A/N: Ah, this chapter was such a hassle. I kept rewriting and rearranging parts, but I have finally found a form to it that I like! This part introduces a key part we've not yet seen, how Hermione was captured. The details are slowly starting to trickle out because it was needed to introduce a certain character first. There is one big change to the canon story here that deviates and it's that before Dumbledore's death Kingsley was made aware of Snapes real identity as a spy. You'll see why in this chapter that it was important to change :)
As always, warnings of course this is a torture chapter there is physical torture. My musical muse as well while writing this one was Swallow by Oomph, really feels like such a Dolohov perspective to this chapters event. Thank you as always for reading!
Chapter Twelve / Thorns In The Flesh
As the lights faded around her the rest of her senses flooded with the odorous rot of decay and the screams of the tortured and dying. With the weight of a solid sensation pressing around her eyes she realized they'd blinded her vision with a spell to keep her from seeing where they were taking her. When they dragged her feet roughly along the stairs she counted each one and each staircase, cataloging the knowledge for her future escape. If anything, it could alert her and Lucius of what routes to avoid to keep from entering main inhabited areas. Though she was sure Lucius knew well enough, she couldn't keep from a nagging worry the floor plans could be magically changed to thwart the escapes of those already familiar with the building, such as him. The thought lingered in her mind of how quick they were to turn on him and his family. If she hadn't gotten to know Draco and how he'd changed to help their side she'd have never believed Lucius capable of the changes he himself had already faced. The tide in the war was raging stronger than ever and the intel they'd already received within the order even before her capture was that more and more members of the death eater families were looking for ship for the death eaters was slowly sinking as the order took more and more of their strongholds and they knew what was coming. Like wild animals locked in the throes of starvation they always look for the best opportunity to eat their own. And so their strongholds gathered exhausted and rundown, leaving them scrambling like a king rat struggling and frantic, their tails knotting strongly together in the chaos and leaving them no escape but death. Be it from the hands of the order as they refuse to surrender, or from the hands of their beloved dark lord for displeasing him, the end always remains the same.
As they rounded the corner on what seemed to be the final staircase the screaming became drowned out with cheering and raucous jeering. A familiar voice licked at her ear, a warning she didn't expect beckoning her with a pleading tone.
"If you stay quiet they will play with you longer. If you scream immediately they will become bored. Be boring my sweet doll. Be boring and I can take you away from the feast without fuss. It can be just us."
Acid crawled up her throat at the choice between two evils, knowing not which could be worse. Was it the devil she knew or the devil she'd yet to dance with? In his own sick way, she knew Dolohov wouldn't kill her. He'd become too entangled in her and couldn't be detached unless she cut off his tail, but at least that could be on her own timing. Entering the dark lords court with no ability to even see who all was present and who all would take delight in her was an unknown danger. The burden wore heavy around her neck like a crown far too big for her head as she was dragged one last further step and thrown upon the ground like lamb to the slaughter. The wolves circled around her and made guttural sounds as they eyed her up for size. She could feel Dolohov's gaze burning holes into her backs as he tried not to make eye contact with the competition. She knew the dark lord had gifted her to him for capturing her when the others couldn't, but it seemed that gift was conditional and perhaps he wasn't in the same favor he used to be.
"Thank you for welcoming us with the presence of your little pet, Dolohov. You've been keeping her all to yourself lately, your brothers have been curious you know."
She didn't need her vision to know who the voice belonged to. Her face blanched recalling his snake-like slow taunting voice; already knowing the way his black and soulless eyes were likely now raking over her. Goosebumps spiked all over her body in worthless defense and she started to think that Dolohov's bargain was the only choice she really had if she wanted to survive this night. On cue, Dolohov cleared his throat behind her, allowing her to sense that he was standing closer to her than any of the others, making an indisputable stance on who she belonged to within the room.
"I don't prefer to share, I prefer to keep my pets as my pets and I don't bother with anyone else's. My apologies if that has caused any offense, my lord."
He knelt on one knee beside her and she could feel his hand brush against her and she wondered if it was an accident or if it was him desperately trying to maintain contact with her. Either way, she swallowed tightly and kept quiet knowing this was not the time for her to step out of line if she valued her life at all. The men surrounding them grumbled to themselves but none spoke out to make a serious issue of the matter. In-fighting in front of the dark lord simply for the chance to own someone of her blood status would earn them no points in favor with him. Though she did wonder how long Dolohov would be able to maintain his control over her if the dark lord even suspected how deeply attached he'd grown to her. Dolohov was meticulous though and almost no one ever heard or knew of their 'sessions' together. No one except Lucius. No one however was going to believe a disgraced death eater, let alone one that was no longer even human. She'd figured out well enough that it was part of Dolohov's game to put her beside him. While it deterred the other death eaters who were afraid of Lucius, it also was a point of embarrassment that someone else could hear everything. Ever the voyeur, the man didn't miss a beat to create the most disturbing situations to suit his perverse fantasies. She knew he must be even more possessive than she even knew if he was pressing to skip the voyeuristic acts likely to occur at the feast simply because he didn't want another man touching her. For once she was glad she'd hardly eaten because she wouldn't have been able to keep it down for this long if she had.
"You are…forgiven. But we do expect you both to stay for the evening to at least partake in the festivities. You wouldn't want to miss the fun, now would you?"
Menace was dripping from his words and there was an unquestionable double edged sword to his offer that hinged conditionally on if Dolohov would obey his request or not. Nothing was ever a real request for them, it was simply a cleverly worded command to test your loyalty. There was no way he could say no and as such he stood back to both feet and gave his compliance before grabbing Hermione by her matted shorn hair and dragging her to the side to stand at his feet. Biting back a cry with her teeth caused her bottom lip to bleed and the iron lolled across her tongue. Sucking down the blood she wondered what it must taste like for Lucius, what her blood must have tasted like on his tongue and down his throat. A shiver unfurled down her spine as she remembered him clinging to her and drinking from her perilously. She found herself missing him now that she was torn from his side so abruptly, without even a word to let him know she was being taken away or even knowing if he was okay. In the back of her mind she knew he was alive, or as alive as one like him could be, but hearing it from his own mouth was different. Drowning out the sounds of the debauchery around her she tried to remember the quiver of his deep voice when he talked to her in hush tones and the way his cold hands felt inside of her own. Madness seemed closer than it had ever been before but she kept reaching out to touch it with every chance like Narcissus staring at his own reflection, unable to look away from the temptation of ethereal beauty.
A booming cracking sound ripped her from her thoughts and she blindly tried to look around for a source to the noise. Darkness filled every inch of her sight despite every wordless attempt she made at magic. She cursed herself internally for not pushing Snape for private lessons the last time she'd seen him. She'd thought over it after observing him do it many times but every time lost the nerve to ask, assuming he'd simply make a snarky comment and deny her requests. It was then that she realized the phrase speak of the devil and he shall appear really was worth its salt.
"My Lord, I beg you to forgive me for my late arrival. I was delayed by the task you asked me to fulfill."
Snapes unmistakable voice reached her ears from across the room and her heart pounded in her chest. Several months before she'd gone missing she'd taken an oath over a secret that none of her friends were privy to knowing. A secret that had cost her the freedom that she had. The secret of just who Severus Snape really was to the order and a secret that only survived through her and Kingsley since Dumbledore's untimely, but premeditated passing. She'd spent months working with him to create high level potions that he was growing short on the ability to produce himself with the increasing attacks. Kingsley had badgered him into taking her on as an apprentice behind closed doors under the condition of an oath and though it was a rocky apprenticeship, she knew it had to have torn Snape to shreds when she was taken. He'd been upset from the moment Kingsley put her in the position she was put in even though he'd needed the help. Endless arguments of the necessity of sacrifice for the order abounded until he finally agreed. His agitation, though annoying, was justified and she understood as soon as she was taken why he was so insistent that she never venture out with him. Severus Snape was a bitter man, but he was a smart man and he knew the inevitable danger of her crossing too far into the line he straddled precariously with the death eaters.
"Your forgiveness depends upon your results, Severus. Have you any good news to tell me?"
His disdain was evident in his voice and she struggled to hold back knowing that every moment Snape set foot in front of the dark lord he was laying his life on the line. The oath tugged at her and she knew even if she was tortured, she could never betray his secret. She'd thought about asking Lucius vague questions about him every so often as she knew they were previously friends, but the oath always tugged a little at her heart when she thought about it. She didn't even know if Snape knew what had become of his friend when he fell from grace. Though their friendship from an outsider's view even seemed tenuous at best, they both always seemed to mirror each other in so many mannerisms. Both headstrong and foolishly loyal to a fault that would lead them both to destroy themselves for people they loved. Their self deprecations both wore on her soul as she had to stand by and watch the cycles keep repeating. When things finally settled, if she survived, and if they survived, she wanted so greatly to break them both from their chains. She was growing painfully calloused through seeing the toll the war waged on everyone around her. Those older and who had lived through it twice bore a wound that would likely never fully heal even if the war ended in favor of the light.
"Yes, my lord. Though you may wish to have this talk in a more private space. May I suggest we convene after the feast concludes?"
The dark lord clapped enthusiastically and approved of their meeting with much bravado. Hermione shuffled uneasily on her knees with being kept so far from the loop. She'd been so detached from the rest of the world for so long it was agonizing to hear only these small tidbits. Snapes footsteps steady and strong beat against the ground coming towards her direction and she tightened the muscles in her neck to keep from shamelessly trying to lift her head and gain his attention. Even just one thing out of line could cost them both their lives and she would not drag him down too when he was so important to the order. His step faltered just the tiniest bit when he passed her, though no one standing so high above would see it, she could hear it being so low to the ground. The unmistakable little drag of the heel as though he wanted to pivot and face her. Pivot and turn towards her and say something. He knew well enough the importance of duty over emotion however and so he kept moving forward towards the edges of the crowd.
He'd admitted to her once during their private meetings that the revels were some of the worst things he'd ever partaken in. With age, he was allotted much more freedom to not attend them, but as a youth there were no special privileges. Details were not given, but the haunting and vacant thousand yard stare in his eyes was enough to convey the sentiment of the horrors. It was the only thought that made her stifle her frustrations at not being able to see. Was that the reason that even Dolohov was still keeping her blind? Was his twisted obsession still so distorted that he was trying to protect her from the evils of these other men? Of course, he was too shortsighted to see his own evils that he committed against her. The abuser always does look past the things they do with rose coloured lenses. With the distant screams of each person being tortured she heard the cracking lash of a whip and dug her nails against the rough marble flooring. Dolohov's warning floated once more into her mind, reminding her that she didn't have much longer to make a choice on the matter. While still weighing the pros and cons of the impossible choice she found her time cut even shorter as the men were dismissed to the festivities and she found herself once more being dragged roughly alongside Dolohov's side like a dog.
A foul stench wafted over her and the croaking sobs of the broken pierced her ears but still onward she was dragged and she silently pleaded that Dolohov was taking them to the farthest corner possible. The floor was sticky beneath her palms and she slipped at one point coming nearly nose to nose with the floor only to be assaulted with the distinct rusty aroma of blood. Yet no time was given to react as Dolohov pulled her faster forward and she shoved all thoughts aside to drop the wall she needed mentally to hold onto her last shred of sanity. With her arms and knees aching and swollen they finally came to a stop and she felt the chill of the stony wall beside her on one side and Dolohov's damp sweaty leg on the other side. His bizarre protectiveness shielding her from anyone but him. The walls reverberated every sound, every raw scream, and every heartbreaking cry that surrounded them. Vision wasn't needed to be able to understand the implications of every sound and the torture that could soon await her. As a woman howled in agony a few feet from them she felt the magical electricity sizzle at the ends of her lashes with each crack of the lash. She knew she should have guessed already that it wasn't an ordinary muggle whip but instead something crafted from the dark arts. Their depravity knew no bounds and once more her nails scratched into the marble this time cracking her overgrown unkempt nail tips.
"How about you Dolohov? Fancy showing us how much your little pet pleases you?"
The unknown voice cheered from a few feet away in taunting jest and she felt Dolohov curl his fingers tight within her hair. The smallest of whimpers escaped her lips in surprise and with it Dolohov hoisted her up to her feet at his side.
"Remember what I told you, doll. Make this quick and I will give you a special treat tonight."
With no reference on where to go she allowed him to lead her forward once more and she felt her foot connect with something soft and warm after a few moments. It was then a slick icy hand grabbed her by the ankle causing her to yelp in fear.
"Please! Please help me!"
Desperate, the woman clawed at Hermione's ankle even as she was dragged away by one of the unseen men. As her cries faded into the distance the tender fresh scratches on Hermione's skin tingled and itched as though the woman's hand was still there clutching for help. She wondered if Snape was still there in the crowd watching the hideous affair unfold and if he'd seen this exact scene before just with changing players. A festering stage puppetered by madmen repeating the same awful plays every night with new victims just to see how different they screamed the lines. Clutching her hands and feeling the drying flaking blood under her nails she steadied herself once more before Dolohov pulled and encircled her hands inside of magical constraints on the wall. The realization that he'd actually placed them at the very front corner of the pit and centered for her to be walked to it first and foremost struck her, taking the wind from her lungs. Like a hangman walking the accused through the sidelines he was offering her up to be the next to go to the chopping block. Whether it was better to be first or last she wasn't sure she wanted to find out and so she pressed her feet flat against the ground feeling her arms strain through the height difference between the shackles and the floor. Pressing her clammy forehead against the wall she tensed and waited for the first blow. Suddenly, she felt her skin connect with the wall as her ragged threadbare shirt was torn from her body and she flushed in embarrassment. It was far from the first time she'd been left exposed to Dolohov's wandering eyes but it was mortifying to be exposed to an entire crowd of snakes and possibly her former professor. For the first time of the evening she was truly grateful she could not see. The men around her clamored and jeered at her as they egged on Dolohov to take the first strike and make it worth it. Every fiber in her being beseeched her to scream until her throat bleeds to end the torment as soon as it begins. And so she didn't know why it was that when the lash came down upon her skin, splitting it open, that she stayed as silent as the dead. Heat poured through her body at the shock but she couldn't make a sound, even with her mouth wide open scraping against the wall. She tried and tried to push out any vocalization she could conjure but nothing would come.
Her lack of response was read as indignation and as the crowd howled in amusement all around her the deranged man holding the whip relented his attempts to hold back his fury. The second lash came upon her so ferociously that she finally felt a scream seize and rattle her. Once it broke loose there was no more holding it back and with each persisting and brutal lash her body wailed in mourning of her own resolve. It was only once she drew slack and felt her knees give in that the torture stopped and the crowd grew bored. Dolohov's warning was ringing in her ears in ridicule. He was right no matter how much she wanted to discredit him and she would pay the price as always for her inborn need to defy. As Dolohov's hands untied her she felt his chapped lips pressing against her ear again as he was panting and breathing heavily against her cheek.
"That wasn't very smart of you, now was it? You've disobeyed me again and I don't think you understand how much that hurts me. If you're not going to listen I'm going to have to make you."
In contrast to his words however, he picked her up and carried her within his arms like a child. Her world started to fade at the edges of consciousness but she could make out him whispering his excuses to retire for the evening to his peers as he hurried off towards the dungeons once more. Briefly she wondered why he wasn't taking her to his private quarters as she expected but then she thought perhaps her cell was the punishment instead. Leaving her raw open wounds in the damp earthen floor would be enough to make anyone regret their actions. As he pounded down the stairs in agitation she reached out weakly to blindly feel for his face. Once she found the stubble on his unshaven chin she delicately attempted to caress his chin in a hesitant attempt to win back some favor from him. In this place mind games never ended even when you found yourself nearing death's doorstep and she knew to proceed with caution. At first he did not react but as he reached the bottom of the winding staircase he finally leaned into her grasp fully and nuzzled against her palm.
"I'm sorry doll, I don't want to do this but you've made me do it. Maybe you will learn to respect me once you understand what a real bad man is like."
His tone dripping in honey he twisted the proverbial knife deeper into her and after hearing the jangling of the cell door she felt herself thrown brusquely across the room and into the familiar sodden soil. A hiss whistled past her and she tried feebly to pull herself up but failed only to collapse face first into the dirt. The metal clanging of the cell door jolted her attention back upwards but her vision was still blinded and she breathed wearily into the ground, too tired to care.
"Once you've learned your lesson I will return for you."
Dolohov shouted to her from outside the cell and with his retreating presence she felt the weight on her eyes vanish. There was a moment of pure silence once his steps were far enough away and up the staircase and she finally relaxed all the muscles in her body despite feeling herself struggling to breathe through the dirt. For a gap in time it felt unending, the silence and the ebbing throbbing in her back that prickled in the cutting cool air being the only thing that mattered. No voices and no taunting and no men frothing at the mouths for her agony. Hell was on earth and she had been merely paraded through it for the joy of the devils. In the silence she thought she heard the voice of her angel beckoning her but her ears were still ringing with the cheers of the devils and the electric crack of the whip slicing her apart. It wasn't until deathly cold hands prodded at her wounds and brushed away clumps of the soil from them that she understood she wasn't hallucinating him.
"Lucius? Is that you? Why…are you in my cell?"