Chapter Text
Andromeda made a haunted sound amongst the rise and fall of heavy breathing.
It was unusual due to its unfamiliarity, a cry in the dark that broke the natural silence. Hermione’s dream of absolute black and the suppressive quiet it carried stuttered against the invasive whimpering until slumber twisted into sluggish wakefulness.
But it was the movement of magic behind her that yanked her forward toward consciousness, liquid and hot with it’s heady presence.
Bellatrix.
Hermione pressed against Bellatrix and felt her roll against her in a spoon. The weight of her betrothed curled against her back and the power held within her body was grounding against the discomfort that slithered through Hermione’s chest with the ache of the otherness .
Against her ear, Bellatrix grunted.
The bed bounced slightly, tightly occupied as it was, and a lazy arm stretched over Hermione’s waist until it rested on the belly of another body. Hermione inhaled the scent of hickory smoke and magic and found it mixed pleasantly with Andromeda’s more earthy potion-laced hues.
This wasn’t the first night they’d all shared together, crushed against one another as if they’d merge. It was just one of the first their slumber had been interrupted.
On the other side of Andromeda, Narcissa muttered a drowsy, “Bella.”
Bellatrix made a rumbling sound and Hermione observed the flicker of movement beneath Andromeda’s still closed eyes.
When Andromeda whimpered again, Bellatrix thoughtlessly pressed the both of them closer. Hermione didn’t mind the sensation of pressure, nor the urgent beat of Andromeda’s reactive magic. She shivered within the hold of its needy curl and threw one leg over Andromeda’s own.
In the sliver of moonlight from the nearby window, Hermione watched sweat creep across Andromeda’s furrowed brow. She hissed to the darkness, defeated and weak, “ Don’t. ”
And Bellatrix’s hand fisted against the shirt Andromeda wore.
“Meda,” Bellatrix lulled, in a tone Hermione had never quite heard from her before, “I’m here.”
Andromeda shook in the grips of her dream until Narcissa curled against her, brushing her leg across Hermione’s own as they captured Andromeda between them. Yet, even utterly held Andromeda still keened to the dark.
Melodic and soft, Bellatrix called out to her, “You’re safe, Meda. Big sister is here.”
Hermione watched the pinched expression on Andromeda’s safe soften and gasped with wonder at the warmth that came from the tugging lure of Bellatrix’s drowsy magic. Its sorophic weight caused Hermione’s eyes to flutter shut as something within her obeyed the unspoken order to calm.
Andromeda took a stuttering breath and as Hermione rested her head against Andromeda’s shoulder she felt some of her tension leave her.
As Hermione snuggled closer, pushed gently by the grumbling body at her back to do so, she heard Narcissa’s hypnotic whispers against Andromeda’s ear.
“That’s right. We’re here, Andy… Dolores will pay for what she did.”
Andy exhaled in a low growl that had Hermione sighing against her skin.
“Sleep for me, Andy.” Narcissa drawled, “You need your rest to get big and strong, as a big sister should be. Don’t you want to protect Hermione and I? We’re so inexperienced, however will we remain safe..?”
Andromeda snarled and Hermione swallowed a moan. At her back Bellatrix snorted.
“You’re winding her up.”
The bed bounced again as Narcissa stretched draped an arm across Andromeda’s shoulder to gently scratch at Hermione’s scalp.
Oh. Yes… Hermione melted.
“I’m giving her better dreams,” Narcissa replied, “and returning her to her purpose.”
Andromeda sighed out a slurred, “Cissa...”
As Hermione succumbed to the warmth of their bodies, she pondered the nature of curses, dreams, and the undeniable truth of family.
When she opened her eyes again, it was to creep of dawn and the sight of the child bouncing on Bellatrix's chest.
“H-harry?” Hermione sat up quickly, only to nearly bump heads with a hovering Luna.
The rest of the bed slept on without issue, even as Harry gently poked Bellatrix’s cheeks.
“Quickly,” Luna husked, her gaze glowing in the slivers of sunlight that fought through the blinds of the window, “we must prepare.”
For what? Only Hermione’s absolute trust in Luna kept her from voicing the question. Luna did not often command, but when she did…
Well, Hermione’s body listened.
With practiced ease Hermione disentangled herself from the pile of warmth and limbs. Taking care not to jostle Andromeda’s injured hand as she squirmed from Bellatrix's possessive grasp, Hermione slipped from the bed.
Luna stood patiently.
“C-come here, Harry,” Hermione whispered. The child gave a testing bounce on Bellatrix's chest before they went to Hermione’s open arms.
Bellatrix’s warning growl froze her in place, but the woman did not wake.
Narcissa, however, had.
“Hermione…” Narcissa whispered, drowsy with a seductive touch of French-kissed dialect. “Where are you...?”
Hermione shivered under the slow probe of Narcissa’s magic; curious, hungry, and cold . It swept over the warmth of her skin and sought to infuse her with an unnatural weight, greedy for the heat Hermione’s own magic could provide it. Her knees trembled as exhaustion loomed, coaxed to the front of her mind by the casual press of Narcissa’s mental calling.
Come back to bed, Narcissa’s magic whispered, I’ve more warmth to take from you.
She held Harry tighter in the patchwork dark and she fought against the unnatural desire to return to sleep, held and encased by the women on the bed.
An hour or two more of sleep wouldn’t hurt would it? One more hour of silent surrender --
“No,” Luna husked, a hovering presence over the one who’d sought to summon her.
Hermione stepped closer, concerned by Luna’s proximity to the Lady of the manor, while Harry bounced impatiently against her hip. Her Companion only spared her a glance before she returned the endless silver of her gaze back to the woman held entranced by them.
Nacissa furrowed her brow as Luna loomed closer. “Miss Lovegood?” She muttered.
“Good Morning,” Luna said, tone low and pulling, “she’s mine now, Lady Malfoy. At least for these moments.”
Narcissa twisted slightly until she was flat on her back, still held utterly by the press of Luna’s gaze. Hermione felt their magic tangle, one soothing and shy. The other chilling as it pushed with indignation.
Then something happened .
Luna sighed with a hint of pleasure and Narcissa shivered beneath her. Some portion of Narcissa had been captured and now it was being rocked and settled. The tension that had lined Narcissa’s brow eased as her eyes fluttered.
“Mm, that’s it.” Luna murmured, “It’s my turn to play with Hermione now.”
“I see…” Narcissa drawled with barely open eyes, “I feel…”
“Tired,” Luna answered for Narcissa, “you’ve time to sleep and you need it. You need to play your part, don’t you?”
A strange oily thrilled swept up Hermione’s spine and she stepped ever closer. She could practically taste the way Luna held Narcissa, how her magic smothered her with gentle pressure. Hermione knew what that felt like, to be moved and manipulated with practiced certainty. Luna held onto the important pieces of Narcissa with a startling amount of experience and care.
As Luna met her gaze, Hermione knew why.
“They fell apart without you here.” Luna smiled slightly. “But I put them back together.”
Forcefully. Calmly. Absolutely.
Luna had mastered something beyond them, she wondered how Narcissa felt about it.
Good , if her soft sigh was any indication.
“When Miss Tonks went missing Lady Malfoy forgot how to sleep… But I am your Companion, Hermione, and it is my honor and right to keep them sane for you.”
The otherness rolled in her chest, enthralled, as Hermione watched Narcissa fall to Luna’s influence. The very power held in the walls now hummed with a subdued petulance. Luna tsked and gently brushed a strand of golden hair from Narcissa’s face.
Hermione thought she looked beautiful there, fighting sleep and failing.
“The Dark Lord has returned,” Luna said, “there’s much to tell you.”
Hermione held onto Harry tightly, an instinctive reaction. The fear she expected never came, replaced by a dull curiosity of what would soon come.
And a more inhuman desire. There was much she wished to beg of her Lord.
“Do they… have time?” Hermione asked.
“To sleep? Oh yes, I’m quite early, but I wish to bond with you, now that Nymphadora and I have returned.”
Hermione licked her bottom lip and adjusted Harry’s weight, “She’s fighting you.”
“Yes,” Luna confirmed what Hermione could feel, the rebellious writhing of Narcissa’s held magic. “They missed you terribly . We all did.”
Hermione closed her eyes with understanding. After Bellatrix’s return they’d been inseparable. Bellatrix and Narcissa had stalked about the manor as her shadows, sneering and huffing at any person to linger too long in her presence. The only person they appeared to tolerate was Pansy, who had seemed quite irritated by their perstering supervision.
“If she sleeps, where will you go?”
Hermione gave Luna a sadarnic smile, “Nowhere. I hope.”
“Who could possibly know?” Luna shrugged, “You’re a criminal after all and you’ve disappeared before.”
In the budding light that stretched across them, Hermione saw Luna, sharp and vivid. Her own gaze drooped with beat-back exhaustion, and her hair was stringy and brittle. Despite Hermione’s sudden return they still worried. Umbridge had yet to return since Andromeda’s wand hand was mutilated, their Lord had been missing until now and… Harry Potter lived , barely hidden within the manor.
Wherever Narcissa had sent them off too when they’d first discovered the child, Hermione hadn’t asked her.
Slowly, Hermione sat on the edge closest to Narcissa, “I don’t want to leave her awake like this. Half aware and not. This won’t help her get any sleep.” Hermione wrinkled her nose, “Let me help. I can calm her.”
Luna looked up with a hollow gaze, “Oh?”
“Let me show you,” Hermione whispered, the space between them charged and intimate.
“Yes,” Luna tilted her head, “I’d like to see it.”
Luna took a giggling Harry from her arms and Hermione turned to press against Narcissa.
“Narcissa,” Hermione started, “you need to sleep. They’ll need you, I’ll need you, if our Lord has truly returned.”
Narcissa held onto the edge of her nightgown, her fingers trembling.
“Hermione…” Narcissa held Hermione’s gaze though her own was unfocused and glassy, “p-please don’t go to our Lord alone. Wait for me, for us…”
Hermione nodded, “I will.”
Narcissa shook her head, “I’ll… get up. I can’t sleep like this. Not knowing.”
Hermione understood that, more than anything. They were at a tipping point, staring out at the unknown, afraid of becoming nothing . Yet, she knew there would never be peace until she ventured toward it, destroying those who meant to tear her from her goals.
No Order, nor Umbridge, would keep her from ruling.
Hermione hummed softly, “You’ve time. I won’t go alone.”
Narcissa squinted with disbelief, “Hermione, you don’t function the way you did before. Do not go to the Dark Lord.”
Soon enough they’d all know what she was missing.
Hermione would have to play dirty.
“I won’t go if I’m not with you,” Hermione cooed, “but you can’t come if you’re exhausted.
Would you please sleep for me, Big Sister?”
Narcissa hissed and tightened her grip while giddiness stirred within Hermione’s belly. Very briefly she felt Narcissa’s fury, and all at once her body craved it. But it folded, warped, and slipped away as Narcissa closed her eyes and stilled.
Downed by the compulsion of her own damned blood.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re cunning.” Luna whispered.
Hermione smiled and motioned for Luna to lead the way.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Luna fed her an early breakfast of rich meats, and fruits that felt sinfully decadent. They spent the time in the grand breakfast room in silence, alone with their feet interlocked and idly playing.
Tonks was upon her immediately after, ravenous and inconsolable when as soon as she stepped foot outside the room. Her touch was firm and unrelenting. Her lips soft and wet, her teeth nipping. It was difficult to say where Hermione ended and Tonks began, only that the resonating hum of their bodies against one another filled Hermione with a melodic euphoria. Tonks touch, more desperate than exploratory, pushed and pulled upon her flesh. Kneading even, as if she’d split Hermione down and center and devour her essence.
But the odd motions, sensual and overwhelming, only coaxed Hermione’s magic to the surface and deeper still, her fractured soul .
Tonks grunting moan against Hermione’s lips filled them both with a primal excitement and were Luna not suddenly there, pulling firmly on the riotous curls Tonks currently sported--closer to Hermione’s own than any Black’s--they might have remained directly outside the breakfast room together, grinding against one another like hormonal teenagers.
“Enough of that,” Luna sighed, though it lacked any exasperation, “The soul-ache will ease now that we’re here, no need to consume her.”
Hermione thunked her head against the wall and Tonks flushed with embarrassment.
“Sorry ‘bout that. Wotcher, Hermione! I’m back from my mysterious trip.”
“Hello, Tonks,” Hermione replied, curious about the liquid depths of Tonks distracted gaze. “I’m… sorry, did it hurt to be so far away?”
Hermione still had little information about their bond, only that Tonks was more horcrux than not. Like Luna, her parlor was also unnaturally pale and there was a fine tremble to her arms.
Tonks did not sugarcoat her longing, “ Yesss ,” she snarled.
Hermione gasped as nerves twisted through her belly, Tonks look of intensity stirring memories of the first night Bellatrix had returned to her, wild and unbound.
She licked her bottom lips and kept her voice even, “I’ll make it up to you.”
Tonks closed her eyes and shuddered, “You better survive.”
“I will.”
Luna gave them both a bit of a look before she moved off, further down the hall. As Hermione moved to follow, Tonks pushed her back against the wall, drawing Hermione’s attention back to her.
“Tonks?”
Tonks kept Hermione trapped with the incessant press of her hips, “Just a moment, Hermione…”
Her hands slipped low, down over the swell of Hermione’s hips to seek the warmth of her thighs beneath the lace of her gown. She drew her nails over exposed skin and Hermione groaned from the thudding weight in her chest and the awakened throb of her sex.
Tonks sucked in a harsh breath as if she could feel the unfurling heat that rolled through Hermione’s blood.
But they did not have time to stroke or touch, and though Hermione’s hips jerked from the thrill of Tonks worship, she still had much to prepare for.
It was clear the household thought she’d be summoned soon and that the Dark Lord’s return had infused them with maddening yearning.
“Attend to me.” Hermione growled, and Tonks moaned as the order tickled her ears.
“My fuckin’ pleasure.” Tonks sneered as she aggressively tossed Hermione over her shoulder.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Tonks had the sort of snore that reminded Hermione distinctively of her mother, some deep and softer sound than Bellatrix carried. Adorable.
“This is the first time she’s slept like this.”
Hermione looked away from the bed beyond the bathroom door, where the warmth of her humancrux called out to her. It wouldn’t do well to succumb to the call, now that she was dressed with the heat of the Dark Lord’s locket matching the beat of her heart. “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.”
Luna gave her a solemn glare, “Don’t be.”
After Tonks had bathed Hermione, she’d gone to the bedroom at Luna’s insistence. It was difficult to resist the tug of their bonding, and the horcrux in Tonks was practically screaming with longing. Hermione could feel it, hear it , in the way only magic was heard. Though there was little shame in her body from her indulge some portion of her wasn’t pleased at the damage her disappearance had done. Those few endless moments in the hollow void of darkness had been enough to nearly destroy the work Hermione had done.
“It isn’t your fault,” Luna hummed. “Those who should be punished will be soon.”
Hermione only hoped her Lord would give her the necessary permission to do so.
“Luna, the Order--”
“Yes, I know.”
Luna shuffled over to a nearby door, one that led to a pocketed space filled with soft blues and discarded toys. From beyond the doorway Harry waddled over, smiling and vibrant and wrong .
Dead, and not.
Hermione shivered.
“Harry, let’s get ready to see the Dark Lord. Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell Her?”
Hermione stiffened as Harry nodded.
“Wait, we can’t… She might--we need to explain first that--”
Luna softly interrupted her, “we will hide nothing from our Lord.”
But where had they been before Her return?
Hadn’t that been hiding?
“From the unworthy, Hermione.” Luna wrinkled her nose, “Come along.”
Hermione scrambled from her chair to follow Luna toward the inground bath, “Wait! Did you read my mind?”
“I read your… expression. They’re still sometimes human.”
Hermione swallowed, “Good to know.”
For a brief moment Luna looked... pained, but Hermione’s warped humanity was not her fault.
Right?
“Luna.”
Beneath her breath, Luna whispered, “My Goddess.”
That phrase had been whispered with such awe and reverence that something low in Hermione’s being shivered with pleasure. She rubbed her chest absently, shaken by the reaction as the otherness within her pressed against her skin-- wanting, needing --
“Hermione?” Luna’s voice came to her, tunneled and small, “I’m going to give Harry a bath now.”
Hermione nodded, and closed her eyes. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
When she opened them Luna was holding onto Harry by their ankles --
“Luna?!”
Hermione quickly stepped forward, if only to correct Luna’s hold on the child. How could she--why would she--
Wait.
“H-harry?”
Harry’s body, shed of its elegant robes, was different. Thick carvings and rune like stitching ate of the expanse of what was once unmarked skin. It looked like someone had taken a ceremonial blade to the child and had carefully pinned in symbols she’d never seen before. They were angry, red, and splashed with colored ink, but worse than that the runes looked alive .
They pulsed as her eyes crawled over them.
Her knees felt weak from the abnormal vision and slowly she lowered them both to the ground before the tub.
“ Oh Harry, what is this…?”
Luna knelt beside her while Harry stared at the floor, blank and stiff, “We took a trip to France when you first returned. Madam Malfoy wished for us to speak to the fairies. We didn’t find them though, so we still aren’t sure.”
Hermione gently held onto Harry’s wrists and felt the thick flow of magic that oozed from them. The markings twitched in time to Harry’s breathing.
“Do they hurt?” Hermione said.
Harry did not look up from the floor, “Uh-huh. It always hurts, Hermy. Cuz’ a the study.”
In the back of her mind she heard a low sound, a haunted wail-- Lilyshanks .
“I wanna tell the Dark Lord, Hermy! I’m not scared of ‘em!”
Hermione wasn’t sure if she could properly process fear, but she still knew an act of madness when she saw one.
Still, before she could correct Harry, Luna gently manipulated them into the warmth of the bath.
Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head, still burdened by the oozing feeling of the magic that surrounded Harry. Magic that felt familiar and not. Magic that called to the weight of the locket.
“Harry feels so much like… Her.” Hermione mumbled.
As Harry splashed and giggled Luna answered, “They’re almost the same, I think.”
Hermione frowned, “What do you mean?”
Luna tilted her head for a moment, “Harry feels like the locket.”
Harry felt like a horcrux .
Hermione quickly whipped a towel from a nearby bundle, nearly falling into the tub as it hit her from the force of her wordless summons. She reached for the splashing child, now knowing how she’d save them. The Dark Lord had left to find her, more than that, She’d left to find Harry Potter . McGonagall had seen Harry, had known the Golden One lived.
That knowledge had landed some of her friends in Azkaban. Hiding Harry’s existence wouldn’t save anyone, Luna was right. Secrets weren’t meant to be kept from her sponsor. Yet, presenting the child as her Lord’s horcrux? That… that might be something. Something to rescue her friends. Something to provide the push she’d need for her request.
Luna gave her a whimsy faroff look, “Susan Bones is your barrister, would you like me to schedule a quick tea before you are summoned?”
“Yes.” Hermione grunted, holding Harry tucked under her arm as the child clapped. Though she hesitated at the entrance to the bedroom and frowned. “Luna?”
“Yes, Hermione?”
“Did they…” Here Hermione paused to motion Luna further, so she could whisper-- “ mutilate Harry?”
“With the runes?” Luna replied.
“No. His… it’s not there, you know?”
Luna blinked owlishly, “Oh, yes it wouldn’t be. You did that, remember?”
“I.. I what?” Hermione hissed.
“The ritual changed our Lord, remember?” Luna tilted her head, “ If Harry is the Dark Lord’s living horcrux. Then, I think they also would?
The Dark Lord obtained the perfect vassal due to your blood and magic. Harry has too, that’s all.”
Luna played with one of Harry’s toes then as Hermione numbly walked to the closet, “I think Harry will grow up to be quite devilish. Her hair is already getting quite long like our Lord’s. I just wonder what Harry would like to be called. Lord or Lady? What do you think?”
“I think I need you to help me pick out something innocent and redeeming for Harry.”
Hermione would ponder whether Harry would prefer to be called Harri later.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
When the Dark Lord called for her, she forgot everything .
How to breath. How to speak. How to be .
She was nothing . Just an empty body to be called--no, not even that.
Hermione was just magic to be controlled and used and her Lord had deemed it time to do so.
She burned without end, drawn to her feet--of which she could not feel--by the pulsating agony that swept from the Mark on her arm. The teacup she’d held clattered to the floor, raining chunks of porcelain across reflecting marble while her company stood, alert and aware that she was not there . Her essence, her body, her mind, it all belonged to Her .
She turned to leave and found herself restrained, held tightly by shuddering arms and embraced by the heavy pressure of familiar controlling power.
Against her ear Narcissa hissed, “You will not leave without me.”
But Hermione wasn’t sure who ‘you’ was.
Feet clattered beyond her, but Hermione could not see. She stared, unblinking, toward the wall in her pretty robes and waited-- release me, her magic screamed, so that I may obey my Lord. My Master.
The arms around her tightened and unrelenting cold battered against her core. She hunched in the grip of the woman who held her--it was Narcissa still wasn’t it?--before she was turned into the embrace of another pair of arms. Both of them pressed magic upon her and she buckled, weak and contained as her magic crumbled, addicted to being smothered.
“There we are,” Bellatrix rumbled, “See? No problem, Cissy. Our Lord just called her a bit strongly. We’ve got it.”
Hermione blinked into the light and remembered she was a body, a witch , with feelings.
The burning ebbed but did not retreat, it’s pain seductive and questioning-- why had she not come?
“I need to go,” Hermione croaked, head lolling, “I must answer Her call.”
Bellatrix gently tugged at her curls, as if the pain of her pull would be distracting. It only mingled deliciously with the urge to embrace her Marked servitude. Were Hermione not being held, she would have twisted into a sloppy apparition, desperate to be before her Lord.
How long would Voldemort wait for her?
“Ms. Bones, could you go ahead?”
Behind Hermione there came a clatter of feet, but Bellatrix held her head firmly, her face buried against her neck. She inhaled deeply and enjoyed the scent of smoke and power. She used Bellatrix’s familiarity to push back at the burn as her mind danced to visions of Gothic dust and sprawling vine.
Devour me , she thought carelessly.
Bellatrix growled against her ear, “You try to stir me, Hermione, to tease me, and we’ve no time for it.”
Hermione swallowed thickly, unaware that her magic had tangled so intimately with the woman who held her. But now she could feel it, a strange nonverbal begging that reminded Hermione intensely of their shared encounter in the hallway so many moons ago, when she’d been new and excited and foolish. Had this been anyone but Bellatrix, she wouldn’t have been able to resist her magic-meddling.
Because it was Bellatrix she still remembered the sting of Voldemort’s punishment.
She groaned against Bellatrix’s neck and heard further rustling. This was so embarrassing.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Bellatrix chuckled, “we were prepared for this either way.”
Hermione had not been prepared to be mindless in front of Susan nor the awakened Manor that had come to greet them. She decided to ignore Bellatrix’s mind against her own. It was one of the only things keeping her from forgetting she had a body.
“Harry?”
Bellatrix huffed, “Potter is with Lovegood.”
Excellent.
“Andromeda--” Narcissa’s strained whisper came from a bit further away, rushed. “You cannot and mustn't go.”
Hermione spared a glance over Bellatrix's shoulder and saw the potion-addled woman hovering in the threshold. Her expression was pinched and her forehead was sweat-slick as she held her trembling injured hand. Hermione wanted to comfort her, but the burn was returning with an impatient favor.
“Cissa,” Andromeda whined, “I can’t stay here. If… this is the last time I see her--”
“--go to bed, Meda,” Narcissa said firmly and Hermione shivered from the blanket of her magic, “I won’t let them take her.”
And while Andromeda wavered, her will already weakened by the potions Narcissa had given her, it was Bellatrix she looked at.
Bellatrix tightened her hold, “I won’t let them take what’s ours . I’ll protect her, listen to your sister.”
Andromeda exhaled very slowly before she stepped away from the door, though Hermione was quick to call out--
“I will be back, Andy. Our Lord is different from the Order. She won’t jump to conclusions, no matter her ire.”
They’d done nothing wrong and Hermione was not afraid to prove that.
Bellatrix winced and looked at her arm, the snake within the skull was frantically writhing, “ Hoo shit, I’m gonna lose it. Let’s go!”
Narcissa gave Andromeda a stern nod and a firm push through the threshold before she turned to hold onto Bellatrix's arm.
They were gone after that, though Hermione did not miss Andromeda’s look of longing.
Susan was upon her as soon as they landed, “Shame our talk got interrupted.”
Hermione felt the same. The Hufflepuff from her school tenure had changed since Voldemort’s reign. She’d sprouted up into a magnificent figure, with her red hair bound in a professional braid and her barrister robes a soft night blue. The slacks she wore beneath the traditional wizard garb were striking on her lean legs and she made a powerful figure opening the Wizengamot doors and silencing the room with just a click of her heels.
It was clear to Hermione she was someone important, someone who had chosen to represent her.
With Susan already within the chamber, Bellatrix, Narcissa stepped into the room as one with Hermione between them.
The chamber was packed , the lordship booths full, and beyond her vision she saw Draco in his booth with his father, Snape only a seat below them. The lantern lighting of the space was a dragonfire green and the sharp face of Lord Parkinson looked strained beside his daughters. Some of the other lords were cast in acute shadow, glaring out with greed from their elegant sections.
But it was Voldemort that stole Hermione’s breath, striking as She settled upon Her throne with Nagini wrapped around the obsidian stone. She was draped in the scales and fur of beasts She’d slain, hard won from Her Hunts and the lords She’d conquered. Nude before Her court and the judgement of magic, those treasures that reflected Her might framed Her with an ominous beauty. It was a draw that made Hermione want to crawl to Her on her belly.
And the vision assaulted her suddenly with an invasive heat that stirred from the locket. In her mind's eye she was crawling, begging for forgiveness until she was right before Her throne and anointing Her bare feet with the tears of her regrets. In the vision Voldemort did not acknowledge her, She clacked Her wicked nails upon Her throne’s arm and conducted business as if Hermione were dirt. And she was, wasn’t she, compared to Her--
Bellatrix casually pinched her arm.
“Breath,” she whispered, “don’t let our Lord’s irritation consume you.”
Easier said than done.
Around the Dark Lord stood several Death Eaters, all of them masked and dressed ceremoniously official. Hermione, herself, had been dressed for the occasion. Though she did not sport her battle leathers, she had worn her finest outer robes open with Voldemort’s locket and her engagement dagger clearly seen, settled at the front of her body, elaborate and bragging. Her blouse was the color of Voldemort’s house, her slacks and heels a simple black. Modest, but clear in her loyalty and service. House Granger was a vassal of Slytherin, first and nothing more. Most of the lords in their fancy booths would see that.
But she needed Voldemort to do so first.
“Welcome back, Deserter Hermione Granger, heir apparent to my house.”
The crowd swayed to Voldemort’s sibilant hiss and Hermione curtseyed deeply in response, ignoring the slight against her name. To the floor she whispered, humble and demure, “Thank you for the welcome, my Lord-Mother. My Sun.”
A murmur ran through the space, a ripple of magic, the onset of excitement.
“There have been crimes committed by you, so says the Ministry and those of its house.”
Hermione did not look up from the floor, but she could feel the glare of Umbridge from somewhere in the room, “I wish to deny the claims of the Ministry house. I’ve committed no crime.”
An eerie hush fell over the crowd and Hermione heard the shift of Voldemort’s scaled armor, “Very well. Take your place for the proceedings. You’re to be judged by your brethren and those of the Inner Circle.”
The dim lighting of the chamber brightened, displaying two simple booths with several chairs. Hermione backed up slowly to the one closest to her, still maintaining her bow as she did so. When she felt Bellatrix’s guiding hand, she rose to sit in their claimed stand along with Susan and Narcissa. Bellatrix stood outside the booth with the curling whip of her magic around them, a sentinel that made most of the gawking lordship look elsewhere.
Across the way Umbridge and Pius sat, both of them dressed extravagantly.
Pius cleared his throat, “My Lord, the Minister House is here in support of House Umbridge, the Ministry sponsors her as it did six months ago but we are allowing House Umbridge to, once more, provide its own evidence for those within the justice body today.”
Nearby Hermione noticed the click clack of an enchanted typewriter and spied Rita Skeeter attending her duties as record keeper from the corner of her eye.
Then Umbridge coughed with a loud ‘hem hem’ and Hermoine’s attention zeroed back upon her.
“My Lord, I do so hate to waste your time with all this. Deserter Granger was already determined to be guilty during the former Headmistress of Hogwarts’ trial. This body voted, after I provided irrefutable memory evidence, that Deserter Granger has been--and may still be--working for the Order. This is just another ploy by the House of Black to seize power from you, my most gracious--”
“--when did that vote take place?” Susan interrupted, her gaze upon her paperwork while Umbridge sputtered.
“What? Little girl, I was talking--”
“--answer the question,” came a voice to the right of the Dark Lord, strong and clear despite the mask the Death Eater wore, “do not waste our Lord’s time.”
Umbridge swallowed, “Four of the high and elevated, they voted four seats each that Deserter Granger was dangerous and unfit to live.”
Susan continued to speak without missing a beat, “My Lord, when did you call the Hunt for Lady Granger?”
Something tight unfurled with relief at the sound of Susan addressing her properly .
Voldemort hummed gently, “I did not remain for the vote of the body. I called the Hunt to track down Deserter Granger before the judgement verdict.”
Hermione shivered as Voldemort met her gaze and nearly drowned in the restrained fanatical beat that crawled in the depths there.
“Lady Granger is a high ranking member adjacent to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Slytherin, to call this a waste of our Lord’s time is a disservice to Her House. The matter of desertion is secondary to the claim of betrayal--”
Umbridge sneered “Don’t give me that, girl! The vote of this body six months ago was certainly in agreement that Deserter Granger committed treason .”
“Ah, I’m sorry. Let me rephrase,” Susan drawled, “I mean to say that this matter is personal to our Lord and the future of Her entire estate--nay, this entire country and body. Do you feel you are in a position, Umbridge of Lesser House Umbridge, to call the final judgement and push for a verdict the Lord of House Slytherin did not oversee?”
The lordship hissed and muttered and Hermione felt their wave of displeasure sweep through her magic, thick and unhappy.
“Are you Lordtrix and Mother of House Slytherin? Can you claim, without doubt, that this adjacent member--and heir apparently, I’d like to remind our governing body--is abhorrently guilty and thus cannot be judged by her Head?”
Umbridge flushed a deep tomato red, “I… she is guilty, the evidence provided stated as much. Her betrayal should not be used to bother our Lord--”
“--her betrayal was linked to Order marked activity. The explosion of Hogwarts is a huge bother, one that I shall bring before our Lord--with Her permission and grace.”
Voldemort’s lips twitched and Her eyes glittered with subtle amusement. “You may bring it before me, Barrister Bones.”
Umbridge opened her mouth as if to deny Susan power, but she had already stood tall within the booth and motioned toward the center of the room with her wand, “Than, I’d like to address several things in this session. Lady Granger’s innocence. Her circumstance and framing as a betrayer were done by machinations beyond her control.”
The whispers of the court grew louder, their excitement a buzz that rattled in Hermione’s skull.
“And who do you proclaim did these awful things to Deserter Granger, who everyone adores since she gained power from our Lord? I’d like to remind this body that Granger was nothing before our Lord gave her power and that she was, during the war, a loyal member of the accursed Order!”
As the crowd spoke amongst themselves Voldemort gave a wave of wrist, idle and bored. Susan paid neither the Dark Lord nor Umbridge’s crowing any mind and instead flicked up her wand, causing a wavering image to display itself to the courthouse.
“I’d like to present the body Ms. Umbridge version of the memory.”
Hermione watched with barely concealed disgust as Ginny, swaying but focused, muttered a sequence of spells at a parchment. In between every spell she’d set up along the Hogwarts walls she hissed ‘where is she?’ and ‘where is Hermione?’. Susan let the entire thing play out and soon Ginny was holding onto Umbridge, having captured her spying upon her trap laying, her face expressing relief at Hermione’s appearance. It was here Susan slowed down the memory, playing it out like recorded Muggle footage.
“You look confused here, Lady Granger.” Susan said.
“I was confused. Startled. Baffled.” Hermione replied, “I was not expecting to see Ginerva there.”
In her booth Umbridge yelled, “Liar, it was clear to me and this body six months ago and Weasley was expecting you there.”
Susan shrugged but seemed unbothered, “Hm. Interesting.”
“This body should consider that Granger may have been projecting false emotion or even surprised for unrelated reasons. Weasley seemed frantic when she set off those spells, perhaps it was a plan gone wrong?” Umbridge smiled sickenly toward the lordship seats.
Hermione’s face twisted in a snarl but Narcissa’s gentle hand upon her shoulder grounded her. The steady relaxed flow of her magic was a balm upon the fury that rattled her chest. It gave Hermione a moment to push out her irritation away and out, down through her legs to the bottom of her feet. Breath , Bellatrix had said. She had nothing to be worried about.
Susan hummed thoughtfully, “Lady Granger is no Slytherin. I’ll remind the body that that’s a skill often beyond most, if not all, Gryffindors.”
One of the standing Death Eaters laughed and a few more of the court followed. Even Draco struggled to maintain his expression of bored indifference.
“What does Hogwarts Houses have to do with this?”
Susan grinned, “Probably nothing.”
But some sort of seed had been planted. Some of the lordship looked more relaxed, less tense and eager to witness her destruction. Strange that.
Susan let the rest of the memory play. Ginerva proclaimed that Hermione had meant to kill Draco Malfoy, just the way Hermione remembered it, stiff and emotionless. Umbridge threw out the orb that had trapped her within a hell of absolution and when Hermione’s own spell collided with it there was a massive vacuum. The rest of the memory was Umbridge hiding, sniveling like a frightened child.
Despite that, Umbridge grinned in the picked up ambiance of the court, as several eyes turned to glare at Hermione.
Breath .
“Hermione?” Susan said as she motioned her forward. Hermione rose gracefully and mimicked all the mannerism of a pureblood as she stood beside her. “I’ve some questions for you.”
Hermione followed protocol, having listened to court sessions on Potterwatch during the war. “I will answer truthfully and completely.”
“Appreciate that,” Susan smiled. “What were you doing at Hogwarts?”
“I wanted to visit the then Headmistress, McGonagall.”
Umbridge took this time to interrupt, “Did you? For what, exactly? I’d like to remind our body that Deserter Granger is banned from Hogwarts grounds and isn’t to ever go near there, least she be suspected of delinquent activity. It is the same ban imposed on all former Order members who were not placed for employment within Hogwarts.”
“I was allowed to go that day, should I have an escort.”
Someone in a Death Eater mask said, “Really? Who gave the call? There are very few among the lordship with that ability.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes, “Is that relevant to the case?”
Voldemort shifted slightly with a soft laugh that pulled at something low in Hermione’s body. “We are already aware of who gave the call. They were cleared of delinquency and disciplined for their… ignorance.”
Hermione winced as she heard a soft whimper. Draco had shrugged down into his seat, his face a mixed of embarrassed misery and unnatural desire.
Narcissa stared at Hermione’s back so intensely she felt frost lick up the length of her spine. Hermione cleared her throat, resisted a shudder, and tried to move forward quickly, “I had an escort. That was the only rule.”
“Who?” Another voice from the crowd said.
“Me,” Pansy snarled, pretty in her anger, “Do you have any other questions? Something to say to me?”
From a booth down the voice that had asked audibly gulped, “I... why would you--”
Pansy didn’t wait for the question to finish, “Because she is my Lord’s chosen Firstblood and I intended to be her vassal. Do you have a problem?”
The man in the booth hunkered down but Umbridge was quick to follow up, “A poor vassal you must have made if you let your Lady get into such trouble.”
For one split moment it looked as if Pansy was going to leap down from her booth and tear Umbridge apart. Only the hand on her shoulder and Susan’s deep unimpressed sigh kept them seated.
“Record Keeper, could you strike that nonsense Ms. Umbridge said from the record? It’s character conjecture and a slight against House Parkinson. I wouldn’t want them to demand tribute in the middle of this session.”
“Done,” Rita replied, even as she laughed along with some of the other court lordship.
Umbridge was not happy about that. She was especially not happy when Narcissa mumbled, “Has Umbridge ever paid tribute to anyone? Where is House Granger’s flesh and blood from the last time we attended one of her circuses?”
Susan did not ask for that to be struck and Rita continued to manage the typewriter happily. Umbridge only tossed a finger in Narcissa’s direction.
“Why is House Malfoy allowed to sponsor a traitor? Six months ago her very sister was taken to Azkaban for Order collusion and refraining from giving information.”
Bellatrix whipped her head toward Umbridge so fast Hermione felt sympathy pangs in her neck. Her soft utterance of, “Quiet.” struck the entire court to silence.
“You’ve no right to say what you do,” Bellatrix continued, though the intensity of her black gaze pressed hard upon Pius.
He quickly stepped in, “T-the Ministry apologizes for the mutilation of Andromeda Tonks nee` Black’s wand hand. After investigation done by Commander Yaxley it was discovered former Order member Andromeda did not purposely withhold information about the Order resurgence. The Order afflicted her with a tongue-tying curse. It was involuntary.”
Voldemort shifted ever so slightly, head tilted as Nagini hissed something in Her ear, “You mutilated a woman of Black’s wand hand?”
A rumble struck the walls, just an idle shake, and Pius stuttered, “My Lord, Undersecretary Umbridge is in charge of House Affairs and the direction of its cabinet.”
Umbridge nodded rapidly, preening under the attentive stare of Voldemort when it turned to her, “Yes, my Lord. The cabinet decided that withholding information was a slight to your house and its prosperity. We took restitution from the House Black for their betrayal in hosting Andromeda Tonks and supporting Deserter Granger--”
“Andromeda Tonks rehabilitation was under my jurisdiction, my Lord. It has nothing to do with this case, but Andromeda Tonks was kidnapped from the Malfoy Manor grounds shortly after the Hunt began. When I asked for my charge the Ministry said she had deserted and spread those tales within the Daily Prophet.”
Narcissa spoke with slow diction, ever the Lady, undisturbed by the commotion that roared through the court. Still, her magic trembled as it coiled around Hermione’s own, seeking her warmth and the strength it brought. Hermione gladly gave it to her.
“T-that was a misunderstanding,” Pius chuckled nervously, “the Ministry was following the Lord’s orders. The information revealed at the Hogwarts trail told the Ministry of a gap in reeducation we were simply trying to seal!”
“No amount of Ministry mandated apology will give my sister her wand hand back. Separation changes a wizard. You have drawn Black blood in an irreparable way and I’ve brought your mistakes before the Inquisitor.”
Someone in the court hissed as Bellatrix breathed deeply, but when she exhaled it was with a wild cackle, as ominous and terrifying as the chamber walls rumbling.
It took every bit of Hermione’s restraint not to moan at the beauty in that sound.
Still, Voldemort did not look happy, “I want to see the digits collected in my honor.”
Umbridge shook like a leaf momentarily, before she nodded proud of her work, “Of course, my Lord! I will present them to you after we bring Deserter Granger to justice!”
Susan gave Hermione a look, “I’m going to provide your memory. From your point of view.”
Hermione nodded. She was ready.
It started instantly and began when Pansy and Hermione arrived at the gate. It quickly got emotional but Hermione was not ashamed of it-- for she may never shed tears in the same way again .
The session body began to whisper when Hogwarts odd song swept through the memory, and even still Hermione could feel it plucking at something within her. Voldemort sat up in Her throne, curious as the moment passed and morphed into panic and discovery.
Then, She frowned.
Susan spoke what most of the session was muttering, “Odd isn’t it, Ginerva Weasley’s eyes? Her stiff posture? As Ms. Umbridge was held hostage it’s difficult to note it from her point of view. All you can see is Granger’s arrival, but it’s clear from these memories that Hermione did not approach the castle with anything malicious in mind. What say you, Parkinson?”
Pansy jerked, not expecting to be called on. “Me? I… well I knew Hermione wanted to see Hogwarts. We… grew up there. We fought a war there. She missed it. I mean, don’t any of you?”
Voldemort made an odd sound in the back of Her throat and closed Her eyes.
Hermione had gained a lot of memories there, a lot of experiences, some of them unpleasant. But every single one of them still meant something important. No one could pervert that for her. Take that from her.
For anyone.
“I would never hurt Hogwarts or any of its children.” Hermione said, “And I don’t think Ginerva would have willingly done so either!”
“Are you mad?” Pius barked.
“No,” Hermione said, glancing at Susan for permission. At her nod, Hermione continued, “We’ve all taken Defense Against the Dark Arts, but more of that, most of you have mastered them.”
Hermione spared the entire session body a look, determined, “Ginerva Weasley was under the imperius curse when she attacked me.”
The session exploded in yells and thrilled shouts, most of them in agreement, eager to show off their own knowledge before the presence of the Dark Lord.
Voldemort kept Her eyes closed and didn’t outwardly react.
Umbridge screeched over the roar of the crowd, “Absolute nonsense and guesswork. Do you expect this body to believe that?”
“I expect this body to not be filled with idiots, yes!” Hermione sneered. “Six months ago you held a sham session of justice, half arsed and rushed, with barely a quarter of this session at least and none of them must have been capable of even an ‘A’in defense!”
Lord Parkinson sputtered loudly and Hermione managed to catch Pansy’s cruel smirk. He looked incredibly pale and worried, and for a moment Hermione wondered who else Umbridge had tricked and manipulated within the body.
What had she done while everyone else had been busy and what would happen if even Pius didn’t know?
Worthless, the Ministry was worthless.
“Oh ho, is that so?” Umbridge crowed, “Then why was the blood-traitor there? Why did McGonagall hide her if they were not planning on the destruction of Hogwarts? Why did you happen to be on the scene?”
Hermione shook her head, but Susan answered for her, “Former Headmistress McGonagall confessed to hiding Ginerva Weasley after she deserted the Order--”
“--I do not think those were her exact words--”
“--I’ve summarized them for the court, Ms Umbridge,” Susan smiled. “But it hardly matters. This session six months ago knows why Ginerva was there.”
Lord Parkinson spoke up with, “Yes, yes we do! We don’t need to keep calling back to the previous session.”
“Then the real question,” Susan continued, “is who would have cause and reason to imperius Ms. Weasley and make her kidnap Dolores Umbridge.”
“Deserter Granger would have--”
“--come now, Umbridge. Your bias for my client is showing. It’s clear from both memories that Ginerva is under the curse and…”
Here Susan gave Hermione an odd look , “you also attacked Lady Granger with something. Something that blasted her away. Something that made her Head of House think she was dead .”
“It… must have been a teleportation spell of some sort! When she realized she couldn’t have that girl kill me she--”
“--you were the one who threw that spelled vial at me, I raised my wand to counter it.” Hermione interrupted.
For once, Umbridge was deathly quiet. “Then what are you presuming, Bones? That I did it? That I took myself hostage?”
Susan closed her eyes and took a deep breath and in the moment of quiet that invaded their book Hermione thought she saw Susan flush with pleasure. When she spoke again to the revitalized murmurs of the crowd Susan gave a listless shrug.
“I didn’t say that. I’d never assume someone did anything without the needed proof. This session is just to prove that Granger did not betray her lord and house. We’d have to call for an investigation into the means of the curse.”
From beneath a Death Eater mask at the far end came a familiar voice, was it Goyle?
“My Lord, for several years after her release, Granger was monitored for signs that reeducation did not succeed. In that time, Granger was not in contact with nor aware of any Order members existing within Great Britain. Her owls, floo calls, and physical activities were all recorded until she was approached by Death Brother Lovegood. She was cleared upon her ascension to Firstblood.”
As if it were rehearsed, Draco Malfoy stood from his seat, voice strong and clear, “Ginvera Weasley claims Granger meant to frame my death at the invasion of the household. We were on opposite teams with no contact with one another until raid completion. Nothing out of the ordinary, other than the state of the household, took place during the mission--”
“--and Andromeda, taken from the raid as conquested blood by Lady Granger, had thought Hermione dead along with the rest of the Order, as expected.” Narcissa finished.
As everyone breathed and Voldemort opened Her eyes, Snape blurted out, “This is a waste of our time. When the Hunt was called Pius failed in his duty to provide my Lord’s estate and country with proper support. There are records missing, parchment out of place, these last six months have been erratic. In the two weeks since I’ve returned to my position the Ministry has failed to maintain control of the Undersecretary who keeps. Making. Irreversible. Mistakes. ”
“How dare you…!” Umbridge barked.
“How did you miss that the Weasley girl was under imperius?” A voice called from the lordship booths.
Another followed soon after, “Who were the lords that agreed to round up the former Order members? When they were questioned what did they say?”
“Can we even count whatever that Weasley girl said while under the curse?” Came the familiar voice of a woman Death Eater.
While question after question rained down on Umbridge, Hermione carefully watched Susan as she hummed to the beat of accused incompetence. Her lips were parted, her eyes glazed and her magic--
Hermione wanted just a little taste.
Susan looked at her then and licked her bottom lip before she lowered her head, coy and suddenly shy.
“You like this, don’t you?” Hermione whispered.
“More than anything,” Susan purred.
Hermione smiled, but for a different reason while Bellatrix hung over the booth edge and cackled.
“What an incompetent sow she is!” Bellatrix cheered with fever-struck eyes.
Hermione wanted to reach down and kiss her, but they were not done yet.
“The Ministry should investigate who inflicted the curse upon the hidden Order member.” Susan said casually. “It’s clear the incident six months ago was a grievous action against the house of our Lord. She has searched for an heir for so long and someone meant to frame her.”
All eyes pointed to Umbridge.
“It… it was certainly not me! No! I wouldn’t work for the order or go against my Lord!” Umbridge tried to smile sweetly but her cheeks were twitching, “I was a victim here! I was only doing what I thought was right! Can any of you say you wouldn’t have? A-as an Umbridge, I too am related to our Lord! I only want the best for House Slytherin!”
To the left of the Dark Lord a Death Eater took off their mask, revealing the scowling face of Alecto Carrow. “Fukkin’ waste.”
Her brother, now unmasked, walked up to the Dark Lord, “May I offer my services to look into this matter?”
Voldemort nodded before She clapped, causing the session to return to silence. “Pius.”
The sweating Minister straightened, “Y-yes, my Lord?”
“There are two Ministry owned prisoners in Azkaban that I allowed Umbridge to have under our law of conquest.”
Here, Umbridge squeaked, “My Lord?”
“You will move the girl Weasley to Gaunt Manor. Come expecting to stay awhile.” Voldemort smiled sweetly, “We have much to discuss about what happened during my time away.”
Pius shook in his seat, “Y-yes, my Lord. Of course, my Lord.”
Umbridge had the nerve to scream, “The Weasley girl is mine! I caught her! I discovered her treachery!”
Nagini lunged from the throne with an otherworldly hiss, her body so incredibly long that her jaws snapped right before Umbridge face before she fell to the ground and slithered around the box. Umbridge creamed and fell back onto her seat, babbling as she tried to keep the massive snake in sight.
Hermione grinned and it was not kind , “You own nothing, Umbridge. How could you talk that way to our Lord?”
This time when Nagini hissed, Hermione did not mind that she understood it. She heard the hunger in that tone, along with the slick bit of aggression. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do it, but Hermione leaned over the box and whispered--
‘Come to me, Nagini. I know how you feel. What you want.’
When the session exploded around her in activity, she didn’t pay them any mind. She saw Susan gaping at her, heard Narcissa’s delicate laughter and knew Bellatrix was bouncing with manic pride.
It was Voldemort she locked eyes with as she gathered the snake to her arms and felt the strength of her muscle and the power within them.
Her Lord was quite amused before She stood from Her throne.
As She approached Hermione’s heart hammered greatly. Bellatrix had long since fallen to one knee and those Death Eaters behind her had done the same. Those in the lordboxes stood and bowed their heads and soon only Hermione remained standing as Susan also knelt beside her.
If Umbridge and Pius hadn’t, Hermione didn’t care. She only had eyes for the master of her power. She hoped this was enough to save Minerva and Ginny.
She knew it was enough to save herself.
“Where were you, Hermione?” Voldemort cooed a low drawl and Hermione found herself completely captured, bound by those simple words and compelled to thoughtlessly answer.
“I am not sure. Dead and not. Aware and not. I was in a place where only magic existed...” She swallowed hard and thought past Voldemort’s power. She knew what to do here, guided somehow but notions beyond her. “When I recovered from Umbridge's failed attack I was in a privileged position. Though I could not answer your summons, I knew your will.”
Voldemort leaned forward slightly, “Oh? And what would that have been, Hermione? What did you do according to my will, what kept you so busy and hidden from me?”
Hermione straightened and pushed out her chest, speaking with true fanatical devotion, “I invaded the Order hideout! I, alone, have captured Harry Potter! That is my greatest gift to you!”
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The chamber was an explosion of light and action. Lords from the boxes were screeching at each other. Umbridge had drawn her wand with a banshee yell, only to have Pius tackle her before Bellatrix had been able to reach her. Narcissa was the one that kept Bellatrix still, having rose from her bow to grip the magic of her sister so tightly Hermione could see it dancing and sparking between them.
But they didn’t matter, only Voldemort did, in that one endless moment.
Luna had brought forth the child Potter then, and Hermione had stiffened when Voldemort reached toward them. But Luna had only smiled gently, and explained that Voldemort should listen to Harry before She passed judgement.
She did, with barely contained exhilaration, knowing the Order could not use Potter against Her.
When Harry spoke the entire session had listened and the child wove a tale around sacrifice and pain.
Remus had sacrificed himself to rip Harry from the viel, his cold body had been blanketed over Harry’s new one. Harry had been in pain, carved in sections in an attempt to make them the Dark Lord’s equal. They didn’t speak much around them, so Harry had little information, but they did remember Victorie and Andromeda being their playmates.
The Dark Lord had snarled at that and Bellatrix had actually whimpered , but Narcissa had patiently reminded Voldemort that Andromeda could say nothing about it--
And still She wanted to see her, it seemed.
But after Harry’s confession the session had ended. Voldemort had bid them to discover Ginerva’s controller and with the child in Her possession, she’d disappeared.
Some part of Hermione felt broken, but Harry had looked... happy .
“Our Lord won’t hurt her,” Luna had soothed, “She knows what we haven’t said.”
Hermione sure hoped She did.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Sometimes Voldemort stayed at Malfoy Manor, hidden in the depths Hermione had yet to explore. She had an office there that buzzed whenever it was occupied, and as Hermione approached the door she hoped her Lord was in a good mood.
When she opened it, Voldemort sat amongst Her finary before a crackling fire, a glass of wine held by one hand.
“Have you come for Potter?” Voldemort asked.
“No,” Hermione answered, “I came for you.”
If she thought about Harry and where they’d gone she’d fail in her purpose. She didn’t intend to do that. Her Lord had not hurt the child, she knew that much, she’d heard Victorie speak of play dates to Rodulphus and Bill. Wherever her Lord kept Harry, they were fine, if a child raised by the Dark Lord could be fine.
“You took your time.”
Hermione nodded slowly and swallowed, “The Ministry needed you. I gave them a week. Now I… need you.”
Here Voldemort quirked a brow, “Oh?”
Hermione stood behind Voldemort’s chair, solemn and thoughtful, “You looked for me?”
“Mmm,” Voldemort hummed, “as soon as I had heard.”
Hermione let the silence stretch before them a moment before she spoke again, “My Lord is too gracious, too kind.”
Voldemort’s lips twitched slightly, “Aren’t I?”
Hermione shivered as magic washed over her, slick and so dark. With a hiss Voldemort bid to her.
Come to me , my heir.
She’d prepared for this and surrendered. Thankful for the soft carpet, Hermione indulged her impulse and crawled , sliding around the edge of the chair to kneel before Voldemort’s feet. Slowly Hermione pressed against Her legs and relished the warmth that greeted her through the wispy chill of Voldemort’s robes. She held them, shivering, and unsure why, as the otherness echoed a sense of relief. Though the session had ended without her disgrace, there was still so much left to do. So much work needed…
Voldemort curled clawed fingers against Hermione’s head and scratched lightly. Her magic felt heavy but curious, enticing. Hermione sucked in a shaky breath, she wanted to drown in it.
“Ginerva…”
“Is mine,” Voldemort said before she drew her clawed nails down the length of Hermione’s neck.
She couldn’t help but arch into the bite of that touch. She’d try again later, later when… her Lordtrix wasn’t feeling so possessive.
“A request, my Lord.” Hermione hissed, lost to the addictive pressure of being so close.
“Do you think I’m in a mood to grant it?” Voldemort asked, playful. “It’s been a very long week, Hermione.”
Hermione did moan when Voldemort scratched her just right behind an ear, “Oh… please? Please …”
“I have already heard such begging from sweet Narcissa. She wanted so badly to keep poor Andromeda from her punishment. She’s still recovering from her mutilation, you know. Poor thing. I would not have approved that.”
Hermione shuddered and buried her face against Her legs.
“But begging, no matter how sweet, isn’t enough to grant favors. My Narcissa should be pleased at the boon she’ll be delivered… but you didn’t come for that did you, Hermione? You wouldn’t beg to keep Andromeda from becoming Olivanders apprentice.”
Hemione’s head was heavy, filled to the brim with the press of Voldemort’s power. She tried to remember what she had come to beg for, but her tongue was thick and clumsy as Voldemort pulled up her head.
“ My heir ,” Voldemort hissed in snake-tongue, “ tell me what happened at Hogwarts .”
She mewed weakly as Voldemort combed her mind and felt the stained taste of familiar intrusion. She knew that Voldemort had peered at her from behind Bellatrix’s own eyes, but feeling the mental power without the proxy of another was… overwhelming .
When Voldemort was finished She tsked lightly, “Umbridge has been causing so many issues lately…”
“ Yesss.. ” Hermione hissed, unaware of her language switch, “ she framed me. She framed my allies. I want her. Give her to me!”
When Voldemort laughed dark bells rang across Hermione’s mind. She smiled cheekly, despite her own demand.
“Is that how you ask for something?” Voldemort mumbled, peculiarly, “I cannot just give you someone, my heir. Besides, she could be a Selwyn.”
Hermione snarled and shook her head, tugging petulantly at Voldemort’s robes, “No, no! She lies! She lies about everything. She tried to take me from you .”
At this Voldemort stiffed, grip tight amongst Hermione’s curls as She pulled back Hermione’s head by them. Hermoine moaned, inflamed by being handled by so much power, twisted by the otherness craving for it.
Something really was twisted within her.
Voldemort held her like that for a while, Hermione staring at the ceiling drunk off Her force, Her face impassive before She whispered against Hermione’s throat, “You’ve lost something, dear. Did the god of your false death take it from you?”
Hermione whimpered and squirmed before Voldemort let her go.
With a soft sniff She continued, “You can’t manipulate me, little one. How could someone so significant take you from me? I won’t ever let you go.” Voldemort flashed her sharp reptilian fangs, “Do not worry, Hermione. You’re to be wed soon, my Blacksword will protect you.”
No! That was not enough. It would never be enough. She wanted it, Umbridge life in her hands, a body crumbled at her feet.
“Please, please . I can do it on my own. Give me permission to eliminate this bothersome pest, this person who hinders our progress, who threatened me and has yet to pay.”
Voldemort was thoughtful, her gaze to the ceiling, her hand back to its casual stroking of Hermione’s head. But was that enough? Did Voldemort really understand this slight? The insult that Umbridge’s lack of true punishment had brought?
Hermione swallowed nervously, “May I try … Mother?”
She felt something twist through Voldemort’s magic. A burst of surprise, a sudden interest, a weird longing. Voldemort had never had a family to care for, a heir to understand, nor family obligations. Voldemort understood it, certainly. She had studied purebloods in order to command them but this, this was new, different… and Hermione intended to exploit it.
“May I have permission to gather my court? To show you my worth? I… I’m very close to cracking the other assignment you gave me, potion for youth from Bimini.”
At that Voldemort caught her gaze, sucking Hermione in with flecks of gold among the crimson of Her gaze.
“I just need…” Hermione murmured, caught inexplicably within Voldemort’s hold, “a subject, a test subject. Someone older… who could not complain. McGonagall would do.”
Voldemort’s nostrils flared, but She did not speak.
So, Hermione continued, “If it works, if I can… get it to work then that would be the last of your tasks. If I complete it, I wish for… I want--”
Hermione wasn’t sure how to express it, the agony of need that hummed in her blood. If she could not have Umbridge, if she could not hunt her with Voldemort’s permission, she would…
Her Mark throbbed from her disobedience, displayed with her line of thought. She panted against Voldemort’s legs through the pain and luxurated in the petting She gave her.
Voldemort was merciful to let her speak again, “Let me have McGonagall, Umbridge does not deserve her.” Hermione sat a bit straighter, gaining strength, “I will use her to complete your potion from Bimini.”
Voldemort made an odd sound at the back of Her throat, “How will you keep her from running? From using you? What if you got hurt?”
“Do not doubt my experiences,” Hermione croaked, “I will not be caught out again.”
Something hard in Voldemort’s gaze began to soften. Hermione wondered if She’d been truly concerned or if Her possessive madness wouldn’t allow Her to take anymore risks.
“I beg you to allow me to join the Hunt for the remaining Order members when you call for it. To oppress them, to slaughter, to do whatever you wish. I want to .” Hermione kissed across Voldemort’s knees and held tightly to the back of her legs. What could she do to make Voldemort believe in her?
“You would need some sort of practice, my heir. The Hunt can be so… intense .”
Magic slithered across her shoulders, down the length of Hermione’s arched back. She rasped, lost to the sensation before she recovered. “Then let me practice.” Hermione tightened her grip, prepared to go further, “May I hunt her? Please… let me hunt Umbridge, Mommy.”
Something quaked through Voldemort before She erupted in perverse laughter. Had Hermione been in her right mine or had held any semblance of what she’d lost, she might have been embarrassed.
Instead, she was happy . That laugh and the very please flared of Voldemort’s magic hadn’t been a no .