A/N: Thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews!
It's posted earlier than I said I would. Is everyone shocked? Me too!
I post sneak peeks and my Captain's log on tumblr as jessiyl if you are interested in such things.
17
Previously:
Bellatrix watched the activity of Malfoy Manor from beyond the gates, knowing that something was about to happen. She could feel it in the air. It crackled like electricity and made her hair stand on end. There was only one thing that she knew with any sort of certainty. Where ever they were going, whatever they were doing- whether finishing the war or bringing another Malfoy back from beyond the grave- She would be there. Bellatrix would become whatever Hermione needed. Even if what she needed, killed her.
**HGHG**
Hermione eased out from Lucius' embrace as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake him. She suspected that he had taken a potion to be able to be with her last night and now he was sleeping like the dead. Once she was out of his arms, she sat back and looked at the star-shaped wound in his shoulder. It was purple, green, and an ugly shade of brown around the healing skin. It had been knitted expertly, with a spell of Snape's own making, no doubt.
With a kiss to his temple, Hermione drew on a silken robe and padded through the hallways, heading for the kitchen and tea. The night was eerie in the Manor, its sentience and magic beckoning her to explore the hidden depths. After the war was over, if she was still alive, perhaps she would let the Manor lead her wherever it wanted to take her. But for now, she would have to decline and stay on course to the kitchen.
She pushed open the door and froze. Sigurd was leaning against the sink, bloody, with Emmy standing on the counter daubing at his face.
"What happened to you? Where did you go?" She asked, raising her wand and began muttering cleaning and healing charms that knitted the skin of his split lip. Gingerly, she poked the rapidly darkening bruise on his cheek and left eye. Deciding that that bruise would have to wait, she began running her hands over the hard planes of his body, starting with his shoulders. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"I will be fine, Elskede." He stood there, letting her touch him. Watching her worried gaze rake over his body.
"What happened?" she demanded with narrowed eyes and thinned lips. There was no way he was getting off so easily. Her hands ran over the ridges of his abdomen. She felt the muscles clench under her fingers and his quickly indrawn breath ghosted across her temple.
"I had to explain something to someone." Sigurd looked away and grabbed her hands, refusing to let her continue feeling his body. Hermione nearly growled. Evasive to the last.
"Really?" she deadpanned.
"Really," He confirmed with twitching lips. He was obviously not going to tell her what he had been up to.
"You aren't going to tell me, are you?" She asked seriously, her brow furrowing.
"No,"
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want you to know. Not yet."
"Will it make me angry?"
"Perhaps,"
"Is it about me?"
"No. Not this time."
"Okay," she said grudgingly and pulled her hands from his grasp. She recognized that she didn't have any right to demand him to tell her everything. She would have to trust that if it were serious and life-threatening that he would tell her when he could. It made her nervous though, not knowing exactly what was going on. Loose variables sunk ships. Or was that loose lips?
"Emmy, can you make us some tea and lay out a plate of those Victoria sandwiches?" Sigurd asked, his eyes bright with anticipation.
"Yes, Master." She squeaked happily. Delirious over the fact that she was needed.
"Victoria sandwiches in the middle of the night? Is this a habit of yours?"
"There was nothing like this when I was a boy. Everything is different. From the way everyone lives and eats, to the way magic is taught and used." He sat on a stool at the island and Hermione sat next to him, cradling her teacup as soon as it was set before her. She hadn't even thought about the culture shock he was probably experiencing and felt bad because everything he had done since he woke was for her.
"What can I do?" she asked him guiltily.
"There is nothing you can do. It will just take some time to acclimate. It's strange though, knowing that everyone I knew was long dead. I didn't think that would affect me so much."
They both sat in silence sipping on tea and Hermione watched Sigurd devour a whole plate of the strawberry and cream-filled sponge cakes.
"What was it like?" Hermione asked, looking at Sigurd from the corner of her eye.
"What was what like?" he wondered absently. He had licked the tip of his finger and was picking up all the crumbs off the plate before sucking them off his fingertip.
"Your life before you slept,"
"Normal, I guess. My mother was an amazing woman. She cooked well and made sure I was clean and well mannered. I played with all the other children in the village. We were little terrors, baiting the dogs and the grumpy old Viking with only one eye and one leg. I can't even count a number of times I was dragged home by my ear. When I grew older, almost a man, I started listening to my mother and realized her 'stories' were actually prophecies.
Some of them were about how harsh the winter would be or if we were going to lose someone from the community. But mostly they were about a girl and her two friends and their daring adventures in a magic school that would rival anything we could dream of. They would be constantly fighting for their lives. Once I became a man, I started dreaming of that girl. I saw her in every face, in every moment. I was always good at drawing and painting and soon enough I began sketching out the scenes I loved best.
Then one day I saw you and me and my lips and hands were on you, bringing you pleasure. Your face was perfection in ecstasy and it drove me mad knowing that it could never be me. After that, I couldn't see anyone else. I was in love with you and you weren't there. We were separated by a thousand years and a continent. And even if I somehow miraculously managed to defeat the time difference, how could you not already be taken by another man?
My village was bid by our king to invade Britain and knowing that was where you were destined to be, I joined the raiding party. If there was any way to be with you, I needed to start here. For years our band terrorized the natives. One particularly harsh winter found us trapped in Europe. Stuck in a foreign country with no food and the water of the river had frozen behind us. Germany was not a very hospitable place that year. One of the coldest in a hundred years, or so the Bards claimed. Several of the men died and that led our king to admit that we needed to seek refuge with the locals.
I'll never forget when we walked into the small Germanic town. Three-quarters of the population was dwarves and it was all ruled by the beautiful queen who had escaped persecution and death by sleeping in an enchanted glass coffin. That is when my plan began to form. I would build a legacy where my encasement would be safe as time passed.
When the thaw came, we left Germany and continued our onslaught on Britain. As cold as the winter was, the summer was hotter. Regardless of temperature, we wore our leather armor and pressed on, chipping away at the Anglo defenses. I would be lying if I told you I didn't know the moment I stepped on the land from my prophecies. It called to me.
I left the others at the shore and followed the leyline alone. That is when I was ambushed. Under normal circumstances, I would have retreated to my band of brothers to create a strategy but I knew that if I left that hill, I would lose it all. I was afraid that everything I had seen about you would crumble if I didn't hold that land. I was not born a Berserker but in that moment, I felt centuries of the Berserker rage pound through my veins. Losing that battle meant losing you. I would have rather died." Sigurd paused and pushed his teacup toward the tiny elf who had reappeared with more tea and cakes. He shot her a grateful smile and pulled them closer, moaning as he took another Victoria sponge.
"How old were you when you won the Malfoy properties?"
"Twenty-six."
"You didn't look that young in the memory."
"Blood and facial hair have a way of aging a man." He smirked at her and she snorted in amusement, pushing her cup forward to be refilled by a beaming Emmy.
"How old were you when you sealed the encasement?"
"Why? Do you think I am too old for you? I have news for you; Abraxas' is older than me if we are to set the measure by the age of our bodies. Besides I didn't hear any complaints earlier when you were touching me."
"I'm not complaining," She said blushing from the roots of her hair to her shoulders. "I was just curious."
Sigurd leaned in, forgetting the baked goods as he crowded her space. He cupped her face in his large calloused hand and brushed her bottom lip with his thumb.
"Tell me about your son," Hermione said, tearing her eyes from his. "and Tova."
Sigurd sat back, a thoughtful look on his face, and took another bite of cake. Once he swallowed, he turned back to look at Hermione and said, "Things were different back then. Women had power, yes, but they were still heavily reliant on their husbands once children came into the picture. It was easier for the women in our homeland. Those women were terrifying. There wasn't a warrior alive that would go against them. They took care of everything while the men were off pillaging for wealth and status. In foreign lands, our women were stolen, raped, and murdered. Anything that my brethren did to their women, they did to ours. We became extremely protective of our families as you can imagine. I don't blame the natives for fighting back. It is nothing less than what I would have done myself.
Tova was in love with someone else when I offered for her. And I knew. It suited me because I was in love with someone else too. If I married Tova with an understanding that I could never love her, we could both get what we wanted. She needed to marry and be free of her father. She was searching for an old man with kids so that she would be free to remarry after a few years when he died. I was more than an acceptable match. Even then, I was wealthy and powerful. Her father salivated at the prospect of the Malfoy gold.
At first, she was very resistant. She hadn't wanted to have children with her first husband but for me, it was a necessity. The promise was that she would provide me with a male heir and I would leave her to be free after he turned five. I never expected that she would grow to have feelings for me. She asked me not to leave her even though she could have married her sweetheart at the end. I hurt her but she knew from the beginning that I loved you and only you. I couldn't stay.
She was a wonderful mother to my son, Torvald. He was so smart and already on his way to becoming a powerful wizard. His bouts of accidental magic were impressive. He looked like one of the chubby cherubs from the Grecian frescos. Soft blond hair and grey eyes and always, always smiling. If I had stayed, it would have been for him. That is my one regret, that I wasn't a father to him in the ways that it mattered. But I know that Tova would love and protect him and make sure her new husband treated him well too."
"The Malfoys have records dating back to the beginning. I bet we can find out what happened to Tova and Torvald. When this is all over…" She trailed off and swallowed hard.
"I would like that," He cupped her face in his hands again and before she could ask him any more questions, he captured her lips. He was gentle and took his time tasting her lips, running his tongue along the seam, bidding her to open. Wanting to taste him just as bad, Hermione parted her lips and let her tongue dart into his mouth and moaned. He tasted like cake, cream, and berries. But underneath that was a taste she couldn't identify. It was all male and she wanted more.
"I want to marry you," He murmured against her lips before possessing them once more, cutting off any reply she might have given.
Hermione leaned back out of his grasp and said, "If I die tomorrow, I won't be marrying anyone and you will still be responsible to ensure the family line."
"I won't allow that to happen."
"You are not naive, you understand things about war that even we don't. Tomorrow is the final battle for better or worse and if my life is the price I have to pay to rid the world of Voldemort, that is exactly what I will do."
"If you sacrifice yourself, understand that you sacrifice Abraxas, Lucius, and Draco too. Don't you want them to live?" Sigurd asked.
"Of course, I do!" She said unhappily, "But they were dead. I brought them back. I have given them time that they otherwise wouldn't have had. If there was a way for them to live on after my death, I would ensure it. Defeating Voldemort is too important for anyone to be selfish now. Together in life, together in death."
Sigurd nodded in understanding. He too had fought for something that he would rather have died for than give up. But there was no way he would allow her to die. After all, he had ensured it earlier with the help of Hecate and the name she had given him. He would sacrifice anything else. Anything but Hermione.
He stood and slid his hands into her curly hair and brought her mouth back to his, bringing her to her feet as well.
"If we live through tomorrow, I will ask again. And until you say yes, I will do everything in my power to show you that I am wholly devoted to you and you alone. I've loved and waited for you for a thousand years, what difference will another day make?" He whispered and she melted into him. For a war-hardened Viking, he had a sweet way with words.
**HGHG**
Draco ran his hand over his face, tired as hell, but determined. The command tent was already full when he arrived and he didn't miss his chance to glare at Potter, The-Boy-Who-Was-Never-Around-When-You-Need-Him. He nodded politely at Ginny and Neville and did a funny little half bow to McGonagall who was giving her best and most terrifying 'you've earned detention with Filch' look. It took everything in him not to shudder.
With a flick of his wand, the battle plans that Lucius and Abraxas made materialized as a three-dimensional model. Each legion was marked with position, names, and was given a rank based on how effective and powerful they would be.
"We start at nine am." He said, his eyes refusing to waver from hers.
"Why nine? The middle of the night would be better,"
"We have our reasons,"
"Does it have to do with Narcissa?" Harry asked, following the argument as if it were a ping-pong match.
"Yes,"
"Then we wait," Harry said, steel entering his voice.
"Let me remind you, Mr. Potter, who is in charge here," McGonagall said. "I have long time experience under Albus Dumbledore himself."
"Not like I did, Professor. I had a crash course of war tactics with Tom as my enemy my whole life. We will not win this war without the Malfoys and they will not move until nine am. This is our best and final chance to destroy him. We can't screw it up now."
McGonagall stared at him for a prolonged moment and capitulated with a curt nod. "Very well, Mr. Potter. If you insist that we must wait for the Malfoys to move, that is exactly what we will do."
Ginny stood and stretched before giving Harry a peck on the cheek. She held her arms out for Teddy.
"Do you think you can manage his weight?" Sirius asked doubtfully, eyeing her pregnant belly.
"It will be fine," She said softly and stooped, picking up the sleeping toddler. "Mothers hold and carry their older children while pregnant all the time, Sirius."
Never the less, Sirius didn't take his eyes off them until she had carried the boy out of the tent and out of his sight.
"He will be safe with her," Harry said.
"I know but I worry."
"I know,"
"At this rate Potter, you will be clueless as always and fuck the whole thing up," Draco drawled. "If you get Hermione or any of my family killed through your inattention, I will personally kill you."
"If you recall, it was always us saving your arses, this time will be no different," Harry sniped back.
**HGHG**
Dolohov laid in agony. Days had passed since he had seen or heard anyone. He was half healed, laying in his own filth, blind, and deaf. Many of the nights, he spent sobbing. It would be a relief when Lucius came back to finish the job. He should have known that touching a woman claimed by the Malfoy family would end like this. They were always brutal in protecting what they perceived as theirs.
The only thing that had kept him sane through it all was the thought of her. Hermione. For two glorious days, she was his. When she slept he pulled her close into his body and wrapped a single group of curls around and around his finger, bringing the springy tresses to his nose; he inhaled her sweet scent. She was so dependent on him then and he had been in a constant state of arousal. He even missed the way she fought him tooth and nail over everything. Anything she could throw at him would be better than this purgatory.
Dolohov hated this room. It brought him to the brink of his endurance over and over and each time, he thought he was going to lose it. It liked extremes and it seemed to know what would bother him the most. In the beginning, he would desperately hope that certain scenarios would be avoided. It was only hours later that he realized the room was siphoning off his fears and enacting every single one of them. Since then, he only thought about Hermione. The room seemed to encourage this, and the more he thought about her, the more it left him alone.
He flinched as the bands holding him to the table released him and he dared not move. Knowing that this could be the thing that finally, truly broke him. If he sat up and the bindings wrapped around him, to believe he was free only for the room to change its mind would kill him. After several moments of nothing, he sat up, not hoping, not wondering, not pleading. When nothing happened, he swung his legs over the side and winced at the tight scar tissue from the cauterizations on his back and rolled his shoulders. His feet touched the floor and after days of lying prone and enduring unimaginable horrors, he felt as if for the first time he was allowed to hope that maybe, just maybe, he would make it out of this hell hole alive.
At his fingertips that were gripping the edge of the table, a stack of clothing appeared with a small folded paper on top. With shaking fingers, he took it. Holding it up to his face, he noticed it was her scent and inhaled her familiar smell and a pang of longing shot through him. Oh! How he wanted her.
The light brightened as he unfolded the paper and in an unfamiliar script, it read;
My Dearest,
Not a day has gone by that you were not on my mind. It was you in my heart, always you, My Love and nothing could change that. We face war today and if I die, I die knowing how well you have loved me despite our separation. My only goal is to see the utter destruction of your master and if I must die to ensure it, so be it. You will never be allowed to leave the Malfoy dungeon and I despair because I know it will eventually kill you if you do not find a way out. At least I can go to my death and imagine that you are still alive. Perhaps you will be released if all the Malfoys die today in battle. Remember the best of me, of us, after I am gone.
With all my Love,
Hermione
Bile rose in his throat at the thought of Hermione entering into battle against the Dark Lord and became frantic. She loved him! He had to save her. She would not die today, not if he had any say in the matter. He dressed in the clothes provided for him and stumbled his way through the dark, desperate to leave the chamber so that he could get to Hermione in time to save her.
Once he found the door, it slid open easily as if this whole time all he had to do was touch the cool obsidian to leave. He didn't notice the shadow next to the door standing so still, only observing the desperate prisoner. As soon as the door slid closed behind Dolohov, Abraxas stepped out of the shadows and into the light, an unfathomable look on his face.
"Of all the torture, I've seen in this room, of all the men I watched break, I have never seen anything as cruel as what this room has done these last few days. First Bellatrix and now Dolohov." Abraxas muttered. "What's wrong with normal torture? Why can't you break them with that? Why give him hope of a love from a woman that will never come to pass? I know Hermione didn't actually write that letter. Once he realizes that he does not have her tender regards, he will spiral irrevocably into insanity. I don't know what was worse, what this room did to Bella or to Dolohov. Either way, I am glad my enemies don't have a room such as this. I shudder to think what would be awaiting me here." As he turned to leave, a piece of paper caught his eye next to the door. It was a letter, the letter that the room had given Dolohov.
The chamber was eerily quiet despite having thousands of occupants but that was the specialty of the room. It did precisely what it needed to do to break each and every prisoner. No more, no less. And that is what made it all the more terrifying. This room was the stuff nightmares were made of.
**HGHG**
Draco was even more tired after sitting in a war meeting with Potter all night. He trudged up the front steps into the Manor and leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for just a moment. All he had to do was make it up the stairs to his room where he could sleep for the next five hours. Five blissful hours. The longer he stood against the wall, the less time he would be able to spend sleeping but he just couldn't find the strength to open his leaden eyelids. Just a moment more…
"Draco?" Hermione asked softly.
"What are you doing up, Granger?" he murmured, his eyes still closed.
"I couldn't sleep." She slipped her arm around his waist and began to move with him. "Where do you want to go?"
"Your room."
"Lucius is in there sleeping."
"So?"
"I was just letting you know."
"Do you really think that it matters to me now? As long as you stay between us, preferably naked, I don't care."
"Alright," She said with a slight amusement.
"Oh, before I forget, McGonagall sent you something last time and I forgot about it. Reach into my robes and pull it out. It's a little ring box."
"What is it?"
"I don't know. I didn't look."
"Weren't you curious? I would have looked if she had given it to me for you."
"I had other things on my mind,"
"Like what?"
"Like your wet quim waiting for me or my tongue sliding over your body. Take your pick."
Hermione blushed furiously and helped him up the stairs and down the hall. She used her foot to open the door to her room.
"I love when you blush like this, Granger. You have no idea what it does to me," he whispered in her ear. They circled the bed so that Draco would be on the opposite side of his father. Hermione pushed him down so that he was sitting and got on her knees to reach for his boots. He was watching her through bloodshot eyes. "Merlin the sight of you on your knees," he groaned.
Hermione smirked at him and let her robe fall off her shoulder as she reached for his first boot and tugged it off. She had heard his sharp intake of breath, enjoying the feeling of sexual power that rushed through her. Keeping focus but fully aware that she was being watched, she tugged off the other boot and set it aside with its mate. Next, she rolled his socks off him and caressed the skin on his leg. Sitting up on her knees, she moved between his legs and reached up unbuttoning his robes.
"If only I wasn't so damn tired," He growled.
"If we live through today," She muttered, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. "we will have the rest of our lives to explore each other."
"I like the sound of that," his eyes slid closed and Hermione could tell that he was fighting sleep. After that, she quickly stripped him of his remaining clothes, knowing that he, like the other Malfoy men, enjoyed sleeping in the nude and pressed him back into the bed. Hermione let her robe fall to the floor and made to get in the bed.
"Don't forget that box from McGonagall. I'm pretty sure she would kill me herself if I don't give it to you." He whispered.
Hermione bent down and rummaged in his robes and found the small velvet ring box and cringed as the hinges groaned when it was opened. For a minute, she stared confused at the contents. She fingered a thin gold chain, so finely wrought that it must have been goblin-made. As she lifted the piece to eye level, she looked at the gem that hung from it. A cushion-cut ruby the size of her thumbnail. A small tightly folded note fluttered to the floor and Hermione bent to retrieve it.
Hermione,
Long ago this was given into my possession by Albus Dumbledore. He was a man who tried to do the right thing for everyone. He was an amazing wizard but he was not omnipotent. It haunted him, the choices he had to make in order for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to be defeated. With that said, there were a few things that he did, that he was incredibly proud of. One of them was ensuring that Harry would live past childhood, another was taking Severus Snape under his wing, but the one most important right now is this.
This ruby is a portkey to a safehouse that only I know about and soon you will know it too. It holds three people and it has for many, many years. The portkey will both take you and bring you back to where it took you from. The people in this safe house will not hurt you, in fact, they would be overjoyed to see you. If we live through this war, please take Potter with you.
Remember dear girl, you are loved.
Minerva
P.s. To activate the ruby, say the magic word.
Hermione's heart pumped frantically and she was torn with indecision. Should she stay and sleep like her body so desperately needed? Or should she find out who was in the safe house?
Hermione put the necklace around her neck and climbed over Draco's naked body, settling between her men. It took a solid half hour for the adrenalin to leave her body enough so that she could sleep. Draco, obviously drawn by her warmth, rolled into her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his body. All the movement must have disturbed Lucius, because he snapped at them to stop moving and rolled into Hermione's other side, pressing his face into her hair. He rested his large warm hand on her thigh and lightly caressed her as they both fell back asleep.
**HGHG**
Morning came for the three of them as Abraxas strode into the room and threw open the curtains. Hermione glared at him blearily.
"What time is it?" She grumbled.
"Seven. I've let the three of you sleep in but now we need to get ready for war. I can't believe how irresponsible the three of you were to stay up all night fucking!" Abraxas growled, annoyed as hell.
"That's not what happened," Hermione viciously hissed. She, irresponsible? Never. "Lucius was injured and he is still healing. I suspect he took a pepper up potion or two yesterday. Draco, if you would remember had to go meet with the resistance to be sure of coordination and continued alliance for reinforcements. I couldn't sleep and it's lucky I went to the kitchen for tea or we would have found Draco passed out in the foyer. It was me who got him into bed. After that, we slept. What crawled up your arse this morning?"
"This," he hissed, throwing a rolled scroll onto the bed and holding up another bloody ear from a child.
"What does it say?" she asked, all irritation evaporating instantly.
"He is going to send you two gifts today. Apparently, he is taking inspiration from the muggle song Twelve Days of Christmas."
"Oh my god," she choked. It was a song about a man who sent gifts during the twelve days of Christmas to his true love. Every day would build upon the previous with the idea that his true love would end up with a veritable army of gifts. Did that mean that he intended on sending a child's ear every day for twelve days? She thought she was going to be sick.
"Exactly," Abraxas said and he sat on the bed next to Lucius. "Let me see that wound. You may have to sit the battle out if you are seriously wounded."
"If Hermione is going, I'm going," Lucius said in a sleep-roughened voice but laid on his back anyway so that Abraxas could examine him.
"Severus did a fine job healing this wound," Abraxas gently prodded the star-shaped scar. The bruising was still prominent in a wide array of colors but the wound itself had settled into a thin silver starburst.
"Of course, he did! Give me the pepper up potion in the bathroom cabinet and let me get ready for the day." Lucius sneered. It was clear that Lucius, like Hermione, was not the most cheerful of morning people, especially when awoken in such an abrupt manner.
Abraxas strode into the bathroom, grabbed the potion, and was handing it over within moments. With irritated grace, he said, "I will be in the breakfast room awaiting your presence."
**HGHG**
Severus walked into the breakfast room and nodded at Hermione, the Malfoys, Narcissa, and the Azkaban escapees. Although the last was accompanied with an eye roll, it was more civil than any of them expected.
He placed the small purple potion in front of Narcissa and pulled out the chair next to her, sitting with bored grace. The whole table was watching her now as she uncorked the vial. She was shaking but Severus put his hand over hers to keep her steady and she brought it to her lips.
"Will it hurt?" she asked curiously, the vial resting against her lips.
"No,"
"But?"
"But I can't be sure,"
Narcissa nodded and drank the potion. She gasped and her hand flew to her chest. Panting, Narcissa looked up at Severus and said, "I can breathe again,"
"It is time," Abraxas pushed his chair back and laid his napkin over his plate. There was a flurry of activity as everyone stood. Every face was tense as they filed out of the room and onto the grounds. "Once all the Malfoys leave the Manor, it will not have the same strong protections. By leaving, we are allowing the possibility of it being destroyed permanently. Are you ready? To Hogwarts,"
With a series of pops, the group was gone, leaving behind a gleeful Bellatrix at the gates. With a twist, she was gone, following the others to their shouted destination. It was what she had been waiting for, she now knew where they were going. Where Hermione went, so would Bellatrix.
**HGHG**
The gates of Hogwarts loomed before them, impressive as any fortress should be. Voldemort stood inside, leading an impressive Death Eater army despite half of it being incarcerated in Malfoy Manor. Hermione stared in shock at the man standing to his right, Antonin Dolohov.
Dolohov smiled at her tenderly and Hermione was confused. Wasn't he supposed to be locked in the impenetrable, unescapable Malfoy torture chamber? What was going on?
"I see you received my gifts," Voldemort said.
"Gifts," Hermione spat. "What poor child did you mutilate?"
"It's of no importance, the lad was able to grow his ears back. Surely Abraxas was able to tell you that much."
Hermione glared at him. "Open the gates," She ordered.
"On one condition,"
"What could that possibly be?"
"You must come alone and marry Antonin here before everyone present."
"No."
"Alright," He said affably, almost jovially. "I believe another gift is in order." With a flick of his wrist, a small first year was pulled through the crowd. A nonverbal Accio.
Hermione watched in horror as Antonin held the boy and Voldemort took his hands and spread the fingers wide on his wand hand.
"This time we will use dark magic to cut off each finger, one by one, won't we Mr. Bell?" Voldemort smiled and lifted his wand, setting the tip in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.
"Wait," Hermione said.
"You are not giving in to his demands," Lucius growled in her ear and Draco thread his fingers with hers as if to hold her in place.
"We need to get inside. What can we do from out here? I know the resistance is attacking the wards as we speak but Hogwarts has held for thousands of years against all manner of threats. We need this." She whispered to him. The stubborn jut of his chin told her that he didn't agree.
"I have an idea," Sigurd murmured. Hermione raised her eyebrows. "We have polyjuice, do we not?"
"I think he will notice if someone walks past me looking like me to walk through the gate."
"He wants you to wed. Do brides not wear special dresses on that day? It would give you a chance to change places with someone else. We can send in someone we trust."
"Tom knows that is not something I would do in this situation. I wouldn't care about dresses."
"But perhaps there is something we can do," Abraxas said as he pressed paper into her hand.
Hermione looked at the folded note and opened it. As she read it, her eyes grew wide.
"I didn't write this," She said and Sigurd stepped in front of her so that her reaction and their conversation would remain private.
"I know," Abraxas said. "The chamber did. It gave this to Dolohov before letting him leave. I was surprised to find this on the floor, left behind. Perhaps it was not meant to be left. But that doesn't matter. All that matters is that he believes this to be true. And that is how we will get in."
"How are you going to get in once I'm in if I'm busy getting married to another man?"
"Not everything requires magic. Sometimes it just takes muscle and will, Elskede." Sigurd murmured. Hermione looked at him properly for the first time all day. He had his leather armor on, his sword over his shoulder, a whip on his hip, and his long blond hair braided back away from his face. If anyone could muscle their way into Hogwarts, it would be Sigurd.
