A Story of Pain

by Voice of Reason

Voldemorte took over the wizarding world, surprise surprise, and Hermione is forced to help rebuild his empire. Much drama and angst with Hermie, Draco, Ron, and Ginny.

4. Part IV

Part IV: All Hell Breaks Loose

Immediately after the conclusion of part III.

Draco turned back to his conversation with Terence Higgs. The other man had been going on about some new broomstick for Quidditch, telling Draco all about the little details of making broomsticks that bored everyone else to tears. Quidditch didn't interest Draco these days. He had never liked the sport to begin with and now that his rivals were taken care of, there was no need to play. But still, he tried to pretend to care for Terence's sake. It was hard, though, to talk about Quidditch when he really wanted to go find Hermione and do things to her that weren't quite appropriate in the ballroom, despite the abundance of sofas lining the shadowed walls.
The servant he had sent to find his slave was taking too long, but Draco mentally told himself to be patient. Hermione would turn up, apologetic as usual, and Draco would deal with her.
Terence was saying, "This new broom, even though it's still being tested, will begin production easily in two months."
"Who are the test flyers?" Trying to be interested, ask questions.

My Hermione. Mine mine mine. But where is she?
"Oh, just a few kids, sons of some officials looking for joy rides."
"And what happens if something unfortunate happens to one of them?"
"Nothing, at least to us. They signed a contract, fully accepting all dangers that might befall them."
Dangers, so many of them in life. Don't you agree, Hermione? Dangers that might hurt you soon if you don't show up.
"I see. So how are the tests going?"
"Quite well. It seems that there are some flight stability problems from increasing the speed."
"Really?"

"Yes. Perhaps your darling slave could take a look at the problem for us? It would save the expenses of hiring a special consultant and I trust her work enough to let her see the spell work."
Dare to presume, don't you Terence? Ask me to share my slave? Never. I'd kill you first. But you can borrow.
"We'll come over later this week."
"That's fine. And you'll stay for dinner?"
Dinner would be lovely, a night out, maybe go to "The Last Chance," tease her, play with her, break her, make her even more mine. Mine mine mine, and oh! There she is.
"Of course, my friend." Draco clapped the other man on the shoulder, then indicating Hermione, said, "It seems that my attention is needed elsewhere. Enjoy the evening!"
Hermione had entered the ballroom, looking around confused. She's trying to find me, Draco thought, feeling a rush of pride looking at her. Even though most of the witches present tonight were lovelier than his Hermione, she had a presence, an aura of power that these pretty, shapely figures lacked. And she wore that sleek collar that marked her as his. Well, almost mine. Mostly mine. Almost all mine. Draco smiled as he weaved his way through dancing couples to reach Hermione.
She looked pale, but he dismissed that due to the excitement of the evening. "Darling, I was looking for you. I though I told you not to wander off."
"I-there was a server who was most rude to me," said Hermione as Draco pulled her onto the dance floor. She moved unresisting, reaching up a white hand into his as they began to dance to the music. Draco curled an arm around her waist, feeling her slim curves under his fingers.
"And did you take care of that server?" he asked, breathing into her hair. Someone knotted it up most delicately, with tiny spirals of metal holding hair up on her scalp. The scent of her skin raced through his mind. He decided to have fun later tonight. Her hair in particular, he longed to pull out her curls slowly, tangling his fingers in this thick browness, so different from his own hair.
"Yes." Her voice grew soft, almost to a whisper, near his mouth. "I apologize for being away so long, it seemed like a good idea to inspect the rest of the servers present. Was I wrong?"
She was so thoughtful, trying so hard to do the right thing by him. It was marvelous, how much she had changed. How much I changed her. "That's fine, but I do wish you had told me where you went."
"You missed me?" she asked, Draco noting how her eyes became large. With fear? Of me? Of course. I can still frighten her with words. How delicious.
"I thought you'd gone off with Crabbe or Goyle," he teased into her ear, then swirled his tongue around her earlobe and neck, feeling how she stiffened. "What's wrong, my dear?"
"What are you doing?" she asked in a strangled voice. Probably thinks I'm going fuck her, right in the middle of the floor, what a naughty slave of mine.
"Whatever I want to, slave, because-?" he said, wrapping his arms around her possessively, enjoying her warmth pressed up against him.
"I'm yours." A whisper, head bowed meekly into his chest.
"Yes," he hissed. Then he dropped his hands from his death grip on Hermione's body and grabbing her hand, walked over to the nearest wall. Pushing her up against the cold stone, he kissed her neck roughly, tasting her sweet skin, smelling a new perfume on it that excited him.
"There are people watching," she gasped, trying to push him away halfheartedly.
He didn't care. There were plenty of other couples to watch, if one wanted to, hidden away in the shadows that clung to the walls, entertaining each other on low sofas blending in with the dark, doing all sorts of dirty things. Things he wanted to do but didn't have time. This party was too important politically for him to have fun with Hermione. But he needed to let her know that she displeased him by making him worry when he disappeared like that without telling him. "You shouldn't leave me like that again," he said, pushing her hands to her sides, holding them pinned there. Draco met her eyes. She definitely looked frightened now. "You know better than to anger me." A warning, for now. Depends on how she answers.
"I didn't-I'm sorry, it was only for a few minutes, please."
"Don't finish that statement," he said, closing her mouth with his, kissing her with enough force to leave bruises for the next day. Wrong answer, lovely Hermione, dear me, that's the wrong answer, I suppose I'll just have to punish you later, won't I? Pulling back, he enjoyed the sight of her reddened lips as he used one hand to pin hers between their bellies. "You should listen to me." Draco's other hand caught the back of her head and pulled it back, lifting her chin up and baring her neck. Lovely smooth neck, whiteness all the way into her dress, marred only by her collar. He studied the skin, wondering where the perfect spot was, then found it. A few inches above the collar, just off-center, visible to everyone. Baring his teeth, Draco leaned his mouth close to Hermione's neck, biting the skin, nibbling cruelly in the same spot, tasting how her skin changed and bruised, reveling in the metallic taste of her blood. She stiffened against him, her hands protesting weakly, a small whimper of pain, then he felt the weight of her body sag into his. She's given up, he thought triumphantly.
"I win," he said as he stepped back from her after a few more minutes of hurting her. She rubbed her wrists. The inflamed spot on her neck pleased him. Mine mine mine. All mine and everyone knows it. Including her. "I'll be rejoining the party. If you want to return to your rooms, feel free. Or in fact," he paused, getting an idea. "When you're tired of this, come and tell me, then go to my room. I've got a new bathtub that I think you'll like." He leered at her, bending his head to taste the tops of her breasts, then strode back into the crowd, commending himself on his choice of lingerie. Quite a nice fit. Maybe I'll dress her up more often.

Balancing an overfull tray of drinks, Ron moved through the fringes of the ballroom. The gin and tonic went to the elder witch wearing a low-cut dress that horrified Ron. A Firewhiskey to the bored-looking man. Sherry for the dignified gentleman Ron suspected was gay.
While he served drinks, he gazed around the room, trying to find Hermione. He supposed she'd run off to Malfoy. Draco? That amazed him. First, that Malfoy hadn't killed Hermione outright, seeing as he hated her just as much as him or Harry. Second, that apparently Malfoy had some sort of hold over Hermione. When she had heard the servant in the kitchen, Ron saw her face go white. Malfoy scares her, Ron thought, afraid to imagine why.
Then he spotted them, crushed together against the wall, half-hidden in the shadows. Ron's pulse sped up, but he tried to stay calm. Serve your drinks, he ordered himself. Don't do something stupid now or you'll just ruin everything. But he couldn't help looking with veiled horror as Malfoy bit Hermione's neck. She trembled under his grasp, then relaxed. Ron watched as the blond man moved away and tried to guess at his words to Hermione. Then he left, leaving Hermione to gather herself up shakily and sink into an unoccupied sofa by a door.
Swiftly making up his mind, Ron continued to collect empty glasses as he returned to the kitchen. A glance at the clock told him that there was a little more than thirty minutes before they had arranged to meet Hermione and begin their mission. Setting his tray down, Ron slipped out the side door into the hallway. He walked down the corridor, guessing at the correct door, and opened it to find himself beside Hermione.
"Hey," he called softly. "Can I join you?"
Her startled face turned up. "Ron? No, you really shouldn't, someone might see-"
"It's very dark over here," he pointed out. She shook her head, almost frantic. She must be frightened, he realized, saying, "Why don't you come talk to me out here then?" He saw her nod twice and get up. Holding the door open for her, Ron shut it after them then turned to find Hermione staring at the floor with teary eyes.
Hesitating, not wanting to upset Hermione, but filled with a burning need to know how much he needed to kill Malfoy, Ron said, "What did he do to you?"
Hermione looked up too quickly, saying in a high voice, "Nothing. Why?"
"That's not true, I saw you two." Ron could see some remains of her stubbornness asset itself in Hermione's face as she dabbed at her eyes. Grimly taking her hands, he said, "Let me see."
She met his eyes for a moment. Ron thought about her brown eyes and wondered what she'd seen to change into this woman who obeyed Draco Malfoy. Then she tilted her head back and led him hand to the angry red mark on her neck. "This is it. It doesn't hurt much, outside. It's more inside me that he hurts."
"Is this normal?" asked Ron, growing horrified at the thought of what he didn't know about Hermione.
"I'm used to it. I expected worse from the bastard, to tell the truth." Hermione turned away to curse into the empty air. Another shock for Ron to hear his old friend swear at Malfoy with language that would have made her teenage self blush red for a week.
"That's different from the Hermione I knew," said Ron, venturing closer to her.
He heard her bitter laugh. "I know. I keep thinking that I'll do something and you'll change your mind and hate me."
"Why does he hurt you?" Ron said, returning to his original thought.
"Why else? If someone didn't terrorize me, what do you think would keep me under control? This collar only deals out physical pain, but Draco's gotten inside my mind, which is more effective, don't you think?" The bitter voice Hermione was using made Ron wonder again about her past. He felt so sad that events turned out this way and upset that he was so powerless to change the past.
"I'm sorry this happened."
"It's not your fault. I'm just grateful you're even talking to me."
"What do you mean?"
Hermione shook her head, saying, "Don't you know? I thought you'd take one look at me and run the other way, or at least curse me for being a traitor. For being a dark witch. For being evil. You know Dean Thomas did that? Screamed at me until he died."
Ron sighed, feeling old. It hurt to hear about dead friends and it hurt to see Hermione, once so strong, now trying not to cry. "Here," he said, holding out his arms. "It's ok. Give me a hug until we have to meet up with everyone else." Hermione sniffled and reluctantly moved next to his chest. Ron hugged her tightly, hoping to give her some of the comfort she had been denied for four years.

"No, I disagree. That's not the right thought. What needs to be done is plain. We have to monopolize the market on Graphorn skins, then once we do that, we can control who can afford to do business with us. That way we can be sure-" Draco stopped talking to Ludo Bagman, Dolores Faretchy, and Seymour Tides, all witches and wizards with heavy ties to the wizarding trading market, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head slightly, seeing Hermione standing beside him. Pleased at seeing her appear at his side so prettily, he offered her his arm, which she took immediately. Draco asked her, "We were just talking about the problem of the Graphorn market. What do you think should be done?"
Hermione paused, thinking, then addressed them. "If your goal is to prevent certain wizards or, if I may be so bold to presume at political goals, certain groups of wizards that do not like the present form of government from obtaining Graphorn skin legally for its protective properties, then it would be feasible to purchase every Graphorn provider allowing you control of market for the skins. After that is accomplished, then you would be sure of who you are selling to, for you would be the only company capable of legally selling Graphorn skins. Of course, there is the problem of illegal transactions, but every time someone shows up with said skin without proof of purchase, then you would have a victim. Eventually the problem would be solved."
"Isn't she wonderful?" laughed Draco. "I can tell that you understood about half of that, but don't worry, Ludo, we'll just blame the wine, hmm?" Ludo laughed heartily with the others, not quite getting the joke, but enjoying it all the same. Draco was glad Hermione came along to relieve him from these bores. It was not very nice of his father to dump these wizards on him, but when they were drunk it was so much easier to impress them. And that's why I have her. So clever and pretty. Almost too clever. If she wasn't mine, I'd have her killed as a threat. But I don't need to worry about that.
"Do you just enjoy my company, or did you have another purpose in coming over here?" asked Draco, leading Hermione onto the dance floor. He swayed with her, listening to her reply with closed eyes.
"I'm getting tired of this party and was wondering if I could leave."
"Tired already? But the fun's barely begun, we've still got the dancers and entertainers in ten minutes, then the band will arrive." He spoke almost drunkenly, slowly through a haze of mixed pleasure and pride at his slave. So clever. Too bad I can't take her to all my meetings. Then my work would be much easier, with her to confuse those fools with her words and me to come in for the kill. I'll have to speak to Father about that. Draco realized Hermione had said something a while ago, but they had kept dancing and he couldn't remember what it was. "Did you say something?"
"My feet ache from these shoes."
Draco looked at her face to see a pout on her still-red lips. "You don't like the shoes I picked out for you?"
"I don't wear shoes like this all the time," she said, allowing him to pull her closer, letting his hands guide her head to lean on his shoulder.
"Poor darling. I happen to like them on you. The way you look tonight is most striking." He couldn't help picturing his Hermione in those shoes with only her lingerie on. He licked his lips, advising once again patience.
"You like it?"
"Very." He grinned, a feral gleam in his eye as he was already planning the rest of the evening when he left the party. Those shoes and that dress. His new bathtub. And a few ideas that could be made interesting with her lingerie. Later though, don't want her to be too tired, do we? "But if you're tired, then why don't you go back to my rooms and lie down? Take a nap and you'll feel better, hmm?"
"Thank you," she said, starting to walk away. Suddenly, Draco grabbed her face and kissed her very gently, drinking her in like a fine wine, noting the way her eyes flew open and then fluttered closed, how her body stiffened then relaxed against his, how her hands, searching for something to do, found their way around his neck. He marveled in how responsive she was to his actions. She had learned well, and except for that initial flinch, obeyed his commands without question. But there was plenty of time to fix that silly flinch of hers so she would be smooth and lovely always. Always, he thought, letting her walk away.

Hermione walked out of the ballroom, feeling butterflies in her stomach. Her lips still tingled from the very nice kiss Draco gave her, making her ache with a desire to have him stop hurting her. He shouldn't tease me like that. I'll obey him anyway, with only the threat of pain.but if he'd only do things like that to me instead of hit me.It could be nice.but that's not his style, she thought bitterly. Then she shrugged off her silly desires. She had to worry about something much bigger now. Like how to work with Ron's resistance movement and what targets to tell them to go after. And if she was going to see another morning again.
Rounding the corner, Hermione saw a group of servers, Resistance members, she corrected mentally, standing casually in the shadows, smoking and chatting as if on break. Ginny walked to meet her, telling her that everyone knew about her already while Ron said, "Ok, listen up." Then he faced Hermione. "We're already divided into groups. George and Angelina, Neville and Cho, Oliver and Penny, Michael and Ginny. I was with Fred."
"But I need someone to go with me," interrupted Hermione.
Ron nodded. Then Fred would go alone. Hermione met their eyes, seeing grim determination and not the distrust she'd expected. Maybe if they survived, these people would welcome her? But this is most likely a suicide mission, she thought. "And now I'll let Hermione talk," said Ron.
Clearing her throat, Hermione spoke up, "Despite the control collar I wear, I am one of the most powerful witches in this castle. I can control most of the protective wards set up in various locations, giving you access to places to destroy. Also, I know this castle inside and out, so I can tell you all were to go to do the most damage. You all have your wands?"
"Bet your galleons we do," muttered Oliver. "And don't even ask how we got them in here, because I don't want to talk about it." Penny's nervous giggles were smothered when Oliver glared at her.
"Ok, Oliver and Penny, you can go to the castle's foundations and work on weakening those. If you use a combination of transfiguration spells and weather spells, I think you'll have the most luck." The two approached when she beckoned, watching as she drew in the air with her wand, grabbed from the middle of her corset. "Here's the fastest way to get there, watch out for this pillar, that's where the ward begins. Wait there until the humming stops, then go in and get to work." The designs she's drawn in the air settled onto a piece of parchment, which she handed to Penny. "Leave now, I don't know how much time you'll have once the Death Eaters figure out what's happening. And if you're caught, burn this parchment." Oliver nodded and they ran out of the hallway, not worried about the noises their feet made on stone since the party was still going full swing.
"George and Angelina?" Hermione said, looking at them.
"We're going to hang out here, at the ballroom. Sure, the acrobats they've hired will be entertaining, but I think we can do better," said Angelina, her eyes laughing even though her body was tense. George just nodded his agreement with her.
"Ok," said Hermione. "I hope you know what you're doing."
George spoke up, saying, "We do. Most of them have had too many drinks to be a threat."
"But the ones you need to worry about are too smart to get drunk tonight," said Hermione. "Hopefully they'll leave right away to organize an attack against us, making it clear for you two to work."
"How much resistance do you think we'll get?" asked Neville. Hermione looked at him, then gaped. He had changed so much. Taller and older, still slightly round-faced, but so much more grown-up than the Neville she remembered. He looked like the kind of person she would have been glad to know.
"Immediately. V-vo-v-, my master will sense that the wards have been released, but it will take him and Lucius some time to find all of you. I'm going to be taking all the wards down, but as there are only a few of us, they won't know where to go first. Eventually, Lucius will get the guards together and hunt you all down, but if we're lucky that will take some time. Maybe by then you'll get out of the castle." But she doubted they would make it that far. Lucius was too cunning. He planned for everything and would no doubt have a full squad of guards ready for anything.
"And once we get out?" ventured Cho.
"Snag a broomstick if you can, or grab one of the thestrals from a carriage. I don't know how to help you escape, I've only been outside this castle eleven times in the last four years!" snapped Hermione. She was getting anxious now. If she didn't finish telling them where to go, she might not have enough time to get the wards down before someone noticed a chunk of the serving staff was gone. And being anxious made her short tempered, but right now being polite did not matter.
"And you two," she continued, stabbing a finger at Neville and Cho, "can go to the Dungeons and interrupt several ongoing projects. Set free any prisoners. Make things very chaotic." She handed them another parchment that Neville took meekly. As they turned to leave, Hermione added, "Don't worry too much if most of the prisoners are insane. Just let them out and tell them to start breaking things. And you might see a few people you know, but please ignore them because I can promise you they're beyond any hope of salvation." Her last remark caused both Neville and Cho to turn pale, but they nodded and left.
This leaves Ginny, Michael, and Fred, she thought, searching her mind for places for them to go. "Fred, head down to this area. You'll find an extensive storage area. Destroy as much as you can. Go, quickly." He grabbed the parchment she held out and fled the hallway.
Then she began to speak rapidly to Ginny and Michael. "Why don't you go to the library. I know it sounds silly, but there are so many valuable spells written only in those books. If they were ruined, it would be a terrible loss to the Dark Arts. And you'll probably have to get creative with spells as there are several protective spells on individual books that I can't take down."
"We're pretty imaginative," Michael said wryly as he and Ginny left.

Handing the last parchment, a map to her rooms, to Ron, she said, "Now I've got to take down the wards. If I collapse, just make sure I don't hit my head." She smiled at him, hoping it looked brave, then closed her eyes. If she thought about it, she could see the layers of spells holding the castle together. The wards glowed with a dark light, almost like the absence of light. The darkness of their appearance was due to the way they were constructed, relying on pain to keep people away instead of suggestive spells like the ones the old Ministry used. Steeling herself for what would happen within the next five minutes, Hermione took a firm hold of the wards in her mind and shut them off, feeling power surge through her mind and out into the castle. She felt proud that she managed to take them all down at once, then felt Ron's hands holding her upright as her legs turned to goo.
"Are you alright?" Through a thick fog she heard Ron ask her a question, but she couldn't understand it. I wonder if that was a little more than I should have done, she thought as she tried to get control of her mouth.
"I just need to get to my rooms," she said, taking care not to slur the words. "That was harder than I thought, but I'll recover fast." She took a deep breath. "Draco's going to be so mad with me." Just thinking of him made her chest constrict with fear, but Ron rubbed her arms, jolting her back to the moment.
"Later. Worry later," muttered Ron, throwing one of her arms over his shoulders as they began to move down the hallway.

"Think it's time yet?" asked Angelina, shifting her feet. They were waiting in the dark shadows in the ballroom, watching the acrobats in the center of the room. George grimaced as one of the contortionists bent around another person in such a way that shouldn't be possible. It was a fascinating display, actually. The imaginative costumes and erotic theme of the act captured the attention of everyone in the room.
"No. Do you see Malfoy?"
"Elder or younger?"
"Either."
"Well, Lucius isn't here, but Draco's sitting there," said Angelina, pointing to a table with two people. George looked, gripping his wand tighter. It was almost time.just a few more minutes to give everyone enough time.
"I hope everyone will be ok."
George looked sideways at Angelina. She was looking unconcerned, but George had heard the tightness in her voice. "Don't think about Fred, he'll be fine." "Nice advice." "I try." "Some bartender you must be." "I must be." "Yeah, the only person who likes you enough to listen to your advice is Cho, and I don't think she's after advice." "It's time," said George, ending the conversation before Angelina made him too flustered to work. They stood up and moved to opposite ends of the ballroom. Aiming for a cluster of lights, George said, "Relashio!", unleashing jets of fiery sparks into the air as Angelina did the same thing. The lights dimmed noticeably. Some people looked around, confused, but most continued to watch the act before them.
Angelina kept taking out the lights when George sent several streaks of fire into the air. That got their attention, he thought as the acrobats stopped their act and people began to chatter nervously. Now all the lights were down. Another jet of flame leapt from Angelina's wand and settled onto the nearest tables. Some of them were empty, but a few were occupied. The resulting screams only fueled the chaos as Fred shouted "Incendio!" repeatedly, joining Angelina in torching the ballroom.
He grinned as women in ridiculous shoes tried to run away and drunken men sloppily drew their wands. Angelina had remembered to lock the doors before they attacked, trapping these witches and wizards in the ballroom. "Stupefy!" he shouted at the nearest wizard who crashed backwards into an elderly witch. They fell, tangled in a heap, blocking the path of several witches behind them. George aimed several Leg-Locker Curses at them, moving around to attempt to create the impression that there were more than two of them fighting. He saw that Angelina was doing quite well with a flame spell and whirlwind spell, creating a pocket of insanity in her part of the ballroom. Sure it's fun now, he told himself grimly as he caught a potbellied wizard with a blasting curse, but once they get back on their feet, we'll have to run.

Once the lights began to dim, Draco looked up from the martini he'd been looking at. He didn't think the performance required a change in lighting, but then he could be mistaken.
And then total darkness fell on the ballroom. Draco leapt to his feet, wondering what happened. He saw the flames shoot brilliantly through the dark, lingering on several tables. But it wasn't until he heard shouts of "Stupefy" and other curses that he realized someone was attacking the ballroom.
Just the ballroom? No, that would be silly. Who would attack a ballroom? Maybe this was part of something bigger.maybe a large attack on the castle. An actual sign of resistance, and during the anniversary party too! Draco almost felt elation, excited at the prospect of dealing with those rebel scum, when he remembered Hermione. She might not have made it to his rooms yet.maybe she met one of the attackers in the hallway. In Draco's mind, he saw Hermione forced into submission by someone holding a wand, threatening her with death unless she helped them.
Making up his mind, Draco quickly made his way through the ballroom, ignoring screaming witches running around like food-starved doxies. Hermione wouldn't do that, he thought, my Hermione would calmly take care of this mess. But she might be threatened. They might hurt her. Mine, my Hermione, mine, not theirs. Not ever. I need to find her and make sure she's ok, that she's still mine. Thinking about what he would do if he found someone else with Hermione, Draco ran through the stone hallways with deaf ears to the bedlam coming from the ballroom behind him.

Lucius toyed with his glass, cursing his son under his breath. He had to hire acrobats and contortionists. If nothing else, Lucius disliked such entertainment for their lack of honesty. A good old-fashioned torture session was always more pleasing to his senses.
"You know, I think I might have made a mistake," said Voldemort.
Lucius looked up and saw his master sitting slumped in his chair, staring at the caged Potter. "I didn't think you would be possible of mistakes, master."
"Don't be pert with me. I gave you your power and I can take it away." Voldemort's threat sounded empty though. In spite of himself, Lucius leaned forward curiously. "I was thinking though, that perhaps things have gotten too quiet here. My Death Eaters are growing old and fat, Lucius. There is nothing to keep them dangerous."
"Well, when you kill your entire opposition and enact such protective measures, one can hardly expect formidable resistance," said Lucius lightly.
"You're correct about that."
"Thank you."
"I was thinking that it would have been more fun if I had let a few of them stay alive."
"Hmm?"
"If perhaps Black or a few of those pesky Order of the Phoenix fools were still alive, they'd certainly be fighting back against me. Without any hope of winning, of course, but still, there would be that element of surprise, maybe they would catch the guards off balance, maybe there would be some excitement."
Lucius listened to his master go on about how much fun it would be if there were active rebellions against them. He was astonished. Was it possible that his master was bored with complete power? This was a strange concept, but it made sense for Lucius was very bored with the dull life they were now leading. He'd taken to personally booby-trapping the barracks to keep the guards on their toes, but had resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing to be done for their entire society. "Maybe we can accidentally let a few secrets slip and hope that that 'resistance' movement will do something." He stopped as Voldemort sat up suddenly. "What's wrong?"
The other wizard said, "The wards have all been taken down."
"What?" asked Lucius, standing up with Voldemort.
"Not only that, they've been protected with an anti-resetting spell. There are only three people who can do that, and two of them are in this room."
"That fucking mudblood bitch!" sputtered Lucius. "I'm going to rip every bone out of her body when I catch her!" He started to charge out of the room, but Voldemort held out his hand.
"I'll get the traitor and teach her what I think of people who betray me. I'm sure she's not working alone. You collect the guards and hunt down her collaborators."
"With pleasure," he hissed as he followed Voldemort out of the throne room. They passed the ballroom but didn't stop to investigate the noises coming from within. Lucius suspected that someone was terrorizing the guests. Well, I'll just have to put a stop to this, he thought while jogging to the barracks, positive that whatever scum had decided to attack the castle would be finished off shortly. Suddenly, the ground shook and paintings fell off the walls. Another shift in the floor and Lucius was sure that the castle foundations were being attacked. Only a disruption in those could cause mini-quakes like the ones that continued to rock the castle. He felt a murderous rage settle in his chest, thinking, Maybe tonight won't be so boring after all.

"Which way?" panted Ginny. She and Michael were running through corridors that she didn't know. They would certainly be lost if not for the map Michael looked at in his hand.
"I think left," he said. The slowed down for the turn and jumped back in surprise as they saw Lucius Malfoy yelling at twenty-odd guards in the open space before them. Michael swore, "Oh fuck. Think they saw us?"
"Maybe. They're not coming after us yet, but I'm sure some of them will becoming down this hallway soon." Ginny's mind raced, wondering what to do. She didn't like the idea of giving up, not when they hadn't even done anything yet.
"Why don't we split up?" suggested Michael. "You go back the way we came and I'll try to find another route to the library. Maybe you can find something else to do?"
"I'd like to take care of those spoiled prigs in the ballroom," snarled Ginny, wishing she was throttling a few of the guests right now. Disgusting Death Eaters and their women. "See you later," she said as Michael tiptoed his way as silently as possible to the right. She turned around and began to sprint back to the ballroom, looking for any open doors leading to something breakable. She stumbled as another explosion rocked the castle. Grinning, she figured that Oliver and Penny must have been having a little fun with the castle foundations.

Fred skidded to a stop in front of large metal doors. He had finished racing through a maze of tiny offices and cubicles that he presumed was where wizards worked on sorting through the stuff in the storage areas. If that was indeed what was behind this door, something he wasn't sure about yet. He hadn't yet decided to trust Hermione's word, but for lack of something else to do, he listened to her.
His breath sounded harsh in the silence. No one was working here, due to the late hour and party going on in another part of the castle. Fred debated silently on the best method to open these doors, then shrugged. Maybe the obvious would work.
"Alohomora!" To his surprise, the doors swung open. He frowned, thinking that the Death Eaters would have placed stronger locking spells on this door if indeed it guarded valuable objects. Oh, must have been the wards that Hermione took down, thought Fred as he entered the storage area. Maybe she was trustworthy after all.
He walked through aisles and aisles of shelf stacked twelve feet high, crammed with crates and oddly shaped packages. Curious, Fred stopped and peered at a label. Using his wand to give off some light, he was able to read that this shelf contained samples of hair from almost every person living in Diagon Alley. Horrified, he realized that this collection enabled the Death Eaters to impersonate anyone, at any time. At least there's no polyjuice potion here.
He moved down the aisle, wondering what other horrors were stored here. He saw crates upon crates crammed with parchments, but he didn't bother to rifle through them. There was a large mirror which showed his face growing older and older by the second until his skeleton showed through the skin and crumbled into dust. A chest that opened with an opening spell held musty clothes that had been elegant once, even though there was suspicious stain on the top garment. Fred didn't touch them, though, fearful of what spells might still lay on the fabric.
The next aisle had ornate jars with lids. He opened one and saw a fine gray dust. Rubbing a pinch between his fingers, he said, "Ashes. Of what though?" Then he saw that each jar had tiny writing underneath it, spelling out names. Zacharias Smith, Luna Lovegood, Filius Flitwick, Sybyll Trelawney, Amelia Bones, Rabastan Lestrange, Remus Lupin, Severus Snape.
Fred backed away from those jars, feeling sick as he tried not to wonder what the Death Eaters could be doing with all those human remains. Probably unimaginable research on bringing people back from the dead.or worse. Raising his wand, he shouted, "Incendio!" at the aisle, running back the way he came as flames leapt eagerly through wooden crates and shelves. Within minutes, half the room was being consumed with flames, but Fred knew that was not good enough. Any minute, Death Eaters could find him and put out these flames, salvaging what wouldn't burn quickly. He set off a few more fires, then ran out the room. Swinging the door shut, he locked it with as many locking spells he knew. Then he began to levitate desks and chairs in front of the doors, then used a variation on transfiguration to melt the pieces of furniture together into one huge lump that was impossible to move. Feeling satisfied with his work, Fred turned to find the other storage room located on his map.

The stairs leading down to the dungeons were wet and slippery. Mildew grew on the walls, coating them with slime that squelched every time Neville or Cho touched the wall for balance.
"It is some unwritten law that dungeons always have to be underground?" complained Cho after she slipped on another step and grabbed onto Neville's arm instead of the wall.
"Either that or the tallest tower, I think," he said cheerfully. It was easier to be cheerful than to think about what Hermione had said to them before they left. Don't worry too much if most of the prisoners are insane.you might see a few people you know.ignore them because I can promise you they're beyond any hope of salvation.
"There's the end of the stairs," whispered Cho, readying her wand. Neville nodded and they leaned into the landing quickly, eyes seeking guards.
Only one wizard remained on duty. He was sitting in a chair, currently having a conversation with one of the prisoners, a dirty scrap of a woman.
"Won't you buy me a pony? I've always wanted a pony of my very own. My pony. And daddy promised, but he's not here, so won't you do it?" she said. Neville thought she looked to be around forty years old, too old to be asking for a pony, so he concluded that she must be slightly out of her wits.
"And why do you want a pony? What are you going to name it?" asked the guard, sipping at a wineglass.
"I'll call her 'Pricilla,' queen of the desert! And we'd ride all day and all night!" The guard snorted into his cup. "I want a pony. Will you buy me a pony?"
Neville motioned to Cho that they could take the guard without much trouble. He jumped out into the room below, pointed his wand at the guard, and yelled, "Stupefy!" The man barely had time to look at Neville before he slumped onto the floor.
"Well, that was easy," said Cho, poking around the shelves next to the wall. "Now, do you think they use keys?"
"I'll try an opening spell, you look for keys," said Neville, turning his wand to the first door with the pony woman. "I'm not here to hurt you. We're going to set you free."
"Free? What's free? Does that mean you'll get me a pony?" Neville shook his head sadly at the woman and muttered an opening spell. The lock clicked and the door swung open. The woman moved curiously through the opening until Cho motioned to the stairs.
"If you go up there, you'll find a pony." With childish delight, the woman skipped out of the dungeons. Neville glared at Cho, feeling she was being dishonest, but Cho just shrugged. "I guess that works with the wards down," said Cho. "I'll go this way, you go that way."
"Ok," he agreed. The next cell held a lump of rags. He unlocked the door and rapped his knuckled on the metal bars. "Hello? I've unlocked the door for you. You're free." The rags did not move, but in the next cell a man began to scream, "Free, let me out, let me OUT, get me out of here, out of this hell, away from them, let me out, free me, let me out, let me hurt, let me out!"
Neville quickly unlocked the door and stepped out of the man's way. "You're free now."
The man looked at him with unseeing eyes, running screaming down the hallway, waving his arms in the air. "Free! Out! I'm out!" Other prisoners heard his cry and added their voices to his shrill screams. All Neville could hear were shouts and cries for freedom, people screaming madly, loud sobs, curses. He was horrified that there should be so many people down here. He stood frozen to the ground, unable to move, to act, thinking that if things had turned out a little differently, he could have been trapped down in this dungeon. Because the Death Eaters tortured his parents, they wanted him too, but with help from the Weasleys, he was smuggled into Diagon Alley. But this could have happened to him. He could have been a part of this insane madhouse, victim to who knows what.
"Neville! Get to work!" Cho's sharp words cut through the fog in Neville's mind. He shook his head, feeling foolish for dwelling on the past.
Now he ran to the next door and opened it, saying, "You're free to escape. Destroy things! Go!" Neville tried to avoid being trampled as the prisoners ran madly out of their cells. Once a man clung to his clothes, begging for help, repeating the same words over and over until Neville was forced to shake him off. It took forever for him to reach the end of the hallway, where garbage was caked into the floor and the stench caused him to breathe through his mouth. Covering his mouth with his hand, Neville jogged back to the middle where he and Cho split up. She was already there, riffling through a stack of papers on the shelf.
"My end was shorter, I think. Look at these, they're prisoner manifestos." She handed him a parchment, neatly lined and filled in with tidy handwriting. He scanned it, then looked at Cho.
"I recognize about half of these names," he said, feeling sick to his stomach. Abbot, Creevy, Finnegan, Blarny, Hooch, Figg, MacMillian. The list went on for at least five more feet of parchment, but Neville couldn't look any more. He sagged against the wall, not caring that his waiter uniform was slimed with mildew. So many names he knew-friends and their families, must have been keep underground in this cesspool. Suddenly he stood up, filled with morbid curiosity. St. Mungo's hospital had been attacked and all the patients vanished shortly after Voldemort's initial attack. What if the patients came here for research and entertainment purposes? He muttered a search spell, naming "Longbottom" as the search word. A shimmering light flittered over the parchment, moving down the length of it until it stopped about one foot in. Holding the parchment up to his face with shaking hands, Neville read, "Longbottom, Frank and Mary, Insanity due to Cruciatus Curse Use, Subject for Research on Tolerance of Pain., Primary Objective: Determine if subjects can respond to pain, and if they can, how much they can withstand. Secondary Objective: Determine if subjects can make an ideal soldier capable of following orders without fear of pain or death. Data: See files in Storage Area G. Termination of Study: After one year of research, I have gathered enough data and the subjects are no longer needed. They will be disposed of to provide food for the hellhounds. Signed, Nott.
Neville looked up from the parchment with tears wet on his cheeks. "They tortured my parents for research until they killed them, Cho."
"What?" cried Cho, grabbing at the parchment. She read through it rapidly, then looked at Neville.
He buried his face in his hands, crying, "I know they didn't know me, but they were good people. They didn't deserve this."
"At least no one can hurt them anymore," said Cho, tenderly placing a hand on Neville's shoulder. "And from the looks of these records, your parents sound like they got off lightly. I've found the record for these present prisoners detailing what's been done to them and it's hideous. All sorts of torture, withholding of food and water, all aimed to understand pain it seems. Someone must be a nasty son of a bitch to do this."
"You mean all these prisoners are being kept for pain research? To find the limits of the human body?"
"That, and other things. Like how badly an exploding fluid can really hurt you, or if a person can withstand a banshee's screams and live, or if an adult can be bitten by a werewolf and still live." Cho's voice was bleak. Neville felt the same way, empty inside after hearing about the secret things that had been going on underground while they were living their lives above ground. The words on the parchment sounded crisp and cold, yet if he imagined these things happening to him or any of his friends, Neville's heart seized up with cold and his imagination shut off, unable to envision such things. This discovery drained him of energy and anger. All he wanted to do was sit and weep. He heard Cho sniffle and grabbed one of her hands, trying to smile for her. "Thanks," she said.
"Let's not stay down here, it's too depressing," he said, standing up.
"You're right. But first-" She lit a small fire on the shelf, feeding papers into it until it licked at the wood. Neville watched as the records of the people who lived and died in this dank prison curled into ash, then followed Cho out of the dungeons.

They ran down the hallway, not bothering to be quiet. Hermione kept looking over her shoulder, falling behind Ron. He would pause every time they came to an intersection of corridors and after Hermione told him which way to go, he would race ahead of her. She panted with exertion, not used to this much exercise. And in stilettos no less. Hermione was about to ask Ron to slow down when she felt pain lance from her collar through her bones, feeling like white-hot fire searing out her marrow. Screaming, clawing at her collar, she fell to the ground.
"Hermione!" Ron shouted and ran back to her. She was aware of his arms picking her up for the contact between them hurt her skin, inflaming her nerve endings. "What's wrong?"
Gritting her teeth, Hermione stopped screaming and tried to breathe instead. "It's m-m-my m-m-mas-master.he's f-found out what I've d-d-done."
"How?"
"F-felt it." She clenched her jaw, feeling the pain shift into something more delicate. Instead of lining her bones, it moved outward and settled inside her skin as a painful itch. She wanted to scratch at her skin until it peeled off of her in bloody strips, but she dug her fingers into Ron's shirt instead. This was familiar, she had experienced this before, so she knew better than to tear like her hands ached to do. "Get me to m-my rooms, Ron. Just go." She saw Ron look at her with a horrified look and cried out as he gathered her up in his arms.

Oliver and Penny were slumped together against a closed door, tired yet elated after destroying several of the castle's foundations when they heard a voice say, "Look what I've found, a pair of saboteurs." Oliver leapt in front of Penny to protect her as they both held wands out, but with a shout of "Expelliarmus!" their wands flew into the hands of a wizard who looked like he had recently left the party. He advanced on them, chuckling softly. "I suppose I caught you off guard, so we'll just assume that normally you'd be harder to subdue, hmm?"
"What are you talking about? We're just servers for the party, who snuck away for a little private time," said Penny as she slipped her arm around Oliver's waist. She felt her pulse quicken and tried to give the wizard a coy smile.
He just laughed harder. "You think I'll actually believe that? You're dumber than I thought. I think before I take you to Lucius, I'll have a little fun first. Are you two actually lovers or was that just a lie?" Penny felt her cheeks burn and grabbed at Oliver's arm to stop him from charging this wizard. Of course they weren't, but that would have been nice.
"Don't answer, it doesn't matter. If you were, that only would have made things more interesting." The wizard flicked his wand at Oliver, shouting, "Imperio!" Oliver didn't have time to dodge. As the spell hit him, Penny jumped away.
"Oliver! Fight it off! You can do it!" she shouted at him as the wizard tossed Oliver his wand. He turned to her with a cruel sneer on his lips.
"And now your wand," said the wizard as he tossed a wand to her. "If you want to live, I suggest you fight," he suggested as she stood there unmoving. What is he doing, giving me my wand back? I can use it against him, she thought, thinking about this wizard and forgetting about Oliver.
With a feral shout, Oliver lunged for her. Penny shrieked and shouted, "Pertificus Totalus!", but he dodged it with unnatural speed. He caught her arm and twisted it behind her back. "Oliver," she sobbed. "Stop hurting me, I'm Penny, remember? You have to fight off the curse, you have to, please."
But Oliver wasn't listening to her. His hands reached up to close around her neck, his mind gone. Gasping, she continued to plead with him until she could barely breath. She knew that the other wizard was controlling him, but it hurt to see her friend's face snarling at her. "I'm sorry," she said and pointed her wand at Oliver, ready to fight for her life, hearing cruel laughter in the background.

Hiding in shadows, Parvati Patil slipped off her shoes and clutched them to her chest. She felt fear, an emotion she was not familiar with. Cursing the people who had been attacking them in the ballroom, she thought, That's why I live with Malcolm, so I wouldn't have to be afraid anymore. Where are those fucking guards? She decided to try and find someone else, preferably a Death Eater, to protect her.
Walking through the castle, still coughing from smoke inhalation, Parvati still couldn't believe what was happening. She supposed the tiny Resistance that Malcolm and his buddies joked about had finally become bold enough to attack the castle. Fucking upstart rebels. How dare they? How dare they destroy our peace and attack us without provocation!
She continued to curse inside her head until she heard the sound of booted feet. Pressing up against the wall, Parvati waited until she saw a group of about a dozen Death Eaters guards run down the hallway. One of them stopped when she shouted at them. "Ma'am, are you hurt?"
"No, just angry. What the fuck is going on? Where is everyone?" she said.
"Most of the guests are gathered in the courtyard. Carriages are being provided so they can leave. I'll escort you there." The guard took her elbow and led her down the hall.
"Are you doing something about these rebels?" she asked impatiently.
"Lord Malfoy has organized the guard. Everyone who dared to attack us will be caught and dealt with."
"Good," Parvati said, feeling proud that the Death Eaters were retaliating so quickly. She was confident that they would take care of this mess and tonight would become something exciting to gossip about by next week.

Spotting a group of Death Eater guards gathered around the entrance to the ballroom, Ginny slipped into the nearest door. She peered around the room, finding no one present. After shutting the door, she walked into the room. It was large, with ornate designs in the floor tiles and a large chair, perhaps a throne, coming out of the wall. With a shudder, she realized this had to be Voldemort's throne room. It fit him perfectly she thought, noticing the serpent motif repeated everywhere, on the floor, the walls, even on the candlesticks.
"I suppose everyone's busy hunting us down," she said, feeling glad that she didn't have to fight anyone at the moment. Yet something shifted in the corner, making a slight rasping noise. Ginny jumped, pulling her wand out. Had she missed a person hiding in here? She advanced cautiously, ready to stun if anyone attacked her.
When she saw a gilded cage to the side of the throne, she paused. Had the noise come from there? Inside was a pile of rags in a vaguely human-shape. "Hello?" she called. "Is anyone here?"
The rags moved and became clothes for the man who stood up. Ginny could barely see his face for the tangled mass of black hair that trailed off his scalp and face. She stepped closer, wondering who this filthy person was. She asked, "Can you hear me?" When the man didn't respond, she said, "I'm a friend, ok? I'm going to let you out of this cage." Using her wand, the door to the cage opened.
"Come here, I'm not gonna hurt you," she said, beckoning to the man. He obeyed, moving out to grasp her hand. Once he was close enough, Ginny pushed back some of his hair, trying to see his eyes. Suddenly she pulled her hand back like she's been burned. On his forehead was a scar in the shape of a lightening bolt and she could see his brilliant green eyes. "Harry?" she croaked, feeling numb. The man swiveled his head, looking past her. "Harry, is it you?" She grabbed his hands, yanking them roughly. "Harry Potter! Can you hear me? Do you understand me?"
Nothing she said had any effect on him except for when she uttered his name. Then he would show some sign of recognition, but other than that, he just stood still.
"Harry, what's wrong with you? Why won't you answer me?" Ginny said, thinking aloud. "It's like you can't hear me, or like you're not there." She stopped, feeling her chest grow cold with fear. "You're not all there, are you, Harry? You didn't die four years ago, did you? You've been Kissed," she whispered.

After they fled the oppressive stink of the dungeons, Neville and Cho crept through the castle, successfully avoiding any hysterical party guests and prisoners still running amuck. But they stopped short behind a serpent statue when Cho spotted a group of Death Eaters ahead.
"Look," she said. "What, there's about a dozen of them?"
Neville nodded. Cho noticed how pale his face looked and thought that the trip through the dungeons must have shaken her friend up a bit, but as she looked at her hands tightly clenching her wand, she knew that she was just as scared. She whispered, "What should we do? Go around them?"
"No," said Neville. "Let's try to listen and find out what they're doing." Cho gulped and followed Neville, creeping closer along the wall, closer to those Death Eaters, milling about with their wands out and ugly mouths no doubt uttering vulgar comments about the Resistance.
".weren't you listening to Lord Malfoy?" said the weasel-looking man closest to where Cho and Neville huddled in the shadows.
Another man said, "Yeah, but I didn't hear nothing about splitting up like you're saying."
"Scared, Thom, are you? Of just some rebel scum?" laughed someone else as most of the men chuckled while the second man grimaced.
The sound of shuffling feet. "I don't mean it like that. Just that these rebels must have something special if they made it inside the castle, you know what I'm saying?"
"I hear you, but it's not our place to question our orders!" snapped the first man. "Do what I say or instead of those rebels, it will be your head delivered to our Master! So split up and head in different directions. Try to capture them alive for interrogation later, but it's ok to kill them."
A shifty-looking man smirked. "Interrogation, huh? Sounds like some more prey for the dungeons to me. Is Nott running out of fresh meat?"
"You could say that," muttered the first man. "Of course, if the prey turn out to be some of those lovely waitresses from the ball, I could get us on dungeon duty for the next few weeks."
"Ha! You like to watch too!" The shifty-looking man nudged the other man as they both laughed, a sound that skittered down Cho's back like hairy insect legs. She shuddered, feeling sick at the thought of what would happen to her if she was captured.
The men kept talking and making jokes, stalling before they spit up to find us, thought Cho. She looked at Neville. "What should we do?"
He edged away from the Death Eaters so they could whisper with less risk of getting caught. "They're going to split up and hunt us down. And because they probably know the castle better than we do, they'll find us."
"Just tell me your idea before they hear us!" She glared at him, irritated that he wasted time reiterating the things she already knew.
Neville set his jaw and said, "We have to stop this group from finding anyone else, who might still need time."
"What?" squeaked Cho. "Just us, two against the twelve of them? Oh, yeah, that'll work. Brilliant. We're going to die in this hallway in less than five minutes, aren't we?"
"If you want to surrender and be taken alive back down to those prison cells, go ahead!" whispered Neville, his eyes flashing at Cho. "But I refuse to give up and I refuse to be treated like something less than a person, like all those prisoners we saw. Like my parents. So either shut the hell up and help me, or go out there and surrender like a fucking coward."
Cho blinked, startled to hear Neville swear or sound so angry. His sweet face and nature disguised the anger and hurt that he hid from everyone so well that it was easy to forget that Neville suffered just as much as the rest of them. She said with a crooked smile, "Sorry, Neville. Don't say things like that. I'm for dying today if you are."
He cracked a smile at that. Relieved, Cho said, "I'm sure there are more of them." What was a disheartening thought, that the castle might well be crawling with Death Eaters like an infestation of cockroaches. "But if we try to blind them or fill the hallway with smoke, we might be able to pretend there's more than two of us."
"And block off the hallway." said Neville. "Ready?"
She nodded. Her wand at ready, Cho followed Neville as they crept back towards the group of Death Eaters. The men looked like they were starting to go their separate ways. Giving Cho a shoulder-squeeze, for luck she presumed, Neville shot a blast of lightning at the ceiling above the group from the shadows, then sprinted to another spot to send random curses into the dust cloud. Cho raised her wand and began to shout "Stupefy!" at any moving shadows, running from place to place, trying to ignore how silly she felt, and concentrating on distracting these Death Eaters while staying alive.

Grimacing as he laid Hermione down on the couch, Ron said, "This ok?"
Hermione nodded, her face pale except for her lips, which were red from where she was biting earlier. Ron's heart twisted at the memory of Hermione screaming like that, a small, desolate scream that sounded like it had already decided to give up. Instead of staring at Hermione's clenched jaw and the spot where her fingernails were biting into her fists, Ron looked around the room. He presumed it was her room, seeing as she managed to give him enough directions to this place. But it was so cluttered and disheveled.not like the Hermione he knew. Another sign that things had changed.
"Need anything?" he asked, peering at some dusty scrolls.
"Ron, li-listen to me." He turned around at Hermione's request as she spoke in breathless sentences. "My m-m-master will find me and comm- mme here so-oon, so we d-don't have time." Ron sank down in front of Hermione so she could focus on his face. He was alarmed at the difficulty she was having in speaking, trying not to imagine what she must be feeling that made her slur her words like that.
"Time for what? What is it Hermione? Tell me?" He gave her a little shake when she closed her eyes in a grimace.
Eyes snapping open, Hermione looked at him. All he saw was pain filled brown eyes that he used to know so well and now felt familiar with and at the same time wanted to keep at arm's length. "Time to.to get ready befo-before he c-c-comes." Ron nodded, not really understanding what she was saying. Hopefully Hermione had a plan that would save their skins, just like the old days, despite the pit of fear that told him she didn't.

Running past room after room of offices, Fred tried to make his to another storeroom. He lost the map Hermione gave him somewhere in one of the storerooms almost immediately, probably dropping it in morbid fascination at the hideous objects hidden away in the castle. The last storeroom featured rows of large jars, containing various animals preserved in a clear fluid. The animals' features were pressed up against the glass in a manner that suggested that the animals had grown to maturity inside the glass jars. And the jars sometimes came in strange shapes, producing even more exotic shaped animals. George left whatever food he had eaten that day on the floor before he moved on. After that, he stopped looking inside the storerooms and just set out to destroy them.
He passed a staircase and was a few paces away from it when he heard footsteps. Instead of looking, George leapt to the side, narrowly missing a bolt of green light. He hit the stone floor and rolled, twisting his body around to face the staircase. A tall, white figure stood on the bottom stair, holding a wand up high. With a second look after he sprang to his feet, George realized that Fleur Delacour was the witch who just tried to kill him.
"Fleur?" he said incredulously as he backed away, also holding his wand up.
"And you are one of ze Weasleys, are you not?" Without waiting for his answer, Fleur shouted, "Stupefy!" George jumped aside, feeling a rush of power as the spell missed.
"You stupid idiot! 'Ow dare you attack ze castle! Who knows 'ow many tings you 'ave destroyed by now!" Fleur screamed as she shot curses and hexes towards George. He tried to send some back to her, but it was all he could do to block Fleur's spells. Ducking behind a corner, he tried to think. But thinking turned out to be not as useful as aiming a few curses of his own around the corner towards Fleur.
"Give up!"
George laughed as he tossed another curse at Fleur, feeling pretty sure he missed again. Doesn't matter as long as she can't get near me. He shouted, "You crazy bitch. You think I'm just going to surrender myself immediately, on account of your veela charms I'm sure."
"Why not?" she shouted back. "Your brother Bill did, before I killed him."
"You killed my brother?!" roared George, rounding the corner with a blasting charm to keep Fleur back. "You killed Bill? Bitch isn't a foul enough word for you, Fleur!"
"You're right, you miserable fucker. Why don't you die like a good boy, like your beloved Bill?" she said, laughing at him. George screamed at her, feeling numb with rage. He stopped feeling fear and grief and fatigue, only anger as he dueled with Fleur, dodging her spells and trying his damnedest to kill the vile witch in front of him, not noticing the arrival of Marcus Flint and two other guards. But they stood back, deciding to watch the duel before they stepped in.

Muttering to himself, Draco ran through the halls, counting the doorways in his own way of not getting lost. "Seventy-six, sure to be coming up soon, won't let anything.not to mine.seventy-seven.my lovely.if they've hurt." Images kept flashing through his head, pictures colored like the black and white muggle photos Hermione smuggled into her rooms, little movies inside Draco's head made of gray figures and gray backgrounds upon which red blood splashed vividly. Hermione's blood, he knew. Someone else spilling her crimson life on gray stone. A stranger slicing at her skin. Trying to make her talk. To make her betray him. And then she would die. Lifeless eyes like a doll. Gaping mouth. Wouldn't tell. Stayed strong. Just like he knew she would. His. He made her strong. Good. Just run faster. Get there before she dies. Before you lose-
Hearing shouts mingled with spells, Draco stopped running and stood still. He craned his head, trying to figure out what was going on. It sounded like a magical duel. Desperate shouts came through clearly to Draco's ears as he walked closer.
Through smoke and dust, he saw a group of Death Eater guards crouched behind a pile of rubble, firing spells at two figures hidden by the corner. Draco stayed long enough to determine that the guards would apprehend the rebels without delay, then he started running again.

"You're not all there, are you, Harry? You didn't die four years ago, did you? You've been Kissed," Ginny whispered. She felt her heart grow cold as icy fear and shock seeped through her chest.
"Voldemort didn't kill you. He wanted to keep you alive, as, as a trophy, because that's what you are now, in this cage of yours," she said, motioning to the gilded bars. Harry's eyes followed the movement, then settled back into staring ahead at the wall.
"You don't even know what I'm saying, do you? Harry! Answer me!" she screamed, then felt tears well up in frustration. "Oh, Harry. This is so perfect for Voldemort, isn't it?" Ginny sighed, sitting down on the floor. Harry copied her awkwardly, flopping next to her feet. "He condemned you to the same fate he suffered when he tried to kill you. All those years he spent wandering the world without a body, just soul.he wanted you to suffer the same fate. And now all that's in front of me is an empty body, right? That's all you are." She talked through her fingers, feeling hot tears drip onto her knees. Ginny knew Harry couldn't possibly understand her words, but it felt better to talk aloud.
"Just an empty body that he keeps as a trophy," she repeated, raising her head to stare at Harry. She took in his gaunt appearance, shaggy hair, and vacant, dull green eyes. This was just a shade of what Harry had been. This was just his body. There was no spark of life in his eyes, no intelligence lighting up his face. The person she loved along with Ron and Hermione was gone, forever.
"We always assumed you were killed, Harry," Ginny whispered. She knelt in front of Harry's body, holding one of his hands. "Killed by Voldemort, but this is worse. This is an insult to your memory." Taking her free hand, Ginny slid out her knife from her boot. "I can't let this wrong go on. I hope you understand." Even though her hands trembled, her motions were sure and swift. She raised her knife, and taking hold of Harry's unresisting head with her free hand, Ginny placed the sharp point on his neck and jerked across sharply, feeling tendons give way underneath the metal. Warm blood gushed out of Harry's body as it sagged onto the floor. Ginny let him go, hearing his head crack loudly on the stone floor.

"I'm sorry," she said brokenly, wiping at her eyes with sticky hands. Vaguely, Ginny realized that she was covered in Harry's blood. All she could think was that Harry was really dead. Stumbling, she reached a door and yanked it open without thinking. Cursing her still-blurry eyes, she tried to wipe them again, walking blindly through the doorway and smacking rudely into another person. Blinking back tears and blood, Ginny saw that she had run into Lucius Malfoy.
"Maybe tonight won't be so bad, now that I've finally found someone to kill," she heard him snarl before his arm whipped out to clasp around her throat. Choking for breath, Ginny tried to raise a leg to kick the taller man, but he freed one hand to punch her hard in the stomach. The room started to go black before she remembered she was still holding her knife. Ginny pulled her hand up between their bodies and dragged the blade shallowly across Malfoy's gut. He gasped, "So the bitch has got claws," throwing her to the floor and kicking her before she could get up. Ginny curled around her side, painfully aware that Malfoy was going to kill her.

"Give up!"
"Never!"
"We've caught the rest of your group! Just give up and save yourselves the energy!"
"What, too scared to come and get us? Bunch of scaredy cats, and here I thought we'd be fighting the fearsome Death Eaters!"
"Miserable upstarts! You're the bloody cowards, come out and fight like a man! Oh, wait, you're not!"
George pulled an angry Angelina down behind the table they had turned on its side as an Impedimenta spell just missed taking her head off. She swore loudly, earning laughter from the group of Death Eaters by the doorway. Angelina and George were blocked up against a wall, well away from any exit. After they scared away the silly partygoers, the remaining guests fought back with the killing curse instead of stunning spells. Subsequently, Angelina found herself backed into a corner with no hope of rescue. And I'm stuck with George. she thought morosely, aching for Fred's presence instead of his twin's. At least then Fred might have come up with a ridiculous plan of action for them. But it was beyond the time to think about that, she knew. Right now was the time to fight and run away, if only they could.
"Hey, look," said George, nudging her shoulder. She looked and saw two men creeping towards them, following the perimeter of the ballroom. The Death Eaters were trying to surround them and attack from behind. Not only where they outnumbered, but the Death Eaters had to force it like this. Bastards, with no sense of honor. Angelina turned back to George and saw grim determination in his face. "Do you want to stay here and hold out together, or make a break for it?"
"I say we run," she whispered, feeling suddenly tired. Another thing to do that wouldn't work. Just one more mission.
They looked at each other, muscles tensing, strained breathing. Then George shot off a Hex Deflection charm and both George and Angelina sprinted for the farthest door. She pumped her legs and arms, feeling hot pain lance up her limbs from sitting crouched so long. Hearing a shouted spell, she leapt to the side, missing one stunning spell only to catch the second in her leg. She fell sprawled on the floor, unable to move or run away. She watched as George kept running as a hazy figure. He made it to the door, but a pair of guards caught him before he could get away. They dragged him back to where she lay on the floor and threw him down roughly. Angelina looked at George. His face was closed off, emotionless now. Blinking back tears, she heard footsteps approaching.
"Seems like you're not much good at anything, are you?" laughed a low voice. Angelina closed her eyes, unable to block out his voice saying, "But I'll bet you're good at dying."

"Oliver! Listen to me! You don't have to do this! Stop it!" Penny's hoarse shouts echoed off the stone walls, but failed to sink into Oliver. He advanced on her, expertly dodging her spells and shooting off his own. Dimly, somewhere deep inside, Oliver watched Penny scurry backwards and was alarmed at the frightened look on her face, but he couldn't seem to care. It didn't matter enough to get worked up about. The other voice inside his head was so much louder and made so much more sense that Oliver had forgotten about ever thinking on his own. Distracted now, he tried to remember thinking without the voice telling him what to do. He shook his head, or pretended he did. It didn't work without the voice telling to it. Like now, it was instructing his muscles to walk forwards, moving his mouth to shout spells, allowing him to advance on Penny. Now he was standing right over Penny. Her screams irritated him. Oliver felt his face frown, but didn't feel like he had actually frowned. There it was again, that sensation that he was doing something even though he knew that he wasn't. Perhaps it was like someone else was borrowing his body while he sat in the dark and watched this strange picture show. Yes, that's what it was. Someone needed his body, needed to borrow Oliver Wood, and they left him this lovely movie to watch. It seemed to be somewhat scary. A man trapped the crying and screaming heroine. It sounded like she was saying "Oliver," and he felt a jolt of recognition at hearing his name, then laughed. It was a great coincidence that the villain in the movie had the same name as him. Oliver watched two hands squeeze Penny's neck until she almost stopped struggling. He felt sad for her that she was going to die, but not too sad, for it wasn't real.

"Help me up," said Hermione. Ron immediately placed her arm over his shoulders and helped her stand up. She felt so grateful for his comforting warmth. This was what she needed. "Over there, by that table, take us there."
They moved over slowly, twisting through her crowded floor. She saw Ron's eyes watch the floor, moving her out of any obstacles. After they passed a six-foot high stack of books, she said, "I apologize for the state of m-my rooms. I wasn't ex-pecting company tonight."
Ron's quiet chuckle almost made Hermione forget about the poisonous pain still swimming through her body. It was duller now, though, but she couldn't tell if it was because she got used to it or if He reduced the spell. They stopped in front of the table. "What do you want?" he asked, setting her down on the stool.
"I need to retrieve something," she said, holding out her wand. She closed her eyes, visualizing where she hid it. It was just out of reach until she said the spell, reaching out her other hand at the same time. She closed her fist around the small, metal object. "This," she said, presenting it to Ron.
"A Time-Turner?" he asked, looking at it, but keeping his hands away.

Hermione turned it in her hand, feeling a small glow of pride at the astonished note in Ron's voice. "My m-master destroyed all Time-Turners after he took over, but I made this one in secret. It's taken me years. And I didn't know when to use it, but now will work."
"Now?"
"We can go back in time and change the past so this doesn't happen, so that V-, my master is defeated. We can go back to any year, and this will take both of us. I was too afraid to use it.afraid if someone found it before I got away and what would happen." She dropped a hand to her neck, hiding the bite mark. "But I figure that with my taking down those wards for you all, I'm as good as dead anyway. Maybe I'll be Kissed too and have a gold cage like Harry." Bitter laughter came from her mouth as she thought of how ridiculous the throne room would look with two cages on either side of Voldemort's throne.
"Harry? What do you mean, Hermione?" asked Ron.
She cursed silently, having forgotten that Ron didn't know about Harry. "Nothing," she said, waving it away. "I'll tell you later. We've got to go before someone comes to find me."
"Who?" said Ron, glancing over his shoulder at the still-closed door. "Draco?"
Hermione nodded, conjuring up a chain for the Time-Turner and placing it around her neck, while saying, "Either him or Lucius or my master. So, ready?"
Ron smiled and said, "Thought you'd never ask." Hermione felt her heart give a funny hitch and thought that she'd never seen a more beautiful sight that Ron smiling at her. Then she heard the door fly open and saw Draco's furious face in the door. She tucked the metal into the tight opening of her dress where it wouldn't fall out. Ron turned around after seeing the look on her face and moved in front of her protectively.
"Avada Kadava!" screamed Draco, sending green light into Ron's body. Hermione screamed as he fell to the floor, tugging with weak arms at his shirt. His brown eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. She sobbed into her hands until she felt hands touch at her shoulders.
"Draco!" Hermione snarled, whirling around to glare at him. The sight of his concerned face infuriated her. What had he done? How could he kill Ron like that? How dare he?
"Hermione, are you ok? I was so scared for you, I knew they forced you to help them," Draco babbled. "I thought that you were dead, did he hurt you? Let me see you." He reached out for her.
Screaming with the built-up anger of four years, Hermione lunged at Draco, reaching out her hands for his face. She clawed at his eyes and kicked with her heeled-feet. He tried to get his hands between their bodies, levering for a better grip on her, trying to push her scratching, biting hands away. Wedging a hand against her face, Draco pushed her away from him. He spat, "Bitch!" as she got his jaw with an uppercut before stepping back.
"Why don't you just kill me too?" yelled Hermione, throwing her arms wide.
"What are you talking about? What's wrong with you?" said Draco, feeling experimentally at his mouth. His fingers came away stained with red.
She laughed, an almost hysterical sound, moving close to Draco. He back away, then stopped as she jabbed at his chest with her finger. "Don't you know Draco? Haven't you figured it out yet? All this time and you still haven't gotten it? The only piece of happiness that's come into my life and you kill him!"
"Do you mean Weasley here?" Hermione only nodded, wanting to rip off Draco's head with her bare hands, hating the sound of his confused voice. "Weasley made you happy? What about us? I don't please you?"
"You only hurt me."
"How can you say that? I take care of you," he said, trying to smooth away flyways from her face.
"Are you that stupid? You think they forced me to help them? Let me tell you something," said Hermione, poking Draco in the chest. "I help them willingly. I'm a traitor. I betrayed the castle's secrets to the Rebellion. What are you going to do about that? Your little toy helped the rebels attack the mighty Death Eaters. Ironic, isn't it?" The completely incredulous look on Draco's face would have been funny if she didn't feel like he had just ripped apart her soul and left a gaping hole in her chest.
"It's nice to have such a confession," said third voice from the open doorway. Hermione and Draco both looked, seeing Voldemort's towering figure filling up the doorway.
She cringed, feeling his presence affect her like a physical blow. He looked so angry with her, his eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at her. The full force of his anger made Hermione feel like a puppy that had just made a mess on the floor, or at least she felt like a defenseless puppy. What she had done was much worse than anything a puppy could have done, though. Voldemort made it very clear throughout his reign how he felt about traitors and anyone who betrayed him. Easily, Hermione could think of several grisly examples. Her pulse sped up just thinking about it.
Voldemort continued to stare at her even after she looked down at the floor, hugging herself tightly. She knew he was waiting for her to crack. He wanted her to say something first, to beg for her life, to plead her innocence, anything, just so he would have the excuse to attack her. But Hermione grit her teeth, figuring that she was going to be tortured horribly no matter what she said, and I don't want to give him the pleasure of making me crack first!
A strangled voice interrupted the battle of wills between Hermione and Voldemort. "My lord, you are just in time to help me figure out what is going on here," said Draco, looking at Voldemort's face with fear.
"I think we are all sure what this mudblood has been busy doing tonight, don't we?" said Voldemort. He switched his gaze from Hermione to Draco. She sagged with relief at the moment's respite from those hateful eyes. "And you, Draco, are far more stupid than Lucius and I originally suspected."
"Wha-what do you mean?" stuttered Draco.
"Lucius always suspected that you let this mudblood take up too much of your time. And I see he was right. You have been fooled by this filthy bitch ever since you claimed her." Wanting to continue with Hermione, Voldemort turned away from Draco's stricken face.
But the blond man was shaking his head and saying, "My-my father said that? But-but I thought that, that he finally believed.in me."
"Your father took you for a fool long before I did," snapped Voldemort. "Long before I should have realized it. You waste my time," he said as he flicked his wand towards Draco. An invisible hand reached out, filling the air with Voldemort's power, and smacked Draco's body across the room. It hit the wall with a sickening thump that made Hermione involuntarily jump. "And you, my mudblood pet, have severely disappointed me, for the last time, I think. You have helped these rebels destroy parts of my castle, correct?" Hermione closed her eyes, hearing Voldemort walk closer to her. His footsteps were agonizingly slow. Step. Pause. Step. Pause. Inches from her ear, Voldemort whispered, "Well? No answer? Crucio!" The tendons in her arms and legs tightened up with pain, and Hermione slumped to the floor, unable to stand. She screamed wordlessly, having long ago given up any dignity while under the Cruciatus curse. It wasn't worth it.
Eventually, Voldemort said, "Finite Incantatum." She lay twitching on the floor, her dress twisted up around her legs and the elegant twists of her hair tangled. "You helped them destroy the castle?"
Hermione nodded her head, whimpering at the pain that simple motion caused. Her bones still hurt from the control collar and she felt like she had lost all control of her muscles. The way her fingers still twitched bothered her, but she couldn't stop it. The sound of her master's voice yanked her attention away from her battered nerves.
"And you took down all the wards, didn't you?" She nodded again. Voldemort chuckled. "You took a big risk, as I'm sure you knew. No matter what happened, if by accident, the rebels were successful, I would have punished you. And if they failed and you were all caught, then I still would have punished you. No matter what happened, I still would catch you. Correct?" He waited until Hermione nodded again before continuing. "I suppose I didn't break you as nearly well enough as I had thought. But enough of that. You're still the failure, aren't you? You've been caught. Your rebel friends are being rounded up as I speak to you. And soon they'll be tortured and killed as examples to the rest of the population. But I won't kill you outright. You're too special for that, my pet." Voldemort grabbed Hermione's scalp and jerked her head up to his face. He shook her as he said, "You betrayed me, pet, and like any pet you will learn from your mistakes. I have put too much time into training you, so don't bother begging for death because as long as I live, so shall you!" As he finished his threat, Voldemort threw Hermione onto the floor violently, laughing as she cracked her head on the floor.
"Your will, m-m-master," she said, holding the back of her head, sensing that she had finally found a bit of courage inside her, "means nothing to me."
"What did you say to me?" Voldemort hissed as he readied his wand for another curse.
Standing up, Hermione whispered, "I said that-that what you want m-m- means nothing to me anym-more."
"And what gives you that right, pet?" asked Voldemort, placing particular emphasis on the word pet.
"This!" said Hermione, pulling out the Time-Turner from her neckline. She saw the furious look on Voldemort's face as she grasped the Time- Turner in both hands. His mouth contorted in a feral snarl, his hands moving to lift his wand in a spell.
She began to turn the Time-Turner, but almost dropped it when she felt arms latch around her shoulders, feeling the cold metal chain around her neck lift up slightly. "Go," whispered Draco in her ear. Holding the Time-Turner confidently in front of her, Hermione flipped it upside down and saw the world become twisted and loose definition. Voldemort's livid expression as he tried to reach her blended into the crowed shelves of Hermione's room. She watched with half-closed eyes as the colors faded from view, the feeling of the floor against her feet eased into nothing, the cold air on her skin vanished, all sensations of the world disappeared except for Draco's arms around her. Before the world became a black, tumbling void, Hermione's dazed mind felt gratitude that she was not going back into the spoiled past alone.