October 4th

Hermione was fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. Alone in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with two men that would love to see her dead and seemingly no way out. In the first moments of the bizarre, terrifying situation she found herself in, all she could focus on was the sound of a clanging clock in the next room. Late enough that midnight had approached, she knew that she couldn't expect her husband to just drop by unexpectedly. He would have no reason to be there that late and after she practically demanded that he return to Ginny's bed, he knew that he wasn't wanted. No one would be coming to her defense.

"Will and I were in the same year at Hogwarts. Rivals on the Quidditch pitch, but able to find some common ground when we were alone in the Quidditch changing rooms."

There'd been speculation in the Dolohov family that Aubin's interests didn't lie solely with women, but no one had ever been able to get a clear answer from him or proof. Not that Hermione cared one bit whose bed the horrible man climbed into. It was none of her business and the less of her life spent thinking about him, the better. She couldn't imagine that he would bring his old school boy lover to his secluded cottage for anything other than a nefarious purpose that would leave her dead.

"I was surprised to hear that Will and I had a common enemy."

Aubin was the sort of man who liked to hear the sound of his own voice. If any further proof was needed that he was Lucius Malfoy's younger brother, that would certainly help the case. Merlin and all of the Knights of the Round Table knew that when Lucius was in his cups, he couldn't shut up and those days he was always in his cups. Hermione only half-listened to the man's speech as she tried not to make it obvious she was staring at the discarded robes in the middle of the floor. She would have to move very quickly if she wanted to get her wand out of the pocket before either of them could stop her. Twenty years as a Death Eater and then years before that fighting on the other side gave her somewhat of an advantage to those that stayed on the outskirts of the action.

"You murdered his little brother and I've never forgiven you for turning my brother into a pathetic, Mudblood loving fool. I used to have respect for my brother. Even hope that I could help him when he rose to power as the new Dark Lord."

That was the first Hermione had ever heard of her brother-in-law being the least bit interested in Antonin's activities. Following his arrest at the end of the first wizarding war, all three of Antonin's younger brothers saw him as a cautionary tale. None of them wanted to end up with their life ruined in Azkaban. When the Dark Lord finally won the blasted second wizarding war, they continued with their lives outside of the borders of their native country out of fear that they would be somehow pulled into the violence. They only returned for brief visits. Aubin never seemed to want to even be in the same room as his eldest brother for more than an hour or two at a time every five or six years. Knowing that he hoped to be of assistance when Antonin became the Dark Lord was a surprise indeed.

"But now I understand that because of you and that mongrel that fell out of your well-used vagina, he no longer has any aspirations for power. Just wants a quiet life when he should be the next Dark Lord. It's his by rights."

Hermione firmly believed that her brother-in-law was at least half-insane. As someone who was at least that much and likely more, she thought she could recognize the signs of one about to lose complete contact with reality. It was interesting to hear that Aubin was aware that Antonin wanted nothing more than to be with his family. Where did he learn that? She knew she'd told a few people in confidence the same. Maybe through one of them the message eventually made its way to Aubin. Or perhaps Antonin was now openly admitting that he didn't want to participate in any sort of power struggle for the head of the regime. It didn't matter. All that mattered in that moment was getting the fuck out of the cottage.

She had to make her move quickly to get to her wand. One misstep and it was all over. Waiting until she noticed the two men share a silent look between each other filled with meaning, Hermione ran towards the bundle of robes on the floor. She could just feel the fabric between her fingers when a spell shot at her by one of the wizards sent her flying across the room. Slamming into the wall, she felt her breath knocked out of her. Before she could even fall back to the floor, rough hands grabbed her and dragged her to one of the dining chairs from the kitchen that had been brought into the room while she was still in the bathroom. Clearly, they came prepared. Ropes shot out of the end of Aubin's wand, binding each of her limbs to the chair. Her hope was waning.

"Not fast enough, I'm afraid."

It was the first time that William spoke since she came to the sickening realization that he was there. She'd underestimated him time and time again over the previous nine months. Somehow she got the impression that he would never be able to succeed in his dastardly plans. Maybe if he didn't just happen to be former, or possibly current, lovers with the brother-in-law who hated her, she might have been correct. Once she was tied up and completely at the mercy of the two men, she knew that she'd been very wrong to think him nothing more than an annoyance. She should have taken care of him months earlier. It wouldn't have been difficult.

"Because of you, Will and I have both lost brothers."

"I'm going to enjoy taking my time with you. There won't be any Healers to interrupt us this time."

Stalling was the only weapon she had at her disposal. The longer it took them to complete their task, the more chance she had of someone stumbling upon their treachery. Hermione hoped that Antonin could sense that she was in danger and come seek her out. How many ridiculous novels had she read over the years where the heroine had a special connection with her love that they could just know when the other was in danger? It was all balderdash, to be certain, but for once, she tried to cling to the hope that it wasn't. Neither of the wizards would be a match for her husband.

"How did you even know I was here in the cottage? I didn't think you would care to come back here when everything was still so chaotic. You've always struck me as one who doesn't care to get his hands dirty, Aubin."

A smack against her cheek with the back of his hand was his initial response. She would have to be careful with how much she provoked her brother-in-law. He'd grown up pampered and given the impression that there was nothing he could do wrong. Thanks to his worthless Fawley grandparents he was a self-absorbed, entitled, overgrown brat. The wrong word would send him over the edge. Concerned at first that she'd said it too soon, she relaxed slightly when he smiled.

"Will knows a handy tracking spell. Said he's been looking for you for weeks after you were forced to flee Hogsmeade, but he never could find you. I imagine you've been hiding in places with strong wards and possibly even Fidelius Charms? My big brother is the paranoid type."

The brother of the first man she murdered circled the chair she was tied up in. Even in the short period of time since she last saw him as he tried to strangle the life out of her, he'd grown even more agitated. He was a man at the end of his tether. Shame that she was going to have to figure out a way to end them both if she managed to get out of there. They would've made a perfect couple, she thought sarcastically. Moving to stand in front of her, William took over the rest of the story.

"I knew this general area even if I couldn't see the cottage. Aubin and I have met here many times over the years."

"I really don't want to hear about your sex life."

She hissed in pain at the feel of a blade slashing across her right cheek. He'd moved his hand so swiftly she didn't even know what he was doing until the blood started to well up in the wound. Perhaps he hoped to extend her suffering to a death by a thousand cuts or something equally dramatic. It was almost enough to make her roll her eyes. They were both complete amateurs. To give herself something to focus on rather than her fear, she took to internally critiquing every single mistake they were making. And there were a number.

"It didn't take much to put the pieces together that you were hiding in Aubin's cottage. I sent him an owl with my suspicions."

"And then he came here from Italy and you waited for your chance? Lovely story. Can we get on with this?"

Aubin slapped the cheek his lover just sliced. She almost cried out in pain, but managed to bite her tongue. Giving them the satisfaction of her screams was too much. They didn't deserve them. She would do whatever it took to make sure they didn't break her.

"You've made a lot of enemies, whore. How long do you think it'll take my big brother before he finds your body? I imagine that'll push him over the edge. Gone will be his hopes for a quiet life. He'll be hungry for vengeance. Maybe he'll even decide to take his rightful place as the Dark Lord after all. For reasons I've never understood, he actually loves you."

The scowl on Aubin's face made Hermione roll her eyes. She was done talking. Nothing physical they did to her body would be worse than having to listen to them speak. As terrified as she truly was deep down, she was oddly relaxed about the whole situation. It was really no more than what she deserved. How many people had she done that very same thing to over the years? Perhaps it was about time she got a taste of her own potion.

"You know, Aubin, I've never used an Unforgivable before."

Hermione almost hoped that William was referring to Avada Kedavra. At least then she wouldn't have to continue with the embarrassment of a torture session. She could've taught them both so much about the proper way to bind a prisoner and to cause maximum pain. A tug at her bindings proved that she could probably get out of them if they left her alone. As much as the thought grossed her out, she hoped they would be the type of people who found violence and torture to be exhilarating. Rabastan was the sort. He never could get through a session without getting hard. A few times they'd even taken advantage of his reaction in the middle of an interrogation. They were able to give some of their victims an entertaining show shortly before they died right there in one of the locked side rooms on Level Eleven. If Aubin and William found violence to be stimulating, perhaps she could slip out of the ropes when they were too busy sucking each other off or defiling the sheets to notice what she was doing.

"Crucio!"

There was more than enough hatred inside of William Wood to make his first Unforgivable successful. Writhing in pain, Hermione couldn't keep her promise to herself that she wouldn't scream. Inexperienced casters of that spell could be highly dangerous. Stuck in the same position because of the rope, she didn't have much of a chance to move around. Sharp pain inside her skin indicated that she'd broken at least a couple of bones. She might have broken more if he didn't let up soon after starting. He didn't have the stomach to keep up the steady stream of Dark magic required to make that spell work. Few did.

She lost track of time. When William warned her that he was going to take his time, he hadn't been lying. Each of the wizards took their turn inflicting pain on their victim. Sometimes they used spells. Other times they'd use their hands and their feet. The cut on her face was far from the only cut they inflicted. Her dressing gown was in tatters before long. Soaked in her blood, it was impossible to tell what the color of the fabric once was. William grew more confident in his application of the Cruciatus Curse. As she screamed her still-healing throat raw, she thought about the night she killed Amycus Carrow. Would they let it go that far? Or would they take pity on her before that moment?

Any hope that she would be able to break out of her bonds were dashed as time wore on. She lost count the number of times she suffered under the burning pain of the Cruciatus. Both wizards took their turn trying it. So many years outside of the Inner Circle of the Death Eaters, she'd forgotten how to withstand the pain. Her body was out of practice. And each slice to her skin robbed her of more and more blood. She was growing woozy, unable to keep her head up. Only the tall back of the chair kept it propped up.

The two men began to argue about what they were going to do next. She opened her eyes up as much as she could to watch. With their backs to the bedroom door, neither one of them even noticed when another person entered. Hoping that it was Antonin after receiving a psychic message she tried to send him, she was able to see the newcomer strike both of her would-be murderers in the back with stunners. Convinced that she was saved or she was dead and it was all simply a fantasy, she closed her eyes, no longer able to stay awake. The last thing she remembered before succumbing to the darkness was the feel of her body being carefully lifted off of the chair and carried.