Chapter 43

[ IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR ]

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The minute she felt floor under her feet, her knees buckled and she felt them hit somewhat soft, spongy earth. There was a crunch of leaves, and her face was hit by the cool winter air as she took in her surroundings. They were standing in front of a pair of wrought-iron gates at the foot of what looked like a long drive, and in the dimming sunlight, Emily could spot the large, looming shadow of a mansion at the end of the driveway.

"Get up," hissed Greyback, and the hand that was still knotted in her hair pulled her up roughly, making Emily cry out as she tried to stand on her legs.

She could still feel her wand in her hand. She could try to fight him off, and part of her ached to hit him with every spell she could muster, but his hand was pulling on her hair so tightly she had no doubt he could snap her neck with one sudden movement, which he would certainly make if she tried to stun him. The minute they went inside, she had no doubt her wand would be taken from her.

Suddenly, the iron was contorting, twisting itself out of the abstract furls and coils into a frighten- ing face, which spoke in a clanging, echoing voice: "State your purpose!"

"Fenrir Greyback, I've captured an Order sympathizer," Greyback barked, and the gates swung opne.

"Come on!" said Greyback to his Emily, shunting her through the gates and up the drive by her hair. High hedges surrounded them, and a ghostly white shape appeared on the grass of the front lawn. When Emily realized what it was, her stomach sank.

"We have these ridiculous white peacocks at home. . ." Draco's voice echoed in her head, "Father inherited them from my grandfather and now we're stuck with them,"

She knew exactly where she was. Just before they arrived on the doorstep, Emily dropped her wand in the shrubbery as discreetly as she could. It disappeared amongst the leaves, and Emily made sure to cement the spot in her mind. She would be back for it. They arrived before a large, oak door with a doorknocker shaped like a serpent.

There was some noise behind the door, before a slit at the top opened, and a pair of eyes appeared in the doorway.

"What's this Greyback?" came a cold, feminine voice.

"I was ambushed by order members in Hogsmeade, could've even been Potter. This little bitch claims she knows nothing but they came blasting outta her backdoor,"

The door opened, and in the doorway stood the skinny figure of Narcissa Malfoy.

"And what do you expect we do with her?" she asked him haughtily, scrutinizing Emily's small frame, her eyes sliding to the hand knotted in her now-light blond hair.

"She must know something, so I suggest we make her talk,"

There was a beat of silence.

"Bring her in," she said curtly, and Emily could feel her body filling with dread as she was dragged into the entrance hall, lined with portraits.

"The hall is absolutely hideous, it has all the portraits of my old ancestors. . . They all look like they're judging you, all the time,"

They stepped into the drawing room, which was nothing short of enormous. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, more portraits against the dark purple walls.

"And the walls are this dark plum color, it's so grim, it feels like a funeral home sometimes,"

Two figures rose from chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as Emily was forced into the room by Greyback.

"What is this?"

The dreadfully familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on her ears.

She was trying hard not to panic as images of gruesome injuries flashed through her mind. 

"He's got an Order sympathizer," said Narcissa's cold voice. "He wants us to make her talk,"

"That so?" Lucius said quietly, "Can't he do it himself?"

"Bellatrix is better at that than me," Greyback growled.

"I don't know anything!" Emily exclaimed, and she made no effort to keep the terror out of her voice.

"She looks about Hogwarts age, doesn't she?" Narcissa asked, cocking her head, "Shouldn't she be at Hogwarts? Draco!"

A figure rose from an armchair in front of the un-lit fireplace, his face a pale and pointed blur beneath white-blond hair.

"I told you, I never went to Hogwarts!" Emily said, but Greyback pulled on her hair roughly, making her yelp.

"Shut up, you," he placed Emily directly beneath the chandelier. "Know her?"

Emily was facing a mirror over the fireplace, a great gilded thing in an intricately scrolled frame, and she saw her own reflection for the first time since leaving Glover's end.

Her hair was a long, honey blond, and she had bangs and a rounder face. Her nose had lost its usual button shape, and was longer, more angular. She was shorter, too, several feet below her usual height, and where her body usually curved at her hips and breasts, her chest was much smaller and her waist went straight down. The one thing that remained unchanged about Emily was her eyes, which were their usual chestnut brown.

Draco advanced until he was standing right in front of her. They stared at each other for a moment, and he leaned in, his eyes looking straight into hers. She felt a momentary wave of panic that he would recognize her, but quickly expelled that thought from her mind.

"Well, boy?" rasped the werewolf, and Draco shook his head.

"I don't know who she is," he said, his voice coming out stronger than he looked.

The drawing room door opened behind Emily. A woman spoke, and the sound of the voice wound Emily's fear to an even higher pitch.

"What is this? What's happened, Cissy?"

Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly around Greyback and Emily, peering at the scene with keen interest.

"I've caught an Order sympathizer," Greyback's raspy voice said proudly, "Could even be a member,"

Emily began to struggle against him. "I'm not!" she cried out in pure fear, "I swear, I don't know who that was, I just run a bakery,"

"Memory's gone foggy, has it?" Bellatrix leered, getting in her face so Emily could see just how ugly she really was, "We all know we have the means to cure that,"

Greyback released his grip on her hair, and she was roughly shoved to her knees.

Bellatrix's hand came under her chin, squishing the bottom of her face as she forced to look at her.

"Such a sweet face," she tutted, her grip making Emily's jaw hurt, "We'll have her talking in no time,"

"Please," Emily said quietly, "I don't know. . .anything,"

Her pleading did nothing to stop Bellatrix from raising her wand and pointing it straight at her with a sneer.

"Crucio!"

The pain was beyond anything Emily had ever experienced. It was so intense, so all-consuming, that she no longer knew where he was . . . white-hot knives were piercing every inch of her skin, her head felt like it would explode with pain; her scream pierced through the drawing room, louder than she had ever screamed in her life. Her body twisted, writhed on the cold wooden floor as the pain consumed every inch of her, and her mind flashed with images.

She saw her father, their hug this morning, Violetta's smiling face, felt Kate's laughter ringing through her brain. And she saw Harry. . . he was smiling that smile she loved so much, peering at her with his eyes, which seemed more breathtakingly green than usual.

All at once, it subsided, and Emily opened her eyes. Anger swelled inside her, fueled by the pain she had just experienced, and even Bellatrix was taken aback by the rage in her eyes as she regarded her.

"I don't know anything," she gritted through her teeth.

"Feeling brave, are we?" the older woman hissed, "We'll see about that,"

Emily took a deep breath, and her voice came out low, threatening. "Go to hell,"

"Don't worry, lovely," she said, with sinister jubilation, "When we're done you're going to wish you had gone there with me,"

Emily had lost track of the days. She could barely remember what time of day it was as she lay on the floor, in a dark corner of the drawing room at Malfoy Manor. Her mind was slow, sluggish, and she spent most of her waking moments in a daze, staring through her slitted eyes at the bright lights of the chandelier above her.

She didn't register the sounds around her, or the dull ache coming from her arm. She didn't need to look at it to know what was there. She remembered it well enough; three days ago (or was it two?) Bellatrix had carved the dark mark into her skin with a dagger. She remembered the pain, the feeling of the blade sinking into her skin, the warm blood trickling down her arm. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried desperately to shut out the memories.

Her right eye felt swollen and was tender when she squeezed her lids shut; last night, it had been the butt of the poker they used to tend to the fire. And this morning, her head had thumped against the corner of the drawing room table as she had fallen after Bellatrix had cursed her for what had felt like the 100th time. When she had touched it, her hand had returned the crimson color of her blood.

There were smaller injuries too, Emily didn't doubt they covered her entire body. Cuts, bruises, scratches. . . she had lost count. The only comfort Emily could find was that she had been able to take another sip of the vial of Polyjuice she had taken from the house when nobody had been paying attention to her. Thankfully, this one had been specifically brewed to last 48 hours.

"Has it not been enough days? She hasn't said a single word, Bella,"

She caught snippets of the conversation that was happening in front of the fireplace.

"She's a sympathizer,"

"She clearly has no clue, Bella. At this point she's nothing but your entertainment, and the screaming is starting to give me migraines,"

There was a beat of silence.

"Fine, then get rid of her,"

"You're the one who's beaten her to a pulp, you get rid of her,"

There was a frustrated breath, "Draco!"

"Absolutely no–"

"Don't you want the boy to learn, Cissy?"

Another silence.

"Draco, come here,"

There was some shuffling, and then Emily heard Draco's unmistakable voice. "Yes?"

"Get rid of. . . that,"

"Get ri– You want me to kill her," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"Did I stutter?"

There was another beat of silence. Emily wanted to move, to scream at the top of her voice at Draco to help her, but she knew he had no idea who she was. She didn't even know whether or not he'd kill her if he did know.

"Where?"

"Bury her behind the house like the rest when you're done,"

Footsteps approached her, and suddenly someone was grabbing her under the armpits, dragging her across the floor.

"No," Emily whispered, "Please, just let me go,"

"Shut up," barked Bellatrix.

Emily didn't have the strength to fight it, instead, her non-swollen eye opened, and she grabbed Draco by the arm.

"Draco," she said desperately, "Please,"

Shocked by her sudden strength and sign of life, Draco almost let go of her. "Be quiet,"

His voice was meant to sound harsh and commandeering, but it shook with the same fear she had heard in it in their 6th year. Bellatrix and Narcissa watched as Draco hoisted Emily up and over his shoulder.

Desperate to let Draco know who he had been ordered to kill, but anxious not to give herself away to the others, Emily started to laugh. It was a small chuckle at first, and there was a moment of stunned silence in the drawing room.

"Who picked such a grim color for these walls?" she hiccuped, trying her best to sound delirious, her hand weakly gesturing towards the dark purple painted walls of the drawing, "Looks like a bloody funeral in here,"

She began to laugh loudly, hysterically.

Bellatrix gave a sudden wave of her wand, and Emily felt her mouth clamp shut. She tried to pry it open again, to no avail.

"Go, Draco," she hissed at her nephew, and Emily could do nothing as they exited the drawing room and stepped into the hall. She could only see the floor as they wove through the house, until she heard the distinct sound of a creaking door and the cold air hit her bare feet. It was already dark out, and she had to squint to see anything.

The area behind the house was a small patch of knee-high grass bordering the surrounding woods, and as they walked further, she spotted small rectangular plots around them covered with what looked like freshly upturned earth.

Emily started to panic in earnest, and her legs began kicking vigorously. Her mouth was still clamped shut by the spell, so she used her fists to hit Draco on the back.

He struggled to keep a hold of her, and instead threw her down on the grass. She landed with a thump, and the pain in her ribs and arm took her breath away for a second, and she had to close her eyes to stop the spots appearing in front of her eyes. With a last ounce of strength, she opened her eyes and clambered to her feet, turning to see Draco standing a couple of feet away, wand drawn.

"Don't move," he said, his voice trembling worse than before. Emily's stomach sank with pure terror. 

Their eyes met, and as she noticed his were filled with fear and glistening with tears. She pleaded desperately with him in silence.

It's me, Draco, please. It's Emily. I'm your friend.

She had started to cry, tears streaming down her face.

This was it. She was going to die.

She thought of her friends and family and closed her eyes, trying to picture them before her.

i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you

"I'm sorry," came Draco's voice, and she heard him take a deep breath, steadying himself.

i love you, i love–

There was a flash of bright green light and then, nothing.