Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Harry Potter Universe. It all belongs to the Queen, J.K.

Beta Love: Dreamingofstars85

A/N: And we've made it to Part 3! As of right now, I believe there will be 5 parts total. This chapter has been a long time coming, so I hope you all enjoy it! ... in a deranged, unbalanced and dark sort of way I guess, HA!
xoxo, Luce


PART THREE

-Into the Darkness-

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Marked

It was like a prisoner's death march. That's what the walk from their room to the ballroom felt like. They left at seven fifty-three exactly. Ten minutes seemed too long, and five too short. Finn said this would give them just enough time to get there and take a breath or two but not enough time to linger and stress and panic. Hermione had let out a short, bitter laugh when he'd said that. She wanted to say she was already panicking but kept that to herself.

When they reached the doors to the ballroom with two minutes to spare, Hermione was shaking and near hyperventilating. Finn pulled her into his chest and held her tightly, running his hand lightly down her back. He said a quiet Muffliato before turning his head to look at her and bringing his hands to cup her face.

"I know this sucks," he whispered. "But you have to pull yourself together, Hermione. You have to get control of yourself. Pull your shields up and just get through tonight, alright? In a few days, we will be away from here, and we can plan and figure things out, but for now you have to get a grip."

Hermione nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath, and shaking her hands out a little, trying to dispel her nerves. It didn't work, but she was able to control the shaking. She took a moment to make sure her mind was fully occluded—shields up and as strong as they possibly could be—before turning her body to face the door and squaring her shoulders.

The doors silently swung open then, and Hermione's breath caught as she saw the meeting being held inside. Voldemort was standing at the back of the room facing her, and the rest of the Death Eaters were clad in their menacing black attire, sans masks, standing in an almost semi-circle around him. Their backs were all to her and no one had noticed the doors open, or if they had, none had taken their attention from the Dark Lord to see who had arrived.

The Dark Lord finished what he was saying—she hadn't a clue what it was as she had been too nervous to pay attention—and smiled. He'd looked right at her briefly, before sweeping his eyes around the circle of followers.

"Friends," he said. "It is with great pride that I inform you of our purpose for tonight's meeting." He lifted his arm toward Hermione, beckoning her into the room. There was a slight murmur as heads turned and finally spotted her, and the members near the middle of the semi-circle parted on both sides to let her through. Hermione walked with a courage she did not feel, passing between the line of Death Eaters and straight to Voldemort. He still had his hand outstretched toward her, so she lifted her own and grasped it, following his lead as he turned her slightly so she faced the group.

"Miss Lestrange has been with us for some many months now, and in that time, she has proven her worth quite significantly. Most recently by saving Mr Rowle's life." He smiled at the group before him, and Hermione watched as Finn filled the gap created when the circle parted, taking his place within the ranks. "I find myself joyous tonight as I prepare to Mark her as one of us forever."

The mumbling started again and Hermione could pick out a few voices who were displeased with this information, though most of them were nodding and smiling in agreement. She watched as Bellatrix curtsied before stepping forward and looking at her master.

"My Lord, are you sure this is the right time?" she asked. "She hasn't been—"

The Dark Lord cut her off with raised hand and sharp look. "I am quite certain in my decision, Bella, and I do not need you to question me on it. Miss Lestrange is ready, and we are ready for her."

"But—"

"Bellatrix," he said sternly. "Do not make me tell you again."

Bella whimpered slightly, but backed up into her place in the circle and remained quiet.

"I realise some of you may be… questioning… my decision. However, it is not a decision I have made lightly, and its one I'm quite sure about. As you all know, we will have her initiation prior to her Marking, and simply put, the Mark will only take if she's true to our cause."

Hermione's breath caught.

Her heart sped up about a million times faster, and she felt the panic rising again. True to the cause? What did that mean? The Mark would fail if she wasn't sincere? Finn hadn't mentioned that at all, and now she was sure this was a terrible idea. She somehow managed to keep her expression calm and clear of the dread she was feeling. She gave herself a moment so as not to look obvious before searching out Finn's eyes. He very subtly nodded once to her, and while Hermione was sure it was meant to be reassuring, she didn't feel even slightly better.

Well, she thought, one way or another, a part of her was dying tonight. Either her soul or her body.
Hermione let herself look around the circle of people surrounding her, finally spotting Draco at the end on her right. He smiled encouragingly at herand nodded once.

"Bella," the Dark Lord said, "Would you go fetch the creature so we may begin?"

"Yes, my Lord," Bella said with a curtsey before turning and apparating on the spot.

Hermione felt sick. She knew what she had to do to survive, but that didn't make it any easier. It didn't make her any more ok with it. Pushing the fear and disgust down, she took a moment to breathe and readied herself for what was to come.

Bellatrix arrived back a moment later, her fist gripped tightly in the dark brown curls of a girl no older than Hermione herself. She looked terrified, and starved, and beaten, and somehow resigned to her fate. She knew she'd been brought here to die.

Hermione used every ounce of force she had to keep her expression from darkening.
The Dark Lord beckoned Bella to bring the girl into the centre of the grouping and smiled as she did so. "Miss Lestrange, tonight you join our ranks as a Marked Death Eater. You become one of us, connected by more than just the blood of your father, or your own loyalty to the cause. You become Marked as my own, and I take you into my house with pride and joy. I have expectations and demands that may at times be hard to meet, however in return I grant you my protection and my guidance. Do you accept your place within these ranks?"

Hermione let a smile play across her face as she turned her body to better face the man standing before her. She curtsied and looked him straight in the eyes.

"I do, my Lord."

Hermione suddenly felt the sharp pangs of Legilimency, and quickly fortified her barriers once more, drawing herself back into the corner of her mind, keeping only the façade of herself available for viewing. She kept the eye contact, knowing that he didn't need it to access her mind, but hoping that it would cement her eagerness for him and his belief in what he was finding. One of the things Finn had taught her was that if she acted as though she had nothing to hide, he would be more pleased and less likely to pry as deeply or roughly as he may if he thought she were trying to keep secrets.

After another minute of their silent staring, Hermione had the beginnings of a sharp headache but she felt him pull out of her mind.

He turned his gaze from her and set it on Finn. "Mr Rowle, her wand, if you will."

Finn walked several steps into the circle, producing Hermione's wand and setting it into her waiting palm. He wrapped his large hand over hers, closing her fingers around the wand and squeezing gently. Giving her a brief smile, he let go and turned, retaking his place in the line.

"Miss Lestrange, this young… woman," he said the last word as though it tasted foul in his mouth, "is a crime against our world simply by her existence. Her father committed an immoral transgression and thought he could get away with it simply by hiding out in the muggle world. You see, her father is a wizard, but he married a muggle. This creature before you is the product of a breeding that should never have happened, and thus, must be eliminated. However, upon her capture, she permanently wounded one of our own. As such, she now faces a much more painful death, which you will be in charge of. Once she has been taken care of—in whichever manner you see fit—we will move to the ceremony of your marking." The Dark Lord smiled encouragingly at her before stepping away and taking a seat in his throne like chair several paces back from where they stood.

Hermione nodded toward him and smiled. "It will be my pleasure, my Lord."

She couldn't keep her hands from trembling, but hoped that it would either not be noticed or would be brushed off as general nerves from being in front of the group. Hermione turned to the now sobbing girl; she too was dressed in a white garment, kneeling and pleading, a sacrificial lamb before her. She couldn't help but notice the similarities between them. They both had short, curly brown hair, they were of the same age, the girl was even of the same skin tone as Hermione.

She is me, Hermione thought. I was right. My soul dies with her, tonight.

Hermione pointed her wand and the girl held her hands up protectively in front of herself. "Please, don't do this!" she cried out.

"Crucio," Hermione said, her voice steady and sure, not betraying the heartbreak and disgust she felt.

The girl writhed and screamed before her and several Death Eaters hooted at her choice of torture before death. Hermione knew the moment Finn had told her what the initiation consisted of that she would have to draw out the killing. She couldn't make it a mercy kill. She would have to hurt and torture the victim before killing them. It was in that moment that she truly understood what Draco had meant. "No matter what."

And so she did what she had to do.

She Crucio'd the girl for several long moments before letting up and then immediately sending the curse she'd used on Bellatrix. The crowd became even more enthusiastic with their praise of her. She heard someone remind Bellatrix of her time with that specific curse, and she heard and felt the mood of the room as her show roused the group. Hermione fought back bile threatening to come up and pointed her wand again. She sent several strong cutting hexes aimed to maim but not kill. Each hex she sent however, became easier and easier as they left her wand and found the target. She was standing close enough that she felt warm blood splatter her legs, arms, and face. The longer she tortured the girl, the easier it got. Hermione tried to ignore that thought. The girl was now bleeding all over the floor, made especially obvious by the dark red stains spreading across her white dress. Her sobs were still echoing around the room, but they were less desperate now. She knew her fate, now she cried only because of the pain.

When the girl began to feel the full effects of the blood boiling curse, Hermione felt she had done enough, and with one last look at the innocent life before her, she aimed her wand with intention and purpose.

"Avada Kedavra," she said, just loud enough to be audible.

The girl immediately stopped making sounds but her eyes remained open, locked on Hermione as the life was finally sucked from her body.

Hermione knew her own soul had gone with it.

Cheers erupted around the room, and the Dark Lord stood from his chair to walk toward her. He opened his arms and folded her into the coldest hug Hermione had ever received. "I am very pleased, my child."

Hermione could feel both Finn and Draco's eyes boring into her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at either of them. She was a monster.

Voldemort took her hand with his and raised them into the air above her head like a victory gesture and the shouting and clapping continued. He let them adore her for a few moments before using his other hand to silence the room. They quieted quickly, expectantly.

"She has done well, has she not?" he said, and let the room erupt in applause once more before silencing them again. "Now, Hermione," he said, dropping her hand and turning toward her. "Kneel before your Lord and receive me."

Hermione was suddenly petrified at his meaning, praying desperately to gods that likely no longer listened to her pleas. She had done enough tonight, he couldn't mean to make her service him as well.

She was filled with relief when he only reached out and requested her arm. Hermione extended it up into his grasp and had only a moment to panic once more about whether the mark would stick or not before the pain began. At first it was sharp, but manageable. She kept her eyes on her arm, watching as inky black magic seeped into her skin, permanently maring her. The pain quickly grew, travelling from her arm and spreading into her entire body. It seemed as though it were under her skin, in her very blood, moving to every location in her body and burning like a fire. She lasted only a couple minutes before tears started leaking from her eyes, and with five minutes she too was screaming in pain, writhing as he bore his Mark into her. Her body went slack from the pain and she vaguely realised someone had come to hold her arm up while the Dark Lord continued to drill his Mark into her. Her face was pressed against the stone cold floor and her gaze was locked onto the body lying dead behind the Dark Lord. The life was gone but the eyes remained open, somehow seeming fixed on her as she lay there, crying out in an agony she knew she deserved.

xXxXxXx

Hermione knew she had gone in and out of consciousness during the Marking. She'd tried her hardest to hold on, and to remain respectable, but pain like that was impossible to ignore or push aside. It demanded to be felt in a way that took over your whole body, your entire existence, as it coursed through your veins and permeated your soul. Her throat was raw from the screaming, and she became aware that her arm was dripping in blood. She looked down and the black inky stain that was now branded into her very being was swollen and angry looking, but it was also most definitely there. It stuck. Her dress was splotched with blood, and the floor around her was similarly streaked and covered.

She looked up from her arm into the smiling face of Voldemort. He reached a hand toward her and helped her to her feet. "I'm surprised that you are still conscious, child. Not many make it to the end as you have. Welcome to my circle."

Hermione looked over his shoulder and spotted Draco staring back at her. His expression was tight, though unless you knew him you probably wouldn't be able to tell. He looked disgusted. That was the last thing Hermione remembered before her world swayed and her vision darkened.

xXxXxX

When she regained consciousness she felt groggy, sick and sore, but alive. She kept her eyes closed, not sure if she even had the strength to open them—or to deal with the consequences of her actions.

She slowly became more aware of her surroundings, though. She was almost positive that she was laying in her own bed—or rather, Finn's bed. It was quiet, and someone was holding her hand—albeit very loosely, which she was thankful for as the whole arm burned like the dickens. Their head was resting on the bed and pulling the blankets tighter around her middle, making her think they must be sleeping.

Very slowly she raised her right arm and brought it across her body, wincing at the movement. She placed it gently on top of the head at her side, carding her fingers through the hair. She released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and turned her head, opening her eyes to see the familiar face next to her.

Draco groaned quietly, turning his head toward her touch. She stroked her hand down his relaxed features and watched as his eyes opened, taking her in. Hermione's hand fell from his face as he sat up, looking at her with eyes she could not read. She carefully and slowly pushed herself up until she was sitting, wincing often but keeping her eyes on him as he watched her.

When his expression did not change, she tore her gaze from his, looking away in shame. "I'm sorry," she whispered as tears welled up in her eyes. "I had to, I'm so sorry."

"Hermione," Draco said quietly.

She didn't turn her head to look at him. She couldn't bare to see his disgust again.

"Hermione," he said again, much more sternly. When she still did not acknowledge him, he reached across her, very gently grasping her face in his hand and turning her toward him. She let him, however she kept her eyes downcast. "Look at me, Hermione," he said firmly.

She did.

"Never apologise for this."

She shook her head. "I—"

"I know what you did. You did exactly what you had to in order to survive. Never ever apologise to me for staying alive, Hermione." He reached out, brushing his thumb across her cheek and wiping her fallen tears away. After a minute he asked, "How do you feel?"

"Like I've just been run over by the Knight Bus and left in the street to die."

"Yeah, that will last a couple days," he said. "You did it, Hermione."

"I didn't know that there was a chance the Mark wouldn't take; why didn't you tell me that?"

"There wasn't any chance that it wouldn't take, and we didn't want to unnecessarily worry you over nothing," he said.

"What do you mean there wasn't a chance it wouldn't take? It didn't sound like that's what Voldem—ahh!" she hissed, grabbing at her left arm, which was the wrong thing to do as it was still throbbing in pain.

"What the fuck?" she asked, looking up to Draco.

"Yeah, can't say that anymore, love."

"Well that's bloody annoying," she growled, tenderly holding her arm to her chest.

He shrugged. "You'll get used to it."

Hermione sighed and laid her arm out before her, getting her first look at the physical evidence of her betrayal. It wasn't a pretty mark, that was for sure. But after months of living with Finn and being exposed to his Mark, as well as Draco's, and every bloody person's in this hell hole, she found she wasn't as appalled by it as she thought she would be. She was already used to the Mark, now she just had to get used to it being on her arm.

Hermione sighed and pushed the covers off of her legs, gingerly maneuvering her body as she began to get out of bed.

"What are you doing?" Draco said, trying to stop her from getting up.

"I'm going to take a shower and change my…" she looked down at her body and realised she was only wearing her knickers and bra. "Put some clothes on, I guess."

"The dress was covered in blood," he said quietly in explanation. "Hermione, no one expects you to be up yet. You've only been sleeping for," he checked the clock over his shoulder, "Merlin, Hermione, you've only been sleeping for twelve hours. I was in bed for two days when I took my Mark, and even that was a relatively quick recovery. You need rest!"

"I need to shower, Draco. I can't…" she shuddered slightly and grimaced. "I can feel the blood still on my skin."

"Cleansing charms are—"

"No, Draco. Help me to the bloody washroom, I'm taking a shower."

Ten minutes later they'd settled on a bath, and Hermione was soaking in the large tub while Draco waited in the other room. He'd offered to stay but Hermione knew she needed some time alone, to process and to prepare herself for the questions she knew he and Finn would have for her.

When she had finished scrubbing her body of the blood and sweat that remained, she gingerly stood from the tub. The door was cracked open—something Draco had insisted on so he could hear in case she needed him—so Hermione raised her right hand and summoned her wand. It came flying into her grasp, and she used it to warm the towel on the counter before using that to dry her body and then take the sopping wetness from her hair. She didn't care enough to use a drying charm. Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked out to join Draco and face the day. Finn was sitting at the table with him, and they were both nursing very full glasses of Firewhisky. Hermione said nothing as they both stared at her. She crossed the room and opened the potions box on Finn's dresser, searching the bottles until she found the three she was looking for: a healing potion, a pain relief potion, and an energy potion.

"What are you doing?" Finn asked from across the room.

"Just grabbing a pain relief and healing potion," she said.

They clearly had no problem with that answer because neither man questioned her further. Hermione pulled her wand out again and pointed it at the first bottle. It was the pain relief. She had been doing a lot of reading lately—nothing new with that behaviour, however, she had access to many books she'd never encountered before, not even in Hogwarts. One of the things she'd been studying was potion manipulation. It was a rather intriguing concept, actually. The ability to take a potion and alter its effects based on the contents of the brew. Magic and magical ingredients wanted to work together; there was a certain symbiosis between them. If the caster knew the ingredients of the potion, they could easily manipulate them, not into a seperate potion entirely, but at least a different version of what you started with.

Luckily, Hermione had watched Finn brew these potions and had already thought about manipulating them prior to now. She hadn't had a chance yet, but figured now was as good a time as any.

She wound the spell into the first bottle, hoping it worked. When she finished, she moved on to the second bottle and repeated the process, the incantation slightly different for this one.

"Hermione, what the fuck?" Draco said, startling her as he spoke over her shoulder.

Hermione began uncorking the bottles in front of her. "If you think I'm just going to lie in bed all week you've got another thing coming, Draco." She quickly brought the first bottle to her lips and drank its contents.

Draco's hand came up and caught her wrist as she reached for the next bottle.

"Relax, Draco. It's a pain relief potion, a healing potion, and an energy potion. Nothing nefarious," she said, rolling her eyes. She pulled her wrist from his grip and drank the second potion.

"But what did you do to them?"

"Nothing really. Hopefully, I just enhanced them a bit," she said, throwing back the last bottle and then vanishing the three empties.

"What do you mean enhanced?" he asked.

Hermione immediately began feeling the effects of the potions. Her body felt less like a train wreck and more like an all over ache, and she was feeling much more alert and rested than she had. "Exactly what I said. Look," she held her arms out, "I'm fine. Let's go sit down, alright? I need a drink."

Hermione brushed past Draco and sat in the chair at the table, not bothering to use a glass and drinking straight from the bottle of Firewhisky.

"Whoa there, doll," Finn said, reaching over and gently pushing the bottle down from her mouth. "You really should get some more rest, Hermione. It's not easy on the body, taking the—"

Hermione glared at him. "Don't, Finn. I'm fine, alright?"

Finn made a face and put his hands up in the universal gesture for 'don't shoot'. Hermione rolled her eyes and took another drink. "So what's the plan?"

"What plan?" Draco asked.

"When are we leaving this hell hole?"

Finn laughed. "Ready, are you?"

"I've been fucking ready, Finn." she said.

"Well, I've got a few things to straighten out before we can leave, but I'd say definitely this week, if not the next few days."

Hermione sighed. That was longer than she'd hoped. She couldn't wait to get away from this place. Where she was held prisoner and tortured. Where she… where she was branded, and where she killed an innocent child. She squeezed her eyes shut as the memories tried to surface.

Yeah, she was ready.

"I can't sit around today," she said. "I need to get out of this room and do something, otherwise… Otherwise I'm going to have to think about it, and I'm not ready to think yet."

"Hermione, you really can't—"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Draco. You don't own me yet," she snapped, glaring at him.

Draco recoiled. He physically recoiled from her and his expression was as though he'd been slapped.

Hermione brought her hand up and rubbed her eyes before pinching the bridge if her nose. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said that."

"What do you mean, yet?" He asked. "Is that what you think I want? Is that what you think our… marriage will be like?"

"No, Draco, I don't. Obviously I don't, I just—" she sighed heavily and looked up at him. "I snapped and I didn't mean to. Forgive me?"

Draco eyed her for what seemed like an eternity and Hermione bit her lip, waiting. "I'm not trying to own you, Hermione. Or boss you around or anything like that. I just want what's best for you, and you have a tendency to push yourself too hard, too fast."

She reached out her hand, taking hold of his that rested on his knee and squeezing reassuringly. "I know, I do that sometimes."

Finn snorted. "Sometimes," he scoffed.

Hermione glared.

Turning her attention back to Draco she spoke again. "Really, I'm alright. I modified the potions, ok? It's something I've been studying for a while, and I gave it a try and it seems like it worked. I'm achy but not dying anymore, and I can only assume the healing potion is doing its work, too. Plus I took an energy potion, which I didn't modify but it's definitely working. I just need to get out of here and let my mind focus on something else."

Draco nodded. "Alright. What did you have in mind?"

Hermione smiled, a slow-spreading, sly grin that she knew made both men edgy. "I was thinking we could do some training."

xXxXxXx

An hour and a half later found the three of them sated from breakfast and in one of the training rooms of the Manor.

Finn had argued at first, saying there was no way he was letting her do anything overly physical so soon after her marking. Draco's face was set in a tight expression that told her he wanted to argue about it as well, but after their words earlier he didn't dare to.

In the end, Hermione had consented to a full—albeit rudimentary—health scan. Finn was determined to use what little mediwizard skills he possessed to make sure she wasn't going to gravely injure herself or exhaust her core magic. He was rather put out to find that Hermione was right. The potions seemed to be working and she really had sped up the healing and recovery process.

Which is why they stood before a life-size dummy, enchanted to spar with Hermione so she could practice her physical fighting skills on an actual moving target rather than a punching bag. In a duel, it didn't matter your opponent's size because physical strength had no correlation to magical strength. In hand to hand combat, however, size and strength were at least half the battle: fighting Finn was much harder than she cared to admit because he was twice her size, and since he taught her literally everything she knew he was able to anticipate her moves in an uncanny and infuriating way.

Draco had flat out refused to hit her, not even wanting to be in the room while she fought. He had said he had a few things to take care of and left the two of them in the training room. So the dummy it was.

"You're sure you are up for this?" Finn asked, again.

"Bring the fucking dummy to life Finn, and don't ask me that again," she growled, planting her feet and rolling her shoulders back. She brought her fists up in front of her face and nodded, letting Finn know it was time.

He said the spell, and the stuffed human-shaped bag of beans came to life. It was both silly looking and intimidating—an animated, faceless fighting machine that was coming straight for her. Hermione felt the familiar sharp pricks of Legilimency from Finn as the dummy took the first swing. She had told Finn she wanted him to try and get into her mind while she was fighting because she needed the practice of keeping her shields up in situations like that. Honestly, the Dark Lord trying to pry into her mind had been terrifying and he'd come closer to succeeding than she ever wanted to admit. She feared who may get in if they tried that when her focus wasn't entirely on keeping her shields up.

It wasn't easy, Finn was putting his all into the effort, and the dummy was giving her a run for her money. She'd landed one punch so far, but she had also taken one, which is exactly when Finn had been able to sneak past one of her walls and glimpse into her mind for the briefest second. Hermine quickly realised what happened and slammed the shield back into place before looking over her shoulder. Finn was grinning like he'd won a biscuit. The fucker.

Bringing her attention back to the dummy, Hermione managed to trip and then roll on top of it, getting her hands around its neck for a brief moment before she was essentially catapulted off, landing hard on her arse and hip. She just managed to scramble to the side before the thing grabbed her again. She was fighting completely defensively at this point, only managing to get away from the thing in the nick of time, several times in a row. It lunged once more, and at the last moment, Hermione turned the opposite direction and was able to elbow the dummy in the chest. She could feel Finn poking and trying very hard to get into her mind, but she was confident that, though very difficult, she could keep him out. After that, she was able to land several hits in succession as the dummy struggled to regain its balance. When it finally did, however, it came at her much more aggressively than it had, and managed to strike her in the upper arm. The blow surprised her and knocked her off balance, giving the dummy just enough access to hit her again. And again. She was using all her strength and as much focus as she could spare just to avoid getting hit and block the non-stop attacks from the dummy. She could feel her shields almost shaking under the pressure. As she fought to keep them fully in place, she realised she couldn't do both: she couldn't fully occlude her mind and not get her arse kicked by this dummy.

When she was struck in the face, Hermione fell to the ground with a whimper. The dummy did not stop its attack, and soon she was lying helpless on the ground, one arm shielding her head and the other her stomach, focusing all of her energy and strength on her shields. In an obviously unhealthy way, it felt almost cathartic getting her arse kicked by the dummy. Each blow felt deserved after what she'd done, and at that echoing thought, she stopped trying to fight it off. She sustained several hard blows before the dummy suddenly slumped to the ground, immobile.

"What the fuck was that?!" Finn yelled as he drew closer, kneeling before her.

Hermione gingerly unfolded herself from the ball she'd been in but didn't look at Finn. "It was fight or drop my shields," she said quietly. "Obviously I couldn't do the latter."

"You're with me!" Finn shouted angrily. "Training! You don't have to let yourself get beat to a bloody fucking pulp!"

Hermione reached her hand up and wiped at her mouth, which apparently was bleeding. She knew she'd just smeared blood across her face but didn't care.

"Actually, Finn, I do. I need to know that if it comes to this, I'll be able to hold my shields, no matter what. So sod off, because you're being a bloody arse right now!"

"I'm just trying to help you, Hermione!" Finn shot back, standing up.

Hermione rolled over and pushed herself to sit up. "Yeah, well no one can help me now, Finn," she said flatly.

He scoffed and turned his back from her. "Not if you don't let them, that's for sure!"

"Fuck off, Rowle," she spat, standing up and wincing as pain radiated from the places she'd been hit. It definitely hurt more than she thought it should—probably something to do with the fact that she'd been all but beaten to a bloody pulp at the Marking yesterday, and the potion she'd manipulated didn't cover the excessive beating she'd opted for.

Hermione stormed toward the door, needing space for a few minutes.

"Hermione, where are you going?" Finn called to her.

"I need a fucking minute, Finn. Don't follow me."

She walked into the hallway and turned left, trying to put distance between her and Finn, truly needing the time alone. She hadn't had any since before everything had happened.

Hermione wandered the manor for a good ten minutes before she felt like she was calm enough to return and face Finn. She owed him an apology. She was angry and upset but it wasn't fair to take it out on him. She needed to do something to come to terms with what had happened… with what she'd done. She murdered two innocent lives. She had the darkest magic literally coursing through her veins. And that was just the beginning. The things she would have to do… Sighing, Hermione turned around and headed back to the training room. Those were thoughts for another time. Walking down the hall, she was surprised to find that she actually knew her way around the manor now.

When she rounded the corner of a particularly secluded hallway, Hermione ran right into someone, nearly falling onto her arse but instead found herself being steadied by strong hands around her shoulders.

She nearly groaned when the unwelcome voice spoke. "Careful there."

Looking up, Hermione made eye contact with Dolohov, who was holding her just inches from himself. She watched his expression change as he took her in. "Whoa, pet. What happened?"

"Nothing I'm in the mood to discuss," she said, backing out of his grasp. "Excuse me," she said, attempting to walk around him.

Hermione made it a few paces before he was walking right beside her, his hand roughly grabbing her arm. "I asked you what happened," he said sternly, pulling her to a stop beside him.

After the last couple of days she'd had, Hermione found she had no patience for his arseholery, and jerked her arm from his grasp. "And I told you to mind your own bloody business," she hissed.

Dolohov clearly did not like that response. He scowled darkly before grabbing her around the waist and hauling up her over his shoulder.

Hermione beat her fists against his back and kicked her legs. "Put me down you bastard!" she shouted, trying to squirm out of his grasp. She was pissed at herself for leaving her fucking wand in the training room. WHY had she done that? She's allowed to have it at all times now! Stupid!

"Oh my, don't we have a colourful vocabulary. No, I don't think I will. It's my duty as a concerned gentleman, especially a concerned suitor, to find out who has hurt my lady," he said.

She continued to beat his back. "I'm not your fucking lady!"

Dolohov chuckled, and Hermione stiffened when he slid one of his hands from her ankle all the way up the inside of her leg, only just avoiding her centre at the last minute, and placing it on her arse before patting it a few times. "Not yet, my love, not yet."

"Keep your fucking hands off me you prick," she spat, kicking and clawing at his back.

Dolohov suddenly turned and opened a door on his right, waking into the room and shutting the door behind him. Looking around, Hermione realised it was a spare room and her stomach sank. He moved into the middle of the room and unceremoniously dropped her onto the bed, standing right before her and glaring down.

"I am surprised you are up and about, pet, after last night's celebration."

"Fuck you."

"Well, I'd like that very much, actually," he smirked. "Don't worry, we will get to that next. We need to talk about something first, though."

Hermione scanned the room, desperately searching for a way out. There was only the one door, though, and Dolohov was effectively blocking her from it. Plus she knew she was in the most unused wing of the manor, no one would even hear her if she were to scream.

Dolohov continued speaking. "The Dark Lord informed me yesterday that my contract was being refused as is because of the expiration date. Something about how you wanted to be fair to the other suitors and give them time to court you as well, so you could make a fair decision. But it looks to me like you've already made your decision, and that is not fair."

"If I had made a decision, then it would have been announced, or the Dark Lord would have told you," she hissed.

"Malfoy sure has been spending a lot of time with you, and we both know he's the only other suitor you've had, besides the Nott boy who isn't even here. He hasn't even produced a contract to my knowledge. And that is not how we do things, pet. Something is going on."

Hermione didn't answer, just continued to glare.

"That's all a little upsetting, pet. You see, I had my sights set on a Beltane wedding. How lovely would that symbolism be, if you were to take my seed on Beltane, a day we celebrate fertility, and…" He trailed off, moving onto the bed with her. Hermione scrambled back but he caught her around the waist, pulling her up onto her knees and right into him. She put her hands on his chest and tried to shove him away, but he was so much larger and stronger than her that she didn't stand a chance. He bent his head, dropping it to her neck where he sucked and nipped at the skin. "And sexuality," he said, finishing his statement.

Hermione pulled away from him, but he held her so tightly that she made no progress. He grabbed one of the hands that was pushing at his chest and, still sucking at her neck and surely leaving a mark, brought it to his crotch, making her feel his straining erection. "Bet you've never had a man like me before," he growled. "Don't worry, pet. I'll go slow, the first time."

Disgusted, angry and frightened—although anger was the emotion at the top currently—Hermione knew she couldn't overpower him like this. Her mind was reeling, trying to come up with a way out. She knew she had to do something though, and quick. She made a rash decision, and stopped fighting, letting him press her hand fully into his erection, even spreading her fingers out slightly, as if she were trying to feel it.

He immediately let her hand go, bring his own up to cup her arse. "That's right baby, I knew you wanted it."

As soon as she felt him relax into her a bit, she whispered, "I've never had a man as small as you, that's for sure," and brought her knee up as hard as she possibly could, connecting with his prick and making him howl out in agony, releasing his grasp on her just enough for her to scramble off the bed.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" he shouted.

Hermione had her hand on the door when she heard the springs on the bed groan as he maneuvered off of it and toward her. She threw the door open and ran out into the hallway, sprinting full speed away from the room. She was panting and out of breath already, and she could hear his heavy footfalls following closely behind her. She grabbed at a cabinet that was in the hallway as she rounded one of the corners, throwing it down and hearing the glass shatter on the floor, but still not turning back.

"You'll pay for this, bitch!" Dolohov shouted at her.

As she entered a more trafficked area of the manor, the footfalls behind her began to grow further away, until she was sure he wasn't following her any longer, but still she ran.

She sprinted all the way back to the training room, praying Finn was still in there, and if he wasn't, that he'd at least left her wand. She slammed the door behind her, flooded with relief when she saw him standing with his back to her and her wand right where she'd left it. She raced to the table, picking up the vine wood and spinning to face the door, her back against the wall, panting heavily.

"What the fuck?" Finn asked, clearly confused.

Hermione didn't move a muscle, eyes trained on the door. After several moments, when nothing happened, she slowly dropped her wand arm to her side, sliding her body down the wall behind her until she was in a heap on the floor.

"Hermione, you need to—what happened?" he asked as he realised something was wrong.

"Dolohov," she said in explanation between breaths.

"That fucker!" Finn hissed. He dropped to his knees before her, holding her face in his hands. "Did he touch you? Are you ok?"

Hermione shook her head. "He tried, but…But I think I fucked up, Finn."

"What happened?"

"I ran into him in the hallway, and he picked me up like his fucking property, dragged me off to some room, tried to kiss me, tried to impress me with his tiny prick. I kicked him in the balls and…may have said something rude about his size before running straight here."

Finn pulled her into him, holding her tightly. "It's fine, Hermione, everything will be fine. The plan you had going might need to be reevaluated, but I swear to Merlin if he tries to turn this back on you I'll kill him."

Hermione nodded, knowing he actually meant it.

After a few silent moments, Finn pulled away. "Did you at least kick him hard?"

"Very."

Finn grinned at her. "Good girl," he said, patting her on the head.

"Sorry I yelled at you," Hermione said, feeling guilty.

"It's fine, doll—"

She shook her head. "It isn't. I didn't mean it. I'm just so bloody stressed, and I took it out on you and I shouldn't have."

"Hermione, you're in probably the most stressful place in all of wizarding Britain right now—Hell, probably ALL of Britain, period. You get to lose your shit sometimes."

Hermione laughed and hugged him again, tightly. Of all the shitty things that had happened to her in the last several months, she would always be grateful for Finn.