Hermione's terrified squeak was as good as a confession.
She knew it as soon as it came out, her hollow words doing nothing to appease Greyback.
"Hermione Granger...known to be travelling with Harry Potter," Greyback repeated quietly, a wicked smile pulling across his face, barbaric eyes flitting between the two of them. A stillness had settled across the scene, suffocating the thick forest air. She struggled vainly against the rope around her wrists, the rough fibers digging into her skin. Greyback took a step forward, crouching down to eye level with Harry.
"Well, this changes things, doesn't it?" whispered Greyback. He peered at his face, carefully cataloging the differences between Harry's face, misshapen and swollen from her stinging jinx, and the photo of Undesirable No 1 glaring up at them from the Daily Prophet. Trembling, she watched as he brushed his fingers against Harry's forehead, sweeping the fringe aside to reveal a lightning bolt scar.
"And what's this?" taunted Greyback quietly. He pressed a long finger to his forehead, twisting his finger across the taut scar.
"Don't touch it!" Harry yelled, and she flinched as his shoulder knocked into hers. Greyback let out a bark of laughter.
"You're not in a place to be asking things of me right now, boy," he said, straightening up. "I thought he wore glasses?" He asked, directing his question to the Snatchers.
Vaguely, Hermione watched as one of the Snatchers scrambled forward with Harry's glasses, shoving them back onto his face. Her eyes flitted across the scene, searching, hoping for anything that could get them out of the situation.
Why did Harry have to say his name? Ron had said it again and again, that there was a taboo, that the Snatchers could find anyone who dared to say Voldemort's name. Had it been any other scenario, she would have admired the ingenuity - it was a clever tactic, targeting a word only the Order were known to use. She had hoped her stinging jinx, which had swelled Harry's face until his eyes were almost screwed shut, would buy them some time, but it hadn't been enough. Of course they would broadcast who Harry was friends with, her picture strewn across the unforgiving pages of the Prophet, a reminder of who she was. She was too recognizable.
A cry went up through the Snatchers, Greyback's voice loudest of them all. "We did it! We've caught Potter!"
Their disjointed voices flew through the air, and Hermione once again ripped at the ropes around her, clawing at anything she could reach. Real panic settled in the pits of her stomach. This was it.
They were wandless, ready to be delivered into Voldemort's waiting palm. If only she still had her wand! She could see it, clutched in the grip of a Snatcher, too far to reach. Desperately, she tried to summon it to her, muttering the summoning spell under her breath. Tears were threatening to stream down her face, but she schooled herself. Now was not the time to lose her senses. She fixed her eyes determinedly on her wand, willing her magic to cooperate. She had tried wandless magic before, albeit without much success, but if there was ever a time for it, it was now. She felt, rather than saw, Harry turn his head in the direction of her eyes, knowing dawning comprehension would be visible in his eyes. Breathlessly, she breathed the incantation over and over, willing the wand to her. She watched, slowly, eyes widening as her wand began to wiggle. It was the slightest movement, unprompted by the Snatcher holding it, yet it was enough. Slowly, she watched it rotate, slowly…
Wham! She was struck across the mouth, her head falling down to her shoulder. She could taste the metallic tang of blood quickly pooling around her teeth. The Snatcher who had hit her leered down at her, hot breath uncomfortably close to her ear.
"Don't you even think about it," he whispered, trailing his hand over her disheveled curls. She slammed her eyes closed, breathing heavily to avoid the crawling sensation on her skin, but he drew back quickly, distracted by Greyback.
"Will you summon 'im 'ere?" asked Scabior, suddenly sounding intimidated by the prospect of meeting Voldemort.
"No. They say he's using Malfoy's place as a base. We'll take the lot of them there." Greyback said. Hermione thought she could guess why Greyback wasn't summoning Voldemort directly to them. Only the most dedicated of his followers were branded with Darks Marks, and Greyback was not one of them. Despite his service, Greyback would never be granted this honor, too impure to ever dream of breaching Voldemort's inner circle. He might be allowed to darn Death Eater robes on occasion, but his status as a werewolf barred him from ever being anything more than dispensable to Voldemort.
"And you completely sure it's 'im, Greyback?" pressed Scabior. "Cause if it ain't, there'll be a price to pay."
Greyback roared. "That's enough! Who's in charge here? We're taking them to the Malfoy's, and if you all are too gutless to come with, more for me!" There was a scrambling as the Snatchers rushed to his side, unwilling to take the chance of losing out on their bounty.
Hermione's breathing was coming out fast and terrified as she was forced to her feet. If Lucius Malfoy was home, they'd be recognized immediately. Even Narcissa might be able to identify them, having seen them all at the Quidditch World Cup. She hoped their time on the run had changed them enough to throw doubt onto their identities, all of them considerably gaunter than they once had been.
She was shoved into a tight circle, a Snatcher grabbing hold of her already raw wrist. She winced before lurching forward, the tell-tale sign of apparition. Her body contorted painfully, squeezed against Harry and Ron, scenes flashing by as they travelled as if through a black hole. She stumbled again, this time onto a small country lane.
In front of them stood an iron-wrought gate guarding an imposing manor looming over them from its hill. A Snatcher strode forward, hand moving to push the gate open, before falling back, face contorting in pain. The gate was shifting, the iron melting into an abstract of shapes that quickly warped itself into a disconcerted face.
"State your purpose," it bellowed in its clanging, echoing voice.
Triumphantly, Greyback stepped forward. "We've captured Harry Potter!" The gate sprang open immediately, the face already fading back into bars. They were ushered down the drive, towering hedges on either side of them that seemed to gloat, proud to have yet another set of prisoners led through their walls.
She shivered. It was the epitome of opulence, yet a certain darkness shrouded the grounds, as if everything was on the brink of death. Even the manor seemed to be creaking under the weight of dark magic, reminiscent of something out of the ghost stories of her childhood. She saw a ghostly white shape above her and blinked as an albino peacock came into view.
They had reached the end of the drive now, and Greyback staggered forward to knock on the door. Besides her, Harry's breath was coming in short spurts, and Ron had gone deathly pale. The door opened, light temporarily blinding Hermione as it spilled out of the manor.
"What is this?" came the cold voice of Narcissa Malfoy.
"We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" rasped Greyback.
Narcissa Malfoy regarded him coolly.
"And who are you?" she sniffed.
"You know me!" He cried, indignantly. "Fenrir Greyback, we've captured Harry Potter!" At this, Narcissa froze, her dark eyebrows drawn together. Greyback stepped aside, and Scabior pushed to the front, dragging Harry by the shoulder.
"It's 'im! I swear it! 'E's a bit swollen, but 'e's got the scar, plain as day. And 'ere's the Mudblood 'e's always with." At this, Scabior grabbed hold of Hermione, steering her into the light.
Narcissa looked between the two of them, and with a turn of her head, she beckoned them in.
"Very well. Bring them in." She opened the door wider, and the group made their way up the stairs and into a hallway full of portraits.
"Follow me," said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. "My son Draco is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know." Hermione felt her stomach drop to the ground - it was already Easter. Draco Malfoy, who had gone to school with them for years, would have no trouble at all recognizing them.
Narcissa led them into a grand room, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. More portraits lined the walls, and at the end of the room, two figures were rising from their seats in front of the ornate fireplace.
Draco was the first to turn around, eyes widening as they fell first onto Hermione's, then Harry's, before locking back onto her face, but it was Lucius who spoke.
"Well, what do we have here?" His familiar drawl pierced the room, leaving Hermione truly frightened. There was no way out - their wands were gone and they were at the complete mercy of the Malfoys. Voldemort would be summoned any minute.
"They say they've got Potter," came Narcissa's response. "Draco, come here." Draco took a step forward, his blond hair falling over his pointed face. He was thin, unnaturally so, and his normally polished appearance seemed fake, as if there was no heart in it. Hermione saw Harry hang his head beside her, refusing to look up as he walked to his mother's side, dreading the worst.
"Well, Draco, is it him?" The blond tilted his head, his expression paler than usual as he scrutinized Harry.
"What's wrong with his face?" he asked. Narcissa looked expectantly at Greyback, who drew back before answering.
"He was like that when we caught him," he said. Harry did, indeed, look different. His face, which was still pink and swollen from her jinx, glowed brightly under the light of the chandelier, framed by the shoulder-length hair Harry had grown out while on the run. He looked older, skinnier. If Hermione hadn't known it was him, she'd have easily walked by him on a crowded street.
Malfoy seemed to feel the same way. He was silent, eyes fixed on Harry's face. Finally, he spoke.
"I- I can't be sure," he said, voice sounding small.
"Look at him, Draco!" Interjected Lucius. "This could be our chance to hand him over to the Dark Lord. Everything would be forgiven!"
"Our chance? It would be our reward, not yours, Mr. Malfoy," growled Greyback. Lucius waved him off.
"Yes, yes, it's all yours," he said. "Now, Draco, come on." Greyback settled back, satisfied.
Malfoy avoided looking at Harry, as if scared of what he saw.
"Come on, Draco! Look carefully," urged Lucius. Malfoy let his gaze fall on Harry, and Hermione could see the almost imperceptible shake of his hand.
"I don't know," he said. Hermione narrowed her eyes. To the Death Eaters, who didn't see enough of Harry to be able to identify them, the hesitation was to be expected, but she knew Draco recognized them. Her stinging jinx wasn't enough to hide Harry's face from someone who had grown up with him - he wasn't identifying them.
"Lucius, we have to be sure it is them before summoning the Dark Lord. Remember what happened to the others?" Narcissa said. Lucius swung his arm in the air, exasperated.
"The girl, then! Is it the Mudblood Potter always favored?" He asked. Draco turned to face her, her eyes locking onto his grey ones. There was fear written on his face, and as she looked at him, she knew that he had never had any doubt about who they were. She stared at him defiantly, the smallest glimmer of hope fluttering into being.
Narcissa gasped sharply. "Yes, Draco, it's her! The one who was in Madam Malkin's! It's Granger!"
Draco shook his head.
"I'm not sure," he said. Hermione heard Ron intake a sharp breath of air. She was quite obviously herself - Malfoy was wavering.
"Think, Draco! This is our chance to fix everything!" Shouted Lucius.
"I… maybe, but I don't think it is," said Draco. Hermione stilled. There was something determined in Draco's countenance now, his uncertainty washed away.
"It's not Granger?"
"No, I don't think so," he said quietly.
"Then this, it's the blood traitor Weasley! What's his name again?" Lucius roared, swiveling around to face Ron. There was a crazed look in his eye as he desperately grasped for a connection.
"Arthur Weasley's son, yes! The resemblance is there!" He wheeled around to face Draco, an expectant look on his face.
"Well?" he prompted.
"I hardly saw Weasley. I wouldn't know."
Hermione's jaw almost dropped. Only the direness of the situation stopped her, knowing she'd give them away if she let herself react. Malfoy was blatantly lying, protecting them from being identified. Harry had told them about Malfoy's hesitance to kill Dumbledore, how it seemed as if he was going to take his offer of protection moments before the Death Eaters burst through the door, but to lie to his own parents, knowing he had nothing to gain?
Lucius took a deep breath. "Well, if you're not sure, perhaps we'll put them in the cellar for now. See how they look in a few hours."
"In a few hours?" Exclaimed Greyback. "No! I want the reward now! 200,000 galleons for delivering Potter!"
"You fool!" said Lucius. "Do you really want to risk this not being the boy, and face the Dark Lord's anger?"
The drawing room door opened behind them, a woman's voice floating into the room.
"Oh my, what do we have here? What's happening, Cissy?" Bellatrix Lestrange stepped into the room, a lazy smile on her face. She walked slowly around the prisoners, stopping suddenly as she came to Hermione. Her face drained of color.
"What's this? It's the Mudblood! Grander, isn't it?"
"Granger, yes, yes, it's her! And look, Potter too!" cried Lucius.
"At last! We must summon the Dark Lord at once!" She shrieked, ripped the sleeve of her robe up to reveal the Dark Mark tattooed on her forearm.
"Stop!" yelled Lucius, grabbing Bellatrix around the wrist. "It's my house, only I shall summon the Dark Lord. Only I have that power."
"Power? You have no power left, Lucius! You lost that when you lost your wand! Now get off me!"
"You did not capture Potter, it had nothing to do with you!" He retorted, hand still wrapped around her wrist.
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Malfoy," interjected Greyback. "But it's us who caught Potter, and us who will be collecting the gold-"
"Gold?" shrieked Bellatrix. "This is so much more than gold! Take it, take it all. What use is gold to me?"
She stopped struggling suddenly, dark eyes fixed onto something behind Hermione. She followed her gaze, now locked onto the group of Snatchers. Victorious, Lucius began to move towards his own Dark Mark, moments away from pressing down upon it when Bellatrix yelled.
"STOP! If you summon the Dark Lord now, we shall all die!"
He froze, finger perfectly poised to summon his master.
"What are you talking about, Bella?" He snarled. She ignored him, instead striding towards one of the Snatchers.
"You! Give me that sword!" He was still holding the Sword of Gryfinndor, having seized it from their tent when they were captured. Its rubies glinted in the light of the chandelier, creating a patterning of light on the floor. The Snatcher gulped, but shook his head at Bellatrix.
"It's not yours, missus, I found it."
There was a flash of red light and a thud, and Bellatrix walked back over to Lucius, now holding the sword. The Snatchers jumped up in anger, drawing their wands onto Bellatrix.
"That's ours! What are you playing at?" growled Scabior. She wasted no time with words, making quick work of the Snatchers. Although outnumbered, she stunned them all, leaving only Greyback untouched. She stood, chest heaving, sword in hand.
"Where," she began, "did you find this?" turning a sickly smile onto Greyback, now wandless and petrified in front of her.
"Who do you think you are, woman? You can't just-"
"I said, where did you find this?" she shrieked. "Snape sent it to my vault at Gringotts!"
"Picked it up from Potter, we did," he said, eyes darting towards Harry. "Now release me!" Bellatrix waved her wand, releasing Greyback from the spell. She wheeled around to look at Harry, before beginning to pace back and forth.
"If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed, that is for the Dark Lord only," she muttered. "But I must know how they got this sword."
She turned to face Narcissa. "Cissy, you cannot imagine how dire the situation is. You must put the prisoners in the cellar while I think of what to do."
"This is my house! You don't make orders in my house!" protested Lucius.
"Be quiet!" she yelled. She was red in the face, hair whipping madly around her face as she spoke. "Do as I say! We're all at risk of death."
Narcissa hesitated, before turning to Greyback and ordering him to place them in the cellar. They stumbled to their feet, letting Greyback lead them out of the room. She shot a quick look at Harry, who looked ready to attack Bellatrix before moving towards the door. She was just about to step over the threshold when a voice rang out, piercing her heart.
"Wait," called Bellatrix. "Leave me the Mudblood."