Thanks so much for the reviews! Hope this one doesn't disappoint, as things get infinitely more interesting! (At least IMO)
A/N: Just a friendly reminder, this is an AU fic! If there's any confusion, PM me!
Hermione welcomed the solitude of the library as if it were an old friend, as she took to sequestering herself amongst the creaking bookshelves any moment she could throughout the weekdays. Homework was finished quickly and efficiently before she'd sit with a few of what she had come to call her, 'extracurriculars'. A quick probing dialogue with Professor Snape yielded a short list of 'recommended titles' all contained within the restricted section, allowed her reading collection to grow exponentially; most of the newly acquired books concerning the dark subject of parapsychology, meditation and of course, telekinesis. The dusty book, mysteriously given to her a few nights ago, still lay below her bed, as she still looked at the ragged tome with great trepidation. But more importantly, she was troubled and deeply conflicted. Why did the Death Eaters want to contact her? Why attack Hogwarts to give her an old history book? And the most important dilemma of all…should she turn the book, as well as the note in to the Order? Another attack was coming…but would it still just be a diversion? And the most important issue of all: if the Order did intervene, would she squander the one chance to learn who she is?
She opted not to make that decision until she made light of what was contained within the books pages. For the time being, however, she was going to hone her skills of telekinesis.
Much to Hermione's delight, the world was her practice ground. In the beginning she stuck to simple summoning and levitation spells while sitting at her desk; mostly calling forth books, quills and parchment from across a short distance. Ironically each miniscule entity she moved left her feeling as if she had lifted nearly 100 pounds. The books suggested that the Witches and Wizards that were most talented with telekinesis were also of great physical condition; many of who had subjected their bodies to difficult physical trials to build strength and prove their mettle. With that she had begun to exercise more often, and, under the darkness of night, quietly meditate before bed. This peculiar nightly ritual earned her many concerned stares from her suitemates.
Throwing on a pair of shorts, tank-top and trainers, she would step outside into the thick damp morning air and go running across the vast grounds all before breakfast, careful to avoid suspicion of the Aurors. Showing up drenched in sweat without robes to breakfast, she found, was a one-way ticket to detention, as she already had earned herself three in one week. In the past this would've been completely horrible and utterly devastating, but as far Hermione cared now; it was just another opportunity to quietly continue her 'studies' uninterrupted.
"'Zis 'eez fascinating 'Ermy! 'Zee power to bend matter at your own will!" Hermione always found herself smiling broadly, both inward and out, whenever Fleur used the shortened form of her name; something the French woman had recently taken great delight in. The word fluttered from her lips like a butterfly eager to take flight.
It was Friday night, and the two lovers were curled up on Fleur's bed, a tangle of arms and legs after a passionate hour of lovemaking. Hermione spared nothing to demonstrate how useful her newfound skills were in bed; keeping Fleur's body aloft while her hands and mouth were free to effortlessly ravish the blonde's body was a particular favorite. Slick with sweat, Hermione held Fleur close to her chest, as if the French woman was made of gold.
The Gryffindor knew she was in love when they had established their favorite post-sex ritual…sharing a glass of wine in the kitchen, while completely devoid of clothes. Fleur had bashfully confided in the young witch that she often considered clothes to be suffocating, especially robes, and was perfectly content to feel the air on her bare skin whenever she was alone. Hermione wasn't sure if this was a 'veela-thing' or a quirk possessed by all French women. With a bit of unease at first, as Hermione was a little uncomfortable leaving the sanctuary of the bedroom while in the nude; she soon came to find it to be quite an enjoyable feeling. Soon after, they were both very comfortable with the other's body, dressing and undressing in front of each other with no issue. They fell into normalcy, and the small flat above Gladrag's Wizard-wear became Hermione's new home.
Hermione kept a small stockpile of books and parchment at Fleur's apartment and shortly thereafter was even given her own drawer in the bureau in Fleur's room. Relishing every waking moment spent with her lover, Hermione often found returning to school to be extremely difficult, as she never, ever wanted to leave. Homesickness plagued her during the school week, and she found herself falling asleep next to Fleur's Yule Ball photo placed delicately next to her head upon her pillow.
Later that evening while lying comfortably in their bed, Hermione pored over various Potions formulations, while Fleur finished up some finance reports from work. Fed up with one particularly vexing equation Hermione sighed loudly with aggravation and slammed her textbook shut. "I don't know how much more of this rubbish I can take!"
Fleur shook her head with a smile and placed a light kiss of the brunette's cheek. "Just a few more months 'Ermione…once 'zee year 'eez over, 'zen we can truly begin our lives togezzer."
"School is absolutely tortuous Fleur. I can hardly pay attention anymore!"
"But you must! You're 'zee brightest 'een your year! I do not wish to be 'zee reason you lose 'zat distinction ma belle!"
"Oh really? How do you know you are the reason for my distractions?"
Fleur raised a knowing eyebrow. "I know 'zis because 'eef you were 'zinking of someone else…well we wouldn't be 'aving 'zis conversation now would we? And don't 'zink I don't notice your wandering eyes ma belle…" A smile curled the French witch's lips.
At that Hermione begrudgingly delved back into her work, fully aware of the self-satisfied grin currently on the blonde's face.
An hour had passed and Fleur was now silently slumbering while holding up one of her memos. Wand in hand, Hermione took the opportunity to silently slip into the living room, and grab one book from her bag. Curling up on the daybed amongst blankets, Hermione began to delve into the elusive book, The Most Ancient House of Gaunt.
"Lumnos." She whispered and put her now lit wand behind her ear.
Turning to the books fraying inside cover, Hermione let out a gasp at the sight of a very old stamp denoting this book's previous owned: IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO THE RESTRICTED SECTION, HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY. "Odd…" She muttered to no one in particular. "Why would a simple history book be in the restricted section?" Turning to the introduction, she leaned in closer, her eyes closely scanning the fading type.
Little Hangleton, now a small unassuming community, long enjoyed the distinction of being a picturesque idyllic muggle hamlet, presided over by the affluent Riddle Family. Weary travelers often spoke favorably of the hospitable nature of the town's inhabitants, lauding their kindness and selfless nature. However underneath every lovely shell, often there lies a dark interior. For in the outskirts of Little Hangleton there stood a single derelict shack, tucked amongst the overgrowth. Nailed to the hovel's front door was the rotting carcass of a great snake; as if to provide a word of warning to anyone that dared approach its entrance. Unbeknownst to the muggle townsfolk, within the walls of the decaying house lived one of the oldest pureblood families of the Wizarding world: The Gaunts.
The Gaunt family, the last true descendents of Salazar Slytherin, was at one point a well-recognized pureblood surname that had ultimately fallen into obscurity; as pureblood fanaticism and inbreeding nearly drove the family to extinction. Their vast fortune was fully squandered by the late 1950s. Most of the Gaunts were lost to disease stemming from their slovenly living conditions, or to the ills that accompanied addiction. One such member of the family would go on to become the most powerful adversary the Wizarding world has ever known: the Dark Lord Voldemort.
This book covers the mysterious and at times fascinating history of the House that had borne the darkest wizard of our time…
Hours passed and Hermione had consumed nearly half of the book, her attention completely hooked. The Gaunts truly were shrouded in mystery and obscurity, and for some reason this was something the Death Eaters went to great lengths for her to know about. While reading, Hermione had put together a crude family tree on a piece of parchment as there was a chapter devoted to each of the final members of the Gaunt family;
Marvolo, the grandfather of Lord Voldemort.
Merope, the daughter of Marvolo, mother of Tom Riddle Jr. AKA Lord Voldemort.
Morfin, the son of Marvolo, father of Helen Gaunt
Tom Riddle Jr., the son of Merope, cousin of Helen
Helen, the daughter of Morfin, cousin of Tom Riddle Jr.
She had reached Helen's chapter when she was stung by an unexpected realization. …Honor your true blood…HONOR YOURTRUE BLOOD… Her fingers suddenly grew cold and clammy as she thumbed the title page that read HELEN CLYTEMNESTRA GAUNT: The Last Hope. Nausea ate at her stomach as she began to read the words…
Though the Gaunts were plagued by such vices as alcoholism, gambling and drug abuse, there was small hope for familial redemption; and it rested upon the shoulders of the beautiful Helen Clytemnestra Gaunt (1957-1979), the only child of Morfin Gaunt. Named after the ancient sorceress Helen of Troy, Helen Gaunt was poised to restore honor to her family name as she was slated to graduate at the top of her class from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Helen was a gifted student who, like her cousin Tom years prior, had been sorted into Slytherin house. By the end of her 7th year the Ministry of Magic had bestowed a handsome grant upon the young Miss Gaunt, as she had made known her intentions of researching the ancient art of Telekinetic Magic.
However her life had been tragically cut short two years later as she died unexpectedly after complications from childbirth; from a pregnancy unknown to her then incarcerated father Morfin…
SLAM!She closed the book violently and in her haste lobbed it unceremoniously across the wooden floor as if its pages were made of acid.
It suddenly became abundantly obvious to Hermione.
Everything had fallen into place, this was why the book was placed in her possession. Helen Gaunt.
Could it be…?
"No…no, no, no, no, no…" She repeated over and over, clutching tightly at her temples. "It's not true…they're playing to my anger over my parents…that's it. This is just all an opportune coincidence. That's it…that's all. There's no way that I'm-" Rocking back and forth on her heels, she began to hyperventilate.
The soft creak of Fleur's bedroom door brought her crashing back to reality. "'Ermy? I 'eard a noise…are you alright?"
"Y-y-yes baby. Just a bit frustrated by potions. Dropped the book on the floor. Didn't mean to wake you."
"Oh 'Ermione…'Eetz so late…come to bed please?" Fleur stifled a yawn. The sight melted Hermione's heart, and she smiled.
"Just a minute love." Fleur went back into the darkness of the room.
Grabbing all of her books, Hermione took one more glance at the cover of the old book, before hurriedly shoving it into her book bag…the shrieking shack had damn well better provide an explanation…and she retreated to the sanctuary of her lover's bedroom.
Hermione ran.
She ran until her legs pumped acid through their veins. Every few miles, she'd stop to catch her breath, maybe stretch for a moment. Then she ran some more. The grounds at Hogwarts were vast and wide reaching, with a seemingly endless network of roads and trails. Hermione wanted to conquer them all. A particular trail she enjoyed led into the depths of the forbidden woods, and eventually ended in a secluded clearing deep inside the forest. It was here that she was able to do most of her practicing. Each session bringing about the tides of her personal evolution.
Perched precariously atop a large boulder, Hermione positioned herself in a tight lotus pose, breathing in the dank air of the woods deeply through her nostrils. Clamping her eyes shut, she rested her arms on top of her thighs and concentrated on clearing her mind. She focused intently on the sounds and smells around her. Her heart slowed to nearly a crawl as she began to concentrate upon painstakingly levitating some nearby rocks into a neatly stacked cairn. All around her several smaller cairns she had built dotted the scenery, but this one was her tallest yet. At it's completion she opened her eyes and smiled broadly.
Levitation had become increasingly easier as the days went by. She moved on to other spells, eventually to transfiguration, and summoning. However these simple spells did nothing to sate her thirst for knowledge, she knew she still had to hone her dueling skills. This ability had the potential to make her lethal in combat; she needed a sparring partner, or at least a punching bag of some sort. A boggart would be nice, she thought, or even perhaps…Ron and Ginny Weasley. Immediately she shook the thought from her head and leapt to her feet, making her way back up through the hills to the castle, breakfast would end within a half an hour.
Classes became a chore as she longed to be back out practicing. Often she caught herself forgetting to bring her wand, and earning herself extra rolls of parchment for essays. It mattered little to her; she knew she could churn out superfluous statements better than anyone when it came to essays. It was just a mere delay. Throughout her classes, upon a piece of parchment, she would silently compose a list of spells she wanted to perfect telekinetically. At first this list consisted of the most basic spells:
-Accio – nearly mastered
-Alohomora – have yet to try
-Engorgio – nearly mastered
-Wingardium Leviosa – nearly mastered, can now lift objects 10 stone
-Protego – only performed once, need to be in a combat situation
Hermione frowned, while all of this was indeed quite useful, she knew she needed to find something to duel. And she needed to find it fast. It had been exactly one month to the day since she had received the book; the attack mentioned in her letter was merely hours away, and still she was unsure of the senders intention. Was it a trap? If it was, it was working, for Hermione was set on going to the shrieking shack that night, death eaters be damned.
"Oi! 'Mione!" Instantly Hermione shoved the list into her pocket, her blood ran red hot as she recognized the voice of Ron, now quickly approaching her in the great hall.
"What do you need?" She seethed, keeping her jaw clenched tightly. Ron took it upon himself to shoo away a group of quietly studying first years that were sitting next to the brown haired witch.
When they looked up at him incredulously he snapped, "I'm Ron Weasley, and you all better move before I make you move!" Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing and she rolled her eyes angrily. After he sat down, his gaze met hers. "Now I know we're not on the best of terms right now…"
"Really! What ever gave you that preposterous idea?"
"I need your help 'Mione, and I have no where else to turn. Slughorn, the bloody nutter, he's out to get me he is! Showed up late to class this morning and he slams me with an extra five rolls of parchment on the market value of Ashwinder eggs! I know bloody nothing about Ashwinders! Let alone what the damn things are! You gotta help me, I'm barely passing his class as it is. Come on 'Mione…be a pal."
After a deafening silence, Hermione's jaw had gone slack at some point during his begging. She was completely dumbstruck. "You're completely serious aren't you? You actually are that dimwitted to approach me for help with your complete and utter ineptitude and expect me to actually oblige you? After how you've been treating me?"
He gave her an arrogant smile. "Think of it as a way to regain my trust. I didn't speak to Bill yet you know…" He said perhaps a bit too proudly. She pushed her chair out from under the table violently and stood at full height, staring daggers at her former friend.
"You can just forget it Ron. Leave me alone!"
"Where're you going? Going to cry about it with Phlegm now are we?"
Ignoring his jab, her decision was made abundantly clear as she stormed out of the great hall.
She wasn't going to warn anyone about the death eaters.
Let them come.
It'd be a welcome change of company as far as she cared. Maybe if she were lucky, one of them would capture Ron Weasley, and carry out all of the hexes that she so longed to perform on him right now.
"DEATH EATERS! IN THE COURTYARDS!"
At the sound of Filch's shrill voice as he sprinted across the great hall, the room was instantly plunged into utter chaos. Students ran every which direction, slamming into one another, knocking over glasses, flatware and silverware, chairs falling to the floor with a clatter. First years bunched into huddles clutching desperately to one another, eyes bright with tears. Neville, as head boy of Gryffindor, struggled to corral the young students, but failed miserably as they flew out the large doors amongst the raging stampede of children. Only one person in the hall remained glued to their seat, hunched low over the table; Hermione. She watched the crowd carefully, waiting for the right moment to make her way out of the castle onto the grounds. A few more minutes and the Aurors will have made their way outside. Stay patient and stay low, she kept telling herself.
"HERMIONE!" Cursing inwardly Hermione looked up to see Harry standing over her, wand at his side. "Let's go, the Order should be here any minute!" He snatched her wrist and pulled her up to her feet, and she followed him out the large doors only to arrive at a smaller group of people she didn't want to see.
"They're back again? Why!" Lavender whined. It took every meager drop of Hermione's rapidly depleting self-control to not punch the girl in the mouth then and there.
"Calm down Lav. We're all here now, let's regroup with the order outside, and make our way across the grounds. Head them off before they breach the front gates."
BOOM! A loud explosion rang from outside and more screams of terror erupted from the throats of scared students.
"Come on mates we don't have much time!"
Hermione instinctively pulled up the hood of her black sweatshirt and pulled tight the drawstrings as she followed the group outside.
Flames billowed from several trees on the far side of the courtyard as flashes of bright lights shot like rockets across the grass. The death eaters were fast approaching; most of them dressed in black cloaks, their identities hidden behind their ominous silver masks. Harry and Ron were engaged with three of the cloaked fiends, while Ginny and Lavender teamed up with Tonks who was trading shots with two death eaters. Hermione huddled close to the courtyard wall, her eyes focused intently on the gate, which thankfully was slightly ajar. Wand tucked into the liner of her jeans she strafed along the stones, staying completely hidden amongst the shadows. She had nearly made it to the iron gate as one of the death eaters saw her, the empty eyes of his grotesque mask seemingly boring holes into her. Frozen in her steps Hermione stared back, and her eyes flitted to the gate, as if to silently ask the cloaked figure permission to leave. To her surprise the death eater merely nodded and turned around to rejoin the melee unfolding on the lawn.
Hermione quickly traversed the distance toward the Whomping Willow in great leaping strides. She nearly fell as she was forced to deftly dodge wayward curses fired by the multitude of Aurors now scouring the grounds for any death eaters. The disgruntled tree was currently tossing around a death eater like a rag doll, eventually hurling the body to the ground where it landed in a mess of limbs. Hermione took the opportunity to make a mad dash for the one entrance she knew that lies underneath the tree's gnarled roots. The Aurors were getting closer as she managed to slip under the Willows roots moments before it wildly swatted at the Aurors. Now that she was in the cavern beneath the tree, it had suddenly become quiet, the only noise being her own nervous breathing.
"Lumnos." Whispering softly, she held her wand steadily aloft, the meager light just barely illuminating the dirt path leading to the hatched door of the Shrieking shack.
The shack itself was devoid of any light, and it almost seemed alive as the walls and floors groaned and breathed with each careful step the young witch took. Aiming her wand in a sweeping motion, Hermione made her way to the topmost room of the shack. As she passed several of the boarded up windows that dotted the shack's façade, she could hear the faint sounds of shouting voices, and see the even fainter lights of hexes being fired from wands. The Aurors were getting close.
Pushing open the creaking door Hermione entered the large master suite. Scanning the room with her lit wand once more, she began to grow nervous, as there was no sign of anyone else in the room. Her instincts were telling her this was likely a trap and she was completely foolish for coming here alone, but suddenly her blood ran cold as the light from her wand reflecting into a pair of eyes along the farthest wall.
"Who-who-who's there! C-c-c-come out now into the light were I can see you!" She stammered angrily, pointing her wand directly at the blinking glowing orbs. Slowly, the clip-clop of heeled shoes grew louder as the figure began a slow approach.
And there was laughter. Unmistakable, manic laughter. Hermione would recognize it anywhere.
Hermione's entire body went rigid, her blood to ice, when her companion finally made their presence known.
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione shrieked, the bolt knocking the mangled wand out of the hands of the intruder.
"I should have known this would be a trap…Bellatrix."
Now in full view, the magnificent visage that was Bellatrix Lestrange, stood dangerously close to Hermione. Wearing a short black tattered dress complete with an impossibly tight leather corset, her slick black hair fell in a straight veil down the pointed frame of her pointed face. Deep chestnut irises stared back at Hermione from under a pair of heavy eyelids. The dark witch held both arms up in a gesture of surrender, a Cheshire grin dancing on the blood red lips of her face. Her ivory skin was nearly translucent in the faint light of Hermione's pointed wand.
"I…I can't believe it…it's you!" Bellatrix practically gushed. "I feel as though I am looking at a ghost!" Bellatrix rushed toward Hermione, pressing a hand to each of the brunette's cheeks, pulling her face closer toward the older witch. Bellatrix closely examined the brunettes face, running a hand through her auburn curls. "The resemblance…my God…it's remarkable!"
Hermione struggled under the death eaters grip, and pushed Bellatrix away, training her wand at the woman's chest. "What the hell is going on! No harangues of mudblood or filth? Are you imperioused! Why won't you fight back!"
Bellatrix took two steps back and took another long scrutinizing look at the younger witch's face. "Hermione…is it really you?"
"Don't be so daft! You know that it's me! You attacked me and my…friends…in the department of mysteries a year ago!"
Bellatrix paused for a moment before beginning to anxiously pace. "Is that right? Well, I'm dreadfully sorry about that. Duty calls you know."
"What!" Hermione was utterly bewildered and she lowered her wand. "Before you decide to kill me, just tell me why I was told to come here tonight. Why do I have that old book in my possession?"
Stopping in her tracks, the female death eater gave Hermione a curious look. "Kill you?" Bellatrix asked, one of her eyebrows raised. "Why would I ever do such a thing?"
Hermione's lip curled into an annoyed sneer. "Because…you're a death eater, it's what you do. Killing without conscience? Prune the filth of our kind?" She shrugged.
Bellatrix walked over to the rickety bed frame on the opposite side of the room and gently sat down on it. She touched the tips of her pointer fingers together in a thoughtful gesture. "Oh dear…how do I put this…there's something that you need to know about me…"
The young witch rolled her eyes. "And what, pray tell, might that be?"
"You see Hermione…I'm your Godmother."
"My…Godmother…" The brunette was visibly stunned, her jaw slackened like putty. She desperately wanted to faint there and now, or wake up from this nightmare. Bellatrix nodded before standing up again.
"Oh yes…I knew your mother very well Hermione…all those years ago she had named me your godmother…but after she had gone into labor…I was told that you had died with her…but now, it is apparent that you are very much alive and I…have missed so much in your life thus far...Helen would've been so proud of you." Hermione could've sworn in that moment she saw the notorious death eater wipe a small tear from her eye.
"Helen…as in Helen Gaunt…from that book…she is my mother?"
Bellatrix scoffed. "Surely you gathered that already silly girl! I figured it would've been perfectly clear to a witch as bright as you…you, my dear, are Hermione Gaunt, the last living heir of Slytherin!"
The realization hit her like a tidal wave. "But that also makes me…"
"Family to the Dark Lord himself!" Cried Bellatrix.
Bile began to rise in her throat. "This has to be some sort of nightmare."
The dark witch reached for something in her corset. "Still unconvinced?" In Bellatrix' outstretched hand lay a neatly folded piece of parchment. Unfurling it, Hermione began to tremble as the words contained upon it slowly made themselves known.
"This is my…birth certificate!" She began to read aloud, "This is to certify that a Certificate of Birth has been filed for Hermione Athena Gaunt born on 19 September 1979. Daughter of Helen Clytemnestra Gaunt (deceased) and Regulus Arcturus Black (deceased). Filed 20 September 1979." She flinched as she read Regulus' name.
"Yes…my bastard cousin was indeed your father…they were never married…" Bellatrix snarled at the thought of Regulus. "…but your mother…oh your beautiful mother…you have her eyes, her hair, oh it's as if she's still here with us!" She cried out.
Every ounce of color had drained from the brunette's cheeks. "Not only am I a Gaunt, but a Black as well?"
"Toujours Pur my dear Hermione." Bellatrix practically purred. "Surely you didn't think for once that a pair of biblically named muggles would impart upon you a name as rich in history and as eloquent as Hermione did you? The Gaunts long had an affinity for classical names."
"No…" Hermione shook her head in frustration. "But why now! Why couldn't you have told me this sooner! You say you're my godmother, and clearly you seem to care for me, but you have undoubtedly tried to murder me in the past!"
To Hermione's surprise the death eater fell to her knees on the floor, grasping both of Hermione's wrists. "Yes but only because I was unaware of your true identity at the time!" Bellatrix began to speak in a rushed whisper, practically begging the young witch for forgiveness. "The potent Fidelius charm placed upon your birth was broken a mere two months ago! For the last 19 years Lord Voldemort himself kept your identity and survival hidden from the entire world. No one knew of your true identity. He was your secret-keeper, until he had bestowed upon me the Gaunt Family History book. With that simple act, the charm was abruptly broken and everything was unmistakable. As if a long overcast sky had suddenly become clear! He even had your birth certificate tucked into its pages. The Fidelius charm the Dark Lord cast is bound to the text itself!" She sucked in a deep breath of air through her teeth. "I had longed for two months to finally meet you. And here you are. At long last I can see within you, your mother's beauty reformed…"
"Why would Vold—the Dark Lord do such a thing?"
The sounds outside the shack were at nearly a roar when Bellatrix' eyes went wide in fear. "Come now we must go. It is no longer safe for us to talk here. Take my arm!"
"What?"
"The Aurors, they will find us here, we must flee! Take my arm!"
For a moment Hermione considered running; screaming for help. The Aurors would burst through the rotting doors and capture the wily death eater. Send Bellatrix back behind the wrought iron bars of Azkaban to rot. Looking into the older witch's eyes, Hermione could see not only desperation, but also compassion. Bellatrix was genuinely worried, her eyes boring holes into the young witch. With a trembling hand Hermione finally reached over and grasped onto the dark witch's forearm, and was violently pulled away from the decrepit interior of the shack.
They came to land on the vast front lawn of the lavish Malfoy Manor.
"Quickly now, they are expecting us!" Bellatrix looked down at the dark mark branded upon her forearm; it was pulsating. "He will be here any moment! Hurry!" Hissed Bellatrix, starting at a quick clip toward the front doors.
"WAIT!" Hermione nearly screamed at the dark witch. "I am about to follow you into a vipers nest. How can I be so certain that everyone in there will not simply eat me alive once I enter?"
Bellatrix frowned and spoke in a manner that was rife with fury. "Because if any of them so much as lay a hand on you, I will flay them first!"
They eyed her like wolves watching a lamb being brought to slaughter as she followed the dark witch around the enormous marble table of the dining room. She recognized each and every one of them: Fenrir, Wormtail, Yaxley, Antonin, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Crabbe, Goyle, the Carrows, and finally the Malfoys; Narcissa and Lucius. The sat still as stagnant water, their hollow eyes tracking her every movement. Bellatrix stayed very close to Hermione, eventually placing a hand upon her shoulder, easing her to a halt.
The air unexpectedly grew foul as a black cloud of smoke swirled uncontrollably around the table. None of the seated death eaters moved a muscle as the Dark Lord himself finally materialized at the head of the table. His face was even more inhuman that Hermione remembered; veins and arteries pulsated under his pallid and virtually lucid skin, his reptilian eyes held narrow appearing like mere slits, and his flat nose with equally flat nostrils opened and closed tightly with each inhalation. Hermione froze in complete and utter fear. Lord Voldemort gave Hermione a smile as he started to approach her.
"My Lord!" Lucius Malfoy stood up with a defiant shout. "We must disarm her…I move that we take the girl's wand. She cannot be trusted! We do not yet know where her loyalties lie!"
The Dark Lord looked to Hermione. "We are but mere guests in Master Malfoy's grand home Hermione, we mustn't forget our manners…go on, give him your wand."
She slowly pulled the wand from her jeans and tossed it onto the table where it landed with a clatter; Lucius snatched it hastily upon contact with the marble.
Lord Voldemort motioned toward an empty chair near the head of the table. "Please take a seat Hermione…you have arrived at a most opportune moment." He turned toward Bellatrix, who was standing amongst the shadows in the far corner of the room, her rigid appearance exhibiting no change in emotion upon being addressed by Voldemort. Her watch rested protectively on Hermione. This took the young witch by great surprise. "You have done well in bringing her here." His attention returned to the young brunette, sitting nervously amongst the death eaters. "This meeting will be brief I assure you my dear…but while you are here you must listen closely. What Bellatrix has undoubtedly revealed to you tonight, is entirely truth. You are indeed the daughter of my dearly departed cousin Helen, and by virtue of that, you are my family. My blood."
A/N 2: Yeah, yeah, yeah a little self-insertion in this chap yes…but moreso that I think dear Miss Emma Watson's Hermy looks like she is built to run. But that's just me. XD
A/N 3: (Added 30 November 2010) Totally forgot to acknowledge the homage to Repo!: The Genetic Opera in this chapter. If you haven't seen it, it's an awesome movie and I'll readily admit I was listening to the soundtrack when I wrote the scene. I subconsciously fashioned it after Repo. So to "Lady Knight King of Spades" you rock and thanks for reminding me to add this little disclaimer. :)
OH and may I offer pre-emptive ups to people that know why I chose Helen's name. :D
Til next time, ttfn…tata for now!