Sorry for any awkward phrasings or little spare bits… Hymnophile told me she had a busy week up ahead and I really didn't want to bother her. I had the lovely EmMcD_Black look this over for me and you can blame her for any errors. I originally meant for this to be about three times longer but then I realized it was already quite long enough and… You'll just have to wait a little longer for Draco. Sorry! This needed to be done.
Chapter Three
Playing Games
Hermione was surprised that morning to find not a sour-faced Bellatrix but instead an anxious-looking Lucius leaning over her and shaking her shoulder. She sat up blearily and he took her hand, not meeting her eyes.
"My Lord?" she asked cautiously. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek or… something… and she found him pulling her tightly into his arms, pressing his face into her loose hair.
She sat very still as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo and ran his hands down her back. He held her for what seemed like an eternity, and she barely dared to breathe. He was in one of his moods again – they always frightened her because they never meant anything good.
Finally, he released her, his mouth in a tight line and his eyes worried.
"Is everything alright?" she asked in a small voice, pulling her legs out from under the covers slowly.
"The Dark Lord wishes to see you today," he said flatly. "This afternoon."
Hermione froze. She should have expected it. It only made sense that Voldemort would want to see her. What did she think, that the Dark Lord had let Lucius take her for his pleasure only? No, she'd known from the beginning she had to be more than just a sex slave. She'd been here for about a month, so really it was about time… It was just that Lucius had lulled her into a false sense of security, not even letting Bellatrix touch her. Shame washed through her when she realized she'd started feeling relatively safe here. Harry would have berated her for letting her guard down. Especially around two hardened Death Eaters.
She realized that Lucius was still looking at her intently, twisting his hands in his lap. "Oh," she managed faintly. She didn't feel particularly frightened – she barely felt anything at all. Just numb shock. How would a normal person react? Fear. She should be afraid.
He caught her chin and forced her to look up at him. "Hermione?"
She didn't try to pull away. "What time?"
"Three." He looked away again, like he couldn't meet her eyes for too long. "He wants you there promptly at three. Bellatrix will help you get ready. You need to look your nicest to meet him. He's not too fond of having a… a mudblood in his private quarters."
Define looking my nicest. Knowing him, she'd still be dressed like a slut. Cold revulsion swept through her when she realized that she wouldn't be safely – ugh. Safety again – in the confines of the Manor, but would be around other Death Eaters – other men. And there was no guarantee that Lucius would be with her the whole time.
Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.
"What does –" Her voice rasped. She cleared her throat, and realized it had gone dry. "What does he want from me?"
"What do you expect, Granger?" He sneered at her and got to his feet. "My beloved sister-in-law will be in momentarily. I suggest that you are ready for her this time so as to avoid her antagonistic side. Please do not keep us waiting today. You overslept. We are on a schedule."
She just barely resisted scowling, but felt almost relieved that the old, commanding Malfoy was back. She didn't trust him when he had his walls down. While he may have considered himself more approachable, she found him to be more unpredictable and, consequently, much scarier that way.
"Yes, My Lord," she murmured, sliding all the way out of bed. He stood at the same time, and he headed for the door as she headed for the pile of clothes that she expected would be at the end of her bed.
There were none.
My beloved sister-in-law will be in momentarily.
Hermione sighed and sat back down to wait for Bellatrix. She bit her lip, and worried a strand of hair. Voldemort. Lucius wanted her to meet Voldemort. She wanted to tell herself that she was being stupid; she'd known this, she'd expected this. If anything, she should be surprised that it had taken so long for the meeting to be arranged. She wasn't scared or anything. Just numb.
She wished she'd made Harry teach her more Occlumency. How many times had she gotten on his case about not practicing it well enough? She'd told him to go beg Snape for additional lessons; she'd nagged him about practicing it not only every waking moment but every sleeping moment as well; she'd been unsympathetic when his unwanted connection with Lord Voldemort had shown him horrible things. Now, Hermione Granger had to admit that she'd been foolish. Occlumency was one of the few disciplines that she hadn't insisted upon learning herself. And oh, did she regret it.
Maybe… No, it was too horrible a thought. She couldn't let herself think about that. She was embarrassed even to say that it made her hopeful. But maybe. Just maybe… Maybe Harry would see her in his dreams. Maybe he'd be able to tell Ron that she was okay. Although, she wouldn't be okay. Not in whatever dreams Harry did have. She was mortified. She'd begged him to block such images from his head at all costs. Now here she was, hoping that it would happen.
The door swung open and she almost screamed. She clapped her hand to her mouth and tensed her whole body, wishing for the millionth time that she was allowed her wand. She'd been expecting Bellatrix. Not… this.
The figure in the doorway wore long, flowing black robes that swirled around her ominously. The hem and the edges of the sleeves were embroidered in a slithering silver design, one that shifted into grotesque shapes with every movement of the rich black material. The long cape that pooled at the woman's feet was thick, heavy, and almost worn. Bellatrix had even thought to put the deep hood up. It was a nice touch. Under the hood was a silver glimmer – a result of the ornate mask that curled around her eyes, covered her nose, moved across her cheeks. Her dark eyes glittered with excitement and malice. It made Hermione's stomach turn.
She'd forgotten that Malfoy and Bellatrix would be in full regalia to meet their master. If she were being perfectly honest, they were much scarier this way than when they dressed in normal clothes, or even… No clothes. The Death Eater outfits sort of stripped away their humanity.
Not, of course, that they had any humanity.
God.
"Oh, don't look at me like that, Mudblood," Bellatrix scowled, holding up a pile of clothes. "You don't have to act like I'm the most disgusting thing in this room because I know for a fact that I'm not." She pushed down the hood, and her hair fell loose around her shoulders. Ripping off the mask, she looked at Hermione in disdain. "Don't you look peachy this morning? Stop looking so confident. The Dark Lord doesn't like it when the vermin don't respect him right."
Hermione prickled, but held her tongue. Bellatrix was not in the mood to be annoyed today.
"Here." The woman flung the robes at her. "Put these on while I get your things ready in the bathroom. Lucius doesn't trust you to get yourself ready today. You're representing him, remember. If he can't get his whores in order, he brings shame to himself." She swept away and Hermione looked skeptically at the robes she held in her hands.
Black. Of course. What else did she expect? But a finer material than one might guess that Lord Voldemort would allow someone so lowly to wear. They were fitted, too. The silk slid smoothly and tightly over her body when she pulled it on. Long sleeves glittered with tiny jewels, a skirt swished to her feet. The neckline was, of course, indecently low, and there was something about the way that it clung to the curves in her torso that made her uncomfortable.
"You done yet?" Bellatrix stuck her head out the bathroom door and scowled. "Come on."
Dully, Hermione let Bella do her hair and makeup. She really did prefer doing it herself. Bellatrix always yanked the comb too hard, and wasn't careful around her eyes with the mascara wand or the eyeliner.
The door opened and another tall, robed, masked figure stepped in. She had to fight back her revulsion. Sure, it was easy to pretend like Lucius Malfoy was merely a scary man when he was just around the house, but when he was a Death Eater she had to remember all the things he'd actually done to her, to her friends. To… her family. Her hands curled into fists when he laughed softly.
"Look at you, both looking so beautiful." He held out a gloved hand. "May I?"
Bellatrix poked Hermione hard in the ribs and she forced herself to slip her bare hand into his. The silk of his gloves was cold and smooth.
He pulled her to her feet and she guessed from the way that he turned his head that he was looking over to Bellatrix. "Are you ready, too?" he said, almost coldly.
She straightened her robes and put a powder compact down onto the long, marble counter. "Ready when you are."
It was late April. A cool breeze blew straight through her clothes when they stepped out the front door, and positively chilled her to the bone. Almost gently, Malfoy pushed up the hood of her dress and pulled her closer to him, tucking his cape around her shoulders. She shivered again, this time at being pressed up against his body like that.
There was a car waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. All three of them slid into the back seat, and Malfoy tapped the glass that separated them from the driver. This, Hermione was used to. They'd gone out like this before, always in the same sleek, black car, always sitting on the same plush row of seats, and never speaking to the driver. She couldn't see out the windows, but that was normal too, as she sat sandwiched between Malfoy and Bellatrix.
But when the car started moving, she didn't recognize the direction in which it was going. She'd almost memorized the feel of the drives to the houses of Malfoy's various cronies. They'd never gone this way before. The realization made her heart skip a beat.
Voldemort. She was going to meet Voldemort.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on keeping her breathing even. The silk around her fingers contracted when Lucius squeezed her hand gently. She didn't let herself think too much about it. If she weren't about to hyperventilate, she might have let herself wonder about this nicer side of Death Eater Malfoy.
The ten-minute drive felt like it took an eternity. Bellatrix grabbed her arm roughly and dragged her out of the car as soon as it stopped.
"You'll be walking behind Lucius," she muttered, yanking Hermione's dress to get rid of the wrinkles from sitting down. "You are not to make eye contact with anyone until you are addressed." She tweaked a strand of hair that hung in Hermione's face, and wiped her thumb under her eye to get rid of an eyeliner smudge. "Don't speak out of turn, and if you value your life do what you are asked for once."
The door on the other side of the car slammed and Malfoy swept toward the tall, marble staircase. Bellatrix curled her fingers tightly around Hermione's upper arm and they hurried after him. The heels of her unfamiliar shoes clicked against the cold, white stone. Their rhythm was a sharp, uneven staccato that seemed to echo the thrumming of her heart in her throat.
The massive double doors opened automatically into a wide, high-ceilinged hallway. Their every step echoed loudly and Hermione was forcibly reminded of the huge, echoing churches she'd seen when she'd spent a summer in France with her parents. She was sure Voldemort had the hall built like that on purpose – he'd know anyone who was coming or going.
Bellatrix's fingers dug almost painfully into her arm as they stopped in front of two mammoth oak doors. Lucius reached out for the heavy gold ring and knocked three times.
One of the doors creaked open just barely wide enough for one person to enter.
"Come!" The high, cold voice made Hermione's scalp prickle. She didn't just hear it with her ears. He was everywhere, inside her head, under her skin.
A shiver ran through her whole body as Lucius pushed through decisively. Bellatrix next, dragging Hermione roughly behind. She played her part well, tripping over the hem of her skirt, almost falling to the floor, and keeping her face hidden, her head down. She didn't dare to look around the room, but the brief glimpse of it that she saw wasn't promising. It was dark – torches lined the walls at odd intervals and the flickering light was so gloomy that no one would have guessed it was bright and sunny outside. The ceiling here was just as high as in the hall, and the room was huge, gloomy. In the center stood a tall, white chair, and atop the chair sat a pale figure in dark robes. She halted, unwilling to move forward.
Bellatrix shoved her forward and she fell in a heap on her knees, her hands smacking so painfully against the parquet floor that tears sprang in her eyes.
"Well, well, well," the voice sighed gratingly. Her ears cringed at the sound of his laugh. "Looks like Lucius has managed to tame the Mudblood after all. Who would have thought it?"
There was a low rumble from all sides. Hermione peeked up her head just enough to see that she was kneeling in the middle of a circle of sycophantically chuckling Death Eaters, crouched at the feet both of her Lord Malfoy and of Lord Voldemort. She ducked her head, partly in fear, partly in mortification.
"Oh, go on, Hermione," said Voldemort, not unkindly. "I hate to see you sunk down to this level. From what I heard, you were brave. Prove it. Look at me, girl. Look at me."
She forced her eyes back up at him, and almost looked away in disgust. She'd never seen him before, never faced him. She felt like a coward when she realized how many times Harry had faced this… this man. This thing. He was truly a monster, with his too-pale, snakelike face, his head bald, his lipless mouth curled into a vicious smile, his glittering eyes trapping hers and forbidding her to look anywhere else. She stared long and hard into those eyes, and felt him probing her, testing the connection he'd made with their locked gazes, almost worming his way into her head. She shivered again. Occlumency. Occlumency! She screamed at herself. Where was Harry when she needed him most?
"Tut, tut," Voldemort said dismissively. "Still thinking about Potter, are you? Wouldn't you think that's ungrateful after all Lord Malfoy has done for you?" He looked away and Hermione swayed on her knees, trying hard not to pitch forward on her face. "What do you say, Lucius?"
"She misses her friends," he said, in an oddly strangled voice. "More than once I've caught her trying to contact them. I must say that her insistence to be reunited with them does make her more… distant."
"Oh, but this is interesting." Voldemort twirled his wand between his long, white fingers, and Hermione flinched. He laughed coldly. "Dear girl, do you really think we would hurt you? After all, you could be so valuable to us. Has Lucius not told you that? I'm disappointed in him." He waved behind him. "Look, we've even brought you a present."
She dragged her eyes from his face to his left, where another man in black was striding forward, dragging a stooped woman who was dressed very much as she was. The man dragged her head up roughly, and all the breath left Hermione's body in a whoosh.
Her mind raced through its various catalogs.
Emmeline Vance: Last seen December 16 of the previous year. Presumed dead by Order members. Missing from her job at the Ministry. Body unrecovered.
And her physical appearance: Her dress in the same black material as Hermione's. Low cut to show a crest stamped into her left breast. Head bent low, eyes on the ground. Hands behind her back, held roughly between the long fingers of the Death Eater who stood behind her.
Emmeline had suffered the same fate as she had.
Hermione's pulse sped up. Emmeline had been missing for four months now, and they'd presumed her dead even without a body. Would Harry and Ron think that she was dead? Her head spun; she swayed where she knelt and looked down at the floor.
Voldemort laughed softly. "See someone familiar, Miss Granger? We thought you might appreciate having a friend."
Emmeline's eyes flashed up to where Hermione kneeled, and she paled. The two women shared a look that did not go unnoticed by any of the Death Eaters. The masked man behind Emmeline forced her head back down, and Lucius fidgeted beside Hermione. A murmur swept through the circle.
Is this why I'm here? So that they can mock me?
"I suppose you're wondering why you're here," Voldemort said, as if he picked the thought directly out of her mind. "I would be lying to you if I said that this meeting wasn't more than a meet-and-greet."
His casual tone made her grit her teeth. "Just tell me what you're going to do with me," she growled. "Don't play with me."
She expected Voldemort to curse her for impudence, but he merely looked at her thoughtfully. "Well played, my dear. Getting the games out of the way will make this so much easier." He stroked his wand threateningly, right in her line of sight. "I have a few questions, of course."
"I'm not telling you anything about Harry," she lied. If he wanted the information, he would pick it straight out of her brain. She wouldn't be able to stop him.
"Of course you won't." He was still smiling, almost gloatingly. "The brave Gryffindor would never betray her friends."
Fingers dug tightly into her shoulder; she looked up quickly to see Lucius gripping her as if for support. Emmeline's eyes flickered up again for the briefest of moments. She looked at Hermione questioningly before she was forced back down.
Hermione did her best not to look away when he met her eyes again. "So I don't suppose you'll tell me what he and the blood traitor brat are doing locked up in the House of Black?"
"No, My Lord."
"Not even a little clue?" Instead of getting angry, as she expected, he only smiled wider.
"I suppose they're doing their best to figure out how to defeat you using only Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products."
He flicked his wand casually. She cringed, but instead of feeling pain, she heard screaming. She looked around, confused, and saw Emmeline writhing under what could only be the Cruciatus Curse, her wrists still clamped in the iron fetters of her master's hands. She couldn't fall to the ground so she hung, limply, almost suspended by her wrists, twitching.
It made Hermione's stomach turn. So this was the game that Voldemort wanted to play?
She didn't look away from Emmeline until she stopped screaming. Panting, she looked up and her eyes met Hermione's. They were still strong, still defiant. The message was clear: Keep lying.
"And how does Potter spend most of his time, Hermione?"
She looked guiltily up at Emmeline, who offered her a thin smile. Trying very hard not to let her voice shake she said, "Well, I'm not sure, My Lord. He spends most of his time in his room with the door locked. Ron and I hear strange noises sometimes, and we don't think we want to know."
More shrieking, longer this time.
"I'm disappointed in you, Hermione," Voldemort said languidly. "How are the other Order members doing?"
She forced her chin up and scowled. "You mean like Emmeline? Oh, they're doing spectacularly. They just love being trussed up and made into playthings."
Voldemort's eyes flashed and Emmeline wailed. Tears streamed down her face and the Death Eater dropped her unceremoniously into a heap on the floor, where she lay, twitching violently. The world seemed to turn at a funny angle, and Hermione had to take a few deep breaths. She thought she might be sick.
Lucius forced her chin up. She met his eyes under the mask, and they flashed a warning at her. "Behave," he mouthed. She swallowed hard. Bellatrix had warned her not to be disrespectful. She could only imagine how he would punish her later on.
"You seem rather ungrateful to be alive, don't you think? If you prefer not to be – ah – trussed up and made into a plaything, I'm sure we could arrange something else. Would death suit you better? Or we could give you to Fenrir. He's been positively longing for fresh meat. He would be quick, I promise you."
"No, My Lord," she murmured. Fenrir Greyback. He'd mutilated Bill's face. He'd ruined Remus' life. He'd done unspeakable things to countless innocent children.
"Oh, so you admit that you enjoy being with Lucius? Does he please you?"
Her cheeks burned. "My Lord Malfoy performs adequately in bed."
"Hear that, Lucius?" Voldemort chuckled. "You're merely adequate. I wonder if Narcissa would have said the same. A pity she couldn't be with us today."
Malfoy's fingers were so tight on her shoulder that she gave a little gasp and tried to squirm away.
"I'm sure Narcissa would not have cared to see a Mudblood whore in her house," he said coolly. "It is perhaps well that she is gone, so that she does not have to see our family name tainted by such filth."
The tears that welled in Hermione's eyes this time were inexplicable. She knew Malfoy didn't care for her. Why did it hurt so much to have him ridicule her in public? It was only what she deserved, after disrespecting him.
"I do believe you're hurting her feelings," Voldemort said dryly. "I hope you haven't become too attached to your pet, Lucius. You know she is dispensable."
"Of course, My Lord." His fingers loosened a fraction.
"Now Hermione. Your answers are quite amusing, but this question is serious this time, so I need you to listen very closely. What task did dear old Dumbledore leave behind for your Golden Boy?"
Her insides turned to ice. "Dumbledore wants Harry to find and defeat the Crumple-Horned Snorkack," she said solemnly.
Emmeline let out the worst scream yet – even some of the Death Eaters turned away uncomfortably. A little sob rose in the back of Hermioine's throat, but she ignored it, meeting Voldemort's eyes squarely as he smirked at her. His gaze flickered between her and Emmeline, watching as she paled, as she swayed, as she struggled to keep her focus.
"Stop! Please!" she finally screamed. "You're hurting her."
He lifted his wand and the screaming turned into sniffling, but he didn't seem perturbed. "That is the point, Hermione. And besides, it's only mental. I'm not hurting her physically."
"I don't care," she said stiffly. "I don't want people to be tortured in my name. If you're so upset with me, why don't you curse me yourself?"
"No!" Emmeline cried. Tears were running down her face, making tracks in her thick makeup. She pushed a limp, sweaty strand of hair off her neck. "No, Hermione. You're too valuable."
"You've proved yourself very amusing game, Miss Granger," Voldemort said, waving Emmeline and her Death Eater away absently. "It's no wonder that Lucius is attached to you. I'm sure any in my circle would be pleased to claim you as his own."
She didn't know what to say to that.
"I'll let you get away with your toy answers this time," he went on, "but next time you might not be so lucky. You're not completely indispensable, and I'm afraid I can't afford to waste much more time." He looked up at Lucius. "You may go, now. Thank you for coming."
Lucius bowed forward deeply, leaning hard on Hermione before he rose and helped her to her feet. She stood stiffly, her knees protesting. "Thank you, My Lord."
He led her out of the room, and Bellatrix trailed sulkily behind them. Hermione wondered faintly if the woman had been hoping Hermione herself would suffer for wrong answers. She felt sick inside. She'd caused Emmeline so much pain. It was a hard line to walk – protecting Harry, or keeping others from harm? They'd all taken a vow before they could join the order – Harry would come first. She'd never thought she'd have to execute it.
Lucius came to a stop when they stood out on the marble steps, and she leaned heavily into his arm, still weak at the knees from kneeling and from nerves. "Avery," he said. She realized they'd reached another Death Eater.
"Malfoy," Avery said silkily. "I trust the invitation still stands?"
"Of course. I don't know if you want to take your…" Lucius had pulled his hood down, and she saw his eyes flicker distastefully to the bundle of robes at Avery's feet. She realized with a pang that Emmeline was bound to Avery. "Your companion home before you stop by."
"No, it's quite alright." He looked down at Emmeline, unconcerned. "Miss Vance would probably do well to have the company of a fellow slut, isn't that right?" Hermione bristled. "Oh, does that bother you?" He chuckled. "You picked a real lion, Lucius. Ever the Gryffindor. Ever the temptress."
Malfoy squeezed her fingers briefly. "I do hope that I should have the finest taste," he said haughtily. "You can Apparate, if you wish, or you can follow our car. We will meet you back at the Manor." Tugging Hermione after him, and ever trailed by Bellatrix, he swept down the steps to the car.
"What was that about?" Hermione murmured.
"Avery's invited himself for dinner. He supposes he has news of some importance to share with us."
So that's that... I'm wondering. Here's a little poll. Harry and Ron are quite busy right now, and the outline is full of their little adventures. But there's no room in the actual story for more than a few rumors to meet Hermione's ears. Are you interested in a side chapter about the boys? Or maybe a little one-shot? Or MAYBE I could write one up tomorrow and dole it out as a little present for anyone who reviews. Something to think about. Let me know...
Let's try for ten reviews this time? Love you all! Thanks for reading.