Nest of Vipers

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The original intention of the new government was to destroy the Order of the Phoenix; all its members were declared outcast, criminals by nature. Several of them had perished during the Battle of Hogwarts, but many remained during the war that followed. Lucius Malfoy and others were given the task of hunting them down. The members of the Order, however, were not easy to find - not only did they hide with skill, they virtually created a rebellion in their efforts to survive, bringing many to awareness of Voldemort's wrongdoings long before they would have come up with the idea on their own.

As the years passed, the bounties and hunting parties increased in size, as did the rebellion, until the Second Battle of Surrey, where Draco Malfoy rescinded the active orders to hunt the surviving members of the Order down; in that moment, those witches and wizards became worth no more than any other rebel. Reasons for the move remain unknown, and it is considered one of the few puzzling things of Draco Malfoy's reign.

--- The New History of Britain, Book III

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Hermione nervously stood in front of Ginny's mirror. Although it galled her to do so, she had made the effort of appearing as impeccably groomed as possible for her interview - or perhaps sentence - that would take place today. Lucius Malfoy was known for his elegance and taste, and for a ragged Hermione and Charlie to appear on his doorstep would be an insult that they could not afford to give him just yet.

Most of her clothes and possessions were missing or destroyed, and thanks to the Ministry, which was now securely controlled by Lucius Malfoy, whatever assets her parents had were gone. Under normal circumstances, muggle money was beyond wizarding control, but since the Grangers had left everything to their daughter, the money had been transferred to Hermione's Gringotts account. Unfortunately, that had been a very bad idea, for a few months later, Voldemort's new government had left her penniless. Charlie was suffering through the same dilemma - although he jokingly said it was really no different from his previous circumstances.

But even though Hermione could not afford a new set of formal robes, she had managed to save her favorite set of dress robes. It was perhaps too cheery for today's occasion, as it was a summer lilac color, but then again, it was far better than the worn down day robes she had. And although she could have borrowed from Ginny's closest, the grief was still too great for Hermione to wear the youngest Weasley's clothes.

With trembling hands, she brushed out her hair, which was now thick and wavy. Deciding to tie the mass back with a plain ribbon, she pulled her hair back and worked the ribbon into her hair. Satisfied, she stepped back and examined herself carefully. The robes were of light silk, and the borders were hemmed with dark purple flowers. It was more suited to her figure, and it emphasized her slender neck and small waist. It was a lovely outfit, to be sure, and she deeply regretted having to wear this today. The last time she had worn it was during her graduation party...

"Wow, Hermione." Ronald Weasley was speechless as he eyed one of his best friends. "You look beautiful."

A pleased blush stole across her features. "Ron, be serious."

He gazed at her intently, a hidden meaning hovering in the warm blue eyes. "I promised you once that I would never lie to you, unless it was to keep you safe." He reached into the pocket of his own graduation robes - a new set that had been a gift from Percy - and pulled out a narrow, rectangular box. "This is for you."

It had been a delicate bracelet of gold, a token of promise from Ron to Hermione. She had worn it faithfully until the day he had followed Harry into battle.

"Keep this with you, Ron, so you can give it back to me."

But the bracelet had never returned to her, and neither had the person who had given it to her.

Today, with this dress, the loss of the familiar, comforting weight on her wrist was even more noticeable. Forcibly moving her attention from her wrist, she examined her face now. Her skin was too pale, her cheeks were hollow, and her eyes lacked their customary sparkle. And unlike her body, she could not dress up her face. Briefly she considered using makeup, but a small trace of pride within her stayed her impulse. I look this way because they did this to me. I have no cause for shame.

Smoothing her robes with shaky hands, she made her way out of Ginny's room and headed downstairs, where Charlie was waiting for her. He too was dressed in a crisp set of robes, and his normally wild hair was neatly brushed. "Are you ready, Hermione?"

The message in his eyes was clear. Say the word, and I will send back the portkey.

"I'm ready," she said firmly. He nodded at her briefly before pulling the envelope from his pocket.

"If I didn't hate Malfoy so much, I really would admire his ingenuity," he remarked as they made their way outside. The day was bright and warm, the sun beaming down at them almost happily. "The portkey is the letter. We just have to touch our wands to it."

Hermione nodded distantly. "His son certainly inherited his father's intelligence." When they reached the little clearing outside of the Burrow, she withdrew her wand and waited for Charlie to do the same. Then, in a synchronous movement, they touched their wands to the letter.

The Burrow disappeared.

"To be frank, I was pleasantly surprised that you accepted my summons." A tall man, he had been graced with silky, pale blond hair and equally pale gray eyes. Dressed in clothes of black and gray, he seemed to be a figure from old, aristocratic France. Elegant in every way, his study was something that Hermione approved of - even if she hated the man himself. Books lined every shelf on the walls, and several ceiling to floor windows allowed sunlight to stream into the room. The colors were muted maroon and ash, and the furniture was of sturdy cherry wood. It was a gentleman's study.

"We didn't have much choice, did we?" snapped Hermione. Seated next to her in a plush armchair, Charlie flashed her a look that said, Be careful.

Malfoy chuckled, his laugh a warm, rumbling sound. "Ah, Miss Granger, you are quite mistaken. You did have a choice - to accept or to die." He flashed her a dangerous smile. "Death would have been a very - Gryffindoric - choice to make."

"Gryffindors aren't cowards." Charlie's voice was firm, and for a moment, it seemed he had forgotten that he was correcting Voldemort's right-hand man.

"I did not say they were. But they are foolish." Silver eyes glittered over the rim of his glass. "The choice you made in coming here today was rather Slytherin of you. Please spare me the insulted look, Miss Granger. As much as you would like to deny it, Slytherins have some very good characteristics - such as the ability to adapt." Malfoy leaned forward. "And both of you have made that first step in adapting by coming here today."

Tired of such banter, Hermione decided to go straight to the point. "Mr. Malfoy, why have we been summoned here today? If we are going to die, we would appreciate it if you would simply tell us and stop wasting our time."

But instead of taking insult, he regarded them both for a few seconds before speaking. "I have a proposition to offer both of you." He stood and went to the window behind his desk. The filtered sunlight through the delicate glass gave him a sort of unearthly look. "As you know, many intelligent and skilled wizards are dead."

"That's because you killed them."

"Miss Granger, please allow me to finish." At her stiff nod, he continued. "I do not expect you to understand the necessity for disposing of them - indeed, I have no intention of explaining to you why. But the fact remains that many important positions are left open." He turned to face them. "You may have asked yourself why neither of you have joined the rest of your unfortunate friends and family. The answer to that is quite simple - because we feel that you are still useful to us."

Charlie clenched his hands. Hermione reached over and covered his hand with hers. "If you think we're going to work for you," began Charlie, anger threading through his normally calm voice.

"That is exactly what I think," interrupted Malfoy. "If you had no interest in making a compromise, then you would not have appeared on my doorstep."

"I'm muggle-born, Mr. Malfoy, and Charlie is the son of a man you publicly despised. I fail to see why you would wish for our service. And even if you have a good reason, you forget that Voldemort murdered our friends and family."

His eyes glittered coldly. "I will not deny that I do not approve of muggle-borns. But I am not so foolish as to deny that they are not useful. Regardless of your unfortunate parentage, you are still a talented witch, more so than your deceased friends." Although Malfoy's words were a compliment, the sneer on his face made his opinion in the matter very clear. "As for Mr. Weasley - the Weasleys were purebloods, and it is important that we preserve such bloodlines. Charles's athletic abilities, magical talent, and affinity with highly dangerous animals made him the prime choice for preservation."

Hermione felt sick. It seemed as if Voldemort and his followers had played god by choosing who was worthy of life and who was not. "And what uses do you have for us?" Hermione's voice was shaking, although she could not tell if it was from either anger or the cold fear pooling in her belly.

"That remains to be seen. Over the next few months, both of you will be evaluated to see where your particular talents can best be applied." And if you really are a use to us. The unspoken thought hovered in the air. "You can, of course, decline now or later. But then only one option remains to you, and it would be a pity to see such minds wasted. Whether you choose it or not is entirely up to you." Malfoy walked around his desk to stand in front of them.

Charlie forcibly calmed his breathing, but Hermione could see that he wanted to strike the coolly poised man in front of him. "And our assets? Will you return them to us?"

Malfoy leaned against his desk, an image that strangely reminded her of the time she saw Siberian snow tigers in a zoo once - silver, dangerous, and ready to pounce. "Ah," he murmured. "Forgive me for being indelicate, Mr. Weasley, but even if your assets are returned, they will hardly improve your current situation. Or yours, Miss Granger," he added as an afterthought. "But yes, all your confiscated assets shall be returned to you."

"Forgive me, Mr. Malfoy, but your offer seems too generous. There is something else." Charlie's eyes glittered just as coldly.

A familiar, deep voice answered from behind them. "Your astuteness does you credit, Mr. Weasley." A tall, dark-haired man entered their field of vision. "It is quite a shame that it was wasted in Romania for several years."

"Professor Snape."

Their old Potions Master gave them cold looks. "Due to Lord Voldemort's...benevolence, you both have been permitted to stay alive. However, there is a price attached to your lives." A look of discomfort crossed his face. "Both of you are aware of the Dark Lord's parentage, so it should come as no surprise that he has taken a personal interest in the welfare of Miss Granger, and he has always taken an interest in purebloods. He is prepared to forgive your familial background if you agree to swear an oath of allegiance to him."

Hermione reached over and grasped Charlie's hand, mostly in an effort to keep him from attacking either Malfoy or Snape. Malfoy saw the gesture, and another sneer crossed his face. "If you swear the oath, you will be rewarded quite handsomely."

"All for a simple oath?" whispered Hermione.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "An oath is never simple, especially one to our lord. He will hold you to it."

"I don't understand why we are so important."

"Because, Mr. Weasley, our lord says you are."

An hour later, Snape, Malfoy, Hermione, and Charlie emerged from the study. "Think about our offer." Snape fixed them both with stern glances. "Do not indulge in a typical show of Gryffindor idealism and reject our proposal."

Malfoy handed them another envelope. "A portkey," he explained. "We will give you this night to think upon our offer. By noon tomorrow I will send an owl to you." He leaned down and gave Hermione a chilling smile. "I trust you know which answer would be the best for you."

"After noon tomorrow, you will be hunted again. Make your decision wisely." Snape and Malfoy stepped back as Hermione and Charlie withdrew their wands. "Have a pleasant evening."

"To you too, sir," muttered Hermione before Malfoy Manor disappeared from her sight.

That night, Hermione considered the proposal. The terms that Snape had laid down were generous. He would provide her with a home, money, and education - only if she became his apprentice, and only if she swore the oath. Charlie would be under Malfoy's wing, although Hermione could not fathom why Malfoy would want a dragon tamer.

But could she work with Snape? He must have betrayed Dumbledore, for how else would he have survived? It disappointed her because out of all her teachers, she had secretly respected Snape the most. She had believed that Slytherin House could be redeemed through their Head of House.

Apparently not.

Yet the idea had its merits. If she and Charlie could rise through the echelons of the new society and then betray the people they had sworn to trust - vengeance would certainly be served. After all, she would swear an oath to Voldemort, but it would not break the previous oaths she had made.

Hermione held her father as he died. "I will avenge you," she promised.

"No," he rasped. "Take care of your mother." Hermione did not have the heart to tell him that her mother was already dead.

Charlie entered the room slowly. Hermione stood at the far end of Ginny's room, one arm resting on the ledge of an open window. Her back was to the door, so she was unaware of his presence. He stopped for a moment and watched the woman silhouetted against the twinkling stars. Her tattered dressing gown was a far cry from the elegance of her dress robes, and her hair was mussed, as if she had just woken up from sleep. He took a few steps closer, as he was reluctant to disturb her cherished solitude.

He must have made a noise, for she gestured for him to come closer. "It's amazing to think about how distant those stars are." Her normally cheerful voice sounded almost dead. Charlie moved closer and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "They are so far away that a simple glance means a journey back in time." Her brown eyes met his in a mixture of resignation and loss. "Sometimes I wish that it was as easy to map the life of a person as it is to map the life of a star." Her eyes went back to the night sky. "But I suppose life wouldn't be worth living if you knew how every phase would end."

"What is it, Hermione?" He wiped the tears off her face, distantly thinking how he had done this before when she had been younger. She had often spent holidays at the Burrow, and Ron would often upset her. Charlie would come to the rescue by knocking sense into his brother and convincing Hermione that Ron didn't mean what he said.

"I hate losing," she said finally. "I never want to admit defeat, much less pay the consequences of failing to win."

Charlie tilted her chin up. "We haven't lost yet, Hermione." He released her and picked up one of Ginny's old dolls from a nearby table. "Revenge," he sighed. "Is there a more delicious word? Sometimes I repeat it to myself before I fall asleep. It gives me pleasant dreams."

Hermione met his eyes again. "Me too."

Above them, the stars twinkled cheerfully.