A/N: Hello, my dears! How's everybody doing? I hope you're all safe and in the pink of health. I apologize for the long absence (again), but you're all probably used to it by now. Anyways, here's a little something to keep the ball rolling. I'm working on the story, so never fear. It won't be an unfinished or abandoned fic. Just hang on, we're nearing the end.
Thank you so much to pgoodrichboggs and Marshmallowman for staying with the story and leaving some encouraging words. To my silent readers, thanks as well. I hope you all enjoy this new installment. It might feel like a filler, but it's setting some things up. You'll know in the end. Take care y'all and happy reading.
Chapter 37 - Some Hard Decisions
If there ever was a time for dogged determination it was now. The future, no, the very life of her son depended on her next move. Draco was not like her. He would not remain on the sidelines. He would be in the thick of things, taking charge. In this regard, he was very much like his father. Lucius was not one to take anything lying down. He would always do things his way. That's why Narcissa needed to make him think that the idea she was about to 'suggest' to him had been his the whole time.
She had gone over her plan a hundred times, tweaking every little detail until she was convinced it was feasible and would save both her son and the girl he loved. It would involve a big sacrifice, but for the safety of her son, she was willing to give the world. Lucius would hate her for it, but eventually, he would realize it was their only way out. If only she could divulge everything to him. She swiftly tamped down the sentiment. This was something she must do alone.
Squaring her shoulders, Narcissa took a deep breath, gently patted her perfectly coiffed hair, and knocked twice on the door of Lucius' study before pushing it open. The smile she had plastered on her face fell when she saw the state her husband was in. Lucius was not one to indulge in drink, especially in the early hours of the morning. Yet, he appeared to be as drunk as a skunk (as the Muggles would say). The smell of stale sweat, blood, and wine made Narcissa's stomach churn. Not because she was offended by it, she wasn't squeamish. It was what it represented that made her cringe.
The whole room stank of defeat, a painful reminder of the last time she'd seen her husband looking lost. It was the night he violated the sanctity of their home by bringing a practically comatose Dark wizard inside. Little did she know how it would also be the beginning of her ordeal. After that night, her husband became even more distant, obsessing over things she could barely understand. He pursued power like it was the only thing breathing life into him, ruthlessly taking over the Dark Lord's army, claiming everything he did was in his name.
But Narcissa knew better. It wasn't out of blind loyalty, not even mere lust for power or greed, as some people thought. Even after Lucius' too generous contributions to the Dark Lord's cause, the Malfoy fortune was still more than enough to last their family three lifetimes. The reason was more personal and ran deeper. Lucius had always wanted to rise above his family's expectations, to prove to them that he was more than just a 'soft and spoiled aristocrat' as his father used to call him. Everything Lucius did was to keep the Malfoy name on top of the food chain as his father demanded. Even rotting in his grave, the cruel and domineering Abraxas Malfoy held sway over their lives.
"Cissy," Lucius rasped, cutting into her thoughts. "My beautiful wife. The pure one, unblemished and untarnished by all this madness. Narcissa, the saintly wife of the demon, Lucius Malfoy. An angel and a demon. Aren't we a pair?"
Lucius' quiet laughter sent chills down Narcissa's spine. She couldn't let her husband go down this path of self-destruction. If she did, they would all be lost. Her life didn't matter. She would willingly go down with her husband. But Draco shouldn't be a part of this, he must still have a future he could look forward to. With his beloved witch, if possible. Swallowing her fear, Narcissa dug deep into her soul and laughed, too.
"Yes, aren't we? The perfect pair, if you ask me. We complement each other, don't you think? Good and evil. One wouldn't survive without the other," she said as she walked towards her husband, hiding trembling hands clasped behind her back.
She had to be the strong one for once.
Lucius looked at her with hesitation. He knew she didn't like being around him when he was drunk. Usually, she would send house elves to clean after him and bolt out of the room without a word. Even when he baited her into an argument, she would act like she'd heard nothing. It took her years to understand it was intentionally done to push her away. Lucius didn't like showing his weak, vulnerable side. It would ruin his carefully crafted facade of cold indifference. But she couldn't let him get away with it this time. Not only because of her plan but more importantly, because she couldn't bear to see him like this. He was still her husband and she loved him.
Lucius was sprawled on the sofa, arms around an empty bottle of Superior Red, clinging to it as if it was the only thing keeping him safe from the outside world. His bloodshot eyes followed Narcissa's progress warily, like a wounded cat fearing the approach of a much bigger predator. Narcissa smiled, she mustn't show weakness. Lucius gravitated towards the strong. He would not respect her if she appeared feeble.
Her husband sat upright and scooted to the side to give her space. When she was finally settled on the sofa she pulled him towards her and quietly laid his head on her lap. He trembled when her fingers started running through his blonde locks, soothing away the unusual tangles.
"Tell me what happened, dearest," she said, tracing lazy circles on her husband's temples. "Or you can sleep if you want. I'll stay here with you."
Lucius closed his eyes and sighed. Narcissa thought he had truly gone to sleep when his body began twitching uncontrollably. She sat back up and glanced down at her husband in horror, fearing that he was experiencing the aftereffects of a powerful Cruciatus curse. But when she looked closer, she found that he was laughing. Eventually, the madness stopped and the uncontrollable laughter turned into heart-rending sobs.
"Everything's falling apart, Cissy. It's just like the first time. He's not listening to me," Lucius said, "He's even worse now. He's obsessing over a girl, for Salazar's sakes!"
"Shh...it's okay, dearest. It's okay," Narcissa said, smoothing Lucius' hair.
"No...no...you don't understand. I came back to change everything...to make our lives better...to make you and Draco happy...to take what's rightfully mine! He shouldn't have come out of that coma...he should've stayed asleep...he should've stayed asleep," Lucius rambled on, repeating the last phrase over and over like a long-forgotten mantra.
Narcissa could barely understand what her husband was saying, but a few words stuck to her mind—I came back to change everything. What did he mean by that?
"What are you saying, Lucius?"
Lucius turned tired eyes to her. The wealth of emotions in them almost made her gasp. In all of their years together, never had Lucius let himself be exposed like this. It was as if he was begging her to look into his mind, to see for herself the secrets he was hiding. A small part of her wanted to, but she was afraid she would never be able to look at her husband the same way if she saw the horrible things he'd done first hand. It was one thing to hear it being whispered about and another to witness them with one's own eyes.
"Just tell me what happened, Luci," she said as she caressed his cheek. He instinctively turned towards her palm, wallowing in the sweetness of the gesture. "Talk to me, my dearest," she urged.
After a moment of hesitation, Lucius said, "I killed again, Cissy. I killed a lot of people."
Narcissa fought the urge to flinch and kept on running her fingers through her husband's hair to encourage him to keep on talking.
"I had to. I did the wretched fools a service, you know," Lucius laughed bitterly. "A quick death is better than getting tortured endlessly and repeatedly, isn't it? They would've spilled their guts under Bella's creative spells. Some of them were probably Order members. I had to kill them all...before they ruined everything…I had to silence them..."
She wasn't naive, she knew her husband had killed people before and she had made peace with it. But now she was confused. Wasn't he supposed to capture Order members? Wasn't he expected to kill his Lord's sworn enemies? Why didn't he want them captured and tortured for information?
Narcissa had long ago stopped believing in Lucius' Blood Supremacy ideals and she didn't approve of his support for the Dark Lord. She hated seeing him fawning over that egotistical madman. Still, she knew how important his position in the Dark Lord's army was to him. Why was he saying such strange things then?
"I'm tired, Cissy. I'm tired of fighting...tired of killing for him..."
Could this be what she'd been waiting for? Was Lucius ready to break away from the Dark Lord?
"Then why don't you stop, dearest? We don't need him, do we? Why don't we leave England and go somewhere he can't find us?"
Lucius looked up at her, hope blossoming in his slate-gray eyes. It disappeared as quickly as it came and was replaced by a hardness that disheartened Narcissa.
"Do you want to die, woman? Do you think there's any place in this god-forsaken earth he cannot reach you?" Lucius sat upright and pulled up his shirt sleeve, exposing the ghastly tattoo on his arm. "This is not something you can remove with a quick scouring spell, Cissy. As long as this is on my arm, I'm bound to him. And if you disappear," Lucius laughed bitterly. "He would torture me to death to find you and Draco. I'm not a monster and whether you believe me or not...I've thought of sending you and Draco away…many times...many, many times..."
As Lucius' voice drifted away, his body slumped back into Narcissa's lap, curling into a fetal position as it was once again racked by uncontrollable sobs.
"I should've just killed him that night...I should've just killed him…"
Narcissa hated what she was about to do, but she couldn't pass up this opportunity to steer her husband away from that evil madman.
"Forgive me, my love," she whispered and turned Lucius' face towards her. She looked deep into his eyes, gently breaking through the flimsy barriers of his mind.
When she was finished, she placed Lucius in a deep, dreamless sleep. He would wake up later, refreshed and filled with an idea—her idea—on how to deceive, and possibly defeat, the greatest dark wizard of all time.
Neville nodded in appreciation as Ginny obliterated the statue of an unnamed wizard with one stroke of her wand. The Reducto spell was one of her best spells. The others were paired up, practicing dueling with utmost seriousness. Almost all members of the Resistance had shown up at the Room of Requirement when news of Professor Snape's expulsion reached Neville. Thanks to the crystals around their necks, they were able to coordinate with each other with ease. Only the four Slytherins, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Sebastian were not in the room. At Harry's behest, Neville had asked Theo and Blaise to scour the castle for Draco. Daphne, hearing of his instructions to her two housemates, volunteered to wait for Draco to show up in the Slytherin Common Room while Sebastian left just minutes ago to deliver a package for Draco.
The Headmaster's replacement, Alecto Carrow, was a high ranking Death-Eater. Her arrival in the castle was a clear declaration of Voldemort's interference in the school. He was no longer being subtle about it. But more importantly, it was a death sentence for the Resistance. Professor Snape, though also a Death-Eater, was a double-agent, something Neville would not have known had he not gotten involved with the Order of the Phoenix. It was a highly guarded Order secret, which he feared had now been blown open. He silently prayed for the brave Headmaster's safekeeping.
Neville looked up when a soft hand slipped into his. He smiled and pecked the cheek of his girlfriend. Luna was not one to get rattled easily, but he caught the brief flashing of fear in her silvery-gray eyes. Still, her innate strength held fast.
"It's going to be okay, Nev," she said, scooting closer to him.
"I'm afraid for the Order. Things must be horrible outside," he said, leaning against her shoulder. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is getting anxious, I think if he's taken the time to invade our school."
"He invaded Hogwarts a long time ago, Nev. Snape's a Death Eater," Luna said.
"Yes, but he's our Death Eater," Neville replied with a smile.
"Good point," Luna conceded.
Snape was theirs, no matter what other people said. None of them truly knew him. Even they only discovered his true allegiance because of their connection to the Order.
"I hope no one's been arrested...or killed."
"I'm sure they're fine, Nev. They've been through this before."
"But Vol-...'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' wasn't this powerful back then. He didn't control the Ministry during the first war."
It was a good thing he caught himself before he said the name out loud. Luna had warned against the use of his name in conversations. She said that her mother once told her how a name or word could be turned into a taboo. Anyone saying a taboo word could easily be traced and hunted down.
"Godric's arse, it's so hard to say 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'," he said, pulling away to look at Luna. "Some of our members have already adapted the Slytherins' name for him, so why don't make it official? From now on 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' will be called DL by the Resistance. More convenient and safe, just in case he thought of turning his many names into taboos."
Luna smiled, "Yes! We should. I'll tell the others," she said before getting to her feet. She ran to the other members of the Resistance and gathered them around her.
Neville beamed with pride at how his girlfriend had become a vital and respected member of the Resistance. Suddenly, a loud popping noise beside him almost knocked him off his seat. From where the popping came stood a wizened, old elf. The colorful emblem emblazoned on its pristine white toga showed that he was one of the Hogwarts House elves.
"Headmaster said to come to yous if there's trouble," the old elf squeaked.
"W-what? Trouble? What do you mean?"
"Trouble coming. Prepare." With another pop, the elf disappeared.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
The walls shook with each explosion. Someone was trying to blast their way through. In an instant, wands were pointed at the source of the racket. Neville had earlier vanished the door they used to enter the room, leaving a large expanse of the stone wall in its place.
"What's happening, Neville?" Ron shouted over the loud pounding.
"I don't know," he shouted back.
"We saw you talking to an elf. What did it say?" Seamus said.
"The Headmaster sent it to warn us."
"Snape knew this would happen?" Dean said incredulously.
"I knew it! We shouldn't have trusted a Slytherin," Ron growled.
"Hey! That's unfair!" Tracey said, turning to Ron with blazing eyes.
"Well, isn't it mighty convenient that your housemates aren't here just when things are going to shit? Maybe they gave you up, Tracey."
"Enough, Ron! You're being a right git—"
"Stop defending them, Ginny. Just because you're snogging one of them doesn't mean you can trust them. For all you know they're sniveling up to Carrow right—Hey!"
If their situation hadn't been so dangerous, Neville would have laughed. It wasn't everyday that one saw Ron Weasley running around with bats flying out his nose. Ginny's bat-bogey hex truly was a work of art.
"Is there any way out of here?" Hannah asked, eyes roving around the room.
"Maybe we could ask it to show us," Lavender suggested.
"Yes! We should ask the room to let us out," Parvati said.
Justin Finch-Fletchley rolled his eyes at the two girls. "Duh! It doesn't work that way. We're already inside the Room of Requirement. It already gave us what we asked for."
"Oh, and you know everything now, eh?" Seamus said, glaring at Justin. "You're suddenly the bloody authority on the Room of Requirement? I say we give it a try."
"We'll be wasting our time—"
"We've got nothing to lose. I'm with Lavender and Parvati," Padma said, smiling at her sister. "But we also have to prepare for whatever happens if we don't get out."
"I know," Neville mumbled. His mind was already formulating plans for escape. He must not let his fear overwhelm him. Taking a deep breath, Neville concentrated on summoning the old house elf Snape sent. He didn't know if it would come back, but it was their best bet.
"We're in trouble. We need help," he said, praying that it was enough. When nothing happened, he repeated the words, only louder and with emphasis on the word 'trouble'. He sighed when the old elf reappeared in front of him with another pop.
"Yous in trouble?" it squeaked.
"Yes! Very big trouble," Neville said. He dropped down to his knees so he could be at eye level with the elf. "You have to help us get out of here."
The elf's brow krinkled into a frown. "No way out. Only Archie can go."
"Archie? Who's Archie?" Seamus said, glancing down at the elf.
"I is Archie," the elf said, its frown deepening.
"Your name is Archie?" Seamus laughed. "Whoever gave you that name?"
Neville ignored his arse of a friend and turned his attention on the elf named Archie, who was looking ready to disapparate and abandon them because of Seamus' remark.
"Archie, can you please help us? We really have to leave now," he said, hoping that the elf would understand and sympathize with their predicament.
After a moment of hesitation, Archie nodded. "Take Archie's hand. I is taking yous out," the elf said, extending a gnarled hand towards Neville.
"Take them first," Neville said. "Can you do it two at a time?"
When Archie nodded, Neville called out to the girls and quickly explained what Archie was about to do. As soon as the girls were ready, Archie disapparated with Lavender and Parvati. When the elf came back, he had another house elf in tow. Neville couldn't be happier. Within minutes, only he, Luna, Ginny, and Ron were left casting protective spells at the now heavily damaged wall. It had so many cracks he was sure it would come crumbling down with the next destructive spell.
"Nev, let's go," Ron said as he grabbed Archie's hand.
Neville turned to run towards the two when another loud explosion sent him flying into a column. He landed hard on his stomach, the pain radiating from his sides telling him that he had broken a couple of ribs. He looked up just in time to find Luna and Ginny disapparating with Archie's friend. Luna was about to run towards him, but the elf, thankfully, was able to grab her back and disapparate with her in an instant.
Archie and Ron appeared to have been knocked unconscious by the blast. Fortunately, they were hidden behind a large chunk of dislodged wall. The room was swathed in smoke coming from the smoldering ruins, which gave the three of them enough cover. Neville tried to rise, but pain radiated down his body. And it wasn't from his broken ribs. One of the intruders had already spotted him. Ignoring the excruciating pain, Neville twisted around and pointed his wand at the one who hexed him. He must keep the man's attention on him. Archie was already stirring awake and he must protect the two. He just hoped the elf would have no qualms in disapparating with Ron and leaving him behind.
"Stupefy!" he screamed.
The exertion was agonizing and took his breath away, but it was worth it. His attacker was blasted away and hit the opposite wall with a satisfying crunch. His victory, however, was short-lived. There were more hooded figures stepping through the newly created gap. He couldn't risk exposing Archie and the still unconscious Ron. Unfortunately, the pain was now unbearable, preventing him from focusing his magic. He was also even more far away from his two companions. They would all be caught if he crawled towards them and revealed their position.
Archie, he also saw, had been injured. His arm was bleeding profusely, drenching his toga in crimson. Still, the elf was exerting effort to reach him. Neville doubted if the elf would have enough strength to disapparate with both him and Ron. It would be risky enough for him to take Ron, adding another wizard into the mix could be disastrous.
"Archie," he whispered as loudly as he could without catching the intruders' attention.
Good thing elves had exceptional hearing. Archie turned to him, his frightened, wide eyes the size of saucers.
"Are you okay?" The elf nodded.
"Can you disapparate?" Another nod.
"Can you take him with you," he asked, pointing at Ron. The elf hesitated, apparently comprehending his request. After a beat, he nodded. Neville sighed in relief.
"Go, leave. Now. Please."
As Archie slowly sat up, Neville added, "And don't come back for me."
For a while he thought the elf would refuse, but Archie took Ron's hand and rose to his feet. With a last baleful look, to let Neville know he wasn't happy with the last command, Archie tightened his fingers around Ron's limp hand and disappeared with a crack.
Neville was drained. He slumped back against the column and closed his eyes.
When he next opened them, three wands were pointed at his face.
"Shit," was the last word he breathed before his world turned black.
Being cooped up in a place without knowing what would happen next could drive anyone crazy. Being cooped in a place knowing a dangerous, dark wizard had complete control over your entire world would drive her crazy. Which was why Hermione wished she could sleep through the day. She couldn't go crazy if she was oblivious to her surroundings, could she? Unfortunately, her brain wasn't too keen on slumber. It was more interested in finding a way out. To her hyperactive mind, sleep was not a solution. It was a futile attempt to hide. It was the coward's way out. And she was no coward.
With a sigh, Hermione threw back the comforter and swung her legs to the side of the bed. She had been quite surprised when Voldemort (or Tom, as he instructed her to call him), personally took her to what would be her room, as he said with a smirk, until they were married. The thought made her skin crawl. The Dark Lord's plans for her extended beyond the binding of their magic. He was planning on making a real family with her. His ultimate goal was to have the most powerful wizard or witch for an heir. Hermione nearly gagged.
What have you gotten yourself into now, Hermione?
Are you ready to become Tom's broodmare? Are you ready to bring life to his spawn? Will he stop at one? Or is he expecting you to give him an army?
This time, Hermione did gag. She barely made it to the ensuite before she was splashing the ornate tile floors with last night's meager dinner. Her whole body shook, her legs barely keeping her upright. She fell to her knees and wept. Draco must be so mad at her right now. She didn't want to think of him, it was too dangerous, but she couldn't help it. She missed him terribly.
Control your thoughts, her inner voice scolded.
She had to agree with it for once. The Dark Lord had an annoying way of popping up unannounced. Every minute of the last two days had been nerve-wracking. She hardly slept, and the one time she dozed off she woke up with the feeling of being watched. As far as she could tell, she was alone. Still, there was an eerie presence in the room.
Slowly, she got to her feet and walked towards the marble sink to wash the stink of sick from her mouth. She avoided glancing at the large, gilded mirror over the counter. Somehow, looking at it made the feeling of being watched even more real. After making sure her stomach had settled down, she hurriedly left the ensuite and went to the tall windows overlooking the gardens. It was futile to dwell on things she couldn't change. All she could do now was to stay prepared for anything. Although she didn't think the Order would be rescuing her anytime soon, they just didn't have the numbers, she must be vigilant nonetheless. Also, knowing Albus Dumbledore, she doubted he would come barging down the gates of Voldemort's manor to demand her release. He would bide his time and wait for the most opportune moment to strike. She would've done the same. No sense taking unnecessary risks, after all. Especially since it was her fault she was in this mess in the first place. Voldemort didn't go traipsing around Hogsmeade looking for her, she practically fell into his lap.
Being reminded of her captor made her wonder at the glaring differences between this timeline's Voldemort and the one in her original one. For one thing, the one here didn't look anything like the aging and snakelike wizard she saw during the Battle of Hogwarts. This Voldemort looked too young and too human for comfort. He could even be considered handsome, albeit in a sinister and dark way. Could it be because he did not lose his body when he attacked Harry in this timeline, but rather went into a coma? Could those years he spent 'sleeping' rejuvenated his body to the point where time had gone backward for him? If he didn't lose his body and turn into vapor when he tried to kill Harry, then a piece of his soul couldn't have latched onto Harry. More importantly, Harry wouldn't be the accidental Horcrux he was in her original timeline.
And where the hell was Nagini? She remembered how Voldemort kept his giant snake beside him all the time. Here, though, there seemed to be no sign of her. He could be hiding Nagini somewhere else, but there didn't seem any reason for him to do so. This was his house, she would've been free to roam it. Also, there were several theories regarding Voldemort's attachment to the snake, one of which was him possessing it to survive after he lost his body. It could be the reason why she was always around him. She wasn't just a Horcrux, she was a life source. Regulus correctly identified Voldemort's five Horcruxes. The question was if Lucius, who had Regulus' diary, was able to find them all. What would he have done with them if he did?
A soft knock on her door pulled Hermione from her thoughts. It must be the young girl who came to tidy up the room yesterday. She was a shy, self-effacing girl with dirty blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes, probably no older than sixteen. Hermione didn't want to think about the circumstances that brought the girl to the Dark Lord's employ. She hoped she was at least here of her own volition and getting paid to work. Considering who her employer was, though, it was highly unlikely.
"Yes, come in, please," Hermione called out without looking away from the beautiful garden below. It was strange to find something so lovely in a place of evil. Hermione couldn't tell what made her glance back, but she was thankful she did. Only her quick reflexes, honed from dodging hexes and curses while on the run, saved her from getting stabbed in the back. Literally. With a quick sidestep, she was able to evade the glinting knife aimed at her back. The girl stumbled forward when her knife failed to find her target, the lethal blade embedding itself into the wooden window sill instead.
Hermione couldn't understand what was happening. Who sent this girl to assassinate her? It couldn't be Voldemort, he had made his plans for her crystal clear and it didn't involve killing her. Not yet, anyway. His Death Eaters, no matter how much they abhorred Mudbloods, wouldn't dare touch a hair on her head for fear of facing the Dark Lord's wrath, either. Her questions were answered when the girl turned and lunged at her with gnarled hands, her wild eyes reflecting the madness within. Unprepared for the assault, Hermione lost balance and tumbled backward, taking the girl with her.
"He's mine, you bitch! You cannot take him away from me," she screamed as she straddled Hermione, her sharp fingernails digging into her victim's cheeks.
Hermione hardly felt the burn, she was more focused on keeping her attacker at bay. She grabbed the girl's wrists and tried to push her away, but her insanity had given her inhuman strength. When the girl broke free from her hold, she immediately went for Hermione's throat.
"He's not for you! I cannot let you have him," the girl sobbed as she continued to squeeze Hermione's throat. "You bewitched him, didn't you? Bitch! After you're dead he'll return to me because he's mine!"
Hermione has had enough. She didn't care for what the girl was saying. She didn't even know who she was referring to. Planting her feet firmly on the cold floor, Hermione pushed her body up and with a hard jerk to the side, dislodged the hysterical girl from her lap. Scrambling to her feet, Hermione ran to the window, pulled out the knife, and twisted around to face her opponent. Only to realize too late how close her attacker already was.
The girl's blue eyes flared in disbelief, her mouth twisting in a silent scream. As the girl slowly slid to the floor, Hermione stared with growing horror at the hilt of the knife protruding from the girl's chest.
"No, no, no, no. Oh, gods, no! Please, no!" Hermione screamed as she crawled towards the girl. She wanted to pull out the knife but her trembling hands wouldn't move. The girl's eyes swiveled to Hermione, gone was the murderously insane rage. In its place was a frantic panic that gradually turned to resignation. Hermione reached for the girl's outstretched hand, instinct goading her to listen to what could be her last words.
"I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to," Hermione sobbed.
The girl nodded and smiled faintly.
"I k-know. N-not your f-fault. S-stay a-away f-from h-her...don't b-believe anything she says. Sh-he's never going to accept you. She's going to kill―"
Before the girl could finish her story a flash of green light hit her squarely in the chest, extinguishing the light from her brilliant blue eyes. Hermione's head snapped up, searching for the source of the lethal spell. But, as before, she was alone in the room with the ill-fated girl.
Hermione gently closed the blonde girl's eyes and tucked her hands atop her stomach. She had an inkling the girl had been put under some kind of spell, a modified Imperio that turned her into an unwitting assassin. Still, she couldn't understand why the girl (or whoever was controlling her) had been so angry at her for taking 'him' away. Could she be referring to Voldemort? Highly possible since she had just recently been introduced as his 'future wife". There could be a few delusional women in his circle who might think she was a willing participant in this macabre affair.
However, it was the girl's last words that stuck to Hermione's brain. The girl warned her to stay away from someone, from her. Who could 'her' be?
Whoever had sent the Avada must be highly skilled in non-verbal spells and very light on their feet. They didn't want Hermione to know their identity, either.
Which meant the threat to her life didn't die with the girl and they would try again. And again. And again.
"I never thought you to be the violent type, Hermione, but I must say, this is more to my liking," Tom said as he languidly strode into the room, his rich baritone laced with irritating amusement.
"I-I didn't kill her," Hermione said quietly.
"Of course you didn't. The knife did the killing," Tom chuckled.
"She attacked me with that knife," Hermione said, hating her defensive tone.
A frown marred Tom's brow, his dark eyes taking on a reddish tint that sent shivers down Hermione's spine. "She attacked you? With a knife?" he asked, his unnervingly soft voice sounding accusing to Hermione's ears.
"Would I have stabbed her without provocation?" she snapped, momentarily forgoing her fear. "I defended myself. She tried to kill me with a knife. After I took it away, she tried to strangle me with her bare hands."
"Then she deserves more than a knife to the chest. She deserves this," Tom sneered, his red-tinged eyes blazing as he vigorously waved his wand several times at the girl's corpse. Numerous smoking gashes appeared on the girl's body until it burst into flames. With another wave of his wand, Tom extinguished the fiery mess. The only thing left of the corpse was an ashy outline.
"What did you do? She didn't deserve that," Hermione said, rounding on Tom with equally blazing eyes.
"She attacked you, after I told everyone to treat you with respect. If you hadn't killed her so quickly, I would've shown her what she truly deserved."
"And I told you, I didn't kill her!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Someone Avadaed her. She was trying to tell me something, but then someone killed her before she was able to say more."
In one long stride, Tom was standing before her, his long fingers grasping the sides of her head to keep her immobile. Good thing her mental walls were always up and protecting the things she wanted to be kept hidden. Tom's invasion of her mind was swift and forceful, but not painful. He went straight for the memory he was looking for, disregarding her other walls completely. His power frightened Hermione because if Tom truly probed in earnest, she would not be able to keep him out. When he finally released her, Hermione slumped into Tom's arms in utter exhaustion.
"We need to train that beautiful brain of yours, my dear. I would've uncovered all your secrets in a heartbeat if I wanted to," Tom said with a sneer.
"Did you―"
"You probably didn't know this, being young and so unblemished by darkness, but the Avada always leaves a minute signature of the caster. Visible only to those who know what to look for. So, yes, my love, I found what I was looking for and she will surely suffer the consequences of her actions. At your hands."
"W-what? I-I can't. I won't! You can't make me do it!" Hermione said, pushing Tom away. She stumbled a bit, but Voldemort grabbed her arms and pulled her flush to his chest.
"You are going to be my wife, Hermione. With it comes certain responsibilities. It's best you start practicing, my dear. Must I remind you of your place every time? You don't want me thinking you're not worthy to be Lady Voldemort, are you? Because if that's the case, I might just as well Imperius you to do my every bidding, or use your magic, and then throw you to the wolves when I'm done."
The message was clear. She was only alive through Voldemort's so-called benevolence. And there was only one way she was getting out of here alive.
She needed to outsmart him.
She needed to be ruthless like him.
If only she knew how.
