Mipsy tended to Hermione for twenty-four hours, pouring a large quantity of restorative potions into her mouth as well as almost exhausting the Malfoy family dittany supply on Hermione's arms.
The blood letting scar healed within hours, but the Dark Mark didn't respond to the dittany at all, it refused to heal quickly and the pain potions only took the edge off the pain. The dark magic embedded in the tattoo infused the blood, flesh and bones with its destructive force, rendering it impossible to ever remove without causing the death of the person who wore it. It was a tattooed shackle, tying Hermione to Voldemort as long as he was in power.
Hermione slept. Her mind and body were exhausted from the trauma. Mipsy also used dreamless sleep on Hermione twice in the space of a day to keep her peaceful and quiet. Rest healed the mind and soothed trauma.
Lucius was curiously absent. He had carried Hermione to his room and then apparated away with a sharp crack, leaving her in the care of the house elf.
When Hermione awoke the next morning she wanted to see Lucius. She didn't know how to ask for him, now, after everything which had happened.
He was her husband. How absolutely strange that sounded.
The only clue to her new status, beside the shiny white gold band around the ring finger of her left hand, was Mipsy addressing her as 'Mistress' and a distinct lack of threats from Lucius not to leave the room sent via the elf.
Hermione rose and dressed in the clothes which had appeared in the massive closet, all of them in her size. There were no muggle clothes at all, nothing even remotely casual. It was clear she had an image to uphold as Lucius's wife, regardless of her prior status as a mudblood. Again she marvelled at how it all seemed to have been erased. Her muggle birthright, her muddy blood - all of it gone, as if it had never existed.
Eventually she chose dress robes in dark green. It was strangely cathartic to wear Slytherin green, poetic even. Hermione sat at the dressing table on a plush, throne-like chair in rose gold, while Mipsy did her hair because she wouldn't allow Hermione to touch her own hair, declaring that only Mipsy knew how to take care of Hermione's riotous curls. It was true that Hermione's hair had never looked better, gleaming corkscrew ringlets fell down her back in perfect perfusion and framing her face in a very pleasing manner.
Hermione simply allowed the small creature to have her way, it seemed to give Mipsy great pleasure to serve her.
"Where is the Master, Mipsy?" She asked at last, feeling very foolish somehow, gauche and awkward.
Did a ceremony truly change everything? She'd been a prisoner less then twenty-four hours previously and now she was the Lady of Malfoy Manor? How could things change so drastically?
The aching burn in her left arm reminded her that her marriage certainly wasn't the biggest of the changes which had occurred.
She was a death eater.
Never in her wildest nightmares had she ever considered the possibility that Voldemort would mark her! He hated her kind! She was a mudblood. But why then had he married her to his right hand man? None of it made sense!
The Dark Lord's desire to use her as a spy and have her breed the next Malfoy heir was like something out of a muggle novel.
"The Master be with the Dark Lord, Mistress." Mipsy replied in her high pitched, sing-song voice as she hovered at the back of Hermione's head, at least four feet off the ground. Her skillful fingers were moving rapidly to braid a small section of hair around the crown of Hermione's head, which left the rest to hang enticingly down her back.
You're a death eater now, a member of the brethren, you could summon your husband if you so wish. The thought brought a small smile to Hermione's lips, which was quickly extinguished when she realized that the Dark Lord wouldn't be pleased with her using her newly acquired mark for such trivial reasons.
"Is there be something the Mistress be wanting?" Mipsy asked after a few moments of silence from Hermione.
She shook her head, trying to appear calm and unworried.
She needn't have worried about summoning Lucius, for a moment later a sharp crack of apparition startled her.
She froze as she came face to face with him. He was magnificent and she found herself staring. Could this man really be her husband? It was truly unfair that such an evil man was so beautiful. His mane of platinum blond hair was secured at his nape with a leather thong. This accentuated his features to perfection; aristocratic nose, cheekbones and square chin. His gaze, as always, undid her. Hermione felt supremely naked beneath that stare, as if he could see everything about her. Even her most secret desires, her need for him, everything she wanted hidden.
"Good morning, wife." He said pointedly in a smooth sardonic tone and she flushed with embarrassment, heat rising in her cheeks. He liked the color, it illuminated her eyes.
Mipsy curtsied to Lucius and then to Hermione before she popped out of sight.
Hermione didn't know what to say. She was uncertain of her standing and Malfoy's intense, penetrative gaze did strange things to her heart. She was lightheaded at the sight of him.
"Are you well?" Lucius asked, walking towards her seated form at a slow, leisurely pace. Long, strong, impossibly elegant fingers curled beneath her chin, lifting her face to his. Their magic hummed happily, rushing through their blood pleasurably at the touch of their skin. There were barely discernible murmurs, as though they were both a little insane - pagan whispers, promises of untold pleasure which awaited them in their marital bed. For they had yet to consummate their marriage and although somewhat settled, their magic called for completion.
Hermione nodded jerkily, her heart thundering wildly. "I'm better now." She replied, her voice startlingly husky.
"Look at me." He commanded, when her gaze refused to meet his.
Hermione hated that she obeyed him without question, raising her eyes to his immediately. Arctic blue regarded her quizzically, causing her heartbeat to accelerate rapidly. Hermione licked at her dry lips and Lucius's gaze darkened noticeably as he followed the movement with a predatory stillness which terrified and excited her in equal measure.
An infinitesimal smile playing at the corners of his lips as he took a visual inventory of her features with far more concentration than the task deserved, his thumb rubbed the skin of her chin with gentle firmness.
He released her abruptly and stalked towards the window, his hands clasped behind his back. She saw the flash of his wedding ring as he did so and her belly fluttered at the visual sign that he was hers. He gazed out, his profile cutting a handsome silhouette against the darkened sky and deep green trees. The air was heavy with the promise of rain, storm clouds gathering rapidly on one side of the sky, while the other side was bright and sunny. The darkness and light were destined to collide, creating the perfect storm. Lucius regarded it blindly, his mind occupied with a multitude of problems. Preparing the mudblood for her duties was a dangerous cauldron of possible pitfalls.
"I'm expected to inform you of your duties now that your status has changed." He turned to regard her once more."The Dark Lord expects you to begin training immediately. Occlumency and Legilimency as well as the art of dueling."
Hermione swallowed hard and rose to her feet. She tried not to notice how Lucius's mercurial eyes dropped to her breasts and then ran over her entire figure in a possessive manner. A thrill shot through her as his icy gaze glittered with approval as he took in her dress robes. He looked like he wanted to eat her. Hermione avoided his gaze once again, seeking to clear her mind.
Lucius stifled the surge of satisfaction he felt as he surveyed the little mudblood who was now his wife. She looked mouthwateringly beautiful in robes the color of his childhood house at Hogwarts. Its hue brought out the highlights in her hair and accentuated her golden eyes which practically begged for her to be devoured.
He still had an undeniable urge to break the little witch, in the most pleasurable of ways. The more he had her, the more he wanted her.
She was speaking, her soft, breathless voice made his cock harden and then a breathy sigh escaped her which made his member twitch in response.
"As you now know, I'm fairly proficient at Occlumency. I've never tried Legilimency however."
Lucius made an effort to regroup his wayward thoughts. Somehow his own skills at Occlumency were severely tested with this witch.
"How are you at dueling?" He asked at last.
"Honestly? I'm awful, I don't fight. We usually run. Harry and Ron practice with each other, but I'm always busy organizing …everything. I'm the brains of our operation, you see, not the brawn."
Lucius sneered, his disdain for her friends obvious. "As a member of the golden trio, I'd have thought it would have been a priority for them to teach you to fight. But its no matter, it is their loss. You will begin to learn to duel immediately."
"Who will teach me? You?" Hermione sounded hopeful.
"We all will. The only way to become a skilled duelist is to practice with a wide variety of opponents."
Hermione gasped. "Even Bellatrix?" Fear quickened her pulses. Bellatrix was reputed to be a deadly duelist, almost unparalleled, except for the Dark Lord's General.
"Even she must obey the Dark Lord." Lucius replied, a smirk twisting his lips. "He called a meeting with all of us this morning where he stressed the importance of keeping you alive and indeed, of protecting you. Bella will not hurt you again.You are no longer a mudblood, but my wife. Therefore you have taken on the status that the name of Malfoy has given you. But be prepared. They will fuck with you, taunt you, test you - even ridicule you - but you won't be seriously harmed in any way. You're one of us now and that means you're due a baptism of fire which will stop just short of mortal injury. Be wary of accepting anything from any of them, they're not above nasty hexes or even a curse or two. So, always be alert." Lucius told her.
Hermione swallowed hard. It sounded terrifying and yet, this was a chance for her to learn more information for the Order. She would enter the wolves den with her head held high, she would not cower before them. She'd never been particularly meek and even though Lucius managed to reduce her to a puddle of needful goo, she'd be damned if the rest of the Death eaters would see her belittled or weak. She was after all Hermione Granger, a third of the golden trio and Lady Malfoy as of the previous night.
Unconsciously her chin lifted while she contemplated training with the blood thirsty brethren and Lucius smirked, his eyes glittering with approval.
"Well done." He murmured approvingly.
There was a heavy silence in the room, broken only by the pagan whispers. It was dark magic, ancient and binding. It was calling to them, amplifying the already present lust in both of them.
Lucius's mercurial gaze glittered, a muscle jumping ever so slightly in his jaw. Hermione drew in an unsteady breath, her lips parted in unconscious invitation.
They came together as smoothly as fine silk, Lucius grabbed Hermione and pushed her up agisnt the wall and with a whispered sigh, she surrendered, tilting her face up for his brutal kiss.
She whimpered and he groaned as their mouths met, their magic surging and melding at the contact. For the first time, she deepened the kiss, licking at his lips hungrily, pleading for his dominance. Small sounds of pleasure were muffled by his tongue as he claimed her mouth entirely, his hand clasped firmly around her neck.
It was fast and hard. Lucius lifted Hermione as if she weighed nothing at all, his hips holding her in place against the wall while he pushed her skirts out of the way, clearing a path so that his hand could slide between her legs. He pushed aside her dainty lace underwear and his fingers found her needy cunt. He growled and bit her lip when he found her soaking wet and slippery with need. There were no words, nothing except heat, touch and teeth.
Hermione clung to him, her arms around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair.
There was desperation in every move they made, all that mattered was their joining.
Lucius left her mouth to nip and bite his way down her neck to the swell of her breasts while he released his throbbing cock and rubbed it through her folds before he dropped Hermione onto it, impaling and claiming her in one swift stroke. Lucius groaned at the sublime sensation of being buried inside Hermione's tight, pulsing sheath. He fucking loved being inside this witch and he didn't know how he'd gone his whole life without the sensation of his cock held inside her tight little body.
She cried out, gripping him harder and urging him on as she guided his mouth to her breasts. He tugged her bodice down to reveal her pert breasts, nipples achingly hard. He fed on them like a man possessed as Hermione undulated against him, riding his cock with utter abandon. There was no longer any pretense between them that this wasn't exactly what they both wanted and needed. Everything fell away; the past, prejudices, hatred, preconceptions - it left just them and their unstoppable attraction to one another, the addiction of their flesh.
Their magic pulsed and merged and their wedding bands heated until they glowed with the explosive energy of their bond.
Orgasm was rapid and savage. It swept over them both, burning under their skin and along every single nerve in both their bodies, until, like a tsunami it crashed over them, pulling them both asunder and remaking them as one.
Their climax rose up, crested and crashed again and again, with no sign of it abating. It was the single most soul destroying moment Lucius had ever experienced in all his varied sexual encounters, it was as if he was shattered and remade around this young woman, this witch who stirred his blood like no other. It was as if he absorbed her essence into himself. She was now a part of him, it really was as simple as that.
Hermione couldn't fathom the enormity of this experience. It was too much, more than ever before, Lucius wasn't merely inside her, he was now a part of her. As if he'd become melded to her being. The pleasure was all encompassing, it burned, ebbed and flowed like molten lava, sealing them together with indescribable heat.
.
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.
The next few days were an eye opener for Hermione. The death eaters were undoubtedly morally corrupt, but they possessed a loyalty towards each other like no other. They acted like nothing more than a large, dysfunctional family. Teasing and sniping at each other at each turn. Tricking and poking fun almost constantly.
Voldemort was their leader but also acted like a macabre father figure of sorts, a demanding father who gave pain and death as a punishment as easily as a normal human father would give out hugs and sweets. Strangely, life was all the sweeter because of imminent threat of death or torture, it was as though walking a knife edge magnified any pleasure, making it unbearably beautiful.
Bellatrix sneered at Hermione, when they'd first come face to face, but she'd made no more threats.
No one had.
And after a few tentative hours, Hermione began to relax somewhat. They began to include her in their conversations after a couple of days. The thaw towards her had begun simply enough.
Thorfinn and Lestrange were arguing about muggle culture; precisely the contraption which appeared to be nothing more than a box with charmed images trapped inside. Much like the photographs and paintings in the wizarding world. Their confusion came from the application for which it was used. For wizards didn't watch the charmed pictures, it was bizarre to them.
"Why do muggles sit and watch the box?"
About a dozen pairs of eyes turned to Hermione.
She swallowed hard and sat a little forward in her seat beside Malfoy, she was comfortable beside him, safe, claimed - settled and yet in a constant state of arousal. His long fingers toyed with her hair where it tumbled down her back absentmindedly. It was an unconscious desire to touch her at all times. Their joining had confounded them both it seemed.
"It's called a television and it's used for entertainment." She tried to explain.
They all frowned.
"A bit like going to the opera or the Quidditch World Cup - it's fun."
Thorfinn nodded sagely, "I've seen them sit there staring at the box for hours. If its simply for entertainment, why don't they go the the events they watch on the box?"
"Travel is a little harder and more time consuming for muggles, so instead of traveling great distances to see these things in person, they watch it on the Television."
The witches and wizards gathered looked intensely interested. Thorfinn grinned at her in gratitude. " Now it all makes sense. Thank you, Princess."
Hermione flushed a bit at his casual endearment. A soft glow of acceptance blooming in her chest.
After that everyone spoke to her, as if Thorfinn had opened a floodgate allowing them to converse with her.
Being an accepted member of the death eaters meant that certain lines began to blur for Hermione. The figures from her nightmares became people, just like her. They believed propaganda taught to them from infancy, but most of them weren't innately evil. They were trying to protect their world from the ones they perceived as a threat. As much as Hermione wanted to deny it, muggles were a threat to the wizarding world. Throughout history they'd displayed a lack of empathy towards those different from themselves. In the medieval times witchcraft was viewed as dangerous due to the muggles inability to control it, which culminated in the Salem witch trials where hundreds of innocent witches and wizards were burnt to death.
Hermione began to see the other side of the story and she found it unsettling. The death eaters made her feel at home, they accepted her relationship with Lucius and treated her as they did each other.
At Hogwarts, she had fought to have friends and be accepted, to have a place among them and then she'd paid for the privilege of that friendship by using her brains to aid Harry and the order. Hermione had never been accepted just for being herself.
But here, she was unquestionably part of them, her place assured. She didn't have to help them, in fact she had much to learn and yet they treated her as theirs. It wasn't some soft and cushy relationship where she felt safe, it was mutual respect and a camaraderie which left a warm glow despite herself.
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.
.
Lucius hadn't given any warning about when her dueling training would begin, he simply started firing non lethal stinging hexes at her the next day as they all lounged in another massive drawing room designed to entertain a hundred people. Hermione had discovered that Malfoy Manor was one of the Headquarters for DE and even when the Dark Lord was not in residence they all gathered together much like a family.
The other death eaters laughed as Hermione dodged one stinging hex, stumbled and landed hard behind a sofa. Her expletives could be heard from her hiding place, which made the laugher even louder.
"Hiding will do you no good." Lucius drawled, sauntering towards her hiding place. "Come out, come out, wife, we need to work on your footwork."
Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment and gritted her teeth, before she threw herself out from her hiding place and rolled toward another large piece of furniture casting half a dozen non lethal spells at her husband.
"You can't hide forever, remember you are a witch, cast a shield, Granger."
" Protego!" She said, rising to her feet as Lucius casually threw various hexes and a few non verbal spells her way.
She could feel his magical power batter her shield, it wobbled.
"Hold it, Granger. Fight back!" Thorfinn yelled happily from his seat beside Lestrange. She was undoubtedly the entertainment now.
Lucius quirked an eyebrow at him and smirked as he waited until Hermione's shield wavered again and then casually said; " Flipendo!"
Hermione flew through the air backwards as the hex hit her squarely. Lucius calmly cast a cushioning charm to stop her hitting the floor and she landed gently on her ass.
"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Bellatrix sneered, glaring at Lucius. "The witch will never learn to defend herself and cause serious damage to her opponent like that!" She walked between Lucius and Hermione. "Care to let me have a go?"
Hermione shuddered, instinctively terrified of this woman.
"I'm not sure it's the best…." Lucius began, only to be cut off by Bellatrix.
"She has to learn to move first, Malfoy, or she will always be useless in battle. I am unparalleled in a duel because I'm an excellent dancer! Moving in battle requires grace, agility and dexterity - something the mudb… Hermione…doesn't have…yet."
Lucius looked thoughtful. "What are you going to do, Bella? Teach her to dance?"
Bellatrix laughed, "That's exactly what I'm going to do."
Hermione stood up and dusted herself off, just to give herself something to divert her attention from the fierce gaze of the witch who had tortured her. It was all an act for there was not even one speck of dust in the entire Manor. The house elves must work tirelessly. "Don't I get a say in this?" She asked at last.
"No." Both Lucius and Bellatrix said in unison.
"Well that answers that." Dolohov sneered. "Dancing lessons for the mu…ggleborn witch. What next? Etiquette classes?"
Thorfinn laughed, a loud booming sound which was filled with genuine mirth. Dolohov glared at him. "Laugh all you want, Fin, but this is all ridiculous! I don't see why we have to…"
"Mind the next words out of your mouth, Dolohov, lest I remove your tongue." Lucius said, his voice icy.
"Come." Bellatrix beckoned to Hermione. Her expression grew impatient when Hermione's feet lagged. She beckoned again, glaring. "I will grow old and die before you get here, witch, come!"
Hermione glanced at Lucius, his expression was carefully blank and no help at all. Did she trust Bellatrix? It didn't seem like she had much choice.
The older witch grabbed Hermione's arm and dragged her forwards, having reached the end of her limited patience. At Hermione's frightened gasp, Bellatrix grinned. "We're on the same side now, mudb… Hermione. We are going to dance! Nothing more."
She summoned an ancient looking grammophone which alighted on a small table which came along with it. It's needle lowered and then the sweet sound of The Blue Danube Waltz resounded within the ballroom.
Bellatrix adopted the usual pose, curtsied to Hermione and offered her a hand. Hermione was speechless. There were chuckles all around the room.
"Bella is a fantastic dancer, she taught a number of us to waltz and duel with equal success. Her means of teaching are sometimes a bit unethical, but they always produce the desired results." Lucius told her dryly, as he seated himself nonchalantly beside his comrades.
Hermione took Bellatrix's hand, the first time she'd voluntarily touched the older witch. There was no cataclysmic event, no death or pain, it was simply a touch.
They clasped hands in the appropriate manner and Hermione spent the next few hours being taught to dance.
After that there were lessons each day in the ballroom where Bellatrix waited for her impatiently. Hermione was a fast learner and within a couple of days she was declared fit for dueling.
During this time Hermione developed a grudging respect for the older witch, they even laughed a few times. Hermione would never forget how Bellatrix had branded her and used the cruciatus curse on her but she understood why it had been done, for there could be no doubt of Voldemort's influence here among the brethren. They all did as they were told and tried to earn favour within the ranks.
Thorfinn took it upon himself to warn Hermione after the first night's lesson had ended with Bellatrix laughing with Hermione over a particularly spectacular trip.
"Be careful," He warned with a smirk. "If Bella does begin to like you and see you as a member of our brethren you will have it bad."
"What on earth do you mean, Rowle?"
"Bellatrix protects those she deems as hers and her methods are seldom ethical. She will teach you to duel and she will teach you to survive the cruciatus, as only she can, but the manner in which its achieved is not very… nice." His wording was underwhelming and Hermione rolled her eyes.
"She's been asked to teach me to survive the cruciatus? By the Dark Lord?"
Thorfinn nodded. "She's the only one who can. She's almost immune to it."
Hermione swallowed hard, fear gripping her belly with icy fingers.
.
.
.
"Come, fly with me." Lucius said spontaneously one evening after a day full of dueling.
Hermione smiled at him but shook her head. "Perhaps I should have mentioned this sooner, my Lord, but I'm terrified of flying. I throw up everytime I'm on a broom."
Lucius smirked, his firm sensuous lips twisting in amusement, as if she'd missed the joke. "We won't be using a broom, Granger. Best you lift that chin and find that famous Griffyndor bravery."
"Malfoy." She said primply, rising to her feet from the chaise lounge where she'd been sitting with her husband moments before.
Lucius raised a brow quizzically.
"My name is no longer Granger, my Lord, but Malfoy."
A slow, tantalizing smile spread across his face, his vivid eyes alight with something Hermione had never seen from him before - pride.
"Indeed." He intoned dryly, his tone at odds with his expression.
"So, how do we fly if not on brooms?"
"It's an ability gifted only to marked death eaters. It's a spell, intricately woven into the mark itself. It allows us to fly. Which of course adds to our fearsome reputation." Lucius's lips twitched.
He held out his hand to her and she stared at it warily.
"Take my hand, Hermione, you'll fly with me to start with and then you'll go alone."
She occluded her fear away, it was becoming second nature to use her gift and she was glad of it.
Hermione took Lucius's hand, closing her eyes briefly at the shimmer of pleasure rushing along her veins at the contact, and laughed as he pulled her closer, along his side.
Lucius loved her shine in her eyes, fear and excitement dancing there in the golden depths.
" Sine fuga angelis!" Lucius said out loud so that Hermione could hear the incantation.
Suddenly they were airborne, without brooms. Lucius's cloak surrounded them dissipating into a plume of inky smoke which cocooned them.
Hermione stared around her wide eyed, as Malfoy Manor fell away and they glided above the lake. Somehow she was not scared with Lucius holding her.
Lucius taught her how to control her flight direction and how to stop. Finally, Hermione did it alone.
" Sine fuga angelis!" She whispered, smiling at her husband.
She soared through the air alongside him, her face split with an ear to ear grin of pure wonderment as she twisted and turned, turning her plume of smoke into a whirlwind.
"Why doesn't everyone just fly, instead of using brooms? It's wonderful!" Hermione said to Lucius as they landed and walked towards the Manor via the smooth jewel green lawns.
Without thinking it through, Hermione kept hold of Lucius's hand after he helped her over a stream, her smaller fingers intertwined with his.
"Unsupported flight is a skill known only to the Dark army. It's a gift." He told her.
Hermione grinned, high on the sensation of flight and the touch of Lucius's hand around hers.
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.
.
One week later Hermione's dark mark burned for the first time. She was alone when it happened, arranging a vase with flowers from the garden. She was moving the vase from the table she'd used to cut and arrange the flowers to the small table beside the bed when she dropped the vase and hissed, clutching her arm in agony. She pulled up her sleeve and stared in horror as the tattoo writhed, the snake moving through the skull as the entire dark mark glowed as if under an ultraviolet muggle light.
Within moments Lucius apparated to her side.
"Come, we must go to him." He took her hand in his and silently and wandlessly apparated them both.
The Dark Lord was in residence at his childhood home in the village of Little Hangleton.
The building was dank, dark and putrid. Its scent was enough to make Hermione retch, but she stifled it using occlumency. She'd never been more grateful for the skill taught to her by her Headmaster and professor.
They apparated directly to the throne like chair Voldemort sat in.
"Welcome, my most faithful servants." He hissed, his sharp teeth showing, eed eyes flashing.
Hermione didn't need reminding, she fell to her knees before the macabre monster and bent her head while Lucius bowed low.
"Aahhh, my newest Death Eater!" Voldemort cooned, beckoning Hermione with his large hand, skeletal and gray, its fingernails long.
She slammed her occlumency walls firmly in place and went forward.
"The reason I summoned you both was to give something to you, Lady Malfoy."
He clicked his fingers and instantly there was a mask floating in front of her, at eye level.
"It is your mask, my dear. Put it on."
Hermione stared for the briefest moment before reaching for the mask. It was almost a blank canvas, remarkably unornamented and almost plain. It had slits for eyes and a mouth filled with teeth as sharp as Voldemort's. It reminded Hermione of a harlequin mask so popular in muggle culture.
"Do you like it?" Voldemort seemed almost eager.
Hermione nodded warily. "Yes my Lord." She replied automatically. "Thank you."
"It is unadorned to set you apart from the others, quite deliberately. You are the very first mudblood I've marked and you will be the last. I wanted to illustrate how special you are, how honored - table rase." Voldemort obviously thought himself benevolent. The last words - Hermione knew them - it was French for a 'clean slate'.
Hermione swallowed back the bile which rose in her throat. She was a traitor.
"I am honored, my Lord." She curtsied low.
Harry and Ron would never forgive her now. The order would brand her the enemy and rightly so.
Voldemort watched eagerly as she lifted the mask to her face and set it in place. It was charmed to fit her face perfectly and she felt it adjust itself over her features before settling in place. It could only be removed by the one who wore it.
It felt odd to be behind one of the masks which engendered such terror amongst the wizarding community. She would be feared if she were seen like this.
Voldemort lazily twirled his wand in a circle, as if he were a particularly ugly version of Cinderella's godmother, and her robes changed. They were now black death eater robes with a deep cowl hood.
Lucius was silent beside her, but his presence steadied her. She wanted to touch him but she didn't dare in Voldemort's presence. It would never do for him to see just how smitten she was with her new husband.
Hermione felt the weight of the robes metaphorically, they weighed more than she could bear. Dark magic clung to the fabric and it called to her on some deeply buried subliminal level she didn't want to examine too closely. Sometimes she imagined that the Dark mark was infecting her being, bleeding its darkness into her veins.
Since Bella had started training her in ernest she'd found herself drawn to her fellow death eaters and the dark arts more with each passing day. Learning to occlude the pain from the cruciatus was the hardest lesson, but Bellatrix was determined to make Hermione impervious to its power.
She'd spent almost an entire week in bed after the first few lessons, but then Bella forced her to try again and again, until finally she'd managed to occlude enough to move and attack while Bellatrix crucio'd her.
The older witch's glee at her success cemented her admiration. Their camaraderie had grown until Bella declared that Hermione was an honorary member of their brethren, despite her birth.
Hermione made several friends among the death eaters, although Thorfinn and Bellatrix remained the closest. Dolohov never quite forgave her for being muggleborn, but even he stopped treating her badly once Lucius made it clear that he would kill Dolohov if he continued to abuse Hermione. Greyback was a distant and sinister figure who growled at her when she passed him, they had a silent agreement to avoid each other. The others accepted her because Voldemort had ordered it. Her acceptance fuelled her distancing from her old life, which is exactly what Voldemort had wanted.
"It's time for your first mission, Hermione." The Dark Lord hissed. His scarlet eyes burning with sadistic pleasure. "Be warned that if you fail in this mission, your life is forfeit."
Hermione nodded tensely, she'd expected as much.
"What is my mission, my Lord?" Her voice sounded surprisingly steady and firm, it surprised her.
"You're to return to the Order and capture your friend Harry Potter. He must be alive and unharmed. Do this and you will be first among my death eaters, along with your husband."
Hermione was glad she was deep in her occlumency or she would have crumpled, as it was she trembled violently.
She urged her voice to work. "Yes, my Lord." Her voice didn't even quiver. Beside her, Malfoy shifted closer and he took her hand in his, hidden in the folds of their robes. Lucius was tense, his strong fingers tightening around hers reflexively.
"Lucius, you shall relax the security on Malfoy Manor, reduce the number of wards, allow Potter to attempt a rescue. Severus tells me that the order has been reduced to turmoil since Miss Granger's capture, they have seen the reports I have leaked to the Daily Prophet and they know where she is being held." Voldemort paused, a repulsive smile broadening his mouth until all his reptilian teeth were on full display. "Potter will play right into our hands for he will believe that he is rescuing his friend, when in reality he will be allowing a marked death eater into their safe house."
"My Lord," Lucius said respectfully, "Hermione has nearly finished her training, I would ask that you allow her to complete it, before we follow your plan."
The Dark Lord stared at his favorite death eater for a few moments. "Let it be so." He hissed quietly. "Don't disappoint me, Malfoy."
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Lucius relaxed the security on the estate. Reducing the wards to a bare minimum in order to allow a breach if Potter and his intrepid friends decided they wanted to stage a rescue. Lucius wasn't happy about it, although he didn't truly think that the Order would attempt such a daring rescue right from the lion's den, so to speak.
It happened when she least expected it. Lucius was on a raid and Hermione had just returned to the rooms which she shared with Lucius when quite suddenly Harry appeared in the doorway opposite holding his hand out to her.
"Hermione!"
"Harry! How did you get in?" She asked, not moving.
"We did a trace on you and for the first time in weeks we managed to get through the wards." Harry explained briefly, still holding out the hand she had yet to take.
Behind him she could see Ron.
She hesitated, she had to follow the Dark Lord's orders, this was her mission. But her mind instantly fell on Lucius. How could she just leave? More importantly, did she want to? In the weeks that she'd been living at Malfoy Manor, she'd faced death, torture, and been froced into servitude, but she'd also found friends and a lover who completed her in a way she'd never imagined possible. She was married now and she was surprised to discover that at the moment of reckoning, her loyalty was to her husband.
"Hermione!" Harry called again, urgently, staring at her in a strange manner. "We need to go!" Hermione stared at his hand and then making a decision, she took it. With a sharp tug they apparated directly to Grimmuld place.
Harry hugged her fiercely and kissed her cheek once they were safe.
Ron was there. He hugged her too. He tried to kiss her on the lips but she turned her head and his mouth landed on her cheek.
The magic binding her to Lucius chafed at the almost betrayal, minor though it was and her wedding band burned unpleasantly.
Hermione silently and wandlessly cast a notice me not charm on her dark mark, a glamour. Lucius had been teaching her to use wandless magic and she'd found that she had a natural talent for it.
Ron and Harry stared at her, taking in her healthy appearance, beautifully styled hair and expensive robes. She certainly didn't look like a prisoner. She also didn't look like the Hermione they'd known.
"Why do they refer to you as Lady Malfoy?" Ron asked abruptly, his voice hard and cold. "It's all over the newspapers, 'Mione."
Hermione took a deep breath and held it, her heart breaking. She couldn't lie to them, despite her mission. It was best to rip the band-aid off quickly.
"That's because I am." her voice was raw.
Ron's face contorted in distaste and Harry's grew cold. "You married him? Lucius Malfoy? The man you hated more than anyone else?"
Hermione nodded. "There are many things I've had to do."
"Of course, they forced you." Ron said hopefully, his voice rough with distaste. He hesitated, "Did he rape you?"
"Ronald!" She hissed. "It's really none of your business!"
Harry blinked at her, watching, learning. He looked green. Something was off about their friend. Something had fundamentally changed, but he wasn't sure what exactly.
Harry had always been an observer, the one who noticed the little tells, the things people didn't say.
Hermione was unharmed and she was remarkably well clothed. Her robes were priceless and her hair was shining with care. It was finally tamed and styled in an intricate way known only to wealthy witches with servants or more precisely - house elves.
But something more had changed, it was in the way she moved and the way she carried her head. She was self assured and disdainful. Harry tried to recall where he'd seen the same mannerisms but he couldn't.
"But it's a reasonable question, Hermione, you were captured by snatchers and held by death eaters. They're hardly known for their hospitality to muggleborn visitors." Ron continued.
Hermione bit her lip but otherwise remained eerily calm. Harry knew her well enough to know that she was occluding.
"We have to tell Moody and Shaklebolt that the rescue was successful." Harry said, rubbing his face with his hands tiredly. "They want to see you, Hermione and be debriefed."
"It was relatively easy to get into the Manor and you were alone." Ron commented suddenly. " Why were you alone? Aren't prisoners meant to be guarded?"
Hermione stared at him, her wide golden eyes blank. "Prisoners are guarded, Ron, but as you said, I am Lady Malfoy."
She knew that she should deny everything and act more like her old self, but some part of her marriage rites to Lucius refused to allow her to deny anything to do with her husband.
She hadn't realized just how much she had changed until she was face to face with her old friends. Dark magic had begun to weave its way through her soul, it seemed, starting with her marriage and exacerbated by being marked by the Dark Lord. The brethren were her friends, they were her family. They would die fighting beside her and they asked nothing from her in return. They'd overlooked her birth and embraced her once the dark Lord had married her to his General. These people, her old friends, always wanted something from her. Even now, when she'd just been 'rescued' she was expected to go and meet with Shacklebolt and Moody.
Harry and Ron stared at her in shock. The pride in her voice when she'd spoken of her title was undeniable.
"We didn't rescue you, did we?" Harry said, his voice laced with disgust.
"You're a death eater's whore!" Ron interjected, his pale skin red with anger.
Hermione raised her chin, unconsciously imitating her husband's arrogance. There was a flush of angry color on her ckeeks.
She didn't have time to reply.
" Petrificus Totalus!" A voice Hermione knew all too well said quietly and then she fell forward. She'd been hit in the back by a body binding spell by none other than Ginny Weasley.
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Author's Note; As you can see this story has grown, realistically it could be another chapter longer. So no, it's not finished.