Eden

The sun is hot in the cloudless sky.

The grounds of Hogwarts are filled with students relaxing in the sunshine. Their carefree, relaxed attitude reminds me of the week after exams have finished - the air is heavy with their excitement at the prospect of the impending holidays.

I recognise the feeling, and I soak it up. I lose myself in the warm, hazy happiness.

I float through the grounds. No, that's not right. I'm not floating, I'm... it's hard to explain. I'm not walking, but then I'm not floating either.

I'm just... moving. Moving through the grounds.

I don't think I'm actually here at all. No-one seems to be able to see me.

For some reason, I'm drawn to the lake. I don't know why. I just move towards the cool, still expanse of water, knowing somewhere deep inside of me that I need to be there; that the entire reason I'm here is by the lake.

There are quite a few students relaxing by the water. It almost looks like an Impressionist painting. They're blurry and slightly indistinct, but at the same time they're bright and colourful and full of life. The entire scene is just full of colours and light and sunshine. It's beautiful. Perfect.

Three students in particular are clearer than the rest. I can't explain why. It's as if their outline is more defined, and they're somewhat brighter than the rest of the pupils.

It's these people that I am here to see. I know it.

The three of them are sitting together by the lake. I move closer to them, close enough to touch them, but I'm certain that none of them can see me.

There's a girl among the three. When I first see her I think that I'm looking at Ginny, but then I look closer and I realise that it's not her, although they look incredibly similar to one another. The girl I see in front of me has got the same fiery red hair as Ginny, and she leans backwards onto her elbows with the same kind of easy confidence. She has the same pretty, cheeky face, with freckles smattered over her nose and cheeks. But her nose is slightly longer than Ginny's, her eyes are slightly bigger, and her hair wavier. Besides, this girl only looks about fourteen.

She takes off her shoes and dips her tiny bare feet into the lake, sucking in her breath slightly at the cold sting of the water. I remember how that water remained icy cold, no matter what time of year it was.

The boy sitting next to her doesn't look up from the book he's reading when he speaks to her.

'Careful. The squid'll get hold of you.'

She throws him a mischievous smile over her shoulder. 'Don't be such an old woman.'

The boy smiles, still not looking up from his book. I look at what he's reading. It's 'The Guide to Advanced Trasfiguration'.

I was making my way through that book, before...

Before...

I can't remember.

I look back at the boy's face. He looks like he might the girl's brother. They've got the same red hair, and both of them are very freckly. But he's got a more serious manner about him than his sister. His brow is furrowed as he concentrates on the book in his hand. He looks as if he might be about sixteen years old.

His sister rolls her eyes playfully at him.

'Only you would study the day before school ends.'

He still doesn't look up from his book.

'Just because you don't care about O.W.L's and N.E.W.T's, doesn't mean that none of us do.'

She tosses her hair back in a slightly petulant gesture. It catches the sun and burns bright as it swings over her shoulder.

'I can think of better ways to occupy my time,' she says, grinning at some passing sixth-year boys. She earns an appreciative whistle from one of them.

'Oi, leave off our sister!'

That good natured shout doesn't come from the red-haired boy. It comes from the person sitting just next to him.

I try to make this person out, but I can't see them properly. I can't explain it - it's as if they're just on the edge of my line of vision, and I can't quite move my eyes far over enough to see them. It's a boy, I can tell that by the sound of his voice. I can just make out his body, lying back on the grass. I think he's older, possibly about my age. His apparent height gives that away. I try as hard as I can, but I can't make his face out.

I wish that I could.

And then the grounds, the students, and the three teenagers fade from me, and I find myself floating in empty darkness.

But one thought pierces me through the dark, as clearly as if someone is actually standing next to me, whispering it in my ear;

'Your children.'

I feel something cold underneath me, pressing onto the entire length of my back.

My children. As they will be, or as they might have been?

The cold I feel on my back is refreshing. I'm so warm that I can feel beads of sweat on my skin.

I want to see that third child, the boy...

I open my eyes, slowly peeling them open with difficulty, and for a few moments the world around me is a blur, and nothing comes into focus.

My children.

My vision starts to sharpen. The darkness, the green light, the black stone high above me.

This isn't Hogwarts. I was never really there.

Real-life comes crashing back to me, punching me like an iron fist in the heart as I remember where I really am.

I close my eyes, wanting darkness to envelope me and sleep to take me again. I want to escape into that world, to feel the heady anticipation of summer again.

But it wouldn't be real. This is where you are, and this is where you'll stay.

I wrench my eyes open again. Why should I allow myself to escape into a world of fantasy? That's never been my way of doing things. The here and now - that's where I belong.

I slowly roll myself up from my back into a sitting position. All of my muscles twinge and ache. I'm shaking uncontrollably, and sweating so badly that my skin is slippery.

Not only that, but my head is roaring with pain. It's thumping with it. It rings in my ears and makes my eyes throb.

I'm ill. I must be ill.

Fantastic.

I ball up my fists and I kneed my eyes, feeling the curving bones of the sockets under my fingers.

What did that dream mean?

I don't believe in divination. I don't believe that humans can see into the future. I'm not about to entertain the notion that I might have just seen my children in my sleep.

That dream was nothing but a false hope.

Hope is a cruel thing. It makes you believe that things could get better, if only you tried hard enough. I used to believe that.

I'm not sure whether I do now. I don't know what to believe anymore.

I run my hands over my head, gripping at the roots of my hair with my fingers.

'You must have a very clear conscience. You sleep like a baby.'

I start at that voice, and I turn to see Lucius standing on the other side of my cell. He's smirking at me, and carrying a bundle of blood red cloth in his hands.

'I was starting to think you might never wake up.'

I look at him blankly, not really hearing him. My mind is too full of the images of yesterday flooding back to me. The blood, my hair falling out before growing back again, the never ending, burning, all-encompassing pain. Going so far to the brink that I forgot everything except the agony.

How could they do that? How could they do that to another human being?

He continues to smirk at me.

'You're not very talkative today, Mudblood,' he drawls. 'What a change this makes after the last few days. You have only ever seemed most eager to talk, thus far.'

Talk. Yes, I've done nothing but talk. Stupid, weak thing that I am, I've given them everything they've asked for.

I feel unclean. I need to wash, to scrape the guilt off of me. I feel it covering me, running over me like slime.

How could I do it?

They're all going to die. Ron, Harry, all of the Weasleys...

Not unless they can't find them. You didn't give away the Burrow's location.

Hope. That cruel flame lights up in my chest.

Lucius points his wand at the ground in front of me, and a small loaf of bread and a goblet of water pop up out of thin air on the floor.

'Please, eat.' He gestures at the plate.

I reach for the food, my common sense and my hunger over-riding my pride. It doesn't take me long to finish it. I eat up every last crumb, and I down the water in a matter of seconds, and still I'm so hungry I feel as if I could cry.

I finish my tiny excuse for a meal, and I lift my eyes up and I stare at Lucius, saying nothing.

His smirk grows wider as the silence stretches out between us, his pale face positively alight with malicious glee.

'Aren't you going to talk to me, Mudblood? How very disappointing. I have so enjoyed our little chats-'

'Do you want something?' I ask wearily, determined not to give in to his little game.

His smile flickers slightly when I refuse to play along with him.

I take relish in that flicker. That's one small amount of control I have over him - I can make him angry.

'The Dark Lord has asked me to take you up to the Great Hall.'

All of my breath seems to leave my body all at once.

I don't want to see Voldemort again! I was hoping I would never have to.

'Why?' I ask, wanting to keep him talking, to put off the moment when I have to see that horrible face again. 'Why does he want to see me? He said he didn't have the time to bother with me-'

'Oh, please, don't flatter yourself, Mudblood,' Lucius smirks. 'This meeting isn't going to be centred around you. Why would he waste his time with such an arrangement? No, he just wants you to be there to witness his return, which should be very soon, if all goes to plan.'

'His return?' I ask, my stomach hollow.

'Hmm.' He makes a show of inspecting his nails and polishing them on his robes, creating quite a picture of nonchalance. 'His return from the Weasleys' home.'

What?

My stomach churns. My insides shrivel up and turn themselves inside out as horror crashes down on me. I try to speak. I open my mouth and try to push words out, but none will come.

Lucius smiles slightly, disturbing the charade of indifference he is putting up.

'When he discovered that Potter was residing with the Weasleys he decided to pay them a visit.'

His voice is heavy with sadistic pleasure. It pulls words out of me. Stupid, meaningless words, words that don't matter. Words to stop myself from falling into the darkness of guilt.

'How...' My throat is dry, so dry I can barely use it to speak. 'How does he know where they live?'

'My dear girl, I thought you were supposed to be intelligent.' Lucius breathes a small laugh, raising his eyebrows and running his eyes over me scornfully. 'Do you really think that we haven't troubled to find the location of Harry Potter's best friends during the last two years? Granted, you were easier to track down than Weasley was, what with that ridiculous Muggle 'Phone book' of yours.'

I don't understand...

'If you have always known where the Weasleys live, then why have you left them alone all this time?'

He rolls his eyes in pure exasperation.

'Why don't you try and guess, Miss Granger?' Every syllable he utters practically drips with derision. 'Why don't you try using that incredible brain of yours, for a change?'

Is he implying that I'm stupid?

I swallow down my indignation, and I try to think through the situation logically.

It doesn't take me long to come to the only obvious conclusion I can think of.

'You wanted to keep them alive in case you might need to use them to get to Harry.'

Lucius' smile widens.

'Very good, Muggle.' His gloating smirk is stretched so wide I'm surprised it doesn't split his face in half. 'I have to say, it's rare, so rare, to find someone of your... background with a bit of basic intelligence.'

'You can't just assume that because someone is muggle-born it automatically makes them stupid-'

'Oh, but it's an assumption that has such a substantial amount of evidence to back it up.' He grins at me. 'Even you, one of the more intelligent of your kind that I have come across, seem to be so very simple that you continue in your insolence even though you know how it enrages me.'

Although I want to reply to him, I clamp my mouth shut, not wanting to provoke him any further.

Cowardice it might be, but I'm weary of pain.

He sneers at me, as if he is almost contemptuous of my servility now that he has it, before he continues with his one-sided conversation.

'Yes, that is the reason why we have kept that pathetic family alive. It was a gamble, I admit, but one that has definitely paid off, don't you think?'

I don't answer. I just breathe deeply, trying to control my heart which is banging so hard in my chest it feels as if it is about to burst through my ribs.

'But the Dark Lord is not without mercy, Miss Granger. He thought it might be, ah... pleasant for you to see your little friend one final time before his execution. You will be briefly re-united with Potter when he returns with the Dark Lord, before he is finally disposed of, once and for all.' He coughs delicately. 'You are allowed to show your gratitude.'

I feel tears rip up from the pit of my stomach to burn under my eyelids. My nose stings and my face grows hot, and I can't breathe as the entire world presses down on me, suffocating me, robbing me of air.

It's all my fault!

I've killed Harry, I've killed him!

My heart tears in two as the hot tears burst out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks.

And Ron, and Ginny, and the others. What's going to happen to them?

What do you think is going to happen to them?

I can't stand it. I can't stand the millions of thoughts running through my mind. I think I'm going to drown in them.

I need to make sense of it all...

'Why?' Every word is an effort. 'Why would he let me say goodbye to Harry?'

Lucius shrugs elegantly. 'I suggested it to him, and he was quite taken with the idea.'

My face creases into a frown as I stare at him, trying to understand...

'Why the hell would you think that I would want to see my best friend being murdered?'

'Oh, you misjudge me. I didn't for a moment think that you would want to see that happen.' He smiles that small, twisted smile again, his satisfaction filling the air like the warm scent of a stroked cat. 'That is precisely why I suggested it in the first place.'

Rage burns up from my gut like bile and I think I'm going to be sick again.

'What's the matter with you?' The words explode out of me before I can stop them. I stand up, to face him on his own level. 'How can you... how can you do this to someone? You're sick, feeding on human suffering.'

When I stand up my vision goes blurry, the room spins around me and I stagger slightly. I manage to keep myself standing, but only just as everything swings to and fro, and I feel myself swaying as my head swims-

A grip on my arm steadies me, pulling me back to my centre. I lean on that grip as my head clears and I pull myself together.

I look down to see Lucius' hand on my arm, gripping me tightly where the bruises of his previous grip on me still reside.

'You shouldn't over-excite yourself, Mudblood.' I look up at his words to see that he's sneering at me.

'You shouldn't provoke me,' I reply, practically spitting the words at him.

His lip curls up in contempt, and he drops his eyes, allowing them to travel up and down my body in disgust.

It's then that I remember that I'm naked.

I slide out of his grip and down to the floor, huddling in on myself and hugging my knees to my chest as I grow hot with embarrassment.

He looks down at me, a muscle going in his jaw, and for a few moments I wonder whether he's going to start shouting at me.

But then he starts to laugh.

I stare at him long and hard as he throws his head back and laughs a long, deep, gurgling laugh.

'I don't know why you're bothering to hide yourself away. Do you really think I'm interested in your body?'

He laughs all the harder. The thought is genuinely amusing to him.

And although I try to stop it, I feel a hot blush of humiliation flood across my face. I feel exactly the same as I did yesterday, when he said that he didn't want to undress me because he'd just eaten.

Am I that repulsive? Or does he think like that because I'm a Mudblood?

It's just another indignity he can thrust upon me. I know this. He wants to take away my self esteem, to make me believe that I'm worthless. I still remember what he said to me when he first captured me - You are nothing.

It's just another mind game.

But still... why does he feel the need to treat me like this?

He eventually manages to stop laughing, and he wipes a tear away from his eye as he collects himself.

'I'm sorry to disappoint you, Miss Granger,' he says, a small, disgusted sneer flashing across his face. 'But I'm afraid you're out of luck. I don't touch Mudbloods.'

I'm out of luck?

My body buzzes with anger.

'You arrogant-'

'Please!' He holds up his hand to stop my words. 'Let us not be vulgar.'

He throws the red bundle of cloth he's holding at my feet.

'I'd be most grateful if you'd put those on.'

I pick up the bundle, and shake it out in order to see what it is.

It's a robe made of heavy, blood-red material. It's creased up from the way he's been holding it, and the fabric is quite rough and scratchy.

'Where are my own clothes?'

I don't know why I'm asking. Those clothes I was wearing were filthy. These robes are clean, at least.

But... those clothes were mine. Plus, there's something horrible about these robes. I don't know whether it's the colour, or the material, or... I don't know.

Lucius' face curves into a slight frown when I don't do as he says right away, and he flicks his wand at me. A small shiver of pain runs through me - a small punishment for my resistance to his will. I'm careful to keep my lips clamped together; not to allow the tiniest noise to escape from them.

'Muggle clothing is not welcome here.' His lip curls up ever so slightly. 'You will wear something a little more suitable from now on.'

'Oh, of course,' I mutter. 'Because my own clothes are a little too informal for a dungeon.'

A muscle goes slightly in his jaw, betraying a genuine flash of emotion. It's either a flicker of a smile or a spark of anger.

I wish I could read him. I wish I could even have the smallest hint of what he's thinking.

'Don't be insolent, Miss Granger,' he says quietly. 'You know how I dislike it.'

Anger, then. That must have been what it was.

We look at each other for a few moments in silence. His eyes delve into mine, and I try to keep my mind clear. If he can do Occumelency then I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of reading my thoughts. Not without a struggle.

I don't know what he's looking for, anyway. But that intense, searching look in his eyes makes me think that he's probing my mind for something.

I wish I knew what.

'Aren't you going to get dressed?' he asks eventually, shattering the silence pressing down on us. 'I assume you don't wish to expose your body for any longer than you have to.'

I swallow down the scream of rage that threatens to burst out of me, and I school my voice into one as calm and collected as his own.

'I'll be more than happy to get dressed if you'll just give me some privacy.'

So I'm expecting compassion from him now? I really must be stupid.

He sneers at my request, as I expect him to.

'I don't think so.'

I really should have known better.

'Why not?' I ask in exasperation.

He tilts his chin up haughtily, and smiles slightly.

'It's merely a matter of principle - I won't do anything that you want me to do.'

I almost scream in sheer frustration. I'm so sick of these twisted power games I have to play with him! It always goes the same way - my refusal, the pain, the enforced compliance, a brief respite...

And then yet more pain.

I'm too tired to go through that all over again. Not when I don't have to.

I pull the robes over my head, down onto my body. They're very heavy, and they stick to my sweating skin, clinging to me, scratching me.

But at least I'm dressed again. It feels fantastic, and although I'm too hot, especially with the thick new layer of clothing, I feel sheltered again. I have some control back, and some dignity.

For that, at least, I am grateful.

Lucius nods coldly at me when I am dressed.

'That wasn't so hard, was it?'

I stand up, finally able to face him without embarrassment again.

'Aren't you going to give me any shoes?' I ask, my confidence coming back to me.

His sneers at my request.

'I really don't think that you should be pushing for more kindness than you deserve.'

Kindness?

Rage twists my insides, deep in my stomach.

He clicks his fingers at me like I'm one of his dogs.

'Come along,' he says briskly. 'The Dark Lord will be back soon, and we don't want to keep him waiting.'

'Oh no, we wouldn't want to upset Voldemort, would we.'

Why did I say that? It's only going to piss him off, why did I say it?

His face sets hard in anger. His features thicken and his eyes darken.

'You dare to say the Dark Lord's name?'

'Why shouldn't I?' I ask, suddenly not caring about angering him. Words just fly out of my mouth, heedless of the consequences they will have. 'It's just a name. It's not my fault you're such a coward that you can't bring yourself to say it.'

He looks really angry now. A muscle is going in his jaw and his eyes are flashing in rage.

It's the only time those eyes show any warmth - when he's angry.

Too late I realise that I've gone too far. Again.

For a clever girl, you're not too bright, Hermione.

'Coward,' he murmurs, not taking his eyes off of mine. 'You do like to think of me in that way, don't you? Does it make you feel better about yourself? Does it make you feel superior?'

'No,' I answer, feeling my face bloom with infuriation. 'I just speak my mind.'

He looks at me intently, obviously struggling against the anger written all over his face.

'You speak of what you don't understand.' His voice is practically whispering, creeping through the air, pulling goose bumps up on my arms. 'Tell me, Mudblood, Have you ever forced someone to serve you against their will? Have you ever caused a person so much pain that they beg you to allow them to die? Have you ever killed another?'

My mouth falls open as I stare at him, absolutely appalled.

'Of course I haven't-'

'Exactly.' He looks down at me, satisfaction arching his features. 'You speak of bravery and of cowardice, but you will never know what real courage is. To fight against your enemies as you do - that is not bravery. Any wild animal would do the same thing - it is basic human instinct, nothing more.'

'It is not,' I stammer. 'I could just do whatever you want me to do - that would certainly be easier for me. But I won't, because there's no principle in that route.'

'So you allow yourself to get hurt before you betray your friends. You allow yourself to be forced into betrayal.' His face arches into a sneer. 'That is not real bravery, because it is forced bravery.'

'So what's 'real bravery' then?' I throw the words like knives into his smug, self-satisfied face. 'To kill innocent, defenceless people? To force people to do the evil things you don't have the guts to do yourself? To torture a teenager, just because they're a Mudblood?'

He looks at me long and hard, his eyes burning into my face.

'No. 'Real bravery' means to put yourself out there, to push for your ideals, no matter what the cost. I have to commit acts that society sees as distasteful, evil perhaps, in order to serve my cause. To risk cutting yourself off from the entire world, to forget the principles of 'good' and 'evil'; that takes real courage.'

For a short while, I can't speak. Words turn themselves over in my mind, but I can't find any that will voice my thoughts adequately.

I just stare at him, both confused and repulsed by his twisted logic.

Eventually, I find my voice again.

'You don't have to do it.' I hate how my voice is shaking and trembling in my throat. 'You don't have to do those things to get what you want. There are other ways-'

'Oh really?' he interrupts me. 'Other ways of stamping out vermin such as yourself? No, I'm afraid there aren't. For some reason, people equate it to murder in this day and age.'

'Of course they do!' My voice fractures as I speak. 'We aren't vermin! We're human beings, just like you lot!'

'If you say so, Mudblood,' he says, his eyebrows rising disbelievingly.

'What you do isn't bravery.' I try so hard to keep my voice level, but I can't seem to stop it from wavering. 'If you weren't such a coward, you would refuse your master. You would refuse to commit such atrocities in his name.'

'Why should I refuse him?' he asks. 'You seem to be labouring under the misapprehension that I have a problem with what I have to do. Well I should tell you, Miss Granger, that I don't have any problem with it whatsoever. Whatever I have to do, I do it for the cause, and for that I am prepared to go as far as I possibly can, no matter what the price.'

'Why?' I ask, unable to comprehend how someone could think like this.

'Because the end justifies the means,' he replies, his voice rising in exasperation.

My mind flashes back to when he first began to torture me for information about Harry.

The end justifies the means, Miss Granger. Not that I would expect you to understand that. It's far too complex a concept for your young mind to comprehend.

I understand alright. It's not the policy I cannot comprehend. No, what I don't get is how anyone could think like that.

'You've said that to me before.' I look at him very closely, wanting to see him react in some way. 'I wonder - do you really believe it?'

'I don't have time for this!' he snaps suddenly.

Perhaps things are getting a little too personal for him.

He grabs me savagely by the arm, before dragging me violently out of the room.

He needn't bother being so forceful. I allow him to drag me down the corridor, too tired and too ill and too confused to put up any sort of a fight.

***

We arrive outside of the huge stone door to the great hall, the skin on my arm burning where he grips me. We haven't spoken to each other since we left my cell, but the little speech he made in my room fills my mind, clogging up my brain.

No matter how hard I try, I can't bring myself to understand him.

Perhaps you should try a little harder.

Why should I? Why should I try to understand reasoning like that?

I can't.

Or you won't?

The sound of raised voices filters out from behind the stone door.

Is Voldemort back already?

Let it have gone wrong. Please, let them have failed. Let everyone be alright...

I look up at Lucius, who frowns slightly before pushing the door open and pulling me into the room with him.

The hall is filled with people in black robes. Almost all of them looking as if they've been in a fight. The air buzzes and burns as they all argue with each other, shouting and screaming at one another in rage and confusion.

Something must have gone wrong!

The only one of them not talking is Voldemort, who stands in the middle of the room, his pale, horrible face twisted in an inhuman rage.

I involuntarily flinch at the sight of him, my body jolting with fright. Lucius looks down at me for a second, as if he felt me do it.

How does he feel when he sees his master? Do you grow used to that face with time, or do you become so accustomed that you learn to swallow down your fear?

Voldemort brings his spindly hands up to grip at his temples, before throwing his head back and screaming into the room.

'SILENCE!'

That scream is so high, so terrifying that it knocks all of my breath out of me.

All of the Death-Eaters shut up instantly, and all of them turn quickly to face Voldemort, who lets the silence spiral horribly through the room.

My heart beats so hard I can feel it in my ears. The blood pounds through my veins, robbing me of breath and making me sweat all the more.

A shudder runs through everyone in the room as we wait for Voldemort to speak.

How can they revolve their lives around the mood of this one man?

You have to do the same now. You have no choice but to do so.

'You stupid, useless people!' he shouts, looking around at his servants, who all seem to recoil slightly from him. 'How dare you conduct yourselves like this in my presence? This is not a time for arguing amongst yourselves!'

Something's gone wrong! Something must have gone wrong! Why else would they all be acting like this?

Although I know that I shouldn't, I allow myself to begin to hope. It lights up in my chest, making me feel alive again.

Voldemort looks over at me and Lucius as we stand in the doorway, watching the scene.

'Well don't just stand there!' Voldemort hisses at Lucius. 'Bring her here!'

Lucius pushes me forward into the room. My legs shake beneath me, and as we reach Voldemort I feel my body twitch and shiver involuntarily.

Try not to be weak this time. Keep your nerve, be brave!

'My Lord?' Lucius asks tentatively when we reach Voldemort. 'Did it... did everything go to plan?'

'No, it did not,' Voldemort answers shortly, his voice screeching. 'We went along to the Weasleys' home, as we planned. But Potter was not there, as you told me he would be.'

He wasn't there?

Lucius sucks in his breath next to me, but I hardly hear him.

Harry's safe! He's safe!

But what about the others? What about the people who were there?

I don't let myself hope, not until I know that everyone's alright.

'My Lord, I had no idea that the information I provided you with was faulty,' Lucius says swiftly, his voice shaking slightly, betraying his fear. 'The girl, she told me that it was true, and the quill did not contradict her-'

'I do not have time for excuses Lucius.' Voldemort raises a hand to stop Lucius' words. 'I do not blame you, but I would ask you to see to it that the girl is punished for this.'

Why? I've no idea why he wasn't there! I thought I was telling the truth, and the quill said that I was being truthful-

It doesn't matter. Just be grateful that it turned out that you weren't telling the truth, after all.

But who did they find there? The house wasn't empty, from the sound of things.

Don't let anyone else have been hurt...

Don't let them have found Ron!

I hold my breath, waiting for the story to finish.

'We forced our way into the house, but they must have seen us coming.' Voldemort turns away from us, and walks around the hall. I think that this speech might be intended not just for Lucius, but for everyone in the room. 'As we got into the house, everyone there was either Apparating out of there or using the fireplace to escape via the Floo network.'

He pauses for a moment, putting his hand to his forehead for a moment, as if this is a painful memory for him.

I suppose it is - I imagine that his greatest wish is get rid of Harry.

'It took us only a short while to realise that Potter was not there - he was nowhere to be seen.' Voldemort brings is hand away from his forehead and looks back at Lucius, who tenses slightly beside me. 'A few Aurors remained to try and hold us off while the others escaped. I searched around for the girl, the youngest Weasley, thinking that perhaps we could make the best of a bad job, seeing as the entire family will probably go into hiding now that they are aware that we know where they live. But I could not find her. She must have escaped before we entered the building.'

I sigh with relief as quietly as I can.

It's all okay, it sounds as if everyone's alright-

'However,' Voldemort adds, cutting my relief short. 'The trip was not entirely in vain. We managed to capture someone whom I think will become very useful, if I am right in my assumption.'

No!

I can't breathe. I feel vomit burn the back of my throat.

Who have they caught?

It's all my fault! Whoever they've got, it's all my fault...

Voldemort turns to a large group of Death-Eaters standing at the back of the hall and clicks his fingers at them.

'Bring him forward.'

Who?

I crane my neck to try and see who they're talking about.

And then a couple of men break through from behind the crowd of Death-Eaters. They're dragging a boy forward, towards Voldemort. The prisoner is unconscious, I think. His head is hanging limply forward.

But all I see is a blaze of red hair.

OhmyGodohmyGod!

It's... I think it's...

'Revive him,' Voldemort says coldly.

One of the Death-Eaters points their wand at the boy and mutters 'Innerverate.'

For a few moments, the boy's head continues to hang forward lifelessly.

Let him be alright! Don't let him be... he can't be...

But then his head moves slowly upwards, his eyes drowsily flickering as they begin to focus on Voldemort.

Oh my God!

'RON!'

At the sound of my voice his face turns to me. His eyes widen, and he seems to wake up fully as he sees me.

'You!' he breathes incredulously, his voice very weak.

Without thinking about what I'm doing, I wrench myself from Lucius' grip and I run over to Ron, throwing my arms around his neck when I reach him. The Death-Eaters holding him let him go, and the pair of us fall to the floor. Tears run down my face as I grip at him, and I feel the shoulder of my new robes dampening where his forehead presses into me.

'I thought you were dead!' he whispers hoarsely, his voice thick and cracking slightly.

I've hardly ever seen him cry.

I lean back and grasp his face in my hands, wanting to take in every detail of his face.

My God, he's... he looks terrible! There's blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, he's got a black eye and there's a deep gash running down one of his cheeks. It's a fresh cut, from the looks of it - beads of blood are leaking out of it. He's really pale, and his eyes look a little unfocused after his stunning.

'What have they done to you?' I whisper.

'M'alright,' he mumbles through his tears. 'They just... I couldn't-'

'Shhh. Save your strength.'

I bring his head back to my shoulder, and I rock back and forth while holding him to me. The tears run thick and fast down my face, running into his red hair as I lean my cheek against his head. I'm crying because he shouldn't be here, he can't be here - I don't want him to be hurt.

But a small part of me is crying out of happiness. I thought I'd never see Ron's face again.

Over his shoulder I look up and I see Lucius, who is watching us hold each other with his lip slightly curled up in what looks like disgust.

It's not just disgust, though. I can't explain it. There's something else there...

Voldemort turns to Lucius, who turns away from me, robbing me of the chance to decipher his expression.

I don't know why I bother trying. I'll never be able to understand him.

'It is a touching reunion, is it not, Lucius?' Voldemort asks, his voice laden with scorn.

I expect Lucius to smile. I expect him to make a scathing comment about the pair of us, and to laugh along with his master.

But he doesn't. He just inclines his head slightly at Voldemort.

'As you say, my Lord.'

Voldemort raises his eyebrows slightly.

'Well, whatever you think of it, it has confirmed what I already believed - that this is Ron Weasley, the other close friend of Potter's that you told me about.'

I grip Ron tighter to me, and I close my eyes as he clutches at me. I want to block everything else out. I just want to keep this moment - I want to stay here with Ron, together like this for long enough to forget everything.

'If I may be permitted to ask, my Lord - how did you manage to get hold of the boy?' Lucius' voice pierces through the shield I have built around myself.

'It was all too easy,' Voldemort replies, his cold voice pulling me back to where I am. 'He charged at us almost as soon as we entered the house, screaming like a madman. I assume he wished to avenge his little lady friend here.'

Lucius breathes a small laugh. It rips me out of my warm cocoon, pulls me screaming back to the surface. My eyes snap open and I watch him as he looks scornfully at Ron.

He's worth ten of you, you piece of-

'I stunned him before he could cause himself any damage,' Voldemort tells Lucius. 'But as he fell, I noted his hair colour and his age, and it occurred to me that he might easily be Ron Weasley. I ordered our people to drag him out of the house, and to bring him back here using the portkey we had set up in the field nearby, which I originally intended to use to bring Potter back here. It was no easy task getting the boy out of the house - the remaining adults tried to stop us. Two of them, I am pleased to say, died in the attempt. One red-haired old fool who I assume was the boy's father was severely wounded, but I think he may live-'

Ron's head shoots up from my shoulder at Voldemort's words.

'If he dies...' His breathing is heavy and ragged with anger and exhaustion. 'If he dies, I swear I'll-'

'You'll what?' Lucius cuts across him, his face full of derision. 'What will you do, you stupid boy?'

Ron pulls himself out of my grasp and stands up quickly. I get up with him, to give him some back up - I know how terrifying it is to face these two on your own. As Ron stands up fully he stumbles slightly, and I grip on to his arm, trying to support him.

Voldemort throws back his head and laughs at Ron, while Lucius simply sneers at my friend.

'SHUT UP!' Ron shouts, gripping on to my arm so hard it feels as if his fingernails are going to pop through my skin. 'If my dad dies, I'll rip you apart, I swear-'

Voldemort stops laughing, but carries on smiling that horrible smile of his. Lucius' face darkens, and I feel a familiar sense of dread gripping me around the heart.

'You'll speak when spoken to, boy,' Lucius says quietly before lowering his wand at Ron. 'Crucio!'

No!

Ron falls to the floor, screaming in pain. He bucks and writhes on the ground, bawling as he kicks his legs out in agony.

I don't know what to do. I fall to the ground next to him, struggling to try and hold on to him, to try to help him, to do anything...

But what can I do? Nothing will take away the pain. Nothing will take away the feeling that death would be welcome if only the pain would stop. I know that.

Stop stop stop it!

All I can do is watch as he spasms, twitches and SCREAMS, tears rolling down his bloodied, damaged face, which twists and contorts with agony. Nothing can stop it, nothing-

Except Lucius.

'Stop it!' I scream at Lucius. 'Stop it! He doesn't deserve this! Please...'

But he just looks at me, his mouth curling up into a tiny smile as Ron screams and writhes on the floor.

'WHY?' Useless, pointless words push their way out of my mouth. He's got to stop, he's got to. 'WHAT HAS HE DONE? STOP IT, STOP IT!'

'Enough!' Voldemort's shout cuts through my screams.

'As you wish, my Lord.' Lucius raises his wand.

Thank god! Thank-you, thank-you.

I reach out to Ron, who cowers on the floor, whimpering and trembling in the aftermath of the torture. I fold my arms around him, leaning my head on his back as I feel tears of sympathy start in my own eyes. I whisper to him, murmuring stupid, trite words of comfort in an attempt to help him-

'It's alright, it's ok, it'll be alright, I promise you.'

'If anyone is going to administer punishment to the boy for speaking out of turn in front of me it shall be me, Lucius.' Voldemort's voice is lightly reprimanding.

I look up at Lucius, who inclines his head to Voldemort slightly.

'I am sorry my lord, I just couldn't stand his impudence a minute longer.'

You evil, heartless bastard! Why why why did you do that?

'Hmm.' Voldemort frowns at Lucius before turning back to me and Ron. 'You needn't worry, boy,' he says, his cold voice full of mocking. 'Your father's injuries were perfectly survivable. We would not want to dispose of him - not while we have his son in our power. Think of the use we could get out of this situation!'

Ron lifts his head slightly. His whole body is shaking beneath me.

'What do you mean?' he asks, his voice very weak.

Voldemort laughs while Lucius rolls his eyes disbelievingly.

I know what Voldemort means. I can guess, anyway. They could blackmail the Weasleys into doing anything if they've got Ron in their clutches. Who knows what a parent would do to keep their child alive and safe?

Voldemort doesn't answer Ron, but turns to Lucius.

'We do not have Potter, but we can use this pair to considerable advantage. We can still get any manner of information out of them, and then we can use them in any way we see fit, not least to get to Potter. But first things first.'

He turns to his Death-Eaters, who all seem to cower slightly.

'Williams?'

An old man in a black robe steps forward tentatively, cringing and breathing shallowly.

'Greenham was taken by some Aurors, was he not?' The way that Voldemort asks this question makes me almost certain that he already knows the answer.

'Y-yes, my Lord,' Williams replies. He's got a small, reedy voice. At the sound of it I feel a twinge of pity for him, high up in my chest.

Pity for a Death-Eater?

'You two were meant to be fighting one of the Aurors that tried to stop us from taking the boy, is that correct?'

He already knows the answer, I'm certain of it.

'My Lord,' Williams gasps. I feel another twist of pity for him. 'We tried so hard, but Greenham was stunned-'

'It was two on one,' Voldemort interrupts him, a terrible finality in his words. 'I have no room for failure.'

Voldemort turns around and goes to sit on his throne as Williams shrinks and shakes behind him. I can't help but feel sorry for the old man. Who knows what Voldemort might do to someone who has displeased him?

I have an idea, after what has happened to me over the last few days.

As Voldemort sits himself down on his throne, he pulls his wand out of his robes.

'Goodbye, Williams,' he says quietly.

What? He can't mean-

'NO!' Williams throws himself to the ground, crawling on his knees towards Voldemort. 'No, my Lord! I have always been loyal! It was not my fault! Please, my Lord, please!'

'Don't embarrass yourself, Williams.' Voldemort leans backwards and points his wand at the old, weeping man on the floor beneath him. 'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

I scream presses itself into my mouth, but fear stops any sound from leaving my lips as I see the blast of green light hit the old man in the chest. All of the pain, fear, emotion and life leave his eyes and he falls backwards and lands sprawled on the floor, his glasses askew on his thin, old face. His eyes are blank and wide open, staring into an unknown distance. They're empty. Dead.

He just... he just...

I've never seen a dead person before.

How could he just... and so quickly.

Just... gone.

Oh, my, god!

'Jesus Christ!' I hear Ron whisper next to me. I look back at him, and I see his face drain of colour as he looks in horror at the corpse on the ground in front of us. I grip at his hand, and he grips mine back. Both of us hold on to each other, as if we might somehow be able to keep each other safe.

At least I have him with me now.

You shouldn't be thankful for that! Now he will suffer along with you.

Voldemort looks to the rest of his followers, and a shiver runs through them.

How can they live like this? How can they live in fear, day in, day out?

'We will need to act swiftly.' Voldemort's voice is cold, authoritative, and perfectly calm. 'Price, contact our spies at the Ministry and tell them that a Death-Eater has been taken prisoner. I need them to get to Greenham before he is questioned and to Obliviate him, or to kill him if necessary.'

One of the Death-Eaters standing in front of Voldemort bows low to his master before turning and walking to the sealed up passageway at the back of the hall. He lets himself out of the room, and the passageway seals up again behind him after he has left.

Voldemort looks down at me and Ron. I hear Ron suck in his breath next to me. I turn to him and I see that his face is completely drained of colour.

I remember how I felt when I was first confronted with Voldemort. Like I'd never seen anything worse than that face. It doesn't seem to have quite the same effect on me anymore - whether it's because I know what to expect now, or... I don't know.

'Lucius, I believe that you enlisted Bella and Antonin to help you in your... work with the Mudblood yesterday.'

'That I did, my Lord,' Lucius replies swiftly.

'What-' Ron starts to talk, but I grip at his hand. He looks at me, and I shake my head slightly at his questioning look.

Fortunately, I don't think Voldemort or Lucius heard him.

'In that case, I believe it's probably best that I give the three of you responsibility over the pair of them,' Voldemort continues. 'From now on, these two prisoners are the appointed task for the three of you. You shall be responsible for the information I want out of them, and any use we will put them to afterwards. Your first task is to carry on with what you have already started - I want all of the information I asked for, every little detail. Do I make myself clear?'

'Certainly, my Lord.'

Lucius bows to Voldemort, before clicking at several other Death-Eaters standing behind us and making a gesture at Ron. They grab Ron and pull him up from the floor. I try to keep a grip on his hand, but we are ripped apart from each other as they pull him towards the door. I stand glued to the floor as they drag him away from me, and I feel as if a piece of me has been torn away.

'Hermione!'

Before I can reply, or offer any words of comfort, the Death-Eaters drag him out of the room.

As I watch him leave, Lucius strides over to me and grips me by the arm. I look up at him, and he meets my gaze with no emotion whatsoever, before dragging me out of the room and back to my cell.