Early October, probably

The Wrong Place

Hermione woke with a start. Her head ached and it felt as if she'd slept on a pile of rocks. Had she been out partying the night before? She didn't have any recollection of that, the last thing she could recall was meeting up with Narcissa at Gringotts, but clearly something must have happened for her to lose track like that.

She sat up and tried to look around to see if Severus was there. The room looked wrong, somehow. The bed was wrong, the darkness was wrong, the dimensions were wrong.

Slowly realisation dawned. This wasn't Spinner's End. This wasn't her bed, and Severus wasn't there. Panic started bubbling up in her chest. Closing her eyes she focused on her breathing, counting exhales. She made it to thirty-five before opening her eyes again, to the same darkness. Was she hurt? She wiggled her feet and hands but nothing appeared to be broken or hurting more than from sleeping uncomfortably. She was on a thin, lumpy mattress on a pallet in the corner of the room, with a scratchy woollen blanket and a lumpy pillow. There was nothing else in the room apart from a small basement window high up by the ceiling, lined with metal bars. Coarse wood planks made up the floor and ceiling and the walls were also panelled, dirty and scuffed in places. The window let in a bit of light, letting her know it was daytime, but she wasn't able to see anything through it other than the thick stone walls of the building.

Her wand was missing.

"Accio Hermione's wand!"

It didn't help, as expected, even when she focused as hard as she could on her magic. She was quite obviously a prisoner. Who had taken her, and where was she? What was she supposed to do now?

Just in case, she tried the door. It didn't budge. She sank down on the cot again, trying to recall who had caught her.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

An elf appeared with a pop an indeterminate time later. It startled when Hermione squeaked in surprise. "Oh! Miss is awake. Bubbly mustn't speak to Miss Prisoner."

Hermione couldn't tell if it was male or female. It was dressed in what looked like an old burlap sack, with holes cut out for hands and head. A frayed cord tied around its waist served as a belt.

The elf looked at her furtively while it straightened up the cot and deposited a plate of what appeared to be some kind of stew with potatoes on an upended wooden box. A jug of water was also deposited on the box, and a wooden pail with a roll of toilet paper in the far corner. Before Hermione could say something the elf disappeared again with a pop. To her surprise the stew was quite good, not at all what she'd expect as prison fare.

The day dragged on. She worried about Severus, about everyone else. Would he think she'd abandoned him? The second problem was of course what she could do if someone did show up to interrogate her. She'd definitely neglected her Occlumency over the past few months, focusing on Severus, the war, her NEWTs, the Order and Severus in no particular order, and that might now prove to be a fatal mistake not just for her. Taking a deep breath she tried to clear her mind again, engulfing her worry and thoughts of Severus in fog. It felt faint and weak, as if the faintest hint of sunlight would lay it all bare. She'd used air as an Occlumency medium previously, but her current state of mind wasn't strong enough to make it work.

Darkness fell gradually. She'd managed to work up a good headache, trying to settle on a mental image that could hide all the things she needed to keep safe. She'd used a generic windswept moor previously, based on some of the hikes she'd done with her parents and also during the year with Harry and Ron, but it felt a bit too unprotected for all the things she needed to hide.

Stomach grumbling, she fell asleep on the cot. At least the elf had provided a blanket too.

The next day was more of the same. When she woke up there was a plate of ham sandwiches deposited on the makeshift table, and fresh water in the jug. At least she considered it a good sign that whoever had captured her had left orders with the elf to keep her alive. Wonder if they could be persuaded to let me shower, she thought before discarding that idea. The odds were not likely on her side, not without a huge amount of luck.

The elf appeared again later in the day. She'd once again worked up a headache after spending too long trying to disperse and hide significant memories in her mental landscape.

"Where am I?"

"Must not talk to Miss Prisoner!" The elf immediately started bashing its own head with a wooden spoon tucked handily in the belt.

"Sorry, sorry! You don't have to talk to me. In fact, I didn't hear anything at all. Nothing."

At least the bashing stopped. The elf flapped its ears almost completely over its face and then peeked out slowly behind them.

"Miss Prisoner didn't hear Bubbly?"

Bubbly's eyes widened when realisation dawned that Bubbly had just asked a direct question.

"No! I heard nothing. In fact, I'm just talking to myself here." Hermione tried to sound convincing while staring at the door, avoiding the elf's eyes.

The elf flapped its ears again, snorted and disappeared with a pop.

She tried again the next day. There was nothing else to do, after all, save fretting and missing Severus and practising Occlumency on her own. She tried some wandless magic too but only managed to make the corner of her blanket flutter, unless it was just a gust of wind. It was much more difficult than she thought.

"Hermione wonders what day it is."

"Bubbly must not talk to Miss Prisoner!" the elf snapped again.

Hermione looked around the room, theatrically. She did feel a bit silly when she lifted the mattress to peer under it before turning back to the elf. "I see no Miss Prisoner here. I'm Hermione. I was talking to myself. If someone happened to be listening, that's not my fault."

The elf crossed its spindly arms in front of it, glowering at her. "Bubbly thinks today is a Tuesday. Bubbly thinks Miss Prisoner is being sneaksy."

Hermione shook her head, looking anywhere but at the elf. "Miss Prisoner might be sneaky, but not Hermione. Hermione wonders whose house this is. Perhaps it belongs to Bubbly? Or perhaps it's Hermione's house. Hermione is not talking to Bubbly."

A bowl of stew was provided again, placed sloppily on the makeshift table. "Bubbly belongs to Master Bast and the house belongs to Master Bast. Bubbly used to belong to Mistress Druella, but Mistress died."

"Hermione thinks Bubbly is a good elf. This stew is very good." Hermione also tried her best to suppress the grin that threatened to break forth. The elf was surprisingly chatty once she had figured out the code. Druella must be Druella Black, married to Cygnus, and Bast was quite likely Rabastan. Lestrange. Not good news, but with a bit of luck at least Bellatrix would still be in Azkaban.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

She lost track of time. Days came and went with no one but the skittish elf for company. There was no sign of whoever had abducted her, no way for her to figure out why they had taken her. No way to contact anyone, or to figure out what was happening outside her makeshift cell.

Bubbly relaxed gradually and with careful statements Hermione managed to figure out she was the sole remaining elf, that they were in the dungeons in the basement of the Lestrange manor, but that the Master and the others were missing. She'd even started playing tic tac toe with the elf, using pebbles and straw to delineate the board.

One day Bubbly didn't show up at all, but food and water arrived at regular intervals. Hermione worried about her odd little friend, hoping she wasn't in trouble for some reason. The day dragged on, bleeding into the next without anything to mark its passing.

Some time later the following day heavy steps came thudding down the corridor outside and then the door slammed open. A dark-haired wizard poked his head inside the room, sniffed the air and winced, wrinkling his nose. The tip of his wand lit up with a Lumos, making Hermione blink and shield her eyes against the glare.

"You there. Come here."

Hermione rose carefully, a hand on the wall. Her muscles felt stiff and weak, another area she'd neglected during her imprisonment. Perhaps she should have set up a workout program, doing some kind of exercise to keep herself in shape. Her mother used to do Jane Fonda videos at home on weekends, always ambitiously starting a new one right after Christmas and forcing Hermione to join in if she was home. To Hermione's relief her mother's efforts usually petered out quickly, and by February the video would have joined the others on the back shelf. Nevertheless, she probably should have made some kind of effort.

"You're Snape's girl, aren't you. Think he's been looking for you?"

She pulled herself up to her full, still not very considerable, height. The lack of a recent shower didn't help much, either. "Why have you kept me prisoner? Release me at once!"

Rabastan — it must be him — leered at her. Up close it was easy to smell his stale beer breath. "I saw you in the Alley. You worked with those redhead twins to take down Bellatrix. I figured it was best if our Lord got to talk to you a bit, to see how much you know. Is Snape in on it too? You know that he's a Death Eater, right? One of the bad boys. He hasn't asked for you once, you know. Don't think he's missing you at all."

"I don't know what you mean, I was out shopping!"

She glared at him, staring him straight in the eyes. If she'd had a wand she might have attempted Legilimency but she was hardly an expert at it. It wouldn't do for him to notice the intrusion.

Rabastan looked at her critically again.

"Elf's been feeding you? Sodding bugger forgot to keep you clean though, you stink."

"Not my fault if you don't have a shower here. How long have you kept me here?" She folded her arms across her chest, not wanting to appear weak.

Rabastan scratched his beard. "Eh, not sure? Three weeks? I got held up at the Ministry, see, but they didn't have anything on me. Then the Dark Lord sent me abroad for some stupid reason and I nearly forgot about you here. Now, stop interrupting me. The Dark Lord is coming tomorrow to have a look at you. He's very interested in hearing about what you did to Bella. Where's that stupid elf? Bubbly!"

The elf appeared, eyes growing huge when she saw Rabastan with Hermione. "Master and Her… Miss Prisoner!"

"You haven't kept her clean," Lestrange snapped. "See to it, right now. Get her something to wear that isn't rags for tomorrow. And air this place out! It stinks."

The elf bowed low, almost hitting her head on the flagstone floor, as Rabastan turned on his heel and left. Hermione heard the lock click shut after him. Voldemort. She'd be taken to Voldemort, and she wasn't ready. She would never be ready.

"Bubbly?"

The elf promptly appeared again, looking around to see that they were alone. "Bubbly will prepare a bath for Miss Prisoner. Bubbly needs to make sure Miss Prisoner is pretty for Dark Lord."

Hermione bit her lip. This required tact, something she wasn't always great at. "Please Bubbly, what did Master order you? What are your orders?"

Bubbly looked up at her, tilting her head. She started ticking off orders on her fingers. "Bubbly is to keep Miss Prisoner clean, get clothes, air place. Bubbly is to keep Miss Prisoner alive and well for Master. Bubbly will prepare a bath for Miss Prisoner. Bubbly needs to make sure Miss Prisoner is pretty for Dark Lord."

"Bubbly, do you know where Miss Prisoner's wand is?"

The elf frowned. "Yes but Bubbly must not give wand to Miss Prisoner! Master took wand to his office. Bubbly has to iron her ears!" She gripped her ears and started twisting around, as if looking for the iron.

"No! Don't do that. Bubbly, please. I need your help so that the Dark Lord doesn't kill me. That would offend Master, wouldn't it? If Miss Prisoner died? Bubbly is a good elf, doing what Master wants."

Bubbly frowned, her ears flapping slowly back and forth. "Miss Prisoner would die? Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, biting her lip to stop herself from babbling.

The elf tilted her head, still frowning. "But why would Miss Prisoner need wand? Miss Prisoner can't escape."

She took a deep breath. Reality was slowly creeping in, that she was about to be interrogated by Lord Voldemort himself, that she'd be face to face with him in a very hostile situation without a wand, that Severus and her own safety depended on what she could make the elf do.

"I have memories in my head that the Dark Lord must not see. If he sees what's in my head he'll kill me, and my friends, and everyone I care about."

The elf inhaled sharply, making herself look taller and a lot more fierce. "Bubbly will help. If Miss Prisoner thinks of the things Dark Lord can't see, Bubbly will use elf magic to hides it."

Hermione was too surprised to do much more than nod feebly. At the elf's orders, Hermione sank down on the cot and tried to think of everything at once. The Horcruxes were the most important, but also everything related to Severus, to her networking with the Order and others, and of course her whole time-travelling past. The elf lay her spindly hands on Hermione's head. The pressure from her fingertips increased until it felt like they were boring a hole in Hermione's head, and what felt like a fog settled over the memories.

"Bubbly can removes it later, or it will goes away after one moon period. Miss Prisoner must stay safe! Bubbly saw all the things."

The elf backed up a bit, staring at Hermione. She flapped her ears in what appeared to be a formal elf greeting, and disappeared without a pop.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Sunday, Late October

Spinner's End

Two days after the raid on Cokeworth and subsequent punishment at Rowle House there was a knock on the door. Severus barely heard it down in the basement where he was directing Narcissa's elves in creating a suitable space for brewing, not until Crookshanks yowled at him to get upstairs and deal with it. He'd gone to bed too late, as usual, and had woken up too early the next day, also as usual. There was barely anything to eat left in the house, only a few stale crackers and a couple of tins of beans. Food wasn't relevant any more, not with her gone.

His oldest friend was outside, looking terrible. His clothes were rumpled as if he'd slept in them, he obviously hadn't shaved in days and his eyes had a haunted look to them, looking straight through Severus as if he was invisible.

"Reg?"

Severus took a step closer. Something was wrong, very wrong. "What did you do?"

One of his sleeves hung loose from his shoulder, with bloodstains all over the sleeve and side of his robes.

Regulus shrugged. It made the sleeve bounce in a rather unsettling way. "I'm leaving the country. I can't stay here. I have a Portkey out soon, just have to go check something. I… I got rid of the Mark, too bad the arm had to go. Not sure this will be enough, if the magic is still there."

Severus felt a cold chill run down his spine. If his friend was that desperate things weren't looking good. "Shit, Reg. Contact Vulchanov, at least, he's in Albania and on our side. I… I'll see if I can brew something. You haven't been to St Mungo's? If you go to the Muggle world you can send Muggle post here, the Death Eaters won't know. Hermione… she's still missing, she would know what to do."

Reg grimaced and raked his hand through his hair. "Not sure I can live as a Muggle but I'll try. Nothing else for it. I was thinking, can we duel? You can show him and my father that you beat me, or something. Gets them off my track and might be better for you too. I got a new wand, you can give them my old one. I have some other things to sort out today before I go."

Severus frowned. Reg was skittish and anxious, looking as if he'd burst into flames any second. He seemed tense, with a thousand things to sort and too little time. A mock duel might win them time, though.

"What about that wife of yours?"

Reg shrugged. "I told her to get back to Ireland. I think she wants to go with me but it would be even more difficult to hide if I bring her along. I want her safe, I couldn't bear to lose her too. She's… we get along fine, actually. I didn't think we would, but she's good to me. I'm sorry Hermione is still missing."

Severus nodded. If it had been Hermione and him, there would have been no way to leave her behind. She'd have tracked him down and strangled him for trying before he made it across the Channel, even. However, trying to lay low in the Muggle world with a Pure-blood wife wouldn't be easy, either. Reg would have enough trouble blending in, especially one-armed. He'd stick out like a sore thumb in Muggle society with his manners and his choice of clothes.

"Okay but what do you need help with? I really think you should head to Albania, I can try to send word to Vulchanov to meet you somewhere. They're looking for something that might be important, to stop… him."

A little bit of light returned to Reg's eyes and he focused on Severus as if seeing him for the first time. "You've got a plan to get us out of this mess? To stop him? Okay. Okay, I can do that. Now, defend yourself!" He puffed his chest out and took a duelling stance. "You're not my friend any longer, Snape!"

Severus scrambled to dive out of the way for the flashy Stunner Reg cast. The words had hurt, even if they weren't real. "For the Dark Lord!"

The duel was one of the oddest he'd ever done, with both of them aiming to miss and casting spells selected for their flashiness rather than for their ability to harm. In the end, Severus had yellow hair that stood straight up and an enlarged nose making it very difficult to see his feet. "Die!" he yelled and cast a harmless Plant-Growth spell which happened to have a green colour. Reg crumpled in a heap, as if he'd been hit by the Killing Curse.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, to seal the memory. "You alright?"

Reg grumbled as he rose to his feet. "Glad we weren't duelling for real. Can you dispel this?" He gestured at the garish fake wound on his chest that appeared to be bleeding quite badly, the robes all tattered and torn.

Severus first Finite'd the spell on his hair, nose and the one that had caused his left leg to turn into wood, before sorting out Regulus. The sitting room was also in disarray but most of the damage was easily fixed with a few flicks of his wand.

"Wait here." He didn't have much in the lab but at least a few pain potions and general healing potions. If he'd had more time he could whip something up for the amputated arm, but it would take too long to brew.

Severus handed the potions to Regulus who carefully stashed them in his robes.

"Thanks, Severus. You've been the best friend I've ever had, you know that?"

Severus frowned. The clump in his throat grew and his vision was threatening to get blurry. "See you later. Be careful, alright? Let me know how you're doing."

Reg nodded and caught him in a clumsy, one-armed hug. "You too."

With a pale, wan smile he was off. Severus bleakly went through the motions of reinforcing the wards on the door and went to put the kettle on, hoping this wasn't the last he'd seen of his friend. Something needed to be done, and soon.

After Regulus left he spent an hour or so to refine the memory, hiding some parts in the Pensieve and carefully masking all details that could give them away. In the end he was convinced Regulus had arrived to hurl insults at him, calling him a filthy Half-blood and saying Hermione clearly must have realised what a loser he was and left him. The duel looked a lot more vicious too, taking out parts of his bookshelf and the window facing the street, and leaving both of them wounded before Severus finished it off with a Killing curse. It felt real, all of it. Regulus was dead, Hermione had left him, and Severus was vibrating with anger over his friend's betrayal.

Taking another deep breath he pressed his wand to the Dark Mark, requesting an audience.

The Dark Lord was at Malfoy Manor this time, but none of the Malfoys were with him. Severus refrained from asking himself why the Dark Lord didn't have a place of his own, instead choosing to hold court at various Manors belonging to his most loyal subjects, almost like the kings of old going from place to place with their entourage. No, that thought had no place in his head. Only loyalty and violence could remain.

Luckily for him the Dark Lord was distracted by something else, making his perusal short and perfunctory. The Dark Lord laughed when Severus presented Regulus' wand, saying he finally was proving his worth to the Cause, and then dismissed him without further comments.

The fake memories almost felt more real than the true ones even after replacing them in his head from the Pensieve. He sank down in the armchair, staring blankly at nothing with a vicious headache feeling as if someone was hammering a big spike through his temple.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Unsure when

A Lestrange house, apparently

Unfortunately for Hermione, time didn't stop. The next day dawned, time passing unbearably slowly until later in the day when it suddenly must have sped up again.

Heavy footsteps in the corridor made her insides freeze. Rabastan Lestrange was back, throwing open the door to her cell and lighting the way with his wand. He'd cleaned himself up a bit, wearing a fresh set of robes and with his dark hair slicked back almost like a 1940's film star. He grunted at her to come along, holding the door open for her to go on ahead of him.

Bubbly had found a set of black robes from somewhere. Hermione had asked if they were from Bellatrix, not wanting anything to do with the crazy witch, but the elf had vehemently shaken her head and claimed they were from "other mistress", whoever that might be. She'd been given a bath, too, and Bubbly had washed her hair and carefully applied something which made it fall in lazy ringlets around her head rather than her usual frizzy mess. With a pair of simple black flats she felt almost human again, as if she hadn't lived in a dungeon cell for several weeks without ever seeing the sun or another human. Rabastan Lestrange didn't count.

He poked her in the back with his wand. Hermione took a deep breath and continued up the stairs, holding onto the rail for safety. Her legs were wobbly, unused to the exercise. She had to wait for him to unlock a heavy wooden door at the top of the stairs before continuing down a dark, barely lit corridor. It seemed as if they were in the servant area. Kitchen noises could be heard from a door left ajar to her right, along with rich smells of roast pork and something herbal. Another open door off to the side led to a storage cabinet, but Rabastan prodded at her to continue before she could see anything else.

The door at the end of the corridor led to a larger and more well-lit corridor. Rabastan prodded her to continue and guided her to a set of double doors which must have been beautiful once but now were clearly showing both age and neglect. He pushed open the doors and herded her inside, bowing low to the man who sat in a leather armchair by the fire.

"My Lord. I have brought the girl."

The man merely raised a hand causing Rabastan to swiftly leave the room, still bowing. A flick of his fingers caused the lights to flare up, illuminating him. She was left standing in front of the fireplace, beside the chair. The heat from the fire warmed her arm.

The Dark Lord was a lot more handsome than Hermione had expected. He wore understated but expensive-looking robes in charcoal grey, silver and blue, with a high collar reminding Hermione of the old Dracula films she used to watch with her dad. No, best not to think about fathers, or vampires, or tellies. She pulled her mental shields up tighter, filling her whole mind with a dense fog. Bubbly's Elf treatment felt strange in her mind, making most of her memories slippery and insubstantial.

He merely studied her without saying anything. Hermione pushed the fear down, not quite meeting his gaze but not looking down either. She didn't want to show fear in front of him and had decided to try to emulate some kind of mixture of Luna Lovegood and Lavender Brown instead, aiming for a slightly air-headed mindfulness. The combination made her brain freeze up in confusion but it was a better option than her own propensity to think too far ahead, in plans and what-ifs and what-abouts. She needed to protect Severus, whatever it took. Luna would have thought he might look better with earrings, perhaps something with radishes. Lavender would have wondered what hair treatment he used and if he'd tried the latest Sleekeazy's formula.

The silence stretched, but to her surprise she didn't find it uncomfortable. Not even with him in the room. Three weeks in isolation made it easier to cope with silence, she assumed. She shifted on her feet, not used to standing up for long.

He tilted his head and steepled his hands in front of his chin. The fire reflected in his eyes. He had long elegant hands, Hermione noted against her will.

"Severus hasn't mentioned you're missing," the Dark Lord commented. "Are you sure he still cares about you?"

Hermione shrugged. "To be honest, I have no idea, my Lord. I had hoped you could clear up this misunderstanding so that I could leave soon. I have work and things to do, I can't stay here much longer, not that their hospitality is lacking."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I had word from Rabastan. You were in the Alley, were you not? Isn't it because of you my best ally is behind bars in Azkaban?"

She blinked, aiming for her best Lovegood impression, smiling vaguely at him as if she had no idea what he was talking about. She couldn't see any invisible creatures, at least.

"Bellatrix Black, obviously." The Dark Lord spoke extra clearly, as if to someone who was a bit hard of hearing. "You do know of her. You fought her in the Alley."

"Bellatrix? Yes I duelled her." Hermione tried her best to sound bored, as if it wasn't a big deal. Perhaps, with some luck, he'd buy this explanation although it was a long shot.

He leaned forward a little in the chair. "But why? Surely you know who she is?"

Hermione shrugged and looked away, over his shoulder. The windows were dark, reflections from the lights and fireplace making it impossible to see anything outside.

"She's always been jealous of me. I think it was because Severus wouldn't look at her, he preferred me instead. When I saw her in the Alley I just couldn't resist. Besides, they were trying to destroy Ollivander's shop and I don't think that was very nice of them."

The Dark Lord laughed. "So it was just a petty girl fight that cost me my brightest follower? I can almost respect that, Hermione."

She shivered. Her name shouldn't sound so alluring in his voice. The fire crackled and snapped but she barely felt the heat from the flames, all her focus on the wizard in front of her.

He fell silent again. A glass of Firewhisky materialised when he held out his hand, and he took a sip.

"I wonder, what do you think of Regulus Black?"

She bit her lip, trying to figure out what he was after. "Regulus? I barely know him, he was a friend of Severus'. I met him a couple of times but we're not close."

The Dark Lord rose from his chair, the tumbler Vanished with a flick of his fingers. He was tall, Hermione noted. Taller than Severus, and more solidly built although still lean. His magic buzzed around him like an ominous cloud, so powerful it was almost visible, slick and oily where it touched her skin.

He came closer, his nose barely inches from hers, staring into her eyes. She couldn't move. The grip he had on the front of her dress together with the sheer force of his magic held her frozen in place, staring back at him. She'd twisted somehow so that her back was to the fireplace, but her front was equally heated from his presence.

She could feel his presence in her mind, going wherever he liked. Her own shields were blown away like dandelion seeds in a storm and only the elf's foreign magic stood between her secrets and certain defeat. She could feel him looking for interactions with Severus but only finding mundane scenes of the two of them at Spinner's End, of reading and eating together and even a quick glimpse of the two of them in bed. He then turned his focus elsewhere, finding a different strand to pull. They met with Regulus in a pub, then another, the Avery ball and the Shafiq summer ball where Orion had confronted them. Then from somewhere unknown came a glimpse of Skeeter when they had met for the first raid, the platinum blonde hair and distinctive glasses instantly recognisable. She tried to divert him with all she had, to push him towards safer topics but there was nothing she could do. Nothing was safe but at least so far he hadn't found the whole Prophecy.

He caught that strand of thought too, of course, and managed to latch onto her at the Hog's Head. With immense focus she managed to use the vacuum technique she had practised earlier, sucking him out of the memory and letting it fade away to nothingness.

"Who taught you Occlumency, girl? You shouldn't be able to hide your thoughts from me." He pulled out, frowning at her.

Hermione shrugged, boldly aiming for Luna Lovegood again and staring at him with a slightly bemused expression. "I think I'm a natural, my Lord. Were you trying to read my thoughts?" Everything was spinning, both the room and all the memories the Dark Lord had disturbed. There was nothing she could do about what he had seen, or not, it was all out of her hands. She blinked against the light, trying to ward off the impending headache.

He snorted and took a step back. "Brave, you are. Or exceedingly dumb, but then Severus wouldn't bother with you. I did see a few things in your mind. You've been using him, haven't you. Trying to get into proper society while the poor boy is infatuated with you."

Over his shoulder Hermione saw a witch appear in the doorway and freeze, gaping at Hermione. Rhea? Was it really her, from Hogwarts?

"You know the prophecy, don't you." It wasn't even a question. He was looking at her calmly. "Severus might have told you about it but I think you were there. I saw hints of you at the Hog's Head, sneaking up to listen to that fool Dumbledore."

There was no way to bluff her way out, he already knew. Perhaps it would be for the best? To give him something to focus on, appearing to cooperate? Or was she dooming them all?

"Yes."

"And you know of whom it speaks."

"Yes."

The Dark Lord traced his lower lip with a slender finger. "Do you think Peter knows, too?"

Hermione nodded. "He was there, my Lord."

He almost smiled at her. "Of course he was. He told me about it. And you will tell me whom the prophecy relates to."

She closed her eyes. "James Potter, Lily Evans." Her mind started chanting one sentence over and over again. Forgive me, Harry.

"Evans… Yes." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Wasn't that Severus' little friend? He was so infatuated with her, I know Bella told me. Do you think he still loves her? There is a certain poetic justice in you giving me her name now."

Chills raced down Hermione's spine and she hardly dared to breathe. She drove her nails hard into the back of her thumb, wishing for the pain to give her some clarity. It couldn't banish the pain in her heart, however.

The Dark Lord's gaze snapped to her and he smiled again. "I was planning to give you to Antonin to play with, perhaps, or Rabastan, considering you have a penchant for my Death Eaters already and Severus doesn't have need of you. However, that shall have to wait a while. Duty calls, my sweet. You have been most helpful so you will get to decide your own fate the next time we meet. Thank you for the names, you have been most helpful."

He sketched an elegant bow and kissed the back of her hand before letting go. Raising an eyebrow at her he took flight, disappearing through the window in a flash of black smoke.

Hermione staggered backwards to the chair the Dark Lord had recently vacated, and fell into it in a graceless heap. Sweat was beading on her temples and her pulse raced as if she'd just run around the whole Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. She was alive, though, and with a bit of luck she hadn't incriminated Severus or Regulus too badly. It was almost a relief when Rabastan came to take her down to the basement cell again, prodding at her with his wand to get her to walk faster.

Bubbly helped her out of the fancy dress and gave her back her clothes, now freshly laundered. The elf tilted her head, looking at Hermione with a frown.

"Bubbly helped? Miss Prisoner?"

"Thank you, Bubbly. You saved me."

Hermione sank down on the lumpy mattress, her headache threatening to pound a hole through her skull. She was still alive. At least she was still alive. Forgive me, Harry.