Disclaimer: Harry Potter is totally and completely not mine.
Author's Notes:
Many thanks to Jennifer, my fantastic beta, once again.
And of course, to my reviewers; Kou Shun'u, FEAngel258, PolishPrincess, Blanche Dubois, Frozen Darkness, Varda, RaveN MiZt, Windkull, beachLEMON, and devils chick1… You all brought me so many smiles. And oh, the flattery… I'm speechless. Thank you. I'm really glad that you're enjoying the saga. And Kou Shun'u, as much as I love to write, I'm sure I'll end up talking myself into writing another overly involved story if I don't write a sequel to this. Thank you so much for all of your kind words and encouragement. *insert smile here*
I've actually finished DSOL in its entirety and am currently in the process of editing Chapter 14 and the epilogue. Thanks for being so patient with Chapter 13.
Also, I'd like to make a note about Apparating. I realize that in the wizarding world, one cannot simply wake up one day and possess the ability to Apparate. It's something they have to train for and get licenses in. In this particular piece of fanfiction, this occurs the summer before sixth year for most of our characters. I also think that Apparation is probably something the Dark Lord makes sure his Death Eaters know right away, regardless of age or license.
So there is no popping without reason here. I promise. Please, work with me.
Sorry about the long author's notes! I really hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Leave me a review and let me know what you think.
~~~~
"Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up."
- Bible: Ecclesiastes
~~~~
Hermione rolled over again, viciously kicking the sheets charmed to soothe her. She wanted no soothing. And why was Lucius so concerned with her welfare anyway?
I'm sorry, my Lord.
Something was wrong here.
I just did not realize that I would be staying here. I thought that… Well… Perhaps…
Very wrong. This was certainly not how she had envisioned her night.
You thought that you would be initiated?
It was funny, in a way, when she considered what she hadn't experienced, and what she wanted. She hadn't gotten the Dark Mark. She hadn't experienced any kind of pain.
That you would just show up here and I'd make you one of my own?
So why was she so distressed?
After years of friendship with Potter?
Because the Dark Lord was being kind to her.
And at our very first meeting?
Why? What were his plans for her? Why did he want her here? If he wasn't going to kill her, torture her, or make her one of his Death Eaters, why was she here?
Did you really think that it would be that easy?
So now she couldn't sleep. Now she was tossing and turning, and thinking about the Dark Lord, and worrying… Now she was worrying about Draco too. She felt a pain in her chest when she considered him.
No, my dear.
They had just begun to get close again... Wasn't she getting him back? Last night it had all seemed so clear. Wouldn't they be together now? United under the bond of Voldemort's dominion?
You're not here to be initiated.
How sick. She realized suddenly, painfully, that she didn't want that with Draco. If she had Draco, she wanted him all to herself, everyone else be damned.
You're here… Well…
She closed her eyes slowly. Why did she ever think anything else mattered? It was all about him. All about Draco.
We will discuss this some more tomorrow.
After years of friendship with Potter.
Goodnight, Miss Granger.
***
Ron lay in front of the gates of Hogwarts, unable to so much as lift his arm. The pain coursing through him at this very moment was only a reminder of what Crucio had felt like, but it still hurt a hell of a lot more than anything Ron had ever before endured.
He had to move. He had to find Harry. He had to warn him. But first, he had to move from this spot. If he didn't… Well…
If he didn't move, Ron knew he would soon be dead.
With every ounce of his will, he concentrated on ignoring the pain and lifting himself, or at least pushing himself through the gates. The gates… Well, the gates symbolized safety. He didn't know if they actually worked like that, if he would be safe once past them, but it was worth a shot.
This was like a Full Body Bind. With the exception that every inch of Ron's body felt as though it was on fire. On the inside.
He grimaced. He couldn't think about the pain. Oh, Merlin, he had to move.
His arm lifted slightly off the ground, before falling again. Good. Alright. What could he do with this?
Would Occlumency be of any use right now? Ron wasn't sure if he could concentrate that hard. But he had to try.
With a deep breath, he managed to lift his wand arm.
***
Severus Snape tumbled gracelessly from his bed. Cursing violently and clutching his head, he rolled, furiously, to a sitting position.
Fucking Weasley. This was it. Dumbledore would hear no end to this -
Was he in trouble? Amidst the slowly weakening stinging in his brain, Professor Snape found a faint call for help. Had Ron been called last night?
Oh no.
Snape scrambled to his feet, grabbed a hand full of floo powder, and in a matter of seconds, was rushing out the entrance hall in his nightshirt towards the gates and Ron's prone figure.
***
Voldemort grinned and Hermione wanted desperately to vomit.
Instead, she forced her own smile and bowed. "You wished to see me, Lor-…my Lord?"
Voldemort laughed.
"Hermione Granger… Mudblood extraordinaire. Please do have a seat."
Hermione swallowed nervously and glanced around her at her surroundings, finally choosing a rather severe looking straight-backed chair across from the Dark Lord.
"Thank you."
Voldemort stretched languidly in his armchair and examined his hands for a few minutes. Hermione wondered if she had been wrong all along, and he was going to kill her.
Finally, after several minutes, he turned his attention back to her.
"I believe you know Ronald Weasley?"
Hermione tried to breathe but couldn't seem to find the air. With all of the oxygen she could muster, she managed a whisper.
"Yes sir."
Voldemort's countenance became suddenly serious. "Were you aware of his attempt at spying on me?"
'Oh, God. Ron's dead. Ron's dead, Ron's dead, Ron's dead. Dead dead dead dead dead.'
"No sir. We haven't been very close as of late."
"Yes. He tried to lead me to believe it had something to do with your heritage. What a silly boy. As if I'd ever really allow a good friend of Potter's to enter my ranks. Sad, really, how dense those insipid Weasleys are."
Voldemort sighed deeply, as if the very thought of Ron's stupidity was taxing.
Hermione waited to hear him tell her how he had murdered Ron, how she would be next… She only had a few minutes to live now - she had to use it well.
What would happen to Draco?
The Dark Lord's hissing interrupted her thoughts.
"It's no matter. He won't even make it past the gates. Even if he did, I doubt it would do anything but further my cause. And you're here, now. I think you're worth a lot more in Potter's book than the red headed imbecile."
Hermione closed her eyes and focused her breathing. When Voldemort didn't continue, she opened her eyes. He was watching her, a curious grin playing on his lips.
"You're wondering what will become of you?"
Hermione found that she was able to nod, and did so.
Voldemort leaned back luxuriously in his chair. "You'll be staying here. And eventually, the glorious, heroic, Boy Who Lived will attempt his gallant rescue of you. Once he comes and once he dies, we will determine your fate. I believe that Draco Malfoy is rather fond of you. Depending on how useful he is to me in the meantime, he may be able to decide what happens to you. Of course, once you bring me Potter, I'll really have no use for you."
He had returned his attention to his fingernails. Hermione fiddled with the hem of her skirt, her mind flying.
Ron was already dead. Harry was going to die.
She furiously attempted to block the memories of the past six years that were flowing unbidden into her mind. A small "pop" stirred her from her reverie, and she looked up to find Draco kneeling before his master.
Voldemort muttered something she couldn't decipher, and Draco stood, approached her chair and held out his hand. "Come, Hermione."
She took his hand gingerly in hers and swayed shakily to her feet, allowing the guidance of Draco's strong arms to help her from the room.
***
Ron awoke to a very surly Madame Pomfrey pouring foul-tasting Pepperup Potion down his gullet. He was quite surprised when he didn't choke, and even more surprised at the scowl he received for his efforts.
"Honestly. Just a boy, and Albus sends you off to such a creature. I may be able to cure you, but I'd rather not if it will keep you here, where you're safe."
Ron winced as a brief shot of pain raced through his right side. He wanted to argue with her, but he found that he had neither the strength nor the energy to open his mouth. Instead he closed his eyes.
"Ron, I will not deny you your sleep right now, but I would like to hear from you as soon as you are able to speak with me."
He recognized the comforting tone and quiet voice of Dumbledore and opened his eyes. With a great amount of effort, he took a deep breath and opened his mouth.
"Vold…"
His speech was halted as another surge of pain racked his body. After another deep breath, he attempted speech again. "…has Hermione…"
Ron took several breaths and pushed on, ignoring the pain. "Wants to lure Harry."
Exhausted, he fell back against his pillow and closed his eyes, listening to Pomfrey's rushed reprimands as she bustled past Dumbledore to administer some more Pepperup Potion.
After she had doused his tongue with enough to permanently damage his taste buds, Ron felt well enough to speak again. He found that his headmaster was still waiting by his bedside.
"…never believed me…knew I was a spy… using me to get to Harry…"
Ron closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he opened them, Dumbledore's head was in his hands. When he finally lifted his face from his hands, there were glimmering remainders of tears on his cheeks.
"What have I done?"
Ron knew this question wasn't directed at him, but was nonetheless surprised when his headmaster stood from his seat and was gone.
***
Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the hot robes. She was going to be alone with Lucius. The thought was already making her uncomfortable. Even when there were other people in the room, even when Draco was holding her, if he was nearby she would feel his eyes on her. She always felt so cheap, like a tacky new adornment for his son. She felt as though he was constantly sizing her up, pricing her.
She had tried to talk to Draco about it, but things had come out all wrong and he'd ended up screaming at her about prostituting herself to his father.
He obviously didn't understand. It had nothing to do with that. But, unable to articulate it properly, she decided it was best to leave things be.
So now, here she was. Left behind with Lucius while the others Apparated and flooed to Surrey for a bit of a pow-wow with some Aurors.
He cleared his throat and she looked up to find him pouring himself a glass of scotch. Voldemort had fine taste in Muggle liquor. She scowled and wondered how much the Dark Lord would appreciate Lucius helping himself.
He smiled and raised his glass. "Would you like one, my dear?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I don't think Lord Voldemort would appreciate you depleting his stock in such a manner, my Lord."
Lucius quirked an eyebrow at her. "I'll thank you to remember that this is my study, not the Dark Lord's, milady."
She felt herself flush, but remained determined to not be embarrassed. "Well, then. Pour me one as well please."
Lucius' lip twitched into somewhat of a smile as he filled a second glass. He sauntered over to where she sat on the couch and presented her with her glass. She smiled and accepted and he took a seat next to her.
She shifted slightly away from him, images and fears of Lucius flowing unbidden into her mind.
He chuckled. "Now, now my dear. I'm certainly not going to ask you to commit any acts undignified for a proper lady."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "And I certainly wouldn't obey."
"Now, now Miss Granger. There's no need to be rude. I do think that Draco would want us to get along, now wouldn't he?"
Hermione stole a sidelong glance in his direction. To her surprise he appeared to be completely sincere. "Well, yes. Although I don't see how that is possible, what with your reputation for extreme bigotry towards people from non-wizarding families."
"You tell me this, as if Draco was not guilty of the same."
Hermione turned her full attention to Lucius. "You're nothing like Draco."
"How do you presume to know anything about me?"
She glanced down at her shoes and blushed. He was right. She didn't know anything about him. She just knew that she didn't like him, and she wanted to justify it in any way she could.
"Are you saying that you're not prejudiced against wizards and witches from Muggle families, then? What about Gryffindors? Are you saying that you don't care about my house or my parentage? That I'm as acceptable as a pureblood Slytherin witch?"
Lucius regarded her carefully for a while in silence. Finally, he downed the last of his scotch, and, setting the glass aside, he turned towards her again.
"I'm saying that you are good enough for Draco. I'm saying that, for right now, you are good enough to serve the Dark Lord's purpose. I'm saying that I'm trying to understand why, that I'm willing to make an exception if both my Lord and my son are."
Hermione swallowed and wilted slightly under his intense stare, averting her gaze.
"Oh."
Silence ensued again. She was beginning to accept it as the norm for the continuation of the night when he spoke again.
"Tell me, Miss Granger, is there any way in which you feel you may convince me that you are, in fact, worthy of my respect?"
She bit her lip and looked up to find Lucius a bit closer than he had been before. This did nothing to relax her.
"Erm… What, exactly, did you have in mind, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Please, call me Lucius. Mr. Malfoy makes me feel as though I'm some sodding shopkeeper or something."
Hermione smiled. "Alright, Lucius."
It was a rather fun name to say, in spite of the fact that it had, since second year, been eternally linked with such a nasty connotation in her mind.
"You must be quite… er… talented if Draco has shown so much interest in you. I've already heard tale of your academic success, of course."
Hermione swallowed nervously and nodded. "Yes, well… I do rather enjoy school. There's so much else to learn of course. I could spend my entire life studying, focusing on specialty after specialty… Such fascinating things… It's a pity we can't learn about everything."
Hermione bit her lip and flushed. She was sure she had been babbling. Lucius hadn't responded. She looked up and found that he was regarding her with somewhat of a smile. "Is that what led you to the Dark Arts, Hermione?"
Hermione nodded and glanced at her hands, which had been twiddling with the still-untouched glass of scotch. Resignedly, Hermione braced herself and raised the glass to her lips. She almost retched in dislike as the liquid hit her tongue, but as she forced it down her throat, she decided that she enjoyed the warmth it left behind in its wake.
Lucius laughed and Hermione found that it was a pleasant sound, not at all like the cold disdain his voice usually conveyed. She smiled and met his eyes. "Care to let me in on the joke?"
He shook his head in disbelief, gathered their glasses and stood, making his way over to the bottle of scotch and humming all the while.
"Could I - " Hermione blushed and dropped her voice, "erm… Never mind."
Lucius smiled and brought her the second glass of scotch she hadn't been able to ask for. As he handed her the glass, their fingertips touched. Hermione mumbled an apology and looked up to find him watching her, his steely blue eyes - Draco's steely blue eyes - focusing their intensity on her. It didn't make her as uncomfortable anymore. Now she felt… Worthy?
She swallowed, tore her gaze away, and tossed the contents of the glass down her throat.
It still warmed her, but she couldn't taste it as strongly.
***
Harry angrily flung another tee shirt into his bookbag. It wasn't as if he was stupid. Did they think he just wouldn't notice? That he wouldn't get it? It wasn't that hard to put two and two together.
Hermione had been seeing Draco Malfoy, Mr. Evil himself. They had broken up, and now she was missing.
Harry himself had been under a dark curse for the entirety of their relationship, incapacitating him from instilling any good sense into Hermione.
Ron had been studying Occlumency, disappeared for a night, and returned in such a state that he was still in the hospital wing three days later. Harry had been to see him. There was nothing obviously wrong with him, other than a certain amount of weakness and odd shudders that his body undertook every so often.
He knew exactly what had happened. Draco, in a fit of rage over his and Hermione's breakup, had abducted her and taken her directly to Voldemort. Ron had witnessed the abduction and followed them, only to be tortured with the Cruciatus Curse and narrowly escaped.
Now, the only thing plaguing Harry was why, exactly, nothing was being done to save Hermione. Surely Ron had told them. Dumbledore should know where she is, and he should have had her rescued. He could, at the very least, have told Harry what happened. But, on the contrary, no one seemed to give a goddamn whether Hermione was dead or alive.
Well, Harry did. Harry cared and he was going to rescue her. He was going to kill that fucking Malfoy… Hell, he'd kill Voldemort if he needed to. All that mattered was her.
He paused, packed bag slung over his shoulder and invisibility cloak in hand, on the threshold of his dormitory. He glanced back at his desk and briefly considered scribbling them a note.
No, he wouldn't leave a note. They would know. How could they not? Of course he was going to save her. That's what he was supposed to do.
First, he had to talk to Ron. It would definitely benefit him to find out where he was going before he left, although he was sure that Voldemort would be quick to find him should he wander out into the open streets of Hogsmeade in the middle of the night.
He didn't want to go in that way, though. This was going to be on his terms.
His thoughts were interrupted by a small voice.
"Harry?"
He turned to find a very flustered Ginny staring up at him, eyes threatening tears. He was reminded strongly of the Ginny he had known his second year here.
"What, Ginny?"
"I… I think I've… I did something wrong…"
"What happened? Is it Ron?"
She swallowed and paled slightly at the mention of Ron. She watched Harry for a few more minutes before averting her gaze to the floor.
She nodded slowly. "Yea, it's Ron. Should have been there."
Harry felt a wave of camaraderie with Ginny wash over him, so much so that it overpowered his sense that she wasn't being entirely truthful with him.
"It's alright, Gin. I'm going to fix everything. It's all going to be okay now."
Resolutely, Harry stepped out of the portrait hole, swung his invisibility cloak over his head and turned towards the hospital wing. He paused as he began mounting the second flight of steps.
Why not go directly to the source? Harry was sure that Draco was still here. After all, he would need to keep up appearances. With a newfound surge of anger and a determined glint in his eye, Harry turned around and began his descent into the dungeons of Hogwarts.
