AN: Typically. Author Notes are saved for the end of the chapter. However with this one I felt a forward was more prudent…

This chapter contains topics and events that may be triggering for readers. I don't particularly enjoy reading torture scenes and I enjoy writing them less. This chapter will have less descriptions of gore than my last WWI podcast but, nevertheless, is a traumatic experience for characters. If this applies to you, please fast forward after the Section with Fred, George,and Ginny and resume reading for the boys in the cellar.

Reprives were given to two, not three. May my readership forgive me.

Chapter 49

Falling Evils

Hermione's heart was going too fast.

Their hands had been bound. The sword had been found and was now tucked under the arm of the same slow Snatcher. Their fake names—Vernon Dudley, Barney Weasley and Katie Bell— had backfired again. Greyback led the way as they emerged from the tree line and began stumbling towards the menacing shadow of Malfoy Manor.

Time felt like it was moving slowly. As though each second was dripped in a poisonous, sickly syrup meant to kill her. Her heart was a hummingbird's wings, her thoughts, her half assed escape plans just as fleeting. This had to happen. They had to get the Elder Wand. It was a mantra that offered little comfort as they walked through the gate, the gaze of moonlit peacocks staring through them, each foot step dipped in knowing dread.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, stumbling towards her so she could hear him. She looked at him. She couldn't see him or anything properly, the hex had swollen one of her eyes. But she could feel his words. He was sorry. He was so sorry. He was starting to think this was their end too. That despite everything they had done the last few months to survive, his bravado was finally what would have killed them.

And she couldn't afford for him to think like that. That would kill them.

"There's no time for that," she muttered, the large oak doors creaking as they opened up, "Remember what I said and get the wand. Use Sirius mirror and try calling for help. We're getting out of here."

I hope, she thought. Or perhaps that was a prayer. Would prayers help the second time around?

The entrance hall reminded her of Pemberley. Her mum and her had watched the Pride and Prejudice tapes three—two— summers ago. Maybe if she ever came back to the house she could tell herself that lie. That she wasn't returning to the house of her nightmares but she instead was touring Pemberley, looking for a room with a piano. She liked pianos. They had always been so calming. Did they have pianos in the Wizarding world? She couldn't remember. There hadn't been one at Hogwarts. They shuffled down the hall, Greyback leading the way with each powerful stride, tugging their rope closer and closer and she tried to remember the cords to one of her dad's pieces.

He had always liked Beethoven. How many times had she come home from school and he'd be playing Moonlight Sonata? Buh-duh-duh Buh-duh-duh...

A lifetime ago, when she had told Dumbledore she had traveled through time, he had taught her about occlumency. It was supposed to prepare her for this, for this moment where Bellatrix would try and read her mind and discover their secrets. She hadn't practiced like she ought to have. What a bloody hypocrite, she was glad Harry didn't know that detail.

What had Dumbledore said? Avoid eye contact and think of a memory that would summon a patronus? Beethoven won't be able to help you here.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lucius Malfoy spat, storming into the room. It was obvious he had been fetched from bed, wrapped in his emerald and silver dressing robes, sleep still being shaken from his perpetually tired eyes. Narcissa was right behind him. But she didn't have the traces of sleep. Something told Hermione she had given up on that luxury months ago.

"We found these kids in the woods, they broke the taboo," Greyback started, eyeing his prizes greedily.

"The dementors may have left Azkaban but it's to my understanding they still have cells there for miscreants and blood traitors alike," Lucius said, dismissing Greyback from the start. "There's more room for them on that godforsaken island then there is in my cellar Frenrir. Let the filth die on the island they'll just throw the bodies in the sea rather than darken Narcissa's rose garden" the door opened behind Lucius and Hermione could see the worn face of Draco illuminated in the moonlight. Like his mother, Draco looked like sleep was a luxury long since taken from him. He had looked bad the last time she saw him. He looked horrible now, more ghostlike than anyone else in the room. As though he longed to join the dead and escape from the halls he currently haunted.

Lucius turned at his son and back to Greyback, "Now that you've successfully woken my family, take them to the ministry and let them deal with it. I'm the master of this house, not their warden."

The wolf's face turned steely, the body standing up straighter as he walked towards the stairs in a mock bow. "Well then, Master of the House, shouldn't you look over the prisoners? The Master wouldn't want to overlook anything tell tale," he growled, reaching for Ron's red hair and lifting it up as he yelled in pain.

He made his point and threw Ron down to the floor, hair illuminated in the moonlight, crossing the room to Harry. "And if not tell tale, surely you'd be inspecting every trace or scar—"

The snatcher behind Harry yanked back his hair. Hermione struggled to stay composed, trying her best to keep her voice even. "He gashed his head in the woods months ago," she tried, " I didn't have enough dittany so it never healed right. There's a mark—"

The snatcher behind her yanked her head upwards, pointing his wand at her throat and growled in her ear, "it's not your turn to talk sweetie," his hand yanking her hair till tears formed in her eyes.

Her bluff hadn't been enough. She may not have said scar but Greyback had and that had been enough. Malfoy looked down at them know not as unwelcome guests but long desired salvation.

He practically skipped down the stairs while Narcissa, Hermione noted, had slowly came down the stairs to the midsection before the final landing, Draco adopting the characteristics of a statue as he grasped the hand rails and looked down at the scene below in masked horror.

"Could it be Potter?" Lucius asked to himself, his hand tracing the scar on his forehead, " What happened to him? Why does he look funny?" He turned and gave a glance to her and Ron as well, "They all look funny. How can we possibly Identify them if your men—"

"This wasn't us Mr Malfoy," said the Snatcher holding Hermione, twisting and pulling her hair while he did, "We think they did this to 'emselves after they broke the taboo. Trying to mask whose they are."

Lucius stepped back looking at his three prisoners. "Red hair, if he's not Potter's Weasley—" he turned up the stairs looking at his son. "Draco come down now," he barked.

Hermione noticed Draco's hand twitch and grab the balustrade tighter.

"What?" It was little more than a whisper and in that moment felt a pang of sympathy for the boy up the stairs.

Lucius didn't say anything but Hermione imagined the expression on his face was what called his son down. Narcissa faintly touched her sons shoulder as he passed her down the stairs.

Lucius put his arm around his son's shoulder and pushed him to the scene before him, where he hovered right in front of Harry's face. "Is this Potter?" Lucius asked, "we must be very sure. If we call him and it is Potter—all will be forgiven," he said his voice nearly cracking.

Malfoys eyes flicked away from Harry, " I'm—not sure," he muttered, "Can't tell with his face like that."

"But Draco these are his friends, aren't they? The Weasley boy and Mudblood Granger?"

Draco's eyes locked on Hermione and she saw the familiar blue. The piercing blue eyes that had hesitated in waving a wand against her that Christmas in Newcastle. She saw the same hesitation coming from Draco and knew he wasn't going to condemn her.

But he wasn't going to save her either.

How could he when he couldn't even save himself.

"Could be—but a lot of kids have run away from school," Draco tried, "Could be Granger, could be Susan Bones — she's a pure blood though."

Lucius took his son by the shoulders and squared him up in front of him. "But look at the scar, is that Harry Potter? Have we found him at last?"

"You'll be telling the Dark Lord who did the finding Malfoy," Greyback growled, "and it sure as hell wasn't you or your boy."

"You dare—"

"Course I dare," he snapped, "You might be in your house with your gold and your name but your days of Glory are gone. Dark Lord would already have killed him if I could have called—"

"Well that's one thing I have on you then," Lucius snarled, pulling his sleeve up to reveal the Dark Mark.

"What's going on Cissy," a voice sounded wearily from the top of the stairs, " Wormtail said we had company?"

Bellatrix now stood at the top of the stairs. While the rest of her family looked like they hadn't slept since the Ministry was taken, Bellatrix looked the picture of ease. Her face was fuller than the last time Hermione had seen her all those years ago. Perhaps being freed from Azkaban and living under her beloved's regime was calling back the beauty long since robbed her in prison. Her long black curls flowed down the black dressing gown she wore. The moonlight bathed her face and Hermione knew unless the boys figured it out like last time they were doomed.

"Ah!" She gave a girlish laugh looking down at the Snatcher party, " Has the Easter Bunny brought us Potter?" She practically skipped down the stairs, turning her head to Fenrir, "Good job recruiting more of your woodland friends, I hadn't realized the rabbits where on our side."

Greyback stood flabbergasted trying to place the insult. Bellatrix pat his shoulder and crossed the three of them, looking closely at Ron's hair and casting a look to Hermione.

"You must be sure, he's traveling tonight, he won't be happy if we call him for an imposter," Bellatrix said, her hand extended, a finger tracing the lighting bolt scar on Harry's head. Like Lucius she looked at the scar hungering for the chance to lift her sleeve and call her Master.

Suddenly an object behind her clanged violently on the floor. Were the saved? Did Dobby come early?

"Sorry Missus," The snatcher said, keeping one hand on Hermione while reaching out for the object that had fallen.

"What is that?" Bellatrix's voice changed. It was hard, full of malice and uncharacteristic for Bellatrix, fear. "Where did you get that?" She unsheathed her wand like a dagger and headed towards him.

"I found it in their tent!" The Snatcher cried out, darting behind Hermione using her as a shield. Bellatrix stared the man down, her sharp fingers cupping Hermione's shoulder, her nails digging in.

Think of something Happy. Waking up on Majorca. White walls, the sound of the ocean. Fred coming in with a breakfast tray—

"Did you now?" Whispered Bellatrix, keeping her eyes on him and her hand gripping Hermione, breaking skin.

"I did," the man repeated, feeling more sure of himself, "Figures it's mine now, never have a sword b'fore."

"Fool," laughed Bellatrix, reaching out and taking the sword with her hand. She brought it closer, letting going of Hermione to examine it with both hands, one holding while the other traced the name and the rubies on the blade.

"Well Bellatrix, shall we give the Dark Lord a sword as well as Potter?" Lucius asked, raising his arm.

His sister-in-law looked up with a face that told him she was considering using the sword on him. "No," she spat, "No we can't call him—-this is supposed to be in my vault—if they've been in there—" she looked from Harry to Hermione.

"You've been in my vault," she said her eyes black and her words violent.

"No," Hermione started, she was thinking of the pier in Majorca. Hoping she'd see that memory and not the vivid one of Griphook taking them to Gringotts, "We found it—"

She pulled out her personal dagger and separated Hermione's bonds from the boys pulling her towards the stairs, "I'm going to have a conversation with the Mudblood," she started, "Time for a little girl talk," she said with a fake laugh, "Put the prisoners in the cellar."

"'NO!" She heard Ron let out, "No, let me—"

Hermione heard the distinct sound of a Snatcher punching Ron in the stomach, his words vanishing in a wheeze. Bellatrix turned around, smiling at the scene, "If she dies under interrogation we'll call for you," she said calmly , "Mudblood come before Blood Traitors in my book."

There was scuffs and clatter filling the room as Harry and Ron were taken out. Hermione lifted her eyes to see them. Harry was still looking for her. He was trying to get her attention but she didn't know why. To tell her it would be ok? He didn't know that. To encourage her to hang on? He didn't know what was coming. Neither he nor Ron did. She could feel her body shaking. Was it possible to go into pre-emotive shock?

Bellatrix turned to Narcissa who stood unmoved on the stairs, the silent witness of what was to come.

"We need the Dark Lord to finish off Potter," she said, her hands tightly gripping Hermione as she pushed her back to the center of the room, "but we can alert our friends at the Ministry and go after the Weasleys. If that was their son, he's not as dead as they thought," Bellatrix chuckled, "isn't that right Mudblood?"

((*))

They had just tucked away the radio set into their traveling bag.

Remus had been the first to leave. Which was normal, only tonight he had been summoned home. Andromeda's Phoenix Patronus had stormed through the window demanding he return, that the baby was coming and he was needed with his wife, not the "Rebellious Renegade Convention you insist on participating in."

He had disappeared while the renegades remained, toasting the anticipated birth.

"I should have named myself Renegade," Ginny said regretfully, trying to sneak a tumbler of Fire Whiskey as Angelina poured them out for Kingsley and her brothers.

"Nah, Revenge suits you better. Everything you and Neville have done has been out of revenge for what those hags have done to Hogwarts," smiled Angelina, handing her a glass. "I had no choice when Lee christened me Rapunzel."

"What is that by the way?" Ginny asked, "A type of Bread?"

Fred shrugged and George snuck an arm around Angelina's back. "Some beautiful Muggle princess that had the most amazing braids apparently. Much more suitable than Rodent. Lee was really rooting for someone to take that one."

Kingsley had disappeared next, vanishing to his safe house. He claimed he had another rendezvous, but Kingsley was less information was the usual. Angelina stayed a little while longer before George left to take her home leaving just Ginny and Fred in the kitchen putting the dishes away and sneaking one more drink.

She had flooed over right before the broadcast on their invitation. He knew she had been working on Mum for the last couple days to let her out of the house, saying if Ron really was dying she'd want to see the twins more than sit at his death bed. The brothers had reasoned it was just for a few hours at night no one would know. He and George had thought it'd be good for her to get out and be a part of the rebellion again, even for just a short while. Their mother had reluctantly agreed Ginny could leave-no rebellion having been mentioned to Mum-and it hadn't taken much to get Ginny to sign on for Potterwatch.

"That way Neville can hear you and know your alright," he reasoned. Ginny said the DA would try and get together on Potterwatch nights in the Room of Requirement-with any luck, her lieutenant had tuned in and heard she was alright and not locked away in a prison like Luna.

But now the night was still and it was just the two of them.

"Think Hermione heard you tonight?" Ginny asked, hopping on the counter and leaning against the cupboards as she surveyed her brother, "I heard your last bit, I'm assuming I'm the package and she's Sunny?"

Fred looked down and poured a small measure in both their cups, "I'm not that smooth am I Gin?"

"As smooth as a ridgeback," she smirked, taking a drink.

"I hope she heard it," he said simply, "They're clever kids. And Dad has told Ron to keep an ear out on the radio, that there would be some rebellion broadcasted—" he looked up at her and shrugged, "Dunno, maybe they found us or something."

"Maybe," Ginny said, "I'd like to think Harry heard us. He could probably use a laugh" she set down the glass and crooked her head, "Anyway we could get adjoining suits in Majorca?"

Fred downed the rest of his drink and vehemently shook his head. "Nope, no— definitely not. You and Harry find your own island, Majorca is ours."

She leapt from the cupboard and punched his shoulder gently before she moved to the living room, twirling her wand. "I stand by what I said at the wedding. You hurt her again and Harry and I will dispose of the evidence."

The fire burned green and George emerged, shaking loose the ashes from his shoulder. "Disposing evidence, are we taking a Death Eater out?"

"Nah, Ginny's just reminding me she's team Hermione," Fred answered, putting his glass in the sink and walking into the living room as well.

"Same," George said to Ginny with a wink.

Fred raised his hand to his heart and gave an exaggerated gasp. "What?"

"What?" George responded with an equally dramatic gasp.

"Same for Angelina," Ginny started, burrowing into the corner of the sofa, "Evidence removal," she said waving her wand mockingly towards George.

"Same," Fred said to her while winking at his brother.

"That's it, Ginny it's time we took you home. If your going to do nothing but sow discord between the two of us—"

"No, please don't," She started looking from George to Fred, "All Mum does is look at me like I'm going to make a run for it."

"You do have a flighty look about you," Fred reasoned. "But we have to take you back Gin. Mum won't go to bed till you're in yours."

She looked and George imploringly, "George please—"

"Come on, Fred and I will be there Sunday for Easter Supper," he offered, "We'll sneak you a few day dream fancies to past the time. Won't we Fr—"

But his words died in his mouth. They all looked at the fern glowing red on the coffee table.

"What's that?" Ginny asked as George leaned in and fished out a fleshy tube reminiscent to an extendable ear. It was the receiver to the extendable they had planted in Percy's office months ago. It was charmed to glow red if someone broke into Percy's office or if one of the family's names were mentioned.

He had forgotten it had done that, Fred thought as he fished for his own extendable. Truthfully he had forgotten about it all together. He looked at George and he knew in an instant it was bad.

"-Bloody Blood Traitors not at work this late you idiot," a rough voice said in the office.

"Was worth a try, he's been known to work late, was here till one once working on a cauldron report."

"We'll have to make a house call then," wheezes a third voice, "I hope there's a cell big enough in Azkaban for all the Weasleys," it chuckled.

"Well if not a cell I'm sure we can dig a hole big enough to hide them all," the first voice laughed as his fellows joined him.

George put it down and disappeared from the room and Fred raised his wand. Instantly you could hear the sound of hammers pounding nails into the wood that now boarded the windows upstairs and down in the shop.

Ginny stood up and grasped for the receiver, trying to hear what was going on. Fred was whispering the charms he knew Hermione used to guard their tent-the same ones she had used for Granger House. George returned to the room, two backpacks and a carpet bag that held the radio in his arms.

"Come on Gin, we need to go," George started, reaching for her hand, "There's a chance we might be getting company."

"I'll be right there," Fred said, darting to his room, ignoring George's swears and Ginny's cry. He went straight to his bed and removed the journal and the mirror, tucking both protectively under his wand. He heard Ginny scream and stormed back to the living room.

The Patronus of a Lion leapt down the chimney. Bills voice urgently spilling out. "They've seen Ron. Evacuate to Avalon. Get out now."

George pushed Ginny to the fire place first, disappearing into the green flames as she shouted for Avalon.

George followed, and when he did Fred could hear the tell tale cracking sounds of apparating wizards outside the shop. "Avalon" he said bellowing the words into the flames as they rise up to swallow him.

Years ago, the Death Eaters had appeared in the night and killed Gideon and Fabian Prewett.

He knew the traps he and George had left. And as the fires threw him into Muriel's tea parlor, screams of emerging family members ringing in his ears, he took comfort in knowing their nephews had escaped once again from sharing the same fate.

And he prayed the youngest nephew and his friends would be just as lucky.

((*))

"So Little Miss Mudblood who thought of everything didn't think what would happen if one of her boyfriends said the Dark Lord's name?" Bellatrix laughed, tightening her grip on Hermione.

She knew it was in vain, but she tried to escape. She tried to wiggle free, to break Bellatrix's grasp, but all that did was make Bellatrix laugh harder, her nails digging in to break the skin.

"Look Cissy, Little Miss Mudblood doesn't want to play," she played, letting Hermione go and throwing her down to the marble floor.

Hermione felt Narcissa Malfoy's eyes on her. She heard a step come from the direction Draco had been with his father.

But he didn't say anything. She couldn't remember this from last time. Had he tried to help her? She had in a fleeting moment, hoped that perhaps he'd reach out and offer her sanctuary. But that couldn't be right—

Bellatrix's laughter crushed that hope.

"You think Ickle Draco will help you now?" Bellatrix crooned, "Come Draco, you can help Auntie Bella—"

"It could be Susan Bones," Draco said, his voice having the faintest trace of a waiver. "She's a pureblood—Maybe we're wrong—"

"I've killed enough Bones' to know what they look like," Bellatrix said firmly, crossing her arms and glancing from her nephew to Hermione, "and to know what they die like."

"Auntie Bella—"

"Come Draco, I dare say you've gotten soft at that school of yours. You haven't killed anyone since Dumbledore, why not the mudblood? We'll have some fun first, ask her how she got in my vault—"

"Enough," said Narcissa sharply. "Draco, come with me—"

"Mother—" There was a protest in his voice, and Hermione didn't know who it was for. For Hermione, Who was grasping for memories to shield the more damning ones—for his mother, trying to take them both away somewhere they'd be safe and not complicit—-for him and the innocence robbed him.

Narcissa crossed the room and reached for her sons hand, taking it and leaving out a side passage, her slippered feet gently padding on the floor while Draco's hesitatingly followed.

Bellatrix tutted, clicking her tongue and turning to Lucious, "He's too much like Cissy, you need to beat some sense into him," she said disapprovingly.

A racking pain shot through Hermione, unexpectant. She had her back turned to Bellatrix, spread out on the floor as she had been when she fell, she had missed her raise the wand. But she was confident she had screamed out before Narcissa had managed to shut the door.

"Where have you been Mudblood?" Bellatrix growled, the school girl giggle absent from her face. "We've been looking for you. We sent Death Eaters deep into MACUSA. All that time wasted while you've been hiding in the underbelly of England," she raised her wand like a whip and Hermione felt a searing pain on her cheek, a sliver of blood outlining the wound.

She tried to escape again, struggling to get on her feet and not wanting to turn her back on Bellatrix, she scooted on the floor, her hands drawing her farther back, she tried to get up but failed to miss another dodge of Bellatrix's wand.

The incantation was drowned out by Hermione's scream. The Cruciatus curse felt like a thousand sharp daggers stabbing her body. But it wasn't just stabbing the outside layer, it was stabbing from the inside. As though each cell had been armed and Hermione was their target with no means of escape.

"How did you get into my vault," she shrilled, striding towards her. Her hand reached out like a claw, scratching Hermione's arm that had raised up to protect her face, "What else did you take? Legilimens!"

Hermione thought of a cup, but it was a tea cup with a blue and white pattern from the bed and breakfast in Majorca. She thought of Fred joking they should stay in all day, she tried to focus on the crashing waves on the beach coming from the window.

But the only thing that was crashing was her again, Bellatrix throwing her against one of the marble pillars that lined the ballroom. Hermione tried to steady herself but rolled her ankle and toppled to the ground. Bellatrix didn't let her stay there long.

She waved her wand and Hermione could feel invisible bonds wrap around her, tightly constricting, as if Bellatrix had decided choking the life out of her would be better than breaking her mind, "you can't hide your secrets mudblood, I know you got in, and I will find out!"

"Legilimens!" She cried, and Hermione was looking at her own Gringotts vault, rushing in to put away the galleons she had just had converted from Muggle Bank Notes. The memories flying quickly before her, Bellatrix was digging through her mind, the pain of the constraining ropes making it harder to focus. Think of a Happy Thought—

Another door. The door to the broom closet in the underground, she was pulling Fred's hand they were going to make out in the broom closet. The memories blurred again and it was just her on their tower at Hogwarts, the wind drowning out her yelling vows and threats to time.

Bellatrix screamed again and another jolt of pain wracked her. This was stronger than the first few. This was white hot rage. This was the type of pain that she could remember. You couldn't forget a companionship like this, the kind that demanded to etch itself in your bones.

Perhaps it was. Perhaps Bellatrix was carving her name and Hermione's crimes in her bones. Perhaps she had done this before and a shadow of those words had floated as a scar on her forearm.

She pulled out her dagger and began tracing an outline over Hermione's face, "Maybe Mudbloods don't feel magical pain," she whispered sinisterly in her ear. "It's worked on all your pathetic friends before. Maybe some Muggle pain will open your mouth."

"We found it," Hermione tried, her jaw quivering. "We were camping and found it at Christmas."

Hermione locked eyes with Bellatrix and hoped she was looking at her memories now. Her stumbling in the dark and seeing a blue light blur over the lake, see her peering into the ice and seeing the rubied handle.

She couldn't think of what happened next, and fortunately Bellatrix didn't seem to bother. She dropped her dagger and pinched Hermione's chin with her hand, her nails slipping on the blood that came from Hermione's cheek wound.

"Is that a fake memory too Mudblood? Just like your little fake trails?"

She waved her wand and Hermione collapsed on the floor crying out in pain, it felt as though she had had a blow to the head. She was sobbing, not because it hurt more than the previous injuries, but because she didn't want to do this anymore. She curled to her side, and thought about curling into a ball—but she had that same fear she had before: if she curled in a ball or showed any sign of weakness Bellatrix would finish her off and she'd never see her boys before.

What are you thinking? A voice called from her scattered memories, lifting her above the pain. A voice that had echoed those words time and time again, speaking to her now as though a floating life saver sent as she drowned in this sea.

I'm going to live, she told herself, I'm going to get out of here. I'm going to buy the boys time to get us out of here. And we will. I'm going to see Fred again.

Lucius was muttering something to Bellatrix and then he hit her arm, seeing Hermione rise on her feet, squaring up for another round.

"Did that not hurt enough?" Bellatrix asked, raising her wand.

"Why are you afraid we were in your vault?" Hermione asked, her voice stronger than she thought. "Think we nicked something?"

Bellatrix dove towards her but Lucius pulled her back, "She's playing with you," he muttered, staring at Hermione, "that's how she plays, mind games."

His sisters-in-law broke from his arms and the invisible ropes were back, burning welts rising under her jeans and another jet of the cruciatus racking her chest. Bellatrix reaches for her head, taking the curls on top and yanking them back as Hermione screamed the most blood curdling yet. She raised her wand and Hermione screams were extinguished.

"You know what's going to happen next, don't you Mudblood?" Bellatrix said, her words hot as she whispered them in her ear, "Lucius is going to go get that Goblin and see if the sword is a fake or not—and you best bet for your friends lives it is."

"But regardless of what he says, I'm going to get Harry and the Ginger up here, and they're going to watch Greyback have his fun with you," she said pulling her hair tighter still as tears slipped down Hermione's silent screams. "And then I'm going to have my fun with the Ginger. Harry Potter belongs to the Dark Lord but know that he'll be begging for his last breath while you take yours."

She squeezed her hair one more time and released her, Hermione hitting the floor again, the blisters mixing with newfound bruises to create a cushion of pain.

Bellatrix looked down at her victim and smiled. She bent down and picked up her little silver dagger. "How about we have some fun before Greyback gets you? He shouldn't be the one to mar that beautiful skin of yours."

Hermione tried to get up. She tried to fight her way up as Bellatrix cast the body bind curse on her, she alone could hear the unearthly screams that couldn't escaped her silent mouth as the knife began carving in.

"The dark lord will win girl," Bellatrix said, her voice in reverence "What will your precious order do when they see what we've done to their children?"

She couldn't hang on anymore. She didn't think she wanted to. She gave into the darkness letting it drowned out the pain and swallow her whole.

((*))

Hermione's blood curdling scream rang through the house as Harry and Ron were pushed down the stairs into the cellar.

When it had escaped her lips, Ron had turned around and attempted to fight back, he had tried to go back to her but got a punch in the mouth by a snatcher and was tossed into the cellar, crashing against the cold stony ground.

" Oh no, Harry is that you?" A weary voice he recognized as Luna Lovegood moaned.

"Harry?" Said another familiar voice, "Harry, what the hell are you doing here?"

He knew that voice, Ron thought, but it couldn't be. Was the world already ending? Was he trapped in a loop of its end? A loop where Hermione would be killed by torture and the grave give up her ghosts?

"Lee?" Harry asked just as surprised, "Lee you're dead. They think you're dead—"

She screamed again, louder and more terrible than the first. Her cries leaking below the floors.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled back. He didn't know if it was for her or for his sake he yelled. To remind her she wasn't alone? That they were coming to get her? Could they come to get her?

Fred had told him to keep her safe. He had made him promise. Ron had promised he would keep Hermione safe. Physically, emotionally and mentally. And he was failing in all three.

She was up there alone with Bellatrix. He couldn't think of any situation where they would be walking out of here. Maybe it was a kindness she would be killed first?

No, he argued back, calling out her name again as though it could be a beacon for her no she can't die. Not here. Not alone.

Luna was trying to cut through Harry's bonds. "This would be so much easier if I had light," she wished.

He couldn't help Hermione, but he could make there be light.

"Harry, the deluminator, it's in my pocket— give it a go," he started, walking close enough for Harry to fish the small container from his pockets. With it in hand, he flipped open the lid and the little orbs rushed out filling the small room.

He could see Luna clearly now. Her large blue eyes seemed larger in her now gaunt face, her hair drooping from its usual curl. Mr Ollivander was also sitting nearby, although he looked more despondent than ever, a goblin who also looked worse for wear leaning against the wall, separating himself from the wizards troubles.

But clear as day, there was Lee Jordan. Helping Luna free Harry from his bonds. He had a deep, nasty looking gash that ran from his left temple down to his cheek, but he was clearly very much alive, swearing a storm under his breath as they worked on Harry' ropes.

"Much better, Ron lets get you next," Luna said carefully, reaching out for the ropes that tangled him. Hermione screamed again, more prolonged, now with a sob that trailed in at the end.

He tried to answer her scream with her name, Luna accidentally knicking his wrist with the nail as he lurched towards the ceiling.

"Hold still," Lee said, his large hand anchoring itself to Ron's shoulder, keeping him in place for Luna's helping hands.

Harry was trying to pull something out of his pouch. He cried out, asking the universe for help, out of desperation.

Ron didn't think the universe was listening.

Maybe that was all they were good for, to call for help that couldn't come.

He hoped he'd die. He wouldn't be able to look at Fred, Harry—anyone in the family—in the eye again if Hermione died because they hadn't been able to save her.

She had had the forethought to disguise the three of them. Why hadn't he had the forethought to do more to keep her safe?

"Where did you get the sword? Answer me!"

"It's a fake—" Hermione sobbed, her breath ragged, an insanity he had never heard from Hermione bubbling under her words.

They needed to get her, they needed to get to her before she became like Neville's parents.

They needed to get out of there.

"You better hope it is. Lucius—fetch the goblin. Let's see if little Miss Mudblood is telling the truth."

Harry turned to the goblin. "Please," he started, madness now in his voice, "Tell her it's a fake. It's not—it's really the sword, but you can't tell her that. She can't know. She'll kill Hermione."

The sound of steps were coming closer and Harry extinguished the lights just as Pettigrew opened the door. "Everyone back," he said firmly, brandishing his wand against the walls. He waved his wand and a rope tied itself around the goblins wrists and he was dragged from the room with a sudden lurch, the door locking firmly behind him.

As soon as he had left, a crack filled the room. Just as sudden as the goblins departure, someone had appeared. There, Ron could make out the familiar outline of a house elf.

Dobby.

"Dobby has come to help Harry Potter," he said with a smile, his eyes glinting as he looked around the room, "and his friends!"

"Dobby, can you apparate people out of here?" Harry asked, "Can you get Luna, Lee, and Ollivander out? Take them to—"

"Shell Cottage," Ron interrupted. His brother had offered him sanctuary before. If the family hadn't gotten snatched by Death Eaters in the last two hours, there was no where safer they could hope to go. He looked to Harry, "it's Bill and Fleurs place—we can—"

"I'm staying with you two," Lee said firmly, "I'm not leaving you two without Hermione."

"Me too," said Luna taking a step forward.

Harry's eyes moved to Ron as though asking for help. "Luna, the best way you can help Hermione is to go to Bill and Fleur and tell them what's happening," he said urgently, "they'll need to get a room together, possibly first aid—"

Another unearthly scream sounded from above them, Bellatrix giving Hermione another shot of pain before the goblin came on the scene.

Dobby snapped his fingers to the door before grabbing for Luna and Ollivander hands. "Meet me at the top of the stairs in five minutes," he said and with another ear splitting crack they disappeared.

The departure of three sounded louder than the arrival of one. Bellatrix's screams subsided and Ron could faintly pick up Hermione's cries.

"Lucius send someone to check on the prisoners," Bellatrix said hap hazardously, her voice dipping back into malice, "Bring up the Ginger, maybe if we have Draco beat him around abit that'll loosen her mouth."

"Not likely," growled Lee as he dug towards the corner retrieving a fire poker. Harry looked at it and then the two of them before putting his hand on the door handle and nodding.

Pettigrew surprised face met them as they threw the door open. He didn't scream in alarm but ran towards the three of them, his wand brandished against them.

"I saved your life Pettigrew," snarled Harry, dodging his silver hand, " Remember that? Are you going to kill me now?"

Then there was alarm in both faces as Pettigrew's silver hand dropped his wand. He heard Harry's gasp and trying to stop the hand from moving towards its master. Despite himself, Ron felt his arms move forward, trying to help Harry stop what was unfolding before their eyes.

But there was no use, the hand was locked on the throat and the man's eyes were filled with horror.

They left before Pettigrew hit the floor, storming to the top of the stairs, Lee with his fire stick, Harry with Pettigrew's wand.

As they clamored up the stairs, Ron pulled a sword from a suit of armor. It wasn't as light or graceful as Gryffindor's. He didn't know if it was real, or if it was sharp, but he knew it was heavy under his grip and he could use something heavy right now under the adrenaline of his hand. It may be useless, but he was confident tonight he could make it dangerous.

The three of them stood behind the ballroom door, trying to hear what was going on within. The goblin had told her it was a fake. He heard the goblin grunt in pain and Bellatrix offer a frilly laugh, the one that so often accompanies those offered a momentary reprieve.

"It's a fake," she laughed again, "and such a good thing, I don't think Little Miss Mudblood could have played for much longer."

Ron could see red light coming from under the door jam and head Hermione's scream. It wasn't as strong as the early ones. She didn't have much left in her, and that scared Ron more than anything Bellatrix could do to them. He motioned toward the door but was held back by Lee, "Not yet."

"Disarm Malfoy if you can," Harry muttered, "Disarm as many as you can, but get Malfoy's wand," raising the wand he had stolen. Lee raised his poker slightly and nodded. Ron turned the blade of his sword up, where it was tucked against his shoulder.

Bellatrix gave another school girl giggle, "There, nothing left to do than have Fenrir take out this filth. Now we can call the Dark Lord."

"Not yet Bitch," Lee muttered, looking at Harry as the two of them threw open the door and all three stormed inside.

Two wands responded to the cry of expelliarmus. The goblin had dived to the side. Lee has rushed towards Lucius whose finger had already touched his Dark Mark. Ron glanced at Harry and he wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline of their current situation but he wasn't curling in pain like he typically would be under the circumstances. Ron's eyes scanned the room for Hermione, praying they had beat Greyback.

But his stomach dropped and his heart stopped. She wasn't curled on the floor. Nor was she trapped in Greybacks chokehold. Bellatrix had her. She was unconscious, leaning against Bellatrix's body. She was bleeding on her arm, little rivers flowing down her fingers a small red pool growing near her feet. Her head lulled to the side, curls covering her eyes as Bellatrix held a silver, bloody dagger at her throat.

"Drop your weapons," she said, her voice dark, nothing school girl about it, little ruby red beads appearing on Hermione's neck. "Drop them or we'll see just how muddy her blood is."

The three wands, sword and fire poker clanking against the marble floor.

"You just wait there Harry Potter," Bellatrix said, her breath heaving, "Wait, your death approaches."

"Have any idea how many times he's been told that?" Lee quipped, jutting his jaw out, "Pretty sure the only death that approaches in yours."

Her eyes grew sharper and for a moment Ron was afraid the dagger would be thrown at Lee—but then the chandelier came crashing down.

"How—" he started but realized it wasn't Lee who had done this, it was Dobby who had lept to the ground, trying to lift Hermione from under the twist of iron and shattered crystal.

"Dobby," Ron said, reverence like a prayer slipping from his lips.

Ron was right behind him, and scooped her up in his arms before running back to Harry and Lee who had reclaimed the stolen wands and ancient sword.

"Elf! You could have killed me! You could have killed your mistress!" Bellatrix fumed rising from the floor, swatting away Narcissa, Lucius and their helping hands.

"Dobby has no mistress," he said, straightening up. "Dobby is a free elf, and he has come to save Harry Potter—and his friends."

The elf grabbed for Harry and Ron's hand. Lee was between the two, as though he was ready to leap in front of either of them should Bellatrix try anything.

And she did.

It happened in slow motion. Ron could feel the pull of apparition. He held Hermione closer, wondering if you could be splinched if apparating while unconscious.

He saw a glint of silver darting from Bellatrix. Lee saw it too. Lee knew what it was.

"No," he called out and suddenly twist himself forward in front of Dobby. He felt a painful squeeze on his arm where Lee was holding and he wondered if Lee has been splinched. What if he was? And bad? They could hardly return to the Manor and reclaim the missing body parts—

When they came crashing down in the night, sand all around him, he was relieved to see Hermione still in one piece in his arms. It was brighter outside. The moon unobstructed by clouds. He looked her over, a cut on her throat, deeper gashes in an undistinguished pattern in her arm. A bloody smear, perhaps a cut on her cheek. But otherwise she was there. She would be alright. They had gotten out.

Ron could see Harry was helping Dobby up not far from where they had landed. But they were getting up and quickly rushing towards Lee, hunched over on his side not too far from the rest.

He couldn't see what exactly was wrong with Lee. He stooped down and picked Hermione up again, trying to find his balance. He hobbled over holding her until he reached the party on the beach, the sound of Lee's groans growing louder than the crashing waves.

"Lee!" Harry cried as he got closer, "Lee, what's wrong—what happened?"

A silver handle of a dagger was embedded in Lee's upper leg. Harry grabbed at it and was talking to Lee before he yanked it out as Lee screamed. Dobbys hand moving quickly to cover the wound, red blood bubbling up over his willowy fingers.

"Saw the bitch raise the dagger behind her ear and thought she might try and do something stupid," he groaned, his eyes tightly closed, "You ok Dobby?"

"Yes!" Beamed the elf, snapping the fingers of his less bloody hand and taking the gauze and wrappings that had appeared and anxiously getting to work dressing Lee's wounds. "You saved my life," he said simply, "Dobby will never be able to repay Harry Potter's friend."

"You got us out of there Dobby, I think we're even," Lee said, his breath still uneven. He turned to Ron, "How's Hermione?"

"Unconscious but breathing," he said looking down at her again. "We should get her to the house—Fleur—"

He glanced up to the house and saw two figures racing down towards them. Bill was further behind, Fleur much closer, her hair glistening in the moonlight.

"You got out," Fleur said, her voice cracking and relief flooded her face as she looked at the very living faces in front of her. "We saw you apparate in from the house." her eyes darted from Harry to Ron, and finally to Hermione. She stepped forward, her hand cautiously reaching out for her, "What happened?"

"Bellatrix tortured her," Harry said, as though the last hour of their life was something that could be distinctly be summarized in those three words. "Dobby helped us escape, Bellatrix threw a dagger at Lee when we escaped—"

He had waved the bloody dagger as he spoke. Fleur reached for it, looking at it wearily and tucked it in her apron. "Come, we must get you inside, I'll 'elp with Hermione—and well look at Lee, I 'zink that dagger could be cursed—"

Bill caught up to them, looked at the party and reached out for Hermione, "I'll take her Ron, come on," he said carefully lifting her. He felt relief at his brothers help, but as he saw him race away, taking her back up to the dunes, Fleur at his side, he was again haunted by the sense of failure he had felt in the cellar, his coat carrying the smears of Hermione's bloody arm.

Harry got up and lifted Lee with him. Ron and Dobby followed from behind, and that's when Ron saw the Goblin lying on the sand, the sword still wrapped tightly in his hand.

"Oi," Ron said, stopping and headed over to help him, "Are you alright?"

He walked closer and felt another wave of relief. They still had the sword. The Goblin has also survived and escaped.

If there was any justice in this world, Fleur and Bill would be able to nurse Hermione back to health. And by some miracle, everyone who had escaped Malfoy Manor that night would survive to see the sunrise.

And perhaps the guilt wouldn't consume him. Perhaps that would disappear in the morning sun too.

((*))

Every light in Muriel's manor burned through the night, a beacon of safety as one emerged from the trees.

At least it had that appearance if you were 100 yards from the house. Any closer and you could easily hear the screeches of the caterwauling charm alerting anyone in the near area that all was not right in the halls of Avalon.

"Take it off Muriel!" cried his father as his mother emerged from the flames, a carpet bag in tow.

Fred looked down and saw Muriel's little yorkies nipping and yapping at his heels, their cries drowned out in the wailing of the alarm over head.

"You know maybe facing the brute squad would have been better," he yelled to George, scooping down to pick up the dogs and setting them on the velvet sofa.

"Muriel! Take it off!" His father bellowed again, anxiously attempting to wave her down.

"But it says there's intruders about!" Muriel said, tottering into the room in her floral dressing gown. She made eye contact with Fred and saw George and her eyes narrowed as though they were the unwanted guests.

"Yes and they're bloody well us!" Arthur Weasley spat at the top of his lungs.

Fred saw his mother's mouth move and then she waved her wand and silenced the screeching. "There we are," she said briskly, looking around the room and counting her children. "Lovely, were all here. Muriel, can you ask Celia to put a kettle on? I think we could all use a nice cup of tea."

Muriel disappeared from the room, loudly chundering about her niece giving orders in her house. Fred was surprised she went so quietly, but was grateful she did.

His Mother walked toward her children and tried to draw all of them in like a Hen and her chicks. They knew better than to fight her, not on a night like this. "I was so worried they'd get you," She mused into Ginny's hair, her eyes darting up to her sons. "And here you beat us to Avalon."

"Lucky," George said with a smirk, squeezing his mums arms. His eyes met Fred's and he agreed. They wouldn't tell her the Death Eaters were looking for Percy. She didn't need to worry. Well, she did, but it wouldn't do her any good. She knew one of her sons was in danger tonight, she didn't need to know it was really two.

No three, he thought. Three sons, Ron, Percy and Harry-and her other daughter-Hermione.

"How does Bill know?" Ginny asked, looking from her mum to dad. "How-"

His father shook his head, "Bill has contacts at the Bank-and I'm sure those contacts have contacts of their own. If someone saw Ron it's going to be news. Even if it's just a rumor it'll be enough for the Ministry to start bringing us in, see if they scratch past the rumor to the truth and that would be down right daming. Especially considering we submitted his Death Certificate yesterday."

"So I'm taking it we won't be burying Ron tomorrow?" George asked, " Just tell people he pulled a Lazarus?"

His mother raised a hand to her mouth, "Oh I hope Bill tipped Rownan off, They'll know it was a trick if he's alive and she had declared him dead."

His father gently rested his hand on her shoulder, " They've been friends since Hogwarts Molly, I'm sure he's gotten in touch with her."

For the second time that night the Lion leapt from the fireplace, instantly setting of Muriel's little dogs into a yapping tirade. George waved his wand and suddenly the voices disappeared, just as the Lion spoke.

"Fleur and I are safe. Charlie just checked in and he's traveling with Victor Krum's Quidditch team under an alias. He should be safe for now. He'll go into hiding once they get back to Sofia," he said evenly, "Be careful and stay safe," the voice finished as the lion disappeared before their eyes.

His mother took a step back and collapsed in the pink velvet arm chair. Her head buried in her hands, as though her eldest sons safety had given her too much relief. Mr Weasley turned to Ginny, " Go help Muriel and get your mother a cup of tea," he said, his voice low, crossing the room to stand behind the chair, his arm supportively resting on his wife's shoulder as she relished in her family's safety.

"And what about us?" George asked, " Tea duty?"

"Just stay out of your Aunts way," Dad suggested, quietly muttering "I think she still remembers the dungbomb incident."

They both left the room, and when they did, George turned to Fred and smirked, "Did you see that look Muriel gave us when we got out of the flames? She remembers the Dungbomb. I'm surprised we didn't get kicked out the minute our ash prints touched the carpet."

Fred returned the smile as they made their way to the third floor. While the majority of Muriel's guest and bedrooms were on the second floor, Fred and George had long chosen the isolation of the attic for their visits to Avalon when they were younger. Lifting the trap door, they looked in and realized no one had probably been in since the fateful Christmas of 1985.

George was quick going to work in clearing the dust and transfiguring furniture out of the boxes Muriel had stashed around. Fred meanwhile had conjured a table and was setting up the radio, just as they had always planned should something like this happen.

If the Weasleys had vacated their store, the Gleaners that were Seamus, Dean, Hannah, and Susan would know when they saw the shop boarded up. They were to continue the passport and muggleborn runs until their resources ran out. After that, they were to get on the boat and go to France themselves and wait out the war. Angelina and Verty would be informed to turn their dial to 93.34 and listen for a message he and George would broadcast on loop for a week so they knew all was well, they were safe, and instructions of what they should do next.

Their instructions were similar. George was insistent that Angelina go to France, to fight with the resistance from Penny's house. Andromeda would return there after Tonks had delivered the baby. Tonks was supposed to go back with her. They could hold out until it was over. It was so close to being over. They just needed to stomach France for a month more-

"Do you think they'll go after Ange?" Fred asked cautiously, looking at his brother.

"I don't think so, they know shes a friend, but nothing more," George said as he drew open his extendable backpack and tossed two blankets on their bed. " She can stay in France with the other expats and will be just fine. They keep each other safe."

Before Fred could offer a reply another patronus appeared. It wasn't Andromeda again, or another warning from Bill. It wasn't one from Remus and Tonks announcing the birth of little Teddy.

It was an osprey. He had never seen this one yet. He wondered if perhaps it could be from Percy until he heard the crystal clear voice of Fleur pierce the room.

"They're here Fred, please come quick-it's Hermione."

George was silent. He reached out for Fred's shoulder but his brother had jerked to his bed where he had thrown his bag and effects-

Fred reached for the mirror, " Show me the girl" he growled, shaking it violently, the grey mist swirling behind the glass. "Dammit, show me Hermione."

He shook it again, and again, but her image didn't break threw the glass. When he asked for a third time, George looked over Fred's shoulder as the glass cracked across the middle, the fog disappearing showing Fred his own broken reflection.

Fred turned to George, his face flooded with alarm, his eyes wide and hands shaking. "I didn't break it—it broke itself—it—she"

"Get out of here Freddie," George said, pulling him up from the bed and towards the door. "Fleur's called for you, you should go—you should see her."

They're here Fred, please come quick. It's Hermione.

If he was being summoned, something had happened. If someone was summoning him, and it wasn't Hermione, something had happened to her.

He didn't know what the cracked mirror, but he could only assume it was a feature Hermione had put into preventing him from seeing something dreadful. If Fleur was calling him-if she was asking him to come quick for Hermione-

He looked down at his reflection, fractured in the break of the glass, remembering her last words to him: Goodbye Fred.

He didn't rush to a fireplace. Instead he threw the mirror back on the bed and apparated with a sudden pop into the night.

((*))

Chapter 50 ETA November 2019