Chapter Text
Malfoy Manor was full of rooms and spaces even a long term inhabitant would never have to visit. There were quite a few luxurious bedrooms (all with king sized mattresses covered with egyptian cotton), bathrooms (slightly more modern, and.. swanky, additions) and all sorts of other lounge areas. Most of these rooms were barely used at all. Draco didn’t even think he’d managed to see all of the rooms yet. But, perhaps living in a house for generations relieves any curiosity you might have about it.
However, there was one space he’d always been interested in where he’d been absolutely forbidden to enter : the cellar.
For him, it seemed to be like a basement full of wonders he had no idea about. There must have been some reason why he’d never been permitted to look inside it, right? Some peculiar, life-changing reason. But, he was wrong.
The cellars of the Manor had been used over the past few centuries as places for the Malfoys to keep prisoners. Actual living beings. There were real reasons other than the possibility of a fun creature living behind the door that it had bars over the windows. He’d considered the possibility, sure, but he didn’t realise its severity until he saw the other Death Eaters bringing in people. People they didn’t want to keep in Azkaban for some reason, but people they wanted to starve and torture right here.
It had been traumatic enough, really, having so many Death Eaters living in his house as the Dark Lord’s influence slowly grew stronger. Watching Professor Burbage’s death had only been the beginning of what was to come. Every day he stayed at his home, he’d be ordered to torture people the Dark Lord suspected or was simply disappointed. Performing the Cruciatus curse hadn’t seemed all that bad in theory, but watching a grown man who could normally hold his own contort and scream in pain that you were causing to them was another level of horrifying.
Draco had hoped to have escape it at Hogwarts, but, alas, the coming of the Carrows had been absolutely as awful as he’d anticipated. He had thought torturing grown adults was agony, but they’d seemed to make torturing students some kind of competition. Defense Against The Dark Arts classes were total nightmares and while practice with Aunt Bella had made him somewhat adept with the Unforgivable Curses, he could barely hold himself up when he heard the students around him screaming.
After he’d seen Amycus torture a muggle-born first year, it was as if the sight would haunt him forever. He’d thought his task for sixth year was difficult, but this year had turned out to be much harder than he’d ever imagined.
Not to mention, the guilt that started seeping into him over the course of the year. He’d begun to realise that his hatred towards the muggles and the muggle-borns around him had been.. biased. Perhaps even slightly bigoted. He knew he had no right to complain about what was going on in the castle, it was sort of his fault to begin with, and that just drove him further down that hole.
He’d begun to stay up most nights, trying his best to stay away from the dreams that had become a part of his life. Of watching those he loved hurt by the Dark Lord, seeing innocent children hurt.. simply for their blood status. Why had he supported and upheld such beliefs for so long? Now.. it was too late to change anything, it seemed.
But when he came back for his Winter holidays, life at the Manor was worse as ever.
It was even more bleak than it had been the year before. Not only was there a lack of grandeur or joy around the place, but he was also forced to continue to serve the Dark Lord. And, of course, not only that but the Death Eaters had begun to use their cellars to trap.. civilians. Not people they’d suspected of being in the Order of the Phoenix, not people who’d been actively badmouthing You-Know-Who, but just.. problem citizens. He’d known that they’d even plucked out Loony Lovegood from the Hogwarts Express during the holidays and kept her there because her father was being difficult about the stories published in The Quibbler.
But he was surprised to see even more people gathered around in the cellars the one time his aunt let him take gruel to the prisoners. There were so many old people (whom he assumed had provided safe houses for escaping Mudbloods) and even younger couples (who he suspected were cross-breeding, in the Death Eater’s eyes). There were even a few families in sight, young children gathered around in circles playing some sort of game. He seemed to recognise a small, ferrety looking man with his wife and children to be someone he’d seen in the Magical Maintenance department, but he couldn’t exactly be sure..
But what surprised him the most, and the least, at the same time, was that there were actual Hogwarts students down there, or.. ex-students, rather. There was no one he recognised to be in Dumbledore’s Army in the years prior, but people he assumed had been standing out of line. Or perhaps just people the Carrows or Snape had lost their patience for. He’d heard of a few incidents at school and had realised that the Death Eaters had forced the perpetrators out of Hogwarts, but he didn’t realise that they would truly kidnap them the way they had.
He couldn’t really understand what good it did to keep the innocents there the way they had. It didn’t make much sense at all. What good would it do to trap these people here and hurt them to pass the time? It’s not like they were doing anything but trying to save others, or attempting to escape from the Dark Lord’s wrath. It made him feel all the more guilty and powerless.
That was until, he decided he could take the slightest bit of action. He’d been sent to give them gruel again but felt guilt swirling in his stomach as he heard a child crying, asking when they could finally get home. He watched the child’s mother console him and was suddenly reminded of his family’s own current plight. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d pulled the child’s parents to the side and told them he’d help them get out. And soon enough, at an opportune moment when he felt no one was being too wary over the prisoners, he showed them the way out of the cellar and told them the way to the nearest town, the safest one he could think of.
There wasn’t exactly anyone keeping track of who or what went in and out of the cellar to begin with. It was just the goblin, Ollivander and the Lovegood girl his people seemed to remember, everyone else they’d pick and choose out of to torture when they were getting bored. So, he felt his actions were simply for the greater good. The Dark Lord wouldn’t need to worry about taking care of these folk then, would he? Or at least, that’s what he said he’d say if he was actually found out.
He tried and did this every few days over the holidays, sneaking out the people who seemed the most vulnerable at that point. All the prisoners noticed him taking the risk he was and acknowledged it, even acted politely towards him whenever he came into the dungeons. (Which he suspected was also a bit more to get into his good books.)
Soon enough, he returned to Hogwarts for another unpleasant term. Everything only seemed to be getting worse. Practically all the students who’d been suspected to be a part of ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ had gone into hiding. He’d noticed the clear Longbottom shaped hole in the classes they’d had together. He often wondered to himself whether there was any chance he’d been forced back to Malfoy Manor like so many others. He shuddered thinking about it, even though he’d never had so much as a positive thought towards the bloke up till that point.
His classes were clearly emptier. Many children didn’t return after the holidays, afraid of ending up like so many others who’d been tortured endlessly. Again, he wondered if this was a rumor the Carrows had spread after whisking off some of them to the Manor.
Before he knew it, it was time for Easter break. He returned to his ‘home’ quite reluctantly, afraid of what else was in store after each visit seemed to gradually get worser. He visited the cellar and it was as full as ever. There were clearly a lot more students there, most of them younger than him, looking frail and poorly.
He noticed only another student from the same year as him.. Y/N Y/L/N. Their paths had never really crossed much. They’d always had classes together here and there, but they’d only exchanged a couple of words. He didn’t know exactly what to say to her. He never remembered her being a part of the D.A. or anything like that. She wasn’t really close with Potter or his fellows either. He’d noted she’d stopped coming into class, but had assumed it was because her parents feared for her or something. He wasn’t exactly why she was here in the first place, but it’s not like he had time to stop and chat.
Even though he would have liked to help her out of the place, there always seemed to be somebody else who took precedence, be it an elderly couple who looked like they were about to take their last breaths, or a second year Hufflepuff who looked absolutely distraught.
A few days before he had to board the Express back to the castle, he decided to help out another student. After handing out another daily helping of gruel, he noticed a Gryffindor student who couldn’t have been much older than thirteen lying, curled up in a corner of the room, crying. He noticed Y/N beside him, trying her best to brighten his spirits, but he lay as he was, sobbing out.
He waved over to Y/L/N and had her shift away, going up to the child himself. Of course.. he wasn’t exactly one to console others, so he leaned down and patted him on his back until he finally became calmer. As soon as the coast was clear, he helped the boy up and led him out the cellar. He took him through the back door into the gardens, reaching the edge of the fence. He told him the directions to the nearest safe town and reassured him of his fate. He was just about to push him through when he felt a hand firmly grab hold of the back of his shirt.
“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” A rough, raspy voice called out, another hand gripping at his hair. Dolohov.. Draco’s back arched at this and his eyes began to water in pain.
“N-nothing… nothing at all.” He’d been caught red handed and he knew it. There was no way out of this.
“The Dark Lord will be so proud of one of his fools letting out our prisoners.” He recognised Yaxley’s voice.
“You-you can’t do anything to me! This is my house!” Draco managed out.
“Let’s see what your aunt has to say about that.” The hand pulled him further back and his glassy eyes locked with the men’s cold, unforgiving ones.
Before he knew it, they’d dragged him all the way back to the lounge, and were just about to begin roughing him up when finally, Bellatrix arrived.
“What are you doing to him?” She called out, strutting over to the scene. It wasn’t long before his own parents arrived, and soon the rest of the Lord’s army.
“He’s been betraying us! As good as a blood traitor he is.” Yaxley responded, balling his hands into fists as he glared down at the boy.
“It wasn’t-”
“He was.. betraying the Dark Lord?” Bellatrix interrupted Draco, not even meeting his gaze. He looked over at his parents, but they just looked shocked at the scene playing out in front of them.
Dolohov kicked Draco in the side and he whimpered in pain, reaching down to clutch at where he was sure a bruise would begin to form.
“He was helping prisoners out of the cellar!”
Bellatrix’s eyes widened and she quickly grabbed ahold of him. “How could you? You insolent brat! You’ve let down the Lord already!”
Draco’s lower lip began to wobble as he began contemplating what lay ahead of him. He really shouldn’t have risked it to save all those people..
She slapped him across the face, her long, sharp nails like claws against his skin. He fell to the ground, already growing weak.
“Take his wand and throw him in the cellar with the others. His fate will be decided on later.”
One of the men carried him off to the cellar entrance and flung him inside, grabbing his wand from his pocket. “It’s what you deserve! To live like them!” Draco fell to the ground with a thud as the door slammed. Draco began to come up with a retort. “You’ll-You’ll all pay-” He felt a striking pain in his shoulder as he landed on it, then slowly sat up again, gulping and gripping it to somehow relieve himself of the tension he was feeling
But there was absolutely no way to.
He’d managed to screw up his family’s reputation worse than it was already with the Dark Lord and his followers. And this was.. like salt in their wounds. He’d been a bit taken aback over the fact that his parents hadn’t even tried to defend him up there. They’d always seemed to be there to take care of him but perhaps.. this time had really gone too far. He was simply the author of his own misfortune.
He suddenly realised that all of the prisoners were watching him. He looked up, silvery eyes flitting from side to side, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. “I.. I managed to help him out. He-he’ll make it. The Death Eaters didn’t get to him.” He reassured everyone, but some continued to look over at him. What was he supposed to say to them? Any hope they might have had was certainly diminished with him being tossed in here the way he had been. He just sighed and shifted off towards a corner, hugging his knees and setting his pointed chin on them.
He could feel fear filling him up to the brim. There was no end to the terrible implications him getting caught would have. Merlin could only hope they didn’t find out about all the others he’d helped out as well. He shut his eyes tightly and shuddered, soon beginning to feel tears well up in his eyes. He let them drip down his face, bringing his palms onto his cheeks to hide them from anyone who might be watching.
Suddenly, he heard the soft patter of steps near him. He swiped away the tears on his face and looked up. It was.. Y/L/N. What could she possibly have to say to him? He’d let her down by not helping her out of the place, goddammit, he’d let her down by bringing the Death Eaters into the castle the year before. He’d let everyone down! He sniffled slightly and forced himself to look up at her. Her face was.. clearly a bit sorrowful.
She was sporting a pink jumper and some blue jeans, all of which had since grown a bit dishevelled and had torn at places, leaving patches she couldn’t mend without her wand. Her face looked a bit more gaunt as well. She’d certainly not been able to eat well, what with, only the daily serving of a bowl of gruel to all of them. She must not have seen the sun in a while either, and of course, she must have been as stressed as any of the others, awaiting extreme pain at all times.
“Draco?” She asked, softly, and he realised he’d been staring straight at her for a second. “You-you were really brave. To help all the others the way you did, I mean.” She bit down on her lip and put her hands into her pockets, fiddling along. She was clearly a bit nervous in front of him, and he couldn’t exactly blame her.
He felt his ears heat up at her comment. Why was she being so kind to him? He’d done absolutely nothing for her thus far. Was she expecting him to make it out of this all healthy and help prisoners out of the place again? “Really. We’ll never forget what you did for the rest of them. And they’ll definitely never forget your sacrifice.” He took a deep breath before responding himself. A shaky “Thank you.” was all he could manage out.
She nodded at him slowly, then looked down at him curiously. She had to know he was likely awaiting for one of the Death Eaters to come down and call him up to be executed. “Are you alright?” She asked him, pressing her lips together. He just nodded and looked up at her, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. She gave him a weak smile and slowly turned to leave, deciding to give the boy his space.
Before he knew it, he felt tears trickling down his face again, wetting his trouser covered knees. He sniffled a bit loudly for his taste, bringing his hands up to hide his slowly reddening face. He was going to die. To die! How could he just accept it? His death would not only mean sorrow for his family, but likely despair for all the prisoners around him. All of whom were innocents who’d been caught trying to do something for the greater good. In that moment, he felt more fearful towards death than for anything else.
He heard the same patter of steps and felt a warm body crouch down in front of him.
“I-It’s clear you aren’t alright..” The same voice called out, so soft it was barely even a whisper.
“I’m just fine.” He managed out again, trying his absolute best to compartmentalise his thoughts. He’d been successful with it for Occlumency! Why couldn’t he do it when awaiting impending doom?
He heard her shift and sit down beside him, leaning up against the wall herself. She stared at his shaking figure for a few seconds before beginning to speak herself. “D’you.. want a hug?”
He was more alarmed at what she said than how she sat beside him. He looked up at her, tears still threatening to continue to spill. “What?” He croaked out. She couldn’t possibly have said that to him! He’s a Death Eater, for god’s sake. Regardless of what he’s done since.
“Would you like a hug?” She eyed him nervously, then looked down at her lap. “They’re scientifically proven to make you feel better.” Draco gulped down the lumps forming in his throat, slowly mustering up the courage to meet her own gaze. Her expression was surprisingly tender, almost pitiful towards him. He squinted at her before nodding politely. “O-only if you want to… you don’t have to.” He sniffled again, bringing his hands up to rub his wet eyes with his knuckles.
“I do want to. Don’t worry..” She reached over and set a hand on his shoulder, patting it gently. “I’d like it if you felt better.. and exchanging the slightest of body heat isn’t the worst sacrifice to give.” She smiled again and Draco managed a curt one himself. She shifted closer towards him and swallowed audibly herself. She gently placed her palms on his upper arms, and he slowly set his own round her waist. She brought her arms further upwards, around his neck.
He almost had to stop himself from continuing to shiver at first, but felt himself grow warmer at her touch. She shifted further towards him, bringing him into a tighter embrace, their chests pressed up together as she set her chin over his shoulder. He couldn’t even bring himself to remember the last time someone had hugged him, or the last time he’d felt his intimate with someone.
He could feel all the nerves that had had him all buzzed beginning to relax as she gently rubbed her hands on his back. She brought a hand onto the back of his neck and let her fingers toy gently with the ends of his hair. He could feel the original rigidity of his body give away, practically like putty in her warm, gentle arms. “Thank you.” He managed out again, although that same nervous lurch in his stomach hadn’t wavered.
He held onto her a little tighter, and thankfully, she didn’t seem to want to detach herself from him either. He clung to her as if for dear life, and felt the corners of his lips quirking up slightly as she brought her face into the crook of his neck. He gently set his head atop hers and took a deep, deep breath. He’d want to try and recreate the overwhelming sense of comfort this brought to him somehow later on. Y/N certainly wouldn’t want to do this kind of thing again after they were out of crisis.
He could feel his eyelids begin to droop, growing heavier and heavier with each breath. Had she cast a spell on him? On a normal day, the fear of certain death would give him anxiety to no end.. but somehow.. today, he wanted nothing but to continue holding the girl in his arms and that the higher powers above them would somehow realise their own faults with justice. He hoped and prayed to whatever was out there that the other prisoners would be able to make it out of the place unharmed, especially Y/N.
Suddenly, she shifted back slightly, beginning to draw her arms back. “P-please don’t go.” He managed out, holding onto her how a baby would to its mother. “Please.. I.. I’m s-so scared.” He stuttered uncharacteristically, the fear of losing her touch on him driving him jittery with fear again. She moved closer to him again, nodding. “I-I won’t..”
He sighed as he burrowed his head into the area between her neck and her shoulder this time, slight tears beginning to drip out of his eyes. “I don’t want to die.. I really don’t. It must.. must sound so greedy of me.. but I really don’t want to.. “ He felt his tears drip onto her skin and onto her clothing. She should have had some adverse reaction but she didn’t show it.
She brought her hand into his hair, stroking through it very softly. He sniffled yet again, his tongue beginning to feel heavy in his mouth. “It’s not greedy.. It really isn’t. No one here wants you to die, Draco. No one here wants you hurt at all.” She leaned over and pressed the lightest peck to the top of his pale blonde head. It was so soft Draco thought he’d imagined it. “You deserve better, Draco. You’ve.. saved so many people from here. Really. They’d all be beyond thankful to you.. after all this boils over.” If it does. He couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit skeptical.. why was she trying to be so goddamn nice? It made no sense.
“Thank you, Y/N.” He muttered out, under his breath. He forced his tears to slow down and held her closer, trying his best to remember what she felt like. If there would be some way to emulate it when he was past this realm of existence. She didn’t say another word, but continued to hold him as softly as she could. Y/N’s own soft breaths slowly lulled Draco to sleep, his usually horror-stricken dreams full of anticipation as to what truly awaited him when he woke up.