DISCLAIMER. None of the characters used are a creation of mine. They belong solely to JK Rowling.
Hermione peeked inside Rab's room, the silence of the night creeping in on her. Finding him tossing around restlessly in his linen sheets, she clutched her cloak tighter around herself and moved on.
Shutting the door to the cottage close behind her, Hermione grasped her wand before touching her fingertips to the burning Dark Mark on her forearm. Feeling the familiar pull at her belly, she was sucked into the darkness as her feet landed on soft, plush grass somewhere in the English wilderness.
The hair on her neck stood straight, in fear of the strangeness of where she currently found herself. She squinted into the vacant darkness, her brows furrowing. She could only vaguely make out the sprawling lands before her.
She saw that she stood canopied by the edges of a forest she had never seen before. The full moon hung low in the blue black sky, almost waning as night gave into dawn.
Twigs snapped underneath her feet as she stepped around the woods, each move careful and calculated. The driftwood twisted in patterns indecipherable.
She stiffened as she felt a cold hand touch the nape of her neck almost lovingly.
'Ah, my dear, Hermione, I had hoped you'd come.' She turned around swiftly to find Voldemort's scarlet eyes staring down at her.
She bowed low, 'Of course, I did, My Lord. Just as you desired.'
'Your father was one of the first to join me, did you know? Extremely gifted. Rodolphus takes on after him. He was ever so curious to follow his ideals. Rabastan, on the other hand, required a bit more .. persuasion. Both of your brothers are explicitly brilliant at their wandwork and you, my dear, even more so.'
'You flatter me, My Lord,' she simpered.
He waved a hand flippantly. 'Of course, your grandfather had his shortcomings. It was a great pleasure to see him finally pass away. A true pestilence.'
Hermione's fists curled.
'He wasted away given his inclination towards Muggle filth. A fool. And yet I am glad for he has given to me my three most faithful servants. Your family is incredibly dear to me, Hermione. I put my faith in you.'
'Master showers me with praise I deserve not,' she murmured, subservient as ever.
His mouth curved, his long pale white finger pointing out in the distance.
Hermione strained her eyes to see. A crumpled figure lay quietly howling against the dripling ink of the skies.
A werewolf, she realised.
'My Lord?,' she frowned.
'Every once in a while one of Greyback's subjects rebels. It is a sad thing, trust me. I hate inflicting such pain.' He placed a hand against his heart, 'I truly do. And yet circumstances force me to act in such a rash manner.'
Hermione's skin prickled as the wolf let out an anguished cry.
'He has been weak. Hesitation,' he looked at her pointedly, his gaze speculative, 'is a most unwanted feeling.'
She swallowed as she immediately set to putting up stronger walls around her mind. She'd have been a fool to have missed the veiled threat in his voice.
Voldemort glared at the wolf, his hand on his wand tightening. 'Bring him to me,' he commanded.
Hermione braced herself for the task ahead. Holding her breath, she wandlessly willed the wolf to drift away into unconsciousness. She left behind the safety of the woods to move closer to the now quietly whimpering figure.
She gasped as she recognised the grey fur on the crying wolf. With slow steps she reached his side, tentatively spreading out her fingers towards him. She lay a reassuring hand on his head, casting several spells to take away his pain but keep him inebriated still. A pressure built against the back of her eyes at seeing the blood that matted the fur on his body but she dared not let any of her sorrow show.
Oh, Remus.
She levitated Moony over to where Voldemort now stood, only a few hundred paces away. Voldemort nodded tightly, motioning for Hermione to follow before he took hold of Moony by his throat and vanished.
Hermione stumbled, her breath turning ragged as she spun on her feet and found herself walking up the stone pavement to Malfoy Manor.
She entered the hall, as empty as the corridors outside, lead in her feet. She bent down to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes all the while feigning ignorance to the ragged form of her friend in the farthest corner.
'Soon the moon shall set.' Voldemort sneered, 'You shall find that you know of this pathetic half breed.'
'Is that so, My Lord?,' she echoed, her eyes downcast, something akin to longing tugging at her heart.
He smiled evilly as he placed a hand on her shoulder, 'Indeed. I am certain you will enjoy yourself immensely at inflicting pain upon this mongrel given your .. history.'
Hermione felt bile rise up her throat as Moony howled one last time before his body began shrinking, the pain of breaking bones adding to that from the wasteland of wounds Voldemort had inflicted upon him.
Remus groaned and let out a string of curses as he regained his human form, the skin on his back a criss cross of jagged scars. His face twisted into a grimace, his fingers feeling along the sides of his body, two of his ribs jutting out. As he ambled himself over to the corner, the remains of his last dinner hurtling out, Hermione made herself scarce. She schooled her expression into one of revulsion but her heart spun a different tale, her insides burning with sorrow.
'Do you remember this face, my dear?' Voldemort's eyes glimmered in mirth.
'One of Potter's pets,' she spat with no real venom.
Remus whimpered as Voldemort flung his battered body away. His amber eyes trembled as he looked at Hermione, understanding flooding his gaze even under such duress. His hands fumbled to cover whatever modesty he had left, his broken wrists in hapless disarray.
Hermione looked away, choosing instead to preen under Voldemort's stern gaze.
Voldemort stepped closer to Remus, his toes stabbing onto his broken chest. He smirked at the shouts he elicited from the tortured man. 'You joined not a month ago and yet you've shown such disloyalty. My man, Greyback, offered to you shelter when the entire world sneers at you. I offered you a semblance of an identity, you ungrateful little creature and this if how you repay me for the kindness I have shown you?'
Remus attempted scrambling onto his feet, a futile effort given the condition of his mangled legs. 'My.. My Lord?,' he stuttered.
'You think that little boy you sought to protect rather unceremoniously would ever see you as an equal?' Voldemort created a circle of fire around him, its flames flapping against Remus, the flesh on his body charring. 'He would spit on your face if he knew of your true nature. Disobedience. Insurbordination.'
Remus croaked out, the epitome of a repentant servant, 'I .. I, I apologize, My.. Lord.'
'I am a merciful master,' Voldemort said calmly. 'You shall be punished but I will allow you another chance at a life with us.'
Hermione swallowed, the nature of her late night summon now dawning on her.
The flames rose higher with another flick of Voldemort's wrist. He turned to look at Hermione, a gracious hand reaching out to her. 'If you would so oblige me, love? Hermione, dear, your expertise at magic against such creatures is of great importance. It shall come in handy.'
She gulped. Every part of her being crying out, she whispered, 'He will make a docile pet yet.'
Voldemort looked at her, pleased.
'Dolos,' she murmured, repulsed at the sick pleasure in Voldemort's eyes at seeing Remus' body thrash in pain.
Voldemort seated himself in a high backed chair as Remus screamed at the top of his lungs, pain worth of a thousand needles pressing into his skin etching its way across his body.
'Glacies,' she uttered, her breath hitching with every spoken curse, her own body feeling the hurt she inflicted at a man she so loved and respected. Her heart broke as Remus stifled his screams all in the vain attempt of trying to spare her the pain of being the bringer of such ache to him. He nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes conveying to her his acceptance of their helplessness.
'Ideste!' She could hear faint footsteps somewhere above her now. 'Crucio!' Her heart hammered against her ribcage. 'Crucio!' She knew she had to make it look believable. She had to make it seem true and raw. If she didn't appease Voldemort he would only strive to bring something much worse onto Remus' already broken body.
She felt herself crumble at the sight of the tears that rolled down the brown haired man's cheeks, mixing with his blood and snot and the dirt that covered his face.
'I am so sorry,' she mouthed to him, her heart breaking at the sad smile that played on his lips, his mind warring to lull him into unconsciousness. Her guilt was like a demon threatening to strangle her, drown her asunder.
Monster.
That's who she was.
A spineless monster. For whatever her intentions might be, the sins she'd commit would not leave her soul. She'd reap for the henious crimes she was committing now and she'd gladly step up for her reckoning when the day came.
Death too must be earned.
Remus tried to fight off the drugging silence that threatened to surround him, the cancer like pain ebbing towards the centre of his heart. He writhed quietly, not once giving in to the burning inside him, his eyes steady upon Hermione's, brimming only and only with love. He knew if the pain in his bones was an icy chill then the guilt that ate away at her heart was like a glacier of sharp ends.
His fingers clamped around his stomach, digging into the skin and boring in punctures. He could take it no longer. Every time Hermione pressed her wand closer to herself, her eyes shutting tight, sent a wave of sorrow flooding through him. He had to end this torture and so he would gladly be the docile pet Voldemort wanted.
'Mercy,' he whispered into the cold, 'mercy, Master.. please, My Lord.. mercy..'
Voldemort hummed under his breath, 'What was that I heard, you mutt?'
'Mercy.. I.. I beg of you, My Lord.. no more..'
'Crucio!' Voldemort yelled. 'If ever again you dare defy direct orders I shall have you whipped and paraded around. Dolos! Crucio!'
Remus' eyes drooped low as he groaned, his bladder emptying onto the ground.
Hermione averted her eyes, not meaning to add to his humiliation.
'Greyback,' Voldemort called out, making Hermione frown as she gathered her wits about her. The morning sun was well unto the sky. She had not noticed the rising day.
Greyback entered, a feral growl erupting from his throat as his eyes fell on Remus. He kicked his sore chest, the bruises on his pale skin blacker than ever.
Hermione bit her lip, drawing blood.
Voldemort flicked his wand. Remus cried out one last time before Greyback bowed and flung his shredded being onto his shoulders, dragging him away.
Hermione gasped as she saw the pool of blood that lay in the place where Remus had been only moments ago. Her numb feet carried her away once dismissed, ignorant of her bearings.
Hermione found Narcissa pacing in front of the Manor.
Narcissa conjured a cold towel once Hermione stepped outside. She pressed it into her hands, wiping away the sweat that fizzled at her forehead.
'He was your friend. It was years ago and yet I remember.'
'One of the first,' Hermione whispered. 'A strange time and a strange place and he loved me for who I was.'
Narcissa felt the wetness in her own eyes as she saw the curly haired witch vanish into nothingness.
Hermione ran inside Harry's flat. She knew he wouldn't be home for hours. She threw herself onto the floor of the bathroom, tearing away from her body the clothes that clung to her.
There was never relief. Not for the likes of her. She had been drunk on bliss with having acquired the Cup. It meant nothing. Not if it couldn't help spare Remus his hurts and sorrows.
She cried out, her screams muffled by the Silencing Charm she had placed around herself. She screamed herself hoarse, every sound she made punctuated by the scratch of her fingers against the Dark Mark that lay against her pink skin.
Her mind was a battlefield, rage building inside her like boiling water. She looked into the mirror, what stared back frightening her. She didn't feel human. The woman on the silvered surface was some distorted and twisted monster, the winter in her eyes colder than the frosty fingers of hatred that grasped at the edges of Hermione's heart.
She felt intoxicated with the pulsating rage she radiated at herself, wildfire roaring in her mind. She felt the blood trickle down her arm, her two scars mudding together, the Dark Mark and the word Mudblood.
It was a funny thing, her blood. It knew the dark of her insides and yet it was the same as the pure liquid that surged through the veins of the man who had thrived not for himself but for the reprieve of her deranged heart even when he'd found himself hanging at the gates of Death.
Remus Lupin was a hero. He was the man people sung about.
Hermione was nobody. She was a porcelain doll tossed about, chased away from one battle to another, each stripping her of her soul.
How much longer?
She wished Harry would return soon.
How much longer?
Perhaps they could run away. Why did it have to be them? Why did fate get to decide? When would Death come?
How much longer?
How much longer until she found the elysian truth of her life? How much longer until she could rest? How much longer until she bled dry?
How much longer?