Chapter 21 - Fenrir Greyback
Lizzie struggled to no avail, at least seven men had cuffed their wrists with devices that restricted the use of magic, and she was thin boned compared to these men no matter how high her pain tolerance had climbed over the years. Ron struggled more successfully and landed a couple hard punches before he was restrained, only to take a hard beating from two of the men until he complied. She could hear Hermione's heartbeat in her labored breath as she pled with them not to kill him.
They were on their knees in a cargo container where it appeared they kept suspicious runners. Lizzie looked around to see two people curled up and bound in one corner and then a Goblin next to a familiar face who looked back in horror at Ron and Hermione and stared at Lizzie undoubtedly realizing, despite the disguise, who she must be. She shook her head at Dean Thomas to stay silent and he nodded with his eyes while the veins bulged in his neck.
Lizzie closed her eyes and thought hard about what got them here. Almost a month was spent traveling back from Albania. Time they dragged out on purpose and spent primarily on trains dressed as clergy meticulously planning a break in at Gringotts, debating which vault to hit first. Ron threw up his hands entirely at one point, calling it a suicide mission, and that if they chose the wrong vault, the war would be over, and they'd be swiftly executed.
They were detained first in France by Voldemort sympathizers who voiced their grievances of British witches and wizards coming over in droves and admitted they were thrilled about shutting down travel and the monetized opportunity to ship back renegades. They'd been rounding up brits and shipping them back on ships straight into the hands of snatchers and death eaters tasked with segregating the country's population.
They put up a fair fight, truth be told, but spent days behind bars in a French wizard prison before being rounded up with others on the next ship back over the straight. They were almost in the clear of getting rounded up at Dover Straight by hiding in the tightly confined areas of the cargo section. Lizzie remembered over-hearing that muggles were getting siphoned off to work camps, muggleborns were tagged with an arm tattoo and hauled off to Azkaban, and witches and wizards who sought to flee as refugees into France were given a red brand on the neck and taken to the Ministry to decide their fate.
Lizzie felt this was her fault. They attempted to slip under the docks and made a run for it on land, but she stopped to attempt to apparate them all to safety and soon realized there were enchantments in at least a mile radius to prevent them from doing so. They ultimately lost to half a dozen snatchers on their tail who wrestled them back into submission.
The man holding their wands came in and commanded a presence. He knelt down in front of Hermione and put his face much too close to her ear. "Well, hello," he smiled perversely. "What's your name, darling?" He asked. Her face was visibly shaking and Lizzie's skin crawled.
"P-penelope Clearwater," Hermione stuttered quietly. He smiled weakly, flipped through what looked to be a roster, and made a clicking noise with his tongue.
"She's accounted for, sweetheart, so who are you?" He asked her again. She didn't have an answer but the longer he stared he seemed to recognize her from somewhere. His patience after a moment snapped and he struck her in the face. "We'll get you talking soon enough," he hissed and turned to Ron.
"What about you?" He asked coldly.
"Kenneth Towler," Ron said. He flipped through the roster and shook his head.
"We'll see, lad," he said, unconvinced, and then looked at Lizzie with raised eyebrows and peaked interest.
"Well, really lucked out with this lot, didn't we boys?" He laughed. "Last one was a bunch of sausages and a goblin, now we have two I dont think I personally want to take back to the ministry, they both yours, son? Lucky bloke..." the others roared with laughter. He knelt down in front of her and ran a thumb across her mouth. "Name, darling," he whispered.
"Melanie Higgs," Lizzie breathed. He flipped through the roster and frowned at her. "You and your friend aren't going to like what happens next... well you might if you don't struggle..." he smirked, and Lizzie read his intentions plainly with her stomach in knots.
"Take the girls to the next one over," he ordered, snapping his fingers.
"No!" Lizzie shouted. They ignored her and seized her arms. "No! Leave her, don't you fucking touch her!" She yelled again in a panic. The man laughed and shushed her while he ran the palm of his hand over Lizzie's jaw line.
"We can deal with you first," he said with mock consideration and Lizzie felt big arms pull her up to her feet and out into the adjacent shipping container. Hermione screamed in protest, but it faded when the door shut, and the room went dark. A light ignited in the corner that dimly illuminated the grim area. She felt a hand wad up the back of her shirt and pull her to the edge of a table before dropping her back onto her knees. Her hair was pulled back into a manhandled tie and one of them held her throat with the corner of his elbow while another pulled off her top layer of clothes. Lizzie shook feeling immeasurably cold while goose pimples broke out on exposed skin. She struggled when they lifted her, but only received hard blows to her back and head in response. Her hands were fastened to the far edge of the table while her torso stretched the surface and bent at the hips at the edge. She struggled to look around with a bruising cheek pressed into the wooden surface and felt a hand run fingernails up her back as the door slammed shut behind the men who had wrangled her into this position.
"Tell you what, I'll take your friends straight to the Ministry, won't even touch a hair on that pretty little girlfriend of yours, but you'll stay here with us, what do you say?" He said in a mocking tone just inches from her face, his fingers felt like acid on her skin.
"Who are you?" He asked. "Tell us the truth and it'll be less unpleasant," he added evenly and pulled at the fabric still clinging to her clammy body. Lizzie's skin prickled as a hand moved up her inner thigh and between her legs.
"Name," he said simply. Lizzie bit down on her own jaw and resigned to accept the predicament. He sighed heavily and put a knife on the table, then what looked to be a pipe of sorts, and rounded the corner until he was crouched down inches from her face.
"It's not a hard choice darling. Tell me who you are, or this gets much worse for you, I could always have you watch your friend, so you know what's in store." Lizzie bit down on her tongue. He pulled out a rope from his pocket and pulled it across her mouth and around her head in a tight knot. It burned the corners of her mouth but gave her something other than her own mouth to bite on. "I don't like whining; don't say I didn't give you the opportunity to talk."
He sighed and picked up the knife. Lizzie writhed in the bind but went rigid when he ran the blade down the length of her back with just enough pressure to break skin. She felt the warm blood pool and trace her spine, and he rested the blade on the small curve above her tailbone. His hands ran down her waist and grabbed hard at her hips. He was rough in a way that sent her nervous system into shock. She felt the tip of a wand pressed into her shoulder blade and then the thousand hot knives of a cruciatus pierce her skin and burrow into her bones. She couldn't steal herself or turn off her mind while it was reeling on such high alert. She could taste the metallic undertone of blood from the rope cutting into her mouth and squirmed to no avail.
She felt him stroke her hair and he leaned in close. "Shame you were supposed enjoy that, it's only getting worse from here," he said and picked up the knife. She felt the cold blade on the inside of her thigh as the door opened and a man with a burly voice laughed. Lizzie recognized it. He placed large hands over her body and the hair brushed the nerve endings in her skin. Her heartbeat savagely. If they called Voldemort, it'd be over. He stopped and inhaled but it seemed cut short.
"Unbind her and get her on her knees," he barked. Lizzie looked up at Fenrir Greyback and he smirked wickedly as he crouched down and moved hair back from her forehead. He frowned at the burn and ran a finger over the rough skin. She knew he could make out the faint scar and checked her body for others. None were obvious enough but all he needed was suspicion.
"Search the others. Thoroughly. We're not taking them to the Ministry. I think this is Potter," he growled. The eyes of the man who'd assaulted her grew wide as saucers and he pushed her head back to examine for himself.
"I wouldn't touch her again," Greyback warned. "If it is, she belongs to Him. Get her dressed."
They dropped Lizzie into the area with others and sealed it. "Liz?" Ron whispered; his voice was trembling. She sobbed.
"It's over," she breathed, her mind deteriorating into a panic.
Blindfolds came off in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor and Lizzie felt the world close in. Her mind raced between fragmented thoughts about what to do if Voldemort was already here, but she would be able to tell, and thought they might bide time.
"That one is a Weasley, and this is the Granger girl, isn't it? They've both been expected to have been with Azalea this whole time but we're not certain this is her?" Bellatrix asked and stopped at Lizzie.
"I think the easiest explanation is she burned over scars, but the eyes aren't right, are they? Black hair..." she contemplated. She frowned curiously. "Draco," she said sharply.
"What do you think?" She asked. Draco got closer but Lizzie could read his apprehension immediately.
"The eyes, not hers," he said rather quietly and frowned because she could tell he knew.
"Didn't Yaxley say she disguised herself at the Ministry? Something they couldn't detect?" Bellatrix asked. "Someone should call him, we have to be sure... if we call the Dark Lord, and we're wrong, the price will be steep," she hissed apprehensively. Lizzie felt this uncertainty promising and willed herself to implant more in their heads despite not knowing if it was even working. Draco seemed especially unnerved.
"What did we find on them?" Bellatrix asked.
"Her bag had an extension charm. Several interesting things. There's a pouch we can't open..." Fenrir explained.
Bellatrix took it and started depleting contents. "What wand was she using?" She asked and took what was handed to her in response.
"Not Holly. This isn't Potter's wand," she said with exasperation and handed it to Draco. She then pulled out the sword and iced over in shock.
"Where did you get this?" She hissed. Her eyes pierced both Lizzie and Hermione in rage. Before Lizzie could say anything, she took a hard kick to the side of her head that landed her face down on the stone floor. Bellatrix took her by the hair and lifted her face up to look at her.
"We found it," Lizzie whispered. This time a hand came down for a blow and Lizzie's ears rang in pain.
"This sword is in my vault at Gringotts, you broke in," she hissed. Lizzie looked up at her and smirked involuntarily, jackpot, she thought.
"Yes, and that shockingly didn't make the news," she hissed back. Every nerve ending in Lizzie's body erupted in intense pain that didn't cease for what felt like an eternity.
"What else did you take?" Bellatrix growled close to Lizzie's face. Her question was answered should they manage to survive this predicament - though she was far from confident of that.
"Leave me with the other one. If that's Potter, we could torture her for hours to no avail," Bellatrix said. Lizzie was picked up by the arms and dragged along with Ron and Dean down to a familiar cellar. She screamed and writhed in protest, but it was a futile effort.
Hermione's screams echoed above them, and Lizzie shook with apprehension and swallowed down the urge to vomit. She clawed at the wrist restraints that forbade magic and Ron clicked the deluminator for light. Lizzie pulled from the inside of her jacket pocket anything she could find and cut her hand on the edge of the two-way mirror shard.
She remembered how Ron asked about it on the last train they boarded when he watched her pull out her collection of junk from the enchanted pouch.
"How do we get out of here? She'll torture her mad," Ron breathed. Lizzie could hear his heart from feet away, it made an earthquake ripple through his body.
Lizzie got up and walked toward the cellar door but collapsed on weak legs. Dean caught her fall and she sat with her back to wall, the soreness from the cut under her clothes combined with the screaming had sent her mind off track completely.
"Ron? Lizzie?" She heard a girl's voice say and looked up to see Luna curled up in a far corner. She was badly bruised, and Lizzie recognized the pain engraved into her face immediately. They'd hurt her.
"Luna," Lizzie breathed. Tears pooled in her eyes and Dean said something that sounded like marbles. She looked up to see an elderly man approach her cautiously and recognized Mr. Olivander despite him appearing astonishingly enfeebled and ill. Ron made his way over to Luna to check that she was alright. Lizzie's head spun and the screaming above felt like knife straight down her throat and through her heart.
Hurried footsteps could be heard down the narrow stairwell several minutes later as Draco appeared with his wand drawn and unlocked the cellar. Lizzie looked up at the familiar pointed face suspiciously. Ron rushed toward the door, but Draco shot his wand up threateningly. "You let her go," he growled. Draco ignored him and gestured two fingers for Lizzie to come with him without a word. Ron pushed Lizzie back and appeared to be trying to leave in her place, but Draco flashed him a mean look. "Not you, Weasley," he hissed reproachfully. Ron looked between them nervously as she left, and Lizzie discretely handed him the mirror.
The screaming had stopped, and Lizzie felt extremely apprehensive, by the fourth step she was imagining Hermione's lifeless body in the drawing room and swayed on her feet at the thought. Unbearable, the only thing she knew with absolute certainty was that she wouldn't survive that blow. She followed him up the rest of stairwell with a tremor she couldn't shake. "What did she do to her?" Lizzie growled, "if she's not alive I'm tearing all of you limb from fucking limb." Draco spun, they were halfway up the stairs and out of earshot. He pushed her against the wall and grabbed her chin.
"They're about to call him, Azalea," he hissed. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"No fooling you is there? Bravo, why didn't you give me away?" She sneered contemptuously. He slapped her and kept a hand at her throat.
"What do you expect me to do?" He hissed. He stared with fleeting eyes, and she could read that he was less than loyal, that he had long been questioning all of this. He leaned in to kiss her with brass confidence, but Lizzie turned her head. Draco groaned with contempt for her constant rejection.
"Where did they take her?" Lizzie said slowly. His eyes flicked up the stairs. Lizzie's eyes widened. "Who?" She growled reproachfully.
"Fenrir," he whispered. Lizzie shoved him hard. Her heart was beating fury through her entire body.
"You had the choice, Dumbledore gave you an out," she hissed. "You weak, pathetic..." she continued, but he seized her arm tight and dragged her up the steps, just not to the drawing room. He slipped down the hall unseen and up the main stairway to a bedroom. Lizzie stopped at this particular room.
He noticed her demeanor shift. "Not this," she whispered, memories of the same room intruding. She pulled back impulsively but he didn't slacken his grip. When Lizzie heard noise on the other side, she knew it was not intended for her this time. He let go and stepped aside an inch for her to push open the door. Hermione was pinned under Greyback's weight. He had her in a position that set Lizzie's blood on fire, and she yelled in a raw rage for him stop. She lunged before Draco could stop her, but he pried back her arm in time for her to avoid getting mauled in the face.
"Let go," she spat and writhed in his grip, but he was pulling her away more than offering her to the werewolf who was looking between Lizzie and a very weak, limp Hermione with intense consideration.
The door swung open, and Draco was shoved against the wall in the intrusion. They both lost balance and Lizzie took the opportunity to lunge but looked up and stopped to see Ron hoisting a long fireplace poker he'd pulled from beneath the bedroom's mantel and strike Greyback hard across the head. He struck again, swinging considerably harder with a wave of raw rage, and continued repeatedly until the burly beast of a man was nearly a bloody carcass on the floor. Lizzie stole a look back at Draco who stared in horror but did nothing to stop him, despite being the only one with the wand. Dean moved across the room to the bed to get Hermione, but when Lizzie got to her feet to help, she felt Draco's hand wrap tight around her arm and yank her close to her body possessively.
Footsteps were coming down the hall and Redolphus and Rebastian Lestrange entered wands drawn and pointed at the boys. With a quick flick of the wrist, Ron's bloody weapon was disarmed. He was out of breath and panting with rage and adrenaline. With Lizzie in tow, Draco hoisted Hermione up.
"Walk, Granger," he barked heartlessly. Dean and Ron each had a wand to their neck as they retreated down the stairwell into the main foyer.
Lizzie was feeling intensely satisfied by what Ron had done but still bubbled in rage as well as confusion over how they'd escaped the cellar.
"Well, the gang's all here," Bellatrix cackled when she saw them but raised her eyebrows curiously. "Who did you gut?" She asked Ron, covered in Greyback's blood.
"Fenrir," her husband said, and her eyes flashed at Ron with shock.
Lizzie smirked at Bellatrix's expression, and it caught her attention. She moved closer to her face. "Oh, you think that's funny?" She said, tracing Lizzie's cheekbone with a knife. Then her eyes flashed to Hermione who whimpered involuntarily. Draco pushed her toward his aunt and pulled Lizzie back in a firm grip when she reached forward to stop her.
"Well, he did a number on you. I'll happily kill you before you birth cubs if you'd like," Bellatrix offered with a cackle, her fingers gripped around Hermione's jaw before backhanding her to the ground. Ron shouted but Redolphus held him back. Bellatrix took her wand and slashed one, two, six times in a whip like motion across Hermione's back as she curled into something resembling a fetal position with the woman's high heel at her the back of her neck.
Lizzie writhed relentlessly until Draco's grip slacked just enough. Before anyone could stop her, she had the crazed and depraved witch by the throat, her knees pinning down either shoulder and struck her repeatedly in the face in quick procession until she was bloody.
Draco and McNair pulled her off and held her arms but kept her on her knees. Bellatrix stood, spit blood, and cackled.
"Now I know it's you," she said menacingly. "Is Yaxley here?" She asked with mock curiosity. "He'll know the scars if we strip her down, won't he? With Dolohov dead..." at this Lizzie felt both humiliated and optimistic. At least there was a good chance Yaxley was still under her curse.
Yaxley entered the drawing room and stopped at the sight of her. "Come in, Corbin," Bellatrix said, but Lizzie silently told him to stay where he was, and he did.
"Yaxley," Lucious said, but Lizzie willed him stay, fighting a smile with every bit of her own will.
Bellatrix nodded at McNair who grabbed at Lizzie's clothes and gestured for Draco to do the same. Before they could pry so much as a jumper off her shoulders, and to everyone's shock, Yaxley strode forward, ignoring Lizzie entirely, and struck Bellatrix hard in the face. The room fell silent. He disarmed her and her wand went flying across the drawing room. Commotion broke out when Ron and Dean took the opportunity to free themselves from the Lestrange brothers. Ron proceeded to throw a punch at McNair and retrieve most of their wands from his inner pocket, tossing one to Dean as Lizzie pried herself free of Draco and wrestled hers and his from his grip.
Lucious looked between Yaxley and Lizzie with understanding and shot a curse at Yaxley that made him crumple into a feeble mass. Ron moved to grab Hermione, but he took a blow with a curse to the chest, and Bellatrix seized Hermione with a knife that was already making blood pool at her throat.
"It's her, Draco, call him," Bellatrix ordered. He hesitated and stared at Lizzie. She cast a glance at Ron who looked at her, then at the chandelier overhead where Dobby was unscrewing the fastener to the high ceiling. It took Lizzie a moment to register that only an Elf could have gotten the boys out of the cellar to begin with. As it came crashing down, Bellatrix shoved Hermione into its direct line of impact, but Ron pulled her in time to clear it by mere inches. Lizzie looked over to see Lucious had summoned his master by the way the snake on his arm darkened, and she cast a curse at the snatcher still holding their things. Dobby scampered over to them in a hurry and they each held on, including Griphook, the goblin traveling with Dean, who waddled over anxiously in a last-ditch effort to escape. Lizzie had the sword in hand and her pouch with Hermione's bag gripped in another.
With a crack they were gone, but not before Lizzie watched Bellatrix throw a dagger aimed at Hermione. Lizzie pulled Hermione close in grip just far enough outside its target line and suddenly felt sea breeze on her face and wet sand beneath her fingers.
She whipped her head around and saw Olivander sitting further up the shore with Luna, Griphook wading his way to dry sand, Ron cradling Hermione in the water as she cried, and Dean falling back on his hands in shock. "Hermione?" Lizzie croaked. She crawled toward them and was relieved to see she had not taken the dagger. "You're going to be ok, I promise," she whispered. She let her features return to normal, and then she heard her name.
"Lizzie Potter," Dobby whimpered. He was trying to walk toward her when she saw he was clutching the dagger in his ribs.
"No!" Lizzie yelled and fumbled in the mucky sand until he fell into her arms. "Dittany, please," she gestured frantically but Hermione weakly shook her head that they didn't have any left. "Dobby, no... stay with me... we'll get you fixed," she pled with him and tried to stand but sunk back to her knees on legs she could hardly feel. Luna was making her way over and crouched across from her. She looked defeated. Lizzie didn't want to know what they'd done to her.
"Dobby, you're the... bravest... elf alive," she whispered close to his face with a croaked sob. He made a weak sound in response.
"Dobby will always be there for Lizzie Potter," Dobby said painfully and patted her hand fondly, she took it and kissed it. Her lips were trembling, and her body was shaking in grief. She rocked him close and muttered apologies until he went still in her arms. Luna closed his eyes with two fingers and kissed Lizzie on the side of the head. The waves were suddenly all she could hear. Her arms felt numb, and Luna took Dobby from her. "We need to bury him," she whispered as he was carried away. "We need to bury him," she said under her breath. Her chest felt tight and compressed. She stared out into the waves and couldn't hear anything but their call. This one truly broke her. She had the urge to walk into the ocean except her legs wouldn't move.
She looked up the shore at Hermione being carried to shelter and saw someone else staring back disbelievingly. Her face contorted in a fresh wave of tears as he approached in a hurry.
In moments she felt hands on her face trying to get her attention but still only heard the waves. She sobbed and pressed her face into the warmth of Charlie's shoulder, she clutched at him desperately when he pulled her close to his body. They stayed like that for what felt like a short eternity before she could make out any words he was saying.
"Are you hurt?" He asked. She nodded and he tried to get her to her feet.
"Help Hermione first..." she said weakly as they approached the cottage. Fleur was in the kitchen preparing supplies and potions and gasped at Lizzie.
"I've got her, help Hermione and Luna..." Charlie insisted and pulled Lizzie up the stairs and into a bathroom.
"Help them, I - don't..." she said as he sat her on the edge of the bathtub carefully and crouched down at eye level to examine a bruised and bleeding face.
"Charlie, I'm fine -" she said pulling her face away. He pulled her chin back with a frustrated glare.
"You're far from fine," he muttered with a lace of reproach. "Olivander said you were at the Manor," he said to break a stiff silence as he wet a cloth under the faucet to clean up her face. Lizzie nodded. "Where are you hurt?" He asked sympathetically. Lizzie looked back at a pair of incredibly sad eyes and started to cry. His chest sunk and he wrung the towel angrily.
His hands trembled as he pulled off her shirt. Some of the bruises on her chest and waist were almost black. The cut down her back looked angry. Marks from the cruciatus were climbing like vines up her abdomen from where Bellatrix used it. He carefully pulled off her pants to see the same marks climbing down her legs.
"I'm fine, please..." she whispered, feeling vulnerable. His hands were so gentle, but the touch was making her body tense and he could tell. He poured a solution on the cloth he was using and moved it over the worst of the marks carefully. She drank a second potion he handed her, and he rolled his sleeves up over muscular forearms to run a bath. Lizzie undid her bra and took down her knickers nervously as he poured something into the bath.
"Do you need to take anything for...did any of them..." he asked cautiously, noticing some blood in the knickers. Lizzie's eyes answered the question and he nodded, wiping his own with the back of his hand. "I'll make some..." he assured her.
"Hermione too...probably Luna she was there for months," she whispered and stifled a sob she could barely control. He nodded sadly and held out a hand to help her in the bath. Lizzie got up on weak legs and leaned into him. He wrapped both arms around her protectively, then kissed her gently until it became much more forward. She wanted to continue, and her hands said as much, but he stopped her.
"You're hurt, no," he said sharply breaking his face away from hers abruptly and pushing on her hips to get her in the water. Lizzie felt affronted and shoved him. He looked back, bewildered, and took her face in both his hands with a firm grip in response. "I didn't say you were glass. I said you were hurt," he said sternly with a plea in his tone.
"I'm fine," she hissed defensively, and he let go to iron his face with his hands in frustration. Lizzie reached for a towel to cover up with, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
"Damn it, Lizzie. You don't need to be this bloody stubborn. Get in, please. You're hurt, just let me help, have you looked in the mirror?" he pled. His eyes were swimming. Lizzie wanted to retort with a manic recap of what the last several months had been like, but looked down at a bruised body and couldn't, so she obliged reluctantly. The water felt nice, and she could feel the pain start to fade from certain places.
"I've always hated baths," she whispered. He got down on his knees level with the tub and kissed her temple. "I've missed you," she said sadly with her eyes closed. He grabbed her hand tight and wrapped his other palm around his mouth as his face contorted around a cry.
"Me too," he whispered.
