Clairvoyance and its Consequences

Chapter 11______________________________________________________________

The moment Hermione woke, she knew something was wrong. She could feel pressure behind her navel and her whole body seemed to be flying through a sea of flying colour. Wind rushed through her ears and it was a moment before she registered, with a slight moan of fear, just what was happening.

The Portkey.

As soon as everything started, it stopped and Hermione felt something solid and damp underneath her. Sitting up, she looked around only to see the familiar sight of the place she had visited in her dreams so many times over the past couple of weeks. She sat on a giant tree trunk that lay abandoned in the middle of a run down and eerily misty paddock. To her right she could make out the silhouette of a series of castle ruins against the night.

Everything else was black as black can be: the grass, the trees, the neighbouring hills ... and the sky. Hermione stared up at the sky, where churning clouds could be seen without difficulty. Her eyes followed the swirling mass but it seemed to never stop; it went on forever and Hermione couldn't make out a horizon at all; it was all jet black, swirling clouds.

There was a murmur of words and Hermione turned to look at the speaker, only to have her body slam painfully back into the tree trunk and thick, tight ropes to bind her to it. She struggled and let out a small scream, but whomever it was who had cast the spell took advantage and jammed a cotton gag in her mouth. She choked slightly but recovered to look up at the dark face of Nott, his teeth bared in a sickening triumphant grin.

"We have her, My Lord," Nott said gleefully. "We have the Mudblood!"

"I can see that for myself, Nott," a hissing voice said from beyond Hermione's vision.

There was a shuffle of feet and Nott disappeared, only to be replaced by a face that was paler than Nearly Headless Nick's. It had a mouth but no visible lips, slits for nostrils and eyes that were a fiery scarlet in colour. Hermione let out another scream but it was muffled against the cloth in her mouth, causing Lord Voldemort to laugh shrilly into the night air.

"Terrified, aren't you Mudblood?" he asked calmly. Hermione struggled helplessly against the ropes holding her, trying to speak - to say something but the gag filling her mouth, almost choking her, prevented her attempts. Voldemort chuckled again and turned to stand beside Nott, who stood nearby, looking over the scene with a strange gleam in his eye.

Silence fell among the atmosphere in which Hermione lay. Voldemort and Nott stood beside her, watching her every move, her every struggle. Her whole body was aching from the pressure the ropes were inflicting on her but she was incapable of complaining. She was terrified of what was to come. Any moment now, Draco might appear out of thin air and she would be let go, freed but powerless to know what they were doing to Draco; she might never see him again after that.

It seemed a full hour had passed before Voldemort and Nott said a word in which Hermione could distinguish. It was true, they had been murmuring things under their breath since she had arrived but she had never caught any sense of the words she heard. However, the words Voldemort spoke were not ones she welcomed. They were too familiar for her liking but she had been expecting them; it would've been too wonderful, too unreal if they never left his foul mouth.

"Malfoy shall come very soon, Nott," Voldemort whispered in a chilling hiss. "He loves his precious Mudblood too much to leave her here with us. It is fortunate Potter is in such a state of unawareness at the moment. It will make this process so much easier."

Hermione felt like committing murder as Nott let out a chuckle that, although rather nervous, was full of an enjoyment Hermione loathed too much to describe. She didn't know how anyone could ever be so cruel. But they could. Voldemort and all his Death Eaters were the cruelest people she had ever come to hear about ... and meet. They had hearts too cold to be real.

Suddenly a sharp 'crack' filled the air and Hermione struggled painfully against her ropes in an attempt to see what had caused it, though she was at least eighty percent sure that she already knew. She watched with dread as Draco stepped out of the blackness that lined the edge of the forest, looking around carefully with his pale, pointed face expressing a collection of angry emotions, curiosity and bravery. His wand was raised in front of him and he seemed ready to strike at the first moment he could.

Hermione moaned against her gag, willing him away with her mind but it was hopeless; she didn't have the power to make him go back.

"It is time," Voldemort said softly to Nott.

Nott stood and took out his own wand, staring at Draco. Draco had taken several more steps out of the shadows and was staring around them with the same curious expression mixed with emotions Hermione couldn't even begin to list. His wand was still held tightly in his hand and he seemed to be in a state of great alertness, though he seemed oblivious to their presence until Nott had moved.

Draco stared at Nott for a moment or two, taking him in. Hermione knew how familiar he was with the Death Eater's appearance but was at awe at the way Draco's pale eyes didn't even give the wand held in Nott's hand a second glance. Slowly, he moved his gaze beyond Nott, looking carefully at Voldemort and Hermione. His gaze lingered on Hermione and she was sure, even from the distance, that she saw an emotion beyond hatred flicker through his eyes as he took in the straps that held her to the broken trunk. His fist clenched tighter around his wand and he looked away and straight at Voldemort, straight into Voldemort's burning red eyes. A cruel, murderous look overwhelmed Draco's features and an ugly, repugnant smirk surfaced on his lips. Hermione had only ever seen this amount of power glaring through his grey eyes once before: the night he had killed his father.

Draco looked back at Nott.

"I know you wanted me here," he said in voice as casual as the situation permitted, "so I decided to come. I mean, you would've just come up with another plan to get me, wouldn't you?" Hermione moaned against her gag and thrashed against the ropes again, trying hard to tell him to go while he could, to leave her. "So let Hermione go and you can have me for whatever reason it is you want me. I will not, however, do anything that could possibly ruin what I have gained."

Hermione stopped thrashing as the words left his mouth and tried to look at him fully but the pain was becoming too terrible for her to bear and she had to turn her head back to the most comfortable position. She stayed completely still, listening.

"You heard him, Nott," Voldemort spat as Nott continued to stand there looking at Draco but doing absolutely nothing. "He is willing to be taken. He is willing to be part of our plan. Now do as we planned - NOW!"

"Stupefy!" Nott cried, pointing his wand at Draco. A streak of red light flew from the tip and caught Draco in the chest. Draco let out a small cry and fell back, his back hitting the ground with a thud. Unconsciousness had already overwhelmed him.

"Well done, Nott," Voldemort uttered as he took out his own wand. He flicked it once and the ropes binding Hermione loosened and disappeared. She slowly stood, shaking with a mixture of pain and anger. Her eyes were open in a fierce stare and she looked at Voldemort without a single sign of fear whatsoever. This even surprised her.

"Why Draco?" she asked, not knowing where she had gotten such courage to ask the Dark Lord any form of question; he was never likely to listen or even let her speak. He loathed the person she was; she was at a rank too low. But at this moment, Hermione didn't care what Voldemort did to stop her speaking; her instinct was taking over and her instinct always chose to ask questions first. "Why do you want Draco? Why not me? I could get Harry just as easy as Draco - if not more! I'm Harry's best friend and he loves me! Why use Draco?"

Voldemort stared at her with a glare a lot fiercer than her own. He seemed to be thinking exactly what Hermione had thought he would; how dare Hermione ask him a question that she deserved not to have answered properly.

"Because you are a worthless little Mudblood that I care nothing for!" Voldemort hissed, with a gleam in his glare. "I would never use a disgusting piece of filth like you to get something I presently hold so precious! I would much rather use the son of one of my loyal Death Eaters to acquire what I want."

"You can curse Draco all you want but he will never be like you!" Hermione yelled radically, her eyes filling with tears. The way he was staring at her, as though she was beyond something unpleasant on the bottom of her shoe - it just made everything so very real to her and she realised just how much danger she and her friends were currently in.

She didn't understand what she was saying or even why she was saying it; all she wanted to do was yell and try whatever she could to prevent all danger her friends were unknowingly placed in.

"He will never become a coldhearted criminal like you!" Hermione continued in a shrill voice, trying to ignore the glare Voldemort was currently looking at her with and the wand that he held in his hand, so ready to kill. "I know he would never! He's changed - he's not like his father! He killed his father for heaven's sake! A bit of hatred for Harry isn't going to make him hand Harry to you. He doesn't want Harry dead and neither do I, so please, have a bit of mercy! If you have to kill someone, kill me - not Harry!"

"I'm not about to kill you, you silly girl!" Voldemort said back in a fierce tone, his voice somewhat high-pitched to Hermione's ears; he seemed to be outraged by Hermione's speaking to him. "You are nothing to me but a key part of my plan!"

"But why Draco?" Hermione screamed, with tears pouring helplessly down her cheeks. "Why Draco when I can get you just as far as he can?"

It was then that Voldemort lost his temper and raised his wand higher to point right at Hermione's heart. "Crucio!" he said, sending Hermione into the most excruciating pain she had ever been capable of feeling. She fought to keep balance as she screamed in severe pain but kept her footing as well as she possibly could as the curse ripped through her like a hot, agonising poison.

A couple of minutes of the pain passed before Voldemort lifted his wand and watching cruelly, a smirk of pure glee on his lips as Hermione shook violently where she stood, out of breath.

"Now you will leave," he demanded as Hermione looked up at him with an expression filled with as much courage as her face would allow her to show as her tears streamed waterfalls down it. "You shall leave and keep all your thoughts about my plan to yourself."

Voldemort flicked his wand again and Hermione suddenly felt dizzy as a bewildered look varnished the brown depths of her eyes and for a moment she felt unsteady on her feet. A second later, she felt like a hook had jerked behind her navel and she was surrounded once more by a swirl of colour. Then, as though from a great distance, she heard Voldemort's voice say, "Sweet dreams", followed by a horrible chuckle.

As soon as the laughing stopped, she felt her feet hit solid ground and she stumbled slightly, only to make contact with the mattress of Draco's bed. She looked around, confused and tried to remember what had happened, but nothing but flashes of small images came to mind.

A paddock, red eyes, the pain of being tied to something very solid, Draco lying sprawled on the ground unconscious ... and a chuckle, a chuckle so cold it caused goosebumps to rise on her arms.

Voldemort had Draco.

Hermione ran a hand over her face and looked around the room. That was all she could remember. She couldn't remember how she had gotten to the paddock, or where that paddock was, but she knew that Draco was there, with Voldemort and Nott and that they had somehow sent her back here.

Hermione sat down on the bed and laid down, staring at the dark ceiling and ignoring the fact the sun was beginning to rise outside the window. Nearly everything about the passed couple of hours was a complete blur to her but she knew that somewhere within her mind, everything was there: every word that was spoken, every move that was made. It seemed that she was somehow not in the state to remember anything at the present moment.

Turning onto her side, her thoughts were brought to a halt as she noticed a piece of creamy parchment on the bedside table. Looking closely, she clearly read her name sprawled across the top and picked it up.

Hermione,

If you're reading this you are obviously back. I woke the moment I felt the pull of the Portkey taking you and I left immediately after you disappeared. I know you didn't want me to go to find you but I had to. I would rather die than to have you be killed by a man that I loathe more than I loathed my father. I would rather die than to have you be killed at all. I want you to know that I will return and I want you to know that nothing the Dark Lord does to me will change me. I will never be a Death Eater and I will never get the Dark Mark. I want you to know that.

I love you,

Draco.

Hermione gazed at the letter and felt a tear run down her cheek. Even with her lack of memory of what had happened in that paddock, Hermione knew Draco was in trouble and that she and her friends were in great danger. That thought didn't leave her mind as she lay her head back on her pillows and slowly fell into a weak slumber that was filled with images she wished she didn't have the power to see.

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