A/N: Returned from my hols and as promised, here is the update! It's good to be back, I missed you guys ❤️

*****

Draco

The second Bellatrix started dragging Hermione away into the middle of the room, Draco knew he had to do something.

He couldn't just stand by and watch his aunt torture her - he could endure a lot of things, but not this.

However, as he went to step towards her, a hand caught his wrist, halting him. He looked up into his mother's eyes and she very briefly shook her head, mouthing the word no.

Merlin, she knew, he realised. She knew that he, Draco Malfoy, was in love with a Muggle-born - so much so that he would even risk his own life to save her.

He obeyed his mother, though, like he had always obeyed her. He trusted her instinct more than he trusted his own, and if she said no, then there would be a good enough reason for it.

So, instead, he closed his eyes as the screaming started, only wishing he could too close his ears.

It was the worse sound he had ever heard, the screams slicing right through his soul and squeezing his heart. He would never un-hear them, he realised, they would forever haunt his dreams... unendingly litter his nightmares.

He tried to gulp in air but his lungs refused to work properly, her screams literally suffocating him. And he only realised he was shaking when his mother placed a hand lightly on his shoulder and it shook against her fingers.

I need to save her, he thought desperately, because if she dies, I die too.

And after what seemed like forever, the screaming finally stopped, and he dared open his eyes. He balked at the sight before him, fearful he might vomit.

For his aunt had carved into her arm, forever scaring her with the word he used to cruelly spit out to her through no reason other than ignorance and hatred.

Mudblood.

But he saw it now, saw how there was nothing dirty about her in the slightest, how beautiful both inside and out she really was.

Her head lolled to the side and suddenly her eyes were looking into his, and he'd never hated himself more for all the times he'd been cruel to her; would never forgive himself, and knew that she should not forgive him either.

With a look of a person who had given up on everything - including him - she closed her eyes.

No, he thought, his chest going horrifically tight. No, no, no. He had paid for his weakness - she had paid. He should have been braver, stepped up and taken a bullet for her, so to speak. But no, he had just stood by and watched like the coward he was.

"Take her to the side," Bellatrix drawled lazily to no one in particular, waving a dismissive hand as her heavily lidded eyes roamed the room, already in search of fresh prey. "And fetch me the goblin."

"Go," his mother hissed in his ear, nudging him towards Hermione as he stood frozen to the spot, "your father can attend to Griphook."

He didn't need telling twice, practically skidding across the room with his heart in his throat. The second he reached her, he bent down to her unconscious body, silently willing her not to be dead.

Relief flooded him when he saw at once the gentle rise and fall of her chest, telling him she was still breathing. Not wanting her to be in the firing line any longer, he scooped his arms beneath her armpits and hastily pulled her back towards the fireplace, her body sliding with ease across the shiny parquet flooring.

He positioned her safely behind the sofa, crouching over her, desperately trying to rouse her by gently tapping her face. She immediately stirred, softly whimpering in pain as her eyelids fluttered open, revealing her hazel eyes which he saw swam instantly with love as she focused on him.

"Draco-" she breathed, wincing as she tried to sit up.

He quickly indicated for her to be quiet by placing a finger against his lips. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled from it his very last vial of instant painkiller potion. No longer being able to make more at his own leisure, he had been saving the last drop for himself, fearing the idea of being left in agonising pain more than death.

But looking at the pain etched in her features, he could see Hermione needed it now, needed it more than he ever would.

He could never undo the pain he had inflicted upon her by calling her a Mudblood for all those years. But he could at least do this, he could at least take away the pain his aunt had caused as she cruelly carved it into her arm.

The screams of the goblin started up as Bellatrix casually began to torture him. But Draco took no notice, his mind only set on saving the girl in front of him.

"Drink," he ordered in a hushed voice, unstoppering the vial of purple liquid and pressing it to her lips.

She did as she was told, and he saw the pain leave her face in an instant. He felt his body relax, as though every single muscle in his body had been held tense throughout her suffering.

And then, lowering the now empty vial, she whispered something so quietly he had to dip his head and practically pressed his ear against her moving lips to hear.

"I remember everything... I remember that I love you."

Despite the dire situation they were in, Draco's heart expanded, a feeling of joy warming every part of him from hearing her say those words and mean it.

He reached out and touched her cheek, wanting to kiss her, but knowing this was neither the time or the place.

"I'm trying to free myself," he whispered furtively, her eyes lighting up at his confession, "but I can't do it, I can't make it work."

"You will," she said her tone defiant as she wrapped shaking fingers around his left forearm, "I know you will because I believe in you."

He wanted to say more, to tell her that he loved her more than anything, but at that very moment, Potter and Weasley had karate chopped their way into the room, disarming Bellatrix at once.

Wand light started flying everywhere as Hexes were thrown around the room, blasts issuing loudly from missed targets.

Draco leapt to his feet, his wand at the ready, but spotting her nephew's sudden reappearance, Bellatrix started yelling, "THE MUDBLOOD, DRACO! USE THE FILTHY BITCH!"

Realising he had little choice but to go along with it, Draco crouched back down behind the sofa, his eyes meeting Hermione's fearful gaze as she gave the merest of nods.

Then he roughly pulled her to her feet, tightly restraining her by clamping his arm around her chest and pressing his wand tip into the side of her head. He could feel her heart racing, matching his own, her breaths shallow and frightened, and he was reminded of the time he'd restrained her in Umbridge's office.

"Stop or she dies!" He bellowed, causing Bellatrix to clap gleefully, as though all this was being done for her entertainment... which, in a way, it was.

Potter and Weasley lowered their wands as they gawped over at him holding their friend, both of them looking thoroughly unsure of his true intentions.

"That's right, my boy," Bellatrix trilled, still clapping away, "now, throw down your wands."

The two Gryffindors glanced at one another, eyebrows raised. Draco wished they'd just bloody get on with it, he would find a way to slip them back their wands when his aunt wasn't watching, of course. But for now, they had to convince her that this was all going her way.

In the end they conceded, throwing them down at their feet. Draco thought he heard an ominous creaking sound from somewhere up above them but the wands cluttering noisily to the floor had masked it.

"Harry Potter, all bright and shiny and new!" Bellatrix began to sing as she dragged up the left sleeve of her dress, looking down lovingly at the vulgar image displayed in her pale flesh. "Let's see how the Dark Lord will thank me for-"

"IT IS MY HOME!" Lucius snarled, roughly pulling up his own sleeve. "If the Dark Lord thanks anyone then it shall be me."

Draco panicked as his aunt and father battled to be the first to call Voldemort, the pain in his own arm making him jerk violently, relinquishing his hold on Hermione.

But instead of running, she twisted around to face him, alarm written all over her face as she held his gaze. And he knew then what he must do, that if he didn't act fast then she was surely going to be killed.

And he loved her enough to do it, to risk never seeing his mother again, to risk the threat to his own family's reputation and undoubtedly their lives.

Before he could change his mind, he pulled her roughly to him, flicking his wand. One second they were stood in the Manor beneath a falling chandelier, and the next they found themselves landing hard on the ground of an old, abandoned building.

She hadn't been ready, and he steadied her as she stumbled and fell against him, her heart racing as she looked wildly around.

"Where- where are we?" She sounded panicked and he knew she would be worried about her friends, but he had to save her - he just had to.

"It's the Shrieking Shack," he explained in a rush, "it was the first place I thought of where they wouldn't necessarily think I'd take you."

But they certainly weren't safe, not yet, not until he could finally rid himself of the Dark Mark.

And it seemed Hermione was thinking along the same lines, as she quickly pulled up his sleeve to reveal the skull which was so black, it was almost glowing.

"Your wand," she gasped, breathless in her exhausted state, "quick, we need to try it, we need to try the spell."

He handed it to her at once, but as she held it aloft, pointing it at the Mark, she appeared to hesitate, her eyebrows knitting beneath her furrowed brow. "I can't- I can't remember it."

"Here," Draco murmured, grasping her wrist in the same way he had done when he had healed himself from Weasley's curse.

He began to mutter the incantation he'd been repeating night after night in a bid to free himself. But all those times he'd been unsuccessful, despite the effort he had given it.

"...Perdere Omnem Malitiam..."

Yet, somehow, this was different. His wand began to vibrate between Hermione's fingers as the magic passed through them from him; and the Dark Mark seemed to burn and sear in a way that it had never done before.

He continued to chant the incantation he had memorised through gritted teeth, the words seeming reluctant to leave his lips as though they had a will of their own. Sweat prickled at his skin and his body shook in pain, but he didn't let up, not even when he was convinced that his arm was going to combust into flames. He would not quit until he was free and could keep him and Hermione safe.

"...Remissionem Peccatorum..."

It was like being burned by fire and ice at the same time. But it was working, and he heard the startled gasp leave Hermione's lips as a blinding white light erupted from the Mark on his forearm, forcing them both to look away.

And then suddenly, along with the pain, the light vanished and they were stood panting heavily in darkness, an owl far off in the distance hooting away.

Hermione's voice broke the silence that followed, a whisper tickling the underside of his chin. "Did it work?"

He blinked, realising his fingers were still clamped tightly around her wrist. Slowly letting go, he retook his wand from her, and shakily pointed it towards his left arm.

"Lumos!" He muttered, the wand tip immediately lighting up.

He could scarcely believe at what he was seeing - or rather - what he was not seeing.

The Dark Mark was gone. He was free.

*****