Riddle Manor was more intimidating in the day. It rose powerful and grey against the backdrop of what might have once been an impressive wood. Now the trees stood naked and grey in the chilled mist that surrounded the Manor. The scene was impressively gloomy, and she was grateful that Bellatrix has insisted she bring a cloak along.
She clutched at the navy blue wool of her cloak, remembering Dumbledore's warning that this was the first time she would be seeing the Dark Lord since her father's imprisonment. He had warned her to expect some sort of repercussion for her father's "weakness".
A frown settled over her features. Her father wasn't weak.
Bellatrix, looking very regal in ruby robes that accentuated the paleness of her skin and the black lustre of her curls, shot Hermione a calculated glance as they neared the front door.
Following Dumbledore's advice that she emphasize her youth whenever in the Dark Lord's presence, Hermione had dressed in robes of rosy pink, her hair pulled into a long braid that draped over her shoulder.
"You look like a porcelain doll," drawled Bellatrix, arching an eyebrow as she reached out to pluck a stray hair from Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione pinked, and purposefully ignored her.
The door creaked open to reveal a cringing Wormtail.
"B-B-Bellatrix!" He squeaked, "and Hermione-"
"That's Miss Malfoy to you," corrected Bellatrix. She tossed her curls over her shoulder, and slid past the balding man. "Come Hermione," she commanded without looking back.
Something mutinous churned in Hermione's stomach, but she followed the dark witch anyway. I'm not a dog, she said internally, you don't need to give me commands.
The sound of Bellatrix's laugh made her blush deeper, and all earlier nervousness was chased away by her irritation.
Instead of their usual meeting place in the upstairs study, Bellatrix led her to a large conservatory that had French doors opening into what was once a garden.
A long table held pitchers of pumpkin juice and various fruit tarts. At the head sat the Dark Lord, looking very out of place amongst the brightly colored strawberries that filled his plate. Nagini sat coiled around his shoulders.
"Hermione!" He called out, opening his arms, "Bella. So nice of you to come. Please, sit."
The only other person in attendance was Snape, who offered Bellatrix a terse nod of acknowledgement, and gave Hermione a brief smile.
"My Lord," Bellatrix gushed, sliding into the seat to his right. "It is, as always, the greatest honor to see you." She took one of his cold, white hands and pressed her lips to his knuckles.
A mirthless chuckle escaped his lips. "It is my pleasure to see you as well, Bella."
Jealousy stabbed through Hermione as she took in the look of pure adoration on Bellatrix's face. The older witch had never looked more radiant than she did at that moment, and Hermione thought that she might have done anything to have Bellatrix look at her like that.
Then those red eyes slid over to her, "Hermione, child. I heard you were unwell. Are you better now?"
She nodded, "Yes my Lord. Thank you."
His eyes studied her for a moment, then- "Slide over Severus, and give the girl your seat."
Snape obeyed at once, and Hermione sat in the chair to the left of him. At once Nagini lifted her dark head and moved to examine her, prompting her to giggle a bit as the snake's nose prodded her ear.
A wide grin stretched Voldemort's face, and he hissed something to the snake. Slowly, Nagini slithered to the floor and coiled at Hermione's feet, resting her head in Hermione's lap like a dog.
"Bellatrix tells me that you're lessons with her are coming along quite nicely," he said.
That's funny, Hermione said to Bellatrix, you said just the opposite yesterday. What was it you called me? A 'clumsy oaf with cheese for brains'?
Ignoring her, Bellatrix purred, "She has a gift for dueling, and a keen mind."
Snape, who had just filled Hermione's glass with pumpkin juice, slid a healthy slice of blueberry tart onto Hermione's plate. She took a bite, eyes widening at how delicious it was.
"That's high praise, coming from you Bella."
"It's the truth. I have no doubt that she'll be an excellent addition to our forces."
"There's time for that yet," interjected Snape. "She's not even of age yet."
Bellatrix shot him a glare, "She'll be of age in September!"
"Keeping track, are you?" asked Snape frostily.
"Severus, Bellatrix, cease."
The words were spoken softly, but the tone made the hair on the back of Hermione's neck stand on edge.
"I have no intention of making Hermione a mindless soldier, Severus. Calm yourself."
Snape stabbed a raspberry onto the end of his fork with more force than was necessary.
"A strategist then?" Asked Bellatrix eagerly. "Or perhaps you'll use her to replace certain weaker links," she gave Snape a significant look.
"I've asked you here today because we are in the midst of forming a better future." The Dark Lord sat straighter, and swirled his hand idly around the rim of his goblet. "We have, up till now, been a force to be feared. Grown men glance over their shoulders on well lit streets, mothers warn their children about us, everywhere we go we are a symbol of terror."
Bellatrix looked proud, Snape looked impassive, Hermione felt a little sick.
"But, to what end?" Voldemort sighed, the picture of the careworn leader. "When we finally achieve our goal, who will we rule? Terrified mice who beg for mercy in one light and spit hate with the other?"
He picked up a strawberry and twisted it back and forth in his fingers.
"I don't want to rule a nation of terrified cowards," he continued. "I want to lead the world into a better future. A world free from hiding. We shouldn't just be snuffing out the opposition, we should be inspiring our future citizens. Showing them the glorious future that awaits them!"
"Yes!" Bellatrix looked as if she might burst into tears, and Hermione felt that stab of jealousy again, "What do you have in mind?"
The red eyes met hers again, and she fought the shiver that trickled down her spine. "We shall give them a heroine."
Bellatrix's eyes found hers across the table, and Hermione was surprised to see that they were brimming with pride. She could feel the other witch's happiness, but it did little to ease her nerves.
The Dark Lord continued, "The masses need to be entertained to be content. While the fools under Dumbledore promote mass hysteria, we will promote the dawn of a new age. After all, we are doing this for our children, our young families ushering in an era of enlightenment and progress."
He tightened his fingers, crushing the strawberry so that the sticky red juice trickled down his stark white hand.
"Who better to arouse the adoration of the public than a young, elite daughter of the revolution? You will be the embodiment of our people. Legends will be passed on about your triumphs, and ballads sung in your honor about how you helped bring the wizarding world out of shadows and into the bright new future under my rule."
Hermione felt her stomach flip.
"And of course," he said, laying his clammy palm atop Hermione's, "when they've fallen for you they will have no choice but to fall for me. The whole world will be ripe for the plucking, and at the head of it will be the Dark Lord, and his little lioness.
Beneath the table, she saw Snape's hand clench into a fist.
By the time she got home, her head was buzzing with information. Bellatrix and the Dark Lord had spent hours discussing the importance of a "Romantic Figure" to "Inspire the heart and soul" of the new society.
Hermione stumbled up the stairs, and ran blindly to her room. She was so caught up that she did not notice the dark shadow that followed her, moving swiftly after her and pressing the door shut behind her as she flung herself onto her bed.
She felt sick. Her stomach was churning, threatening to toss up the blueberry tart. She squeezed her eyes shut, and gulped in air, trying to stop her head from spinning.
She did not feel the bed dip, and she barely registered the warmth at her back as someone curled around her. She did, however, register the two arms that wrapped soothingly around her.
The scent of Bellatrix's perfume- dark and woodsy, surrounded her.
"Doveling, Doveling," crooned Bellatrix in her rasping voice. "What's wrong?"
Hermione felt as if something heavy was pressing on her lungs, preventing her from taking a deep breath. "E-Ev-ery-thing." she gasped.
Bellatrix wrapped her tighter. "Was it the meeting?"
Hermione jerked her head in a nod, and felt Bellatrix's cheek against her own.
"Do you realize the honor that he is giving you?" Bellatrix asked. "He wants you by his side. To help bring about a glorious new age."
"I can't..." Hermione whined. She thought of Harry and Draco. Of her parents. Of Uncle Severus.
Bellatrix was still, and Hermione could feel the dark witch's worry. "Doveling. You can. You have to."
"He-He-He's going to k-k-kill me when he finds out."
"Nothing will happen to you."
"He's going to k-kill Harry," she whispered, unable to stop the tears from pouring down her face. "And Draco is going to hate m-m-me forever!"
"Forever is an awfully long time," came the gentle response.
"Bella- I can't do this!"
The other witch said nothing, but began to stroke her fingers down the length of Hermione's arm. Slowly, bit by bit, the brunette's breathing returned to normal.
Then, swiping away the tears on Hermione's cheeks, she whispered, "Nothing's going to happen to you, Doveling. I won't let it."
And Hermione believed it.
Summer break had never been this lonely for the youngest Malfoy. His father was in prison. His sister spent all of her time either at the ministry or "training", and his mother disappeared at all hours of the day and night on mysterious outings.
Ernie Macmillan's parents were reluctant to host the son of a Death Eater, the Weasley's were busy with their own efforts to stop Voldemort, and Harry's letters were becoming more and more infrequent.
To top it all off, he had been ordered to remain on the Manor grounds, where his mother was certain that the wards would protect him.
He hated the part of himself that was grateful to be behind the wards. Safely tucked away with nothing to do but fly his Nimbus 2001 in lazy circles above the pond.
He watched the sun slowly dip beneath the treeline, leaving great streaks of orange and pink across the sky. The wind ruffled his hair as he swooped to the ground.
Although he felt distinctly un-Malfoyish at times, he could not help but feel a certain fondness whenever he entered the Manor. Everything from the plush carpets to the dark, wooden bannisters felt like it was a part of him. He used to lay on the landing of the first floor, his cheek pressed against the smooth wood of the top stair, and listen.
Listen to the elves chatter away when they thought no one was near.
Listen to his parents fight and then make up.
Listen to Hermione's fits of temper when she thought no one could hear.
It was moments like this that made him feel the most connected to his family. He could close his eyes and feel that he was part of each of them.
He bounded up the stairs, smiling to himself as he noted a new photograph on the wall. This one was of Hermione in her dress robes from the Yule Ball, with Draco beside her, making a ridiculous face at the camera, his hand held up in "bunny ears" behind her head. She was trying to discreetly elbow him in the side, her perfect "newspaper smile" threatening to crack into a real grin. After a moment, the photograph-Hermione burst out laughing, prompting the real Draco to chuckle.
A pang of longing tore through him, and he rubbed his fingertips over the polished wooden frame. He and his sister had been best friends their entire lives, yet he had barely seen her this summer.
Struck with inspiration, he headed towards her bedroom.
"Mione!" He called, "Let's go take our dinner on one of the rowboats!" He reached the door and twisted the handle, "The twins taught me this awesome spell that makes fireworks-"
Horror cut him off.
His sister was lying in the middle of her bed, trapped in the embrace of-
"Lestrange!" he snarled, twisting his hand inside of his robes in search of his wand. "Get off of my sister!"
Hermione shot up, her voice frantic, "Draco-"
"So this is my illustrious nephew…" Drawled Bellatrix, slowly sitting up. A smirk stretched across her face, and her eyes glittered with sarcastic mirth, "The...Hufflepuff." She was still pressed up against Hermione, and his brows knitted in confusion as he took in their proximity. Hermione did not appear to be shrinking away from the older witch.
His wand was now out, and he pointed it without hesitation at his aunt. "Better a Hufflepuff than a murderer!" he spat. "Hermione, get away from there!"
"No, Mione," said Bellatrix, resting her chin on the brunette's shoulder, "stay with me." It would have been almost sweet had it not been obvious that she was taunting him.
Prickling, Hermione shot Bellatrix an exasperated look, and then turned pleading eyes to her brother. "Draco, put it down. She's not going to hurt you."
He tightened his grip, feeling ready to scream. "Say that to Sirius! Oh wait, you can't because SHE KILLED HIM!"
His sister stiffened, her eyes widening. Something deep in his mind reminded him that they had never actually spoken about Sirius' death. "She didn't tell you that, did she?!" He shot, though he was losing steam as he watched a cascade of emotions cross his sister's face.
Curiously, he noted Bellatrix's reaction. She stiffened as well, and then ran her hand down Hermione's shoulder. His sister shrugged it off, her cheeks glowing crimson, and when she turned to glare at Bellatrix he could have sworn that the older witch flinched.
"What's happening?" he demanded, feeling suddenly unsure.
Their eyes were still locked, and Bellatrix shook her head ever so slightly.
His voice shook a little as he stepped closer, "What's going on?"
Still no answer, but Bellatrix shook her head again, her eyes narrowing.
"What are you doing to my sister?!" he yelled, stomping across the room, "Tell me now, or i'll-"
A new voice entered the room, "Draco, no!"
But a shot of red light was already flowing, unbidden, from his wand. It hit the darkwitch square in the chest, and she fell back onto the bed. His attention, however, was on Hermione. When Bellatrix fell back Hermione clutched her chest and hissed.
He barely had time to register this, however, as his mother was already wrestling his wand away. "Draco," she said urgently, "stop this. Stop." She cupped his chin gently in her smooth palm, but he jerked away.
"Something's not right," he said, feeling his face burn. "Did you see that? They- I don't even-"
A low cackling laugh sounded from the bed as Bellatrix heaved herself up. "Well I'll give you this, boy. You're curses are sound." She winced, but a broad grin stretched across her face.
Anger simmered in his throat, "Don't you talk to me!"
"Draco," there was a warning in his mother's voice, and she stepped so that she was half in front of him. "Calm down. We will sort this out."
He found it unlikely that whatever "this" was could be sorted out. But still, he quieted.
"Bellatrix," a hard edge entered her voice. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm checking on my trainee," she said smugly. "We had a difficult session today, and I wanted to make sure she was ok."
"You had a meeting today," his mother said.
He could feel his anger rising again, "You knew-" but with a quick look she silenced him.
Bellatrix shrugged, "It was a difficult meeting then."
Narcissa crossed to Hermione, and gently ran her fingers through her hair, "Are you ok, darling?"
He noticed his sister hesitate, and then nod.
"I'm glad of it," Narcissa said, running her thumb over Hermione's cheek. He wasn't so sure his sister was fine. She looked paler than usual, and there was something desperate in her eyes as she looked up at their mother. Bile rose in his throat as Bellatrix discreetly hooked her arm through his sister's.
Then, she looked at her sister, and stiffened. "Thank you for checking on Hermione," she said in a hard tone, "But in the future, I would appreciate it if you did not antagonize my son."
Bellatrix cackled again, and Draco wished he had his wand.
"Now, I think Hermione could use some rest," Naricssa said diplomatically. She kissed the top of Hermione's head, and then looked pointedly at Bellatrix, "Draco and I will see you out."
Draco would rather have kissed a hippogriff, but nonetheless he accompanied his mother and Bellatrix to the front door.
"You didn't see them, Mother," he hissed as they reached the bottom of the staircase. "She was lying in bed with Mione, it was-"
Bellatrix arched an eyebrow at him, looking thoroughly amused. "Who knew my little nephew could be such a prude? I've certainly never seen this side of you."
"You've never seen any side of me!" said a very frustrated Draco, "and I'd be happy if you never saw me again!"
Bellatrix clucked, shaking her head back and forth. "Tell me, love, how is Felix these days?"
He felt like he had been struck. Though he opened his mouth, no words came out. How did she know?
His mother, who had been wearing a thoughtful expression, snapped, "Stop it Bellatrix."
"Stop it Bellatrix," mimicked the dark witch. "Oh Cissy, still so protective. Tell me, do you still cut his meat for him as well?"
"Shut up," growled his mother, and he blinked at her in shock. He had never heard her use that phrase. "Just shut up, Bellatrix. Haven't you done enough?"
Bellatrix drew herself up to her full height, and looked earnestly into Narcissa's gaze. "And I'd do it again if I had the choice. You don't understand Cissy, how could you?"
"How could you?!" His mother's voice cracked at the end of her words, and her eyes shone overly bright. "If you weren't my sister I would cut you down where you stand! I wish I could regardless."
Feeling more than a little alarmed, he stepped closer to his mother and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
"Oh Cissy, it's ok."
She shook her head, and said in a broken whisper, "It will never be ok. My girl… Merlin, Bellatrix, I can see where this is going…I'm not stupid."
"You've never been stupid," replied Bellatrix solemnly. She stepped closer, raising her hand as if to touch Narcissa, but then let it drop. "But in this… You couldn't possibly understand."
"I need you to leave."
"Ok…" but she made no move to leave.
Wordlessly And without looking at her sister, Narcissa moved to open the door. The dark witch moved slowly through the door, looking as if it took every ounce of willpower to do so.
"Mother?"
She shut the door behind Bellatrix, and rested her forehead against the dark wood. A sob escaped her lips.
"Mum!" He leapt to her side, and placed a hand on her back.
"I hate her," she gasped, gasping in a breath and turning her head to the ceiling. "Merlin, I do!"
But there was more to it than that. Draco had been reading people his whole life, and he knew his mother. Her hatred was freezing and composed. This was different.
"She's going to come back, isn't she?" He asked softly.
His mother nodded, sniffing. "I'd be surprised if she wasn't back tomorrow. Hermione is supposed to have her training session in the morning."
"You're not going to put a stop to that?"
She shook her head, and turned to face him. "I'm sorry darling, I shouldn't have lost my composure like that."
It was so absurd he felt like laughing and crying at once. His mother stood there, her hair still immaculate in the dimming light, with only a slight red tinge around her eyes to hint that she had been upset at all.
"We could take Hermione and run," he said. "Father is fine in Azkaban, and Hermione will be safer away from Britain."
"It's too late for that," She whispered. "Hermione has decided to stay and play out Dumbledore's scheme. Nothing on Earth could stop her. And even if we cursed her and forced her to go it wouldn't be too long before Bellatrix found us."
"Why?" Demanded Draco. "What is going on? Please don't lie to me, mum," he said softly.
A soft smile twitched at her lips, and she reached out to ruffle his hair. "Never, my darling." She straightened up, smoothing her hands over her robes, "but it's a long story. Let's see if we can get Mardie to make us some tea."
He nodded, and followed her gratefully to the kitchen.