Socius Criminis

Chapter 5: The Stroke Of The Pendulum

“In other conditions of mind, I might have had courage to end my misery at once, by a plunge into one of these abysses; but now I was the veriest of cowards.”

-The Pit And The Pendulum

Edgar Allan Poe

Hermione was, as she had told Severus, not a people person. For James and Lily’s sakes, however, she tried to forget that on their wedding day. It occurred some two years after their graduation - during which time Hermione had been researching Peragro Tempus in between teaching classes. It was a quaint little ceremony - nothing large and flashy, as no one would dare be as such in this day and age with Voldemort looming in every dark corner. Hermione was not familiar with wizarding weddings, however, and the ceremony widened her eyes considerably to wizarding relationships. The contract was not merely a contract; it was more like a binding of spirits. No wonder there’s such a low rate of divorce in the wizarding world, Hermione thought in wonder. It also gave an explanation for why Death Eaters tended to use marriage as a weapon - once their chosen mistress was bound to them, she was theirs. Polygamy was not a common issue in Wizarding culture; it was not possible as no one has two souls to give.

At the reception after the wedding, Hermione kept away from the swooning women and tipsy fathers. It was not…her scene. She sat on a chair away from the dance floor, and turned a wine glass in her hand. Not that she drank wine - all the drinks had been served in wine glasses for effect. Swirling around the glass was, in fact, pineapple juice, which Hermione had always had an affinity for. Prickly yet satisfying. Somewhat like someone she knew…but she wasn’t going to think about him. So yes, none of that pumpkin stuff - it seemed in this time the wizarding world had not found how to make pumpkin juice drinkable. But, of course, by pondering this she was digressing from the inevitable.

“Miss Granger?” a voice interrupted her thoughts. Hermione looked up. It was Albus. She smiled, and stood.

“Where are we doing this?” she asked. Albus offered his arm, and she took it. He led her out of the reception room and into a side room, where Lily and James were waiting.

“It’s okay,” he said, at her skeptical look. “No one but the four of us may enter.” Hermione nodded, and looked at James and Lily.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked softly. They nodded, and Lily touched a hand to her stomach. James noticed.

“Is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?” he asked, every bit the nervous groom. Lily nodded.

“It’s just…oh…I don’t know if it will affect it…no, it won’t, I mean…” she looked up at Hermione. “We’re not casting the charm on ourselves, are we?” Hermione shook her head.

“Why?”

“Well,” Lily began, and twisted her hands together. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered. Hermione sighed.

“It’s about time too,” she whispered under her breath.

“What?” Lily said. Hermione waved the question away.

“Nothing, nothing,” she covered. They turned to James, who was staring at Lily.

“…oh,” he said, and fell into the chair he was standing next to. Hermione sighed.

“It won’t affect it,” she whispered, and held out her hands for James and Lily to take. They looked at Albus, who nodded. As they took her hands, Hermione let out a small chuckle. “Of course, what Voldemort will neglect in the future is that Fidelius has to be cast by Unicus. A failing that, of course, will cost him…” she closed her eyes as Albus pressed his hands to her forehead.

“Fidelius totalus” was all she heard before she fell into a heavy slumber.

--

“Hermione?” a voice whispered. Brown eyes flickered open. A small smile crept across the woman’s lips.

“It worked then?” she asked, brushing her hair out of her face with her hand and sitting up. Albus nodded. “How did the reception go after I left?”

“Fine, naturally.”

“Sirius didn’t cause havoc?”

“No.”

“You’re awfully subdued, Albus,” Hermione whispered, and tucked her legs under her. “What’s wrong?” Blue eyes looked emptily up at her.

“You know what is going to happen.” A pause before a nod in reply. “I sense something has been bothering you about that.” Hermione blushed at her obvious emotions and looked at her hands.

“I just feel helpless,” she whispered, and looked up at him slowly. “I know what will happen to everyone else, but I can’t help myself - it’s selfish, I know, but I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I suppose no one does really, but I feel that because I know I need to get through to the future I have some special dispensation.” She looked up at him guiltily. “I think that’s me being selfish though.”

“In time you will see that all is as it was meant to be,” Albus replied, and left the room. Hermione felt a cold breeze wash over her as he closed the door, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a sign. True, she had never believed in divination, but after her trip back in time she had to say she believed in fate. Indeed, being Unicus, she had to believe in fate. Fate told her something was amiss. Hermione did not wish to tempt fate. She got up and dressed, taking her wand, and left the infirmary for her rooms. She wanted to make sure that something was secured. It wouldn’t be long before she went back to her time…there had been some advances in the research of Peragro Tempus recently, after all.

Hermione turned down into the corridor where her rooms were, and froze. The portrait was ripped and the door was hanging open. Clutching her wand out of habit, Hermione approached the entrance. A thought occurred to her as she did - how had Dumbledore’s wards not detected this? The answer she knew, but did not wish to. Only Dark Magic could have cloaked such an ambush. Sometimes, Hermione sighed, for a moment forgetting her predicament, the answer came all too easily.

Hermione stepped over the wreckage into her room. Then she thought she saw a shadow move, but she couldn't be sure, because everything went to darkness and all she could sense was a pair of arms around her waist and a wand at her heart. Didn't I say I'd come back, Hermione?

--

Hermione's first thoughts on waking up were that she hadn't woken up at all and was in some sort of dream. The rope around her hands told her otherwise. Pressing her fingers to the rope, she burnt through it slowly, careful not to set fire to anything around her. Once her hands were free, she conjured up a small ball of blue fire between them. And that was when she saw where she was. And who was with her.

“Severus, why have you bought me here?” she whispered, dimming the light somewhat so that he would not see the tears drying on her cheeks.

“Because He asked me to,” came the reply. Hermione frowned.

“When you swore yourself as Unicus you swore to follow no master. Did you forget this or are you just being ignorant of yourself?” Hermione questioned, gaining a little more confidence when she saw they were alone. Severus glared at her and strode across the room to her. Tucking a slender finger under her chin, he snapped her head up.

“What I am now and what I was then are two completely different things.” They held the other's gaze for a moment until he sat down next to her. “You are here to join me,” Severus whispered in her ear, “and help us triumph over the righteous ones. I know you have some information that can help Him.” Hermione turned and looked into Severus' eyes.

“You would never make me.”

“If you believe that then you do not know me as well as I hoped.” Hermione looked at the floor and Severus ran a hand across her cheek. Hermione's eyes flicked up to his.

“That does not mean I cannot learn,” she whispered, and he smiled in reply.

“I knew you would see sense, dearest Nyx,” he replied in an equally soft tone, and pressed his lips to hers.

In a place far away, Mentor sighed. It was too much to hope that the will of what was good in Night could triumph over the promise of Darkness and power, that which all Gods hold dear to them. There was no stopping it; Nyx was lost to her love of Erebos and there would be no turning back from the Darkness for Night.

“You know,” Severus said, pulling Hermione closer to him in the embrace of darkness, “there was an experiment done some years ago by a Muggle university. It showed that around 85% of normal people would inflict pain on another if they were instructed to, without considering that they could seriously injure or even murder the other person.” Severus sighed, and ran his hand across Hermione's cheek. “So you see, dearest Hermione, we are all pawns that serve our King. There is no battle between good and evil, white and black. There is nothing to decide other than who you shall serve. It is up to you to decide whether you are going to fight against, or with Mentor. Or, to put it another way...with or without me.” Hermione sniveled, crying silently in the swirles of his voice.

“How can you expect a mere pawn to be able to choose between this?” Severus chuckled.

“I don't expect you to choose,” he said, his voice hardening. “It has already been chosen for you.”

Severus tightened his hand around Hermione's left arm and laughed at her, silencing her ever rising sobs with a fierce and overpowering kiss that enveloped her and deprived her of all conscious thought. Now there was no Night. It was only Darkness from the Gates that covered the world: now was the time to be fearful. Now Darkness would lead his master into the wide world freely and show him that which would soon be theirs.

--

Hermione later found out that they were hidden in the dungeons of Malfoy Mansion, a place that, in her opinion, was where she would least like to spend her time. The room, once lighted, reminded her of a torture chamber that she had once investigated during her audition to join the Department of Mysteries. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that she had decided to become an Unspeakable, but she knew it was the right choice and always had been. After Voldemort's rise to power in her Seventh Year, the Unspeakables had doubled their jobs, acting undercover as a member of another department so that when they were not working with Aurors they were useful in another way. Hermione was an Unspeakable in the Research Department of the Ministry of Magic. Hidden in the bowels of Ministry Headquarters, under the watchful eye of the youngest Minister of Magic ever, Neville Longbottom, she worked away, deciphering the most harmful of the Dark Curses and creating antidotes to lethal poisons.

At Hogwarts, Sixth and Seventh years specialised in four or five subjects. Hermione, to everyone's surprise, opted to take the normal four, choosing to excel in those rather than spread herself thin across the board. She had specialised in Advanced Potions, Compound Arithmancy, Advanced Transfiguration and Chemical Herbology. The intake for Potions, her main subject, was astounding. Although one might not have considered it quite so astounding...if you took into account the teacher. Only five people, four of them Slytherins, applied. Hogwarts was, however, obliged to offer it due to its' being a required subject for the lower years. This had meant that the Advanced Potions' class received the best education one could hope for. Hermione believed that now she understood why Severus had been so hard on her then. He knew what was going to happen to her. He knew what he was going to do to her. It wasn't that he despised her. It was because he was angry with himself for hurting her.

Or so she hoped. She couldn't bear to believe it was because of her. Because she was going to leave him and not come back for twenty or more years.

--

Severus took Hermione before Voldemort that night. She had encountered him before, of course, but that was after his first fall. This time he was human. Hermione found it hard to believe that anything so utterly human could cause so much pain and destruction. She was reminded of Severus' words. ...85% of normal people would inflict pain upon another if instructed to. She looked around her at the stony cold faces and knew it was true. Like gravestones; no feeling, only identity. There was a chill within the room that pierced Hermione's bones, and she shuddered involuntarily.

“My dearest Miss Granger,” Riddle smiled, making Hermione swallow with disgust at his use of Severus' endearment for her. “How nice of you to join us. That is, I am presuming you are here to join us?” Hermione sneered.

“It has been made clear to me that I have little choice in the matter. Your Highness,” she added after a pause, a slight hint of sarcasm slipping into her voice. Riddle stumbled. “You would do well to watch your step, Lord. I do not fear you. I know that you will not kill me, for I hold information most dear to you. Perhaps I will give it to you, if you will give me some information.” There were mutters among the followers. Someone was mocking the Master.

“You dare to challenge me, Miss Granger?” Riddle stepped closer to her and ran his eyes over her body. He smiled in approval. “Why Severus, I do believe you have bought me the most perfect queen.” Hermione resisted the urge to plunge the satisfying blade of a dagger right through Tom Riddle's heart. Severus paled, moreso than usual, and wondered if this was the right thing to do.

“Tell me, Lord,” Hermione whispered. “In what way do you consider my humble attributes perfect?” Riddle smiled, his eyes misting slightly.

“You remind me, somewhat, of a young Rowena Ravenclaw. I am far too young to have known her, of course, but I know the resemblence is there. You are aware, of course, that dear Lady Ravenclaw fell in love with Salazar Slytherin? Of course you are. You are in every way as beautiful as her, and perfect, therefore, for the Heir of Slytherin.” Hermione grimaced.

“I have been told that I am far from beautiful,” she sneered, and clasped her hands into fists for a moment.

“I believe you have an innocence about you, my dear. A sort of untouched beauty. I should be delighted to be the one who sees that you are rid of it.” Hermione let out a sudden belt of laughter.

“You are too late, my Lord! Your pawn has already seen to that. I am more deadly than you should ever dare imagine. I am the unknown pawn, the one that flitters about between one master and the next. No, I am no slut. I am beyond that, far beyond that. In fact I am a beauty that you could not even dream of. The intoxication of my beauty would render you insane. I am a beauty turned devil. Light turned dark. Gryffindor turned Slytherin. You would not be able to handle such a firey passion as my embrace.” Voldemort sneered.

“Lucius,” he hissed. A cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows. “Pin her to the floor.” Hermione did not resist. She knew this was destiny. Malfoy shackeled her to the floor using the four hoops around her.

“I will tell you what you wish to know if you tell me something in return.”

“How do I know you will tell me?” Hermione swallowed, to regain her composure, and blinked away threatening tears.

“Make me one of you. You know that one of your own would never defect.” Severus choked on his own breath and nearly fell out of line. Voldemort noticed.

“Very well,” the snake man sneered, and took out his wand.

The pain that the Dark Mark gave was greater than any other Hermione had ever experienced before. Worse than Unicus initiations. Worse than Crucio, Crudus Penitus and any other Dark Curse she could ever remember researching. The pain was similar to one she had had as a child, when she had gone into hospital to have her tonsils removed. She remembered the anaesthetic injection. It had felt like something unknown, something alien seeping through her bloodstream. It made her feel heavy. She could feel the darkness overcoming her. She did not scream, only clasped her hands into fists again and screwed her eyes shut. Her breathing became laboured and when she next opened her eyes she saw the inky redness of her own blood seeping down her arm, slinking around the snake that stared back at her. She closed her eyes again and knew that this time she had truly failed them all.

When the pain reached the base of her spine and weaved its' way up nerves to her neck she lost consciousness for a moment. Then she opened her eyes again, knowing it was over, and broke the shackles that bound her to the floor. She sat up, aware that Voldemort was back in his chair and all of the followers except two had left. Once she had composed herself she stood, albeit somewhat shakily, to her feet. She raised her head and looked Voldemort directly in the eyes. She inhaled, and spoke.

“Tell me what the reverse charm for Peragro Tempus is and I'll tell you where Lily and James Potter are hidden.” Voldemort raised a skeptical eyebrow at the woman, who was now wavering from side to side dangerously. “I need to know. Tell me, and I will tell you where they are.” Voldemort smiled.

“I do not know,” he said. Hermione grimaced, and stumbled slightly. Severus flinched.

“Then you will not know the Potters' location,” she replied, her voice stumbling in tandem with her body. One of the remaining followers stepped forward.

“Master,” it whispered. Hermione recognized it as Lucius Malfoy. “You know that my library is very vast. Peragro Tempus is a Dark Curse, and my collection of Dark Magic references is second to none. I offer this to your services, if it can help to convince the girl.” The corners of the Dark Lord's mouth twitched.

“You will be commended for your services, Lucius. Well, Granger? What do you say to this offer? Will you accept it?” Hermione nodded.

“When I have found the information I require, I shall give you the information. Not before.” Voldemort smiled at her, and she resisted the urge to vomit on his pristine black robes. He ran a cold finger across her cheek and she tensed, the blood spurting from her arm at a now slower rate quickened slightly; the pressure increasing.

“Stubborn, aren't you? A pity you do not see our ways. Such a pity. Malfoy, show Hermione,” Riddle lingered over her name with a sickening desire, “to your library. See that she gets what she wants, and return her to me.” Malfoy nodded, and Hermione was led away.