Chapter One: Exposed

Hermione Granger stood, hooded and cloaked, outside a ring of trees. She wore a strapless, full length, black dress with a split up the side and a small split at the stop, showing off the curves of her breasts. Her cloak was black as well and had no sleeves, allowing the ugly tattoo that stung on her left forearm to show freely. Under her hood, black eyes set in a thin face glinted, and the black hair that flowed out onto her chest shown in the moonlight. She pulled a compact out of her cloak and opened it. The mirror glinted in the moonlight when she opened it. She looked at the reflection. The potion had worked. She was Bellatrix Lestrange.

The real Bellatrix lay on the ground at her feet, stunned. Next to her, also stunned, lay her husband, Roldolphus. They had apparated together, and Hermione, who had been waiting, had quickly and quietly shot a stunning spell at the pair of them when their backs were turned. She had then plucked hair from Bella and drank the Polyjuice, transforming her. Not wanting to waste time undressing the wench, she had transformed her clothes, but she was not so sure about that decision now. What would her husband say, or worse, what if it wasn't appropriate to Voldemort? She gazed into the trees. There was to be a meeting tonight to discuss "plans." Hermione was here to find out what those plans were. She was ready. Snape had trained her as an Occlumens, and they had gone over the plan a number of times. Still, she was nervous. But, she was ready. She had to be ready.

She closed the compact and put it away. She dragged Bellatrix to a clump of bushes and threw (yes, threw) her into them. Hermione hoped the fall would break her skull, but she didn't hear a crunch, crack, or even sickening thud, so she walked away, disappointed. 'Twould have served her to have something broken. If there weren't more pressing matters to attend to, Hermione would have taken personal pleasure in ridding the world of the evil witch. Ah well, another time.

She walked over to Rodolphus. Kneeling down, she put her wand to his head and used a spell to make a cut appear. She didn't both to stanch the bleeding.

"Enervate," she said.

Rodolphus' eyes fluttered open. He looked around and saw his wife kneeling next to him. He noticed almost right away now much his head was throbbing. "What happened?" he inquired.

"You fell," she answered.

"Fell?"

"Yes, husband, fell. You must have apparated on top of something wet, because you slipped, fell, and hit your head on a rock."

"Oh," he said. Then he noticed her clothes. "You weren't wearing that when we left."

"I was hot," she said nonchalantly, standing up. Then, smiling seductively at him, she said, "You disapprove?"

"Of course not . . . on the contrary, I could get used to this." He stood up as well. When he was on his feet, he swayed a bit, leaning onto the nearest tree for support. He wiped the blood off his head, and his wife came up to him. She pointed her wand at him, mumbled something, and his cut was healed. Rodolphus froze. Since when did his wife know healing spells? Something wasn't right.

Hermione moved to walk past the revolting man in front of her, but when she got within arms reach of him, he grabbed her and slammed her against the nearest tree. She gasped then recomposed herself and looked at the man in front of her. Adopting her Bella-voice, she snarled, "Husband, EXPLAIN YOURSELF!" But instead of an explanation, he leaned into her, sliding his hand around her waist and pulling her close. Then, he crammed his lips against her, pushing them apart. He forced his tongue in her mouth, found her tongue, and bit down. Hermione, thinking hard, took his tongue and bit down harder. When she released it, she pulled on his lip before releasing him. She regarded him sternly.

"Just checking something."

"Well, now that you've had your bit of fun, we're expected somewhere." She pushed past him.

Rodolphus caught her by the arm, pulling her to face him. He looked into his wife's eyes – or at least he thought they belonged to her. She kissed like she was his wife, but something about her didn't seem right. He shook the feeling off and pulled her to him, licking the length of her cheekbone until his tongue reached her ear, where he whispered, "We'll continue this little game at home." He gave his wife one final squeeze on her rump before smacking it to get her moving.

Hermione walked behind her "husband." She seriously resented healing him now, even more than she had when she had done it. They reached the last tree and stepped into the clearing. Hermione felt her nervousness grow as she gazed upon the hooded figure in all black standing in the center of the clearing.

Voldemort.

Hermione shut off all emotion as Voldemort turned to face them.

"You're late," came the cold voice. Hermione felt a shiver go down her spine at the sound of it. "You should know by now that I do NOT like to be kept waiting."

Rodolphus stepped forward. "I apologize, my lord. We had some trouble apparating. I –"

Voldemort held up his hand. "I don't want your weak excuses. Make sure it NEVER happens again."

"Yes, my lord," Rodolphus said. Then, he kneeled, and Hermione noticed, and followed suite. After kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes, her husband moved to stand in the gap waiting in the unfinished circle. Hermione did the same, but when she rose to join Rodolphus, Voldemort grabbed her arm. She froze, whether from terror or because she couldn't move or because she felt it was the right thing to do, she didn't know. She felt like she was a human, and he was a rattlesnake. She had to move slowly and carefully or he would feel threatened and strike. She slowly and carefully turned to look at him. She tried to show no emotion, but when she looked into his face, terror gripped her heart. He looked like Satan. Red eyes set in a pale – abnormally pale – face. The eyes were slits, as were the nostrils on his nose. He had a long, thin mouth and cat pupils. Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if those long, thin lips were hiding vampire teeth. Her knees were threatening to give way. She wanted to scream, cry, tear away from this creature. She could only stand there and hope he had not sensed her fear.

"You look . . . exciting tonight."

A shuffle ran through the circle. Hermione saw several people exchange looks, some smirks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rodolphus stiffen. Oh. So Voldemort had an interest in Bella, did he? Well, why not? After all, he was twisted, evil, and sick, as much if not as more as the heartless bitch. What was more, he was the master of both the Lestranges, so if he wanted to have some fun with another man's wife, there was no stopping him. (Well, if you valued your life, at least.) And no doubt Bella would have no complaints when asked to get cozy with the dark lord. Oooh. She would have fun baiting Rodolphus. She adopted her voice, but lowered it to a sexy purr. She fluttered her eyelashes seductively and said, "Thank you, my lord. I was actually nervous that you wouldn't approve." Well, thought Hermione, that part was true. And then, her terror turned to amusement as she thought how hilariously ironic it was for her to be telling the truth to the master of lies, tricks, and deceit.

Voldemort smiled and released her saying, "Calm your nerves. I approve."

Hermione smiled and walked over to stand beside Rodolphus. When she got there, he snarled, "So, that's the reason for your change of clothes."

Hermione turned and smiled at her "husband" a long, patronizing smile that really got him pissed. She was rubbing it all in his face and he knew it. Voldemort cleared his throat. There was no need. He had everyone's attention, and he knew it.

"As I predicted, the dementors have joined us. It is for that reason that you are all here tonight. Some of you have already managed to fit your way back into society, which is good because we are in need of spies in the ministry and other places. Lucius, MacNair, Crabbe, and Goyle have all gotten away with the excuse that the Imperious Curse was controlling them. The idiots at the ministry were soft enough to believe them."

Hermione looked over at Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle. They were all smirking. Assholes. She could have hexed them into oblivion.

"Those who aren't working in the ministry will be concentrating on bringing others to our side. The vampires, the goblins, and the giants – all of them. Now, to business. The prophecy is gone."

A rustle ran through the circle. Someone was going to pay. Voldemort turned to her.

"Bella, explain."

Hermione was ready. She had been forewarned that he would ask her to relive the events of the night when the last prophecy was smashed. She told the whole story and everyone's part in it. But, when she was done, Voldemort did not seem impressed. In fact, he was regarding her with suspicion. Uh- oh. What? What had she done, said wrong? Voldemort took a step towards her. But, when he spoke, it was not to her.

"Rodolphus."

"My lord?"

"Tell me, Rodolphus, has your wife had any contact with any of the other death eaters for the last two years?"

"No, my lord."

Oh shit, Hermione thought. Everything was going wrong. She said, "My lord, I don't understand."

He took another step towards her. He cocked his head and smiled. "No, Bella? You don't, do you? Your story has changed drastically since the night we escaped. Do you remember that night, Bella?" He took another step towards her. Why did he keep putting so much emphasis on her name? "I escaped with you. I asked you for your story. I tortured you until I got it out of you. You begged for my mercy, and I gave it to you, and more besides." He licked his lips, as if remembering how she had tasted. Hermione was sickened.

He took another step. And another. He was three steps away from her. Hermione was terrified. It was over. She had failed. Her story didn't match up. She was scared. She had to run. But where? All the death eaters were watching her. She was sandwiched by Rodolphus and Malfoy, with a tree behind her and Voldemort in front, advancing. Before she could do anything, Voldemort said, "Grab her!" and she felt two strong hands on her upper arms. Voldemort appeared in front of her. He pushed her hood off and grabbed her neck, forcing her head back.

"Scream for me, Bella."

"M-my lord?" she squeaked.

"Scream for me like you did that night. Scream out for me." His face was so close to her she could feel his hot breath on her neck. He pressed a finger onto the pressure point on her neck, and she moaned with pain. Suddenly, he stepped away. She looked up just in time to see him point his wand at her and say, "Crucio!" Pain racked her body. Searing, unimaginable pain racked her frame. She could feel the curse all over; it was tearing her muscles, burning her skin, pulling, biting, stabbing, ripping every part of her being. She screamed, louder and louder, the earsplitting pierce of her pain raking the circle, shattering the quiet of the night.

Voldemort knew now. This witch writhing before him was not Bellatrix Lestrange. But, who was it?