Author's Note: So, this first chapter – and the second as well – will be borrowing very heavily from the chapter "Malfoy Manor" from Deathly Hallows. There are direct quotations all over the place in the first two chapters. If you recognize it, chances are it didn't originate with me. Very obviously I do not own anything that J.K. Rowling has written, but am borrowing it for the express purpose of doing potentially cruel and unusual things to her characters. I hope she'll forgive me.

Divide and Devour

Chapter I

Snatchers

"…and lastly, your pretty little friend…" he said, in a voice that sounded like a body being dragged across dry gravel. The relish in his voice made Harry's flesh crawl.

Fenrir Greyback was poised on the balls of his feet, ready for swift action. The girl before him was trembling even as she tried to stand up straight and project an air of confidence. He eyed her appreciatively. Her brown hair swirled about her face and shoulders in untamed waves and curls. Pale skin – very soft, too, he thought – and from what he could tell from having grabbed her and thrown her to the ground only moments before, a delicious, curvy figure.

"Easy, Greyback," said Scabior over the jeering of the others.

"Oh, I'm not going to bite just yet. We'll see if she's a bit quicker at remembering her name than Barny. Who are you, girly?" he rasped.

"Penelope Clearwater," said Hermione. She sounded terrified, but convincing. She tried to look the imposing werewolf in the eye, earning her a snarl as he curled his lip at her to display cruelly pointed canine teeth. She dropped her eyes to her own twisting hands, bereft of wand, and then to her toes. Her panic-fogged brain offered up one bit of advice: Don't look an aggressive dog in the eye, said a hazy adult figure in her mind. Hermione fought off hysterical laughter at the thought of Fenrir Greyback, the most infamous werewolf alive, as nothing more than an overgrown dog.

"What's your blood status?" Greyback growled at her.

"Half-blood," said Hermione, still fighting off the rising feeling of hysteria welling in her chest.

"Easy enough to check," said Scabior. "But the 'ole lot of 'em look like they could still be 'ogwarts age –"

Ron spoke up through his mouthful of blood – Hermione glanced over at him as it continued to stream from his nose – and told the Snatchers that they had left Hogwarts.

"Left, 'ave you ginger?' said Scabior. "And you decided to go camping? And you thought, just for a laugh, you'd use the Dark Lord's name?"

"Nod a laugh," said Ron. "Aggiden."

"Accident?" There was more jeering laughter. Greyback barked a mirthless laugh filled with the sound of bones snapping, sending a shiver of revulsion up Hermione's spine. She tried not to jump when the werewolf questioned Ron about the Order. Oh Merlin, don't let them find out… please…! she thought frantically.

One of the nameless Snatchers twined his dirty fingers into Harry's hair and dragged him to a small group of prisoners as Greyback rounded on Hermione, a predatory glint in his steely eyes. He grabbed her about the waist, pulling her close against his chest, and heaved her over to the huddled group, leaving the man who had dragged and bound Harry to bind her as well. As the Snatcher left them to re-join his fellows Hermione felt the bubbling hysteria in her chest lessen, but the stifling sense of thwarted panic remained and her hear beat erratically like a small bird beating its wings against its cage. They could neither fight nor flee at this point, and Hermione didn't have any idea how they were going to get away.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the man called Scabior say her name. Her real name. Suddenly Fenrir Greyback's whiskered, dirty face was in front of her own; she could feel his hot breath and smell the tang of blood on it. She shot a fearful glance at him without raising her head, and saw the congealed blood between his pointed teeth.

"You know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you." He was perfectly still, a wolf regarding his prey.

"It isn't! It isn't me!" She said, her voice coming out in a squeak of abject terror.

"…known to be traveling with Harry Potter," repeated Greyback quietly.

Hermione trembled, silently cursing herself for being the one to give away Harry's identity when he had had the Snatchers believing his flimsy cover story. There was a frenzied search - "I found glasses!" yelped one of the Snatchers. She glanced quickly between Harry, glasses now sitting askew on his swollen face, and the huddled group of Snatchers discussing their fate.

"Will you summon 'im? 'ere?" gasped a terrified-sounding Scabior.

"No," snarled Greyback. "I haven't got – they say he's using Malfoy's place as a base. We'll take the boy there."

She focused on the werewolf, realizing that what he didn't have had to be the Dark Mark… of course You-Know-Who wouldn't allow a half-human to bear his Mark, she thought acidly, he's only using Greyback, doesn't think he's a good as a pureblood…. Her sudden sense of outrage faded as quickly as it had flared when she realized she was offended on behalf of a man who was about to deliver her and her best friends into the hands of the most evil wizard alive, who would most certainly torture and kill them. She never had the chance to notice who grabbed her as they Apparated to Malfoy Manor.

They were half-marched, half-dragged to the entrance where Narcissa Malfoy ushered them inside. The hallway, lined with portraits ranging between ancient and recent, was dimly lit and cold. Narcissa regarded them for a moment with a characteristic look of distaste etched onto her features – Hermione could swear she saw the woman recoil from the musky reek of the werewolf standing at the front of the group. She turned quickly and called over her shoulder for them to follow so that Draco could identify his erstwhile classmates. Greyback's heavy footfalls echoed, while the steps of the other Snatchers were obscured by the sound of the prisoners stumbling and being dragged across the floor. They entered a drawing room with dark purple walls, dazzlingly lit by the most ostentatious chandelier Hermione had ever seen – and that was counting tours of the grand estates her parents had liked to take her on when she was younger.

Keeping her head down, she tried to stop herself trembling. In her peripheral vision she could see Draco, his face wan and drawn. He approached Harry while trying to keep as much distance as possible between himself and Greyback, his eyes flashing resentfully from the werewolf to his father's keen face; he was evidently feeling himself caught between a rock and a hard place and disliking every moment of it.

"I can't – I can't be sure," he stammered.

Hermione felt a flood of relief wash over her at Draco's words, and again as he told his father he didn't know. She tried to keep still, remain unnoticed as Draco deflected his father's questions.

"What about the Mudblood, then?" growled Greyback, hauling them around so the assembled Malfoys could clearly see Hermione.

"Yes – yes," Narcissa said suddenly, "she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn't that the Granger girl?"

Hermione kept her head down as she felt the bubble of hysteria swell again, bringing bile to her throat. When had Draco Malfoy ever passed up an opportunity to cause her humiliation or pain?

"I…maybe…yeah." he said half-heartedly.

Lucius's eyes filled with excitement as he pointed to Ron, trying to identify him. Draco answered noncommittally without sparing them a glance. Please, please, she thought, just… let us go… don't summon him… oh, please…. There was an infinitesimal pause; no one seemed to know what to do. The small reprieve they had been granted was shattered just as quickly: Hermione heard Harry's sharp intake of breath as they heard the harsh voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. As she apprehended the situation her face lit with manic glee, she would call Voldemort – they were all about to die –

But instead Lucius and Bellatrix began to bicker, until Bellatrix caught sight of the gleaming sword of Gryffindor being held idly in the filth-encrusted hands of one of the Snatchers. Stunning spells flew, and all of the Snatchers save the werewolf fell where they had been standing. Greyback landed hard on his knees, immobile and savagely angry. Bellatrix advanced on him, her chest heaving, to question him about the sword. Her lip curled in revulsion as she stared down her nose at the werewolf, but she released him from the spell that had been holding him. Hermione watched the witch out of the corner of her eye as best she could, and she could nearly see the thoughts spinning themselves out as Bellatrix muttered half-formed sentences, and began shouting orders to move the prisoners, sparking another squabble with the Malfoys.

"Do it! You have no idea of the danger we are in!" she shrieked at her sister, her wand shooting sparks and flames. Narcissa glanced from her sister to her husband warily before ordering Greyback to move them to the cellar.

"Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. "All except … except for the Mudblood."

As Hermione was towed by her hair to the middle of the drawing room, she heard the werewolf mocking her companions in an obscenely cheerful tone:

"Reckon she'll let me have a bit of the girl when she's finished with her? I'd say I'll get a bite or two, wouldn't you, ginger?"