Getting Through Tomorrow
Chapter 2: The Abduction
Many years later . . .
Hermione knew that sneaking into Hogsmeade on Christmas Eve was a bad idea, but she didn't see any other choice but to follow Harry and Ron. They wouldn't last two minutes without her, and she secretly wanted to have a bit of fun with the boys as they would only be sixteen once.
She bought two Peppermint Wands at Honeydukes and wondered over to the park bench where Ron and Harry sat listening to a group of carolers singing by an enchanted bonfire. The kaleidoscope of colored flames accompanying the melodious singing charmed visitors and locals alike.
It was the only time of year that the village permitted alcohol to be sold in the streets, and revelers came from all over the Wizarding World to drink traditional magical beverages. Hogsmeade's own famous spirit was Morgana's Spiced Mead, and Ron was fast working on finishing his second round.
Draining the last drop from his cup, he stood up to go buy more. As an afterthought, he turned to Hermione. His initial intention was to ask her if she wanted him to buy her some. The words died in his throat when his eyes locked onto her lips, which were locked onto a Peppermint Wand.
Hermione didn't know how long Ron was watching her before she noticed. However, she had been aware of his lustful stare for the last three minutes. In an attempt to subtly let him know that she knew where his thoughts lie, she slowly slid she candy into her mouth about six inches deep and sucked extra hard on the way back to the top. She made sure that there was an extra loud popping noise when she pulled it out of her mouth. Ron didn't seem to notice, so she started licking it.
His voice was monotone and barely above a whisper when he said, "She doesn't know what she's doing to me."
Ron was just speaking aloud to himself, but as his statement happened to coincide with a break in the music, he managed to capture Harry's amused attention.
Harry snickered when he noted the disbelief and annoyance growing quickly in Hermione's eyes. "Ron, she knows exactly what she's doing. If you had even bothered to look at her eyes for one moment, you would have seen that already. Don't be surprised when she hits you over the head with that giant stick of candy."
As soon as Ron looked up to Hermione, she cried, "Unbelievable, Ron. The fact that I'm enjoying my favorite holiday candy is the catalyst for your oral sex fantasies. I know we're teenagers, but really? You were in a trance for ten minutes!"
"Honestly, Hermione! Why must you exaggerate? It couldn't have been more than five."
"You are right . . . because you wouldn't last more than three!"
A few of the people closest to them were beginning to notice the argument, so Harry put his hand on each of their shoulders. They both looked at him in embarrassment and smiled. Before Harry could say anything, it started snowing.
"Happy Christmas, Ron . . . Hermione."
They answered him at the same time. "Happy Christmas, Harry."
Hermione turned to Ron and gave him a Peppermint Wand. "Happy Christmas, Ron."
Ron smiled at her. "Happy Christmas, Hermione. Would you like some mead?"
"No, thank you."
Harry followed Ron to the window of the tavern, and Hermione smiled when two young women approached her best friends and began a conversation. They looked so happy. She wished it would last although she knew that it wouldn't.
Suddenly, she felt a large hand on hers and the tug of Apparation, and she wasn't there anymore.
HG******************************************************LV
Murder, violence, and torture were necessary evils that were integral to the success of Lord Voldemort's rule. Those unfamiliar with him naturally assumed that he enjoyed those things. He shared a reputation for an insatiable bloodlust with several of his fanatical Pureblood followers, including Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange. He valued that reputation, but he didn't live up to it.
It was common knowledge among the Death Eaters that the carnage produced in their raids and revels repulsed him. In fact, the foul stench of blood and other bodily fluids had a far worse effect on their Dark Lord's temper than even Harry Potter. He ordered deaths only when necessary.
Voldemort never actually ordered the torture of prisoners. He ordered his Death Eaters to get the information and the results that he required. They knew that Voldemort could cast the most powerful Cruciatus Curse that any of them had ever seen, so they rarely disappointed their lord. Most of them preferred to use Muggle means of torture. Even though magical torture was more painful than any Muggle weapon, knives and brands looked far more gruesome to the victim and to the observer. That kind of psychological mind-fuck was priceless to the sadistic eccentrics in Voldemort's regime.
He could hear her screaming in the lounge. Clenching his fists and wondering which of his minions dared to bring a prisoner into his private residence, he made his way into the room.
A girl was slumped over in a chair. Blood was trickling through several of her brunette curls and dropping onto his Persian rug. Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Rabastian Lestrange were in attendance.
In a voice too quiet, Voldemort asked, "Lucius?"
"Yes, my lord?"
"Why is there an unconscious woman in my house bleeding all over a priceless carpet?"
Voldemort's wand was twitching in his hand. The other two Death Eaters stepped a safe distance away from Lucius.
Lucius did not lose any of his confidence when he explained, "This is Hermione Granger . . . Potter's Mudblood. I thought that your rules about keeping the house free from filth would not apply to a prisoner of such notoriety, my lord."
Voldemort's eyes flicked to the girl before settling back on Lucius. "Yes, you were right to bring her to me . . ."
Bellatrix suddenly sashayed into the room. Grabbing a handful of curly hair, the insane witch snatched Hermione's head back and cackled in her ear before licking a drop of blood from above the girl's eye.
Voldemort suppressed the need to vomit while the other men in the room looked on with disinterest. While a completely unhinged female Death Eater was a charming addition to the team, most thought that Bella's antics were getting old.
Lucius offered a clean handkerchief to the Dark Lord while saying, "For fuck's sake, Bella. The adults in the room are attempting to converse. You can play with her when our lord is done."
The Dark Lord quietly excused his followers from his presence and sat in front of the dying fire. There was no need to revive his prisoner. She would come around soon, and he would use his precious time alone to wallow in the memories of Christmas Eves past. The stale air produced by blood, sweat, and fear was difficult to overcome, but the faint fragrance of peppermint was the unexpected avenue for finally sending his mind back to another time and place.
