an: I just wanted to thank KatCEstrada for their review. Literally laughed out loud.
Astoria finally loosened her grip on Hermione, and she crumpled to the cold, unforgiving floor, gasping as the residual effects of her suppressed magic wracked her body with sharp spasms of pain. Her chest tightened with each breath, but Astoria was unconcerned. She paced across the dingy basement, her mind clearly preoccupied with Hermione's suggestion of an unbreakable vow.
Through clenched teeth, Hermione forced herself to speak. "If we're going to do this, we need a witness."
Astoria rolled her eyes dismissively. "I'm not stupid, Hermione. I know that," she retorted, her tone dripping with irritation. Without another word, she turned and started heading toward the basement stairs.
A surge of panic gripped Hermione. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice laced with urgency.
The witness was the only reason Hermione had even considered the unbreakable vow. She knew that whoever Astoria would bring to officiate the spell would have to see what was happening—and that person might be their only chance at salvation. If she could convince them to help, to alert someone, to do anything to stop Astoria, there might still be hope.
Astoria didn't even look back. "To find someone who will agree to officiate the vow," she called over her shoulder. "In the meantime, you should concern yourself with thinking of things Draco likes."
Hermione's gaze followed Astoria as she started up the stairs, each step echoing in the small, suffocating space. Beside her, Margaux let out a small whimper, the toll of the Nullis Elixir evident in the way her fragile body curled into itself in pain. Hermione glanced at her, the anguish on her face pulling at her heart.
"Wait!" Hermione shouted, her voice strained. "Astoria, I don't owe you any information until we make the unbreakable vow."
The words hit Astoria like a slap. She halted mid-step, her hand hovering near the door. Slowly, she turned, a dangerous glint sparking in her cold eyes. "Are you really trying to bargain with me?"
Hermione steeled herself, knowing she was treading dangerous waters. "I said I'm not going to tell you anything until you do something for me," she repeated, her voice defiant despite the pain.
Astoria's expression shifted, the Polyjuice Potion that had given her Hermione's appearance beginning to fade. The transformation was subtle at first, with Hermione's familiar curly brown hair straightening into Astoria's sleek, jet-black strands. She didn't seem to care, her sharp features hardening as she stared down at Hermione.
"Fine," Astoria finally said, her tone icy. "What do you want?"
"I'll give you information," Hermione said, "but only after you feed Margaux."
The room fell into a tense silence. Still curled in pain, Margaux lifted her head slightly at Hermione's words, her eyes filled with silent gratitude. Astoria glanced at Margaux, then back at Hermione, clearly irritated by the request. She rolled her eyes dramatically, her lips curling into a sneer.
"Ugh, fine," Astoria huffed as if the request were beneath her. Without another word, she stormed up the stairs, slamming the basement door behind her, the echo reverberating through the small space.
Hermione and Margaux sat in the basement's eerie, damp silence. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear, desperation, and frustration. She glanced at Margaux, who clutched her knees as if trying to disappear. The air was thick with the smell of mould and damp stone, the only sound the faint clinking of their chains when either of them moved.
Time was slipping away, and every passing second felt like a countdown to something much worse. Astoria was out there, likely searching for someone to officiate the unbreakable vow, and Hermione was stuck here trying to think of what Draco Malfoy liked. The request had seemed simple at first, but now that she was forced to think about it, Hermione felt a sense of confusion. She didn't actually know what he liked. At least, not in the way Astoria wanted her to.
Was it their shared experiences that drew him to her? Her intelligence? Or was it something deeper that she hadn't even realised? She had never given it much thought because, up until now, she hadn't needed to. But now Astoria was demanding answers. Answers Hermione wasn't sure she had.
Margaux stirred beside her, and Hermione could feel the woman's exhaustion and despair radiating through the cold stone floor they both sat on. "What are you thinking?" Margaux's voice was barely a whisper, her French accent thick, but her question cut through the unwelcome silence.
Hermione hesitated for a moment, scared that she might upset Margaux by admitting she didn't have answers for Astoria. "Astoria wants to know what Draco likes," she admitted quietly, still staring at the stone floor. "But the truth is... I don't know. I've worked with him for months now, and I don't even know what it is that made him...feel anything for me."
Margaux lifted her head weakly, giving Hermione a tired but sympathetic look. "It's not about small details," she said slowly. "People fall in love... even they do not know why.
Hermione blinked, surprised at Margaux's insight. "But Astoria wants specifics. Things she can use to manipulate him into falling in love with her."
Margaux shook her head slightly, the motion making her wince in pain. "You cannot give her specifics because they exist not. Draco, he sees something in you that she cannot copy."
Suddenly, the heavy, creaking sound of the basement door being unlocked broke through her thoughts. Both women flinched as the door swung open, and Astoria walked in, looking as cold and composed as ever. Her face had returned to its natural sharp features, the effects of the polyjuice potion entirely worn off.
"I've found someone," Astoria said as she walked down the stairs, her tone casual as if she were discussing tea plans. "Cormac McLaggen. He'll officiate the vow. He's always had a thing for you, Hermione. I'm sure he won't mind keeping quiet if the deal benefits him."
Hermione's heart sank at the sound of Cormac's name. The casual cruelty in Astoria's voice only added to the suffocating dread that had been building inside her since this nightmare began. Of all the people Astoria could have chosen, it had to be him.
Astoria was pacing the room with an air of smug satisfaction, clearly pleased with herself. "He'll be here soon," she said as if this were some sort of grand plan falling perfectly into place. "And once the vow is done, you'll be his problem. Consider it a favour, really—he's been trying to get close to you for weeks, and once you help me get Draco to propose, I'll free you," she paused, her voice turning darker, "I'll entrust you to him."
Hermione's heart pounded, nausea creeping up her throat. This wasn't just about making an unbreakable vow anymore. Astoria was plotting to hand her over to Cormac like some twisted prize.
"This was not part of the deal," Hermione hissed, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug painfully into her palms.
Astoria, completely unfazed, raised an eyebrow. "I didn't specify the details, did I? You should have known there'd be consequences for trying to bargain with me, Hermione. You've been playing the hero for too long. Now it's time to face reality."
Hermione fought the urge to scream. "You're delusional if you think this is going to work. If you think Cormac will keep your secrets, you're even more delusional than I thought."
Astoria's eyes flashed with anger, but she quickly masked it with a cold smile. "Cormac, will be handsomely paid once he takes you back to Australia and I get access to the Malfoy fortune."
"You're making a mistake," Hermione said through gritted teeth, her voice barely above a whisper. "Cormac isn't going to listen to anyone. You can't control him."
Astoria's smirk grew wider. "You're the one who should be worried about Cormac. But don't worry, I'll make sure he keeps you... safe. After all, you're no use to me dead, Hermione. I'll still need access to that nest of hair on your head."
Her words hit Hermione like a physical blow, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. The implications were clear. Astoria had no intention of letting her go—at least, not in any way that resembled freedom.
"And what about Margaux?" Hermione asked, her voice breaking.
Astoria's gaze flicked to Margaux with a dismissive sneer. Without another word, she grabbed an apple from a nearby crate and threw it casually in Margaux's direction. The fruit rolled along the floor, stopping just short of Margaux's trembling fingers.
"There," Astoria said, her tone mocking, as if she were speaking to a child. "Now the dog is fed. Happy, Hermione?" She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling in a cold, condescending smile.
"Is this some kind of game to you?" Hermione spat, barely able to contain her fury.
Astoria's smirk faded slightly, a coldness settling into her eyes. "You don't understand, Hermione. You've never understood. This is aboutsurvival. Narcissa cast me aside like trash, and now I'm taking back what's mine. Draco."
With that, she turned on her heel and began to walking up the stairs toward the basement door, "I'll give Cormac a heads-up to hurry up. We can't keep you waiting too long, after all," she said over her shoulder, her voice dripping with mockery.
As the door slammed shut, Hermione's eyes darted to Margaux, who was shakily trying to reach for the apple, her hands trembling.
"I'm sorry, Margaux," Hermione whispered, guilt clawing at her insides. She shuffled closer to her friend, gently pushing the apple toward her. Margaux looked up with tired, grateful eyes, though her face was still etched with pain.
"Elle va me tuer," Margaux whispered, her voice frail.
"No," Hermione said firmly, gripping her friend's hand as tightly as she could. "I won't let her touch you. I won't leave you behind."
Margaux gave a small, sad smile, her lips barely curving as if the effort to do so was too much. "You are brave, Hermione."
Hermione shook her head. "No, you're stronger than I ever could be. She's had you here forweeks. I don't know how you've survived this long." Her voice softened with admiration, but her heart ached for Margaux, who had endured so much pain.
Margaux's eyes, clouded with exhaustion, seemed to drift somewhere far away as silence settled between them. There was a shared understanding between the two women—an unspoken bond forged through suffering and survival.
After what felt like an eternity, Margaux finally spoke, breaking the quiet with a soft, fragile voice. "I have one regret," she said, her words barely audible in the stillness.
Hermione remained quiet, urging her on with a gentle nod.
Margaux hesitated for a moment, her expression distant as if she were gathering the courage to speak. "Before all this, there was someone."
"What was their name?" Hermione asked lightly.
"Amélie," Margaux continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "I've loved her for so long, but I never said. I was too afraid. And now… I won't get the opportunity."
"Margaux, I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered, squeezing her hand gently.
Tears welled in Margaux's eyes. "It's not your fault. I… I wish I told her. Even if nothing happened. At least she could know."
"You'll tell her," Hermione said softly, her voice steady despite the growing pit in her stomach.
After a brief silence, Margaux spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. "Do you have regrets?"
Hermione swallowed hard, her mind flashing back to Draco. She hadn't allowed herself to dwell on her feelings for him, but now, in the cold reality of the basement, with death hanging over them like a shadow, the truth was harder to ignore.
"I don't know," Hermione began, her voice hesitant. "It's complicated."
"When you speak of Draco," Margaux said softly, her French accent lingering on his name, "it looks like you care for tu l'aimes."
Hermione's breath hitched in her throat at Margaux's words. She had buried those feelings deep for so long, hiding behind the professional façade she'd built between them. Draco Malfoy was supposed to be just a colleague, someone she had learned to work with, despite their tumultuous past. They had fought side by side and built a cautious respect for each other, but love?
The clarity of her own emotions crashed over her, undeniable in the face of death's looming presence. She had tried to keep things simple, practical. Draco had opened up to her, confessed something vulnerable, but Hermione had denied it, denied him—denied herself.
"I think I might," Hermione admitted, her voice barely audible, as if speaking the words aloud made them real.
Margaux gave her a sad but understanding smile. "C'est compliqué, l'amour," she said softly.
Before either of them could say anything more, the sound of footsteps echoed ominously down the staircase. From the darkness, Astoria emerged, her expression smug as usual. But this time, she wasn't alone.
Cormac McLaggen trailed behind her, his usual cocky demeanour noticeably gone and his bravado faltering at the sight of the grim, dimly lit basement. His eyes suddenly landed on Hermione, bound and weak, and the blood drained from his face.
He paused at the foot of the stairs, his gaze sweeping over their dishevelled figures. Hermione held Margaux's hand tightly, trying to provide some comfort, though her own fear was palpable. Cormac's eyes widened, and the weight of the situation seemed to dawn on him at once.
"What the hell is this?" he muttered, his voice shaky as he took in the sight before him. His gaze flicked nervously to Astoria, who remained calm and collected, her lips curling into a twisted smile.
"Relax, McLaggen," Astoria said smoothly, her voice laced with amusement. "You're here to officiate an Unbreakable Vow, not to play hero. That is, if you want the girl."
Hermione's heart sank. She had hoped Cormac would see reason, realise the severity of the situation, and somehow help them. But Astoria's words hung in the air like a noose tightening around their necks. Cormac wasn't a hero—he was an opportunist.
He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably as if reconsidering his involvement. "This isn't what I—" he began, but Astoria cut him off sharply.
"It's exactly what you agreed to," she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "You keep quiet, you get what you want, and everyone walks away. You wanted Hermione, didn't you? Well, after this vow, she'll be yours. You'll take care of her—just like we discussed."
Hermione felt sick to her stomach. The thought of being handed over to Cormac like some object, like a prize, sent a wave of nausea through her. She looked at Cormac, pleading silently with her eyes, begging him to recognise the madness of the situation and back out. He looked away.
"Well then," Astoria said, clapping her hands together, "It looks like it's time for the main event," Astoria drawled, her voice dripping with mockery as she glanced between Hermione and Margaux. "Let's get this vow over with, shall we?"
Hermione glanced at Margaux, her heart pounding so fiercely it felt like it was lodged in her throat. There was no winning here. If she failed to get Draco to propose to Astoria or tried to sabotage the plan, she would die. But if she succeeded, she would be handed over to Cormac like some object to be claimed.
She weighed her options, knowing that without magic, there was no escape for her or Margaux. The vow was the only way to buy them time, to gain even the slightest chance of survival. Slowly, painfully, Hermione forced herself to her feet, the chains around her wrists dragging her down like lead.
Astoria watched her with cold satisfaction, extending her hand in a silent command. A cold shiver ran down Hermione's spine as their hands made contact. Astoria's fingers curled around hers, tightening with an iron grip, a warning that there would be no turning back now.
Astoria seemed to relish this moment, her lips curving into a cruel smirk. "Let's make this simple," Astoria began, her voice low and menacing. "You help me. You get Draco to propose, and when he does, I'll release you into Cormac's care. Fail…" She let the threat hang in the air.
"I understand the terms," Hermione said through gritted teeth, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.
Astoria's smirk widened as she looked to Cormac, who stood awkwardly to the side, clearly uncomfortable but too cowardly to intervene. "And you, McLaggen," she purred, "you'll be the witness."
Cormac swallowed hard, but he nodded without a word. Hermione shot him a look, her eyes pleading for any sign of decency, any glimmer of hope that he might do something to help. But Cormac seemed as trapped as she was, ensnared by his own cowardice and greed.
Astoria raised her wand, but Margaux's voice cut across them before anyone could say anything, desperate and pleading. "No, Hermione! Please, don't do this!"
Hermione turned, her eyes locking with Margaux's. Her heart shattered at the sight of her friend's tear-filled eyes and the desperation in her voice. She wanted to tell her it would be okay, that they would both make it out of this alive—but before she could say anything, Astoria raised her wand, her face a mask of cold indifference.
"Avada Kedavra."
The green light burst from Astoria's wand, striking Margaux in the chest. She crumpled to the ground, her lifeless body collapsing in a heap.
"NO!" Hermione screamed, rushing forward to the ground, picking Margaux's limp form in her arms and cradling it. Tears streamed down her face as she held her friend. "How could you? Hasn't she suffered enough?" Hermione's voice broke as she glared up at Astoria, rage and grief crashing together in a chaotic storm within her.
Astoria's face remained unmoved, her expression as cold as ever. "She was of no use to me anymore."
Hermione's hands trembled as she looked down at Margaux's lifeless body, her mind spinning in disbelief. She had promised not to leave her behind, but now she was gone.
Cormac stood frozen beside Astoria as he looked at the spot where Margaux lay. A look of sheer horror now replaced his previous nervousness, as he finally seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation.
"If you tell anyone about this," Astoria said, turning her gaze to Cormac, her voice chillingly calm, "I'll kill Hermione next."
Cormac swallowed, his eyes darting between the two women. "I—I won't say anything," he stammered. "I'll do whatever you say."
Hermione's gaze locked onto Cormac's, and for the first time, he didn't look away. Her heart pounded as she felt the hot tears streaming down her face, her eyes pleading with him, begging silently for help. She could barely breathe, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest, and desperation flashed in her eyes.
Something flickered across his face for a moment—guilt, maybe even sympathy. Then, almost imperceptibly, he gave her a small nod, a subtle acknowledgement, as his gaze drifted down to Margaux's pale face.
Astoria wasn't fooled.
"You were right, Hermione," she said coldly. "He can't be trusted."
Before either of them could react, Astoria's wand flashed once more. Another burst of green light filled the room.
Cormac collapsed, dead before he hit the ground.
She was alone now. Alone with Astoria and the two bodies at her feet. The basement walls seemed to close in, suffocating her as Astoria's icy gaze settled on her.
"You should've known better, Hermione," Astoria said, her voice a whisper of menace. "Now it's just the two of us."