For the upcoming weeks, Hermione was learning Occlumency with the High Reeve. He exhausted her to the point of sobbing every day, making her relive the worst moments in her life, repeating that it's the only way he'll make her fight back. Hermione wanted to believe she was getting better with each passing Legilimency session, but the truth was a bit different – she was so drained by the constant attacks on her mind that she didn't get the time to recover from, and she could tell her performance got worse as time went on.
"Let's take a break for a few days," the High Reeve said after what must've been their twentieth lesson. "You're losing your focus, perhaps rest will help."
"Okay," was all Hermione said, relieved that she will have a chance to not worry about the horrors she'll have to relive tomorrow, even if it was going to last only a few days.
Hermione felt as if the High Reeve now knew everything there was to know about her, every little secret she had been trying to keep was exposed to him, every precious moment with her loved ones was no longer just her own, all her fears and anxieties about herself, all her being was a book, opened wide for him to read in the language only he and she could understand.
The only thing she managed to hide in the very corner of her consciousness was her teenage infatuation with a certain blond Slytherin. She hid that part of her well and deep inside, so well and deep she was even beginning to doubt that crush was ever real. It was. But she would never let him know that.
Even though Legilimency lessons took only a few hours of her time a day, she would feel so weary afterward that she didn't have the energy to do anything else the remaining of the day, only read and cuddle on the sofa with Crookshanks on her lap in the library of her room. Now that she had a few free days, she finally had the time to spend in the lab.
It was one of the last days of her break when she was working on a technique to make a stronger sleeping draught potion using fewer ingredients, but so far, it wasn't working out very well. She had already tried to make it five times but all she got was a purple mess. Crookshanks was also somewhat nervous that day, meowing at her, begging for attention, following when she went to the dungeons, and scratching the door when she closed them before the cat's nose. Annoyed with the mewls and the scratching Hermione decided to let him in and Crookshanks spent the whole day with her in the lab, getting purple dye on his fur when he threw one of the experimental vials to the ground.
Hermione groaned, picking Crookshanks up and taking him to her bedroom to give him a bath. She wasn't spared the vicious attack of a cat thrown in the water, and her hands were now littered with bloody scratches. When she finished washing him and wrapped him up in a towel, Crookshanks mewled sadly in her arms like the drama queen he was. She brought him down to the living room and sat him in front of the fire so he could warm up a bit.
She stared at the smoldering fire, deep in thought, when suddenly the orange glow turned to roaring green flames, and Crookshanks ran away from her lap, roaring and hissing. Hermione stood up with her wand in hand just as someone appeared in the fireplace.
A tall figure stepped out of it, clad in Death Eater's robes with a skull-like mask on their face. Hermione stared at the person, dumbfounded. Then, in one swift move, they took off their mask, and Hermione immediately recognized the dark-skinned black-haired man, looking around and smiling at her, recognizing her too.
"Lovely to see you, Granger," Blaise Zabini said, looking at the wand in her hands, then up at her. He was smiling but upon closer inspection she noticed his eyes were serious. He asked her if the High Reeve was at home.
"He should be in his office, I thi—"
Zabini's gaze slipped past her, and she heard a voice say, "I'm here. What is it?"
She turned around and saw the High Reeve standing by the door, then getting closer to Zabini. Both men exchanged a meaningful gaze.
"They're planning to pay you an unexpected visit," Zabini explained. "And I'm paying you an unexpected visit to tell you about it."
The High Reeve raised his eyebrow. "Who? Voldemort?"
Zabini shook his head. "Crabbe and Pucey, the usual beasts."
The High Reeve's lips tightened into a straight line. "What do they want."
Zabini's eyes shot to Hermione, then back at the High Reeve. "They wish to… give you something."
"Give me what?"
Zabini kept looking at Hermione before speaking, trying to say with his eyes that she shouldn't be here to listen to this conversation.
"Rather give you… someone. If you know what I mean."
Hermione saw the High Reeve's back tense as he addressed her, "Granger, leave us."
"What? But maybe I can help—" she began.
"If I need your sodding help, I will let you know. Leave," he said in a harsh tone.
Hermione decided not to stretch it any longer, so she left, the door slamming after her with a whoosh of the High Reeve's spell. She tried to listen to at least a little bit of what they were saying, but they must've cast a Muffliato because she couldn't hear a thing.
So she went back to her bedroom, only then remembering that Crookshanks was still in the living room with the two Death Eaters.
The door to her bedroom opened not even ten minutes later, and the High Reeve entered her room, his expression controlled but his eyes wide.
"Dress up," he told her.
Hermione stood up and went to her wardrobe, frowning at him. "Is it serious? Will they try to use Legilimency on me?" she asked.
He went to stand next to her, looking into the closet, and hurriedly threw one piece of clothing after another on the ground, searching for something she could wear while explaining to her, "No, they won't touch you and won't do anything to you without my permission. They only want to see you to make sure that I actually have you, so you must act accordingly." The High Reeve grabbed a dark green short-sleeved dress. "Put this on," he told her.
Hermione took the dress, looking up at him. He was so close, and she got once again reminded of how tall and huge he was. They hadn't been in such proximity since Voldemort's visit, and Hermione felt her head going a little dizzy.
"You will keep your head down and you will not look at any of them, even if they address you. You will not speak to them no matter what they say. If I ask you something, you address me as Master, if I say something you don't like, you don't dare to talk back. You obey me and they must believe it, is that clear?"
You think a filthy little Mudblood like you can disobey me?
"Yes. Crystal clear," Hermione said after a moment.
She wanted to go and change, but he grabbed her wrist with his fingers, the skin-to-skin contact making electric shockwaves run down her bloodstream. Hermione gasped, surprised by that sensation, then lifted her head up to stare into his storm-clouded eyes.
"Will I need to silence you?" he asked quietly, threateningly.
Hermione frowned. "What? No, of course not, I won't tell them anything… unless they get into my mind or something."
A muscle twitch in his jaw. "No one will. No one would dare to touch what's mine. Whatever you see, you keep your wits about you, Granger."
"Yes, alright," she said, a little impatiently. "Now will you leave so I can change?"
He stared at her for another moment, then left.
Once she was ready, she went out, and he was waiting outside her door, looking her up and down. "Leave your wand in your room," he said. She frowned but did as he told her.
She watched out the window as two Death Eaters together with a third dark figure went through the gates of Malfoy Manor, and down the main road. When they entered the Manor, the first thing that they saw was not the High Reeve or Zabini, it was Hermione. She knew them both from their time at Hogwarts and now they stared at her as if she was a piece of meat, they laughed at her after demeaning her with their words, calling her a Mudblood more times than using any other word.
They went to the living room where they got some drinks while Hermione stood aside, trying not to draw either of their attention. Zabini talked to the two guests, laughing with them at their stupid jokes even though Hermione believed it wasn't honest. The High Reeve lost his composure only once, when after a few drinks Pucey went straight to Hermione, smiling wickedly like an idiot, saying something along the lines of: Well doesn't the Mudblood look pretty, all dolled up for our dark prince, and he went in trying to touch her, but the High Reeve's hand shot up, grabbing Pucey by his throat and slamming him away from her.
"Keep your hands away if you still want to have them, Pucey. You're not allowed to touch what's mine," the High Reeve growled. Pucey whimpered pathetically, nodding his head, and the High Reeve released him.
She tried not to listen, she tried to keep her head down, but then her attention was drawn to the other person Crabbe and Pucey brought with them. Crabbe pushed that person to the middle of the room, taking off the hood, and Hermione saw the young woman's shoulders shake, her black bob tousled.
Hermione's eyes widened. "Pansy…" she whispered, but then remembered she promised to be silent.
But what was Pansy doing here? How did these two get her from Hogwarts? Was it Voldemort's doing? Was Hogwarts attacked and she was the only one left who knew nothing about it? Where was Harry? Has Voldemort captured him?
Was the High Reeve hiding all of this from her on purpose?
Crabbe kicked Pansy and she whimpered in pain. Nobody did anything, nobody stood in his way. Hermione wanted to get there and stop Crabbe, hex him into another dimension, to take Pansy back to Hogwarts, to save her… But she met the High Reeve's eyes. He was looking straight at her as if reading her thoughts. At first sight, he looked bored if not slightly irritated, but she read a different message from his gaze – keep your wits about you.
"Granger, it's time for you to go to your room," the High Reeve told her.
What? How could he expect for her to leave Pansy with them? How could he ask her this? Hermione gritted her teeth, ready to protest, but she heard Crabbe say, "Oh, come on, let the Mudblood stay, I bet she'll enjoy the show."
The High Reeve went to her, threatening, "Not a word from you. Understood?"
Hermione swallowed, looking into his eyes. "Yes, Master."
He turned away from her. Crabbe grabbed the back of Pansy's neck. "Hey, look, Pans, this is your old friend," He said the High Reeve's name, "don't you want to ask him for help?"
Just then, Pansy saw the High Reeve and her eyes widened in horror. She went to him, stumbling over her feet, falling to her knees before him, and clutching a corner of his black cloak in her hands. Pansy sobbed out his name over and over and over again, and it echoed through Hermione's ears.
She had never seen Pansy in such a state, she had never heard her sound so pitiful, so desperate, and she knew she never would again. The High Reeve stared down at the woman before him with an indifferent expression while Crabbe and Pucey laughed at her.
"Too bad you decided to betray the Dark Lord, Pans," Pucey snickered.
"Or maybe not too bad because now we can have a nice view," Crabbe neighed. "What are you going to do with her?" he asked the High Reeve, grinning madly.
"There is only one way to deal with traitors," the High Reeve said.
Hermione watched it all stiffened in horror. The High Reeve raised his wand, diverting it at Pansy. The cruciatus curse came from his lips more like a prayer. Pansy screamed, her body twisting and turning on the ground, she was trying to move away from the pain, her nails dug into the floorboards, breaking and bleeding.
Hermione awoke from the trance with the thought that she too was tortured in this very same room five years ago.
"No, stop, what are you doing!" she yelled, running to the High Reeve, ready to stop him with nothing but her bare hands.
Hermione didn't even get to the second step when the High Reeve waved his wand lazily in her direction without even looking at her, and she felt her body go numb, stiff, dropping to the ground with a heavy thump.
The High Reeve resumed the torture on poor Pansy while all Hermione could do was watch – she was immobilized, she was silenced, forced to witness the torment of her friend. She felt hot tears run down her cheeks.
Pansy screeched until her voice gave out and still, she writhed with pain on the floor while the High Reeve watched his own doing with a certain fascination – Hermione realized with dread that he was enjoying it, the torture, the screams. At this moment, he didn't seem bored, he looked satisfied, focused purely on causing harm, on destroying. If Hermione ever believed there was anything good left in him, she had been horribly wrong.
Hermione remembered that Pansy and he were friends since their first year in Hogwarts. They ate lunch together, they celebrated Christmas together, and Hermione had heard rumors they even dated sometime during their fifth year. Then how could he torture his childhood friend so mercilessly, how could he enjoy her suffering so much? Hermione couldn't wrap her head around this, it didn't make sense, none of it made sense.
And yet it did. The High Reeve finally preceded his reputation in Hermione's eyes. She finally saw him for who he truly was – a monster, feared by everyone, befriended by no one. He had no friends, he had only enemies – and victims.
Will I become his victim too?
Pansy's screams overlapped with Crabbe's and Pucey's laughs who seemed to be thoroughly entertained by what was unfolding before them. She was not on her back, her screeching almost animalistic, dragging her nails through the skin on her face wrecked by brutal agony. Pansy said the High Reeve's name once, twice, then the one last time.
Hermione knew she begged for nothing – dragons do not feel mercy.
Pansy opened her mouth to say his name again, her very last word on this earth, but the High Reeve's curse echoed through the Manor.
"Avada Kedavra."
One final tear ran down Pansy's cheek bloodied, and with that, she was dead, without even having the time to recognize Hermione.