up. Her sleeve was still pushed up, the Mark was completely visible.
Hermione Granger stood in the doorway.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Hermione's eyes went to Bex's arm, to the Dark Mark. Her face went white.
"You…" Hermione's voice cracked. "You're one of them."
Bex yanked her sleeve down, too late, far too late.
"Get out," Bex said.
"You're a Death Eater." Hermione's voice was rising. "You're a fucking Death Eater."
"I said get out."
"How long?" Hermione stepped further into the bathroom. The door swung shut behind her. "How long have you had that Mark?"
Bex didn't answer.
"How long, Bex?"
"Since summer." The words came out flat and empty.
Hermione's hands curled into fists. "Since summer. You've had that Mark since summer and you've been walking around this school like… like you're just another student. Like you're not one of them."
"I am just another student."
"You're a Death Eater!"
"I know what I am!" Bex's voice echoed off the tile. "You think I don't know? You think I forget for even a second?"
Hermione stared at her. Her eyes were bright with anger. With betrayal. "I almost-" She stopped. Started again. "I almost started to think you weren't as bad as I thought. That maybe there was something decent in you. But you're just like the rest of them."
"Yes," Bex said. "I am."
"Does Draco have one too?"
Bex's silence was answer enough.
"Of course he does." Hermione laughed. It was a bitter sound. "The Malfoy twins. Both marked. Both serving him. I should have known. I should have…" She pressed her hands to her face. "Merlin, I'm so stupid."
"You're not stupid."
"Don't." Hermione's hands dropped. "Don't you dare try to- to what? Comfort me? After everything?"
"I'm not trying to comfort you."
"Then what are you trying to do?"
Bex didn't know. She looked at Hermione. At the girl who'd been occupying her thoughts for months.
"I didn't have a choice," Bex said quietly.
"We’ve talked about this before Malfoy, everyone has a choice."
"No. They don't." Bex leaned back against the sink. She was so tired. "You think I wanted this? You think I woke up one day and decided to become a Death Eater?"
"You could have said no."
"And then what? They kill my parents? They kill Draco? They kill me?" Bex's voice was rising. "You don't understand how this works, Granger. You don't understand what it's like to be born into this."
"So you're a victim now?"
"No. I'm not a victim. I'm complicit. I know that." Bex pushed her sleeve up again. Showed the Mark. "I know exactly what I am. But I didn't choose this. Not really. This was chosen for me before I could even speak."
Hermione stared at the Mark. At the skull and serpent burned into Bex's skin. "You could have run."
"Where? There's nowhere to run. Nowhere he can't find us." Bex pulled her sleeve back down. "You think your side is the only one with people who don't want to fight? You think everyone with a Dark Mark is evil?"
"Yes," Hermione said. But she didn't sound certain.
"Then you're more naive than I thought."
"Don't call me naive."
"What else should I call you? You see the world in black and white. Good and evil. Light and dark. But it's not that simple."
"It is that simple," Hermione insisted. "Voldemort is evil. The Death Eaters serve him. That makes them evil too."
"Fine. I'm evil then." Bex's voice was sharp. "Is that what you want to hear? That I'm a monster? That everything you thought about me was right?"
"I don't know what I want to hear!"
Hermione's chest was heaving. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
Bex felt something crack inside her. Some wall she'd been holding up for months. Years, maybe.
"I was sixteen," she said quietly. "When they gave me the Mark. Sixteen years old and I knelt in front of the Dark Lord and let him burn this into my skin. And you know what I felt?"
Hermione didn't answer.
"Pride." Bex's voice was hollow. "I felt proud. Because that's what I'd been taught to feel. That's what I'd been groomed to feel since I was old enough to understand what the Mark meant. My whole life, I was told this was an honor. A privilege. That I should be grateful to serve him."
"But you know better now."
"Do I?" Bex looked at her. "I don't know what I know anymore. I know I'm scared. I know I don't want to die. I know I don't want Draco to die. I know I don't want to kill anyone. But I also know that if the Dark Lord tells me to do something, I'll do it. Because the alternative is worse."
"The alternative is standing up for what's right."
"The alternative is death, Granger. For me. For my family. For everyone I care about." Bex's hands were shaking, she shoved them in her pockets. "You get to be brave because you have a choice. Because you chose this fight. I didn't get to choose."
"You're choosing now. Every day you serve him, you're choosing."
"You're right." Bex's voice was tired. "I am. I'm choosing to survive. I'm choosing to keep the people I love alive. And if that makes me a coward, fine. I'm a coward."
Hermione was quiet for a long moment. Her anger hadn't faded but something else had crept in, something that looked like understanding.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked finally.
"I don't know." Bex leaned her head back against the mirror. "Maybe because I'm tired of lying. Maybe because you're the only person who's ever looked at me like I'm more than just a Malfoy. More than just a Death Eater."
"I don't look at you like that."
"You did. Once." Bex's eyes met Hermione's. "In the library. When you told me you think about me."
Hermione's face flushed. "That was a mistake."
"Was it?"
"Yes."
"Okay." Bex pushed off from the sink. "Then I'll leave you alone. I'll go back to being what you think I am. A monster. A Death Eater. Someone not worth your time."
She moved toward the door. Hermione didn't stop her. But as Bex's hand touched the handle, Hermione spoke.
"Wait."
Bex stopped. Didn't turn around.
"I don't-" Hermione's voice was strained. "I don't think you're a monster."
"You should."
"Maybe. But I don't." Hermione took a breath. "I think you're scared. I think you're trapped. I think you've made terrible choices. But I don't think you're a monster."
Bex turned slowly. Hermione was looking at her with an expression that was angry still, but also sad.
"I can't forgive you," Hermione said. "Not for the Mark. Not for serving him. Not for any of it."
"I'm not asking you to."
"Good. Because I won't." Hermione crossed her arms. "But I also can't… I can't just hate you. As much as I want to. As much as I should. I can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't know." Hermione's voice was frustrated. "Because you're honest, I think. Just now. That was the first time you've been really honest with me. And I-" She stopped. "I appreciate honesty."
Bex almost laughed. "You appreciate honesty from a Death Eater?"
"I appreciate honesty from anyone." Hermione's jaw was set. "Even people I shouldn't trust."
They looked at each other. The anger between them hadn't disappeared. The betrayal was still there. The Mark on Bex's arm was still real, still damning.
But something had changed.
"What happens now?" Bex asked.
"I don't know." Hermione's hands uncrossed. Dropped to her sides. "I should report you. Tell McGonagall. Tell Harry. Tell everyone what you are."
"But you won't."
"I don't know," Hermione repeated. "I should. But…" She looked at Bex's arm. At where the Mark was hidden beneath the sleeve. "You're right. About some things. Not everything. But some things."
"Like what?"
"Like the world not being black and white." Hermione's voice was quiet. "Like people being trapped. Like… like not everyone having a real choice."
Bex felt something loosen in her chest. Not relief, not quite, but something close.
"I'm still angry at you," Hermione said.
"You should be."
"And I don't trust you."
"You shouldn't."
"And I think you're making the wrong choice. Every day. Every moment you serve him."
"I know."
Hermione nodded slowly. "Okay. As long as we're clear."
"We're clear."
They stood there in the prefects' bathroom with steam rising around them. Bex wanted to say more, wanted to explain about the cabinet, about what was coming, about how scared she was.
But she couldn't. Some things were still too dangerous to share.
"I should go," Bex said finally.
"Yeah." Hermione didn't move. "Bex?"
"What?"
"Don't-" Hermione's voice caught. "Don't do anything you can't come back from. Please."
Bex looked at her. At the girl who should hate her. Who did hate her, probably. But who was also asking her not to cross a line she couldn't uncross.
"I'll try," Bex said.
It was the most honest thing she'd said all night.
She left the bathroom. Left Hermione standing there alone. The corridor outside was still empty. Bex's hands were shaking.
She'd told the truth. For the first time in months, maybe years, she'd told someone the truth about what it was like. About the fear and the pride and the impossible choices.
And Hermione hadn't forgiven her. But she hadn't condemned her either.
It wasn't friendship. It wasn't trust. It wasn't anything close to okay.
But it was something. Some small change between them. Some acknowledgment that things were more complicated than either of them wanted to admit.
Bex made her way back to the Room of Requirement. Draco was still there. Still standing in front of the cabinet.
"Where did you go?" he asked.
"Nowhere." Bex looked at the cabinet. "We should tell him."
"Now?"
"Now."
Draco pulled up his sleeve. Pressed his wand to his Mark. Bex did the same. The burning sensation was immediate.
They waited.
Five minutes later, the Mark burned again.
"He wants us to wait, until he tells us it's time," Draco said. His voice was shaking.
"I know."
They looked at each other.
"Together?" Draco asked.
"Always," Bex said.
They left the Room of Requirement together. As they entered the Slytherin common room Bex thought about Hermione. About the way she'd looked at Bex's Mark. About the anger and the sadness and the small, fragile thing that might have been understanding.
Don't do anything you can't come back from.
Bex touched her Mark through her sleeve. She was afraid it was already too late for that.
Hermione stayed in the bathroom for a long time after Bex left. She sat on the edge of the tub and stared at the tile floor. Trying to process what had just happened.
Bex was a Death Eater. Had been since summer. Served Voldemort. Reported to him. Was one of them.
Hermione should tell someone. Should run to McGonagall or Dumbledore or Harry. Should expose Bex for what she was.
But she didn't move.
Because Bex had been honest. Finally, actually honest. And Hermione couldn't ignore that.
She thought about the way Bex had looked when she'd talked about getting the Mark. About being sixteen and feeling proud because that's what she'd been taught to feel. About not having a choice.
Hermione wanted to believe everyone had a choice. Wanted to believe that good people chose good and bad people chose bad and it was that simple.
But it wasn't that simple. She knew that. Had always known that, really.
Some people were born into darkness. Raised in it. Taught that it was light. That didn't excuse them. Didn't make their choices okay. But it complicated things. And Hermione hated complicated things.
She stood finally and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked tired.
She left the bathroom and went back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry and Ron were in the common room, playing wizards chess.
"There you are," Ron said. "We were about to send a search party."
"I was studying," Hermione lied.
"Course you were." Ron moved his knight. "Harry's losing. Again."
Hermione sat down and watched them play. She tried to focus on something normal. Something simple.
But she kept thinking about Bex. About the Mark on her arm, about the fear in her voice when she'd talked about not having a choice.
Hermione didn't know what to do with any of it. She didn't forgive Bex. She couldn't forgive her, not for this. But she also couldn't hate her the way she wanted to. The way she should. Because for the first time, she'd seen something real in Bex. Something vulnerable and scared and human. And Hermione didn't know what to do with that either.
"Hermione?" Harry's voice broke through her thoughts. "You okay?"
"Yes," she said. "I'm fine."
But she wasn't fine. Nothing was fine. And she had a feeling it was only going to get worse.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
TW: Drinking
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
The drawing room at Malfoy Manor had never felt so cold.
Bex stood beside Draco in the center of the room, both of them perfectly still. The summer air outside was warm, but in here it was cold. Dark curtains were drawn across the windows. Candles floated overhead, their flames barely flickering. The light they cast was greenish and sickly.
Death Eaters lined the walls. Masks off. Watching.
Bex recognized most of them. The Carrows stood near the fireplace. Yaxley by the door. Rowle. Dolohov. Others whose names she'd heard at dinner parties.
Her parents stood to the left. Her mother's face was composed, elegant as always, but her hands were clasped too tightly in front of her. Her father stood with his cane, his expression proud.
At the far end of the room, in the high-backed chair that had belonged to Bex's grandfather, sat the Dark Lord.
Bex had seen him twice before. Once from a distance at a gathering when she was fourteen. Once closer, last summer, when he'd looked at her and Draco and said they would be useful. But she'd never been this close.
His skin was pale, stretched too tight over his skull. His eyes were red and flat and when they fixed on her, Bex felt her stomach turn over.
"Draco," Voldemort said. His voice was soft. It shouldn't have been frightening but it was. "Step forward."
Draco moved. He walked toward the Dark Lord with his chin up, his shoulders back. He looked calm, but Bex knew him. She could see the tension in his jaw. The way his left hand trembled slightly before he curled it into a fist.
Voldemort extended his own hand. He had long fingers and the nails were slightly too long.
"Kneel."
Draco didn’t hesitate as he knelt. Bex watched as he extended his left arm without being asked. His sleeve was already rolled up.
Voldemort placed the tip of his wand against Draco's skin.
Bex couldn't look away. She wanted to, wanted to close her eyes or turn her head but she couldn't. She watched as the Dark Lord began to speak in a language she didn't understand. Watched as black smoke began to curl from the end of his wand. Watched as it sank into Draco's arm.
Draco's face went white. His jaw clenched so hard Bex thought his teeth might crack. But he didn't make a sound. Didn't pull away. He stayed perfectly still as the Dark Mark burned itself into his flesh.
It took less than a minute. When it was done, the skull and serpent stood out against Draco's pale skin. The edges looked raw and angry, like a fresh brand.
"Rise," Voldemort said.
Draco stood. His legs shook slightly but he managed it. He looked at the Mark on his arm for a long moment. Then he looked at the Dark Lord.
"Thank you, my Lord," he said, his voice steady.
Voldemort smiled. It was a terrible thing to see. "You are mine now, Draco. Body and soul. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Good." Voldemort's red eyes shifted and found Bex. "Now you."
Bex's heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. Her hands were cold and her mouth was dry. But she moved forward anyway. She passed Draco on his way back to their parents. Their eyes met for half a second.
Then she was standing in front of the Dark Lord.
"Kneel, Bex."
She knelt. The floor was hard beneath her knees. She extended her left arm the way Draco had and rolled up her sleeve.
Voldemort's wand touched her skin.
The pain was immediate.
It felt like her arm was being flayed open from the inside. Like something was burrowing under her skin, carving and burning and marking her as it went. Bex bit down on the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood. She would not scream. Would not cry out. Would not give anyone in this room the satisfaction of seeing her break.
But Merlin, it hurt.
The Dark Mark spread across her forearm in black lines, the skull's empty eyes stared up at her. The serpent coiled through its jaw, its mouth open in a silent hiss. It was beautiful in a horrible way.
When the pain finally stopped, Bex was shaking. She couldn't help it. Her whole body trembled with the aftershocks of agony.
"Rise."
She stood. Her legs felt weak but they held her. She looked down at the Mark on her arm. At the thing that would be with her for the rest of her life. The thing that marked her as his, as one of them.
She should have felt trapped, should have felt scared. And part of her did. Part of her wanted to run from this room and never come back. Wanted to scrub at her arm until the Mark came off, even though she knew it never would.
But that wasn't the strongest feeling.
The strongest feeling was pride.
She'd done it. After years of preparation, years of being told this was her destiny, her purpose, her birthright, she'd finally earned it. The Dark Mark. The symbol that separated the worthy from the weak. She was one of them now. Really, truly one of them. Not a child anymore. Not someone to be dismissed or overlooked. She was a Death Eater.
The pride swelled in her chest, warm and fierce and undeniable. It pushed down the fear and the doubt. This was what she'd been raised for.
"Thank you, my Lord," Bex said, her voice didn't shake.
Voldemort studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded, almost approvingly. "You will serve me well, I think. Both of you." His gaze shifted to include Draco. "The Malfoy twins. How fitting."
He stood. The Death Eaters around the room straightened. Bex stepped back, moving to stand beside Draco again. Her arm throbbed. The Mark felt hot against her skin, like it was still burning.
"Tonight we celebrate," Voldemort announced. His voice carried through the room. "Two more join my ranks. Two more pledge themselves to my cause. Let it be known that the Malfoy family continues to serve me faithfully."
Lucius inclined his head in pride.
The Death Eaters began to move. The tension in the room had loosened slightly. Someone opened the curtains. The last rays of summer sunlight spilled across the floor, warm and golden and completely at odds with everything that had just happened.
Voldemort left first. He swept from the room without another word, Nagini slithering behind him. The moment he was gone, the atmosphere changed completely. Death Eaters who had been silent and still began to talk, to laugh, to move toward Bex and Draco with congratulations on their lips.
Alecto Carrow reached them first. She grabbed Bex's left arm without warning, yanking it up to examine the Mark. Her grip was too tight. It hurt. But Bex didn't pull away.
"Look at that," Alecto said, her voice sharp with approval. "Fresh as anything. How does it feel?"
"It hurts," Bex said honestly.
"Good. It should." Alecto released her arm. "Pain means it took. Means you're really one of us now." She looked at Draco. "Both of you. About time, I'd say. You're what, sixteen?"
"Seventeen in a few weeks," Draco said.
"Old enough, then." Alecto smiled. It wasn't a kind smile. "Old enough to fight. Old enough to kill, if it comes to it. Are you ready for that?"
Bex met her eyes. "Yes."
"We'll see." Alecto moved away, already losing interest in them.
More Death Eaters came forward. Yaxley clapped Draco on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. Rowle examined Bex's Mark with an approving grunt. Dolohov said something in Russian that made the others laugh. Bex didn't understand the words but she understood the tone.
Her mother appeared at her side. Narcissa's hand was cool against Bex's cheek. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Bex said.
"Let me see."
Bex held out her arm. Her mother's fingers were gentle as they traced the edges of the Mark, careful not to press too hard. The skin was still angry and red around the black lines.
"It's beautiful," Narcissa said softly. Then, quieter, "I'm sorry."
Bex looked at her. "Don't be. I'm proud."
And she was. Merlin help her, she was.
Narcissa's eyes were sad, but she nodded. "Come. There's a gathering in the ballroom. You should be there."
The ballroom had been transformed.
Long tables lined the walls, covered in food and drink. Crystal goblets, silver platters. House elves moved silently between the guests, offering trays of hors d'oeuvres and refilling glasses before they could empty. Music played from somewhere.
It looked like any other Malfoy party. Except everyone here was a Death Eater.
Bex and Draco entered together. Heads turned and conversations paused. Then someone started clapping. Others joined in. Within seconds the entire room was applauding. For them. For their Marks. For joining the ranks.
Bex felt her face flush. Beside her, Draco stood straighter. The pride in her chest grew stronger, hotter. This was what it felt like to belong. To be accepted. To be seen as worthy.
A house elf appeared in front of them with a tray of champagne flutes. Bex took one. So did Draco. They'd been allowed wine at dinner before, small amounts under their parents' supervision. But this was different. This was a celebration. This was them being treated as adults.
"To the Malfoy twins," someone called out. Bex thought it might have been Mulciber. "May they serve the Dark Lord well."
"To the Malfoy twins," the room echoed.
Bex raised her glass and drank. The champagne was cold and crisp and went straight to her head. She'd barely eaten today, too nervous. Now the alcohol hit her system like a warm wave.
Draco drained his glass in three swallows. His eyes were bright. "That's good."
"It's expensive," their father said, appearing beside them. He looked at them both for a long moment. "You did well today. Both of you. I'm proud."
It was rare for Lucius Malfoy to say such things. Bex felt something tight in her chest loosen slightly. "Thank you, Father."
"Don't let it go to your heads," he continued. "The Mark is an honor. But it's also a responsibility. You understand that, don't you?"
"Yes, sir," Draco said.
Lucius nodded. Then, surprisingly, he placed a hand on each of their shoulders. Just for a moment. "Enjoy tonight. You've earned it."
He moved away, back toward a group of older Death Eaters near the fireplace. Bex watched him go. Then she turned to Draco.
"Another?" she asked, nodding toward the champagne.
Draco grinned. It was the first real smile she'd seen from him all day. "Definitely."
They drank, and drank, and drank.
The house elves kept the glasses full. No one stopped them, no one told them to slow down. They were Death Eaters now, adults. They could do as they pleased.
The alcohol made everything warmer. The pain in Bex's arm faded to a dull throb. The fear that had been sitting in her stomach all day dissolved. She felt light. Giddy, almost. She couldn't stop looking at her Mark, at Draco's.
"Look at you two," Amycus Carrow said, stumbling over with a bottle of firewhiskey in one hand. He was already drunk. "All grown up. I remember when you were this high." He held his hand at waist level. "Little blonde brats running around the Manor. Now look at you. Death Eaters. Fuck me."
He thrust the bottle at Draco. "Here. Have some of the good stuff. Champagne's for ladies."
Draco took the bottle and drank straight from it. His face screwed up at the taste but he didn't cough. He passed it to Bex.
The firewhiskey burned going down. It was stronger than the champagne. But Bex liked it.
"That's it," Amycus said approvingly. "You'll fit right in."
The night blurred after that.
Bex found herself laughing at something Rowle said, though she couldn't remember what it was. Found herself dancing with Draco to music that was too slow for dancing, both of them stumbling and giggling. Found herself sitting on one of the tables, swinging her legs, while Dolohov told a story about a raid that ended with someone's house burning down. It should have been horrifying, but everyone was laughing. So Bex laughed too.
Draco was beside her through all of it. At one point he grabbed her left arm and held it up next to his, comparing their Marks.
"They're identical," he said, his words slightly slurred. "Exactly the same."
"We're twins," Bex pointed out. "Everything about us is identical."
"Not everything. You're meaner than me."
"I am not."
"You are. You're terrifying. I'm charming."
Bex shoved him. He shoved her back. They both nearly fell off the table. Someone caught them. Yaxley, maybe. Or Travers. Bex had lost track.
"Careful," whoever it was said. "Don't want you breaking your necks on your first night as Death Eaters. Bad form."
More laughter, more drinks. The room spun pleasantly. Bex felt warm and happy and accepted in a way she'd never felt before. These people, these Death Eaters, they were her family now. More than her actual family, in some ways.
She belonged here.
At some point, Bex found herself outside on the terrace. The cool night air felt good against her flushed skin. She leaned against the stone railing, looking out over the Manor grounds. The gardens were dark and beautiful.
Draco appeared beside her. He had another bottle of something. Wine, this time. He offered it to her and she drank.
"How's your arm?" he asked.
Bex looked down at her Mark. It still hurt. But the pain felt distant now, muffled by alcohol. "Fine. Yours?"
"Hurts like hell." He paused. "But I'm glad we did it."
"Me too."
They were quiet for a moment. The sounds of the party drifted out from inside. Laughter, music, breaking glass, someone singing badly.
"Are you scared?" Draco asked quietly.
Bex considered the question. Was she scared? Yes. Terrified, if she was honest. Terrified of what the Mark meant, of what they'd be asked to do. Of the war that was coming. Of dying. Of killing. Of becoming someone she didn't recognize.
But that wasn't what she said.
"No," Bex said. "I'm proud."
And it was true. The pride was still there, still stronger than everything else. She was proud of her Mark. Proud to be a Death Eater. Proud to serve the Dark Lord. It didn't matter that part of her was screaming that this was wrong, that they'd made a terrible mistake, that there was no going back now. That part was small and easy to ignore.
"Me too," Draco said. He held up his left arm, looking at his Mark in the moonlight. "We did it, Bex. We're really part of this now."
"We are."
He smiled. It was a strange smile. Happy and sad at the same time. "No turning back."
"No turning back," Bex agreed.
They stood there together. Bex felt Draco's hand find hers. Their fingers intertwined. His skin was warm.
"Whatever happens," he said, "we're in this together. Right?"
"Always," Bex said.
And she meant it. Whatever came next, whatever horrors the war brought, whatever they were asked to do in the Dark Lord's name, they would face it together.
She squeezed Draco's hand. He squeezed back.
Inside, someone called their names. The party was still going. There was more drinking to be done, more celebrating.
Bex and Draco went back inside together.
The night stretched on. At some point, Bex's mother tried to convince them to go to bed, they ignored her. At some point, their father stopped watching them with that careful, assessing look and started drinking himself. At some point, the older Death Eaters began to leave.
But Bex and Draco stayed. They stayed until the sky began to lighten. Until the house elves started clearing away the debris. Until they were the only ones left in the ballroom, sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall, another bottle between them.
"I can't feel my face," Draco said.
"That's probably bad," Bex replied.
"Probably."
They looked at each other and started laughing. It wasn't funny. Nothing about this was funny. But they couldn't stop. They laughed until their sides hurt, until tears ran down their faces, until they couldn't breathe.
When they finally stopped, Bex felt hollow.
She looked at her Mark again. At the skull and serpent that would be with her forever. At the proof of her loyalty, her servitude, her choice.
Except it hadn't really been a choice, had it? This was what they'd been raised for. What they'd been groomed for. What they'd been told they wanted since before they could remember. And now they had it. Now they were Death Eaters. Now they belonged.
So why did she feel so empty?
"Bex?" Draco's voice was quiet. Sober, despite all the alcohol. "Are we going to be okay?"
Bex wanted to say yes. Wanted to promise him that everything would be fine, that they'd made the right choice, that the pride they felt was real and justified and good.
But she was too drunk, too tired, too honest.
"I don't know," she said.
Draco nodded slowly.
They sat there in silence as the sun rose over Malfoy Manor.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
Bex made it three corridors before she had to stop. Her back hit the stone wall and she pressed her palms flat against it. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her uneven breath but all she could think about was Hermione’s voice.
Why me?
The question had sounded so small and confused. Like Bex’s attention had meant something to Hermione. Bex pushed herself off the wall and kept walking. She didn’t know where she was going. Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. Most students were at dinner by now. She should go to the Great Hall, sit with her housemates and pretend everything was normal. She should eat something. She turned down another corridor instead, then another.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about those two words. Why me?
Because you’re brilliant, Bex thought. Because you’re everything they fear. Because watching you felt like the only real thing in my life for weeks. She stopped walking. Her wands were shaking so she curled them into fists. Her nails bit into her palms through the thin fabric of her gloves. The pain helped. It always did.
She shouldn’t miss it. Watching Hermione had been a task, an order, something she had been forced into with threats and pain. She should feel relieved that it was over. Instead, she felt hollow.
The next three days passed in a blur. Bex went to classes. She took notes. She answered when called on. She sat in the Great Hall at meals and push food around her plate while Theo made sarcastic comments and Pansy gossiped about who was sleeping with whom.
She did not go to the library.
On the first day, she told herself it was practical. She had other things to do after all. Draco needed her help with the cabinet, she had essays to write, she could study in the common room just as easily.
On the second day, she told herself it was strategic. Carrow had said the surveillance was over. Going to the library would look suspicious.
On the third day, she stopped lying to herself.
She was avoiding the library because she knew if she went, she would look for Hermione. And if she looked for Hermione, she would find her. And if she found her… Bex didn’t allow herself to finish the thought.
But avoiding the library didn’t help. Because even though she wasn’t watching Hermione anymore, she couldn’t stop seeing her.
In the corridors between classes Bex would catch a glimpse of bushy brown hair and her heart would stutter. At meals her eyes would drift to the Gryffindor table. In potions, she found herself listening to Hermione’s voice when she answered Slughorn’s questions instead of ignoring it.
It was worse than the watching had been. At least then she’d had permission, a reason. Now it was just… this.
On the fourth day she found herself taking a different route to Transfiguration. One that happened to pass by the library entrance. She told herself it was coincidence
She slowed as she approached the doors. Through the gap, she could see rows of shelves, students bent over books. She couldn’t see Hermione from the gap but she knew that she was in there. At her usual table, surrounded by books and parchment. Probably biting her lower lip in concentration.
Bex’s fingers twitched toward the door handle. Then she forced herself to keep walking.
“You’re distracted.”
Draco’s voice cut through her thoughts. Bex blinked and refocused on the vanishing cabinet in front of her. They were in the Room of Requirement. The space was cluttered, filled with discarded objects that were piled high in towers.
“I’m not distracted,” Bex said.
“You’ve been staring at the same hinge for ten minutes without actually doing anything.”
Bex pulled out her wand and cast a diagnostic charm. The magical signature flickered weakly. “The connection is still fractured. We need to-”
“I know what we need to do.” Draco’s voice was sharp. He looked terrible, shadows deep beneath his eyes, face gaunt, hands trembling slightly as he gripped his wand. “I’ve been working on this for months, Bex. I know every inch of this bloody cabinet.”
“Then why isn’t it working?” The words came out harsher than she’d intended. Draco flinched. Bex closed her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“It’s fine.” But his voice was tight. “You’re right. It should be working by now. It needs to be working.”
He turned back to the cabinet, muttering incantations under his breath. His wand movements were precise but desperate, like he was trying to force the magic to obey.
Bex watched him. She could read him better than anyone and right now, he was terrified.
“Draco.” She said quietly.
He didn’t respond. Just kept casting, kept muttering, kept trying.
“Draco.”
“What?” He spun to face her, his eyes wild. “What, Bex?” Do you want to tell me it’s going to be fine? That we’ll figure it out? Because we’re running out of time and if this doesn't work…” His voice cracked. “If this doesn’t work, mother…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
Bex crossed to him and grabbed his shoulders. “Look at me.”
He did. His grey eyes were bloodshot and desperate. “We’re going to fix this,” she said. “Together. Like we always do.”
“What if we can’t?”
“We will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.” She squeezed his shoulders. “I know us. We’re Malfoys. We survive.”
They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Then Draco pulled away and turned back to the cabinet. “The left door is still misaligned. Can you check the hinges while I work on the internal enchantments?”
Bex nodded and moved to the left side of the cabinet. She ran her fingers along the wood, feeling for imperfections in the magical signature. But her mind kept drifting.
“Bex.”
She jerked back to attention. “What?”
“I asked if you felt any fluctuations in the lower hinge.”
“Right. Sorry.” She cast another diagnostic charm, but her concentration was fractured. The spell flickered and died.
Draco was watching her now. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been off for days. Ever since.” He paused. “Ever since Carrow ended your surveillance.”
Bex’s hands stilled on the cabinet. “I’m fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar. At least to me.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Is it Carrow? Did she do something? Because if she hurt you again-”
“She didn’t.” Bex cut him off. “The surveillance is over, that’s all.”
“Then why do you look like someone died?”
Because something did, Bex thought. The routine, her purpose, the excuse to watch Hermione Granger and pretend it was just a task.
“I’m just tired.” she said instead.
Draco studied her face. They’d always been able to read each other, even when they were lying. Especially when they were lying.
“It’s Granger,” he said finally. “Isn’t it?”
Bex’s stomach dropped. “What?”
“You spent weeks watching her. Now you’re not. And you’re…” He gestured vaguely at her. “Like this.”
“I’m not like anything.”
“You miss it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You miss watching her.” His voice wasn’t accusatory. “You got used to the routine. And now it’s gone and you don’t know what to do with yourself.”
Bex wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that it had just been another task, that Hermione Granger meant nothing to her. But this was Draco. The one person she had never been able to lie to successfully.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly. “It’s over.”
“Is it?”
She looked at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve been taking different routes to class, routes that just so happen to pass by the library. It means you stare at the Gryffindor table during meals. It means-”
“Stop.”
“-you’re not as over it as you think you are.” Draco finished.
Bex’s jaw clenched. “I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. The surveillance ended. I’m staying away from her. That’s what Carrow wanted.”
“But is it what you want?”
Bex turned away, back to the cabinet. “What I want doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.” Her voice was firm. “It doesn’t. We do what we’re told. We protect Mother. That’s all that matters.”
Draco was quiet for a long moment. Then, “You sound like Father.”
The words hit Bex like a slap. Her hands curled into fists. “I’m nothing like him.”
“Aren’t you? Doing what you’re told. Burying what you feel. Pretending it doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Then why are you so miserable?”
Bex spun to face him. “Because I’m watching my brother slowly kill himself trying to fix and impossible task! Because our mother’s life depends on us succeeding! Because everything is falling apart and I can’t-” She stopped, breathing hard. “I can’t afford to be distracted.”
Draco’s expression softened. “Bex-”
“I’m fine.” She forced her voice to steady. “I’m fine. Let’s just… let’s just focus on this damn cabinet.”
He looked like he wanted to argue. But after a moment, he nodded and turned back to the cabinet.
They worked in silence for another hour. Bex checked hinges and magical signatures. Draco muttered incantations and adjusted enchantments. Neither of them mentioned Hermione again.
But when they had finally finished and Bex left the Room of Requirement, her feet didn’t carry her back to the dungeons. They carried her to the library.
She told herself she was just looking for a book. Something on magical transportation that might help with the cabinet. That was all. But when she pushed open the library doors her eyes didn’t scan the shelves. They scanned tables. And there she was.
Hermione sat at her usual spot, surrounded by books and parchment. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, a few curls escaping to frame her face. She was biting her lower lip in concentration, quill moving rapidly across the page.
Bex’s chest tightened. She should leave. Should turn around and walk out before Hermione noticed her. Instead, she found herself walking deeper into the library. She selected a book at random from a nearby shelf, something about ancient runes, and sat down three tables away.
Close enough to see Hermione clearly, far enough to maintain plausible deniability.
For several minutes, neither of them moved. Bex pretended to read. Hermione continued writing.
Then Hermione’s quill paused. Her shoulders tensed slightly. Slowly, Hermione lifted her head and looked directly at Bex. Bex’s breath caught. She should look away, should-
“I thought you were done watching me?” Hermione said. Her voice was quiet but still carried clearly in the silent library.
Bex’s fingers tightened on her book. “I’m not watching you. I’m reading.”
“You’ve been on the same page for ten minutes.”
“Maybe it’s a complicated page.”
“It’s the title page.”
Bex glanced down. Hermione was right. She had the title page open for ten minutes. She closed the book. “I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not.” Hermione said.
Bex stood anyway but Hermione was faster. She crossed the space between them quickly and stopped directly in front of Bex’s table, blocking her path.
“Move, Granger.”
“No.”
“I’m not doing this with you.”
“Doing what?” Hermione’s eyes were bright with hurt or anger, Bex couldn’t tell. “Having a conversation? Because we never really finished that last one.”
“There’s nothing to finish.”
“You said it was never about me.” Hermione leaned forward, hands braced on the table. “But you’re here, again. In the same library where you spend weeks watching me. So either you’re a liar. Or you don’t know what you want.”
Bex’s heart was racing. “I know exactly what I want.”
“Then tell me.”
“I want you to move.”
“Liar.” They stared at each other. Bex could see the pulse point in Hermione’s throat beating rapidly, could count the freckles on her nose, could smell her perfume.
“Why do you care?” Bex asked quietly. “Why does it matter to you what I was doing?”
Hermione’s expression changed, “Because you made it matter. You watched me for weeks. You argued with me. You-” She stopped, jaw clenching. “You made me notice you. And now you’re acting like it meant nothing.”
“It didn’t”
“Then why are you here?”
Bex didn’t have an answer. Or rather, she had too many answers and none of them were safe to say.
“I needed a book.” She said finally.
“You’re still a terrible liar.”
“And you’re still insufferable.”
“There it is.” Hermione’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “That’s what I wanted. You, being honest for once.”
“I’m always honest.”
“No, you’re always careful. There’s a difference.” Hermione straightened, crossing her arms. “You always act like your afraid of giving something away.”
“Maybe I just don’t like you.”
“If you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t be here.”
Bex’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you’re scared.”
Bex’s breath caught, “i’m not-”
“You are.” Hermione’s voice was softer now. “I don’t know what you’re scared of. But I see it every time you look at me.”
Bex’s throat felt tight. “You see what you want to see.”
“Do I?” Hermione took a step closer. They were barely two feet apart now. “Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t think about me. Tell me you haven't been avoiding the library because you knew i’d be here. Tell me-”
“Stop.”
“-that watching me wasn’t about me. That I mean nothing.”
“Granger-”
“Say it.” Hermione’s eyes were filled with anger now. “Say I mean nothing to you and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll stop asking questions.”
“I can’t.” The words escaped before Bex could stop them.
Hermione went still, “What?”
Bex’s heart was pounding so hard she thought it might break through her ribs. “I can’t say that.”
“Why not?”
Because it would be a lie. Because you’re all I think about. Because watching you was the only thing that felt real and now that it’s over I don’t know what to do with myself.
“Because it’s complicated,” Bex said instead.
“Then uncomplicate it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because-” Bex stopped. She couldn’t explain. Couldn’t tell Hermione about Carrow, about the threats, about the way her family’s safety depended on her obedience. Couldn’t tell her that wanting her was dangerous. This this, whatever this was, could get them both killed.
“Because you’re Slytherin and I’m a Gryffindor?” Hermione’s voice was sharp. “Because of some stupid house rivalry?”
“Because you’re you and I’m me and that’s all that matters.” Bex interrupts.
Hermione stared at her. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer I can give you.”
For a long moment neither of them moved. Then Hermione stepped back, “Fine.”
“Hermione-”
“No. It’s fine.” Her voice was tight. “You want to keep your secrets? Keep them. I’m done trying to figure you out.”
She turned and walked back to her table and started gathering her books.
Bex should leave, walk away while she could. Instead she heard herself say, “I missed it.”
Hermione froze. “What?”
“Watching you, arguing with you. I…” Bex’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I missed it.”
Hermione turned slowly, “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do.”
Bex’s left hand started shaking. She shoved it into her pocket. “It doesn’t matter why.”
“It matters to me.” Hermione whispered.
“It shouldn’t.”
“But it does.” Hermione took a step toward her. Then another. “It does Bex. And I think it matters to you too. I think that’s why you’re here. Why you keep coming back even though you’re trying so hard to stay away.”
Bex’s throat felt like it was closing. “You should stay away from me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not-” she stopped then started again, “Because this isn’t safe.”
“What isn’t safe?”
This. You. The way I feel when you look at me. “Nothing,” Bex said “Forget I said anything.”
She turned to leave but Hermione’s voice stopped her, “I think about you.”
Bex’s heart stopped and she turned back slowly. Hermione was watching her, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold something in. “I think about you. More than I should. More than makes sense. And I dont…” She laughed but it sounded broken. “I don’t understand it. I don’t understand you. But I can’t stop.”
They stared at each other. Bex wanted to close that distance. Wanted to cross the library and touch Hermione’s face and tell her everything. Wanted to be honest for once in her life. But she couldn’t. Because honesty was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
“I have to go,” Bex said.
“Of course you do.” Hermione’s voice was bitter. “You always do.”
“Hermione…”
“Just go, Bex. I’m tired of watching you run.”
So Bex did. She turned and walked out of the library, she didn’t look back.
That night, Bex lay in her bed in the Slytherin dormitory, staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Hermione. Saw the way she’d looked at Bex in the library. Saw the hurt in her eyes when Bex had walked away, again.
I think about you.
The words replayed in her head over and over. Bex rolled onto her side, pulling her blanket tighter around herself. Her hand throbbed, the pain was familiar. But it didn’t help this time. Nothing helped.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Hermione Focused Chapter
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
Hermione stepped out of the Transfiguration classroom with her bag slung over her shoulder, already bracing herself for the familiar prickling along the back of her neck as she felt eyes on her.
Nothing.
She slowed, glancing to her left, then right. The corridor was crowded. Students moved past her in clusters, a Ravenclaw bumped her shoulder and muttered an apology, a pair of third years ran past, nearly colliding with a suit of armor.
But still… nothing.
Hermione frowned and adjusted the grip on her bag. She told herself it was ridiculous to even be thinking about it. Malfoy had no reason to hover near her. The fact that she had been doing so in the first place was disturbing enough. Hermione continued down the corridor, her steps slowing again as she passed the archway near the Charms wing. That had been one of Malfoy’s usual spots. Leaning against the stone, watching Hermione without pretending not to.
Hermione’s stomach twisted. She kept walking. By the time she reached the staircase, she had checked every shadow without meaning to. She descended two steps, then stopped, turning slightly as if Malfoy might appear out of thin air.
She did not.
Hermione exhaled sharply through her nose and shook her head at herself. This was good. This was what she had wanted. She had complained about Bex to Harry, to Ron, to Ginny. She had listed every reason it made her uncomfortable. The constant watching, the way Malfoy seemed to know where she would be before she did, the way it made Hermione feel like prey.
So why did her chest feel tight now?
She forced herself down the rest of the stairs and headed toward the library. The doors were already open and Hermione relaxed a fraction as she stepped inside. Hermione chose a table near the back and pulled out her books. She stacked them neatly. Her quill tapped against the table once, then again. She looked up. Still nothing.
Hermione scowled and bent over her notes forcing herself to focus. Ancient Runes blurred slightly as her thoughts kept drifting. She read the same sentence three times before realizing she had not absorbed a word of it.
This is stupid, she thought.
She underlined a passage with unnecessary force and flipped the page. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. Hermione’s gaze lifted up again, drawn to the library doors. Students came and went yet Malfoy did not appear. Her quill paused mid-word.
Hermione leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, irritation flaring. She did not miss being watched. She missed knowing where the danger was. That was all. That was reasonable, logical.
She packed up her books more roughly than necessary and left the library. Hermione walked toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, her shoulders tense. She slid into her seat and dropped her bag at her feet. Ron leaned over from the next desk.
“You alright?” he whispered.
“Yes.” Hermione replied automatically.
Harry glanced between them, his brow creasing as he leaned over as well, “You sure?”
She nodded too quickly. “I’m fine. Honestly.”
Professor Snape came into the room before either of them could press further. Hermione turned her attention forward, jaw tight. She took her notes and forced herself to focus on the lecture. When class ended, Hermione stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. She lingered by the door for a moment, pretending to search for something in her bag.
Nothing happened.
She walked out with Harry and Ron, her eyes scanning the corridor.
“You keep looking around,” Ron muttered. “Expecting someone?”
Hermione hesitated. “No.” she said finally. “I just thought… never mind.”
Harry exchanged a look with Ron but did not push. “We’re heading to lunch,” he said. “You coming?”
“In a minute,” Hermione replied. “I need to check something.”
They shrugged and continued down the corridor. Hermione waited until they were gone before letting out a slow breath. She leaned back against the wall and pressed her palm against the cold stone.
Why did this feel wrong?
She straightened and made her way toward the Great Hall. As she entered Hermione looked at the Gryffindor table, she spotted Harry and Ron immediately. Then, without meaning to, her eyes slid to the Slytherin table.
Bex sat near the far end, her posture rigid. Draco was beside her, pale and hunched, barely touching his food. Bex’s attention was on him, not the room, not Hermione.
Hermione slowed. She watched Malfoy for longer than she meant to. The way her shoulders stayed tense. The way her gloved hand rested near Draco’s plate, nudging it closer when he pushed it away. Hermione’s chest tightened again.
She took a seat beside Ginny, forcing herself to look away.
Ginny leaned over. “You alright?”
“Yes.” Hermione said, then sighed. “No…I mean…I don’t know.” Hermione stared down at her plate. “She’s stopped.”
Ginny snorted. “I thought we agreed that this is a win?”
“I know.” Hermione said quickly. “It should be. It just feels strange.”
Ginny studied her. “You miss it?”
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again. She shook her head. “No. Of course not. I just got used to it.”
Ginny hummed, unconvinced, but let it go. Hermione poked at her food without appetite. Across the hall, Malfoy stood and murmured something to Draco before leaving the table. Hermione’s eyes followed her. Malfoy didn’t look back.
Hermione forced herself to eat at least half of what was on her plate before pushing it away. Ron was talking animatedly about something Seamus had done in Charms and Harry was half listening, half watching the room the way he always did now. Hermione nodded at the right moments, laughed when she was supposed to, but her attention kept drifting. She felt off balance. It was the same sensation she got when a stair shifted beneath her feet, when her body braced for a fall that never came. The absence of Malfoy’s presence left a hollow space she did not know how to fill.
After lunch, Hermione stood a little too quickly. “I’m going to the library.”
Ron groaned. “Again?”
“Yes.” she replied. “There’s an Arithmancy concept I want to double check.”
Harry smiled faintly. “We’ll meet you later.”
Hermione nodded and made her way out of the Great Hall. The corridor was busy so she adjusted her grip on her bag and set off at a brisk pace. Halfway down the hall, she felt it again. The prickling on her neck. Not eyes on her but the memory of them. She slowed, pretending to retie her shoe and glanced back over her shoulder.
No one was paying her any attention. Her chest tightened. She stood up and continued walking, slower now. When she reached the library doors, she hesitated before pushing them open. Hermione entered and took a table near the windows this time. She laid out her books, her notes, her quill. She tried to focus. She really did. She read, underlined, cross referenced. But every sound made her glance up. At one point, she caught herself watching the reflection in the window instead of the page in front of her. This was absurd.
Hermoine pressed her lips together and closed her book. She leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. Why did Malfoy watch her in the first place? The question had been on her mind for weeks but now it was impossible to ignore. Hermione had assumed it was intimidation or some twisted power play her parents told her to do to keep her unsettled. But if that was true, why stop now?
She frowned, packed up her things, and left the library. She wandered without a clear destination. Past the Charms classroom. Past the stairwell where Malfoy used to linger. Past the alcove near the tapestry that Hermione had once nearly collided with her in.
The memory surfaced.
Malfoy stepping out of the shadows, close enough that Hermione had sucked in a sharp breath. The way Malfoy’s gaze had flicked to her wand hand before settling on her face. The warning in her voice when she had said, “You should move.”
Hermione’s fingers curled around her bag strap. She hated it. Hated the way Malfoy always seemed to be one step ahead. Hated the way she never knew what she might do. But at least she had known where she was. Now she didn’t.
Hermione rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into someone.
“Oh, sorry.” She said automatically, stepping back.
Bex Malfoy stood in front of her and Hermione froze. They were too close. Much closer than they had been all day. Close enough that Hermione could see the faint shadows under Bex’s eyes, the tight set of her jaw. Close enough to notice that her gloves were pulled on more tightly than usual.
Bex stopped too. Her gaze flicking over Hermione, then away just as quickly.
“Watch where you’re going,” Bex said coolly.
Hermione scoffed. “You were the one standing in the middle of the corridor.”
Malfoy did not rise to the bait. She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder, already angling her body away.
Hermione’s irritation flared. “So that’s it?” she blurted out.
Malfoy paused. “That’s what?” she asked, her tone flat.
“You just stop?” Hermione said, words tumbling out faster than she had meant them too. “You stop following me and you expect me not to notice?”
Bex’s eyes go back to Hermione’s face. For a moment, something unreadable passes through them.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mutters.
“Yes you do!” Hermione snapped. “You’ve been everywhere for weeks. And now you’re not. You don’t get to pretend that’s normal.
Malfoy stared at her for a long moment before speaking. “You should be grateful.”
Hermione laughed, “I am grateful. I just don’t trust it.”
“That sounds like a you problem.” Bex replied.
She stepped past Hermione, brushing close enough that Hermione felt her skin's warmth underneath the sleeve of her robe. Hermione turned, watching her walk away, shoulders rigid.
“Why?” Hermione called after her.
Malfoy stopped. She did not turn around.
“Why me?” Hermione asked, her voice wavering. “What was the point?”
For a long moment, Bex said nothing. Then, quietly, she replied, “It was never about you, Hermione.” With that she continued down the corridor and did not look back.
The way Bex said her name, for the first time, made Hermione’s stomach twist with irritation and some weird form of longing that she refused to acknowledge. She began walking down the corridor again. She caught herself imagining Bex leaning against the stone, gloved fingers tracing the edge of a doorframe, eyes flicking toward Hermione without ever meeting her gaze.
Hermione shook her head, trying to push the thought out, but it refused to leave. It was infuriating. Hermione considered going to the Slytherin common room. The thought made her stomach tighten. She would never allow herself to act on it, of course, but the idea lingered.
She continued walking down the corridor heading for the Gryffindor common room. She thought of Bex the whole way there. And somewhere, in the deepest parts of her mind, Hermione wondered whether Bex thought about her too.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
Bex watched as Granger stood in the Charms corridor, arguing with Professor Flitwick, again. Her voice carried despite her attempt at keeping it measured. Every sentence was precise and backed by logic that Flitwick could not easily dismiss. She gestured with her parchment, curls slipping free from their tie.
Flitwick sighed, it was the sound of a man who had fought and lost this battle too many times. He gave Hermione a weary wave of his hand before saying something and walking away. Granger remained behind, scribbling a furious note in the margin of her parchment.
Bex turned away before she could be seen. Her forearm flared with a dull ache without warning. It wasn’t painful but it was sharp enough to demand attention.
A summons.
Bex did not pause or swear or glance down, she just turned down a side corridor and descended the narrow staircase that led toward the room of requirement. When she arrived, the room was dim, one floating orb providing light, casting long uneven shadows.
Bex looked at Carrow who stood in the middle of the room. Her smile was thin. “You’re late.”
“I was watching Granger.” Bex replied evenly.
Carrow hummed, eyes flicking over her. “Yes. You always are.” Carrow stayed silent for a while before she walked up to Bex. “Your reports, they’ve become… repetitive.”
“Granger’s routines are consistent.”
She began to circle Bex, “Do you know why you were given this assignment Miss Malfoy?”
“To monitor and report Hermione Granger.” Bex answered.
Carrow stopped close front of her. “No,” she said softly.”Granger is incidental.”
Bex’s pulse skipped once and she kept her posture straight.
“We already know everything we need to know about Hermione Granger,” Carrow continued. “Her loyalties, her weaknesses, her irritating little habits. What we don’t know is you.” Carrow tilted her head, studying Bex’s face and she smiled. “You come from loyal blood. Generations of it. But loyalty is not inherited. It is maintained, tested.”
Her fingers brushed the edge of Bex’s shoulder as she dusted it off. “We wanted to see whether proximity would soften you.”
“And?”
Carrow laughed quietly. “Impatient, aren’t you?” She stepped away moving towards the wall, fingers brushing the cold stone. “You’ve been very careful. Too careful. You avoid interpretation. You avoid emotional indicators. You avoid context. Which tells me one of two things. Either you are exactly as obedient as you appear… or you’ve learned how to hide deviation.”
“I have not deviated.” Bex mumbled.
Carrow turned sharply. “Haven’t you?”
She reached into her robes and took out a piece of parchment. It was thin and heavily annotated. Bex recognized her own handwriting beneath the annotations.
“You get caught more than necessary, you redirect rather than punish.” She smiled sharply, “You are not failing, Malfoy. But you are no longer proving anything. That… makes you inefficient.” Carrow continued, “I am considering reallocating resources. Another observer. One with fewer reservations so you can get back to your other duties.”
Bex’s jaw tightened.
“Of course,” Carrow added, watching her closely, “That would mean that your assignment ends.”
Bex’s gaze sharpened for the first time. “Ends?”
“Yes.” Carrow’s smile widened, “You’ve served your purpose.” Something cold settled in Bex’s chest at those words. “Granger’s evaluation is complete. She’s predictable, loud, and defiant. She will break or she will be removed. Either way, she is no longer your concern.”
“And my orders?” Bex exhaled loudly.
Carrow stepped closer. “You are to be reassigned to the other task you took over the summer. Effective immediately” Carrow watched as understanding washed over Bex’s face. “You should be relieved. Attachment, after all, is a liability.” Her voice dropped, “And liabilities are dealt with.” She took a few steps back, “You may go.”
Bex left the room of requirement slowly, her expression cold. Only once she turned into an empty stairwell did she pause. She allowed her fingers to curl painfully around the corner of the stone wall while she bit down on her tongue. For a moment she stood there. Her assignment hadn’t ended because she failed. It had ended because she was ready for the next one.
Bex started down the stairwell and paused halfway down, pressing her back lightly against the cool stone. Her fingers curled around the banister, nails digging in until her palms ached, though she barely noticed. She had been trained to endure worse after all.
She slowly exhaled through her nose as she pushed off the banister and continued down the stairwell. Bex rounded the final curve of the stairwell and took the corridor that led toward the Slytherin common room. She adjusted the gloves covering her hands and smoothed her robes over the faint tremor in her left arm.
Her stomach tightened. She could feel the familiar weight of unease but it was sharper this time. The weight behind it was heavier. Because this time it wasn’t just her life at stake. It was her brothers.
She paused again at the doorway to the common room, taking a long slow breath. She opened the door and moved through the corridor, her hand brushing lightly against the wall to maintain balance. The fire in the hearth glowed faintly as she entered. A few Slytherins lounged nearby, murmuring over their homework. She continued to her dormitory in silence. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she removed her gloves slowly. She flexed her left hand in the air and for the first time in weeks she allowed herself a moment to feel it. The tension, the pull, the ache. She clenched it into a fist, the ache growing.
Her jaw tightened and her teeth bit the inside of her cheek. She leaned back against her mattress and closed her eyes. In the darkness behind her lids she replayed Carrow’s words, You are to be reassigned to the other task you took over the summer. Effective immediately.
Yes. She understood.
And she was ready.
Bex slept lightly that night.
When she woke up she didn’t move. She laid still, breathing slow and even while staring at the wall. Finally, Bex sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor was cold against her bare feel. She rolled her shoulders once, then again, trying to work out the stiffness that always happened after too little sleep. Her left hand twitched faintly before she curled it into a fist and pressed it against her thigh until it stilled.
She dressed quickly in her dark robes and gloves. When she stepped into the common room a few Slytherins were already awake. Theo Nott sat near the fire with a book open on his lap, though he wasn’t reading it. Daphne Greengrass leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes flicking to Bex as she passed.
“Morning.” Daphne said.
Bex inclined her head quickly, “Morning.”
She climbed the stairs out of the dungeon and into the castle. The corridors were mostly empty at this hour and portraits blinked awake as she passed. Her first instinct was to turn toward the corridor near the library.
She stoped herself halfway down the hall. No. That habit is no longer hers to indulge.
She turned around and started walking towards the Great Hall instead. She tried to push down her thoughts as she walked. Still, the thoughts surfaced anyway.
Hermione Granger is probably already awake.
Hermione always is.
The image comes to Bex easily. Hermione hunched over a book, hair frizzed from sleep, fingers smudged with ink. Irritation starts to rise in her chest as she forces the thought away.
She entered the Great Hall and scanned the Slytherin table. She spotted Draco almost immediately. He sat at the table, shoulders hunched, staring down at his plate. His fork lay untouched beside his eggs. Blaise Zabini was talking to him but Draco wasn’t responding. His fingers picked the edge of his sleeve.
Bex did not go to him. Not yet at least. She took her seat at the far end of the table instead and poured herself tea. She scanned the hall, eyes naturally finding the Gryffindor table. Hermione Granger was already there.
She sat with Potter and Weasley, a book propped open beside her plate. She wasn’t reading it, instead her eyes kept looking toward the Slytherin table and then past it, scanning the hall.
Hermione frowned slightly when she didn’t find what she was looking for. She shifted in her seat, tapped her fingers once against the table, then forced herself to look at Potter as he said something low and urgent.
Bex took a sip of her tea as she watched. Hermione had grown used to being watched, now it was gone, and Hermione didn’t know why. Bex finished her breakfast and stood. She did not look at Hermione again. That part of her life was over now.
She crossed the hall and slid into the seat beside Draco.
He flinched. “Merlin,” he muttered, hand flying to his chest. “You trying to kill me now?”
“Eat.” Bex said quietly.
Draco glanced around then leaned closer. “Did Carrow summon you too?”
“Yes.”
His mouth twisted, “You're making sure I complete my assignment now aren't you?”
Bex did not answer. She picked up his fork and nudged it toward his hand instead. “You need to eat Draco.”
Draco stared at her. “You’re not denying it.”
“No,” she said calmly. “I’m not.”
Draco let out a short humorless laugh. He pushed his plate away slightly, then dragged it back again. His fingers closed around the fork Bex had nudged toward him but he didn’t lift it right away.
“So that’s it then,” he muttered. “You’re my keeper now.”
Bex didn’t react to him. She poured herself another cup of tea from the pot and set it down between them. “I’m here to help you brother.” she said instead.
Draco snorted quietly. “Thats not comforting.”
“It’s not meant to be.”
He stabbed at his eggs and took a bite, chewing without interest. His leg bounced under the table. Draco swallowed and leaned closer again. “They didn’t tell me you’d be involved,” he said, voice low. “They just said help would be… provided.”
Bex kept her eyes on her cup, “They never explain things clearly, do they?”
Draco’s grip tightened on his fork. “I can do it.” he said quickly. “I just need more time. I’ve almost figured it out.”
Bex looked at him then. His face was pale, shadows dark under his eyes. There was a thin red mark at his wrist where he’d been worrying the skin raw. “You’re running out of time,” she said quietly.
Draco’s jaw clenched. “I know.”
Bex softened her tone. “Then you need to focus. Eat. Breathe. Stop drawing attention to yourself by picking on Potter.”
“I’m not drawing attention," he snapped, then immediately lowered his voice. “I’m trying not to at least.”
His eyes flicked up to hers. “Are you? Watching me?”
“Yes.”
Draco looked back down at his plate again. “Lucky me.”
Bex finished her tea and stood. “I’ll walk with you to class.”
He blinked. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” She waited. After a moment, Draco stood too, slinging his bag over his shoulder. They moved through the Hall together. As they crossed the threshold, her instincts pulled her gaze toward the Gryffindor table again. Hermione was still there. She was listening intently to Potter now, brow furrowed, her fingers wrapped around her mug. Hermione’s head lifted and her gaze focused on Bex for a fraction of a second. Confusion running over her face before she masked it. She looked back to Potter, jaw tightening.
Bex and Draco stepped into the corridor and followed the halls to his first class. As they approached the door Draco turned.
He hesitated for a moment before asking, “You’ll be there, when the time comes?”
“Yes. I will be there.” Draco nodded sharply at her words and walked into the classroom without looking back.
Bex stood there for a moment longer, watching her brother. Then she turned and headed the opposite direction. As she rounded a corner she could hear muffled voices speaking.
“---she’s stopped?” someone was saying. Lavender Brown, she realized. “It’s strange, right? She used to be everywhere.”
“Maybe she finally got bored?” Parvati replied.
“I don’t think so," Hermione said, her voice thoughtful. “She doesn’t get bored easily.”
Bex slowed slightly as she heard Ginny Weasley speak.
“I don’t know Hermione.” Weasley said. “Sounds like a win to me.”
There was a pause before Hermione spoke. “It should. It just doesn’t feel like one.”
Bex moved on before she could hear more. Her left hand twitched again. She curled it into a fist and forced it still as she walked. She did not allow herself to think about Hermione Granger again. Not now.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
Bex was halfway through a defensive charms essay in the Slytherin common room the next day when a shadow fell across her page. She didn’t look up at first, assuming it was Draco.
“Malfoy.” Bex raised her eyes. Alecto Carrow stood a few steps away with her wand tucked
loosely into her sleeve. “Walk with me.”
Bex closed her book book and rose. Her steps were silent as Carrow led her into a narrow, unused classroom on the lower floor. The windows were shuttered, the desks shoved haphazardly against the walls. With a flick of her wand, the door sealed behind them.
Carrow leaned back against a desk, arms folded. “You’ve been disappointing me Malfoy.”
Bex remained standing. “I’ve been reporting regularly.”
“Yes,” Carrow sighed. “But you’ve been reporting nothing.” Carrow stepped closer, circling her. “Granger attends classes. Granger studies. Granger tutors first years. Granger walks the same damn corridors she’s walked since she was eleven. Is that really all you see?” She sneered as she leaned her face closer to Bex’s.
“She’s cautious,” Bex said evenly. “If she’s involved in anything, she hides it well.”
“And you?” Carrow snapped. “What about you?”
“I’m just doing what I was told.”
“You’ve been hiding Malfoy. I hear you’ve grown… restrained. Quiet. Observant. Careful. Is this obedience or are you pretending?” Carrow twirled her wand in between her fingers as she leaned back and looked at Bex.
“I’m following instructions… being obedient.” Bex murmured as she swallowed hard.
Carrow smirked as she reached into her sleeve and produced a blank piece of parchment, pressing it into Bex’s hands. “I want your reports to be written and detailed. Everything you notice about Granger. Do not omit anything no matter how trivial it seems.”
Bex’s fingers closed around the parchment. “And if there is still nothing worth reporting?”
Carrow leaned closer, her breath ghosting over Bex’s face, “There is always something worth reporting.” She tapped the parchment with the tip of her wand. “Routes she takes. Who she speaks to. Where she lingers. Her moods. Her weaknesses. Patterns are everything, and you will deliver them daily.”
Bex’s jaw tightened as Carrow leaned closer to her, “Daily?”
Bex felt Carrow’s hand wrap around her throat as Carrow began to speak, “Every day. Every hour if I decide I want it. And you… you will stop pretending you’ve already failed.”
“And if I can't deliver the reports when you want them?” Bex choked out.
She leaned closer and tightened her grip, “You will deliver. Because if you don’t you will be reminded what happens when Malfoys disappoint the Dark Lord.” Carrow loosened her grip but didn’t let go yet. “You will deliver because your mother is still alive, because your brother still breathes, and because the Dark Lord wills it.”
Bex swallowed, her chest felt tight but she kept her voice level, “I understand.”
Carrow straightened and finally let go. “Good.” She turned toward the door, paused, and glanced back. “And Malfoy?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t mistake this for mercy.” The door opened and shut behind her. Bex stayed standing where she was, gripping the parchment in her fist. She looked down, folded the parchment once and tucked it into her bag. Then she left the classroom.
When she arrived at her dormitory she took a seat at her desk with a sigh. She took out her quill and the parchment and stared out into the center of her room. Imagining Hermione in the library, in potions, walking the corridors. Her hand shook slightly as she began writing.
Hermione Jean Granger
Attends classes consistently
Assists first years with care and patience
Shows leadership qualities when no professor is present
Bex paused, quill hovering. Carrow wanted patterns, weaknesses, missteps, anything that could be twisted into a mark of rebellion or risk. These were not it but Bex continued to write.
Observant, notices small changes in routines
Maintains relationships with students
Unlikely to act rashly without careful planning
Her quill scratched over the parchment harder now, her chest starting to feel tight.
Calm under pressure
Deflects provocations effectively
She stopped then. The lines were true and that was enough for now. She folded the parchment carefully and placed it into a small envelope. She slid it into the bottom drawer of her desk. She let out a long sigh but the weight in her chest did not lift.
Hermione noticed the shift in Bex two days later.
It wasn’t anything obvious. No confrontations, no spells cast in the corridors. It was just a feeling she couldn’t shake.
She had just finished a late study session with two Ravenclaw second years when she caught sight of Bex Malfoy near the library doors. Bex wasn’t looking at her. Instead she was facing the notice board, pretending to read a flyer for Hogsmeade weekend/
The first years she was tutoring packed their things up quietly and whispered goodbye to Hermione. She mumbled back a goodbye as she watched Bex put the flyer neatly back in place on the board. Their eyes met for just a second and Bex looked away first. Hermione frowned and unease settled in her stomach. She shook it off and headed to the Great Hall for lunch.
Hermione found herself distracted during lunch. Her fork paused mid-air as her attention repeatedly drifted toward the Slytherin table. Bex sat beside Draco, her posture perfect, she barely touched her food, barely spoke.
“You’re staring again,” Ron muttered.
“I’m not.” Hermione looked back to her plate and poked at her food.
Harry glanced over at her, his eyebrows raised in confusion, “It’s Malfoy, isn’t it?”
Hermione didn’t answer him.
After lunch Bex went to her dormitory and sat at her desk with the parchment from Carrow spread before her. She stared at it, candlelight flickering against her pale face. She put her quill to the parchment and began writing again.
Notices minor inconsistencies in student work, uses them to encourage improvement
Walks deliberately through corridors, aware of potential interference
Reacts calmly to minor provocations from peers, shows restraint
She stopped, her quill hovering for a moment and she whispered to herself, “I’m doing what I’m supposed to do.”
Then she carefully folded the parchment, slid it into the envelope, and went to her window. She put the envelope in her owl's claws and told him to take it to Carrow. As she watched her owl fly away the tightness in her chest loosened just a little. Not from relief, but from the act of completing the task.
She sat back down in her chair and leaned back, staring at the flickering candle, feeling the strange calm of having done exactly what Carrow wanted, and only that.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
Draco had woken up in a cold sweat after a nightmare, just like Bex had, when he asked if she could keep him company. She didn’t know exactly what his nightmare was about. But she didn’t need to. She could tell by his face and shaking hands.
She had followed him into the boys dormitory bathroom without a word.
Now, she sat on the floor behind him while he knelt over a toilet, one hand braced against it, the other pressed tight to his stomach.
The sound of him being sick echoed loud in the bathroom.
When he finished, he stayed hunched over for a while, head bowed, hair falling over his forehead.
When he finally pushed himself up, he rinsed his mouth at the sink and caught her eyes in the mirror. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“I never do.”
Draco forced a dry laugh as Bex reached for his shoulder, hesitated, then lowered her hand.
“Get some sleep.” she said softly.
He nodded, but they both knew he wouldn't. Neither would she.
The next afternoon, Bex skipped lunch. Instead she stood hidden near the back shelves of the library between old Herbology manuals and stacks of spell books no one checked out anymore.
Through the gaps in the shelves, she watched Hermione.
Hermione was sitting on the floor in the study area, surrounded by three tiny first years. One girl kept raising her hand, even though Hermione had told her twice that she didn’t need to.
Hermione smiled at her anyway.
She spoke softly but firm, her voice carrying just enough for Bex to catch bits of it. Directions about incantation pronunciation, wand movement, and safety tips. The first years scribbled everything down.
She leaned over to correct a boy’s messy note, her hair falling over her shoulder. She tucked it back without missing a word.
Bex shifted her weight, her shoulder brushing the edge of the shelf.
She could have left. She should have. But she didn’t
How does she still smile like that? After everything. The hex, the looks in the corridors, the whispers, the way people stare at her.
Hermione sat there, cross legged on the floor, showing children how to trace wand motions. Smiling when they got it wrong, encouraging them when they stumbled over words.
Bex’s fingers dug into the edge of the shelf. She didn’t feel angry. Not exactly. She didn’t know what this feeling was.
Envy, maybe.
All she knew was that it was something sharp that settled in her gut when she thought about how Hermione got to be good. How she got to be trusted by people who didn’t know her yet.
One of the first years raised his hand.
Hermione looked at him, patient. “Yes Oscar?”
Oscar whispered something Bex couldn’t hear and Hermione laughed, “No, Oscar. I promise you Leviosa won’t make your bed explode.”
Bex turned away then, unable to watch any longer. She slipped deeper into the stacks, weaving through rows until she found herself in the back corner near the Restricted Section door.
She sat down on the cold floor, pulled her knees up to her chest, and pressed her forehead against them.
She wondered if she would ever get to be good like that. If she would ever be trusted to help, instead of just watching. If the ache in her hand would ever stop reminding her of who she was supposed to be.
An hour later she heard footsteps. She didn’t lift her head at first. But then a voice said, “This is the last place I’d expect to find you.”
She looked up. Theodore Nott leaned against a shelf, arms crossed. “Spying again, Malfoy?” he asked.
Bex didn’t answer. Theo clicked his tongue. “People are starting to wonder about you. Watching Granger. Hiding back here. Maybe you’re losing your touch.”
“Get lost, Nott.”
Theo pushed himself off the shelf and stepped closer. “Better be careful. One day you’ll slip up for real. Then what would dear Bellatrix do?”
Bex’s eyes snapped to his.
He turned to leave pausing just long enough to say, “Better you than me.”
When he was gone, Bex stayed where she was for a long time. She didn’t leave until the library lights went out and everyone left.
The castle was quieter now that dinner was starting. Students trickled into the Great Hall in groups talking about homework and Quidditch. Normal things. Things that Bex could barely remember caring about.
She didn’t go into the Great Hall. Instead she went up the staircase.
She stopped outside the Potions classroom. It was empty but she stepped inside anyway. She crossed to the first worktable and sat down on the stool Hermione usually sat in.
Bex laid her hands on the table, palms down. Her left one throbbed. It always did. She remembered the way Hermione’s hands had moved earlier. Steady, as she guided a tiny first year through a simple levitation charm.
Bex flexed her fingers, the faint pull of the scar tissue reminded her what her own lessons looked like. What her aunt had taught her.
She stayed like that for a while. Just sitting at Hermione’s desk, pretending for a moment that her hands were capable of something good.
When she finally went back to the Slytherin common room she saw Draco alone near the fire. One leg bouncing restlessly, eyes half shut. He looked up when she stepped in.
“You didn’t eat,” he said.
“Neither did you.”
He let out a dry laugh, “Mother would hate that.”
Bex leaned against the wall near him, arms folded, and hummed an agreement.
Draco rubbed a hand over his face. “They’re watching you closer now, you know.”
“I know.”
“You’re not hiding it well enough.”
Bex let her head fall back against the stone wall. “Not hiding what?”
“Watching her.”
Bex didn’t answer.
Draco’s leg bounced again. He picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of his uniform. “You can’t protect her.”
“I’m not trying to.”
He looked at her, “Then what are you doing?”
She wished she knew.
Bex sat cross legged on her bed later that night. Her parchment open in front of her.
She wrote one sentence.
Tutors first years.
She stared at it before adding another line.
Not afraid.
Sleep wouldn’t come for her that night. It hadn’t for weeks.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
TW: This chapter has descriptions of violence/torture, Flashback Chapter
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
The greenhouse at Malfoy Manor used to be quiet. It was where Narcissa would bring Bex tea and read with her, where the peacocks sometimes wandered near the glass, and where Bex and Draco had played when they were young.
Now it stank of rot.
The glass panes were fogged and ferns wilted in the corners. No one had tended to the place in weeks.
Bellatrix stood near the center. Her sleeves rolled up and her wand in hand, a twisted smile on her face.
Bex knelt across from her, breathing hard.
The dirt on the floor was streaked with blood. She thought it was her own, but she wasn’t really sure anymore.
“You’re favoring the left again,” Bellatrix said, pacing slowly. “If you want to survive you need to learn how to use both hands.”
“I can’t grip properly with the right.” Bex replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Bellatrix stopped in front of her, eyes narrowing as she crouched down.
“You will learn.”
Bex didn’t flinch. She had learned not to. Bellatrix hated flinching. She said it showed resistance and resistance was something that needed to be carved out.
Bellatrix grabbed Bex’s left wrist suddenly, yanking it forward and slamming it flat against the stone step behind her. Before Bex could react, there was a sickening crunch and a sharp pain exploding through her hand.
A scream clawed up her throat but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to remain silent. Instead, her body jerked involuntarily, and her teeth sank into her bottom lip until blood filled her mouth.
Bex’s hand felt detached now, useless and wrong.
Bellatrix stood again, stepping over her like she was nothing. She turned, lifted her wand lazily, and pointed it back at Bex.
“I warned your mother, you know… That being soft with you would make you weak. But maybe I can fix that.”
Bex didn’t respond. Her vision blurred for a second and she blinked hard.
Bellatrix looked at her. “You’re very quiet today.”
“I’m thinking.” Bex choked out, voice hoarse.
Bellatrix grinned, “Good girls don’t think.” she said. “They bleed when told, and bite their tongues when they want to scream.”
Then her wand flicked through the air.
“Crucio.
Pain engulfed Bex’s chest, her legs, her spine. Every nerve was on fire. Her body arched against her will and she couldn’t breath.
It was worse than fire. Worse than the broken hand. Worse than anything.
She clawed her fingers into the dirt, the tips of her nails breaking but the pain was nothing compared to the curse.
When the curse lifted Bex collapsed, her cheek pressing into the dirt. She could hear her own heartbeat thudding in her ears. She wanted to throw up. Or cry. Or both.
But she didn’t.
Bellatrix walked closer again and nudged her with the tip of her boot. “I told your mother you were stubborn. But maybe you will be strong enough after all.”
Bex didn’t move. She wasn’t sure that she could.
Bellatrix crouched again and gripped her chin, yanking her head up until their eyes met.
“You will remember this when the time comes. When you’re asked to do something awful. You will remember that it is better to feel this,” she dug her nails into Bex’s jaw, “than to disappoint him.”
Bex didn’t speak as Bellatrix dropped her face back into the dirt.
“Rest while you can. And don’t you dare fix that hand of yours. Otherwise I will have to break it again.” She said, rising.
She left the greenhouse without another word, slamming the door shut behind her.
Later, Draco found her there.
He stepped in quietly, his eyes landing on her.
“Which spell was it?” he asked, crouching beside her.
“Crucio.”
He didn’t ask how long he could tell.
He looked down at her hand. Purple and swollen. It was still bent wrong. “Broken?”
“She did it herself.”
Draco said nothing. He just reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial.
“Calming Draught…drink it,” he urged.
Bex opened one eye, a flicker of amusement breaking through her pain. “Did you steal from Father’s cabinet again?”
“I borrowed.” he smirked.
He tilted it toward her. She took it with her good hand and downed the contents. The pain didn’t go away but her breathing slowed and her vision cleared.
“She said I'm not allowed to fix my hand.”
Draco nodded slowly.
“She said I was weak.”
“You’re not weak,” he said. His voice didn’t shake but he looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes. She wondered when he last had a training session with Bellatrix.
“I want to go back to when we were kids,” Bex whispered.
“I do too.” Draco murmured.
They sat in silence after that.
They didn’t speak about it the next morning.
Breakfast at the manor was always quiet nowadays. Lucius read the Prophet without looking up, while Narcissa poured tea with steady hands and perfect posture. Her eyes flickered toward her daughter's wrapped hand only briefly. She said nothing.
Draco didn’t touch his eggs, and Bex didn’t touch anything.
“Drink your tea darling.” Narcissa said softly.
Bex obeyed. The porcelain cup trembled slightly in her bandaged fingers.
A few days later they returned to the greenhouse.
Bellatrix didn’t talk this time. She was already casting curses before they stepped fully inside. Sometimes they would hit Draco. Sometimes Bex. Sometimes both.
They never screamed.
They learned to channel their pain to silence.
By the end of the week, Bex could cast a shielding spell with her non-dominant hand without shaking, and she could take a hex to the chest and stay standing.
She didn’t remember the last time she cried.
The next night Bex sat alone in the library.
Her right hand ached from overuse. And her left ached from healing wrong.
She didn’t care.
In front of her was a single piece of parchment. She began writing.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
Bex walked behind Draco and Blaise on the way to Defence against the Dark Arts the next morning. Pansy trailed behind them loud as ever, complaining about the new essay requirements and how Professor Flitwick clearly favored Gryffindors.
“Granger probably charmed his quill to give her perfect marks,” Pansy muttered.
“More likely she just actually did the work,” Blaise replied without looking back.
Pansy rolled her eyes. “You’re such a bore, Zabini.”
Ahead of them, Hermione Granger stepped out of a nearby corridor, carrying a thick stack of books.
Pansy’s expression changed.
“I’m sick of her.”
“Don’t.” Draco muttered without turning. “She’s not worth it.”
But Pansy was already moving., her wand gripped tightly in her hand.
Bex could see the tension in Pansy’s shoulders and the way her fingers twitched.
Hermione didn’t even see it coming.
“Confundo!” The spell hit Hermione in the back. She staggered forward, the books in her arms flying from her grip and scattering across the floor. Hermione blinked rapidly, her hand reaching out trying to catch herself against the wall as her legs trembled.
Bex could hear Pansy’s high pitched laughter as Hermione’s wand fell to the ground.
Bex stopped walking. Just for a second.
Hermione knelt down to collect her books. Her hands were shaking and she moved slower than usual.
Bex forced herself to keep walking. But she looked back.
Hermione’s eyes found hers, they were full of anger.
She turned away again.
“Class is going to start,” She said quietly to Draco.
He looked at her sideways, “You didn’t stop her.”
“Granger told me to stay away.”
They arrived at the Defense classroom. Bex sat down quietly next to Draco and tried to focus on her notes.
Snape walked in without looking at the class. He stopped in front of the blackboard, turned, and scanned the room.
Then his eyes landed on her.
“Miss Malfoy,” Snape said. “Stay behind after class.”
Several students turned to glance her way and Draco shot her a brief look.
Bex said nothing, just nodded once.
When the rest of the class emptied, Snape didn’t speak right away. He paced around the front, then he closed the door with a flick of his wand and turned to her.
“You saw what happened this morning.”
Bex met his gaze, “Yes.”
“And you did nothing?”
Bex nodded once, her throat going dry.
Snape stepped closer. “I know about your task. You have been ordered to observe Granger, not harm her.”
“I didn’t harm her.”
“No, but you allowed harm.”
He circled behind her, stopping just out of her line of sight.
“The Dark Lord’s orders are clear. She is to be watched and not harmed. That means you must protect her if needed.” He paused. “If anything happens to her before He decides…” He didn’t finish.
“I didn’t know Pansy would hex her.”
Snape’s voice dropped. “You didn’t need to know. You needed to anticipate what was going to happen.”
Bex stared down at the floor.
“You are expected to be sharper than the rest of them. That is why you were chosen.”
Chosen.
She almost laughed, the irony bitter in her throat.
Snape tilted his head. “You have been slipping.”
“I’m just doing what they asked.”
Snape’s voice was softer, but not gentle. “No, you have been getting too close. Step back. Or you may find yourself incapable of stepping away when it matters.”
“I’m not weak, Professor. If that is what you are implying”
Snape shook his head, “I don’t care what your feelings are, Malfoy. But if they compromise your task again, they will be corrected. Do you understand me? ”
Bex nodded once, her jaw tight. She turned around and headed for the door., slipping through and shutting it softly behind her.
The corridors were crowded by then. She made it halfway down the hall before she turned into an empty stairwell and leaned against the wall, her stomach twisting and heat flushing across her face.
Bex pressed her palms to her face and exhaled through her fingers. She felt hollow again. Just like before. Just like always.
Hermione hadn’t gone to dinner. She sat in the Gryffindor common room instead. Her legs curled under her on a red velvet armchair by the fire, a damp cloth pressed against her temple.
Ron had offered to hex Pansy in retaliation, and Harry had tried to convince her to tell someone. But Hermione didn’t want justice. Not really.
By midnight, Bex was in her dorm again, curled sideways on the mattress. The parchment for her report spread across the blanket.
She stared at the blank space. Everything she could write felt wrong.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed Hermione’s movements. She had. She always sat near the front, she checked her parchment three times before handing it in, she tapped her quill when she was thinking, and she touched her wand to her lip when she was focused.
There was so much she had noticed. But none of it was what she needed.
The next morning, Hermione found herself outside the hospital wing without meaning to.
Hermione had gone to class, but the effects of the hex had lingered. A dull ache behind her eyes. A bit of vertigo if she turned her head too fast.
Bex stood at the edge of the corridor, just out of sight. She listened to the murmur of voices within. She could hear Pomfry giving instructions. A few vials clinking together.
Then Hermione’s voice, tired but firm. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
Liar.
Bex clenched her fists. She shouldn’t be here. She didn’t know what she was doing.
Eventually, she walked away.
That night, Hermione opened her copy of Magical Theory: Intermediate Spellwork and found a folded scrap of parchment tucked between the pages.
No name.
Just a single line:
I should have stopped her.
Hermione stared at it for a long time.
Then she tucked it away in her bag and didn’t tell anyone.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this to my AO3
The library was unusually quiet for a Friday evening. Even Madam Pince seemed less inclined to stalk the aisles with her usual ferocity.
Bex sat in the corner furthest from the Restricted Section, a book of defensive runes open in front of her. Her posture was perfect, still and composed. Her gaze however was straying.
Hermione sat at the table closest to the central aisle, surrounded by towering stacks of books that leaned around her. Her hair was pinned back in a loose braid and her expression was focused. The tip of her quill moved quickly as she scribbled notes into the margins of Hogwarts: A History.
Bex looked at Hermione for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be doing this.
But she was.
And that made her throat feel like it was lined with glass.
Hermione looked up. Their eyes locked from across the rows of books. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Hermione stood up.
Bex exhaled slowly and looked down, pretending to return to her reading. But it was too late.
Hermione stalked across the room. She stopped directly in front of Bex’s table and planted both palms down on the wood.
“You’re watching me,” Hermione accused.
Bex looked up at her, expression blank. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t,” she snapped. “Not with you anyway.”
Bex closed the book in front of her slowly. “You’re paranoid.”
“You’re obvious,” Hermione shot back. “Every time I move, you’re there. Hallways. Class. Now here.”
“And what exactly do you think that means?”
“I don’t think,” Hermione hissed. “I know.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” Bex said.
Hermione gave a humorless laugh. “I know enough. You hide behind the books and your silence. You treat people like puzzles to be solved. Or worse, like threats to be contained.”
Bex stood then, her voice low and steady. “I’m not hiding.”
“No,” Hermione whispered, “you’re obeying whatever orders your parents have given you.”
That struck harder than Bex wanted it to.
“You’re a coward, Malfoy,” Hermione went on, her voice slowly rising. “You think looking at me from behind a bookcase means you have control? You don’t. You’re just following orders, whatever twisted ones they have given you.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bex snapped.
“Don’t I? You really think it would take me long to figure it out?”
Bex’s fingers curled at her sides, nails pressing into her palms. Don’t react. But the pressure and hatred burning in Hermione’s eyes made her want to scream, so she bit down on her tongue.
“You don’t know what it’s like to have no choice,” Bex said, her voice harsh and low.
Hermione tilted her head, curls falling loose against her shoulder.
“There’s always a choice.”
“You say that like you’ve ever been told what you are before you could choose.” Bex snapped.
Hermione’s voice dropped, but her words hit harder for it. “You called me mudblood.”
Bex’s throat tightened at the word.
“You said you knew what I was because of that. Because of my blood, so don’t you sit here now and talk about not being able to choose.”
Bex flinched, just slightly. Not enough for most people to notice.
But Hermione did.
“You looked me in the eye and decided I was less,” Hermione added. “
decided. Not your brother, not your father. You.”
Bex swallowed hard. “I did what I had to.”
“No,” Hermione snapped, stepping forward, her eyes burning. “You did what you wanted. And now you are trying to rewrite it.”
Hermione shook her head slowly. “You don’t get to pity yourself, Malfoy. Not after branding people like me as less than human.”
Bex looked down. “You’re right.”
The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Hermione stared at her, unsure of how to respond. “Stay away from me,” she spat after a moment.
Bex didn’t argue. She just stood up, gathered her book and left the library with quiet steps.
She walked without knowing where she was going.
The corridors were mostly empty this late in the evening, lit only by the occasional torch and the cold moonlight. Her shoes echoed against the stone, the sound too loud in her ears.
You’re right.
The words wouldn’t stop repeating in her mind. She hadn’t meant to say them. But Hermione had looked at her like she knew who she really was. The coward. The liar. The obedient daughter.
And for the first time, Bex hadn’t had a defense.
She turned down an abandoned hallway and leaned against the wall, eyes shut, breath trembling.
What had she expected? That Hermione would understand? That she would hear the cracks in her voice and fill them with compassion?
Foolish.
She pulled off her gloves slowly, wincing as the leather stuck to the old scars. Her palms throbbed in the cool air.
Good girls don’t think. Bellatrix had whispered once. They bleed when told, and bite their tongues when they want to scream.
Bex had learned. So she bit her tongue until she tasted blood for the second time that night.
Hermione didn’t go back to her books after Bex left.
She just stood there, chest rising and falling too quickly, her knuckles white against the edge of the table.
She had wanted to fight. She expected another cold, clever retort from the Malfoy twin.
But that hadn’t been what she got.
She got a, you’re right.
And somehow it felt worse.
Hermione didn’t want to feel sorry for Bex Malfoy. She didn’t want to imagine what scars lay beneath her robes.
Because if she let herself think about that… if she let herself believe that maybe Bex didn’t want any of this…
It complicated things.
And Hermione needed things simple right now. She needed her enemies to stay enemies.
She sat down heavily, running a hand over face.
Hours later, in the dark quiet of the Slytherin dormitory, Bex sat on the edge of her bed, gloves clutched in one hand, the parchment Alecto had given her spread out on the blankets.
It was mostly blank except for the name at the top.
There were no habits, no locations, no analysis of movement. Nothing worth reporting.
She picked up her quill.
She wrote a single line beneath the name.
Sees too much.
Then she folded the parchment, set it aside, and layed back on the mattress, staring at the canopy above her.
Pairing: deatheater!malfoy!femOC x HermioneGranger
Warnings for the Entire Fic: cursing (only a couple times the entire fic), implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced torture, psychological torture, graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers
Summary:
People whispered for years about the Malfoy girl who killed the headmaster, then took a curse for the girl who hated her. They never told it right. But Hermione remembered.
---------
When Draco Malfoy's twin sister returns to Hogwarts for seventh year, she's cold and quiet. Hermione doesn't trust her and doesn't want to. But nothing at Hogwarts is the same anymore. Dark things are happening and the war outside the castle is getting closer every day.
Word Count of Entire Fic: ~51,038 words
A/N: I originally posted this my AO3
The next day the chalk clicked against the blackboard as Professor McGonagall began her lecture. The Transfiguration classroom was quiet as the students copied notes on the complexities of human-to-object transfiguration spells.
Bex sat near the back, her quill moving against the parchment. Each letter was sharp and rigid. Her handwriting used to be elegant, she swears that it had, even if she couldn’t really remember.
A paper bird flew through the open window and landed neatly on the edge of her desk. Her fingers froze as she looked at it. She opened it carefully.
Report to the Room of Requirement. Midnight.
There was no signature, just those seven words.
Bex folded the note back into the shape of a bird and with a flick of her wand reduced it to ash.
The Room of Requirement didn’t appear unless it was needed but ut tonight it appeared before she even reached the end of the seventh-floor corridor. The wall shimmered and split open with a hiss.
Inside the room had transformed. The cozy mismatched furnishings and the cluttered stacks of forgotten magical artifacts had disappeared. Instead the room was just empty stone. Cold and humid with a single iron sconce burning in one corner.
Someone waited inside, back half turned. Alecto Carrow.
Bex stepped in silently. The door sealed itself behind her with a soft thunk. It was a sound that reminded her of the manor.
Carrow turned to face her. “Malfoy,” she drawled. “Thought you might not come.”
Bex didn’t answer. She never had much to say to Carrow. She has never trusted the way the woman looked at her.
“You're growing into your mark well,” Alecto said, circling slowly. “I hear you’re being quiet. Unremarkable. Some of your professors even forgot you were in class last week.”
Bex nodded slowly.
“Good,” Alecto said, stopping just in front of her. “That’s what we want. Obedience in silence. The Dark Lord values that more than pride.” She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a note.
“You’ve got a task. Light, for now. You are to watch Granger.”
Bex’s gaze looked up, just slightly.
“She’s…. Loud,” Carrow added. “Suspicious. Far too clever for her own good.”
“She’s always been that way,” Bex said quietly.
Alecto smirked. “Yes I suppose she has, but now she is dangerous. And the Dark Lord wants her catalogued. Not touched, yet.”
Bex’s fingers curled at her sides. “And if I refuse?”
Alecto's smirk spread. “You won’t, you are your mother’s daughter after all.”
Bex stiffened but didn’t move. Her jaw worked once as the words filled her ears.
“Your mother obeyed. She did what she had to.” Alecto stepped closer, her sour breath misting over Bex’s face. “And when the time comes, you will do the same. Won’t you?”
Bex nodded once, barely.
“Good girl. Meet me here tomorrow night.”
Back in the common room the fire had gone out again, leaving the air cold.
Bex climbed into her bed, fully dressed beneath the blankets.
Granger.
She could still picture her from potions, furious, shaking, unafraid. Stupidly brave.
Bex hated her.
Catalogued. That was the word Carrow had used. As if Hermione Granger was nothing more than a file in a drawer.
She slipped her shaking hand beneath her pillow, closed her eyes and prayed sleep would take her soon.
The next day Hermione caught her staring from across the courtyard between classes. Bex meant for it to just be a glance, but it lingered too long.
Rain clung to the edges of Hermione’s curls as she laughed at something Ron had said, her bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, a book hugged tightly to her chest.
Then their eyes met.
The laughter stopped. Hermione stared, eyes narrowing, the crease between her brows deepening.
Bex looked away.
By the time Potions began, the room felt smaller than usual. Slughorn droned on about strengthening solutions, but Hermione’s eyes kept flicking sideways.
Bex could feel her eyes on her. It itched worse than her gloves.
She tried to keep her eyes on the cauldron and her hands steady as she ground beetle shells, but her stomach kept twisting.
. That’s all, like it was nothing.
Hermione’s quill scratched furiously beside her.
“You’re staring again,” Hermione said without looking up.
“Am I?” Bex replied, forcing a casual tone.
“Yes.”
Bex measured out powdered fluxweed and dropped it into the cauldron. The brew hissed.
Slughorn’s voice called from behind them, something about stirring patterns, but it didn’t make it past Bex’s ears.
Hermione looked at her. “I have seen that look before. From people who think they can take what they want just because they have been told they can... your brother has that look.”
Bex’s heart thudded hard. “You’re wrong.” She said.
“Am I?”
Before Bex could speak Slughorn clapped his hands from beside them, “Excellent, excellent! Perfect consistency from Granger and Miss Malfoy once again!”
Students began packing up when Slughorn announced class had ended. Hermione stood first, gathering her things.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” she said under her breath, “but I will find out.”
With that, she walked away. Bex sat still for a moment, her gloved hands tucked tightly into her sleeves, skin burning under the fabric. She took a breath and packed up her things.
That night, she returned to the Room of Requirement. Alecto was there again, a roll of parchment in her hand.
“Write everything you see,” she said. “Habits, routes, associations, we want patterns.”
“I’m not a spy,” Bex said quietly, her heart racing.
“You are now,” Alecto replied, stepping closer. “You will do as I ask because obedience is what keeps your family safe.”
Bex looked down and slowly took the parchment. “And me?”
Alecto smiled thinly. “You don’t get safety, sweetheart. You get purpose.”
Back in her dormitory, Bex sat in the dark, the parchment on her lap still blank. She didn’t pick up her quill. She just stared at the name she wrote across the top in black ink.
