~*~Captivity~*~

The king had left her alone in a fairly opulent room, with a large four poster bed and huge circular rugs with actual gold thread in the runic designs. The chandelier that hung from hooks along the dome ceiling was lit bright enough to cast a warm glow over the whole room and the tall bookcases set against the far wall. Across from the door was a bay window and from the seat she could see the lake in the distance, the very same one that could be seen from the ballroom balconies. The desk a few feet to the right of that window sat beneath yet another, stocked with ink and parchment. A letter sat atop the neat desk, wrapped in a length of red cloth.

Persephone had already promised not to cause trouble so long as he made good on the promise of a wand and also let her see the children. The king had smirked at her yet again and cryptically told her she would have all the time she wished with them. It was nearly lunchtime and the sun was beaming down through the small skylight at the center of the dome, casting strange shapes through the chandelier.

She hadn't done much since he put her in this room and he wouldn't tell her what happened after he rescued her or what had happened to Severus before he sent him away. She wondered if she could use her wand to find out when he gave it to her. If he gave it to her. The desk was far enough out of the sun that she felt drawn to it and she sat in the chair softly.

Why is he keeping me? Where is Severus really? Why can't I talk to him?

Does he know?, her other self asked and she felt a burst of fear and uncertainty in her stomach. Does he know who I am?

She went to rest her head against the desk and met the letter instead. Sighing, she opened it up.

I live, she read quietly to herself. The fear climbed a few notches and she rolled the paper out flat. She knew the words and the handwriting, she knew the feel of the paper and she most definitely knew the face on the wanted poster behind the letter.

That's me, her other self gasped and Persephone pushed away from the desk, stumbling to her feet and putting distance between her and the proof of her other self's existence.

Hermione Granger, the poster says. He knows! He knows!

Calm down!, Hermione ordered firmly and Persephone sat still. Just because he has this letter and that poster doesn't mean he knows for sure. We have to pretend we're confused by it. We have to play for time until we can contact Severus.

Severus is in Germany. He can't help us.

Severus will come. We just need to get a letter to him.

She went back to the desk and swept the incriminating evidence aside, pulling a fresh bit of parchment and a quill out. She opened her inkwell and began to write, but every word she wrote came out wrong. She had to send something Severus would understand and Voldemort wouldn't.

What I need is a patronus.

A knock came at her door and she rushed over, hoping to maybe confront the king for more information, but a small foot wide hole appeared and a tray floated in. It was carrying a large salad with chicken breast and egg. Persephone pressed her face to the hole, but she only heard a man speak.

"Lunch is served!" The squeaky man lifted his hand and she called out.

"Wormtail! Wormtail!" He didn't reply and Hermione cut in rudely. "Peter!"

Silence met her ears and Persephone tried to change her angle at the hole to see more, but all she could see were the buttons on his waistcoat. Desperately, she pushed her hand through the hole. The buttons were worn and slippery, but she caught one and tugged.

"Is Severus in Germany?"

"Germany? Why would he be in Germany?"

So the king lied! That little-, Persephone yanked Hermione back on track. "No reason! I just thought I heard the king say it. Can you do something for me?"

"No!" He yelped and tried to take a step back, but she held on to the only leverage she had, which was sewn down very well. "The dark lo-king, he'll punish me for speaking to you."

"No, he won't! It's harmless, really. Just a letter to let Severus know I'm alright. Can you come get it at dinner?"

"I...I..."

"Please?" She softened her voice and closed her eyes. "I won't ask for anything else. Just, please!"

"I can't!" A metal hand closed over her own and she winced.

"If we were in love, wouldn't I/you/I want to know I was alright?" She crossed the fingers on her other hand and waited. It felt like ages, just listening to his breathing and enduring his strong metallic grip, but finally he sagged slightly.

"One letter?"

"Yes! Just one and I won't ask for anything else. I swear, Peter. Thank you." Slowly, she opened her hand and he paused before doing the same.

"The king says you'll get to visit the children soon. They'll bring books and you'll get to teach them." Wormtail said this as an aside and the hole in the door vanished as soon as her arm was back in the room.

Lavender was showing the new guy around the park and Slughorn kept pointing out plants of value as Neville led him around the same path. Dolores had decided to stay in for the day and Horace had been going stir-crazy anyway, so Neville offered a guided tour. The potions master leapt at the chance far faster than he had anticipated.

"And so, there were three of us in this cattle cart, chained and gagged, as I told you, and here comes that broken-jawed lout Mason. He says, quite loudly from a hovering broom, that we're destined for Zaschas, which we were then informed was a-"

"Snatcher jail, I know. We got forty people out of there Monday." Neville poked his toe at a toad and it hopped away. Trevor got lost at the school ages ago. He hadn't seen him since.

"How many living?" Slughorn didn't sound the least bit troubled by what he already knew, but his eyes were haunted.

"Ten." Neville had been well enough to lift bodies and dig graves. There just seemed to be so many.

"Did you mass them together? Mason would toss the whole lot in one hole and call it done." Slughorn shivered and Neville made himself remember the story of what came before all he was being told now.

Slughorn had been taken not long after Gryffindor had been disbanded. He had already resigned from the school by then and had moved into a house in the same neighborhood as Hermione's parents. He was safe for all of a month before the attacks started. Muggle killings hadn't happened in such magnitude since the First War. Slughorn had barely been able to get out of his house alive, but then he had been captured. He had been passed from hand to hand, group to group for months as they decided what to do with him.

Once, he had been taken to the Tavern, a depraved pub for the darkest of wizards, where fugitives or undesirables were put in hanging cages dotted over the open room. The rules were simple: anything but death. Horace had spent two weeks in that place. Not as long as a girl named Maggie, who was fifteen. She had been a popular target in the Tavern and had only been able to say thank you when spoken to. Horace had wept himself into silence as he recounted the story and Neville had taken him over to Dolores' for a nice cup of spiked tea. It took a couple days, but he had been able to resume his tale.

After he had been bought from the Tavern's resident Snatcher leader, he had been locked back in chains and given to Mason's old group, who liked to make their prisoners ply their trade until they couldn't and then sell them for a high price or kill them outright. Slughorn had been forced to craft healing potions and pepper-up, anything that Mason's group thought was useful or valuable. He had tried to sneak in poisons and so on, but they did a thorough check by selecting a single potion out of the thirteen and giving it to one of the worthless prisoners. If the potion was bad, the person would die and they would lock Horace up in solitary with the body for a week.

Neville had had to lope an arm around his old professor's shoulders and help him to a chair. Horace wouldn't look at a cauldron without shaking and transfiguring something into a completely different thing.

"Separate graves for separate souls." Neville pointed out a part of the garden they were just starting to cultivate. He planned to mention it until Slughorn offered to help till the earth and plants the seeds. Anything to get the man's mind off of the horrors he had experienced.

Lavender came by laughing, pointing out a sculpture and the fountain it sat upon. Wilbur, the new guy, with his brown hair and affable personality had the pink high in Lavender's cheek and a slight hop in her step. Neville wondered if that was a good thing, then had to berate himself for such dark thinking. Happiness in this horrible time should be cherished not questioned.

Neville chuckled to himself at the thought of explaining that to Ron.

With school resuming, Severus was busier than ever and the students were adding to his pile of disks, talking endlessly about the recruiting revel that was to take place the night after graduation. All those that wished to take the vows and the mark would be able to do so as soon as they were officially declared suitable by the ministry. He suspected many more boys like young Dorian from the Yule Ball preparations and many young women similar to Astoria Greengrass would come flocking to their ultimate doom. Time would tell.

His visits to the Nest had become more frequent and he spent a lot of time playing the go-between for Moody and his various outside allies, which now included Ariel Boudin. Severus' position as the King's right hand had made him look very tempting for all those still willing to fight the darkness. It was like the First War all over again.

It had been a week since he had spoken to Lily and a half dozen more days since he had laid eyes on Persephone. The Malfoys knew little, though Draco had begun dividing his time for the king and set aside a good chunk of his time for testing horcruxes. There wasn't much to do, but they did use Draco's constant lessons with the man to see if attacking one of his horcruxes would alert him. So far, there had been nothing, but Draco often spoke of the king's distracted state. Well, that and the mysterious lack of mudbloods while he was there. Wormtail was high strung and increasingly busy, his path from the kitchen to the dome above the ballroom used far too much and way off his normal routine. Draco hadn't yet been able to sneak into the room to find out what was happening.

Severus wondered..., but no, there was no way she let herself be captured. She should still be healing from her torture. The king hadn't allowed him to see her since she had been declared stable by the Healer on duty at the time and he couldn't run opposite to the king's demands. Not now, when the world was going to the dogs all around them and the wizarding world's war was just another bad thing in a list of them. He would speak with Draco when he got a chance. There had to be something they could do to ensure Hermione, or Persephone, was safe.

But what if she was hostage to the king? What if he had finally found them out? They had not planned for the occasion of being caught and though she had not revealed anything to Rodolphus that he could tell, the king was not his servant and Rodolphus was not the only man with an appetite for torture. He dreaded to think what horrors the king would use against the best friend of Harry Potter, a link to a past he would like better forgotten, a light in his never-ending dark.

The Carrows had begun what he feared they would when the takeover had been confirmed. Their classes were now divided between teaching the most select and bias bit of history and theory and having their students training for actual wizard-on-muggle combat, including but not limited to studies into the muggles weaknesses and habits as well as their effect on sympathetic wizard folk. It was like watching decades of human rights go down the drain. But it wasn't anything new.

Neither was the reinstatement of guards around the perimeter of Hogwarts. They had been designated Defenders of the Realm with all the pomp afforded the appointment of a relative round table of fallacy. They even had special robes and masks to denote their importance over the trees and the bowtruckles they paced beside. Their presence undermined his own control and was turning his school into a military run prison camp. They were installing new wards around the outside of the already established ones and making it impossible for anyone not marked to enter. When the school year ended, because they all knew this war would still be waging, they would open a small portal on the path out of the castle grounds and allow the children to pass.

The only saving grace was that the new ward was using the old as a base. Severus would put this knowledge to good use.

France and Boudin had declared themselves for the king and he had brought with him Spain and Canada. It appeared that the ruse of fellowship appeased the king and Severus was granted the task of tackling the rest of the world while his newly acquired silver tongue still possessed some trickery. Once the closing feast had been dealt with and the children loaded back onto the train, he was to try for Germany. After that, he guessed it would be another terrible chain of connecting Portkeys until he made his way to some other intelligent country where the gates were closed to men without noses.

His head was throbbing and he didn't feel up to making the trip to his stores. Severus gathered his research into horcruxes, which was buried beneath a mound of golden disks, and started instead for the fire. Burning low and steady, the flame gobbled up the parchment he fed into it and when he deemed it high enough, Severus cast Floo powder into it and spun his way to his manor.

Persephone had spent two weeks pacing around her dome prison, only being allowed out to meet with the children in a preordained room after having been escorted there by the same group of witches and wizards she had run from when she woke. She was also free to roam the grounds, under heavy guard or in the company of the king. She felt like a criminal.

Her robes weren't familiar and it was a curious shade of grey or in some cases a solid black. The room where she met the children had bars on the windows and a visible ward outside that. On the lower levels, where she could take off running out an open door if she had the nerve, there were Devil's Snares and even more wards. Sometimes, she wondered if the king left those doors open on purpose. Sometimes, she wondered what he would do if she chanced a breakout despite the traps. And every once in a while, like today, her other self decided to test those thoughts.

As Martis, who stared too much at one thing, (today being her lips), led her past the garden door with the filigree and vines, Persephone felt her other self burst through and suddenly she was running for the door. Shouts echoed behind her and she dodged a spell or two, then she passed through the threshold and leapt over the highest part of the Devil's Snare. Her landing was softer than she expected, but that was mostly because she had fallen on even more of the creeping plant. Prior experience had taught her to relax and she went limp in the plant's embrace. She sunk down to what she hoped was the ground, but instead she slipped through the vines and fell a few feet to hard stone.

Yaxley was waiting for her.

"Well, now we know you've at least got that much remembered. Hello, Hermione."

Persephone tried to back up, away from the open cell door and the obvious trap that was offered freedom, but she bumped into a thin red barrier. Yaxley laughed.

"Milord says you're to stay here for a day or two, to remind you of your place. On your knees, wasn't it?" He pointed to her position, kneeling on the stones and before she could stand, he had closed the door and walked away.

She waited three days after that to try again. This time, it was the bathroom across from the room where the children were reading about the Portrait of the Fat Lady. This was ground floor as well and she could see out of one of the small pipes to the grounds. Persephone waited until she was quick enough to filch a wand before she made that attempt.

First, she sent a patronus, which raised her spirits for all of a minute. Wormtail hadn't told her if her letter had made it to Severus or, indeed, if he had done what he had promised. Then, because there wasn't anything for it, she got to work.

The pipe had to be expanded to fit her body and she was fumbling because she had the offhand thought that the king might have wards detecting unauthorized magic, but she managed to slip into the small tunnel and begin a shimmy down. She got as far as the middle of the pipe before a long, hissing snake came crawling up the open end and, despite many spells, she was forced to backpedal to the bathroom on her hands and knees.

The king was waiting for her this time.

"Nagini, come." He said it in English, but there was a hissing undertone to it. The snake that chased her back up the pipe slithered to the king's feet. "Well done." It was obvious he wasn't talking to Persephone.

"Why are you keeping me here?"

"I've explained that and I do not plan on repeating myself. Haven't you a lesson to finish?" He turned to leave and she followed.

"You haven't given me the wand you promised!"

"Seeing what it is you mean to do with one," the king stared at her unblinking. The stolen wand was already sent back to its owner. "I believe you haven't earned one."

"Earned?! I don't have to earn the right to a wand. I was born with magic that entitles me to one."

"Lobbying for goblins as well as mudbloods? What else have you protested for? Squibs, blood-traitors," he smirked viciously. "House elves. Or maybe you just like taste of your own charity and goodwill."

"I'm not the half-blood hypocrite playing at immortality and purity. But maybe you like the taste of your own deformity and false sovereignty." Persephone bit her tongue when he backhanded her.

"I am your king." He said it so quietly she almost didn't hear and that scared her the most. Persephone simply closed her eyes against the undeniable force that was her other self...that was Hermione.

"You are no king! You're barely a Lord and even that is just a distorted mockery of your birth name and its backwards, cowardly owners. Tom Marvolo Riddle, indeed! You're a pathetic, wasted husk of a once promising wizard! You're what's left in the drain after you've rinsed off the dirt. And what are you but an insecure, racist, intolerant, fear-mongering, murdering, worthless fraction of a man?" She caught her breath, a sharp finger in his chest and made to say more but a long, thin arm shot out and she was against the wall in a second. He held her as he had in the library, but with both hands around her neck.

His head tilted as if he was curious and he leaned forward. "So much hatred in you, so much darkness, and you presume to lecture me on worth?" She felt the bones in his fingers as they pressed against her windpipe but he didn't cut off her airway completely. "Tell me, since you are so much more than I, what are you worth?"

Hermione fought his grip, but had no answer. The king sneered as he got closer. She could smell his breath which was both sour and sweet, decay covered up with potpourri.

"On the streets, Hermione Granger is worth a thousand Galleons. But that would be after the rape, the degradation, the weeks of lying in your own filth, the flood of Snatchers ready to rip you to pieces just to sell something. And maybe your empty husk would find its way to me and I would throw you in the dungeons. Or maybe I would send you to Cailen's Square and mount your head for the world to see. No, perhaps, I would tie your sorry corpse to the base of my throne so every single person under my rule would remember the Light and the way I snuffed it out."

"You won't scare me." Hermione gasped out and kicked out at him. The king bent with the blow and laughed.

"Oh, that wasn't my intention. You see, the most frightening thing is yourself, Miss Granger." He dropped her and she stayed on her bottom by the wall. "When the Light abandons you, when you begin to lose yourself and your meaning and they forget about you, you will seek out some purpose. You and your allies are nothing without a banner to wave, a protest to join your voices to. You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you became unimportant."

"I am not unimportant." She whispered harshly, but that just drew more of the king's amusement.

"What are you without Potter? What are any of you without that old bearded fool? You were still being formed in your mother's womb when I was at the height of my power. You're nothing but a talentless, Hogwarts dropout, that failed to win a war and ran like the Mudblood you are when faced with my greatness. You trailed after those two idiots for so long you became one. Sneaking into my circle, using Severus as a cover for this persona. Why don't you take it off?"

Hermione wasn't crying, but her eyes burned. She glared at him as strongly as she could.

"You know nothing about me."

"Cease your play for time. Lower this glamour."

"I can't. Since you're such a powerful wizard, so great and so pure, why don't you remove it?" Persephone was struggling, but she managed to throw Hermione out of the way of another slap. She was holding back her tears with a clenched fist but that was all.

The king stepped back. "I expect you to be just Hermione Granger by month's end."

"Or what, you sick, soulless demon?" Hermione knew she was going to cross a line at some point and she had one of those reckless thoughts again. What would happen if I pushed him too far?

"Or I start killing innocents."

The king was nice enough to open the door for her and the children welcomed her with open arms. They had read ahead since they had been taking turns and wanted to know what a giant squid did all day.

"Oh, and Hermione, don't ever think about writing Severus again." She didn't dare look back and she surely didn't cry.

"Took you long enough!"

Severus knew he was about a shout away from ripping someone's head off and yet he only managed to roll his eyes. The youngest Weasley had her hands on her hips and was pacing around the living room as if she were worried the Dark Lord was going come down his front walk.

"To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" He ignored the angry huff that followed his question and instead called for Uncto. The elf gave him a rather human look of consternation before winking out with orders to retrieve a migraine reliever.

"Where is she?" Thankfully the little Weasley had seen fit to lower her voice, albeit with an annoyingly concerned tone.

"Persephone?"

"Hermione. Moody won't say a word about it, but its not like Tom has been keeping it secret. Skeeter's reporting it all over the place, eyewitnesses range from the men patrolling the manor to a Healer named Sereda. Tom's got her, hasn't he? He's taken her."

How on earth have they heard already? He hadn't read the Prophet in months and now it seems everything is printed out in the same gaudy prose as the exploits of a teenage wizard. Severus gladly took a moment to find a seat and take the medicine Uncto brought before bringing himself to answer.

"I'm having someone look into it."

"Is that what you were going to tell me?" A new voice entered the fray and he didn't even bother standing up to quell the storm that began to rage.

"Malfoy!"

"Hello, Weaslette. How's the slums treating you?"

A resounding slap and Severus settling back in his recliner to let the events unfold as they may. The pain killer was still attempting to take effect.

"Don't you talk to me like old friends, you stuck-up trouser ferret!" There was a story there, but he was too damn tired to uncover it.

"Insults, really? I thought we'd moved past that level in our relationship."

"The only relationship I have with you is going to be my wand up your..."

"Don't even think of finishing that sentence. Keep your wand and its intentions away from rectum."

Uncto brought tea and a small canter of Firewhisky. Severus drank them both.

"Perhaps," he began gently, raising a newly refilled glass of his spiked tea. "We should get to the respective points of our being here."

The inquisitive uplifting of his voice caught the attention he desired and Draco moved away from the irate women with ease.

"I got a chance to see her today."

Severus drug himself out of his own darkness to sit up alertly. He offered Ginny a seat and she took it quickly.

"What did she say?"

Draco looked to Ginny with a serious stare. "I didn't get to speak with her as she's being escorted all over the manor and its grounds by either Dolohov and his new crew or the king himself."

"He knows something." Ginny's face collapsed into sorrow and she curled up on her seat. "Tom's going to hurt her when he finds out the whole truth."

"Tom?" Draco asked and at Ginny's sharp glare he nodded and did not bring it up again. "So, what's our next play? Do we try to destroy one and hope it doesn't tip him off?"

Severus turned in confusion when Ginny shot to her feet.

"Don't touch them! I'll ask..." She paused and he knew she was worried about revealing something so important. He wouldn't have jumped to say it either but he knew they could trust Draco. At his nod, she continued. "I'll ask Harry what he thinks. He had more time around them and Dumbledore. He'll know what to do."

"Tell that lazy, good-for-nothing to get off his arse, there's a war on."

Ginny left after hitting Draco hard in the back of the head.

"Well," Draco gave a small smirk. "That went better than I thought it would when I realized she was here."

"You could have stayed back."

"And I could have hoped another opportunity would have presented itself during wartime. I thought, what the hell?"

"Bit of a gamble."

"So's backing the Light in a battle with our dear and darling sovereign, but guess who has thrown in his lot with the glowing example of society's saints?" Severus gave him a flat look and Draco shrugged. "Got any more in that cup?"

He sat at his throne in the empty ballroom, staring off into the nothing. It had been years since he had been so sorely tempted to give in to his endless anger. Persephone, the shadow that was, had been suspicious from the start and he had allowed himself to be fooled by her. Yaxley had brought his attention to the holes in her backstory, the loose ends and goose chases Rodolphus has been through trying to find proof of her. The ministry records of her were falsified after a certain year but that was only found out recently, after a thorough search and verification. Aside from the pale skin and emerald eyes, she was exactly the same as Hermione Granger.

His inattentiveness to Potter's friends had opened him up for this infiltration. Just as he was nearly killed by some lackwit, he had been poised above a knife's edge while Hermione Granger was moving about his court giving him...advice. That little upstart brat from years ago that had nearly been trampled by a troll, that had fought against his Death Eaters in the Ministry and had stood by the boy despite all the obvious reasons to abandon him.

He had seen a million memories in the boy's mind, had lived through him for almost a year, watching the days roll by. He knew more about Harry Potter than even his friends and yet he had been unable to foresee the coming of the Light after so many years in silence. For nearly five years they had kept their own council, holed up wherever they were beneath his kingdom, and they had grown. They had risen like the fabled Phoenix and now he faced a third war, the final one. He would not fight another after this, for he would be the victor and that would be the end of the Light's attempts at remaining alive.

Voldemort left his shining throne and made his way up, past the closet for cloaks and coats, and into the open sitting room before the stairs. Wormtail was already there.

Wormtail had set a tray on the small table before the stairs that led to the room above the ballroom. He was fiddling with the books beneath his arm and cursing his sweaty palms as Voldemort stepped up behind him.

"What part about a schedule do you not comprehend?"

Wormtail leapt into the air with a squeak and spun around. "My lord! I was just bringing Miss Damasca..."

"Miss Granger. You should know her. Did she not own that half-Kneazle you complained endlessly about?"

"My lord," he swallowed, loudly. "What will you do with her?"

A vicious sort of humor came over Voldemort and he chuckled. "Did you want her? I'm sure she will debase herself for you if you promise to send another letter for her."

The round face before him turned beet red and Wormtail backed up a step.

"No, my lord. Were you...?" He didn't appear able to finish that sentence.

"Leave me."

"Yes, milord." Wormtail said and nodded as he scurried away. His metal hand glimmered in the low light.

Hermione Granger was sitting at the window when he opened the door and she didn't even look back when he set the tray of food on the nearest table. King Voldemort would not be ignored. One flick of his wrist and her golden necklace tightened around her throat. She fell back with a crash, taking what little she had piled around her. An inkwell spilled black onto the carpet. He released her and almost immediately she went about cleaning up the mess.

"Could you wait until I've finished my work before you destroy it?" She barely glanced at him and he resented the fact that she still had the ability to treat him as someone lesser.

"What work could you possibly be doing that is not better forgotten?"

Her face lost all hints of expression and she gazed up at him, in her muggle clothing, like a furious queen.

"I'm teaching children who haven't learned anything but the basics of magic, if that, with a total of ten books, six quills, five inkwells, and a truckload of patience. Not only that, but I don't wish to let my mind atrophy because I'm surrounded by people who have, so I am working on a separate project. And that separate project can't be truly completed because I don't have access to your library, which I might add, would make teaching the children much easier. And to top that all off, I've got Dolohov and his men wrapped around my neck, if there is space there beside this collar." She flicked her gold necklace and stacked her books according to titles. "Crucio me if you like, I've spoken out of turn."

Voldemort smirked, amused by this new act of indifference. It would fail her as everything else would fail her. He would delight in her gradual decline into madness.

"Would you like free reign of the library?" He asked calmly.

Surprise overtook her face and she paused. "Are you kidding?"

"I do not kid. This offer expires in five seconds."

"Yes!" She scrambled to her feet. "I want the library."

"Good. Follow me." He spun on his heel and led the way out of the room. His manor was very active, with the war in a very official status, and his Death Eaters gave him strict bows as they pored over reports and talked tactics. Hermione followed close behind him, probably in fear of his servants, and he could feel her both wanting to grab his robes and abhorring the thought of doing so. He chuckled.

Voldemort worked his way to the lower levels, the ones built deep into the landscape, where he had made living quarters for the children. The eldest were milling about, but they either bowed or made themselves scarce at his arrival. Hermione slowed down, relaxed, and greeted each and every one. It took another twenty minutes to get to the common room where the children would gather for meals. Vanessa was among those huddled around the tables. She jumped up with a smile and was in Hermione's arms before he could address them.

"One of you is going to Varribaltë with myself and your dear mother. Who shall it be?" The children shrank back visibly and he relished in the fear his creation inspired. "No volunteers?"

"What is Varribaltë?" Hermione asked and Vanessa took off.

"I had to put their parents somewhere. Why not where they belong?"

Hermione's face changed again, but this time she balked, pale and sick, and stumbled backwards. He couldn't wait until she actually witnessed this invention.

"If one of you does not step forward, I will take the youngest." Voldemort let the threat sink in before a little boy came a step nearer. He was shoved backwards by an elder sister who bowed at the sovereign's feet.

"I will go, sir."

"Your name?" The girl looked about in confusion at the question. She was old enough to realize that he did not care.

"Marianne, sir."

"Well, Marianne, let us go." Hermione rushed to keep up and Marianne took her hand. He could hear them whispering and there was more fear in their voices as they wondered what he could possibly want.

All in good time.

It had been far too long since he had paid a visit to Varribaltë and since he was going through with thorough checks of every department, he might as well check on the mudblood housing facility. It had been created months ago as a place to funnel all those of magical status, or simply of relation to those of magical status, that had not been cleared by the Hall of Records as having a line of pureblood in their family. Wands were taken, logged and stored if they were not broken. Rooms had been created to hold the offenders and each room was warded against unauthorized magic, as well as rigged to release a poisonous gas should the resident feel the need to be silenced. Everyone who entered was marked with the symbol of his rule and ownership, which was always bared to the eyes of anyone who would look. The children had such a mark, but he doubted Hermione had seen them.

No matter, she would have her own mark soon, and then there would be no question to whom she belonged.

A/N: I got blocked like you would not believe, so I just took a break and watched some movies, read a book and came back when my mind wasn't clogged to all hell. Apologies for the wait, but I attempted to make this one long to compensate. I think it got muddled in the middle but...meh, I'm going crazy knowing this isn't posted. Hope you enjoyed it and please review. Tickle2Kill.