A/N: Thanks ever so much for the reviews, I'm pleased you all like what I've got so far.
This chapter contains a trigger warning for death and torture.
Don't forget to tell me what you think in that inviting review box down the bottom *nudges you hopefully whilst offering cookies* Much love!
xx-Kitten
Fervidity
By Kittenshift17
Chapter 3: Confrontation
... "I am holding on, my finger on the pulse,
The sound of my heart pounding tells me there's still hope.
But people don't like when you put up a fight,
And slowly, ever so slowly, I am losing mine.
I'll fight, fight, fight, or be taken out alive"...
- Fight (Icon for Hire)
They landed outside the gates of the most impressive structure other than Hogwarts that Hermione had ever laid eyes upon. And that was saying something given that in her youth her parents had ensured she fostered a deep love of architecture and often took her on trips around the globe look upon such fine infrastructure.
"Do not speak without my permission," Snape warned her, shaking her grip off his arm as soon as they were through the gates.
Malfoy Manor was a dark and foreboding mansion that she imagined had been even grander when it wasn't shrouded in Dark Magic. Overhead, storm clouds gathered and thunder boomed ominously. The scraping rooftops of the towers and turrets that made up the structure stabbed viciously at the pregnant rain clouds, threatening to slice them open and unleash the downpour.
Hermione hurried after Snape, hiding her surprise at the sight of the impressive building quickly in favour of keeping her wits about her. She kept her wand clutched in her hand, hidden inside her sleeve but ready to use at a moment's notice if she needed it. Snape was silent as he led her up the long drive, the dead body of the girl who looked like Hermione Granger draped over his shoulder as though it weighed nothing. Hermione's own frizzy hair swayed and dancing in time with his movements and she found it entirely alarming to be looking at her dead body whilst still being alive. Anticipation and fear coiled inside her belly as the looming Manor towered over her but Hermione didn't show it. Instead she clutched her wand a little tighter, took another calming breath, and followed the man she was pretending was her sire into the house and through the many winding corridors.
It took much of her restraint to keep from marvelling at the enormous foyer and the long, lavishly decorated corridors. Hermione wondered how the Malfoy family felt to have Voldemort using their house as his fortress. Did they object to having such unsavoury characters crossing the threshold? Did they disdain having bodies dragged in, as her own was currently being drug, to be handed over to the Dark Lord?
Before she could contemplate it further, Hermione was lead into what was once probably a lavish dining room or perhaps a ballroom. Fear clawed at her psyche when she saw the number of Death Eaters gathered in the hall. Her eyes danced over the blonde haired Malfoy's; past those Death Eaters who'd been rescued from Azkaban; Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange among them. Fenrir Greyback prowled like a caged animal over a small section of floor by the fire. Dolohov, Yaxley, Scabior, Crabbe Snr., Goyle and Nott were there too. Among them were even more dark witches and wizards Hermione didn't know by appearance and she went on high alert as she followed Snape into their midst. Voldemort was terrible to behold. He exuded power as he paced distractedly at the head of the room before what appeared to be a throne.
His attention was drawn to the sound of Snape's footsteps as they entered and Snape ignored his brethren as he headed for the Dark Lord with Hermione Granger's body thrown over his shoulder. When he gave her no instruction of what to do, Hermione simply followed after him in silence, her head held high. She wondered if she looked as fearless as she was trying to portray.
"Ah, Severus," the Dark Lord greeted him with a terrible smile. His crimson eyes were heart-stoppingly awful to behold and Hermione tried not to stare at his unusual snake-like appearance.
"My Lord," Snape replied grimly.
"We had begun to worry, my friend," the Dark Lord chastised Snape lightly though Hermione could tell they'd worried not that he'd been killed, but that they had been betrayed.
"There were some complications with my task, my Lord," Snape offered, flicking his gaze towards her.
"You've brought me a gift?" Voldemort said, his eyes fixed on the dead body over the Potions master's shoulder.
"Indeed," Snape replied dryly.
Hermione flinched minutely when he tossed the body carelessly to the ground, somehow causing it to land in such a way that her facial features were revealed.
"Hermione Granger," Snape said indifferently.
"You killed her?" the Dark Lord asked gleefully, "Ah Severus, I had begun to think you were going soft."
Hermione looked on in horror when the barefooted man toed the hair away from the face of the girl on the floor.
"Hermione Granger is dead!" he shouted smugly and the cheer from among the Death Eaters was resounding.
"HERMIONE!" someone screamed raggedly, and Hermione looked for the owner of the voice.
Her stomach twisted painfully when she saw Ron. He was beaten and bloody, his face barely recognizable. He was dangling from his wrists, chained to the ceiling in the corner, his feet barely skimming the ground.
He screamed at the sight of her dead body, his eyes fixed on the girl on the floor.
Hermione quaked where she stood, every fibre of her being demanding she spring into action to save him; to relive him of the pain her supposed death was causing. Before she could, Hermione felt a tiny pinprick of pain in her hand and she glanced down at it in confusion. Snape held something small and wickedly sharp, just big enough to be concealed inside his palm. And he'd just stabbed her with it. Hermione narrowed her eyes in annoyance before realizing he'd stabbed her with the tip to keep her from giving them away.
"What a disgusting display," Voldemort said, eyeing Ron with viciousness, "A pureblood lowering himself to sob over the death of a mudblood."
He clucked his tongue disapprovingly and the catcalls from the Death Eaters began, jeering at Ron's pain, celebrating her apparent death. Revelling in the anguish it caused Ron.
"How long do you think it will take him to give up?" Voldemort asked conversationally of Snape as though they weren't talking about someone's heartbreak and someone else's death.
"Not long, my Lord," Snape replied coldly, completely disaffected by Ron's howling rage and pain.
"And who might we have here?" Voldemort asked, clearly dismissing Ron in favour of turning his attention to Hermione.
"My daughter," Snape replied in an almost offhand way.
"You have children, Severus?" Voldemort asked, clearly surprised.
"Someone lowered themselves to fuck him?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked in a horrified and derogatory tone.
"It would seem as though I do, my Lord," Snape answered, ignoring Bellatrix, "I had no idea until she turned up on my doorstep last week. Her mother died."
"How fascinating," Voldemort mused, his red eyes fixed upon her speculatively, "Does she have a name?"
"Mina," Snape replied, "Mina Graziani-Snape. She's Italian. Until last week she lived in Italy with her mother."
"Mina Graziani?" Voldemort asked and Hermione glanced up at him, being sure to avoid making eye contact lest he use Legilimens on her. She glanced towards Snape in askance of whether she should speak. He nodded almost unperceptively, indicating she should answer Voldemort
"Si?" she asked, adopting a mild Italian accent and speaking the language, "Oh, um, I mean yes?"
Hermione looked at her feet, pretending to be embarrassed about the supposed language slip-up.
"You are Snape's child?" Voldemort asked suspiciously.
"Yes, my Lord," Hermione whispered, fearful the tone of her voice would give away her identity though she didn't recall ever speaking to Voldemort or in fact anyone in the room except for Snape, as well as Lucius and Draco Malfoy.
"How Severus?" Voldemort wanted to know and Hermione felt very much like a hunk of meat when the terrible wizard began to circle her like a vulture, contemplating her from every angle.
"A teenage dalliance," Snape shrugged as though that were explanation enough, "Her mother never told me she'd been born."
"Yet you believe she is telling the truth," Voldemort said, though he didn't at all phrase it like a question, as though he was certain of Snape's thoughts, "There is very little resemblance."
"Small mercies, my Lord," Snape answered tightly and Hermione bit her lip.
Adopting the role of a doting daughter she flashed him a little smile, reaching over and taking the teacher's hand to give it a little squeeze of reassurance.
"Indeed," Voldemort agreed about Snape's less than fortunate appearance and the other Death Eaters gathered in the hall tittered with amusement as though on cue, "Her timing seems suspicious, Severus?"
"I know," Snape sighed, "She's been staying with me since she arrived last week and she was with me when I received your summons. I decided it was time to introduce her to you."
"Intriguing," Voldemort muttered, and Hermione tightened the grip she still had on Snape's hand when the snake-like dark wizard trailed the knuckles of his left hand down her right cheek. She sensed that he was trying to convince her to glare at him; to force her to meet his gaze and so more effectively use Legilimens on her. As it was she could feel the subtle invasion attempts he was mounting on her mind and Hermione thought very hard about an enormous mirror, reflecting only his own thoughts back to him.
"Is she his daughter, my Lord?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked when Voldemort pulled back several minutes later having gained nothing from her but a sense of grief and lingering fear over being in his presence.
"It would seem so," Voldemort replied evenly, and Hermione refused to meet his gaze though she could feel his continued attention.
"Finally," Bellatrix practically hummed with delight and Hermione glanced in her direction as a slow, gloating smile spread across the wicked witch's face, "He finally has a weakness. Avada Kedavra!"
Hermione threw up a shield immediately as the woman uttered the word weakness. Snape dropped her hand, conjuring a shield charm between Hermione and the jet of green light that came hurtling for her. In truth the shield charms would have little effect as they didn't work to block the Unforgiveable. Side-stepping the jet of light and splitting off slightly from Snape, Hermione felt anger blossom inside her soul, writhing like some feral beast beneath her skin. She'd never practiced the Dark Arts before that moment.
She wondered what it said about her that her lack of practice or experience with casting dark curses didn't show.
"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione snarled right back, twirling her wand wildly, her eyes fixed on the raven-haired witch.
The vile woman was much too quick with her own shield charm and some fast footwork to succumb to the spell, but she seemed shocked by the entirely vicious and relentless response she received from Hermione. Hermione also refused to simply stop at one curse. She might not yet have mastered non-verbal magic to the point where she could use the Unforgivables without a sound, but there were many more spells in her repertoire that could be put to effective use. All of Hermione's fury over the way the Death Eaters had reacted to her supposedly dead body; all the rage over their treatment of Ron and her inability to help him; all the simmering anger she had been bottling up whilst handling Voldemort's horcrux and being on the run poured forth in a surprising display of dark and ruthless magic.
Spell after spell shot from Hermione's wand, her attention and cruel intentions riveted on Bellatrix Lestrange.
"My, Severus, but she is fast," Hermione heard the Dark Lord commend almost gleefully. Bellatrix was firing off spells of her own, attempting to use the Cruciatus curse on Hermione but Hermione had been training with Ron and Harry almost incessantly whenever they had free time and energy to spare whilst on the run. If there was one thing she had mastered, it was how to maintain a shield charm and dodge dangerous spells whilst shooting off rapid-fire curses of her own.
"Avada Kedavra," Bellatrix tried again and Hermione felt a ruthless sense of glee when the spell missed her by inches and instead collided with one of the many Death Eaters in the room. He fell to the ground dead and all Hermione could think was that he was one less bastard to torment the Order.
Hermione managed to hit the distracted witch with a spell designed to boil her blood and she felt a sense of triumph when the bitch cried out. Bellatrix stumbled back a step, her once beautiful face rapidly turning splotchy and red.
"Cruico!" Bellatrix hissed through gritted teeth.
Again, Hermione's side-stepped, though just barely.
"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione spat in return, firing her wand at the woman ruthlessly. The bright green of the spell burst from the end of Hermione's wand, speeding towards the witch. Bellatrix shrieked when her husband snatched his wife out of the spell's path before blocking the Slicing hex Hermione aimed at the woman as she tripped, her rapidly boiling blood causing dizziness and loss of motor function.
"ENOUGH!" Voldemort snapped when Rodolphus Lestrange looked like he meant to attempt killing Hermione as well.
Rodolphus lowered his wand immediately and Hermione levelled a glare at the man and his nutty wife though she too desisted her attack.
"My Lord?" Rodolphus asked, flicking his eyes towards his wife.
"She will suffer a while longer, Rodolphus, my friend," the Dark Lord purred as he eyed Bellatrix's rapidly deteriorating form. She had fallen to her knees and was flailing in agony, "Perhaps our dear Bella will not be so quick to underestimate her opponents in future."
Snape's hand clamped over Hermione's tightly, tugging her slightly closer to him until she was well inside his personal space, practically tucked under his arm though he did not relinquish his grip on her wand hand. He levelled her a stern glare but Hermione refused to look repentant.
"Mina Graziana," the Dark Lord purred and Snape's eyes warned her to be careful. She had, after all, just managed to barely survive a duel with one of Voldemort's most loyal generals and inadvertently caused the death of another of his marked followers.
"My Lord?" Hermione asked softly in return, flicking her gaze to the dark wizard before looking at something over his right shoulder to keep from showing insubordination by meeting his gaze.
"What spell did you use on our dear Bellatrix?" the evil creature purred and Hermione could tell he approved of her behaviour as Bellatrix began to shriek as though she was under the effects of the Cruciatus.
"One of my own making, my Lord," Hermione replied evenly. She hadn't meant to ever use the spell for this purpose, of course. She had invented a blood warming charm to heal herself, Harry and Ron whilst on the run. An all over warming charm required a lot of energy and frequent re-application. A spell that heated the blood instead warmed the body with less magic required, but was more dangerous. Misuse or over-zealous casting could result in the pain Bellatrix currently suffered.
"Indeed?" the Dark Lord sounded intrigued, "Do tell us then, what currently ails her?"
"Her blood is boiling, my Lord. Soon it will reach its pinnacle and her brain will melt," Hermione was entirely pleased with herself over the fate of the woman and also over her entirely analytical and nonplussed answer. She was doing her damnedest to channel her inner-Snape (if she had one) and as such was going for the deadpan tone he so often used in the face of such things.
"Remarkable," the Dark Lord complimented, "Perhaps she is more like you than anticipated, Severus,"
"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied, eyeing her carefully. Hermione thought she caught a hint of pride glittering in the black depths of his gaze, though whether it was fabricated for the audience or genuine, Hermione didn't know.
"My Lord?" Rodolphus Lestrange asked again, sounding mildly concerned this time as his wife's shrieks began to waiver towards simple whimpering.
"The counter-curse, Miss Graziana?" Voldemort appealed to Hermione.
"Counter-curse, my Lord?" Hermione asked, affecting a look of consternation, "Apologies my Lord, but I design my curses with the intention of seeing my victims suffer. Not for offering mercy from my clutches. There is no counter-curse."
Voldemort laughed and Hermione tamped down the shudder of horror that tried to wrack her frame in favour of sharing a small smile with the evil creature.
"She is doomed then?" he asked a moment later and Hermione caught the glitter in his red eyes that suggested she would meet the same fate if that were the case.
"I'm sure that a powerful cooling charm might be of some use, my Lord," Hermione offered, tight-lipped, her smile disappearing just as quickly as Voldemort's. Rodolphus knelt next to his wife, muttering the magic quickly. Her whimpering lessened, but whether that was as a result of relief from the pain or if she had succumbed to the spell too much to feel any further pain was unclear.
"Mina," the Dark Lord warned her, "If another of my loyal Death Eaters meets death this evening as a result of your presence here, I will be most displeased."
Hermione nodded, narrowing her eyes a little before glancing at Snape in askance.
"My Lord, perhaps I..." Severus began but the Dark Lord cut him off, holding up his hand.
"While her ruthlessness is admirable in not designing the counter-curse, Severus, I am displeased about this. She caused this. She will fix it. Or feel my wrath."
"Ah," Hermione sighed, slipping further into the character of Mina Graziana, "Justice at work. Bitch tries to kill me and I find her life in my own hands. How unfortunate that it must slip through my fingers. This time."
She smirked a little when several of the Death Eaters heard her comment. She caught the way a few of them smirked and braver souls - like Greyback - outright laughed. Snape's eyes flashed at her in warning and Hermione knew she was pushing her luck. Hermione stalked away from him and towards the prone form of the bitch she would very much enjoy seeing dead.
"My Lord," Hermione said quietly as she drew closer to the woman, "I am able to save her, but I feel I should warn you... She will not be the same. She has suffered the curse for several minutes now. That kind of heat affecting the brain may leave her dysfunctional."
"Bitch is already dysfunctional," Rabastan Lestrange muttered, though not loud enough for anyone else to hear. Voldemort didn't comment on Hermione's assessment.
"Move," she commanded Rodolphus Lestrange in a cold voice when she came upon the married couple. Bellatrix was scarlet all over with the heat of the curse and drool trickled from the corner of her mouth, which was open in a silent scream. Her eyes gave away the pain now, wide and terrified; Bellatrix knew she was in the throes of death. Lestrange curled his lip at her but moved aside slightly. Hermione refused to kneel - as he had done - instead choosing to aim her wand at the woman while glaring coldly down on her. Loathing bubbled in Hermione's blood and she suspected it was evident in her eyes.
She would need to be careful now. Bellatrix wouldn't die from the curse unless Hermione let her, which Voldemort wasn't going to allow. She might be incapacitated for a time, but she would probably regain most of her brain function. And then Hermione didn't doubt the bitch would try to kill her again. She would need to be vigilant. She'd just embarrassed the witch beyond measure and Hermione knew she would have to pay for it.
Rather than commenting on her thoughts or allowing the woman to die - as she very much wanted to do - Hermione let the magic pour out of herself. She'd lied about the charm she'd invented. Of course it had a counter-curse. She wasn't stupid. She'd designed it as a healing spell but - as had been demonstrated - it could be used for other purposes and as such needed a counter. Beneath the magic, Bellatrix slowly began to fade in colour. The pain left her gaze, leaving a glassy-eyed look behind. Hermione applied a minor level freezing charm - effectively cooling the blood quickly. She felt a cruel sense of satisfaction as she watched the witch turn from puce to red, red to pink, pink to white and then white to a washed out pale that made her look dead. When her lips began to tremble with cold, Hermione knew she'd achieved her goal. Part of her wanted to now apply the opposite effect - to allow the blood to continue to cool until she died of cold. Not that she could get away with it.
In that moment, looking on the prone and now shivering body of Bellatrix Lestrange, Hermione gained a new understanding for the mentally unstable woman. As she fought the urge to let the bitch die, revelling in her suffering, Hermione wondered if she was any better than Bella. In her mind Bellatrix was scum - lower than the lowest. As such she was vile and horrid and Hermione would delight in her death. Yet to Bellatrix, people like Hermione were exactly that as well. As she fought the urge to execute the bitch, Hermione knew suddenly how it was that the unhinged succubus of a woman could delight in causing pain and suffering.
"Mina?" Snape asked from across the room where he waited with the Dark Lord.
"Si, Papa?" Hermione murmured, aware that she was supposed to be an Italian teenager.
"Will she live?" Rodolphus wanted to know.
Hermione curled her lip back from her teeth in a sneer at the man. She worked hard to arrange her features into a perfect imitation of the expression she'd seen Snape use a thousand times when glaring at Neville for failing at Potions. She could tell from the flash in his eyes that it was effective.
"Unfortunately," Hermione replied, her voice like ice.
He narrowed his eyes at her.
"She'd better, or you won't, girl," he threatened quietly.
Hermione ignored his comment, well aware of the threat to her life. As she looked away, averting her gaze as though he and his wife were something vile, Hermione felt eyes on her and she fought the urge to shudder when Rabastan Lestrange gave her a knowing leer. In his green eyes she could see wickedness and intrigue and she realised with a start that having just gotten the better of Bellatrix in a duel and gotten another man killed had made quite the debut for her into this world of Darkness as Mina Graziana. She felt ill when Rabastan looked very much like he'd enjoy having his way with her. His expression suggested that he thought her a kindred spirit and it occurred to her - based on his comment and his expression - that he was not a fan of Bellatrix.
Hermione realised too that he was probably no stranger to refraining from killing her, much to their mutual distaste. Hermione wondered what it might take to turn him on his sister-in-law and she began to plot as she allowed the tiniest hint of a smile to play at the corners of her mouth before she looked away from him and stalked back across the room towards Snape.
"The counter curse?" Voldemort asked, raising one eyebrow.
"There is no counter, my Lord," Hermione answered stiffly, "I merely used a freeze charm on her blood until her temperature was once again under control. When she returns to normal temperature she will be in agony for some days. I suggest a healing draught and bed-rest. Soon enough she will not be able to move - even to breathe - without agony until the internal damage repairs itself."
"Did you hear her, Rodolphus?" the Dark Lord asked, sounding utterly bored as he addressed the man. Hermione didn't deign to look in his direction.
"Yes, my Lord," the man replied, his voice tight with restrained fury as he scooped his wife into his arms.
"Get her out of my sight," Voldemort commanded, looking disgusted. He shook his head as though pitying, though he appeared far from pleased. "Bellatrix. Bested by a teenager. What next? Mudbloods rising to power over all?"
Hermione saw the smirks on the faces of many of the Death Eaters at his disgusted tone as he commented on her behaviour. It was clear that Voldemort was displeased with Bellatrix. It was also clear she was now in some disgrace with her Lord. Hermione felt a little smirk of her own try to prickle her mouth, but she refrained from showing it. She didn't need to draw any more attention to herself. Instead she emulated the man masquerading as her father, affecting a bored and blank expression and showing no further emotion.
She refused to allow her mind to dwell on the fear over what she had just done. She refused to think about how close she'd come to death. She also tried her hardest to refrain from glancing over to where Ron still hung by his chains. It seemed his dangling form, coupled with the emotional distress of believing her to be dead had overcome him. He had slipped into unconsciousness. Hermione's hand was still clutched in Snape's where he'd dragged her to his side once more and she gave it a very minute twitch before flicking her eyes in Ron's direction.
Hermione watched the way his black eyes looked that way for a fraction of a second in a move so casual that to anyone else it would appear as nothing more than flicking a strand of his greasy hair out of his eyes.
"Rabastan, do tell us who fell victim to the duel," Voldemort demanded, and Hermione allowed her attention to be drawn back to the matters at hand. She tried not to notice the way Greyback was slowly drifting towards Ron.
"Worthington, my Lord," Rabastan answered in a voice that seemed rough with misuse. Hermione wondered if he didn't speak very often. He had the type of voice that suggested he didn't often use it for speaking – and when he did, he did not speak loudly. Hermione envisioned him more like a hissing snake, the type of person to make sure he was well within one's personal space before issuing his threats or voicing his opinions.
"Useless," Voldemort sniffed, "Nagini?"
He hissed something in Parsletongue and the great snake slithered forwards toward the body of the dead man. The followers quivered with a combination of fear, horror, and morbid fascination when it became clear the snake had been given permission to feast on the body of the dead Death Eater.
"Now, Severus, do tell me how you bested Potter's Mudblood?"
Snape blinked at him a moment.
"Killing curse as she fled for her life, my Lord," he answered in a cold and utterly detached voice.
"Your daughter's input on the matter?" he inquired and Hermione knew he was testing her again.
She stayed silent, looking up at Snape who glanced into her face for a moment.
"She was simply with me at the time of summons my Lord and I did not have time to return her to my home before doing your bidding," Snape lied smoothly.
"She did not contribute?"
"No, my Lord."
"And yet Worthington is dead by her hand," Voldemort mused, "Bella would be too, if not for her obedience."
Snape remained silent and so did Hermione. She felt a vicious prod inside her mind that she suspected might be Voldemort trying to penetrate her mind without eye-contact and she renewed the mirror within her mind, praying that it would hold against him. She was no master of Occlumency, but she knew enough to keep someone out unless they were making eye contact.
"Begging your pardon, my Lord," Snape replied in a silky voice, "But Worthington's death was caused by Bella's dodged killing curse."
Voldemort fluttered his fingers as though it was of little consequence.
"Most interesting that you have an illegitimate daughter, Severus," the dark wizard mused and Hermione darted a glance at the man to find him surveying his followers, "However, this is not really about her. Hermione Granger, Potter's faithful mudblood, is dead. His side-kick, Ron Weasley, is in my clutches."
"What of Potter, my Lord?" Snape risked the question. The sharp instrument he'd used to prod Hermione stabbed into her again, warning her to keep silent and pretend she knew nothing of the names and people they spoke of. Hermione did so, her eyes travelling over the many faces of the gathered Death Eaters.
"Potter escaped," Voldemort hissed, clearly furious, "Scabior and Mullens grew over-confident when attempting to bring the boy to me and he slipped through their fingers."
Hermione watched the way several among the gathered Death Eaters shrank back slightly in fear of their Lord's wrath and Hermione knew then that while they might all be scum of the Earth, they were also not loyal to a fault. Loyalty overruled fear, in her experience. Voldemort did not have their complete and incorruptible loyalty. And for Hermione that was very good news.
It meant she would need to err on the side of caution, but if their loyalty was already corrupted by fear for their Lord, then they could be exploited. She took note of those most readily fearful at the displeased hiss in Voldemort's voice. Those would become her first targets. Those would be the Dark Lord's servants whom she would use to bring the bastard down.
