A/N: I don't usually ask for readers to check out author's notes, but if you could please read the note at the end, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks, and happy Tuesday.


Chapter 40 - Three of Swords

The manor was shrouded in shadows. Walking up the long path—meant to deter and intimidate anyone that shouldn't visit—Hermione couldn't help but feel the sorrow that wrapped around what she was sure had once been a beautiful, stately home.

Now, it was a husk of its former glory. Spires that she could tell had once been adorned with sparkling windows were wrapped in fog, ivy that had wended its way around the brickscaping brittle and crumbling. Even the hedges had fallen into disrepair; their clean lines were marred by prickly spears reaching outward to snare in her hair. The brilliant white peacocks that were rumored to dot the Malfoy grounds had disappeared.

It was as though the magic that had sustained the land had forsaken the Malfoys when Voldemort took residence in their home.

With Bellatrix's hand tightly gripping her hair and forcing her head downward, Hermione's field of vision was limited to the ground before her, but she could sense the rest of the decay around her. Her own magic recoiled violently against it, fighting to both lash out and curl up within her.

Down the cracked drive and up the crumbling steps, Bellatrix dragged Hermione with the single-minded command to get her to the Dark Lord. Perhaps it was the frantic beating of Hermione's heart or the mantra in her head that this had to work, but Bellatrix's performance was convincing, and when Hermione went down on the worn concrete steps with a cry, the curl to Bella's lip was genuine.

Hermione fought the magic down again as she pushed to her feet, pebbles lodging in her palms. This was a dangerous ledge she walked.

The shiver that shuddered through her body wasn't exaggerated when the front door blasted open, red cloak-clad Vehme streaming through the doorway.

They flanked either side of her, their footsteps echoing through the tunnel the overgrown hedge had formed, their faces hidden behind their masks as they leveled their wands at her. They hurled insults at her, each of them hissing their hatred from the illusion of safety their garb offered.

She idly wondered how many of their faces she knew.

Bellatrix didn't pause, instead dragging Hermione through the open doorway and into the ancestral home. Hermione had not seen the foyer the last time she'd been here, kept to the dungeons first and Malfoy's wing of the manor later as she was. On either side of the room, a grand marble staircase ascended to the upper levels. An elaborate, golden and emerald chandelier threw intricate shadows over the walls and floors, casting the room in sharp contrast.

They didn't conceal the bloodstains on the floor.

Without warning, remembered screams echoed in Hermione's mind, a ghostly suggestion that some of those stains were likely from her friends. Gooseflesh rising on her arms, Hermione pressed her eyes shut, screwing her face up against the onslaught.

Brick.

Through the foyer and into the long, dark hallway, they walked, boot heels clicking on the tiled flooring. House-elves darted out of their way, their long ears downturned and expressions cast in fear.

Each step brought them closer to the drawing room, nearer the place Voldemort had broken her.

If she listened hard enough, she could hear the oppressive darkness of the dungeons calling for her return. The malevolent magic that had come to permeate the walls of the manor clashed against her own, and with a jolt, Hermione recoiled. An icy finger of fear slid down her back, settling low in her stomach as she tried to force herself forward.

Room after room streamed past them. Some were silent. Others held enclaves of wizards, each of them adorned in dark robes and carrying goblets in their hands. Her familiarity with their various faces fluctuated, but each fell in line behind them as they passed, a procession to their Dark Lord.

The revelry of the manor was much the same as it had been upon her initial departure, but this time it felt darker, more triumphant.

This time they awaited her death with palpable euphoria.

It was almost too much to concentrate on, willing herself calm while commanding Bellatrix forward, but she steeled her resolve, the large wooden doors of the drawing room looming before her.

Just like last time, guards flanked either side of the door. Neither of them bore the trademark hair of Ronald Weasley, though, and for that a brief flash of relief coloured her vision.

At least she wouldn't have to face him. Not yet, at least.

The lifted weight came crashing down upon her shoulders when she shouldered through the door.

A scream tore through the air, a knife in her gut.

Draco.

He was splayed on the grand tile, back bowed as tears streamed in torrents down his cheeks. Standing over Draco, a masked Death Eater twisted his wand, driving Crucio after Crucio into his limp form. Beneath him, Draco had soiled his pants, the strong smell of urine pervading the air, and each time he arched gracelessly, Voldemort let loose another dry laugh, staring down impassively from his throne atop the dais.

Standing to his right, Lucius watched on, his face a mask of impassivity.

Anger ignited in her stomach, a furious, roaring beast that narrowed her vision until the only thing she could see clearly was Voldemort's emaciated figure, the way his lips twisted making her sick. Surging forward with a snarl, Hermione lunged for him, stopping short forcibly when Voldemort raised his hand.

A semblance of a smile spreading across his sallow skin, Voldemort swept upward out of the dais and towards her, arms lifted wide as though he were hailing her arrival. "Ah, Miss Granger! How kind of you to join us!" He ground to a halt just before her, and through the haze of her anger, Hermione remembered her task.

A quick, silent command, Hermione forced Bellatrix to throw her at his feet. She landed in a heap, the toes of his boots inches from her nose.

Bones grinding together, she stared up at the Dark Lord.

He'd not changed, and yet— something about his appearance was more disheveled, a manic gleam in his eyes underscoring just how unhinged he was. But still, he cupped Bellatrix's face, peering deep into her eyes as he commended her success in catching Hermione and Draco.

Like a puppet pulling her strings, Hermione coaxed a simpering smile to the woman's cheeks, encouraging her to nuzzle her face into Voldemort's hand. Nausea roiled in her gut, that she was forcing such interactions, but selling this was the only opportunity she'd have to make it out of here alive.

Withdrawing the transfigured quill, Bellatrix discarded the false wand at his feet. "And her wand, my Lord." The woman let loose a peal of laughter that sent a shiver down Hermione's spine.

"Well done, Bella," he crooned, the inflection unsettling and evocative as he momentarily fell back on the charm he'd possessed as Tom. Turning, he settled his gaze on her, the twisted smile chilling her to the bone. "So disappointing. The 'smartest witch of her age.'" He scoffed a rattling laugh, echoed by his sycophants. "Given power beyond your wildest dreams and you failed to make anything of yourself."

His foot shot out, catching her in the ribs in a show of elementary violence, but it sent her splaying on her stomach. Around her, laughter echoed, but she only had eyes for Draco.

Draco, who inched toward her, bloody and battered, across the tile, his eyes wide. Draco, who had saved her in all of this.

The Dark Lord aimed another kick at her, stoking her magic hotter, churning brighter and stronger in her core as she waited, praying to whatever gods were listening, for the moment to strike.

Let him break her down if it took his attention away from Draco for just a moment. The corrupted force of his magic played over her skin like an oil slick, slimy and unyielding in its encapsulation of her.

Laughing maniacally, Voldemort whirled, uttering an unintelligible curse with a harsh slash of his wand. Long, iridescent strands of rope shot out of the end of Voldemort's wand, interlocking themselves into a string of chain. As they wound together with methodical clasps, they wrapped around Draco's body, binding him together. She could hear the chains rattle as Draco was levitated to the edge of her vision.

The change in position cast his face into sharp relief; deep black bruises ringed his eyes, and blood caked his bottom lip, the flesh of it torn where he'd bitten through. One eye was swollen shut and lined with yellowing mucus, and his normally white-blonde hair was tinged a rusty colour. A wound on his shoulder wept blood down his arm and onto the floor.

She knew she shouldn't, but Hermione couldn't help the shattered whisper of his name that escaped her at his appearance. He looked broken, the glimmer of life in his eyes extinguished as he lolled helplessly.

The Dark Lord released her from the hold his magic held her in, allowing her to slump to the ground. If she closed her eyes, she might imagine she was in the same place she had been the first time he'd torn her to shreds, debasing her in front of his entire following. The strength borne to her through the destruction rose up, skittering along her skin and bolstering the wavering fight within her.

"And you," he aimed at Draco, his tone curdling with hatred. "Pureblood heir to one of the most powerful lineages in the world, and it's all been thrown away for the likes of a Mudblood bitch too stupid to make use of the power afforded her." A sardonic laugh filtered from his throat, the sound of it echoing off the high ceilings suspended above them. "But I suppose that's what I get for allowing a boy to play dress-up among men."

Forcing herself onto her knees, Hermione tugged the string of magic chaining Bellatrix to her, forcing the woman to laugh. With a simpering smile, she turned to Voldemort, whispering, "And what of the girl, my Lord?"

Hermione was expecting it, but the grin that worked its way across Voldemort's face chilled her to the bone. "Why don't you have a little fun, Bella?"

Gritting her teeth, Hermione commanded Bellatrix to turn, aim the crooked length of her wand, and utter the curse.

"Crucio."

It slammed into her side like a hot poker, the strength of it bowing her back and forcing a strangled gasp from her throat. Like a wildfire, it radiated outward, enveloping her limbs in its smothering embrace.

Distantly, she was aware of Draco's writhing cries as Voldemort turned his own wand on him. Through the haze of pain, she pried one eyelid open, tears streaming down her cheek as she watched the man she loved thrash.

Again and again, the magic drove into her until she allowed her mind to drift, tunneling into the own magic she held dormant, waiting for an opening.

Until a throat cleared across the drawing room, followed by a distinctive voice. "My Lord, the Carrows are reporting a disruption at Hogwarts."

The curses stopped, whether through a command she didn't remember giving or Bellatrix' very real shock that Hermione could feel as she battled to maintain the hold on the Imperio. Finally, the wave of magic stopped, leaving her limp and panting on the floor.

Hermione knew that voice. Even through the shuddering pain in her limbs, the terror shrieking in her mind, she'd recognise it anywhere.

Standing on the precipice of the room, Ron surveyed them, his face carefully blank. Beneath the smattering of red freckles, his skin held a sickly pallor, but he strode forward, eyes locked on Voldemort looming over her.

"The message was cut short, but I was able to discern that Alecto detected an anomaly in the warding. It was quick—no more than a few seconds." He paused, gaze flickering over her prone body before he resumed his stance, addressing the Dark Lord. "I have instructed Amycus to investigate and—"

Slashing his wand, Voldemort silenced Ron, rounding on Draco. His eyes were wide, the feral red of them gleaming as he towered over them. "Where is she?" Draco flinched, coiling into himself as he trembled from the after-effects of the spell. Another slash of Voldemort's wand sliced a deep cut in Draco's back, blood spilling from the length. "Lucius!"

The man hurried forward, the length of his blond hair pulled into a ponytail riddled with matting and lumps. Lip trembling, he swept into a bow before Voldemort, gazing up at him piteously. "Yes, my Lord?"

Fury mottling his skin, he stalked toward the man, a slash of his wand rooting Lucius to the spot. "Who would help her?"

But Lucius trembled in his grasp, pale complexion going sallow. "I— I don't know," he uttered, wild eyes darting to the other Death Eaters, but none of them came to his aid, sinking further into the shadows of the room instead. "There's no one that I can think of—"

His gaze darted to the side again, unable—unwilling—to meet the Dark Lord's gaze, and Hermione sucked in a harsh breath.

Heartless though he was, Lucius Malfoy would protect his son and wife to the very end, and the hesitation allowed her a brief second to restore her hold on Bellatrix, praying they'd had time to find the diadem.

"Snape. The Potions master," she coaxed from Bella's lips, the woman turning on her heel and hurrying to Voldemort. "He's the boy's godfather. If anyone will allow my bitch of a sister into the castle, it would be him."

Shuttering her eyes, Hermione sent a silent apology to the universe for adding yet another name to the list of people she'd thrown into the crossfire.

A furious shriek left the Dark Lord's mouth, throwing his arms out with an arc of volatile magic. Colliding with several masked Death Eaters, they went down, motionless, and Voldemort stalked away from the Malfoy patriarch. "Find them both! Send the Carrows to track down the bitch and anyone that helped her." He threw a look over his shoulder at Lucius. "And when they're here, bring them to me."

Scrambling forwards, Lucius whimpered pleas that fell on deaf ears. The Death Eaters sprinkling the room sprung into action, two adorned in the red robes of the Vehme flanking either side of Lucius, shouldering his shaking form between them.

"My Lord?" One prompted, his voice young beneath his mask.

"Take him to the cellars," Voldemort drawled, sick glee colouring his words. "Miss Granger's old cage should do for now."

The words wrought another tremor of terror through her, flashes of the damp walls and the scrabbling sound of rats scurrying in the darkened corners freezing her in place. For a half a moment, Hermione felt deep, unrelenting sympathy for Lucius.

Eyes growing wide at the condemnation, Lucius lurched forward. "My Lord, please. Please. I didn't know. Cissy—" The glimmer of bravery he'd displayed upon his first questioning had evaporated, all but replaced by the simpering quaver in his tone as he dropped to his knees, lowering his face to the floor in a deep bow. "She's never been a loyal follower, but I thought that my influence would help! Let me find her. I'll— I'll do whatever you ask, my Lord."

But Voldemort kicked him away, disgust in his features as he turned away. "To the cellars," he commanded again, Lucius' cries diminishing as he was dragged away. "The rest of you; go to Hogwarts. Track down the witch—I want her alive."

He paused, turning to stare down at Draco. "We'll show him what happens to blood traitors."

Hermione's blood ran cold at the implication.

Surely Narcissa, Theo, and Luna had made it out of Hogwarts by now or Snape would assist in their safe passage out. If not…

She'd just signed their death warrants.

Sweeping toward her, Voldemort crooked his finger at Bellatrix. "The snake. Bring me the snake!"

Wrenching Draco up by his hair, Voldemort growled. "Make yourself useful, boy." A harsh slash of his wand shredded the fabric of Draco's robe sleeve, falling open over the Dark Mark that marred the skin, ugly and black.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Voldemort pressed his wand to the Dark Mark.

Immediately, pops of Apparition sounded around the drawing room, cloaked Death Eaters arriving in droves.

Bellatrix turned, hurtling out of the room, her robes swishing around her, an almost robotic urgency to her pace. When the doors settled back into place, Hermione closed her eyes, building her magic in a thick wall around her, Voldemort too lost in his victory speech to the remaining Death Eaters to pay her any mind.

Wrapping it around herself like a cloak, Hermione focused, following the threads of magic that had become inextricably woven into her very being. The afforded strength was a comfort, a balm to the terror fighting to render her frozen.

But she wouldn't allow them the luxury of her immobility again. Not when everything she stood to lose was splayed on the floor before her or fighting for their lives hundreds of kilometres away.

She'd never afford them the peace of her passivity again.

Closing her eyes, she took a steadying breath, magic crackling along her limbs as Voldemort reached the crescendo of his speech.

"Tonight, we will exterminate the remaining scourge that challenges me!" His voice echoed around the room, larger than life. "And when they're gone—when we no longer have to worry about those who seek to hinder our goals—we will step out of the shadows and rule."


A/N: Hey friends. Thanks for reading tonight. As I'm sure some of you are aware, I almost didn't post this chapter tonight. This fic was plagriarised in its entirety (down to the author's notes) on a site called Quotev. I just found out about it yesterday, but, thanks to the quick action and support of some fandom friends, the plagiarised copy was pulled down. I'd like to make it very clear that I have only posted this fic on Archive of Our Own and FFN. Any other copies under any other pen names have not been posted by me. If you know of any others, please PM me at your earliest convenience so I can get those copies pulled. This does not, however, mean that I'm against you downloading a copy to read offline on whatever platform works best for you. The internet is not an accessible place sometimes; if you need to download my fics for accessibility (whether that be a medical disability or you just prefer to read offline!) this is in no way targeting you. This is simply calling out those who stole my work without attribution.

Because I have to run a tutoring session in the next few minutes, I haven't been able to get a copy of this back from my beta, so this chapter has only been run through Grammarly; I wanted to get this up before going to bed since I'm not feeling well. Any errors herein are my own.

Alpha credits to LadyKenz347.