December 22nd

Hermione didn't have the first clue where she was when she finally regained consciousness. Somewhere cold and dark and dreary. Her broken arm had been mended. The taste of Skele-Gro and some other foul potion likely used to ease her pain still lingered on her tongue. Was it a good sign that her captor tended to her injuries? As much as she hoped so, she could also remember there were plenty of times that she'd ordered Healers to look after one of her prisoners on Level Eleven only to end their existence in a painful interrogation days later. While she didn't think Rodolphus would hurt her, she'd been wrong before. The problem with trying to predict the actions of a crazy person was they were entirely unpredictable. She should know.

The longer her eyes were open the easier it was to see in the dark. Nothing about where she was seemed the least bit familiar. Dirty and musty, she knew that she was underground somewhere. The dusty camp bed she was laying on wasn't very comfortable or soft. It reminded her eerily of the cellar she was held prisoner in almost a year earlier by William Wood. Had she come full circle? Was she right back where she started? Just the thought made her laugh to keep from crying in her frustration.

"Is there something funny I don't know about?"

Rodolphus' sudden emergence from the shadows was hardly a surprise. No doubt he'd been watching her for hours, waiting patiently for her to wake up. Ginny was right when she called the wizard a 'creepy bastard'. He was one of those bizarre people who enjoyed watching people without their knowledge. There was a great deal about him that was psychologically disturbing.

She couldn't exactly explain why she was laughing without sounding completely insane. Not that it really even mattered. She no longer felt the slightest urge to laugh again. Being back in the madman's presence only made her stomach churn. She looked forward to the day that she could finally grant him the painful death he was just begging for. The year was almost over. Perhaps she would get her chance before the new year began?

"Your last prison for me was more luxurious. A bit warmer too."

"You were never my prisoner, my dear. You could've left whenever you wished. I wouldn't have stopped you."

The urge to laugh returned. As she gave in to her desire, she thought about how false his words were. Just because he gave her the illusion of freedom, the ability to come and go as she liked, did not mean she wasn't a prisoner. Thanks to his partnership with Draco, he would've just found her again if she ran.

"Where are we? Is this underneath your dead brother's house?

Rodolphus' jaw clenched at the reminder of his brother's death. Seeing as it hadn't come as a shock to him, it was clear he already was aware that Rabastan was no longer with them. When Fenrir disposed of his mangled body did he simply drop it at the gates of the estate? It wouldn't have surprised her in the slightest. Fenrir could be a bit dramatic at times.

"Forgive me. I suppose it was always technically your house, but because of your inability to do something as basic as father a child, you were gracious enough to lend it to your brother for his family's use."

She knew it was dangerous to continue to insult and irritate the man, but she didn't care. Part of her wanted him to just lose control and murder her. At least then she wouldn't have to worry about what was going to happen next. She could understand why Ginny didn't fight back the night Antonin killed her. Maybe it was macabre to consider that with her no longer a problem, her family would be free to move on with their lives with considerable less complications. Rodolphus, however, wasn't about to take the bait.

"All you need to concern yourself with is that you will not be able to escape. This room is quite secure."

"I can't imagine that any of your family's house-elves would allow a single corner of your estate to become so filthy, let alone an entire room. So, this house must belong to one of your supporters, one of your closest allies. But, who could that possibly be? I've killed almost all of them."

Rodolphus' eyes narrowed at the unkind mention of her recent killing spree. While she wasn't naïve enough to believe he didn't have others who would be willing to help him, those who were closest to him were no longer able to help him in his disgusting plans. That fact brought her a lot of joy. Isolation could make a person commit very large mistakes. One was generally weaker when they were alone. She'd learned that lesson over and over again.

"They're not all dead."

"Oh, clearly, but your best and brightest are gone. Who are you left with? The ones like Tiberius Zeller that you can easily dispose of?"

Reminding him of the wizard he killed the night he kidnapped Hermione brought a smile to his face. When Rodolphus was happy, Hermione was nervous. Had she said something she shouldn't? Some of the bravado she'd been feeling began to dissipate, her dispassionate façade slowly cracking.

"My plan the other night worked to perfection, wouldn't you agree? Tell me, Hermione, what do you think happened when Miss Jordan ran home bleeding to tell her parents you attacked her and killed poor Mr. Zeller?"

She was afraid to imagine the scene. It had to have been horrible, especially when Tiberius' body was found. Anyone who knew anything about her preferred method of ending an interrogation would've believed she was responsible in a heartbeat. Would Lee and Sarah believe she tried to kill their daughter? If they did, she couldn't blame them if they hated her forever. Not after all they'd done for her over the past year. It was a horrible way to repay their kindness.

"And what about poor Antonin? You just left him in that house, vulnerable and not up to his full strength yet. Do you think the Jordans will have taken their anger at your betrayal out on your husband?"

It was a mark of her true level of self-absorption that she hadn't taken a moment to consider how Antonin would be affected. Evidently she still had a lot to learn about being a good, caring wife. She'd been more concerned about what the Jordans would think of her than they they might do to Antonin. As kind and generous as they were, she knew they were still parents who would be livid that their daughter was attacked by someone they thought was their friend. There was simply no way to tell how they would react. Humans were unpredictable, never behaving exactly as one believed they should. Antonin very well could've been in danger.

Hermione worried that Rodolphus might be right and it was all her fault. She knew from the very beginning that taking Antonin to the Resistance was a huge risk. There were so many enemies of them both within the organization. What if they were just looking for a reason to hurt or imprison her husband? Lee and Sarah might be able to see past the violence on their daughter, but what about the other villagers? If the Jordans weren't at the head of the mob, they would be in danger too. And spy or not, if someone found out Antonin was the one who killed Ginny, he wouldn't leave the village alive. At least two of her three remaining brothers would have something to say about his fate.

"How did you get Lizzie to do what you wanted?"

From the moment she realized the young witch was leading her into a trap, Hermione wanted to know how it all began. Focusing on the logistics of the plan would hopefully keep her mind off of the worries she had for her husband for a few minutes. There was nothing she could do to help him where she was. Her question made Rodolphus laugh.

"I suppose I have you to thank for her, my dear. Without your help I never would've known what sort of asset young Lizzie could be."

"How did I help?"

"You told Draco about your concerns for the girl months ago. I thought she sounded fascinating, so I decided to find out if it was true. What did I have to lose? If I was wrong, I could always obliviate the girl. Besides, who would take her seriously? She's just a child."

It made Hermione sick to realize what she told Draco in confidence was passed along to his uncle. How was it even possible that for a short time in the past year she believed she could actually trust Draco? She was embarrassed to remember how easily she'd fallen under his manipulative spell. Why? Had she simply been that lonely, that desperate for companionship? It was a question she didn't expect to ever learn the answer to.

"Once she knew who I was, she wasn't afraid. Just like you told Draco, she's fascinated by Death Eaters. Even seemed a bit sad to learn that we all lost our Dark Marks when the Dark Lord died. Children make wonderful spies. Adults never pay them much mind and they are always listening."

"So you didn't use an Imperius Curse on her to get her to help you?"

"Oh, I certainly did, but it wasn't because she was unwilling to help me. She was actually quite eager. Seems the girl doesn't care much for you at all, I'm afraid, but no, I needed it to be perfect. The Imperius Curse ensured she would say and do exactly as I told her. More parents should be willing to use it on their children. The world would be a much more pleasant place."

Hermione wasn't sure what her beliefs were when it came to the existence of some sort of Higher Power. Sometimes it all sounded like complete rubbish to her logical brain, but then there were times she couldn't just simply write something off as a coincidence. The fact that early on in his miserable life Rodolphus was struck with a disease that would rob him of the ability to create his own children seemed divinely providential. Just imagining a child born with his genes mixed in with Bellatrix's was terrifying. The poor child would have had no chance at being anything closely resembling a normal, healthy human being. They would've quite simply been fucked from the very beginning. Was the hand of God responsible for his inability to create life? Needing a distraction from her disturbing thoughts about Rodolphus as a father, she dwelled on the knowledge of Draco's latest betrayal.

"What exactly is Draco's role in all of this? Why does he pretend one second that he's on my side, that he's falling in love with me, and then in the next, betray me?"

She didn't really expect Rodolphus to give her a truthful answer. That was quite simply not how he operated. If he wanted her to know something, he would tell her openly. If he wanted to keep something a secret, nothing would change his mind. He could be infuriatingly tenacious and tight-lipped.

"Did he actually claim he was falling in love with you?"

"No, but he implied it."

"Interesting. That's a surprise to me. I was under the impression that Draco didn't have the capacity to feel love for anyone but his own mother. There's a tragic Greek play about that, I believe. Something delightfully naughty. Occasionally even Muggles can be entertaining. Perhaps I should give Draco a copy of it for Christmas. He might enjoy the similarities."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his attempt to make jokes. No, if she wanted information about Draco's true loyalties, Rodolphus wasn't the one to give them to her. He would leave her in the dark just because he found it entertaining. He was infuriating.

"Do you have some sort of power over Draco? Are you blackmailing him?"

"Not that it is any of your business, but no, I'm not. Draco has always been the one to approach me. I apologize if that hurts your feelings. I know how fond you were growing of him."

"Just tell me, Rodolphus. Why is Draco helping you?"

"Oh, no, my dear. You are in no position to make demands any longer."

Clearly bored with their conversation, Rodolphus abandoned her in the darkness.