Chapter 27- Torment

Bellatrix could not wait going immediately for the kill, Hermione was a skilled duellist who had been trained and practice with the most able members of the Order of the phoenix. She was not so easy to kill. She rolled away from the curse firing a silent 'confringo' towards the savage dark haired witch. Bellatrix had clearly underestimated Hermione assuming that her own age and experience would give her an advantage. As she found herself in flames, forced to use a defensive 'aquamenti' to douse herself. Bellatrix realised her mistake.

"Good, good," Voldemort crowed letting out a noise that from someone else might have rung like laughter.

Bellatrix bristled at the praise that was clearly aimed at Hermione. Again she sent a vicious unforgivable at her opponent this time a 'curio', but Hermione's 'protego' was too strong. The dark haired witch hissed in frustration circling Hermione like a vulture above carrion.

"You think you are better than me?" Bellatrix spat out clearly loosing whatever self-control she still possessed. "You think you can out match me?"

Hermione didn't reply she merely gave the dark haired witch a smirk that Draco himself would have been proud of.

Draco was proud, although he was tormented by his inability to aid Hermione in any way he knew that Bellatrix was in for the fight of her life. He watched his wife in awe as tongues of shadow gathered around her. He realised then that Hermione had not drawn her wand, she had not needed to, is she truly so powerful? He wondered of the petite witch whose size clearly belied her strength and power. How could Voldemort ever claim that muggle-borns were inferior if they all bore witness to this? Hermione's power gathered seeming to suck all light and life from the room. Beads of sweat were gathered on Bellatrix's brow as she struggled to hold back the force that Hermione had thrown against her. Suddenly he was conscious that somewhere to his left one of the Death Eaters had collapsed to the floor. Then another fell and yet another, it was then that he realised what Hermione was doing. The dark tongues that gathered around her was not smoke and shadow as he had a first thought it was magic, the dark magic at the core of every Death Eater present and she was sucking it out of them and turning it upon one of their own.

Bellatrix's knees buckled and she grabbed at her throat greedily gasping for air. Hermione was sucking the air from her lungs he realised. If Voldemort did not intervene his aunt was done for. It became rapidly clear with Voldemort's next words that he had no intentions of intervening.

"Intriguing," Voldemort said gleefully, "fascinating," he continued.

"My Lord," Bellatrix managed to gasp out, "help me!"

"Bella my dear, he turned towards his most loyal and devoted follower, "you know that I cannot tolerate or reward weakness."

The sudden moment of lucidity that was evident in Bellatrix's eyes was painful to observe. The realisation of years wasted in devotion to a man that, when all was said and done, valued her less than the 'filthy trash' that would supplant her. With one final herculean effort she rallied rounding not on her opponent but on the man who had betrayed her devotion.

"Aved…" she never finished forming the words. With a sickening snap of his fingers the Dark Lord broke her neck. As his aunt crumpled to the floor Draco found himself staring into her once beautiful eyes, eyes that were now glassy and lifeless but nonetheless wide with surprise.

Hermione swallowed thickly, Bellatrix was dead and whilst she had not actually killed she knew without a doubt that she had as good as done so and her penance: to take her place at Voldemort's side. She had shown herself capable of wielding great power and dark magic. He would see her as an asset. Instead she would be an asset to the light, like Snape before her she would play her part to perfection until finally they would destroy him.

Well done Miss Granger, you are indeed a very power witch as I had foreseen.

Liar, Draco silently intoned; Voldemort had foreseen none of this he was merely covering for the faults in his own rhetoric. He would now make up some barely plausible explanation for why Hermione was so powerful. She was a lost pure-blood heiress Draco heard him begin. Bullshit, he incanted to himself.

"Draco," he suddenly heard her voice scream at the edges of his consciousness, "What now?" she pleaded sounding panicked although her exterior was a cold as frosted steel.

"Play along, try to buy us time, the priority right now is that you survive." He communicated back.

"No," she responded, "the priority now is that we both survive."

"Come, my Dark Lady," Voldemort said holding out his hand towards Hermione. Knowing better than to hesitate she walked confidently towards him stifling the urge to flinch as she made contact with his cold clammy hand.

"Tomorrow," Voldemort announce, "I shall honour you with my mark; you will take your place at my side as I promised." Hermione played along as Draco had told her to but she felt like she was walking through some nightmare. If only she could wake up. She realised with horror, as Voldemort kick aside the fallen corpse of his former lieutenant that, unless someone or something came to rescue her, she would become a Death Eater.

If Draco had felt torment to watch his witch duel Bellatrix but his agony now increased tenfold as he considered the implications of what had just occurred. Bellatrix was dead; Hermione was the victor and her prize was to reign at Voldemort's side. Draco felt sick as he realised that the Dark Lord appeared somewhat enthralled with his wife and he knew that Voldemort did not like to share his new toys.

Shit, he silently cursed, I'm as good as dead.

Author's note

Ok, so I am endeavouring to complete this now as the muse has stuck and I am desperate to write another story (or two!) that I have in mind. Don't worry though I will complete this first. Please review by way of encouragement to speed things along that would be greatly appreciated.