His Mistress

-- CHAPTER EIGHT --

The Second Female Death Eater

On Monday, Hermione arrived at number twelve Grimmauld Place early for the scheduled Order meeting. She now had a mission; she knew she had to gather as much information as possible, because the more she would be able to tell Lord Voldemort on their first encounter, the more chances she had of getting into his and the Death Eaters' good graces, and first impressions were capital in such occasions.

The idea of spying on a large group of oblivious people made her feel oddly excited. She felt an unhealthy jubilation at the thought that all their secret plans would soon be known by those they plotted against, and the fact that she would be the one to leak the information gave her a sense of triumph. Nevertheless, she had to be excessively cautious from now on. A wrong word, an inappropriate expression and they would become suspicious of her ... but she would not screw up. She took this mission more seriously than she had ever taken anything in her life, and being Hermione Granger, that was saying a lot.

She remembered Harry telling her about Occlumency, many years ago, and knew why she had to be particularly careful. She would look neither Dumbledore nor Snape in the eyes; she considered it the safest course of action. She could not risk them glimpsing into her mind and accidentally discovering her loyalty no longer lay with the Light side.

Their trust in her was what made her so useful to Voldemort; Lucius had told her so. And she was going to retain that trust, the trust which would be their undoing. The idea of being a spy, a camouflaged enemy in their midst made her nervous, but she knew rationally that it wasn't as difficult a role as it sounded. After all, Peter Pettigrew, who was a mediocre wizard without much intellect, had done it - and no one, not even Dumbledore, had discovered his secret until many years later. And Snape was playing a much more dangerous game with Voldemort; at least the Light side would not kill her if her treason was ever to be discovered. Azkaban didn't scare her much, because Voldemort would get her out in no time, but she strongly preferred if it never came to that. She would just have to be careful.

All these thoughts were swirling around in Hermione's head as she made her way towards a door at the far end of the hall.

So that's what I am now, mused Hermione as she went through the door, down a flight of narrow stone steps and through another door leading into the basement kitchen where the Order meetings took place. That's what I am: a spy. She imagined a sheet of parchment bearing the official Ministry seal, just like her Auror license, but with these words: Name: Hermione Granger. Profession: Spy. A chuckle of amusement escaped her throat at the idea.

Forcing her face into a neutral expression, Hermione took a deep breath and entered the long, gloomy room with stone walls and a large fireplace at the far end; it was packed with witches and wizards. Seated around a long wooden table, they were talking in hushed voices buzzing with interest and excitement.

Whatever they found so exciting about fighting Voldemort, aside from the risk of getting themselves killed at any moment, Hermione had always failed to understand.

She surveyed the people in the room, recognizing Mr and Mrs Weasley along with their oldest sons Bill and Charlie all sitting closely together. At the end of the table, Hermione's fellow Aurors Tonks and Shacklebolt appeared to be having a heated discussion with Mad-Eye Moody. Also clustered around the table were Lupin, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore (who had long since recovered from his experience with the Imperius curse as well as the short sojourn in Azkaban that had followed it), and many, many others from the original Order of the Phoenix (the so-called senior members); as well as many of Hermione's former Hogwarts classmates: Neville, Ginny, Luna, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot and most of the remaining members of Dumbledore's Army, the group Hermione had helped create, who had joined the Order upon graduating from Hogwarts. And of course, Ron and Harry, seated at the far end of the table with their heads together, whispering quietly. But wait a moment -

Harry? What was he doing here? He was supposed to be at the trail where he had been called to testify! Or perhaps he had gotten dispensed from his role of witness ... perhaps he had convinced Fudge to call in another one of the Aurors who had been present at the Diagon Alley fiasco, after all, they had all seen the same thing (except Hermione, but no one knew that).

For the first time ever, Hermione decided not to sit between Harry and Ron. Staying as far as possible from her former best friends, she chose the empty chair between her colleague Tonks (whose hair was currently a bright red colour that reminded of blood), and Hestia Jones, a friendly young witch with pink cheeks and black hair. Aside from a brief greeting to the people around her, Hermione, looking rather distracted, spoke to no one.

The last to arrive were the members who resided at Hogwarts; notably Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid (who waved to Hermione in a warm, friendly greeting) and, finally, Snape. As the deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts took a seat on Dumbledore's right side, and the spy took his place on the Headmaster's left, everyone fell silent and the meeting officially began.

Dumbledore stood up. "Good morning, and welcome to this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix," the old wizard started in a quiet but clear voice, his blue eyes twinkling as they went around the room, looking at each member in turn. Hermione did not meet his gaze, deliberately looking directly over Dumbledore's shoulder. "Severus," said the old wizard, turning to Snape, "have there been any news concerning Vol-" many of the witches and wizards in the room shuddered and winced at the name, "-demort's activities and intentions as of lately?"

Go on, make your report, thought Hermione carelessly, as it will be your last.

"I have some fascinating news," started Snape with the customary sneer on his face. "For instance, the Dark Lord intends to send a group of Death Eaters to attack the house of Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and to kill everyone inside it. The attack will take place on Friday at nine o'clock in the evening."

Many people gasped. Susan Bones, now a Ministry official herself, paled. "You-Know-Who is after my auntie? But why?" she asked.

"Madam Bones has sent many of his Death Eaters to Azkaban," answered Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, slow voice. "You-Know-Who's goal is to destabilize the Ministry, and so far, your aunt has been a major obstacle."

Susan looked positively terrified.

"Kingsley is right," declared Dumbledore gravely, "and this is troubling news indeed. Amelia would the most likely candidate as the next Minister for Magic, if anything were to happen to Fudge. Voldemort's decision to remove her from the spot means he is paving the path for taking on the Ministry ... in the near future."

"We have to do something," declared Harry. There were nods and sounds of agreement.

Hermione did not know what possessed her to speak, but before she realised it, she had leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and declared in Harry's direction:

"You may possess a hopeless heroic streak, Harry, but really, you shouldn't expect the same from the rest of us. Some people, unlike you, actually value their lives."

After that statement, heads turned in Hermione's direction, staring at her with surprise, confusion, disbelief, disappointment ... the latter was the case for Dumbledore, whose eyes she felt fixed on her with an unusual intensity. Hermione, however, did not look at the Headmaster. Her eyes were fixed solely on Harry, who was no Legilimens.

Oops, Hermione was thinking, I should work on my self-control. But one sentence of doubt will not jeopardize my position. I do have the right to express myself sometimes, but I have to watch what I say. I might accidentally reveal something I shouldn't.

So far, Harry had avoided speaking to Hermione after their fight. Now, however, he seemed to have forgotten about his resolution not to talk to her, and he answered fervently:

"But there are things worth dying for, Hermione, don't you understand? To risk you life to save others ... it's an honour! You're an Auror, you should know ... that's what the Order's here for."

Perhaps Harry was unaware that he was saying the exact same words Sirius had spoken mere months before his death. But Hermione did remember, and she wondered curiously, is history repeating?

Aloud, however, Hermione continued her stand. "So go if you are so eager to die, Harry. I, however, am not. I mean, what if Voldemort will be there?"

Just as Harry opened his mouth to reply, Dumbledore finally decided to intervene, seeing as the discussion between the two best friends was becoming heated.

"Harry, Hermione, calm down. No one is forcing you to participate in the intervention if you do not want to. As for this issue, I believe a vote is in order."

"Those in favour of interceding to counter the planned attack on the home of Amelia Bones?" demanded Dumbledore quietly but clearly.

Hermione's hand stayed firmly on the table. As she had expected, there were many hands in the air, more than half ... Hermione tried to see if someone other than herself had not raised their hand as well, but before she could, Dumbledore had said, "And those against the intervention?"

Hermione raised her hand; she was the only of the few to do so.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "You are to arrive at Amelia Bones' house at a quarter to nine, Friday night. Are there any questions so far?" People made sounds of negation.

"Here," said Dumbledore, conjuring a scroll of parchment and unrolling it on the table, revealing what looked like the plan of a building. "This is the plan of Amelia's house. There are two exits -" the people around the table leaned over to see more clearly, and Dumbledore continued, "and all the rooms are on the first floor, except the kitchen and the fireplace that are located in the basement. Amelia will undoubtedly be in her study working on one of the prospective law projects when the Death Eaters arrive. It would be best if we get there before them and wait for them."

The people around the table nodded in agreement.

"Which door will they come through?" asked Tonks.

"Unfortunately, we don't know, Miss Tonks," said Dumbledore, "which brings us to the next stage. You will divide in three groups, one of which will arrive by the front door, the second by the back one, and the third by Floo. The three groups are to arrive at a quarter to nine. Is that clear?" As those present nodded, Dumbledore turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger? May we count on your presence?"

"I'll be there," she said simply. Yes, she would be there... but there would be no need for the intervention, as there would be no attack. Surely Voldemort would change his plans when he would find out that the Order had been informed.

Dumbledore stood up. "Great. Well, this is it. Meeting over. Good-day to you all."

-

After the Order meeting and a tiring day of work at the Ministry, Hermione had arrived home only to find a sealed envelope on her dinner table, addressed to her in the elegant handwriting she had grown to recognise. The message was short and brief enough to ensure that if someone else were to read it, they would not be able to guess what it was about.

Antarès-

Rencontre ce soir. Viendrai vous chercher. Soyez prête à huit heures.

Altair

Hermione had figured it out without any difficulty. Meeting tonight - well, there was only one kind of meeting he could mean, and that was a Death Eater meeting. The second sentence meant that he was going to come after her - that is, she had to expect a home visit. And the sense of be ready at eight o'clock, really, there was no ambiguity in it. Hermione had promptly incinerated the message with a flick of her wand. She had memorised the indications, and it wasn't safe to have such things lying around, even if it was in a foreign language.

And that was why Hermione was currently standing indecisively in her lounge, throwing distracted glances around her. She was anxious. More anxious than she could ever remember feeling in her life. She sat down on a sofa, only to jump up a dozen seconds later. She could not keep still. Finally, she started pacing the length of the room in an attempt to calm her nerves. She could not face her future Master and comrades in such a state. She had to be calm and cold-headed when she would meet Lord Voldemort.

This was it; a new phase of her life was about to begin, finally. Hermione could hardly wait. Time seemed to pass with an intolerable slowness as Hermione thought of everything that awaited her on the 'other side'.

Hermione was startled out of her reverie by the distinct sound of Apparition, only to see a hooded and masked wizard appear in the room. With Auror reflexes, she automatically reached for her wand ...

"Good evening, Hermione," a very familiar drawling voice spoke from behind the black mask. "Not going to curse me, are you?" he remarked as his eyes fell upon the wand in her hand.

Hermione promptly lowered the wand and walked forward to greet the grey-eyed Death Eater.

"I couldn't help it, Lucius," said Hermione apologetically, placing her wand back into her pocket. "That was the typical Auror's reaction to the sudden appearance of a so ... darkly-dressed person in their home."

"Obviously. Now," he said, giving her a bundle of black fabric she had not noticed him holding, "put that on quickly. The Dark Lord does not like to wait."

Hermione unwrapped the bundle, revealing heavy black robes and a black mask identical to those Lucius was wearing. The robes were of a supple, shimmering material, and as Hermione quickly pulled them over her head, the black cloth was long enough to touch the ground below her feet; it fit perfectly and felt comfortable, not constricting her movements like normal clothes did.

"Black is a good colour on you; it makes your fine complexion stand out," Lucius commented appraisingly as he picked up the mask, placed it on her face and secured the clasp behind her head; then he pulled the hood up over her head, tucking her voluminous brown hair inside.

Then he stared at her.

The sight of her dressed as a Death Eater sent a shiver of thrill down his spine; this was the ultimate triumph for him, the proof of his power and influence. He had achieved the impossible; he had convinced an Auror, a friend of Potter, to join the Dark side ... He wanted to take her right there and then, but he held his desire. There was no time; the Dark Lord was waiting, and he would not be pleased if they were late ... No matter, he would wait until later that night.

Hermione shivered. Lucius was staring at her, and there was a feral, predatory gleam in his eyes ... the cold grey eyes glinting through slits in a black mask, watching her with a most creepy look ... just like that day in the Department of Mysteries, where he had scared her nearly to death. "Lucius," she said quietly, "how do I look in this outfit?"

His voice was somewhat husky when he spoke. "I daresay these clothes look much more appealing on you compared to the livery you Aurors wear - plus the followers will not be able to guess at your identity; the Dark Lord alone will know who you are."

Hermione had expected the mask would limit her field of vision; however it was not so. Through the slit-shaped eyeholes, she could see the room as though she wasn't wearing a mask at all; it was obviously charmed to fit perfectly without obscuring her vision.

She slipped her wand into a pocket of her new robes.

"Ready?" Lucius asked. At Hermione's nod, he explained. "I cannot inform you of the Dark Lord's location as I am not aware of it myself, so I'll simply Apparate you there."

He wrapped an arm around her waist. There was a loud crack and Hermione was whisked away by the familiar sensation of Apparition...

Before the room dissolved before her eyes, Hermione caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. It was a decidedly troubling experience to see the image of a Death Eater reflected back at her.

-

They appeared in a dark, eerily silent clearing surrounded by woods. Hermione thought they were probably in the middle of a forest.

A tall, hooded figure with gleaming scarlet eyes, face pale as a skull, and facial features resembling those of a serpent stood in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by about four dozen wizards, hooded and masked in the same way she and Lucius were. The Death Eaters stood in a silent circle around the one who Hermione guessed to be Lord Voldemort. They appeared to have been waiting for them.

Lucius grabbed her arm and led her forward, into the middle of the circle, stopping right in front of Voldemort. He knelt down and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes, then he stood up and spoke to the Dark Lord in a low voice, so that the other Death Eaters did not hear him. "My Lord, this is the Auror Hermione Granger, who has expressed the desire to join you."

As Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Hermione, his expression was exultant. Meanwhile, Lucius quietly backed away and took his place in the circle.

Hermione remembered the instructions Lucius had given her just before leaving for the meeting: When we arrive, you are to kneel before the Dark Lord and stay in that position until he commands you to stand.

Kneeling in front of Voldemort, her head bowed in deference, Hermione waited.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Lord Voldemort. His voice was strangely high-pitched and cold like a blast of icy wind.

"Today is an auspicious occasion. We have a newcomer among us ... a newcomer who is going to be of immense value to our side...

"Yes," said Voldemort, his lipless mouth curling in a grin, as the eyes of the Death Eaters swivelled momentarily in Hermione's direction. "A prominent member of the Light side now pays allegiance to me ... we have had such useful recruits in the past; isn't that right, Rookwood?"

Voldemort turned to a figure who was standing a little stooped, and who jumped at being addressed directly by the leader.

Rookwood. The name stirred a recollection in Hermione's mind ... Algernon Rookwood had been an Unspeakable for the Ministry during Voldemort's first rise, all the while passing confidential information to Voldemort. To this day, Rookwood was considered as one of the most prominent traitors to the Light side (closely followed by Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch junior), because he had been the highest-ranking Ministry official to join the Dark side. The Unspeakables were regarded as the second most important part of the Ministry personnel ... after the Aurors. And today, Hermione was going to break the record. It was she who was going to hold the respectable role of being the Light's most notorious traitor.

"My Lord ... yes, my Lord," the one obviously named Rookwood mumbled shakily. It struck Hermione as odd how most of the Death Eaters appeared to be extremely afraid, downright terrified of their Master.

"And you, Wormtail?" asked Voldemort, turning to a short figure on Lucius' left.

"Yes, master," Hermione heard Peter Pettigrew's voice murmur uncertainly from under his mask.

"But this surpasses all my expectations," continued Voldemort, smiling sinisterly. "This new servant will contribute immensely to the advancement of the Dark Order by providing us with an ear directly into the core of our most pestilent, loathsome enemies ... the Aurors!"

At the end of that statement, the members of the circle stirred, as though of surprise, and some muttered in disbelief. An Auror had agreed to join them? This was an occasion unheard of in history ... sure, there had been Ministry officials turning to the Dark side, but never a Dark-wizard-catcher. If this was true, it was triumph assured for their side.

Voldemort then turned to Hermione. "I have been informed that you, an Auror of less-than-pure blood, wish to join me and to fight for my cause. Is this true?"

Lucius's words came back to her: Always address the Dark Lord as 'My Lord' or 'Master'. The Dark Lord does not react kindly to disrespect.

"It is, my Lord," answered Hermione with deference. Her voice trembled slightly as she looked up into the strangest eyes she had ever seen.

Hermione had known, from Harry's descriptions, what Voldemort looked like. Still, his eyes were indescribable. The irises a glowing, blood red colour, the pupils shaped as vertical slits, like a cat's ... those eyes didn't look human, as it was impossible to distinguish the smallest hint of emotion in them - there wasn't any - yet they were oddly captivating. It was as though the Dark Lord was staring right through her, reading the deepest folds of her mind. Legilimency, realised Hermione, remembering something Harry had mentioned years ago.

There were mutters of disbelief from the masked group. Some felt it was not safe enough to believe her, others could simply not believe their luck, as this was a huge triumph for their side. And of course, all were shocked the Dark Lord would accept someone who was not even a pure-blood into their midst. They also noticed the new recruit was a woman - her silhouette was decidedly female, and so was her voice - and it surprised them, because women never joined the Death Eaters. Bellatrix Lestrange was the only exception, and everyone knew she had only been admitted because the Dark Lord had a special 'interest' in her. That is to say, Bellatrix was not only the Dark Lord's favourite, but also his mistress. The other Death Eaters knew that, but no one dared challenge their Master's authority, not even Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix's husband.

At that moment, Bellatrix was staring at Hermione with a very distrustful and unfriendly look in her eye.

Lord Voldemort was looking intently into Hermione's eyes, as though trying to read her mind.

Hermione realised Voldemort was checking whether or not she really wanted to join him, or if she had perhaps been sent to infiltrate his ranks. As that was not the case, Hermione stared right back, her eyes frank and honest. She had nothing to hide. Her desire to join the Dark side was sincere, it wasn't like she had been sent by the Ministry to spy on Voldemort, was it? Yet Hermione was nervous, scared. She understood why Voldemort might have trouble believing in her loyalty to the Darkness. She was an Auror, a Muggle-born, a close friend of Harry Potter...

This scrutiny would decide her fate; whether she, a mere Muggle-born, would be accepted into the ranks of Voldemort's faithful Death Eaters ... or she would be killed. At that thought, she stared even harder into the gleaming red eyes, inviting the feared wizard to read her most secret thoughts, her darkest secrets, if that was what it took to convince him of her sincerity.

The seconds seemed interminably long for Hermione. In total silence, the circle of Death Eaters watched as slowly, very slowly, a slight smile graced the Dark Lord's face. Hermione, who had been concentrating on Voldemort's eyes, did not notice it, but Lucius Malfoy, who had been holding his breath, stifled a sigh of relief.

Voldemort finally broke the eye contact. "So be it," he announced to the Death Eaters surrounding them. Hermione did breathe a sigh of relief, and under her mask, she was beaming in pride. She had been accepted! She, who had not a drop of wizard blood in her veins, had been deemed worthy by Lord Voldemort himself to be part of his circle of most trusted followers!

The Death Eater on Lucius' right side stepped forward and spoke in a harsh female voice. Hermione recognized the witch as Bellatrix Lestrange, the only woman in the circle. "But Master ... how do we know she is truly loyal to us? She could be lying -"

"She is truthful; I can sense it in her mind. Remember, Bella, Lord Voldemort always knows." The Dark wizard's voice held a slightly menacing tone by the second sentence, which Bellatrix surely did not fail to notice, because she did not dare speak again.

Voldemort raised his wand and waved it in a series of motions necessary for the Conjuring spell. A sheet of parchment suddenly materialised in the air in front of Hermione.

Hermione glanced at Voldemort questioningly. "This is the Oath of Allegiance every Death Eater is required to recite at their induction into the Dark Order," he explained with a hint of indulgence.

Hermione reached forward and grasped the parchment in her hand. Calling forward her sharp, photographic memory, she read it so fast her eyes looked blurred, memorising as she went. She knew she could have just read it off the text, but she wanted to do better. She wanted to impress the Dark Lord.

Rolling up the parchment, she looked up at the Dark Lord and spoke in the solemn, grave voice she had only used twice before: upon her induction into the Order of the Phoenix, back when she was seventeen and barely out of Hogwarts; and to recite the Auror Oath at her graduation from the Academy, two years previously. The words were similar, all three being promises of loyalty and devotion. However, their meaning was not.

"I swear unwavering loyalty and true allegiance to Lord Voldemort -" Hermione paused briefly as several of the Death Eaters let out low hissing sounds. She supposed this had to be the only time Death Eaters ever pronounced their Master's name: upon their initiation. "- whom I will serve faithfully, in life and death, for all eternity, and devote my mind, body and soul towards ensuring the continued rise and triumph of the Dark Order. Impedio Oblitteranda Est!"

Impedio Oblitteranda Est. Latin for 'Obstacles are to be eliminated'. This had to be the Death Eaters' motto ... The more Hermione thought about it, the more it made sense. This seemed indeed to be the Dark side's philosophy. Obstacles exist to be removed ... nothing stands in our way.

As soon as Hermione had finished speaking the last word, the parchment she was holding in her palm disappeared into thin air.

The Dark Lord nodded, looking faintly impressed. "Lord Voldemort accepts your allegiance. Hold out your arm," he said in the same high, cold voice.

Which arm? the clever Hermione was thinking quickly, trying to figure out ... She had read somewhere about the sign Death Eaters had branded into their skin ... yes, she remembered now, in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, there was a description of the symbol used, a skull and a serpent entwined ... Hermione tried to recall the exact words, where the mark was located ... brusquely, a particular passage of the book surged from her memory.

Every Death Eater had the Dark Mark burnt into the skin of their left forearm. To the followers, it was a means of distinguishing each other, as they were often unaware of the identity of their fellows. It also acted as a combination of a Protean Charm and a mobile Apparition point, enabling the Leader to alert all his followers to his calling and allowing them to appear instantly at his side regardless of his location.

Hermione extended her left arm, rolled the sleeve of her robes up to the elbow. All fear dissipated, as did any hint of doubt she still had. From the way Voldemort now looked at her, she felt accepted, she felt welcome, and immensely honoured.

She did not recoil when the Dark Lord's pallid, unusually long-fingered hand seized hers, and she did not shiver in his ice-cold grasp. There was not a stir of disgust in her soul at being touched by the wizard who had caused so much pain to those she used to care about, the wizard who had cold-bloodedly murdered hundreds of people and ordered the extermination of thousands, the wizard she used to hate with all her soul. No, Hermione Granger only felt a shining pride, hardly daring believe what was happening. She had never thought, never expected ... her, a Muggle-born, to be given such a chance, such an exception ...

Needless to say, the ambitious Auror felt deeply flattered. At last, she had found the recognition she deserved, the acknowledgement she had strived for all her life. At last, she had been found worthy, special.

Voldemort pulled out his wand and held the tip to the skin of her inner forearm. And then he hissed a spell. "Morsmordre!"

Hermione felt as though a red-hot iron was pressed to her skin; fire was burning her flesh. A hiss of pain escaped her, and tears of agony formed in her eyes as white-hot pain obscured her vision ... Hermione clenched her teeth, no, she wouldn't scream, she did not want the Death Eaters to conclude she was weak ...

She had been expecting the pain, as she had known the Dark Mark was literally burnt into the skin, but that did not make it hurt less.

Finally, after about thirty seconds, the pain receded. Her breathing harsh and ragged, Hermione raised her head and stared dazedly at the sign that had appeared on her arm. Shaped like a skull with a serpent protruding, tongue-like, from its mouth, it was painted on her skin in a brilliant crimson colour that reminded her of the Auror uniform. She touched the mark cautiously, as though to make sure it was really there.

From now on, whenever she and the other Aurors did battle, she would have to remember not to roll up her sleeves.

"Welcome to the Dark Order," said the high, cold voice of her new Master. "You are now officially a Death Eater. Hence, we are united under the Dark Mark ... you are part of the family. The Mark will signal to the followers that you are one of them ... remember, the Dark Mark never lies. When you feel my call - your Mark will burn and become black - you are to don appropriate attire, then Disapparate and Apparate instantly at my side. The Mark will provide the directions ..."

Hermione looked up at the Dark Lord, and her gaze, attached to the scarlet eyes of the most feared wizard on earth, portrayed a fervent admiration. She was enthralled by his power. She would serve him loyally, gladly, she would be devoted to this side, which accepted her and valued her ... she felt a huge gratitude towards Voldemort for giving her this chance.

"Oh, thank you, my Lord!" she whispered.

She crawled forward on her knees and kissed the hem of the Dark Lord's robes, exactly like she had seen Lucius do earlier.

"Stand up," said Voldemort, looking pleased. "Your place is over there," he instructed, pointing a finger between Pettigrew and Lucius, who both moved apart, widening the circle, leaving a gap large enough for one person.

Hermione stood up and walked into the designated space.

Voldemort smiled. The girl was a very valuable recruit. A spy among the Aurors (it wasn't every day a Dark-wizard-catcher joined him; there had been Ministry employees supporting him, but never Aurors. In fact, she was the first Auror ever to join the Dark side), very close to Harry Potter, and not one they would ever suspect - who in their right mind would suspect a Mudblood of being a Death Eater?

Do it, said a voice in Hermione's head. Tell him. He is your Master now; you have to tell him all you know.

Hermione stepped forward and spoke to Voldemort.

"My Lord, I assume you have heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Hermione thought she heard a sharp intake of breath from one of the Death Eaters.

"The Order of the Phoenix?" repeated Voldemort thoughtfully. "You are talking about the secret society led by Dumbledore during my first rise to power, I presume ..."

Hermione was astonished. So Voldemort wasn't even aware the Order had been called together again, an hour after his return, and had been actively working against him ever since? No wonder, during the Dark Lord's first rise to power, the Death Eaters had been eliminating the Order members one by one, but it was not so this time, because he didn't even know who they were. Last time, there had been a spy among the Order, a spy who had undoubtedly delivered Voldemort a list of the Order members and their families, probably along with their addresses. This time, however, Pettigrew wasn't there to report to his Master, and no one had taken his place ...

She wondered briefly how Snape managed to hide so much from the Dark Lord. No matter, she would make sure his disloyalty was revealed, and she would provide Voldemort with all the knowledge she possessed that could be of use to their side.

"Tell me everything you know about this Order," commanded the Dark Lord.

And Hermione proceeded to tell everything: the fact that the Order was constantly working to stop the Death Eaters from accomplishing their plans, her own involvement in the secret society, and their constants efforts to protect Harry Potter. To the attentive Dark Lord and the silent circle of Death Eaters, she revealed that the Order held weekly meetings at a wizarding house somewhere in London, and explained she could not give the precise location because it was protected by a Fidelius Charm with Dumbledore being the Secret-Keeper.

At a prompting from her Master, who had been listening with wide eyes and a triumphant, excited expression, she named all the members of the Order, all but one. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see one of the Death Eaters shuffling restlessly. The Death Eater who stood on Pettigrew's other side ... behind her mask, Hermione grinned in anticipation. Then, she revealed the most important piece of information:

"My Lord, I feel it is my duty to warn you: Dumbledore is aware of your plan to go after the remaining Bones on Friday night, and intends to send the Order of the Phoenix to interfere."

Voldemort was taken aback. How could they know? It looked like there was a leak of information, but it could not be one of his Death Eaters informing them, he would know ... Lord Voldemort always knows. Unless... unless one of his followers was an Occlumens, but that was impossible. Occlumency skills were a very rare talent, and required a lot of power - power none of his Death Eaters possessed, as far as he knew. Then how? The fact remained that Dumbledore knew his plans. The only people to whom the Dark Lord had revealed those plans were the 46 Death Eaters of the inner circle.

The Dark Lord's red eyes were narrowed in rage as he looked around at the masked faces.

"Is that so?" he hissed, his voice pulsing with anger. Hermione thanked Merlin that anger was not directed at her. "Is that true?" he repeated in a menacing whisper, his power palpable like a cloud around him as his eyes went from one cowering Death Eater to the next, glancing at each of the circle. "How is it possible, when no one but my loyal Death Eaters possessed that knowledge? How could my plans reach Dumbledore and his crowd, when I specifically took measures to insure the strictest secrecy? Unless there is a traitor in my inner circle?" With each sentence, Voldemort's voice grew more and more and the last one was pronounced in a deathly soft whisper. After that suggestion, the silence was complete.

Once again, Hermione stepped forward, breaking the circle, and took a step in Voldemort's direction. In a small, cautious voice, fearing he might take out his anger on her, she continued her revelations.

"Master ... I see it is news to you, then, my Lord, that one of your Death Eaters - one currently present in this circle, might I add - is Dumbledore's major informant?"

Hermione paused as the Death Eaters stirred uneasily; she saw them glance fearfully at each other through their masks. One stood frozen, however.

"This traitor has been hiding his true allegiances from you for years, thanks to the Occlumency skills he has achieved during personal training with Dumbledore, and is pretending to be loyal to you, while actually working towards the demise of the Dark Order," she finished. All of this had been said in a rushed voice, barely stopping to breathe.

Voldemort had never looked more furious, or more menacing. His eyes were glowing red slits as he slowly paced up and down within the circle, looking at all of his Death Eaters in turn.

"Which one of you has been reporting our every move to the enemy?" His voice was shaking with rage. "Which one of you dares betray Lord Voldemort?" he boomed, resembling a snake preparing to attack.

No one dared move; no one dared breathe. Then the newest Death Eater broke the silence again. "My Lord... Master, I know who the traitor is."

Voldemort was mildly surprised. So Dumbledore was even more of a fool than he thought. The eccentric Headmaster was crazy. If the fifty or so members of his secret society knew the identity of their informant, it was inevitable it would, one day, reach the enemy - or did the old fool trust them all so much he had never considered the possibility of one of them defecting from his Cause? The Dark Lord wasn't foolish enough to let his followers know the identity of his spies, contrarily to the Muggle-lover.

The Death Eaters shifted uneasily at that statement. Voldemort looked extremely interested. He turned to his new recruit. "Really? Pray tell, who is it, then?"

Hermione did not really want to do this, she was aware she was signing the Order's death warrant, but she had no choice. If she didn't, Dumbledore would know there was a spy in the Order by tomorrow morning. She could not afford them to be suspicious of her so soon, and in order to preserve her position as a secret agent, she had no choice but to do this.

"His name is Severus Snape, my Lord." To her credit, Hermione's voice did not shake.

Said traitor managed to hold his composure, giving no visible indication of the terror he felt. However, under his mask, the expression on his face was one of mingled surprise, horror and fear. Oh, bloody hell, was the main thought on his mind.

"I spy for the Dark Lord!" Snape said loudly.

"No you don't! You are a double agent!" Hermione shot back more loudly still.

That shut him up ... at least for the moment.

Snape was staring at Hermione with an unreadable look in his black eyes, although she could guess that behind the façade, his mind was working frantically. Did she really know? Who was she? Was there any way to warn the Order? Would he get out of this alive?

Oh, whom was she kidding? Hermione had no doubt Snape knew who she was; it wasn't so difficult to figure out. A woman, an Auror, not a pure-blood, and a member of the Order ... who else fit that description? Tonks? Hermione's voice alone should have been enough to give away her identity.

He had to get out of this alive, he had to warn the Order - or this would be the end of the Light side.

Snape spoke in the low, sneering voice Hermione knew all too well. "My Lord, I am sure there is a misunderstanding. This ... witch probably believes in the act I have managed to convince the old fool with ... Dumbledore thinks I am his spy, but you know, my Lord, that I am your loyal servant!"

Voldemort stood still for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Are you sure of your facts?" he demanded of Hermione.

"Absolutely certain, my Lord," replied Hermione. She was relieved to hear her voice did not shake.

"But my Lord -" there was a hint of panic in Snape's voice now, "surely you don't believe the lies this girl is spewing - I have always been loyal to you, and only to you -"

In her mind, Hermione heard echoes of the same voice, years ago, memories played out before her eyes ...

That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.

KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL! DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!

Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!

I see no difference.

Hatred rose in Hermione, hatred such as she had never felt before. The emotion was so strong she was quite sure ordinary people were not capable of experiencing it. Loathing. Rage. And the thirst for vengeance, so strong it was overwhelming. This was something only Death Eaters felt, and they acted upon it when they had the chance. Her chance was now.

Her wand was out in a second, and the word left her tongue before her mind even caught up with it. "Crucio!"

Snape collapsed on the ground, writhing and shrieking. Hermione was surprised the curse even worked at all. The Unforgivables were part of the Auror training curriculum, but Hermione had only practiced on spiders. This was the first time she cast an Unforgivable Curse on a human, and she had not expected to get it right the first time. But she could not deny she felt some pride, as well as a strange thrill at her success.

After a few moments, Hermione lowered her wand. The traitor lay upon the ground, gasping for breath.

"See you in Hell, turncoat," Hermione spat contemptuously at him. Then she glanced at Voldemort apprehensively. Was he displeased with her outburst?

But Lord Voldemort was laughing, a cold, empty laugh with no hint of happiness in it. "I see what you meant now, Lucius, when you told me this woman was inherently Dark. For it takes a rare talent to successfully cast the Cruciatus curse on the first try ... a very rare talent."

Bellatrix Lestrange, who had been looking at Hermione rather sceptically, now stared at her with approbation and a hint of wonder. Not even Bellatrix herself, who had been taught personally by the Dark Lord, had managed to cast the Cruciatus curse correctly - and to hold it for almost a minute - the first time she tried. This girl had an unusual aptitude for the Dark Arts and that was enough to gain Bellatrix Lestrange's respect.

Snape, however, had stood up shakily and made a desperate last attempt. "My Lord, please! Master, I would die rather than betray your Lordship -"

"Silence!" interrupted Voldemort, and his voice held barely-restrained rage as he spoke. "Severus, I have nothing more to say to you. You have earned the honour of being killed personally by Lord Voldemort. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

And in the flash of green light that followed, the Dark side's most successful traitor ceased to exist, although not before throwing a look of absolute horror upon the new Death Eater who was watching, her head held high, a glint of triumph and cruel satisfaction in her brown eyes. This was her vengeance for all the times he had made her cry.

In the utter silence that followed, the Dark Lord spoke. "You all bear witness, my Death Eaters, to what happens to those who are foolish enough to betray Lord Voldemort."

Here, the Dark Lord aimed his wand at the corpse. "Evanesco!"

The body vanished.

"Now that our ranks have been cleansed of treacherous filth, there are slight modifications to be made to our plan. The assault on the home of Amelia Bones will take place a day early, on Thursday instead of Friday. The time remains the same."

"You, my spy," said Voldemort, approaching Hermione where she stood in the circle, and halting before her, "are not to participate in any of our offensive moves. You are dispensed from appearing at my call if doing so might compromise your position among the enemies. I expect you to report to me with all information you come across and which may be of use to us. You will send reports to me by owl, and for security reasons, you are to sign all messages not with your name, but with the adage of the Dark Order, Impedio Oblitteranda Est. Is this clear?"

"Yes, my Lord," answered Hermione.

Satisfied, Voldemort stepped back. "Death Eaters, you are dismissed for today," he said before vanishing without a sound. The Death Eaters followed suit by Apparating away, except for the other female Death Eater who had been glaring at Hermione at the beginning of the meeting.

She pulled off her hood and mask, revealing Bellatrix Lestrange's face. The woman's eyes were gleaming with the same ferocity, the same energetic zeal Hermione had seen in them in the Department of Mysteries, seven years earlier. However, her face no longer looked as gaunt, and she no longer resembled a walking skeleton. She had obviously been eating a great deal and had filled up a little, and although she was still very thin, her bones no longer stuck out in sharp angles. Her skin, however, was still that livid, greyish shade that proved she had spent years deprived of sunshine.

Through her heavily lidded eyes, the woman was looking at Hermione with a grudging esteem.

"Welcome among us, Auror," said Bellatrix in her usual harsh voice, sticking out her ashen hand in an offer of friendship.

Hermione suppressed the abhorrence she used to feel toward Bellatrix. This was the woman who had tortured Neville's parents into insanity, the one who had killed Sirius - but Hermione was not supposed to care. They were on the same side now, both Death Eaters, they were family ...

Hermione clasped the proffered hand. "Nice to meet you again, Mrs Lestrange," she said sincerely.

"Again?" demanded the older woman. "I do not remember ever knowing you."

"Yes, we have met before. Go seven years back ... you remember your trip to the Department of Mysteries, where you failed to retrieve a prophecy for your - our Lord?"

"If I remember?" shrieked Bellatrix, "I certainly remember! How could I forget how my Master was disappointed with me? How could I forget being thwarted by that ... by that boy! Potter came after me - after I killed my worthless cousin - even tried to use the Cruciatus curse on me!"

"Did he?" asked Hermione in shock. Harry had never told her about that. Sure, he had mastered the three Unforgivables with startling ease during their Auror training, but she could never have imagined Harry had attempted to cast that curse when he was fifteen!

"He didn't do it right - didn't mean it - he had obviously never used an Unforgivable curse before, did not know how to do it. Still, it hurt ... but only for a second."

Hermione did not know what to think of this newly revealed side of her former best friend. Recovering quickly, she went back to the subject.

"Well, then, perhaps you remember a bushy-haired girl among the team of children Ha- Potter brought with him? That was me."

It was Bellatrix' turn to be shocked. "You were a friend of Harry Potter?" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yes, I used to be a very close friend of Harry's, actually ... but no more, as you can see. Otherwise I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"Oh, this is fantastic!" Bellatrix exclaimed so suddenly Hermione jumped back a little. "You know Potter - he trusts you! So you'll help us defeat him, right?" she demanded, her breathing becoming shallow with excitement.

"Certainly, if that is what our Lord desires," replied Hermione. She would prefer if it wasn't her hand that held the wand that would kill her former best friend, but she would set a trap for Harry if she had to. She knew it was one of the reasons why Voldemort had accepted her into the fold.

"Great! We'll finally be rid of the infuriating boy - oh, Master is going to be so happy ..." A hint of pink coloured the woman's livid cheeks, and her eyes had suddenly acquired a strange, lively glint.

Hermione noticed Bellatrix still called Harry a boy, and she neglected to correct her, as Harry was certainly no longer a boy. Bellatrix was almost boiling with excitement, it was visible. Hermione gave the older woman an indulgent smile. The Dark witch definitely wasn't as insane as the rumours claimed, but her sojourn in Azkaban had made her a bit ... impatient. From what Hermione had heard of her, Mrs Lestrange had always been a woman of strong emotions, devoted to Voldemort body and soul - that was what the Light called 'fanaticism'. That, and her easily excitable personality, which reminded of a child who had not learnt self-control. Or perhaps she had unlearnt it in the boredom and anguish of Azkaban ...

In any case, Hermione understood Bellatrix, and she could not blame her. She even felt a tiny bit of pity for her.

Hermione and Bellatrix became somewhat friends, after that conversation. Being the only two women in the circle of Death Eaters, each had a particular respect for the other, and they understood each other rather well, despite the differences between them. Bellatrix had decided to overlook Hermione's non-wizard origins only because her Master had told her to do so, and her Master was always right. To Bellatrix, the Dark Lord was absolute authority. Hermione, on the other side, chose to distance herself from the people she had formerly considered as friends, and therefore, the 'crimes' Bellatrix had committed did not concern Hermione anymore. After all, I am one of them now, she told herself as she thanked Bellatrix for her offer to drop by at her house for a cup of tea.

-

Miles away, at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry Potter suddenly felt sick as a searing pain spread across his forehead. His scar was burning so violently it felt like someone had stabbed him in the head with a knife. And at the same time, Harry felt a peculiar sensation ... a feeling of happiness, of triumph. He did not know where he was, he did not even know who he was anymore. All he knew was this feeling of triumph and jubilation, and he was laughing ... laughing insanely, maniacally ...

He heard a distant voice calling his name ... "- Harry!"

"HARRY! HARRY!"

Harry opened his eyes, and realised that he had fallen off his chair and lay on the floor, his scar throbbing painfully. Ron was standing over him, looking very worried.

"What happened, Harry? Was it You-Know-Who again?"

"He's really happy," gasped Harry, sitting up shakily, taking deep breaths to repress his nausea. "Something really good has happened ... an accomplishment beyond his wildest dreams, that surpasses his wildest expectations ..." Harry was aware of speaking, but the words were not his own ... yet he knew they were true.

Ron stared at his best friend who was, once again, reading You-Know-Who's mind.

-

Upon arriving at the Wildrose Den, Hermione felt exhausted, after all the tension and emotions she had been through during the day, and wanted nothing more than to collapse on her comfortable four-poster bed and to sink into a deep sleep. Hence, she removed her clothes, hid the Death Eater garments under her bed - she would find a better place to keep them later - and put on the lavender-coloured nightdress she had been wearing every night ever since she had received it.

She glanced into the mirror. The silk nightdress looked very pretty on her, accentuating her curves nicely.

Hermione put out the lights and crawled under the covers, rubbing her left forearm distractedly as she thought about the day's events. I am a Death Eater. She could hardly believe this ...

Sleep eluded her that night, as Hermione tossed and turned, tormented by doubts and fears. Had she done the right thing? What if she got caught? What if -

There was a loud crack as someone Apparated directly into her bedroom. Hermione searched the nightstand for her wand ... she found it and aimed it at the dark figure approaching her bed.

For the first time, Hermione found out what Snape had meant when he had told Fudge about the Dark Mark being a means of distinguishing each other for the followers, and the significance of Voldemort's words: The Mark will signal to the followers that you are one of them. Hermione now knew it worked the other way around, too. For in that second, she felt a tingling sensation in her left forearm, and instinctively she knew she was in the presence of a fellow Death Eater. But she did not have time to think about it.

A hand seized her wrist, prying the wand away from her, and pinning her hands above her head. Hermione recognised the touch of her aggressive, controlling lover, and relaxed slightly. In fact, she was glad to see him, now more than ever ... if there was someone who could make her forget all her problems, it was he ...

"Now, now, was that any way to greet a guest, Hermione? Where are your manners?"

Lucius, it seemed, could not resist the chance to give her a fright, to have her as his trembling captive for a moment, as a reminder of the old days, not so long ago, when they were enemies, an Auror and a Death Eater ...

"And is this any way a civil guest would act?" she retorted, no longer feeling tired at all.

"I never could resist the opportunity to have a bit of fun, the Dark Lord understands this about me," he drawled.

The Dark Lord. Draco was always like, my father this and my father that, while Lucius always talked of the Dark Lord. As though the Dark Lord's opinion was the only one that mattered, as if Voldemort was absolute authority ...

"Now, really, why are you here?" demanded Hermione, slightly annoyed.

"Why, Hermione, can't a man visit his mistress to, er, wish her a good night?"

"Yes, I'm sure that's why you are here. To - ah, 'wish me a good night.' Really, Lucius ..."

"You are correct, that is not the only reason ... I knew this nightdress would look alluring on you," he said suddenly, before leaning down to kiss her. Hermione fell back on the duvet...