Do or Die
I couldn't have done otherwise. And let them talk that one always has a choice, I wasn't given the one. I was forced to kill Draco Malfoy. When my Lord gave me that task, I didn't hesitate even for an instance. That was just one more test – if a muggleborn would manage to withstand. If she wouldn't break. And I hadn't break.
That was laughably easy. Though, I had a time to think about it, my hand wasn't trembling when I was pouring the poison into his Firewhiskey. My soul wasn't tearing apart onto pieces when I watched as Draco Malfoy gulped it down. Voldemort decided that Draco Malfoy wasn't in need in the rows of Death Eaters anymore and I agreed with him. Malfoy was pathetic. He always looked too frightened while making a Lord's task. He always mumbled, couldn't give a normal answer for what he was often punished by our Master. And I had never pitied Malfoy.
I was ordered to finish him in the cruelest way I would like. That's like in the Nazi schools, when students were ordered to get themselves a dog and then, after a while, they were forced to strip off the skins with their pets. Students were tested for strength, for resistance. Yes, all of it was looking quite similar, except for one fact – Draco wasn't in the list of the people whom I loved. We must have communicated only because of the common business. Besides it, I despised Malfoy.
I remember exactly the day when I went to the Dark side. By those times Voldemort had already taken the Ministry, many people were murdered, in one of the battles Ron was killed and Harry was captured, because Voldemort wanted to take revenge personally. As for me, I was made as the toy of huntsmen. Without increase and embellishments I would say that I outlived much pain and cruelty. I was tortured and raped. Once huntsmen had cut my face, the skin on my belly, my hair and they also had cut off one of my thumbs. Back then I thought I would die. And I wanted to die. Not from the humiliation but from pain. How could have Bellatrix ever enjoyed it? Maybe after her death the Dark Lord wanted to find a new toy, who knows? I was devoid of magic so I couldn't have healed myself and I just wanted Death to come for me. That was when it happened. In that moment, lying moribund on the ground, filthy and all in blood, I saw Him. Lord Voldemort himself went to the camp of the huntsmen to see if I was still alive. I remember him leaning over me, and then he stroked my gory face and smiled leniently.
"Your suffering would be rewarded," he said while healing me. He took me with himself. That was when I discovered that I was sold – Harry begged for freedom for himself by offering my life. That was quite simple – I was given to the enemies like a lousy kitten. Everybody was avoiding me, wrinkling their noses in disgust and saying that my blood stank too strongly, but when the Dark Lord just looked at them his faithful dogs were falling silent. He called me and asked: "Do you want to live?" I nodded. He then smiled satisfyingly and stretched me the wand. "You will live if you become a Death Eater," he said suavely. And I agreed. Nobody dared to disagree in the presence of the Dark Lord, but left alone with them I heard many different things. Only the Cruciatus curse made them fall silent. Most of all I used this hex on Draco Malfoy, actually.
While I was remembering those sweet things Draco was already curled up. His face became red, he was almost not able to breathe. Malfoy raised his tired scared eyes on me, asking only one question,
"Why?"
That was when my lips curled into wide smile. I looked around the Malfoy-menor's living-room and then raised from the leather couch. I crouched down near suffering Draco and lifted his head by the chin.
"Because I'm a murderer, you know? I was ordered to kill you and here I am, executing this very order. Do you have anything against it?"
There was no answer. Only moaning and wheezing escaped his mouth. Draco caught his throat, bile foam dripping onto the floor from his chin.
The fire crackled lazily in the chimney.
"W… Why?" the words again left his mouth.
"You're pathetic," I answered calmly. "You have no place among us. But as we can't let you go, you see, we have to kill you."
I saw the new question in his eyes, but Malfoy was already too weak to ask it aloud. I smiled again.
"No, Draco. I couldn't have just killed you. It's sort of exam. And you know I always pass all the tests with the best marks. The Killing curse – it would've been way too easy, everybody is able to perform it. And I don't want you to die, no, not exactly. I desire it, your death will cause me a pleasure, and the pleasure must be extended, isn't it?"
I stood up abruptly and waved my wand. Malfoy wanted to scream but I'd heard only the pathetic squeak. He rolled onto his back and arched up as if there was a taut string inside of him. I snorted.
"Oh, Draco. Why are you always behaving like a baby-girl? One can get bored, really. You can't serve for the Dark Lord. But I don't think He may make a mistake so let's play a little test for you, shall we?
I waved my wand again. Malfoy was finally able to scream. He touched his neck with the trembling hand. Or what had remained from the neck – I'd burned out almost the half of it by one nice Burning curse. Then one more wave and Draco was bleeding from both arms. The wounds hemorrhaged badly because after the curse skin was looking like it had been ripped off.
The fire crackled lazily in the chimney.
The rope streamed from my wand and wrapped itself around Malfoy's neck. He started to buck, pupils rolled backside and I saw only the bright whiteness. Draco tried to weaken the rope but with the new wave of the wand it wrapped around his arms, too. Once again I used the Burning curse, enjoying the result, watching as his black pants started to smoke, as his skin started to sizzle on knees and the corner of bone was becoming clearly visible.
"Please…" I lip-read.
And I knew he was begging for help, for mercy. No way, sweetheart. You mocked me, all of you were mocking me. You, rich morons, thought, I wouldn't be able to serve the Dark Lord properly. Now watch and remember – I am able. And you would be afraid of me after this death. And if not afraid, then, you'd respect me, for sure.
"I would have said 'Sorry'," I smirked, leaning down his mutilated body. "But I have nothing to be sorry about."
With my wand in hand I dissected the air and the rope left Malfoy's neck, though, he wasn't able anything, he was only able to hold his throat. Because right then I used the Cutting curse. And there he was, scarlet flow streaming down his neck. I was watching him dying and only then I understood that I was reviving in that moment. And when the last drop of life left him, my rotten soul blossomed, finally.
The fire crackled lazily in the chimney.
"Great," I announced loudly.
The doors to the living-room opened and the Darl Lord stepped in slowly, his pace laze and sophisticated, Death Eaters following him. In silent admiration he looked at the dead body and gestured his followers to come closer. I heard as Narcissa Malfoy started to sob and Lucius and Bellatrix started to hiss angrily. But I also saw the shadow of fear on their faces and that was enough for me to calm my inner self. My Lord lended me a hand.
"Now you have a right to consider yourself the Death Eater. Roll up your sleeve now, my dear," he started to hiss as a snake.
I obeyed and did what he had said while Voldemort was still observing the body.
"Great work. Burns, bruises, deep wounds. Where have you learned it from, Hermione?"
"From huntsmen, my Lord. They've done all of that to me."
Voldemort burst in laughter.
"Perhaps, I have to send all my faithful servants to them, shall I?"
He turned to the group of Death Eaters and they simultaneously backed away in fear. Then he looked at me again. He squeezed my wrist and pressed the wand in my arm.
"Are you ready, my dear?" he asked quietly.
"I am," I responded firmly.
I thought my forearm was burning in pain, then it flopped over the entire body of mine but I didn't show any reaction outside, looking straight in my Lord's eyes. He stared at me with such admiration and gratefulness I never thought he could possess. When he removed his wand I dared to look down at my bruised arm. Now there was the Dark Mark in it, the same all the other Death Eaters had. And my heart beat faster than it had ever before.
"I'll immediately give you the new task, sweetheart," said Voldemort, circling around me. "Do you remember an old friend of yours, Harry Potter?"
"He's not my friend," I answered sharply.
I almost felt my Lord smiling behind my back.
"Good. Then tell me, Hermione, will you be able to fetch him to me?"
"Will you kill him?"
"Oh, not exactly," he smiled. "At first I would allow you to torture the Great Harry Potter, as you have just done the same to Malfoy and only then I'd kill him. Do you agree on this?"
I smirked predatorily. Harry Potter had died to me in the moment of leaving me to Death, when he left me to huntsmen, not even trying to save me. And when he had sold me I vowed myself I would not allow him to live peacefully. I vowed myself I would not allow him to live. For an old Hermione Granger it would have been cruelly, an old Hermione Granger would burst in tears, she would prefer to die for Harry Potter. But at that moment I was no longer that Hermione Granger. The truth was that even on the chamomile field the grave crosses could arise.
I waved my wand to fire the chimney again.
"Have I to deliver him today, my Lord?"