Schemes
A torch flickered lazily, casting wavering shadows down the dimly lit corridor. Its amber flames hissing against the oppressive stillness. In the shadows of the flames, a nimble form ghosted across the floor. The colossal snake, a fearsome creature with obsidian-black eyes, glided silently across the cobblestones, slipping through the cracked cell door.
The snake raised its head, emitting a sharp, menacing hiss. Its eyes held a malevolent glint, an unusual spark of intelligence and cunning uncommon in a wild creature. A faint whimper escaped one of the room's occupants but was quickly silenced by mocking laughter that filled the air.
"Shut your vile mouth, you filthy blood traitor! She only strikes when my master commands. And I doubt he wants either of you dead," sneered a cloaked figure, pausing dramatically, "yet."
"Come, Malfoy, is that how you treat my new guests?" A velvety voice inquired. Hermione's head snapped up, wary brown eyes following the tall, elegant wizard who had materialized behind the massive snake. The young Gryffindor's heart constricted with revulsion as she looked upon the middle-aged face and sharp features that could almost successfully conceal the true identity of the wizard before her. But to the terrified teen, there was no doubt in her exceptionally quick mind whose crimson eyes she was staring into.
Lucius Malfoy promptly dropped to one knee, murmuring, "My Lord," as he lowered his head in submission. The pureblood elitist cockiness had vanished, replaced by complete deference to the Dark Lord as he passed by. Hermione couldn't suppress the involuntary shiver that crawled up her spine as the tall wizard, the infamous Lord Voldemort, drew nearer.
"Welcome to my manor, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley." He extended a long, pale finger, tracing it slowly down Hermione's cheek until it reached her chin, forcing her gaze upward. "I was delighted to learn that the two of you accepted my invitation." She recoiled in revulsion, but his grip tightened on her jaw; a cold, joyless laugh escaped his lips. It was not the laughter of mirth or delight; it was cruel and promised only pain. It was a self-indulgent sound that clearly found amusement in power and pain.
"Release her!" Ron shouted, raising a hand towards her and taking a large step forward. Before he could take another step, he was levitated into the air and hurled against the wall with a loud thump. He crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. Lifting a trembling hand to his temple, the redhead's fingers traced the path of his fall to the back of his skull.
"Ron!" Hermione watched helplessly as Ron attempted to stand. His movements were prevented when the sudden appearance of conjured shackles bound him tightly to the wall. Hermione turned her horror-filled gaze from her friend, now trapped and powerless, back towards the Dark Lord, who still gripped her chin painfully with one hand, wand now visible in the other.
"Mr. Weasley, surely your upbringing has instilled in you some modicum of manners? You're before a Lord; it is only appropriate to show due respect and reverence," Voldemort chided, tilting his head mockingly as he peered down at the bound, pale, freckled teenager. "But I know your blood has forsaken the old ways, holding in contempt what should be pure and preserved. Perhaps a lesson is in order?"
Ron held his head high, his brown eyes narrowing in unveiled anger. "You don't know anything about manners of what's deserved," he replied furiously. Hermione noticed a trickle of blood seeping from his hair, disappearing into his robes at the nape of his neck.
"Ah, it seems some of Mr. Potter's reckless bravery has rubbed off on his loyal sidekick," he observed with a chilling smile. "Or perhaps it's his stupidity that's the real culprit, robbing you of any sense. Are you so eager to meet your death, Mr. Weasley? I would be delighted to oblige." The dark lord's red eyes shifted toward Hermione's trembling form. "I only need one of you."
Hermione swallowed, her throat dry as she watched the most feared wizard in history toy with Ron. Her friend was clearly terrified but trying to act brave.
He released her, taking a step towards the bound teen. His wand flipped through his long fingers before coming to a stop, pointing directly at the redhead. "Tell me, boy, do you seek death?" She prayed Ron wouldn't take the bait. Her gaze shifted between the two of them. This was not the time for foolish bravery; they needed to survive so they could escape.
Ron's gaze darted to hers, and she subtly shook her head, silently imploring him to hold on. With a shaky breath, Ron averted his eyes to the ground and shook his head slightly.
"That's not good enough, Mr. Weasley; I want to hear you beg me to spare your life."
Brown eyes snapped back up in defiance, his face ghostly pale, and his fiery hair standing out starkly against the dark walls. Biting his lip, he glanced at Hermione, who was frozen in fear.
"Please," she heard herself whisper, barely above a murmur. "Just leave him alone."
Voldemort's crimson eyes turned toward her. Amusement danced within his cold features; it was clear he found their predicament entertaining, their lives reduced to nothing but pawns in his game. As she maintained eye contact with him, she saw something else, something that sent a shiver down her spine. There was no trace of humanity as he looked between her and her best friend—only cold calculation and a fleeting interest as he contemplated how best to use them against Harry.
"I may spare his life if he admits what we all know to be true. Your lives rest in my hands." He paused, turning back to Ron. "If," he repeated softly, savoring the single syllable as it rolled off his tongue, "you survive the night, it will be only because I allow it."
"And then what? Will you just kill us tomorrow or the day after?" Hermione's voice shook as she glared up at the Dark Lord, the wizard responsible for the war they all knew was about to start in full. She was relieved that her voice didn't crack, that she'd masked most of her fear. She sounded braver than she felt. Was this how Harry felt each time he faced his parents'
murderer? Utterly alone and hopeless, clinging to any semblance of strength while knowing he was helpless.
She forced herself not to cower or shrink back in fear as the Dark Lord and Malfoy glared down at her—the former in contemplation, the latter in disgust. She held firm, forcing herself to be brave, needing to deflect Voldemort's attention from Ron. Her friend had that stubborn look in his eyes, the one he wore when he was angry and not about to back down. If Hermione knew one thing—which she definitely did, it was that Ron's defiance could get him killed. She needed time to figure out their situation, and Ron needed to stay alive while she did.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Voldemort chuckled. "This generation is filled with such fire, don't you agree, Lucius?" Malfoy, caught between wanting to agree with whatever the Dark Lord said and his own disdain for Muggle-borns and blood traitors, shot them a bewildered look. Voldemort's words almost sounded like a compliment. "Although," he continued, "I haven't seen any trace of it in your own offspring yet, which I find almost intriguing."
Lucius Malfoy's silver eyes narrowed, a fury she didn't want to be on the receiving end of now directed at her for the perceived slight against his son. "I've raised Draco to be cunning and ready to serve you, my lord," he began, clearly attempting to regain favor for his son without directly contradicting Voldemort. The proud pureblood would not openly defy his lord, even when he despised the observation just made. "My son understands your power, and his rightful place in the wizarding world is to serve you. These insignificant adolescents often mistake bravery for recklessness."
"Perhaps," mused the Dark Lord, his tone not revealing his true thoughts. He turned back to his two captives. "For now, I will spare you both. I would rather leave your fate in someone else's hands. We shall see whether he values your lives or his own."
"Are you using us as bait?" Ron blurted out, realization dawning upon him.
"How perceptive," drawled Lucius Malfoy disdainfully. "Did you think the Dark Lord invited you here for your charming company?"
Ron blushed, making his fiery hair stand out even more. "Well, you're out of luck. Dumbledore won't allow Harry to receive any mail; there's no way to let him know we're here. You won't trick him into surrendering." Hermione could see the satisfaction in Ron's eyes as Lucius remained silent, unable to counter his statement. But Voldemort seemed unconcerned.
"If Dumbledore believes he can shield the boy from me by simply blocking a letter, then he greatly underestimates my power over him. Within the hour, he will know what I desire if he hopes for either of you to survive this encounter."
"Harry won't surrender just to save us," stammered Hermione, realizing as soon as the words left her mouth that, yes, that was exactly what Harry would do. The smirk curling Voldemort's almost handsome features told her that he knew precisely what Harry would do.
"I believe your friend will arrive sooner than you think, Miss Granger," he promised softly. "Come, Lucius, let us prepare for our guest of honor. His stay will be rather more," he paused, lips twitching fractionally, "permanent."
Turning on his heel, Lord Voldemort strode out of the room, his black robes flowing silently behind him. Lucius Malfoy cast one last contemptuous smirk in their direction, his silver eyes assessing them knowingly, before he too spun around, following his master out of the cell.
The cell snapped shut with a resounding thud, a bolt magically sealing them inside.
Turning, Hermione rushed to Ron's side. He remained shackled to the wall, staring dejectedly at the spot where the two dark wizards had just left. "Do you think Harry will come for us?" Ron asked quietly, his gaze fixed on the locked door, a deep frown etching his pale features.
With a heavy sigh, Hermione sat down beside him and shook her head, too afraid to answer.