They apparated into a dungeon; cold, dark, damp… terrifying. In Hermione's state of undress, she was literally freezing. With a growing sense of horror, she realized that her body's reaction to the cold was entirely too visible through the sheer fabric draped over her breasts. Malfoy stopped her before her hands made it even halfway up to cover herself.
"Don't you dare," came his growl. Hermione started and stared at him with nothing but surprise and maybe a little fear. This was not any version of Draco Malfoy she had seen before. He looked powerful. His voice, his posture, his cold gaze all commanded respect. Hermione felt the pull of obedience somewhere in the pit of her stomach and, with a bout of nausea, came the realization that there was no compulsion involved. It was simply the way he carried himself.
Her nostrils flared in frustration, hands falling to her sides as his warnings from earlier played in her head like a broken record. Instead, she focused on her surroundings, taking in what she could.
It smelled like Death. It was not the odor of rotting corpses or the blood staining the stone floor that permeated the air, but the cloud of dark magic hanging low above her head with all of the intimidation of a guillotine. It was tangible and putrid.
The quiet pops of others apparating drew her attention next as she scanned for those she knew. Draco jerked his head towards the expanse of darkness before them and Hermione stepped forward wordlessly. Her bare feet protested the cold as she walked, half a step behind Malfoy. The dungeon was filling with Death Eaters. Each of them were accompanied by a witch or wizard in similar clothing to hers, their eyes all cast downwards. It was minutes before a flash of red hair caught her eye and she chased it desperately. There she found Ginny, wearing even less than Hermione; a silk shift that ended just below her arse. Dolohov was gripping her arm so hard that Hermione could see blood oozing from her skin under his nails. Her eye was blackened, her hair was stringy and greasy, she was covered in bruises, yet she was still fighting him tooth and nail.
"Ginny," Malfoy's sharp eyes darted to her. The warning there was clear, she just ignored it. "Ginny!"
The girl's head whipped around and searched for the source of Hermione's voice.
"Hermione!" Hermione darted forward and Ginny attempted the same, only to be wrenched to a stop by Dolohov's grip. She whirled around, catching him across the face with a strong right hook, using his momentary surprise to run towards her. They gripped each other as they collided and sobs rose in Hermione's throat.
"Are you alright? Oh, of course you're not. I'm so sorry, Gin. So sorry." Hermione babbled, hands fluttering uselessly around the damage to her friend's body.
"I'm fine, 'Mione. Are you? What has the cockroach done?" her voice was dangerous and threatening and Hermione couldn't help the flood of affection. She felt Malfoy's presence growing closer but before she could even really acknowledge it, Ginny was being forced away with a yelp and a hand was fisted in Hermione's hair, sending fiery pain through her scalp, head and neck. She cried out as she clawed at the hand twisted into her hair and suddenly there was a mouth at her ear, breathing that putrid Death all over her face. It was not Malfoy.
When he spoke she smelled spearmint and apples. When Dolohov spoke, there was nothing but darkness and rot. Hermione yelped as the man's tongue dragged firmly up her neck and the side of her face.
"You should have been mine, Mudblood. Oh, the fun we would have had," he hissed. She shuddered and turned her panicked eyes to Ginny who just looked as though she would soon combust with the fury rising inside of her. Hermione's neck was twisted at such an odd angle with his grip on her hair and her toes were starting to slip on the floor.
"I warned you, girl. Did I not?" he hissed at Ginny. Hermione heard the force with which Ginny spat directly in his face. Her feet were scrambling for purchase on the slick floor and she swore she could hear her hair ripping.
"Incarcerous," she braced as the curse reached her ears but instead, the grip on her scalp disappeared and she collapsed to the ground in a heap. Malfoy was marching towards them, face white with fury as the Death Eater writhed on the floor. "You do not touch what is mine, Dolohov." he growled, crouching down and brushing nonexistent dust from his pant-leg.
Ginny skittered forward and helped Hermione to her feet, carefully inspecting her hairline.
"Was I not clear?" Malfoy was saying. Hermione brushed Ginny's hands off and gave her a small, reassuring smile that she was sure was entirely unconvincing. "Touch her again," he began, pressing his wand into the hollow of Dolohov's throat, "and I will not be so benevolent." his wand twitched, a thin line of blood bloomed across the man's neck and the binds fell away. "Return to your Master, Weasley." Malfoy warned, eyes trained firmly on Hermione. Ginny scowled but obeyed, throwing another concerned glance in Hermione's direction.
Malfoy's long fingers gripped Hermione's chin hard, fingers cold and callused. He turned her head from side to side, looking for any damage.
"Are you injured?"
"No," she mumbled. Hope blossomed in her chest for a moment as she wondered if maybe he had some shred of humanity left - but then his eyes shuttered and he exhaled harshly.
"The Dark Lord would be most displeased if you were."
Hermione nodded.
"Come," he released her chin and spun sharply, continuing on their original path with Hermione just behind him.
Her face felt as if it had been burned, branded, something.
They entered into some antechamber where the smell of waste, death and Dark Magic threatened to choke her out entirely. She coughed and tried to squint through the haze.
'Your eyes will adjust,' She flinched at the intrusion of Malfoy's voice in her head. 'Your lungs as well. Breathe through your mouth, if you must.' She did. 'You are not to go to Potter. You are not to speak. You are to stay by my side and not utter a word unless spoken to.' Her spine ached and she nodded.
Her yelp of fear died in her throat under the compulsion, even as Nagini slithered past her bare ankle. She saw Ginny and Dolohov, Neville and Bellatrix, Luna and the Carrows. Her friends all looked much worse off than she herself did. It made her nauseous.
Dementors floated above them, though they posed little to no threat. There was hardly any happiness to feed on at all. A body hung suspended in mid-air, emitting quiet whimpers periodically, body so mangled and beaten that she couldn't identify it.
Then, if she had thought it was cold before, it was nothing compared to the icy gusts of air that swept into the room, preceding a handful of masked Death Eaters, then Voldemort himself.
Twirled around his long, bony fingers was a gold chain to which Harry Potter was tethered, stumbling along behind the Dark Lord, struggling to keep his feet beneath him.
Hermione's lips formed her friend's name but the words died in her throat.
"Harry!" came Ginny's scream. "Harry!" Hermione watched terrified, and forced into silence, as Harry's head whipped in her direction, his eyes alighting with something unidentifiable. He lurched, pulling hard at his chains in a way that had to be painful. Ginny thrashed in Dolohov's grip and, briefly, Hermione wondered why Dolohov didn't just compel her - until Hermione saw the vaguely pleasured grin curving the wizard's mouth. He was enjoying it. He was enjoying her fight and Hermione was reminded of Nott asking to switch, no doubt bored of his submissive Ravenclaw. Malfoy's hand closed around her wrist in a bruising grip, moments before Dolohov backhanded Ginny across the face, sending her sprawling across the stone floor. Her gauzy shift slid upwards as she skidded along the ground, baring her naked arse to all of the men in the room. They leered and cackled and Hermione worked to wrench her arm free, prying at the death grip.
'Be still,' Malfoy's voice snapped in her mind.
Ginny didn't make a sound as she rolled stiffly onto her back, staring up at Dolohov with murder in her eyes. Harry's voice was going hoarse with the force of the rageful screams and litany of curses he hurled in every direction. Voldemort was cackling as though it was all a mildly amusing show - until he raised a single hand and the entire room fell silent.
Ginny lay panting, still on her back before rolling to her hands and knees and staggering to her feet. She leveled Voldemort with the most hateful look Hermione had ever seen. Voldemort's smirk dimmed until it fell away. His nostrils wrinkled and his sniff echoed in the silence of the antechamber.
"Ohh," he whispered. "How nice," he hissed out the last syllable. "Does he know?" Hermione watched the color drain from Ginny's face instantaneously. Voldemort glided forward, tugging Harry along behind him. Ginny's terror filled eyes flew frantically to Hermione and then to Harry, and back to Voldemort. The Dark Lord's hand twisted backwards at an unnatural angle as he drew the tip of his wand along Ginny's lower belly.
No. Everything inside Hermione cried out in protest and she longed to throw herself between her best friend and her Master's Lord, but the compulsion and hold on her arm forbade it.
Her redheaded best friend pulled her hands up to cover her belly protectively as if that would do anything. Harry's eyes were wide and glistening with unshed tears as he stared unwaveringly at Ginny. She nodded almost imperceptibly and Hermione watched Harry's heart crumble before her very eyes. Voldemort gave a sharp tug on the leash and Harry fell towards Ginny all too willingly. He clutched her face and kissed her desperately, whispering things that Hermione could not hear. Ginny was nodding and stroking Harry's cheek as soothingly as she could. Tears fell down Hermione's cheeks as she watched, nauseous and murderous and angry all at once. How could they have lost so horribly?
"The Weasley Girl is pregnant!" Voldemort's voice boomed and pounded painfully against Hermione's eardrums. Hearing it was much worse than inferring it. "With Harry Potter's child," he crooned. The Death Eaters in the room cackled, jeered and chanted; the chatter grew to an excited cacophony and Hermione was getting more and more nauseous. "Let us consider this the celebration of your impending arrival," he continued. If Hermione could move, she might have collapsed. "Accordingly, I have a game I would like to play. Miss Weasley, do you like games?" Ginny's chest was rising and falling rather violently and Harry reached for her arm, tugging her behind himself.
"Mister Malfoy," Voldemort called out. Hermione felt Malfoy stiffen beside her.
"My Lord," Lucius bowed low. Voldemort only scoffed.
"Not you, Lucius. Draco," he called out. Malfoy released Hermione's wrist as if it had burned him, and stepped forward with a bow of his head.
"At your service, My Lord."
"Bring the Mudblood." bile stung Hermione's throat.
"As you wish," her Master responded. 'Forward,' she moved.
"Don't touch her," Ginny shouted. Harry hushed her and Hermione found it almost laughable when a pang of hurt struck her in the chest. Priorities, Hermione.
"Goyle," Voldemort called. "Bring the Weasley boy."
Ron was led forward as well and Hermione's eyes went wide, mouth opening and closing like that of a fish as she fought against the compulsion to say something to her friends before her. The pain in her back grew stronger and pain twisted her features as she struggled.
"Release her, Draco." Voldemort drawled.
"Sir," he inclined his head by way of concession and with that, the compulsion snapped. The pain in her back disappeared and volume was given to her screams.
"-them go. Let them go!"
"Shut up, Hermione." Harry hissed. Both she and Ginny looked at him wide-eyed.
"You let my sister go," Ron warned. Hermione looked at him for the first time and flinched at the black and blue bruising across his face and the odd way his shoulder rested in it's socket. Voldemort only laughed.
"Here are the rules of the game, Harry Potter. Are you listening?" Harry looked murderous, standing there between Ginny and Voldemort, only a small scrap of fabric covering his groin.. "Draco here is in need of a bit of practice with the Cruciatus curse, aren't you, my boy?" Draco nodded, hands folded behind his back. "You may choose. The mother of your child or one of your closest friends. Your choice will determine who Young Mister Malfoy here uses for practice." Harry's face crumpled and his head bowed. Ginny stroked his arm for a moment before she was wrenched away from him and placed in a line with Hermione and Ron.
"No," He whispered. Hermione's eyes found Malfoy's, standing there cold and emotionless, waiting for his orders like a puppet.
'Help him, Malfoy. Please.' she thought as loudly as she could. The only sign that he heard her was the formation of a slight wrinkle in the corner of his left eye. 'I will do anything. I will give you anything.' His jaw clenched but otherwise, he didn't so much as flinch.
"Well, Harry? Who will it be?" Voldemort smiled as though he were a cat, playing with a mouse. "The girl who carries your child? The boy who has been loyal to you since the beginning? The girl who has become your sister? Decide, or I will have Draco Crucio them all."
Death Eaters were giggling around them.
"Harry," Hermione whispered. His agonized gaze flinched to meet hers. "It's okay. I understand. It's okay." she whispered, glancing side to side, from Ginny to Ron. Ginny, who had her hands curled protectively around her belly. Ron, who looked beat to hell. His love, his brother or her. "It's okay." he shook his head vehemently, silent tears tracking through the mud and blood on his face. "Me. He picks me." Hermione said loudly. Malfoy's nostrils flared briefly.
"Harry?" Voldemort's smile widened until his teeth were bared. Harry nodded once and then dropped to his knees, clutching at the stone beneath him. Ginny knelt beside him. "Very well. Draco, my boy."
"As you command, My Lord." he stepped forward, wand held delicately between his finger tips.
'Deep breath,' the words that pushed their way into her brain were not her own. They were quiet and with them, came what was almost a cooling sensation that curled around her mind. She obeyed, drew a shaky breath, met Harry's eyes with a reassuring almost-smile. Ron was standing in front of Harry and Ginny now, too preoccupied with glaring down Voldemort to spare her a glance.
Malfoy's face was impassive granite, giving away nothing.
And then-
"Crucio!"
-her body spasmed and contorted in odd ways before she dropped to the floor, head cracking against the stone. Every thought in her mind was forced out by the blinding pain.
Before, she had believed that she would never forget the pain of the cruciatus curse. It was burned into her brain. It haunted her nightmares. Most nights when she closed her eyes, she saw Bellatrix standing over her. But her memory and her imagination had nothing on the real thing. The pain that ripped through her blinded her. Her vision blacked out and the scream that tore from her chest shredded her throat on it's way out.
It was white hot pain that felt as though her skin was being flayed from her body with a dull blade. There was nothing and no one. Nothing existed save for the all-consuming pain. She thought people were yelling. Maybe laughing. She didn't know. It all sounded so far away and the only thing she could focus on was the pain and making it stop, stop, stop.
'It will be over soon.' the words sounded far away but closer than the others, and muffled and why did they make her head feel cold and stop, stop, stop. She was thrashing and flailing and writhing, trying anything to get away from the pain. It was unavoidable, it was inside her and it was tearing apart her nerves one by one.
Then it stopped, and she promptly went limp as blackness overtook her.