Enter for the Quidditch League Competition - Round 1 - Puddlemere United - Keeper
Prompt: A horseshoe – Write about someone running out of luck.
Word count: 2,309
Warnings: Canon Divergence, one-sided love, arranged marriage, blood, a little gore
(you won't) break me
Hermione fought the urge to scream and get rid of the tense feeling residing in her chest. It was just a question of time now, but she wasn't ready to admit defeat. Not yet. For all she knew, the battle was still going on and Harry was closer to defeating the Dark Lord than he had ever been before.
"How do you think things are going?" Luna asked from her side, looking subdued. "The Nargles around your head say that you're worried sick."
"I hope things are going well, but I still want to punch Harry for leaving me stuck here," Hermione replied, trying to contain her breath. She wiped her sweaty hands on her mud-splattered jeans, her heart thundering against her ribcage. She could have thrown up from how anxious she was if she weren't trying to keep a cool head for the terrified students huddled in groups all over the Room of Requirement.
It amazed her how the Room transformed itself to make it almost like a refugee camp. Everyone who couldn't fight was huddled around it, talking in low whispers and Hermione hoped they would walk away to a new and better world.
Harry's intentions were good, but Hermione couldn't understand why he was acting so protective with her. He had made her stay with the younger students in the Room of Requirement, claiming it would boost their morale.
Hermione had fought alongside him ever since they had fled from Bill's wedding, and she had more than proven her strength in battle. If it wasn't for that stupid Dolohov's curse starting to act up again, she wouldn't be stuck here away from the fight.
Hermione thought it was bullshit but before she could argue with him, Harry had already left with the rest of the Order and she was left trapped inside the room. Hermione swore she'd kick Harry's arse and tell him just what she thought of his bloody hero complex.
"I think it's almost over," Luna said ominously, interrupting Hermione's furious thoughts.
Before Hermione could ask what she meant by that, that horrible voice echoed through the castle again.
"Harry Potter is dead!" Glee dripped from Voldemort's words, and his obvious delight only caused Hermione's heart to drop.
All her hopes to ever live in a normal Wizarding World had rested on Harry winning against the monster, but now they were shattered. The thought of stepping out of the room into a new world in which her best friend wasn't in made her hands tremble and sweat to bead on her brow. She hadn't even yelled at him for leaving her behind.
The anxious ball in her stomach grew bigger and bigger until Hermione couldn't help but fall to her knees. She barely felt Luna's small hand on her shoulder as the Death Eaters forced their way into the Room of Requirement and chaos ensued.
Hermione had run out of luck and it was time to face her destiny.
"You'll all get a chance to choose your slave," Voldemort said to his Death Eaters, waving a careless hand at Hermione and the others, who were bound at his feet.
For someone who despised Muggles, Voldemort had decided to use a Muggle approach tonight. He had bound them all with thick iron chains. The more Hermione struggled against them, the more they cut into her skin, leaving them bloody. Hermione thought she could unchain herself with some wandless magic, but she was only tiring herself out and exhausting her magical core.
"I hope you choose wisely because you'll bond with them tonight," Voldemort continued, smiling maniacally in her direction.
Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach. She didn't want to be a slave to someone who thought following a lunatic blindly was wise; she wanted to be free to make her own choices, but the time to think like that was in the past.
She was trying not to cry, but it was proving difficult. Harry's body—broken and bloody—had been tossed carelessly in front of them in the middle of the Great Hall, where once they had had such joyous moments together. His eyes were open and lifeless, staring straight at her as if he were asking her where everything had gone wrong.
Hermione didn't know what Voldemort's angle was, but making them jump over Harry's body to meet their matches was just plain despicable.
"This is such a joyous occasion!" Bellatrix was cackling in the background, making Hermione want to curl into herself. There was no way she wanted to call attention to herself and accidentally be chosen as Bellatrix's pet. She regretted thinking that way, but for once in her life, Hermione was going to let someone else take the brunt of Bellatrix's 'enthusiasm'.
Bellatrix wiggled her fingers and cried, "Come, come, choose your little pet!"
The Death Eaters inched closer and started to choose someone to bond with. Draco Malfoy dragged up a screaming Ginny, whispering something in her ear, while Marcus Flint extended a hand towards Luna, who took it without a word.
Hermione didn't want to know who would choose her; she closed her eyes, trying to pretend that this was just a bad dream, and she was going to wake up any second to see they had won the war. Harry was going to stand up and laugh and tell her that he was just playing a terribly stupid joke on her, but when she opened her eyes, Harry was still lying on the ground, his eyes blank and his skin already sallow.
Various men leered at her, and Hermione's skin crawled.
"Can I play with the little mudblood, milord? Why would anyone choose her after all? And I would love a plaything," Bellatrix cooed, her heels click-clacking on the ground as she made her way over.
Hermione's lungs constricted and a scream climbed up her throat, but she held it back. Barely. She couldn't show them any weakness. She wouldn't show them any weakness. No. Not Hermione.
"Now now, Bella, don't be hasty," Voldemort replied, looking at Bellatrix with a glint in his eyes. "We can always leave the mudblood for the end."
Hermione's breath escaped in a soft whoosh. If she was the last one chosen, she could think of a plan to escape and maybe avenge Harry and the others.
But then, someone loudly burst her bubble.
"I choose Hermione Granger."
Hermione's head snapped up to see who had claimed her, but the man's face was hidden behind a Death Eater mask.
Voldemort laughed heartily as if the man had told the world's funniest joke, and Hermione cringed internally, not wanting them to see how it affected her.
"Someone chose the mudblood!" Voldemort yelled, making his cronies laugh in delight. "Oh, young Theodore, I never knew you could be so… entertaining. Come, get your slave."
Hermione didn't understand what was so funny; her mind kept repeating the name Voldemort had said: Theodore.
"Stand up, I don't have all night," the man snapped, stepping in front of her. Hermione looked up, up, up, and found herself staring into the eyes of one Theodore Nott. "Stand up, I said."
'Oh, but I don't want to make it easy on him,' Hermione thought but decided to do as he had said. Theodore's hand was warm and somewhat pleasant in hers, but she didn't give it much thought, not when she was being handed off to the man like cattle. He tried to get her to meet his eyes, but Hermione refused to give him the satisfaction.
"We're going to be bound using the old Nott family magic," Theodore said to Voldemort. Hermione had to applaud his bravery for speaking so confidently in front of the evil megalomaniac. He bowed low at the waist and murmured, "If you'll excuse us, milord."
Voldemort dismissed him with a wave of his long, boney hand. Taking her by the hand, Theodore led Hermione out of the Great Hall, and she remained silent, terrified of what was about to come.
Surprisingly, he turned towards the Library. Hermione remembered Nott had always been lurking around the corner when she was studying or doing her homework; they had never talked, but Hermione often felt him staring at her.
"This isn't how I wanted things to go, but considering everything that has happened, this is the best I can do," Nott muttered to himself, dragging her towards the back of the library. Several bookshelves had been toppled over in the fight against the Death Eaters, and Hermione was tempted to cry at the sight of all those books lying discarded in the rubble. Nott went on talking, "I'm really sorry we can't do it properly… I thought we had time."
"You aren't making any sense. You know that, right?" Hermione finally spoke.
Nott whipped off his mask and pushed his hood back, before he ran his fingers through his chestnut-coloured hair. His sleeve slipped down to his elbow as he did so, revealing the Dark Mark engraved on his surprisingly muscled forearms. If Hermione were a normal girl standing in front of a normal boy, she would have easily lost herself in his cerulean-blue eyes. But because she was not, she ignored them as much as she could.
"Out of everyone there, you picked me to be your slave and now you're not making any sense! Are you going to tell me anything, Nott?"
Hermione knew she was playing a dangerous game, demanding things without knowing the consequences. For all she knew, Theodore was devoted to Voldemort and would torture her for her disobedience, but something in his soft blue eyes told her he wouldn't hurt her. Call it a gut feeling—a fool's gut feeling.
She had to try before he could turn her into his slave and make her do his bidding.
"Please, call me Theo," Nott—no, Theo said softly, before gazing down at her. "I've been watching you since first year, admiring your intellect and how you portray yourself, but I knew I could never have you.
"When the war began, I expected your side to win. That would have been the end of the story. But that failed to happen," Theo explained, taking one of her limp hands in his again. "The Dark Lord is… insane and I fear for the Wizarding World, but I can't say I'm that sad, not if it means I get to finally have you."
Hermione's mind was spiralling. 'Finally have you?' What did Theo mean by that? Looking at him, she hoped it was something innocent. By the look in his eyes, it seemed like it at first glance, but something darker flickered in them too.
Theo's grip on her hand grew stronger.
"I've liked you ever since I first saw you, and now…" He didn't finish his sentence, but it was now obvious what he was hinting at. "I know you don't feel the same, but I could never let any of those horrible men out there approach you, not when I can protect you."
She wouldn't call what he was doing protection, but Hermione was somehow touched that Theo cared for her. It was twisted and sick, but she was now living in a world where her best friend was dead and a madman was in control.
"I… What's your plan?" Hermione asked in a small voice, trying to delay the inevitable.
"If we delay the bonding, they can hurt you and I—can't—won't let that happen," Theo said in a matter-of-fact tone. "As soon as we're bound, the magic will protect you against anything or anyone that tries to hurt you. Trust me."
"How can I trust you? You're going to make me your slave—"
"I don't intend on making you my slave," Theo said with disgust, shaking his head. "I plan to make you my wife. The Nott Family magic will protect you, tying you to the House of Nott, as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. You'll be more powerful, no one will be able to hurt you, and your magical core will be stronger."
Hermione looked at him, feeling like he wasn't telling everything to her.
"The only downside is that our cores will merge, and it'll make me stronger too." Theo waited for her to react to that statement.
'So that's what he wants… He's only using me to gain more power,' Hermione thought practicallyimmediately, but Theo interrupted her thoughts.
"I know what you may be thinking, but you have no better choice," he said, straightening his back and looking like the powerful wizard she knew he was. "It's either being my wife or trying your luck with those Death Eaters out there, who won't hesitate to rip into you like a piece of meat."
Unfortunately, Theo was right. He really was her best and only option. If she went back out there alone, the Death Eaters would use her and discard her after hours and hours of 'playing.' And she couldn't go through that. Not after the torture she had endured under Bellatrix's thumb.
Hermione had never been one to leap before she looked, but for the first time ever, she was going to have to put her trust in someone she didn't know that well and hope for the best.
Straightening her shoulders and meeting Theo's expectant gaze, she finalised her decision.
"Alright. Let's do it."
Theo's lips curved upwards in a slow, confident smile that reached his eyes. Hermione's heart fluttered, and although she tried to believe that it was just anxiety causing her heart to react like that, she knew she was lying to herself. Maybe, just maybe, her luck was turning around. Or maybe Theo was going to betray her right afterwards. She would never know until she took the first step.
Swallowing down her fear, she placed her hand in his and waited for the magic to happen.