The baby had grown quite a bit since April. He was nearly five months old now with chubby little cheeks and tufts of bright blue hair, so completely, blissfully unaware of the war raging on in the real world. He loved Draco; babbling happily in his arms and drooling into the sleeve of his Death Eater robes. Blue hair flashed bright blonde and the boy giggled, spit bubbles and all as his little feet kicked out excitedly. Draco was staring down at him, seated on the piece of shit couch with his Aunt Andromeda across from him.
The older woman was waiting patiently for an answer that had yet to fill the tense silence.
"Draco?" She prompted. He felt pain grip his heart and twist when the baby continued to stare.
"I will figure out a solution." his voice was quiet and cracked.
"Dear," she sighed. "You've done quite enough. I will not allow an innocent to suffer in my place." she tilted her head, trying to catch her nephew's eyes.
"Yes you will." he snapped, eyes hardening and finally meeting hers. "You are all he has. I will not hand you to him on a silver platter just so that he might make an example of you." his voice was rising in volume and Teddy was looking less carefree now. "Do you know what he will do?" Teddy whined. "He will torture you, Aunt. Excessively. Mother is- well." he cleared his throat. "It is not an option. You will remain in hiding with Teddy. All I need is a strand of your hair. Willingly given or not, it makes no difference." Andromeda sighed, looking at him with such sadness and sympathy. "After all I have done to hide both of you from the Dark Lord, I will not risk your life for some misplaced sense of morality." He shifted then, adjusting Teddy in the crook of his arm before he stood and took one long step towards Andromeda with an open palm outstretched.
"You deserve more than this." Andromeda said quietly, thoughtfully, then reached up and sharply plucked a piece of hair from her temple, dropping it into his palm. Draco closed his fist around it and glanced down at the infant.
"No." he sighed, staring deep into the child's innocent eyes. "But he does."
The building was dim and smokey, darkness and pain practically weeping from the walls.
He could hear Blaise's lilting Italian from the foyer and entered the depths of Zabini Manor to find the dark-skinned man sprawled lazily in a chair with a cigarette held loosely between his fingers.
He was drawling on and on about his day to the poor woman strung up against the wall across from him.
"Anything useful?" Draco called, voice bouncing off the marble walls. Blaise hummed noncommittally, bringing the cigarette to his lips before producing one out of thin air and offering it to his friend.
"Non. Not exactly. She's quite stubborn, this one." He purred, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.
"Hm," Draco plucked the cigarette from his friend's fingers and lit it with a snap of his own.
One drag, two drag, hold.
Exhale.
He shrugged out of his Death Eater robes and began slowly rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt. The witch just hung there, smirking at Draco and Blaise without fear.
"How are you today, darling?" he stared up at her where she remained chained, finishing one sleeve, and moving on to the next.
"Actually going to get your hands dirty today, mate?" Blaise called out.
"Looks like it. Unless the lady has had a change of heart?"
One drag, two drag, exhale.
A slimy glob of saliva landed on the ground in front of him.
"Do try to keep the blood off the floors, mio amico." Draco threw a dry look over his shoulder and stepped closer to the woman.
"What did you do for the Dark Lord?"
She smirked and bared her teeth but kept silent.
"What was Karkaroff using you for?" Draco prodded. No reply. He sighed and drew his wand, flicking it sideways in a way that resulted in a thin line of blood down the length of her arm. She flinched but kept silent and he healed it a moment later.
The look he gave Blaise was the physical embodiment of are you happy?
Blaise nodded with a dopey grin.
They continued on like that. The questions remained the same and the extraction methods took on a more psychological theme as he instead began invading her mind and creating his own scenarios that terrified her to her very core until she was a snivelling mess on the wall, spewing answers faster than Draco could ask the questions.
The Russian woman was a scientist at Karkaroff's compound, helping develop the various spells and weapons used by the Dark Lord's army. She gave Draco details on every work in progress she'd help design. Everything imaginable from skin flaying curses to ones that burned you alive and turned your blood to acid.
They experimented on people - innocents, children too.
It made it all that much easier when he obliviated her completely until she was a drooling mess.
"My floor," Blaise whined, watching the puddle of saliva form below her. Draco threw him a sharp look.
"Call Theo. Tell him we're ready for him."
"Sir, yes sir." Blaise drawled and swung his legs around, dramatically rising from his chair.
The time in which they waited for Theo was spent with Draco systematically filling the mindless witch's head with Andromeda's memories and life. He copied each memory his aunt had been able to provide him with, twisting them here and there to ensure the real Andromeda and Teddy stayed safe and hidden.
By the time Theo arrived, the witch essentially had the mind of his Aunt Andromeda and all that remained was the potion bottle in Theo's fist.
"I don't like it." he snapped, staring at her and her teary eyes.
"She turned a First Year's blood to acid." Blaise deadpanned. Theo's nose wrinkled.
"Two wrongs do not make a right."
"Okay," Draco shrugged easily, slipping his wand into its sheath.
"Okay?" Theo's head cocked to the side. Disagreements were never that easily resolved but when Draco began scribbling on a sheet of parchment Theo knew it wasn't over. "What's this?" he asked when his best friend held the folded note out to him.
"The address. My Aunt and the Lupin boy are located here. If you'll go and fetch her for me we can turn this one loose right away." he face was flat and devoid of everything, even sarcasm. Theo's face reddened angrily. "Please do be sure to arrange some kind of care for the baby. I may not know much about children but I do know he's not quite old enough to be on his own." Theo scowled and ripped the paper out of Draco's hand, incinerating it with a passing thought.
"I hate this." he snarled, uncapping the potion and thrusting his hand towards Draco rather violently.
"Yes." That was Draco's only response as he dropped the strand of hair into Theo's palm.
And when he mixed it together with the potion he held, the liquid glowed darker than a regular polyjuice potion.
"You're putting quite a bit of faith in my brewing abilities." Theo snapped, voice breaking somewhere in the middle.
Draco's eyes softened, but barely.
"I have quite a bit of faith in your brewing abilities."
"How sweet," The eye roll was audible in Blaise's words.
"Go find something else to do." Draco growled. Blaise gasped and crushed out his cigarette.
"It's my house, you tosser."
Blaise evacuated when faced with the full force of Draco's glare until the two men were left alone with the babbling witch.
Theo was standing still, staring numbly at the woman who had essentially been rendered innocent. His hands were shaking faintly, the liquid inside sloshing back and forth.
It calmed slightly when Draco's cold fingers curled around his wrist, squeezing tight and easing the bottle from his grip with his free hand.
"If it doesn't work-"
"It will work."
Theo glared at him for his interruption.
"If it doesn't, he'll kill you."
"Yes." Draco conceded.
"And that will be my fault, Draco. Your death will be on my head. When he tortures this woman it will be on my head. I-"
Draco used the grip he had on the man's wrist to tug him in for a sharp hug, other arm winding around the back of his neck to hold him there when he fought it.
"It's on mine." he muttered. Theo stilled. "The wandmaker is not responsible for the crimes committed by the caster." When he released Theo, he gave him a half-assed upwards twitch of his mouth in place of a smile. "Go find Blaise. I'm going to finish this." Theo stared at him with a mess of emotions warring on his face before nodding and striding from the room, leaving Draco to administer the hopefully permanent acting polyjuice potion.
The Library was dark now and cast in candlelit shadows. The Weasley girl was sitting in a wing-backed chair while Granger stayed seated on the floor. Draco's mouth twisted into something distasteful as he realised what the witch was doing there, and then guilt joined the mix when he realised why she was eating her food off the floor.
"Stop," he addressed Granger, voice pitching lower. "I can have Pipsey bring a new plate." she nodded, eyes flitting down to the floor before she seemed to remember herself and met his gaze again. "Weaslette." he tipped his head in greeting.
"Ferret," She replied.
"My father is wandering about the Manor again. I think it best you return to your accommodations, yes?" If Weasley was confused, she didn't show it. "If she behaves, I may allow her to return to the Library after the Colosseum tomorrow so please be sure to remain in your quarters. The Mudblood has been instructed not to seek you out. I expect you will respect that."
"Use that word again and you can expect a fist to the face." she snarled.
"Ginny," Granger cautioned quietly, regarding Draco with questions in her eyes. Weasley looked back and forth between the two with a huff and started to push herself up out of the seat. Draco watched Granger scramble to her feet to help her up and with a final glare, Weasley was exiting the library.
The door shut behind her and Draco folded his arms behind his back.
"Was your day productive?" he asked, voice clipped.
"Was yours?" her eyes travelled the length of him, searching for the usual blood and injuries. He gave her a curt nod and glanced around the library before jerking his head in a way that meant she was to follow him.
She was still wearing her dress from breakfast, only it was late at night now and much colder.
They'd barely exited the library when Draco suddenly crowded her against the wall. It had been a bit since the Dark Lord had reviewed his memories and what with the upcoming impromptu visitation he wanted to be able to provide him with new material should the need arise.
That and that alone was the reason why he had Granger pushed up against the hallway, long fingers encircling her throat. Her breathing immediately quickened, even as it rasped, dragging through her tight airway.
It was her huge brown eyes staring up at him that almost sent him careening over some edge on which he hadn't realised he was standing. There was another moment of heavy eye contact before he was taking both of her fragile hips in hand and spinning her so that her front was crushed against the wall instead.
She yelped, eyes squeezing shut, but otherwise said nothing and there was something about rendering Granger speechless that did things to him. It was a schoolboy fantasy, one that they discussed in the dungeons after the classes in which Granger's incessant hand raising and question asking made everybody's palm twitch and so in the dark of the Slytherin Common Room they would list the various ways they'd imagined shutting her up.
Draco physically beat back those thoughts and inclined his head towards her until his mouth was brushing the junction of her shoulder and neck.
"Did you forget?" He hissed. She shuddered in his hands. "While you and Weasley were prattling on in the library." Draco elaborated. "Did you forget where you are? Who you belong to?" His thumb dug into the brand on her back and her whimper of pain travelled up his spine like lightning.
"No,"
"No, what?" he growled and when his teeth sunk into her skin as punishment, the sound she made felt like anything but.
"No sir," the words rushed out on an exhale. His tongue laved over the bite mark approvingly and she went pliant in his hold. It made him sick and the second bite was meant solely to keep his own nausea at bay. Her quiet cry reverberated through him and he used his grip on her hips to jerk her back against him.
She felt it - felt him. He knew she did because she stilled completely before she began to tremble slightly.
"You've just remembered, haven't you?" he snarled. She said nothing. "You've remembered that I can do whatever I'd like to you and that my limitations are… limited." the darkness in his voice washed over her, enveloping her along with him. "Does this game you play still seem like such a good idea?"
Game? Game. Goal… the board. Her thoughts were scattered and punctuated by the fear he could feel inside of her. Get it together.
Draco almost laughed at the hurricane of short little thoughts crashing into each other in her head but whatever cruel thing he may have said next, anything to push her away, immediately vanished when she rolled her hips back against his.
You want it. You want to give in. Even her thoughts were deliciously breathless. I know you do.
He scoffed derisively.
"Is that what you think?" Coldness wrapped around them. "Let's get one thing clear, shall we." One hand left her hip to reach up and tangle into her curls, pulling sharply enough to jerk her head back painfully so that Granger was staring up at him at an unpleasant angle. When Draco tried to jerk her back around to face him, his fingers instead ripped at the fabric of a piece of her dress, ripping it easily so that the sound of tearing silk permeated the silence. "I wouldn't fuck you with a ten foot pole, Mudblood."
And instead of the pain he expected to see welling in her eyes, it was sympathy.
Honestly, Malfoy? I wish for your sake that you still believed that.
The disgust inside of him mounted until he could shove her away so forcefully that she crashed into the wall, sliding down it until she sank to the floor.
Before she had time to process any of it, Draco reached for her and apparated them to the Dark Lord's dungeon.
Twenty-Three: We Are An ArmyHermione absolutely detested how familiar she had become with this dungeon. It was so horrifically bloodstained and absolutely wreaked of death…though most aspects of her life did now.
He hadn't told her that they were expected this evening as well and it seemed ages ago that she had dined with Death Eaters that morning.
There was no crowd this time though. Just Voldemort with Bellatrix on his lap, Nagini around his neck and Harry at his feet. Hermione gave her friend a meek smile and a little wave, holding her ripped dress to her body as she did. His tight lipped, slight little grin was more heartbreaking than the devastation on his face.
Malfoy
She projected her thoughts again, hoping it worked and watching his body language for confirmation that it had. His hand twitched.
What? His voice in her mind was tense and irritated.
Tell him she's okay. Please. He knows Occlumency too, he won't tell.
He didn't respond and before she could continue begging, Voldemort was speaking.
"You've found her?" Malfoy nodded his head once and Bellatrix squealed as Voldemort dug his nails into her side. "Already? Did you hear that, Bella?" he hissed and she nodded emphatically.
Malfoy's arms folded behind his back just as Blaise carted a screaming Andromeda Tonks into the centre of the room.
Hermione's heart dropped into the bottom of her stomach like a heavy stone, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her gasp was louder than seemed possible and her hand flung upwards to cover her mouth.
She was wrong. How could she have been so wrong?
It was laughable now, how certain she'd been that there was still good inside of him. And Teddy - what had Malfoy done to him?
She knew the moment that thought crossed Harry's mind as well when his shout of anguish ricocheted off every wall over and over again, mingling with Bellatrix's cackle and Andromeda's screaming.
The old woman was frail and completely terrified.
Blaise tossed her to the ground, watching her skid forward until she could roll to her hands and knees.
"Draco?" she breathed. "Draco, please." He didn't so much as look in her direction. "Bella, sister." Andromeda pleaded, reaching out a shaking hand for the woman.
"An-drom-ehhh-daaa." Bellatrix sang, giggling and staring up at Voldemort. "Are we going to play with her, my Lord?"
"No," he snapped. Bellatrix pouted. "You've lost that privilege, Bella. Maybe next time you will earn it back." She sniffed and cuddled into Voldemort's chest.
And Malfoy was so stiff it looked as though a small breeze would shatter him.
"What did you do, Malfoy?" Harry yelled. "Where's Teddy? Did you kill him too?" he thrashed violently, pulling at the chain around his neck until his finger tips bled. "You fucking coward!" Tears had rolled down Hermione's cheeks now, cutting through her freckles and glistening on her cheeks until they fell and splashed against a puddle of blood beside her feet.
She'd never taken herself as a stupid girl. She'd prided herself on being intelligent - it was the metric by which she judged her worth. And now, watching Malfoy feel absolutely nothing at sight of his aunt at Voldemort's mercy, she felt the last of what little self-worth remained crumble away.
"Draco," Voldemort waved his hand in a vague gesture and with a solemn nod, Malfoy drew his wand and moments later, Andromeda was screaming and contorting in odd ways while Voldemort watched and Bellatrix laughed. "This," he began, hissing, "is what happens to Blood Traitors. Those born with dirty blood and those who associate with them; they are the same." He bellowed over Andromeda's screams. Malfoy's knuckles were white around his wand. "They will be punished, and eventually? Eradicated." He raised his palm and the spell ceased immediately, Malfoy watching for his next instruction. Hermione's insides felt cold and frozen, her veins felt like ice with nothing but horror running through them. "Make an example of her, my boy." he ordered, then whispered something to Bellatrix who flitted off out of sight.
Malfoy said nothing. Coward. She hoped she was screaming it loud enough that it hurt.
Instead, he raised his wand and with some unknown spell, strung his aunt up above Voldemort's throne of bone and darkness. Her bleeding, broken body hung limply from various ropes, suspended in nothing while she sobbed hysterically, begging incoherently.
Hermione pressed her fingertips to her lips to quiet the sob that wrenched from her throat.
And then there was screaming; loud, gut wrenching, soul crushing screaming.
It came from Narcissa, who's chin was held firmly between Bellatrix's dirty nails, forcing her to stare unyieldingly at the body of her sister. There were no words, just ear piercing screams, louder than even Bellatrix's cackle.
"Cissy, Cissy, please!" Andromeda wailed. There was no response. The screaming seemed mechanical, reflexive.
Hermione looked at Malfoy again, waiting to see something, anything, the barest hint of remorse but there was only concrete and stone.
It was only then that she noticed Blaise on Malfoy's left. The way the Italian man's arms hung allowed his elbow to brush against Malfoy's and the wizard hadn't moved away from the contact. Hermione catalogued that too.
Narcissa finally collapsed and Malfoy's body lurched only to be stopped with a warning wave of Voldemort's hand.
"Now, Draco. Where is the child?"
Harry's chains chimed again.
"I have not yet found him. He was not with the Traitor when I found her." his chin lifted and only then did his arms shift.
"I was promised the Traitor and the half-blood infant, was I not?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Very well." He motioned Bellatrix forward and the woman damn-near growled as she grabbed Malfoy's face in her dirty hands and thrusted her tongue between his lips.
And then Hermione did vomit.
"Legilimens," Voldemort hissed, twisted his wand at an odd angle as he dove into Malfoy's mind. Malfoy went to one knee then, Bellatrix going with him as she ran her hands along her nephew's body, any and everywhere she could touch. "Enough," he said calmly when he'd gotten whatever information he wanted. Bellatrix pulled away, smirking at Malfoy who slowly picked himself up off the ground, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth. "Mark your mother."
Hermione watched the air leave him like it had all been suddenly sucked from the room. He wasn't breathing. His chest wasn't moving. Even his hair was still. Blaise had gone solemn beside his friend, face turned towards the ground.
"My Lord," the sentence started to leave his lips, only to be cut off by a guttural groan as Voldemort's Crucio twisted around him. "If I may-" he began again, jaw clenched tightly enough to break his teeth.
"You may not. It's high time she takes the Mark. Do it." he snapped impatiently and when Malfoy hesitated yet again, Voldemort Crucioed him a second time. Hermione was unsure what to make of the look on his face. She now doubted everything she'd originally believed to be true. He hit his knees again, holding eye contact with his Dark Lord while the curse gripped his body in its teeth. "Draco," his tone was one of threat and warning, "I will not kill her. Is that your hope? That my threat will be her death or your obedience?" he smirked. "You know better now, my boy." he purred, rising from his throne and making his way towards his Commander. "Do you believe me to be merciful?" Voldemort's hand stroked down the side of the man's pale face until he could grip his jaw, forcing his face upwards.
"No, my Lord." Malfoy responded, inhaling deeply when the curse released him.
"Smart boy." Voldemort's grin split his snake-like face in half before it vanished long enough for him to press his lips to Malfoy's forehead. "You will Mark her or she will join her sister." With that warning, one pale, inhuman finger pointed at the old witch wailing in pain on the wall.
"Yes, my Lord." he pushed himself up off the ground once again and approached his mother, looking for all the world like he'd rather run in the opposite direction.
Hermione stood rooted in place, watching him with some unidentifiable mess of emotions twisting violently in her chest.
He took her arm in hand and with yet another moment of hesitation, a whispered Morsmordre broke through the audible chaos in the room.
Narcissa screamed again, thrashing and trying to rip her arm from Malfoy's grasp as the Mark burned and burrowed itself into the delicate flesh of her pale forearm. Bellatrix held her still, gazing longingly at her nephew as he waited for the spell to end.
There was nothing on his face but the usual cold nothing and still, Hermione's lungs threatened to collapse around the despair that filled them.
For a moment, Narcissa looked almost lucid. In the absence of the fog, she reached out and pressed her palm to Draco's chest with an expression Hermione couldn't place. Then - the haze was back and Bellatrix was bustling the woman away from her son, leaving him frozen on the spot for a brief second.
"Will that be all my Lord?" he bowed slightly at the waist and with Voldemort's parting words and bullshit threats, Malfoy was dismissed, stalking from the dungeon on unsteady feet. Blaise followed immediately, gripping Hermione's elbow hard and tugging her along until the heavy metal doors clanged shut and Malfoy paused, hand pressed against the rock wall to steady himself.
"Can you do it?" Blaise muttered. Malfoy shook his head.
"Fuck, mate." Blaise rubbed a hand over his buzzed head and turned in a slow circle. "I'll go get Theo. Merda." He turned on Hermione suddenly, crowding her against the wall with a finger in her face. "Do not move. If you hurt him, or otherwise endanger him, I will gut you. Capisci?" Hermione nodded. "Fuck." he hissed again and squeezed Malfoy's shoulder for a moment before releasing him and disapparating on the spot.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked quietly, wondering if it were possible to strangle herself with how tightly she'd wrapped her arms around her body.
"I cannot apparate at the moment." His voice was strained, barely… but it was there. "Which means I cannot leave. Which means you cannot leave." He cut her off even as her mouth was opening to ask a question. "Blaise is not a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, meaning he cannot apparate in and out of Voldemort's lair with anybody, except for his own Enslaved."
"But Theodore can." she finished. Malfoy nodded once and they waited in silence, surrounded by the screams echoing their way down the hall.
Theodore Nott arrived with a crack, face and curls wild. He was on Malfoy immediately, quickly brushing his sweaty hair away so that he could touch his forehead.
"Shit," he sighed. Malfoy pushed his friend's hand away with a warning glare.
"Get her out of here." his hissed through gritted teeth. Theodore nodded and glanced at Hermione, reaching for her with a steady hand. She took it, relishing in his warmth. Where Malfoy was constantly freezing, Theodore was warm and seemed to thaw the coldest part of his friend.
"C'mon, mate." he wrapped a hand around Malfoy's bicep and promptly sucked them into a tornado before spitting them out in Malfoy manor.
Blaise was pacing the sitting room and Elodie sat timidly in the corner, wringing her hands together in her lap as she always seemed to be. Hermione was quickly forgotten when Malfoy's knees buckled, held up only by Theodore's grip. Blaise was quick to grab his other side, lowering him into a chair at the table. Malfoy gripped the edge of it, bending at the waist until his head hung between his knees.
"Go check on Pansy. I've got this." Theodore muttered. Blaise pursed his lips, looking back and forth between the two. "Thank you for staying with El. I've got this." he insisted. Blaise groaned and briefly squeezed Malfoy's shoulder before disapparating. "What happened?" he asked, trying to force Malfoy to look at him. His eyes were unfocused and his expression completely dazed.
Theodore's sharp brown eyes turned on Hermione when Malfoy failed to answer.
"Well?" But Hermione was too focused on the slightly shaking form of her captor in front of her. "Hermione," Theodore snapped impatiently. She flinched, turning her gaze on him. "What happened?"
"He-" and then it all came rushing back at once and Hermione's horror forced her a handful of steps away from them. Theodore pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled heavily.
"Today, Granger."
"He tortured Andr- Andromeda." the words caught in her throat. "Then Vol-" Theodore's warning hiss was terrifying. "Then he-" a vague wave of her hand "read his mind and Crucioed him twice and then he had to Mark Narcissa."
"Fuck me." he groaned. "Alright, mate."
The blond was dry heaving now, and Hermione suddenly realised where she had seen this before; she'd been babysitting her cousins one summer when the eldest had come screaming down the hall. Hermione found the younger of the two in a similar state to Malfoy and when emergency services had questioned the children, it became evident that she had essentially been poisoned by her mother's cleaning supplies. But he hadn't been poisoned, not that she had seen.
She was useless without her magic… completely and utterly useless, so she was left with little else to do save for watching Theodore cast various charms and diagnostics, all of which lit up with countless indications of distress, red lights spread across them all, interwoven with black veins and dark chasms where she knew other information should have been.
It was then that she realised he had been poisoned and his body was trying to expel the dark magic from itself.
"Hermione, just go to your room." Theodore said, distracted by the task at hand. She threw her hand up, scoffing exasperatedly.
"You seem to continuously forget that I cannot go anywhere in this Manor without an escort."
"Then sit down and be quiet." he snapped. Hermione's eyes narrowed and she walked closer to the two men.
"You seem to be a relatively reasonable person, Theodore. Do you honestly believe he doesn't deserve this?" she laughed and it sounded more than a little manic. "You weren't there. He tortured his aunt. Extensively. And her only crime was marrying a muggle born years ago. A little nausea is the least of what he has coming." Malfoy hadn't moved from his hunched over position and then suddenly Theodore was in her face, eyes blazing with furious anger.
"Watch your words carefully, witch." he growled. It was odd seeing Theodore as intimidating, brown eyes blazing with fierce protection. "You know nothing of which you speak and if you say anything like that again, I will make you regret it. Do you understand me?" she nodded and he quickly pushed away from her and went back to Malfoy's side.
The feelings in her stomach were twisting and turning like a living thing and with it, she sunk to the ground, curling her arms around her knees because she didn't know how to feel. She didn't like it. Draco Malfoy was not a good man. He was evil, and dark, and second in command to Voldemort himself, and she did not want to feel any sort of sympathy for him.
But when his eyes met hers and there was nothing but desperation and agony pooling inside of them she couldn't help but wonder what she was missing.
As they stood together in the Colosseum, Hermione could help but think that there had been far too much to happen in a forty-eight hour period.
Malfoy was looming behind her, watching the wizards and elves bustling around them. There was going to be yet another fight to the death and as she readied herself for the name that would be announced after hers, Malfoy leaned forward and spoke so that only she could hear him.
"You will not be fighting today." he said. Hermione stiffened and whirled to face him with wide brown eyes. "There is a special showing today, in celebration of the full moon." His tone was full of distaste and that alone was cause for anxiety.
"What does that mean?" she asked. With a jerk of his head he directed her attention to the pit in which a Werewolf had materialised. When her eyes landed back on Malfoy, the horror in them was so prominent she could practically taste it.
"No." she gasped. He only nodded in reply, in turn, leading her up to the box.
She couldn't make herself watch. Not as the werewolf tore apart child after child. The self preservation she employed required her to detach from the sight and instead focus on problem solving and deductive reasoning until she saw the pit without actually seeing it. It was empty; diagrams drawn in the sand that she attempted to decipher. This was one of the puzzle pieces she had yet to find a place for at all, or even a potential place for. Nothing she came up with explained how countless executions and the slaughter of others for sport fit into Voldemort's plan.
There had been enough bloodshed and unless they could stop the outcome, there would be plenty more.
It wasn't until a familiar voice began yelling that Hermione rejoined reality.
It was Ron, bolting across the pit, positioning himself between a girl and the werewolf. Hermione couldn't move. She didn't. She instead waited with bated breath, detached from it all as Gabrielle Delacroix screamed while Ron intercepted the predator.
There was cheering and yelling as the audience waited for the murder of Harry Potter's best friend. Only it never came because others poured onto the field, helping Ron destroy the creature before he went and enveloped the younger girl.
Anger poured off of Malfoy in waves and she wasn't sure where it came from but she couldn't be bothered to care because she was too intently focused on a spot in the dirt where the Werewolf had made contact with someone's flesh moments before he'd been killed.
The boy's blood was spilling out of his body in slow motion; spreading across the ground and soaking into the dirt like a living thing finding a new host. And as it soaked into the earth, Hermione found that puzzle piece's final resting place because it made sense now.
"He wants to perform a purification spell, the purpose of which is to purify the world of dirty blood. To do that, he needs blood."
That's what Malfoy had said. Those were his words.
"Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, blood of the enemy unwillingly taken."
Harry had recited the incantation in his sleep countless times in the years since the Triwizard Tournament. She knew it by heart now. And if Voldemort had needed Harry's blood and Pettigrew's arm to tamper with life for himself alone, it made sense that he would need so much more than that to wipe out an entire race. The fights were a method by which Voldemort gathered ingredients.
And the Colosseum was the cauldron.
