An: Just wanted to say a quick thank you to FierceFern for the consistent support. I really appreciate it :)
Hermione's head throbbed as she began to regain consciousness, her surroundings a blur of shadows and indistinct shapes. Her limbs felt heavy, and her mind was hazy and disoriented. She tried to move but felt resistance. Blinking through the fog, her vision slowly cleared, and the familiar face of Margaux loomed above her, a look of chilling indifference on her face.
"Sorry," Margaux said, her voice devoid of emotion. Before she could process the words, the tip of a wand pointed at her, and the incantation came just as swiftly.
"Stupefy."
Blackness swallowed her again.
When Hermione finally came to again, her mind was swimming in confusion. Her body ached, and something cold and unyielding wrapped around her ankles. She tried to move but felt the unmistakable clink of metal. Chains. She instinctively pulled at them, but a quiet sound made her stop. The soft jingle had disturbed someone else.
"Don't move around so much. She'll come down here," a voice muttered groggily from beside her.
Hermione's eyes flickered toward the source of the voice, and she froze. Chained beside her was Margaux—or at least, that's who she appeared to be. But this woman was different from the polished Auror trainee Hermione had worked with for weeks. This woman looked gaunt, her hair tangled and matted, her body thin and frail.
"Who are you?" Hermione demanded, her voice rising in alarm. "What's happening?" Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any clues, any sign of what was going on.
The girl beside her let out a hollow laugh, her breath shaky. "I… am Margaux," she said slowly, her French accent much more pronounced than what Hermione was used to.
Hermione's blood ran cold, her mind spinning as the horrifying truth began to sink in. Astoria Greengrass had been impersonating Margaux all this time. Astoria Greengrass. Not Margaux. Astoria.
"Astoria..." Hermione whispered, her voice catching in her throat. "She's been using you, hasn't she? Using you to get closer to Draco." A shiver ran down her spine as the chilling realization dawned on her.
Margaux nodded weakly, her voice faltering with exhaustion. "Yes... she lock me here for many months," she said in broken English. "No one in England know who I am."
Her stomach twisted into a knot. It made perfect sense. Margaux was a stranger in a foreign country, someone no one would miss or question. Astoria had found the perfect cover to eliminate any witnesses and maintain her charade.
Just as Hermione tried to wrap her mind around the enormity of the betrayal, a sudden, searing pain shot through her chest. Her breath caught, and she doubled over, clutching her chest as the agony radiated through her body. The pain was excruciating, ripping through her as she writhed in her chains.
Her mind was transported back to the cold stone floor of Malfoy Manor. She could almost feel Bellatrix Lestrange looming over her, taunting her with that twisted smile as the Cruciatus Curse seared through her body. The sensation was so vivid, so real, that for a moment, Hermione wasn't in the dank basement at all—she was back there, helpless.
She gasped as another wave of pain slammed into her chest, pulling her harshly back into the present. Hermione reached out, her hand trembling as it found the rough wall beside her, the cold stone pressing into her palm as she tried to steady herself on the floor.
"This is normal," Margaux whispered softly, her eyes dark and weary. "C'est l'effet de la potion qu'elle vous a donné."
"W-what potion?" Hermione choked out between ragged breaths, the searing pain in her chest mirroring the agony in her mind. Her vision swam, and she could barely focus on Margaux's terrified face.
Margaux's lips trembled. "I—I don't know the name," she admitted, her voice shaking. "But she gived you a lot more than me."
Before she could process the new information, another sharp wave of pain shot through her body, causing her to grit her teeth to keep from crying out.
Margaux's eyes welled up, mirroring the distress in Hermione's own. She reached out a trembling hand towards Hermione, a gesture of comfort from one captive to another, even though she herself was barely holding it together. "She wants you… um, faible, I think—weak," she continued, her voice trembling. "You are in the way."
Before Hermione could ask any more questions, a door creaked open, and the dim light spilled in, casting a long shadow on the floor. Margaux, startled, retreated into the corner, her figure shrouded in the darkness. From the shadows emerged Astoria, her expression calm but cold, her eyes glinting with a chilling malice as she darted between the two women.
Hermione's hand instinctively flew to her side, searching for the familiar weight of her wand. It was still there, a flicker of relief passing through her. In one swift motion, she drew it, aiming it at Astoria. But Astoria merely laughed, the sound echoing off the damp walls of the confined space.
"You can wave your wand all you like, Hermione," Astoria sneered, stepping closer so that the tip of Hermione's wand was against her chest. "It's not going to work."
The realization hit her like a blow to the stomach, the wind knocking out of her. She had been given Nullis Elixir. The wand in her hand was nothing more than a stick.
"What... what have you done with my parents?" Hermione whispered, her voice trembling as fear, rage, and pain battled within her.
Astoria chuckled darkly, shaking her head with a twisted smile. "They're perfectly safe in Australia," she said, her voice laced with a chilling calm. "Enjoying the sunshine, no doubt."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock, disbelief washing over her. "Then why... why all of this?" she stammered.
Astoria's expression hardened, revealing the deep-seated resentment she had clearly been holding onto. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment, a secret she had been forced to bottle up until now. "I just needed an excuse to separate you from the rest of the team, to get you here."
"Why...?" Hermione whispered, the sound barely audible.
"I was meant to marry Draco!" Astoria shrieked, her face red and blazing with a terrifying intensity. She grabbed Hermione's jumper and pulled her towards her aggressively. "An arranged marriage, a perfect match between two pure-blood families. But when Lucius was imprisoned and Narcissa dissolved the marriage pact, I was cast aside, discarded." Her tone grew more venomous as it echoed around the chamber. "The Malfoy fortune was mine! I was entitled to it!"
Hermione struggled against Astoria's grip, her eyes wide with panic. "So you concocted this plan," she said slowly, praying that Astoria continued talking, "because you wanted to get close to Draco so that you could—"
"Exactly!" Astoria hissed, dropping Hermione back onto the floor with a triumphant smirk. "I knew he admired intelligence, so I posed as a trainee Auror. From Beauxbatons, no less. He's spent time in France, you see. It was the perfect backstory."
"And I was just… an obstacle," Hermione whispered.
"You were never supposed to be here!" Astoria spat, her finger jabbing into the air in front of Hermione's face. "I had everything planned. Everything, except for you."
As Hermione watched the woman in front of her, she saw the true depths of Astoria's depravity. The crazed glint in her eyes betrayed a mind consumed by obsession and bitterness, revealing just how far she had fallen into darkness.
"And then, there you were," Astoria continued as she started pacing restlessly around the room, her voice rising in frustration. "Always with Draco, always in the way. I tried to be patient, but the more time passed, the more he… noticed you."
Astoria suddenly stopped moving, a distant look in her eyes as she stared vacantly at the wall lost in her memories. "I didn't mean to kill that girl at the furniture shop," she admitted, her voice low.
Hermione watched as she seemed to drag herself out of a daze, suddenly changing her demeanour. She shook her head violently and shrugged her shoulders. "I mean to be fair, she was just a squib, nothing more. How could she possibly deserve to speak to someone like Draco? How could she dare to be in his presence like she was worthy..." Astoria trailed off, a chilling indifference settling over her features.
"You—" Hermione's voice cracked, her frustration boiling over. "Astoria, Draco and I… we're just work partners. If you let us go now, I'm sure he will forgive you. We can all move past this." Her voice trailed off, a desperate plea hanging in the air.
Astoria's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a cold, cruel smile. "Oh, Hermione," she said, walking over to her and tapping her on the cheek as if she were a child. "You really think you can deceive me with your empty promises? I know what's at stake here." She stepped closer, and Hermione could feel her breath on the back of her neck as Astoria leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Draco is mine. And once you're out of the way, he'll see that too."
Hermione felt a sinking dread as Astoria loomed over her, the chains biting into the skin around her ankles. She was powerless, a caged bird watching its own demise unfold before its eyes.
Astoria suddenly started pacing the room again, her movements jittery as her frustration radiated off her in waves. "I didn't mean for this to happen," Astoria began again, the words flowing freely from her. "I didn't plan for you to be back in the wizarding world at the same time as I was executing my plan."
Hermione stayed silent, her eyes burning with a mix of fear and fury as Astoria's deranged confession spilled out. "And that night after the pub," Astoria continued, her tone turning more sinister. "I planned to kill you, Hermione. You were the real obstacle. But I got caught trying to break through your wards. So I had to kill the old bitch who caught me instead."
Astoria stopped moving, her shoulders shaking. Then, a sound erupted from her throat – laughter, but twisted, high-pitched, and brittle. It wasn't the sound of joy; it was the sound of something breaking, something dark and deeply wrong. She keeled over slightly, clutching her side, the laughter continuing in ragged gasps. "Pity for poor little Henry, of course," she continued, wiping away a tear, "but let's be real, no one will miss that lonely old muggle. She was expendable."
"Astoria," Hermione tried again, her voice sharper this time.
"Hush now," Astoria whispered, her smile a thin, cruel line. She turned, her movements unnervingly smooth, and walked towards Hermione, who was paralyzed with fear, a cold knot in her stomach. Astoria stopped close enough to touch, her eyes burning into Hermione's. She lifted a hand, and for a terrifying moment, Hermione thought she was going to strike her. Instead, she reached out, her touch surprisingly light as she brushed a stray curl from Hermione's face. "I'm glad I didn't kill you," she murmured.
Suddenly, without a warning, Astoria plucked a hair from her head with a sharp tug. Hermione flinched slightly but tried to stay still.
"Now that you've done all the hard work," Astoria said, examining the strand of Hermione's hair between her fingers, "got Draco to notice you, got Ministry clearance for the lockdown—well, I'm closer to being with Draco than ever before."
Hermione's heart pounded. Astoria's gaze was like ice, raking over her slowly. "Give me your clothes," she commanded, her voice low.
Resistance was impossible. Hermione was powerless. With trembling hands, she began to undress, the shame a bitter taste in her mouth. Astoria watched, her expression cold and unreadable, as Hermione handed over each piece of clothing until she stood shivering.
"You know," Astoria mused as she held up Hermione's clothes to inspect them, "you could be so much prettier if you just made some simple changes. Nothing too flashy of course. Draco always did prefer simplicity."
Hermione watched, mesmerized and horrified, as Astoria, now wearing her clothes, uncorked a small vial. The liquid within shimmered with an unnatural light as she dropped the hair into the solution and drank it down in one gulp. Her hair, dark and straight, began to curl and lighten, the color shifting to a familiar shade of brown. Her height shrunk and her posture subtly adjusted itself. Once the transformation was complete she began applying subtle adjustments to her appearance—smoothing her curls in her hair, and dabbing a light layer of makeup onto her face. She watched helplessly as Astoria transformed herself into a perfect version of Hermione Granger.
Satisfied with the results, Astoria took a moment to admire her reflection in a nearby mirror. She smoothed her robes with a practiced gesture, ensuring everything was in place. "What do you think?" she asked.
Hermione's gaze swept over Astoria's transformed appearance, lingering on the familiar curves of her face, the subtle tilt of her nose, the way her hair framed her jaw. "You look just like me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Astoria, now Hermione, smiled, a cruel triumph in her eyes. "Well, I suppose these are for you," she said, flicking her wand with a casual motion as a set of plain clothes materialized in front of Hermione. "Get dressed," she ordered. "I'll be back later. I've got a new murder to cover up, and a man to get."
Astoria then turned and walked out of the room, her footsteps echoing ominously as the door slammed shut behind her. As the silence settled, Hermione felt a wave of despair wash over her.
Margaux, still chained beside her, began to shake, her sobs filling the room with a haunting resonance. "Je veux rentrer chez moi," she cried out in French, her voice trembling and cracking under the weight of her fear.
"We'll find a way out of this," Hermione said softly, reaching out to touch her arm, trying to offer some semblance of comfort. "I promise."
Hours dragged on in the basement, and Hermione's thoughts churned relentlessly, a storm of worry for both her own safety and Margaux's. She couldn't shake the fear of what might happen if Astoria's twisted plans came to fruition. Her thoughts repeatedly returned to Draco. What if he rejected Astoria? Would she take her rage out on him? The thought was unbearable. Hermione had to find a way to warn him, to stop Astoria's plans before it was too late.
Margaux's sobs had eventually faded into soft, sporadic hiccups as she struggled to regain her composure. Hermione tried to offer comfort, striking up small conversations to help distract both herself and Margaux from their grim predicament. They spoke in hushed tones about mundane topics, trying to cling to normalcy in the midst of chaos.
While she was whispering with Margaux, she meticulously catalogued her surroundings, searching for anything that could be used as a tool, a lever, a means of escape. She assessed her chains, searching for a weakness, evaluating their composition, the security of their fastenings. The Nullis Elixir may have robbed her of her magic, but she was a strategist, a survivor, and she would not surrender.
Suddenly, footsteps pounded in the corridor. The basement door crashed open, and Astoria stormed in, her face a mask of fury.
"It's not working!" Astoria screamed, her voice echoing in the room. She stormed up to Hermione, grabbing her by the front of her shirt and shoving her back against the wall. Margaux let out a frightened gasp beside her.
Astoria pressed her wand against Hermione's temple, her eyes wild with anger. "Why isn't it working, Hermione?" she demanded.
She took a deep breath, her mind racing to find a way to salvage the situation. "It's... It's because I rejected him this morning," she lied quickly, her voice steady despite the pain. "Draco confessed his feelings, and I told him I didn't want him. He probably doesn't know how to act around you."
Astoria's eyes narrowed as she seemed to weigh Hermione's words carefully, her anger giving way to a flicker of intrigue. "Is that so?" she said, her voice cold.
Hermione nodded, trying to appear confident despite the dull pain that still plagued her chest. "Yes, exactly. He'll be struggling with his feelings. If you want him to fall for you, you'll need to be patient and persistent. I can help you with that."
Astoria's expression shifted from anger to contemplation. She seemed to be considering Hermione's offer, her eyes flicking to the wand in her hand as though weighing her options. After a long moment, she finally spoke. "You think you can get Draco interested in you again?"
Hermione nodded, her agreement barely a whisper. "Yes," she managed to say, but the word was cut short by a sudden, searing pain that ripped through her body. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat and her eyes widening. The pain was so intense it made her vision blur, her body momentarily going rigid.
Astoria was unmoved by her visible pain, her gaze unwavering, and her voice laced with a manipulative edge. "Do you think you can get Draco to agree to marry you?"
She forced herself to meet Astoria's eyes, projecting an image of confidence she was far from feeling. "I know I can," she said, her voice steady despite the pain coursing through her. "But I need you to make an Unbreakable Vow with me."
Astoria's eyes narrowed, but she was clearly intrigued by the offer. Her skepticism was palpable as she studied Hermione, searching for any hint of deception. "What would the vow entail?" she asked, her tone guarded.
"If Draco proposes…" Hermione started, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "If Draco proposes to you, you must vow to release me and Margaux. We'll be free to go, and you can move forward with your plans."
Astoria's expression hardened. "And if you fail?"
Despite the pain that threatened to overwhelm her, Hermione's gaze remained locked on her. "Then you can kill me," she said, her voice clear. "If I don't succeed, I'm willing to pay the price."