A/N: This chapter does contain some derogatory language and references to scenarios that could be considered triggering for some readers. If you would like a quick review of what will be said in this chapter that could harm your well-being, please pop down to the author's note at the end of the chapter for an overview.
Chapter 39 - Justice
Bellatrix Lestrange was an anchor at Hermione's back, weighing her down and grounding her.
Death Eaters surrounding her, Hermione's breath caught in her throat, her mind threatening to throw her back to her time in the cellar. But this time was different. This time, Hermione tunneled into her magic, the depths of it welcoming her, allowing her to sink deeper and deeper until she wasn't sure she could ever find the surface again.
Hermione wasn't sure she ever wanted to.
The only things tethering her to reality were Bellatrix Lestrange pressed against her back, a wand digging painfully into her throat, and Draco's pained cries echoing across the circle of stones.
Overgrown nails scratched painfully at Hermione's scalp as her captor twisted her fingers deeper into Hermione's curls. Rancid breath fanned over her cheek as she stared blankly ahead. "What'll it be, Mudblood? What would you do to save him?"
Bellatrix would expect her to cower, so Hermione shifted, adjusting her wand in its holster as inconspicuously as she could, hoping Bellatrix would think her squirming in fear. Swallowing against the smarting pain in her scalp, Hermione spat her answer out between clenched teeth. "Anything."
Though it was the truth, Hermione fought to get the word out around the knot that welled in her throat. If she thought about all she'd done to land her and Draco here for too long, the guilt would crush her.
She wouldn't allow them to take any more of her time with Draco.
A cruel laugh skittered over Hermione's skin, wand tip digging further into the soft flesh at the juncture of her throat and jaw and her skin sizzled as Bellatrix forced a furious shot of magic through it. The laughter died away, a delighted gasp sucking through Bellatrix's teeth as she twisted Hermione's spine. "What do you say we give you to Yaxley and make Draco watch?" Her stomach roiled at the insinuation. "Let them have their fun with you before we give you back to the Dark Lord?"
Both men turned to eye her with animalistic appraisal, sickening glints in their eyes, and Draco shot forward, trying to wrestle out of their grip before Dolohov kicked his knee, Draco's legs sweeping out from beneath him with a crunch.
A ripple of the dark tendrils threatened across her skin, but Hermione clamped down firmly on her lip, fighting the urge to lash out.
They were pawns, and the board needed to be properly laid despite how much she wanted to dispatch them now.
Draco pressed up to his knees, every inch of him trembling, and his eyes sought hers, desperate to reach her somehow. She thought she saw something in them, something that looked like resignation, and it splintered her heart. Before she had a chance to answer his unspoken question, Yaxley's boot slammed into his ribs, sending him back to the dirt; she could only watch as he fought for greedy gasps of air, his fingers begging for purchase in the dirt.
"Wait!"
Burning flesh wafted through the air, overcoming Hermione's senses as Bellatrix wand dug into her skin. "Once they're done with you, we'll deliver whatever's left of you to the Dark Lord. He'll want to get rid of you himself, I think." Draco's eyes shuttered against the words, his shoulders slumping in.
"I know where the Elder Wand is!" Her desperate cry cut through the clearing, and Draco's head jerked up, eyes wide and frantic at her confession.
"Granger, no! Don't—" His protest was cut off by another curse from Yaxley's wand, and Draco went down again, a grunt of pain punctuating his collapse to the ground. Still, he peered up at her, begging not to do this.
Once more, she tried to reach him through the Legilimency connection. Trust me. I'm here.
Hermione couldn't tell if he'd heard her, not when he was fighting to remain conscious. Pain blossomed at the crown of her head as Bellatrix ripped her head up once more, forcing her to meet her gaze. The woman's eyes were wide and frantic, unbridled glee shining in their depths. "Where?" When Hermione didn't answer immediately, Bellatrix shook her violently, her voice ratcheting up to a feral scream. "Tell me where it is, you filthy Mudblood whore."
Stars shot across her vision, brilliant flashes of white and gold that forced her eyes shut, and it took everything in Hermione not to fold, not to whimper at the pain as she stared back at the woman. "I can't tell you, but I can show you."
Snarling, Bellatrix spun Hermione around, shoving her wand in her face. "Don't play games with me, little girl. The Dark Lord wants that weapon." Shaking her, Bellatrix shouted in her face, spittle raining down on Hermione's skin. "You'll take me to it now." The witch whirled around, facing her companions. "Dolohov, take the Malfoy boy to the manor. I think it's high time we threw a party, don't you, Mudblood?." She paused, throwing her head back in giddy laughter, before dropping into a serious tone, her eyes dancing on the edge of insanity. "Tonight, we feast! The Order of the Phoenix falls for good!"
In one desperate bid to reach Draco again, Hermione cast the only words she could through the Legilimency before she'd slam the connection shut.
I'm here, Draco.
A brief pause, during which his head lifted, eyes glittering with tears, either from the pain or what she knew sounded like a goodbye in her tone.
Bellatrix strode away from Draco, dragging Hermione away by the hair and sick pride in the click of her heeled boots across the square. With each puff of dust that rose around them, Hermione's hatred of the woman grew.
But it was Draco's grunt of pain that solidified her resolve as she wrenched her head around, ignoring the tears that sprang to her eyes at the pain. Yaxley held him up as Dolohov twisted his wand, Draco's arm twisting high behind his back.
I love you.
His gasp was audible, mixed with a sob as Yaxley and Dolohov shouldered him between them, disappearing with a crack. Stumbling after Bellatrix, Hermione delved into herself, rebuilding the wall she'd abandoned.
Brick.
Harry falling, wide eyes empty, to the floor on the elaborate Manor tiling.
Brick.
Zabini forcing her hand and goading her to let loose. His twisted form falling quiet in the courtyard dust.
Brick.
Seamus' wide-eyed pleas for her to stop whatever it was she intended to do.
Brick.
Saying good-bye to Draco once more.
Brick brick brick.
The list of transgressions that had led her here, the ones she'd have to spend a lifetime trying to atone for, speared her onward until a deadly calm settled across her.
Whatever came, whatever fate awaited her, she'd meet it as their reckoning.
Snarling, Hermione lunged forward, throwing them both into Apparation with the image of a dilapidated old shop in her mind.
Colour whirled around them again, noises coming and going through the rapid-fire transportation, and they finally slowed, stumbling to a stop amongst broken old bottles Hermione knew well.
Ogden's Apothecary—the same place Neville had taken her after the battle at the manor. In that dusty little corner, she'd sobbed over Harry's death, avowing her revenge through broken cries.
Bellatrix whirled thrusting her wand in Hermione's face. Hermione didn't move—not a breath disturbing the wild woman's hair—defiance etched into her features., Rancid breath puffed into existence as the Bellatrix spoke. "You stupid, stupid witch." Running a finger along her cheek, Bellatrix huffed a tittering laugh of overconfidence. "I wonder which will get you killed first—your loyalty or your stubbornness."
Slipping her hand inside her robes, still unaffected by the crooked piece of timber in the other witch's hand, Hermione palmed the Elder Wand. It thrummed to life at her fingertips, begging to be used. Summoning the shimmering strands of magic rioting within her, she raised it in Bellatrix's face, watching with unbridled satisfaction as the woman's face paled beyond her already waxen visage.
With a flick of her wrist, Bellatrix's wand flew over Hermione's shoulder, landing with a quiet clatter. Hermione's lips twitched in a smile. "Incarcerous."
Thick, black ropes shot out, wrapping around Bellatrix's malnourished form and wending tight. A hiss issued from the woman's lungs, angry red burns appearing along her skin as Hermione drew them tighter and tighter. She opened her mouth to speak, but another slash of the Elder Wand fixed a gag between her teeth, silencing her.
The power of it was intoxicating, a heady triumph buoying her as she stalked around Bellatrix, and if she allowed herself, Hermione could lose herself to it.
But she'd done that once… when everything seemed to be lost. Now, she strode forward, running the wand along Bellatrix's skin where the gag rested. "You're going to be very useful to me, Bella."
The woman's eyes narrowed at the nickname; if looks could kill, it all would have been over right then. Instead, Hermione continued, drawing back to stare the woman down. "The Dark Lord trusts you. His most loyal follower," she parrotted, a smirk twisting her lips.
Even the gag couldn't contain Bellatrix's feral snarl as she lunged forward, but another slash of the wand and a muttered, "Petrificus totalus," Bellatrix stilled, only her eyes flashing in her rage. Mimicking Bellatrix's prowl, Hermione stepped around her, fingers delving into her matted hair and yanking her head back. "It would be so easy to end it all right here." Hermione forced a flicker of the black tendrils down her hand.
Almost of its own accord, the Elder Wand lifted, and Hermione pressed the tip of it into Bellatrix's throat, and she shifted, staring at the woman. She'd expected fear, but it was hatred that burned hot in Bellatrix's gaze. Against all odds, the sight forced a laugh from Hermione's throat.
The power grounded her, fortified her, steeled her. Like Ron, she could end it all right here, but the witch would be far more useful alive than dead.
Tunneling into the depths of her magic, Hermione tilted her head in an imitation of Bella's own mocking smile. "Imperio."
Immediately, the witch's face went slack, taut skin sagging to reveal her age. With purposeful slashes, Hermione removed the spells from the woman. The ropes disappeared, Bellatrix's arms hanging limply at her side; with the gag gone, she stared at Hermione open-mouthed.
Leaning into her space, Hermione flicked her wrist, praying that she hadn't got the location wrong. But after a moment of silence, she heard it: glass rattling in the back of the old apothecary, bottles shifting as something slid free, and then a glint of blue glass hurtled through the room, landing in her outstretched palm.
Heart in her throat, she held the bottle up to the light. It was old, the outside filthy with centuries of dirt and grime, but when she held it up to the slant of light coming through the boarded windows, liquid shifted within its confines.
Veritaserum. Just enough to loosen the witch's tongue.
Testing the unforgivable, Hermione commanded, "Bellatrix, open."
A sick thrill went through her as the woman complied—but Hermione didn't revel in the action as she cracked the seal on the stoppered vial, coaxing the remaining liquid into the dropper, and slipped it between her chapped lips.
It was almost too easy. A thousand questions rushed through Hermione's mind, but she started, "Tell me your name."
Automatically, Bellatrix answered. "Bellatrix Lestrange. Formerly Black."
Nodding, Hermione continued, "And what are you to the Dark Lord?"
This question lit a fire in the woman's eyes, her master reigniting the manic witch inside, and Hermione faltered a moment before the woman's gaze cleared, and she answered, "The Dark Lord is my beloved. I am his most faithful servant." Her tone was reverent, chilling Hermione to the bones.
Deeming the answers good enough, Hermione stepped further into Bellatrix's space, pressing her wand against her pulse point. "Tell me where he hides the snake."
Bellatrix began to shake, her lips snapping together as she fought the answer, but the unforgivable and the Veritaserum proved too much. Halting on a breath, Bellatrix panted, "In the cellar." Her lips snapped shut again before she forced out, "At Malfoy Manor."
Relief mixed with terror flit through her. They were correct—the snake was in the manor—but she would have to return to the place she was broken, relying on a cursed woman who hated her very existence to survive. But Hermione would work with whatever she could get.
Calming the tremor in her hands, Hermione raised her wand, leaning into the weight of into the Imperious. "You're going to take me to Maloy Manor as though I'm your prize and you've come to offer me to the Dark Lord."
Bellatrix nodded, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes, and Hermione knew the gloating Bellatrix would display would be far from fake, but she could feel the anger simmering in the woman that she was being commanded.
She knew that anger, had felt it herself. She was playing with fire, but it was all she had. "You'll do everything the Dark Lord tells you to do—torture me, try to break me, whatever he asks, until—" Hermione summoned her beaded bag, rummaging in its depths until she found what she was looking for.
Withdrawing the item, she pressed it into Bellatrix's hand, forcing the woman's gaze to meet hers, she continued. "Until he asks you to retrieve the snake." She released the woman's hand, leaving one of the remaining basilisk fangs in her hand.
It was a last-minute plan, her final hope that she could manipulate this the way she wanted. If not, she'd have to hope that Theo and Luna could continue this for her.
For them.
Heaving a deep breath, Hermione continued, ignoring the pit in her stomach that tried to urge her otherwise. "When the Dark Lord has you retrieve the snake, you are to dismantle the warding around it." The way the woman's brow wrinkled confirmed Hermione's suspicion—Nagini was heavily guarded. "And you are to stab it with this fang."
Mechanically, Bellatrix nodded, hand tightening over the fang. With a wave of the Elder Wand, Hermione disillusioned the fang, slipping it into Bellatrix's wand holster. Then, she summoned the witch's wand, fitting it into her palm. "Then, you will fight your way out, taking down as many Death Eaters as you can."
Hermione forced her breathing to slow. Ron still had a horcrux, and even with one fang in the manor, she had no idea how they would manage to destroy it.
Blind faith was all she had to drive her forward, her hands shaking as she paced a path in the dusty floor of the apothecary.
Finally, she stowed the Elder Wand in her beaded bag with a deep breath, then tucked it into the waistband of her pants. Hermione straightened, staring down the witch before her.
She wouldn't allow herself to fathom what would happen if this didn't work. And putting her fate in the hands of one the witches who most wanted her dead…
This was mental.
But, this was what she had, and she wouldn't look back now. Striding forward, Hermione stared at Bellatrix, conjuring the woman's smug and domineering sneer.
"Take me to your Dark Lord," she commanded. Bellatrix wrapped her hand half-heartedly around her wrist, and Hermione tried again. "Take me to Voldemort. And make it convincing."
Finally, a cruel sneer sprang to life on Bellatrix's lips, her hand wrapping savagely in Hermione's hair. If this didn't work, the witch would kill her—a fact Hermione could see raging in the woman's cold gaze. With another violent twist of her hair, Bellatrix forced Hermione to her knees with a sharp cry, Disapparating the pair of them with a crack!
When the world righted itself and Hermione found the ground beneath her feet again, they stood just outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix's hand winding mechanically into her hair.
Elaborately gilded metalwork was the only thing that separated Hermione from the end of this all—her death or Voldemorts—and she found that the only part of it she mourned was Draco's place in this all. That he might not make it out of this alive…
Steeling her spine, Hermione pushed the fear aside. If it was the last thing she did, she'd make sure Draco survived.
Arm raising triumphantly at the commands Hermione hissed at her, Bellatrix flung the gate open, her riotous laughter announcing their presence on the Malfoy estate. Each step toward the castle felt like a nail in Hermione's coffin, the looming manor suffocating in its command of the bleak landscape.
She would end it where it all began.
Flexing her wrist, she cocked her head at Bellatrix, flickers of black magic roiling on her fingertips that she quickly extinguished, commanding the witch to take her into the bowels of the manor. Suddenly, Narcissa Malfoy's voice echoed in her head, a hissing reminder of her the power she wielded in all of this. This is not your destruction, my dear.
This is your birth.
A/N: Many thanks to my alpha, LadyKenz347, for her tireless work! Unfortunately due to busy schedules, this fic will retain the weekly posting schedule. In addition, this chapter has not been betaed.
Chapter overview: In this chapter, Bellatrix calls Hermione a Mudblood whore and references giving her to Dolohov and Yaxley to do with as they will (i.e. noncon). None of this is depicted beyond a quick dialogue exchange which occurs over three paragraphs. If this is triggering for you, skip over three paragraphs beginning when Bellatrix drags Hermione across the clearing.
