Author's Note: Finals week is coming up very soon for me, so I'm working slower (study, study, study, study, study…), but since I've already put together quite a bit of material to work with, I think I'll still be able to update regularly. Yay!

By the way, I know that this chapter may not be entirely convincing to some of you out there, but if you don't like it, you don't have to read it. Let me know what you think, though, like it or not. I'm only writing this for fun, so I won't be upset, I promise! Read and review :)

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, it is my duty to inform you that neither the characters nor the world in which they live is mine.

III. Pledge of Allegiance

She stood in the center of a dimly lit room. Hooded figures lined the walls. She should have been shaking in fear, but she was perfectly still. Somewhere deep inside her, she was screaming, telling herself that she should leave before it was too late, while she still had a chance to survive.

He would have wanted her to live.

But no, it was already too late. The masked, hooded figures were restless, and she knew that their leader had arrived. The door behind her swung open with a small creak, and she heard his quiet footsteps on the marble floor.

"Granger, what a pleasant surprise."

His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it resounded around the whole room. His black robes swished behind him as he glided past her and turned, red eyes narrowed to slits. He sat in his chair and scrutinized her.

Hermione gritted her teeth, unwilling to show that she was intimidated by him, and dropped her eyes back to the floor. Then an invisible force, most likely the result of a non-verbal spell, shoved the backs of her legs, and she fell painfully to her knees. She did not utter a sound.

"You will kneel before the Dark Lord!" a voice hissed from behind her.

One of the Death Eaters closer to Voldemort stepped forward and handed him a wand—her wand. She trembled slightly, wishing that the wand was in her hand at the moment. But it wouldn't have helped her so much, seeing as she was far outnumbered.

He twirled the 10¾", vine and dragon heartstring wand between his fingertips. "So…"

There was a long pause, and it seemed as though nothing in the room moved or breathed anymore. If Hermione hadn't known any better, she would have thought the Death Eaters were statues. She looked up to see that his eyes were still fixed upon her, calculating.

"…why have you… graced us, with your visit?"

The Death Eaters laughed briefly but were silenced by Voldemort's disapproving expression.

"When I speak, you will answer me."

Hermione steeled herself and spoke. "I want to become a Death Eater."

Suddenly the room was filled with derisive laughter. Voldemort himself even looked amused.

"You? A Mudblood? Do you honestly think that the Dark Lord would even consider honoring you with the Mark?" a loud female voice sounded out.

Hermione located with her eyes the Death Eater who had spoken and knew that it was Bellatrix Lestrange—she recognized that voice and couldn't help but feel a stab of fury that she hadn't been killed in the battle at Hogwarts. Pure loathing filled every ounce of Hermione's being. That monster had performed the Cruciatus Curse on her in this manor, not so long ago.

When the Death Eaters quieted down again, Voldemort spoke. "What have you to offer me?"

The Death Eaters all seemed to hold their breath, stunned that their master was even considering admitting this Mudblood into their ranks. Hermione noticed that Bellatrix had even opened her mouth to speak, but one look from her Lord silenced her.

Hermione's throat and mouth suddenly felt very dry. "The—the members of the Order don't know that I'm here. I can—I can provide you with information, regarding—"

"Now, now, we wouldn't want another vulnerability, like Snape, would we?" said Voldemort, still in that very quiet voice. "Why would you, best friend of that boy, the Potter boy, wish to serve your greatest enemy?"

Hermione felt a probing force enter her mind, and she clenched her jaw. The Death Eaters probably knew what was happening; none spoke as Voldemort flipped through her thoughts—a birthday party, a tense struggle against the Devil's Snare, the letter from Hogwarts, her completely failed attempt to fly a broom.

She started to feel a little dizzy. The barriers had to hold. They had to hold. She focused with all her might on the marble floor in front of her, but it wouldn't stick. She confronted Harry about his lack of progress on the second task. Then she was soaring through the air on Buckbeak's back.

No, Hermione. Focus. The marble floor reappeared but soon disappeared again. She was racing through the Department of Mysteries and raising her wand to Stun a Death Eater—now she was pushing Ron away and warning him not to touch her.

Clearly, the floor wasn't working. She tried to clear her thoughts. The inside of Grimmauld Place flashed inside her mind, and she knew she had to stop him. She resorted to the one image that she knew was burned into her mind and heart for all eternity.

Those silver eyes materialized before her, followed by his beautiful face, framed by tousled, silver-blond hair. She forced herself to recount every detail of that face—defined eyebrows, smooth cheeks, pointed chin, prominent nose, and those soft, soft lips…

And then she was released.

Returning to reality, she felt the cool marble floor against her cheek and realized that she must have fallen. She pushed herself back up to her knees and steadily met Voldemort's unreadable eyes. Why had he decided to let her go?

"Malfoy," he hissed.

The Death Eaters around the room were murmuring now, and Voldemort did nothing to quiet them down.

Bellatrix spoke. "Lucius and Draco were both—"

"Silence!" said Voldemort, raising his voice for the first time since he had entered the room. Everyone was immediately quiet again. He addressed Hermione, "I know why you have come to me. But I will not believe you, not unless you allow me to look inside your mind without hindrance."

Hermione raised her chin defiantly. She had to put on a show if she was to be believed.

"No."

"How dare you—" began one of the Death Eaters, stepping forward, but Voldemort lifted his hand once, and the man stepped back into place.

"How do you expect me to trust you if you will not open your mind to me?"

Voldemort stood up and started walking slowly to the right. Hermione kept her eyes on his now vacant chair and kept her mouth shut. He didn't speak again until he'd walked about halfway around the room.

"Do you expect me to believe that love is the reason why you wish to join me?"

The Death Eaters seemed to shift uncomfortably at the mention of the word.

"Although it would be much more… convenient to dig directly into your brain, I think we would all receive greater pleasure and have a great deal more fun retrieving the answers in a different way."

"What way?" Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I think you know. After all, you are, as they say, the brightest witch of your age." He spat the last few words out with contempt as he completed his first lap around the room and continued walking. Now he addressed the Death Eaters, "Draco Malfoy was killed at Hogwarts. Where is his body?"

"Still at Hogwarts, I think," one of the Death Eaters reported.

There was an ache in Hermione's chest. Had he just been left there to rot when the Death Eaters returned? Unbidden tears accumulated in her eyes, and she forced herself to blink them away.

"Retrieve it."

Two Death Eaters immediately stalked out of the room. Voldemort slowly returned to his seat and fixed his eyes on Hermione. She felt extremely uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze but refused to turn away. She wouldn't back down.

A few minutes later, they were still at a standstill, and to escape the reality of her situation, Hermione thought back to the last time she'd been in the Malfoy Manor.

Bellatrix's eyes fell on Gryffindor's sword, and she stopped Lucius from summoning Voldemort. Hermione couldn't keep her eyes off Draco as Bellatrix gave orders for Harry and Ron to be taken down into the dungeon below. Draco was pointedly looking at anything in the room except Hermione, and she finally tore her eyes away—it would do no good for them to be caught just because she wanted to look at his face.

Then the Snatchers collapsed to the ground, Stunned by Bellatrix, and Draco was ordered to take them outside and leave them to be dealt with later.

"Where did you get this sword, Mudblood?" Bellatrix demanded.

Hermione stayed silent.

"Crucio!" cried Bellatrix.

Hermione's knees buckled, and she writhed on the floor in agony. Before she knew it, she was screaming at the top of her lungs, the pain unbearable. Then, it was over, and she curled up into fetal position.

"Tell me now. Where did you get this sword?"

Still Hermione didn't say a word, and she was rewarded with new waves of pain. She twisted around, clawing blindly at the ground, wishing for a way to escape this pain.

Bellatrix's high-pitched laughter filled her ears, and then the curse was lifted.

"Draco, dear boy, why don't you have a go?"

Hermione managed to look up. Draco was standing in the doorway. His eyes passed over her briefly, and then he walked to his aunt's side. Hermione saw Bellatrix beaming in approval as Draco pointed his wand at her. She looked into his eyes and knew, even though those eyes were stone-cold and devoid of emotion, that he didn't want to do this.

"Crucio," he said in a low voice.

Pain enveloped her again, but this wasn't nearly as bad as Bellatrix's curse had been. She was still able to think coherently about things other than the pain. She thrashed about on the ground, wondering how they would ever escape. Would they escape?

Then the spell was lifted. Hermione lay on the ground, limp, too weak even to curl up.

"Draco boy, you don't seem to have the heart for this," said Bellatrix. "Watch me."

"No!" Hermione cried out. "No, no, no, please! Please, don't."

Bellatrix looked elated. "Tell me now!" she crowed. "It will get much worse for you if you don't."

"The sword—it's a fake. We found it," said Hermione.

"A fake?"

Hermione nodded fervently. Bellatrix turned away and called for Griphook to be brought upstairs. Hermione was shocked—they had captured a goblin? Then she caught Draco's eyes watching her, and she met his gaze. Suddenly she felt warmer, and a soothing feeling washed over her. He must have used a nonverbal spell. She thanked him with her eyes, and he looked away, focusing on the ground instead.

The room was still silent.

Voldemort's eyes were closed now, and she wondered what he could be thinking about. The Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably, and she wondered how long it had been. Could it really take this long to get to Hogwarts? They could Apparate, after all…

Hermione lay in one of two beds in her shared room with Luna, who had also been held captive by the Death Eaters at the Malfoy Manor.

They had reached Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur's home, with plenty of help from Dobby the house elf. Unfortunately, as they were leaving, Dobby was struck in the chest by Bellatrix's knife, and by the time they reached safety, it was already too late for him. Harry was devastated and insisted on digging Dobby's grave on his own, without magic. Hermione and the others could only watch as he dug a small hole in the ground for the small creature that had just saved their lives.

But even as Hermione stood watching Dobby being laid to rest, her mind was filled only with thoughts of Draco. Even now, her thoughts continued to revolve around him. Voldemort had to have arrived soon after their narrow escape, and when he found out that they had gotten away, how would he punish Draco and his family? She shuddered at the thought of him being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse.

She got out of bed and left the cottage, quickly passing the boundary that had been drawn around it to keep the residents safe from intruders.

Then she Apparated to a small flat in Muggle London. This was the place where she and Draco waited in lonely hours, hoping that the other would be able to come. This was the only place in the vast, vast world that was theirs and theirs alone.

Hermione pulled out a small jade pendant. Her mother had given it to her long ago, after a vacation in China. The pendant was part of a pair of matching ornaments, and in fifth year, after casting the Protean Charm on them, Hermione had given one of them to Draco—she'd gotten the idea from the galleons she'd charmed for Dumbledore's Army.

She tapped it with her wand again; she'd done so earlier in the day, but there had been no flash in response. She prayed that everything was all right and began to pace back and forth nervously in the small living room. Then she stopped. She had to calm down, had to sort through her thoughts. The war was only just beginning—they were still searching for Horcruxes, and they wouldn't be on even footing with Voldemort until they removed every object that preserved his immortality.

She stood facing the window, looking blankly into the dark. Rain splattered the window.

A pop alerted Hermione to his arrival, and she smiled.

"Don't you think you should be a little more careful about showing your face?" she heard him say from behind her. His hands rested on her waist as she pulled the curtains shut. She felt his breath on her neck. "Hermione, I'm so sorry."

Hermione turned around in his arms. "You didn't have a choice."

Draco looked impulsive. "I could've just killed my aunt."

Hermione smiled. "I'm sure your parents wouldn't have appreciated that so much."

"Yeah well, I haven't cared much for what they thought ever since you woke me up."

Hermione kissed him lightly. "Did Voldemort punish you for letting us get away?"

"It was just the Cruciatus Curse for me. He was more furious at my dad, and my aunt. They're to be confined to the Manor for some time, taking orders from Fenrir."

Hermione flinched at the mention of that debauched, wicked werewolf, but she didn't comment on it. "Then… what of you?" she asked.

"I'm supposed to be looking for you," said Draco with a small smile. "And Potter and Weasley, of course," he added as an afterthought.

She smiled. "Well, you found me. What're you going to do now?"

"I'm going to hold you like this until I absolutely can't stay any longer. I'm going to kiss you—" he paused to press his lips gently to hers before continuing "—and tell you that I can't live without you, and that I'm never going to leave your side."

"Promise me," whispered Hermione.

"Promise you what?"

"Promise me that you'll never leave me."

Draco smiled. "I promise, I will never, ever leave you."

Hermione was jerked back to reality by a cold voice.

"While we're waiting, I thought you could explain to my followers why you are here."

Hermione remained silent. Suddenly, Voldemort had disappeared from her line of sight, and she could feel his icy breath on the back of her ear. She shuddered despite her effort at remaining calm.

"Now, now, let's not make this unpleasant," he breathed.

Then he was across the room again, approaching his chair.

Hermione gritted her teeth, trying to make it apparent that she was angry, rather than frightened. "I am here because I love Draco Malfoy," she said bluntly.

Startled silence.

"He was murdered tonight, right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it." She struggled to keep her voice completely even. "The person who ended his life… was Harry Potter."

Still there was no detectable response from the Death Eaters. She wondered if they were repressing their reactions because that Voldemort hadn't given them any hints.

"I came here because I want revenge. And not just on Harry—I could have killed him right there in the Forbidden Forest, and no one would have had to know it was me. No, I want to destroy the members of the Order, just one or two at a time, and watch him go through the same hell that I'm going through."

She paused.

"Then, and only then, I want him to die."

These last words she made sure were infused with hatred, hatred that she had started harboring toward Harry from the moment she'd heard him cast that Killing Curse. She borrowed some of the hatred she felt for Bellatrix to make her words sound even more venomous. She wanted each and every being in the room to know that she meant what she said.

The room remained silent, and her eyes remained fixed on the floor.

Voldemort stood up. "Do you believe her?" he asked his following. Again, he began to circle the room. When there was no response, he said, "I would have thought you would be much more insightful. What are your thoughts?"

"I say we torture the girl, and then kill her," said Bellatrix, sounding bloodthirsty.

"Then you do not believe her," said Voldemort.

"She's a filthy Mudblood. I say she lies."

Hermione felt Bellatrix's eyes on hers and remembered how Draco had warned her about his aunt being a talented Legilimens. She immediately repressed the thoughts and memories that she wanted hidden and then balled her fists, bracing herself.

Bellatrix moved through Hermione's childhood memories first, and Hermione winced—she didn't want that vile woman rooting through those precious memories. Then Bellatrix moved on to Hogwarts, flipping through all the fights that Hermione had had with Draco. She skipped forward several years, and then Hermione heard her own words reverberate in her head.

"I love you, Draco Malfoy, with all my heart."

Hermione felt Bellatrix's mind recede from hers and unclenched her fists. She'd remained kneeling upright this time around.

"Well?" Voldemort prompted one of his most loyal Death Eaters.

Bellatrix hesitated, then said, "She's… she's telling the truth.

The Death Eaters were hissing amongst themselves, all in disbelief.

"I saw them… together," said Bellatrix. She turned on Hermione. "How dare you defile my nephew with your touch!"

Hermione glared steadily back at her. "I love him. More than you do at least, I'm willing to bet."

"You insolent wretch!"

Bellatrix lifted her wand, but Voldemort held out a hand, stopping her.

"My Lord, please, let me punish her."

"No, not now," said Voldemort softly. "What did you see?" he asked Bellatrix.

Hermione realized that he had to be asking this for the benefit of all the Death Eaters in the room; he easily could have lifted the answer straight out of his loyal dog without either of them speaking a word.

"She said that she loved him."

"Just that she loved him?"

"With all her heart," Bellatrix spat.

"Really?" said Voldemort. He turned. "Is it true?"

He seemed to be asking Hermione now, but before she could respond, he'd raised the wand in his hands, and she realized with a jolt that it was her wand.

"Crucio!"

Hermione immediately fell to the ground, writhing in pain but holding back her screams. She thrashed around, trying to escape the pain that surrounded her, and death began to seem blissful to her. At least she'd be able to join Draco. The pain surged more intense than before, and she finally screamed, unable to bear it.

She saw his face in her mind, and he was reassuring her with unspoken words.

You can do it. I love you, Hermione. I'll protect you.

The searing pain brought her back to reality, but she didn't feel it as acutely before. Though she continued to writhe uncontrollably, she felt as though a thick blanket had covered her all over, inside and out, and she was somehow less susceptible to the pain.

And then it was over.

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, it's true."

"Please understand, I have to make absolutely certain."

She felt the sting of the Cruciatus Curse from all sides yet again. She cried out and heard herself begging almost unintelligibly for the pain to end. She was floating on the edge of oblivion, and it felt as though someone else was screaming in pain, someone else was rolling around on the ground, twisting and trying to claw their way to freedom.

Then, as the sharp pain faded away to dull throbbing, she wondered why the pain always felt as strong as the first time. Surely one could develop a tolerance?

"I love him," she whispered, a tear rolling from her eye.

She could feel shocked eyes on her, but she didn't move—she felt like she couldn't move, even if she had wanted to.

At long last, the doors banged open.

"What took so long?" Voldemort hissed.

"He was in the woods. The Forbidden Forest—" began one of the Death Eaters, but he stopped after Voldemort shot a glare at him.

Hermione managed to lift her torso off the floor, twisting up into a sitting position.

Draco's body had been placed several feet from her. His robes were in disarray. His silver-blonde hair was smeared with mud, and some leaves were stuck in it. Those beautiful eyes were closed. She would never see them open again…

She reached out to touch his face, but when she was mere centimeters away, she was restricted by an unseen force. Someone was using nonverbal magic to keep her from touching him.

Without looking away from his face, she whispered, "Please."

Even she was surprised by the pain apparent in that whisper. Then the force lifted away from her, and her fingers brushed his cheek. His skin was stone cold. A hot tear slipped from her right eye and made it to the edge of her cheek before dropping to the marble floor.

Everything felt so real now. He was really never coming back.

She kept staring at him, as if expecting him to sit up and tell her that it was all a joke, that Potter had already killed Voldemort, that the Death Eaters were safely locked away in Azkaban, and that they could now be together forever.

"Take him away," Voldemort spoke in that same quiet voice.

Draco was levitated up off the ground and moved out of the room. Hermione felt like she had shattered inside, felt like she was a shell filled with bloody, broken shards of the person she used to be. She blinked once, and another tear escaped her eye. She reached up and wiped it away.

"Turn around and come here."

Hermione stood on shaky legs and turned around, surprised that she still had the strength to support herself. Voldemort was back in his seat. Hermione slowly approached him.

"Kneel."

The Death Eaters waited anxiously—was he really going to make her one of them?

Voldemort held her wand out to the side, and the nearest Death Eater, the one who had given him Hermione's wand at the beginning, retrieved it. Then Voldemort pulled out his own wand and extended his hand, palm up. His eyes had stayed trained on hers the whole time.

Hermione blinked. Then she dropped to her knees and placed her left wrist, forearm facing up, in his open hand. She dropped her gaze from his face to his wand. The tip moved to hover above her arm, and she clenched her jaw.

This was it.

The wand tip pressed into her flesh, and she felt as though her skin was on fire. She hissed in pain as she watched a black trail slowly wind up her arm. This was part of the snake—she could still perfectly picture the Dark Mark on Draco's forearm. Wherever the blackness traveled, her skin seared.

Finally, the snake and skull were complete, and Hermione felt as though she had lost a layer of skin. It still burned, but less severely than before.

"Welcome. You have pledged your allegiance to me. If ever you betray me, I will see to it that you and your family suffer terrible deaths. You may think that they're safer in Australia, without any recollection of having had a daughter, but you never know."

Hermione refused to show her surprise that he knew about her parents. She shifted backward slightly to give herself more room, and he released her arm. She bowed low, her forehead touching the floor.

"Yes, My Lord," she whispered.

"Stand."

Hermione got to her feet. The Death Eaters around the room looked uneasy, but none dared to object to what Voldemort had just done.

"Your first mission is to go back to the Order. Say that you have successfully infiltrated the Death Eaters' ranks, and use the Mark to prove it. To prove your allegiance to me, you are to kidnap any one of the students who escaped alive and bring him—or her—here. You have one week."

"But My Lord—how do you know the Mudblood won't betray us the same way Severus did?"

Bellatrix was the one who had finally plucked up the courage to voice the question that was circling in the mind of each of the Death Eaters.

"Severus… I must admit that I was not completely surprised by his betrayal," said Voldemort. When no one spoke, he elaborated, "I should not have trusted him as I did. He was emboldened to defy me because of Lily Potter. Love, that despicable emotion, seems to win over any sort of reason. Granger will not betray us, not if she wants the Order destroyed and Harry Potter painfully murdered. She is motivated by love for Draco, just as Severus was motivated by love for that woman."

Nothing broke the silence that followed his speech. Finally, he gestured for the Death Eater to return Hermione's wand to her, and she gratefully accepted it.

"Thank you, My Lord," she said.

"Leave now. I expect you to return within one week."

Hermione bowed her head. "I'll be here."

About five minutes later, she arrived at Grimmauld Place. She went straight into the kitchen, just in case Mr. Weasley or Lupin had stayed there—she wanted a chance to talk to them alone about what had happened. But they weren't there, so she went upstairs to her room.

When she saw that Ginny had fallen asleep with the Body-Binding Curse on her, Hermione decided to convince her that it had all been a dream.

"Finite Incantatem," she whispered.

Ginny shifted a little, and then rolled over in her sleep.

After unpacking her backpack and changing into a nightgown, Hermione slid under the covers beside Luna and closed her eyes, hoping to get some rest.