Abyss

Chapter 11

Voldemort's hand curled in her hair and pulled her head upright.

"Don't hide the shame, Hermione," Voldemort said. "Let every initiated Death Eater see your anguished face."

Hermione saw a vision in her head of curling her fingers around the Dark Lord's neck again and squeezing, squeezing as hard as she could. She did not care if the Death Eaters cursed her to oblivion if she could only kill him for Harry and Dumbledore and the Order. And for herself.

Voldemort smiled, eyes narrowed in pleasure. "Oh, don't hate me yet, Hermione. So much more is going to happen here for you to hate me now."

Hermione's mind came back to reality and sharpened to a fine point. The recruits, a mass of physical darkness, were oozing their way across the vast lawn. The Death Eaters, Black Dogs, and Cat's Paws had donned their masks and formed a semi-circle around Lord Voldemort's throne. The new recruits would complete the circle at the end of the ceremony. They had all become strangely silent for their members, even the Cat's Paws, who, resplendent in their well-tailored, dark-crimson robes, draped themselves over their respective Black Dogs in their coal black robes.

A sign of the apocalypse, Hermione thought grimly. Dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria.

Lucius lead the recruits forward into the light of the torches--they, too, were wearing robes of the group in which they would be initiated. The hoods were down, and Hermione could see their faces as they lined up according to future ranks--Cat's Paws, Black Dogs next, then a small line of Death Eaters. She shuddered as faces were recognized.

Voldemort's grip on her hair softened, and he gently stroked the top of her head.

"So it begins," he murmured. Then, with his free hand, he beckoned to the recruits.

"Come forward," he called to them.

The Cat's Paws were the first to approach the Dark Lord. All through the ceremony, Voldemort stroked her unruly mass of curls with his left hand. He held out his right hand for the recruits to kiss before prostrating themselves before him and kissing his left boot reverently.

"Pansy," Hermione whispered under her breath. The cute Slytherin giggled as she stood upright from her degradation.

"About time, Mudblood," Pansy muttered, eyes twinkling gleefully. "You're right where you belong."

Hermione tolled her eyes. "And they call me a whore," she said.

Voldemort leaned over and whispered in her ear, "You are." The candor of the dispassionate statement shocked Hermione into silence through the remainder of the Cat's Paw initiation. Lavender Brown sneered at Hermione. There were a few other Slytherin girls and a Hufflepuff. Not a single Ravenclaw.

The Cat's Paws lined next to the veteran Dark followers and waited for Voldemort's blessing.

"Do you know your duty?" Lord Voldemort asked. His soft voice carried effortlessly over the crowd.

"We know our duty," the new Cat's Paws intoned.

"And to whom do you owe your loyalty?"

"To our Dark Lord and Master."

"Do you know the punishment for disobedience?"

"We do."

Voldemort raised his wand to the sky. "Signa feline," he cried. It was as though invisible claws had raked red tears in the air.

"Separate," the Dark Lord then said, and the cat claws split and applied themselves to the upper arms of the new Cat's Paws. Hermione heard a few of them cry out in pain, and all of them grasped impulsively at the burning of the mark.

"Your vow has been sealed," Voldemort said. "Do not fail me."

Voldemort stood to pace beside the initiated Cat's Paws. Before a few of them, he lifted the chins and examined them. Hermione watched as each Cat's Paw tried not to flinch. Only Pansy grinned and rubbed her cheek against his hand. The gestures brought a smile to Voldemort's mouth.

"That, my precious kittens, is what you were supposed to do. You will not always be flirting with the man of your choice," Voldemort announced. He took Pansy by the arm to a cluster of veteran mistresses of state.

"Take her into your care," Voldemort instructed. "The others still need training." The recruits flinched.

The Dark Lord returned to his throne and beckoned to the Black Dogs, who went through the same deferential ritual. Most of the Black Dogs were older men and a few older women that Hermione did not recognize. The youngest of the lot were none other than Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle--and the way they were sneering stupidly at her made her stomach tighten. Malfoy was here.

The speech Voldemort made was similar, but the incantation he spoke to the sky was "Signa canine." The three black claw marks fell onto the Black Dogs' right forearms directly opposite the Death Eaters' Dark Mark. Unlike the Cat's Paws, they crouched to the ground in the circle with heads bowed. Voldemort took a chalice inlaid with garnets and dipped his fingers into the cup. The Black Dogs lifted their foreheads, and Voldemort removed his hand from the chalice--his white fingers were dripping with thick blood.

"From my blood," Voldemort murmured, smearing each forehead with the crimson liquid. With horror, Hermione realized Voldemort was drawing on the powerful bonds of blood baptizing. The perverted baptism enforced absolute loyalty on pain of death or worse. If they betrayed, Voldemort would know.

"If you ever speak my name or reveal the Dark Mark, you will be killed." The words were cold and laced with authority. "You answer only to me, but no one will know of us. From my blood, the binding is secured. So be it."

"So be it," the new Black Dogs replied. They got to their feet and covered their faces with the black hoods and masks.

Again, Voldemort returned to his throne. He handed the chalice to Hermione. With a cock of an eyebrow, Voldemort made it clear that were Hermione to empty the contents of the chalice, not just his blood would be spilled that night. When he sat back in his chair, he let his hand wrap loosely around the nape of her neck.

"My Death Eaters," he crooned.

There were seven Death Eaters recruits, and Hermione recognized all of them. Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Morag MacDougal, a quiet Slytherin who Hermione thought had more sense, Lisa Turpin, a notoriously ambitious Ravenclaw, Susan Bones, which made Hermione narrow her eyes in suspicion, and Theodore Nott.

"Come here, my own," Voldemort hissed in barely repressed delight.

The recruits approached him as one. One by one, they kissed Voldemort's left hand and right boot. Draco blew Hermione a kiss as he stepped away. The knowing glint in his eye more than worried her. Blaise, Millicent, Theodore, and Morag did not spare the Mudblood pet any glance. Susan and Lisa's eyes flickered to her nervously. Both of them had encountered Hermione in all her Head Girl glory, and it was difficult to reconcile the proud Gryffindor with the humbled slave before them, her original authority still lingered in their memories. Susan, in particular, seemed shocked at Hermione's state. It was then Hermione saw the silver chain, the one Neville had given Susan the previous Christmas, and Hermione understood.

No, Susan, she pleaded silently. Not for revenge. Not here. You're no match...

After the recruits had fallen to one knee, Voldemort took the chalice from Hermione.

"Signa morte," Voldemort muttered with none of the ceremony used for the others.

"My Death Eaters," he said, "my children, you have proven to be the most loyal, the most zealous, the most focused, and the most powerful of my followers. As a reward, you are admitted into my inner circle, my circle of power, my own. Your body has been branded with my Mark, your flesh is my flesh. But the ritual is incomplete."

"Draco Malfoy," Lord Voldemort said. Draco stood, eyes downcast. "You have proved your loyalty. Now prove your devotion." He held the chalice under Draco's mouth. "Drink."

Draco looked at Hermione, winked, then put the cup to his lips and drank from the blood of the cup. Hermione trembled. She knew this ritual, and it frightened her. Voldemort was delving deep into blood magic, the Darkest kind, more potent than even life debts or blood baptism. Susan was trembling.

"Blaise Zabini. You have proven your loyalty. Now prove your devotion. Drink."

The chalice was passed down the line, and each recruit drank Lord Voldemort's blood.

He took the chalice back into his hands and drank the rest of it before setting it at the foot of the throne. He circled the new Death Eaters like a preying vulture.

"And so you are flesh of my flesh; your blood is mine; your soul is mine; your life is mine. My Death Eaters. We have become one, and I own you. However..."

The word trailed away, and the Death Eater recruits shifted nervously at the sudden, cold note in his speech.

Voldemort continued, "One of you whose life belongs to me by explicit consent denies me within her mind. She foolishly pretends to be my faithful follower and does not realize that I let her come this far to damn her--and we need a sacrifice of traitorous flesh." Voldemort halted behind Susan Bones and laughed in the shell of her ears. His dexterous fingers curled around the frame of her skull, dipping into her pretty red hair.

"And to think," he whispered, "all you've done to help those you love is for nothing but your eternal damnation. You even killed for me. Your family would be so disappointed."

Tears streamed down Susan's face.

"Good-bye, my child. Give my regards at the gates of hell."

"I'll see you there," Susan cried in one last attempt to rebel.

Voldemort only laughed. "I'd have to die first," he said smoothly. Then he snapped her neck with an effective, abrupt twist of her head. Susan crumbled to the ground.

"No," Hermione whimpered. She could just see Neville's heartbroken face. Neville...

Against all restrictions placed upon her, Hermione crawled forward. Draco kicked her and Voldemort stepped forward, raising his wand, but Hermione dove to Susan's wrist and unclasped the chain.

"Petrificus Totalus," Voldemort chanted easily. Hermione froze in her position on all fours. Voldemort reclaimed the chain and stared at it in the firelight. The make was simple with just a small heart charm, but Voldemort looked at it for a long while. Finally, he released Hermione from the spell.

"Sentimental value only," Voldemort said, throwing the chain to the ground at Hermione's hands. "You may keep it. Your punishment comes later."

The remainder of the Death Eater recruits smiled nastily.

Voldemort turned from Hermione and gestured to Susan's body. "Take her life's flesh and blood."

The Death Eater recruits did not even ask the Dark Lord how. They knelt to the ground and bit into Susan's skin like beasts, and they ate and drank her death.

When they finally broke away from the body, their mouths, chins, fingers, and robes were stained, and Hermione could not look at the remains of the sweet Hufflepuff she remembered. To her small credit, Lisa looked disgusted, but she said nothing and even laughed when Voldemort Levitated the corpse to the great bonfire and dropped it in.

"Welcome, my Death Eaters. You have been initiated and found worthy. Your loyalty, your life, is to none but me."

The new Death Eaters bowed one final time before donning their own haunting hoods and joining the senior members behind the throne. The circle expanded until it was complete. There was a surge of power concentrated in the Dark Lord, and he laughed until the power receded. The circle visibly relaxed.

"The ceremony is finished," Voldemort announced. "Cat's Paws, meet with your new members. Black Dogs, assemble and instruct your own. My Death Eaters and I will stay. Leave us."

The Cat's Paws and Black Dogs slowly shifted away, sauntering toward the woods where they could Apparate without disturbing the Dark Lord.

The Death Eaters silently glided around so that they were facing Voldemort, awaiting what was coming next. They were edgy, and Hermione felt that although the official ceremony was complete, there was still something to be done.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Voldemort whirled around to face her, his demeanor like a cat with feathers in its mouth. A murmur of laughter rippled along the line of Death Eaters. She fought the desire to crawl back or curl into a quivering ball of fear. No one should look as pleased as Voldemort did at that moment.

"Well, my dear Hermione, you played your part beautifully with Severus, didn't she, my Death Eaters?" Voldemort began circling her, eyes half-lidded in barely-concealed pleasure. "And you were allowed to watch initiation rites Aurors would kill to see. You're really getting a taste of what the Dark Arts are and what I am. But have you tasted enough?"

Hermione stared at him. What was he trying to say? She had been kidnapped, tortured, raped, degraded, and neglected, and he was asking her if she had tasted enough?

"Yes, I know what you've been through, Hermione. But surely you don't believe that's all we can do. You see, the Death Eaters have a tradition--a form of hazing, if you will--for the new ones, something that will let them have a taste of all they can do. MacNair, Bella, bring them to us."

At that moment, Hermione's heart and lungs constricted and her brain struggled to function. Surely he could not have... he just couldn't... they had not done anything...

She could not suppress the cry of pain as MacNair and Bellatrix brought forth the struggling, bound prisoners.

"No," she whispered. "No... please. Please, don't do this. They didn't... don't bring them into this... I'll do anything..."

Voldemort stroked Hermione's cheek tenderly. "You wouldn't begrudge them their bit of fun now, would you?"

Hermione threw herself at Voldemort's feet. She did not care how low she put herself. Tears made her face glistened, and she found it very difficult to breathe.

"Please, my lord, master, god, I don't care, just don't hurt them," she pleaded.

"Pity you don't have more parents," Voldemort said. "I could get used to this."

"Not them, take me..."

"It's obviously not enough that I have to threaten you with everything under the moon if you're wearing Miss Bones' bracelet."

Hermione clutched at the chain. "This isn't about the bracelet," she said, swallowing and choking on her fear.

"No," Voldemort agreed. "It's about your place."

Lucius Malfoy was the first to step forward, holding his son's shoulder. They glanced at each other through the mask before pulling back their hands and landing a blow on Mr. and Mrs. Granger's faces. Hermione screamed and lunged herself at her parents. Voldemort grabbed her arm, and, with a strength Hermione never could have guessed, pulled her back. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, trapping her arms and holding her tight.

"You said once," he whispered in her ear, "that you wanted to watch me squirm." Hermione struggled against him, but she could not break free. His voice seemed to echo in her head.

"Now, it's my turn."

Her parents were gagged, but it was clear that they were shouting her name.

"Mum, Dad, please..." Hermione cried. She writhed, her face twisted in a terrible, indescribable pain. Her chest was being ripped apart by demon claws, thrusting in, slashing and splitting.

"Kill them," Voldemort said to his Death Eaters. "Slowly."

The first curse, the Backbone Curse that left the victim crippled but not painless, was cast by Lisa Turpin, and all too soon the air glittered harshly with the spells of the Death Eaters.

"No!" Hermione screamed. She bit, she hit, she squeezed, she kicked, but Voldemort did not let her go. She clutched at the Dark Lord's robes and ripped at the fabric, clawed at the skin, but Voldemort managed to avoid most of her attempts. The clearing was filled with the shouts of curses, Hermione's screams, the Grangers' screams--even through the gags--and Voldemort's laughter that mingled with that of the Death Eaters.

Finally, Voldemort cried, "Enough!"

The Death Eaters stopped.

"Hold her," he ordered Crabbe and Goyle. They took her by the arms and gripped her like vises.

Voldemort walked calmly to the trembling bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Mr. Granger was collapsed, his mouth to the ground where he retched blood. His eyes were closed, but pus seeped down his nose. His fingers had sprouted claws, his back was hunched almost horizontal, and the stump of a leg had been cauterized. His heart had been Engorged and now stuck out his chest like a tumor, and his skin peeled away like rotted fruit to accommodate the enlarged organ as it struggled to pump blood like it always had.

Mrs. Granger was no better. Avery had raped her from behind while Nott took her from the front. Bellatrix was responsible for some of the more extensive curses. Mrs. Granger's eyes were wide and blind. Her tongue had a chunk torn from it and eaten while the rest of the body sported neat, aligned holes through which her blood slowly oozed out.

Voldemort dipped his fingers into the pools of blood surrounding both Muggles. He held his bloodstained hands to the light, then returned to Hermione.

"Hold her tightly," Voldemort said. Crabbe and Goyle braced her.

Voldemort took his bloody fingers and held them in front of Hermione lips before plunging them into her mouth, making her gag, forcing her to swallow. Hermione bit down by instinct, and Voldemort's blood joined her parents' down her throat. Voldemort eased his fingers out from their plundering. Then he reached for his wand.

With a few deft flicks, the Grangers were dead.

Hermione strained one last time, then fell limp, depending on Crabbe and Goyle to keep her upright. Restraint had left her long ago. She did not care who heard her; she wailed, a moan that centered in a place where she never imagined she would be lost in. The faces of her parents... drowning in blood, blood that stained her mouth, her lips, blood that the Dark Lord was smearing on her shift to clean his hands.

Suddenly, he pointed the wand at her. "Signa mortuto."

Hermione's cries caught as the Dark Mark appeared on her arm. Hermione stared at the tattoo with mounting horror on top of the pain.

"Now, if you ever leave, escape, or I set you free," Voldemort said, "who do you think is going to take you in?"

Hermione's moans grew softer as they centered more and more inward.

"Let her go," Voldemort said. Crabbe and Goyle obeyed their master. Hermione fell forward, her face buried in her arms. Her legs twitched. Voldemort knelt down and stroked her hair gently with the same fingers he had thrust in her mouth. Hermione's head snapped up, and, snarling, she lunged at him, fists beating him. The Death Eaters moved in as one, but Voldemort held up a hand while fending off Hermione with the other. Finally, she stopped, with no warning at all. Just stopped. Voldemort held her wrists as a precaution.

"Lucius," said.

"Yes, my lord," Lucius replied.

Voldemort beckoned to him, the lifted Hermione's chin so that the Death Eater could see her face.

"This," Voldemort said, "is how I wanted her eyes when you gave her to me."

They were empty.

***

Severus Snape stormed into the Headmaster's office in a towering rage.

All the Order members had assembled; at least, all who could come on such short notice. Harry, Ron, and Ginny, who had been allowed as an honorary member because of her experiences with Tom Riddle, sat in front of the hearth fire, clad only in their pajamas. Lupin, Tonks, and Moody sat in the armchairs while the Weasleys stood somewhere between the two, pacing. Dumbledore reclined in the chair behind his desk, brooding with his eyes focused somewhere in the distance. Even the portraits were silent. But everyone jumped at Snape's fiery entrance.

"The bitch," he shouted. "That bitch really has joined them! I saw her, and she was practically screwing Wormtail and Lucius right in front of everyone, she even gave Voldemort a kiss, and she dared to call me the traitor!"

Harry and Ron gaped. Ginny only bowed her head in resignation.

Lupin stammered. "But... no, Hermione's too smart for that. She wouldn't..."

"She damn well did, sticking her tongue down their throats, sticking her head under their robes...!"

"Hermione?" Mr. Weasley said, nonplussed. "I thought we had established she had been kidnapped, that they only wanted us to think she had..."

"The Dark Lord obviously thought that candor would have the best result!" Snape interrupted. "The Dark Lord Summoned me to flaunt that bloody bitch to my face--he was throwing her at us! He knew our suspicions and slapped the truth at us." Snape suddenly let loose a string of curses that no parent would allow their children to even think.

Dumbledore stood quietly, providing a grounding for Snape's uncharacteristically unrestrained fury. "Severus," he said. It was all he needed to say. Snape stilled, though he was panting like a winded rhinoceros, and there was a touch of color to his pale cheeks.

"I want you to tell me exactly what happened, exactly what you saw, and exactly what you heard. I want you to relax and set aside your present emotions, which I know you can do." Dumbledore looked at Snape over his half-moon glasses, letting his piercing blue stare pull the Potions Master back to his original persona. "Do you think you can give me that?"

Snape took a deep breath, let it out, then nodded.

Dumbledore sat down, and Snape began, starting from when he had left Dumbledore after telling the Headmaster he had been Summoned. After Snape concluded his tale, Dumbledore, steepled his fingers and stared into the fire.

"It's a spell, Severus," Dumbledore said finally. "A form of Imperius. I am not surprised that Voldemort's experimenting in the Unforgivables."

"What makes you so sure, Headmaster?" Snape asked, clenching his teeth.

"For one thing, the entire set-up seems too conveniently staged for your benefit. You are here and basically unharmed. From how you described her appearance, I don't think Hermione's been treated well, especially if she is supposed to be a Death Eater recruit."

"And another reason?" Moody growled.

"Hermione's parents have been taken," Dumbledore replied.

Harry brought himself to his senses. "What?"

"There was a Dark Mark floating over their house earlier this evening. Mundungus was the one who noticed the cloaked figures, and he notified Kingsley." Dumbledore removed his glasses and began polishing them. "Ever since Hermione disappeared, I've been expecting something like this, so I put a watch on the Grangers' house. Kingsley searched the house. There were signs of struggle but no bodies. And I don't think that at this stage, Hermione would be willing to sacrifice her parents--and Mundungus did not see a cloaked figure of Hermione's stature."

"But the possibility's there," Ginny said.

"Yes," Dumbledore said solemnly, "but we are not positive on either case. And there is far more evidence of Hermione's imprisonment rather than Voldemort's willing servant. We still must continue to hope."