What makes a wrong?
What makes a right?
What determines a wrong from a right?
Who determines good from evil?
Who decides who is evil?
Is there truly good when everyone is truly evil?
"Draco, love," A woman purred from Hermione's right. Her vision was obscured, but why? She had no clue. She knew her destination; Malfoy Manor, yet they still cast a blinding spell. They made sure she would not be able to decipher any turns, left or right, how long they went along a path, nothing. Simply levitating her meaninglessly down what she had come to realize was hallway to hallway, now and then hearing the creak of a floorboard underneath his footsteps.
"Viceroy Supreme to you," he could be heard harshly barking out to her. "And for once in your life take orders. You were directed to remain in the entrance hall until I arrived to retrieve you."
She heard a faint pouting noise from the woman and light jostling of footsteps.
"Oh, please! I am your equal, your partner-"
A flinch came from Hermione as she heard the thud of the woman against the wall, she heard a muffled scream before hearing the ever chilling words from the Viceroy Supreme.
"You are not my equal."
Hermione could feel the anger radiating from the man, hear the seething in his voice and she could only imagine what he looked like. Could this be a lovers quarrel? She couldn't blame the girl for wanting more insight on the woman who would be standing next to her lover- no matter how fake the stand would be.
"How could you say that? Half a year ago you were promising me a happy marriage, whispered sweet words of where our wedding would be, how many children we would have, what their names would be. No one can be that good of an actor," A quiver could be heard in her voice, the woman was on the verge of crying and Hermione couldn't blame her.
A yelp of pain and the stumbling of steps was heard next, the woman cried out for him again but the voice was becoming faint.
He left her.
"This will be your room," He mumbled, finally giving her back her sight and setting her roughly down on the ground. "You are allowed out of your quarters as long as you remain unseen and unheard. No one wants to see a feral mudblood running about their mansion."
"Yet you're marrying it." Hermione spat out, glaring towards the Malfoy.
This was her first true look at him without chaos ensuing around them. He was gaunter than she remembered, yet still carried a dignified air to him, a haughtiness only a Malfoy could sport. She noted he was surprisingly muscular even with a suit on, his tailor must have done some impressive work to make him look as such. The appearance would seem threatening, but it wasn't his figure that intimidated people, no. It was his eyes. As he gazed down at her from the door it almost felt as though an unspoken threat was communicated towards her.
"It is."
His voice was but a murmur, it was as if he was doing his best to remain quiet as he stalked his prey. It caused a shiver to run down her, but the determination and courage were louder than her fear.
"Has anyone ever told you it's rather rude to look into others' minds without their permission?"
The next thing she knew her face was on the ground, a stinging sensation began to radiate across her cheek and her head began to throb. She didn't dare to look up as he towered over her body as if daring her to do it again.
"Mudbloods just never learn their place, do they?" He hissed, kicking her side as he walked out.
She remained in her coward position, she didn't want to satisfy him, didn't want to give him another reason. In the situation she was in she knew that she must play her part, she couldn't risk becoming hurt or ill this soon. There was no telling how long they would keep her locked away and she needed her energy to explore the extent the mansion would let her travel. With the Malfoy's reputation, there was no doubt that there were multitudes of secret passageways, most likely for the elves to get around unseen, and there had to of been something that could aid her. Something to help her escape? Help her protect herself? At the moment, she did not know.
The room around her currently held nothing that could help her in any way. It was surprisingly nice, a queen size nicely made bed was centered on one wall across from a fireplace, giant drapes lined the windows and to her dismay, there was a balcony. She tried the doors but the mansion was charmed not to let her out, her hand quickly feeling an uncomfortable sting as she touched the handle. While this didn't surprise her, in fact; she expected it, she still felt the pit of disappointment beginning to bubble up in her abdomen.
She further explored her room, finding a multitude of items all ranging from a toothbrush and hairbrush to papers and pencils. They most likely expected her to maintain a level of hygiene, she had no doubt this would soon include a wardrobe as Malfoy brides were notorious for their elegant wear. As for the variety of items to keep her entertained she had wondered if she would also be expected to fulfill the duties of a Malfoy bride. She knew of some of the wealthy pureblood practices and expectations, she knew that a bride would be expected to hold and host events, to entertain people, to show off a variety of skills and expectations. The expectations were no doubt going to be more rigid for a Malfoy bride, perhaps she would be forced into retched lessons and held to the same horrific standard.
She softly laughed at the thought.
"Held to the standard but still a mudblood." She murmured to herself.
It's all a charade, an attempt to make her person appear even worse to the Order, to her friends. Would they believe it? Would they fall for the trap? Or would they realize that she was nothing more than a puppet? Realize that Hermione Granger, the girl who fought for elves and the greater good would never align herself with the likes of a Malfoy and Voldemort.
She thought back on the countless fights she had with her friends. The way they all stood in shock as she introduced the idea of using darker spells, the way they all argued and yelled at her, the way none of them seemed to understand why she thought the way she did. She still felt the judgmental stares of Ron and Harry as she hesitantly told them of Rodolphus's fate, the way she used an unforgivable.
"No," She spoke aloud to no one. "No one will come for me."
Time felt like it was moving slower than usual.
Hermione sat in a chair she maneuvered from a desk to sit in front of the window-paned doors to the balcony, taking in the sunset like she used to. She had spent her day look for ways to escape but found no possible exits from her room and no items that could happily end her life. She wasn't ready to leave the confinements of her room, too scared to possibly run into someone. Beyond her room remained unknown to her, but she concluded that possibly be a good thing. From what she observed the night of the attack; Narcissa Malfoy was insane. What's worse is the level of her insanity, Bellatrix applauded her which indicated that the once regal and refined lady of the manor was no longer with them. She could only guess the severity of the situation if she ran into the woman, that is, if she even remained in the manor. Then there was the matter of Malfoy's apparent fiance who is no doubt a pureblood and most likely upset with the predicament she is in. Would she blame Hermione? Would she come after her? Kill her and reclaim her spot as a future Malfoy bride? If Hermione could she would just give it to her, happily surrender the position to the witch.
"But it's not possible," She whispered to the sunset, her hands tracing the rays that peaked out from the clouds.
"Not possible?" An unknown female voice questioned from behind her.
Startled, Hermione jumped up from her chair and looked for something to protect her. She felt the blood draining from her face as the entire area remained weapon-free, not even something that could become a make-shift weapon was in sight. Her mind panicked and spun around, her thoughts all becoming jumbled, trying to think of ways to protect her from the woman. Her eyes widened as she viewed the object in front of her, the only one which had the potential to become a deadly weapon. She picked up the chair and slammed it to the ground wanting to break off the legs, hopefully, one of the bits would be sharp enough to pierce the woman if need be.
A bounce.
The chair hadn't even cracked from the force and Hermione was using all that was left of her strength. She tried again with no luck, the legs refusing to break off even as she tried to kick them free.
"Oh, your kind are always so dull. Haven't figured it out yet? Are you not supposed to be the brightest witch of our age?" The girl rang out in laughter.
There was the label again: 'brightest witch of our age'. She was so tired of being expected to be the smartest in the room, the smartest in any situation, the expectation to be able to magically get herself out of any situation. She was smart, that much she proudly claimed. Yet what people failed to realize was that life was not a test and the odds were not always in her favor.
"The items here are charmed," the woman whispered as if she finally let Hermione into the secret. "Thought that much you would have figured out the moment you arrived." She murmured unimpressed, "tell me again how you somehow convinced the Dark Lord and Draco how you are such a valuable asset? All I see is a waste of air."
"What do you want? Do you want me dead? Want your title of 'Lady of the Manor' back? I don't want it! Take it!" Hermione cried out to the young woman, she assumed this was Malfoy's fiance wanting to seek revenge against Hermione.
The woman forced out a laugh, "Heavens no! Go against two of the most powerful wizards of this age? I think not. No, no, I just want to know how you did it."
"Did what?" Hermione questioned confused, she was a prisoner, she didn't do anything.
"Merlin! Are they sure you are actually Hermione Granger? I'm talking about getting on Draco and the Dark Lords' good side, I mean you are about to become the face of this war. You are going to marry the Viceroy Supreme, you are taking my position as a Malfoy wife." She hissed out, anger becoming more and more apparent in her tone. "They don't even fully trust you, locked you up in a room, won't even let you in the sight of others, yet you are to be a wife! A purebloods wife, a Malfoy wife! What pretty little words did you use to infiltrate his mind!"
Hermione stared motionless towards her, the woman's words rattling around in her mind. Did she believe Hermione actually wanted to be here? Did she believe that this was all her idea?
"The items won't even break, I can't even leave this side of the mansion, how could this be my idea? Why would I betray my friends, the only form of family I have left? Why would I want to join such a monstrous side and promote individuals like me to die? How could I convince the two most dangerous men alive that I am valuable?" Hermione cried out, the confidence in her voice long gone and replaced with a sense of sorrow.
The girl sneered at her, "Lovely performance. Of course, the two smartest men alive would not let a mudblood completely free, what kind of barbarous act would that be? Until now you were an enemy, who knows what your true intentions are! Draco stated you alerted them to the location! A location that would have been previously never found unless someone from the inside informed them, that you no longer saw the point of remaining with those who won't even listen to you. He told me that you even proposed to use dark magic; curses and unforgivables alike. He showed me your memories, showed me how you killed poor Bella's husband, how you wanted to use dark magic from that point on. Honestly, with how your friends treated you I don't blame you for doing what you did. But I am not completely convinced that Hermione Granger, a member of the Golden Trio, the girl who advocated for equal rights for those beneath us! No, I am not completely convinced of what your intentions are." The woman laughed. "But if you truly have become reformed, I hope they keep you locked up. Use you only for their gain. I hope you were stupid enough to honestly believe you could become a true Malfoy bride, to think you would be anyone equal in this world."
A pop came from the other side of the room, both of them breaking eye contact to see who it was. A house elf had appeared, looking unimpressed and unbothered. The elf eyed the situation, looking between the two before finally addressing the woman.
"Miss Astoria, Master Malfoy wishes to see you."
Hermione looked towards the woman in recognition, Astoria Greengrass. She remembered hearing about the Greengrass sisters, that their beauty was unparalleled and that was certainly true. The woman in front of her was stunning and would no doubt fulfill the role as a Malfoy bride much better than Hermione. Perhaps one reason Hermione remained untouched was due to the assumption that she would become the true Lady Malfoy once this was over, once the war was finally over. The assumption was not an unreasonable one, it was entirely possible that this would be the plan and Malfoy needs his fiance to play her role well by not informing her of the true nature of her stay.
"Apologies Miss, Master told us no one is to enter the room, said that Miss was resting." The elf claimed as Astoria palely left the room.
Hermione blinked towards the elf, dismay finally registering her facial features as she realized that the members in the household must be informed of her as being a guest that is to be watched.
"May I get the Miss supper?"
She shook her head absently, she would starve herself before she willingly submitted to her situation.
With that, Hermione curled up in front of the balcony doors, her eyes heavily closing against her will as she counted the stars in the sky.
She awoke the next day to arms grabbing her up, dragging her along to the bathroom, and bathing the grime from the last few days' events off her. They muttered to one another about her scars, the state of her skin, how unruly her hair was, and what they might need to do to tame it. They complimented her facial features, commented on how her eyebrows needed almost no work done and how for the most part her skin was entirely clear and blemish-free. Hermione rolled her eyes at the compliments, she knew that her face was not perfect but they must be grasping at something to simply paint her in some kind of positive light. She didn't bother with resisting, these women most likely had no clue about her situation and if they did they were too nice to her for her to accidentally have something bad happen to them. She obediently let them scrub her arms, protested slightly to being waxed to the point of becoming hairless, and cried as they began to dress her. The woman smiled towards one another, probably assuming that their hard work paid off as Hermione sobbed in joy of her stunning appearance. But she wasn't crying in joy, she felt helpless, like a doll. They tamed their hair, put minimal make-up on her, dressed her in elegant clothes, they were dressing her as the fiance of Draco Malfoy, Viceroy Supreme would dress.
A pop came from across the room and the same elf from last night appeared. The women quickly finished up Hermione, providing her shoes and aiding spells to help prevent any blisters because, after all, 'You can't have a future Malfoy bride suffering from blisters!' the women kept giggling and using this line for everything. They dabbed at her face as she continued to cry and they consoled her, half praising themselves for all their hard work and half praising Hermione for her beauty.
"Miss please follow me! Master said you can't apparate, no-"
"Of course not!" One of the women shrieked, "She can't ruin her hair!"
Hermione felt sick. She was imprisoned and no one knew. She was held captive, most likely until her death. No one would believe her even if she tried to tell them the truth, who would believe her over the Viceroy Supreme? Over Voldemort? No one.
The house elf motioned her to follow, clearly annoyed with her apprehensiveness to go along. The woman pushed her out the door giggling about how she shouldn't be so nervous and that she must be truly loved if the Viceroy Supreme ordered for her to be draped in such luxuries. Once they were out of sight and they all went their separate ways, the house elf mumbled apologies and stated that Hermione was no longer allowed to see or feel. She was left in darkness, not even allowed to walk on her own as the elf began to levitate her. She wasn't allowed to know where she was being kept in the mansion and she didn't know if that was for her safety or others.
"Master Malfoy, the Lady has arrived." The elf announced, gently easing her back to the ground and allowing her back her sight and touch.
She stood in horror as she realized they were at the entrance of the Malfoy Manor, Malfoy dressed in regal uniform attire as he took her in. From an outside perspective, they would look nothing more than an elegant couple.
They did up her hair to use her curls to the best of their advantage, an elegant yet messy-like bun taking its place from the usual bush-like mess it was. They highlighted the features of her facial structure and made sure to make her look as natural yet graceful as possible. She had noticed in her room that they masked the sleep deprivation that lined her features for years, making her appear as healthy as ever. Her dress matched his uniform, a combination of black, silvers, and greys. It clung tightly to her and highlighted her sickening skinniness that appeared throughout the war, the order struggled to maintain any kind of food supply and it showed in her figure.
No doubt, everyone would truly believe she traded fighting against the dark side to simply joining it for the luxuries it would give her. She would be given riches and a title, an appearance of being treated as if she was a pureblood. A charm was set upon her to hide any bruises and scars, no one would ever know that she was being held against her will, a prisoner dressed like a princess.
The Viceroy Supreme boredly scanned her head to toe, nothing appearing along his features as he briefly fixed his uniform. He took a step towards her and Hermione took a step back. She was scared, it was obvious she was about to take part in her first ceremony. This would be her debut into the society, the way their plan would begin to take place. She had to warn everyone, but she knew she couldn't. A thought raced across her mind and the man in front of her paled and then became enraged. He roughly grabbed ahold of her arm and yanked her towards him.
"I will imperio you before you decide a suicide mission." He hissed, his breath tickling her face as he gripped her tighter.
She fought against him, trying to free her arm as it began to sting under his tightening grip. Being dead would be better than having all of her friends believe she betrayed them, it would be better than possibly destroying the last shreds of hope the order still had. She finally understood Ron, she finally understood his pointless speeches. Perhaps he was smarter than her on occasions, he knew that without hope everything would be pointless, everything would fall apart.
"You will not talk, you will not look at anyone, you will not move. This is far above you and me Granger, you will play your part and you will do it well." He seethed.
"And if I don't," She finally spoke in a tremble, she didn't want to cooperate. She didn't want to be the downfall of the order, she didn't want to be the pawn that could possibly end the war.
"The Order is dead."
Her thoughts flashed to Ron, there was no way he would let the order just end, he was the heart and the hope. She might be taking part in the possible downfall, but he would never give up.
"Ronald Weasley is dead."