Only a second later did Narcissa burst into the room, lighting the lamps with a wave of her wand and making a straight line towards Hermione’s closet.

“Boys get dressed,” she commanded in a serious tone. “Lucius is waiting for you.”

Draco and Hermione jumped from the bed quickly. He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze before running off after Theo.

Hermione’s body immediately began to tremble as if her muscles were already anticipating the effects of the cruciatus curse. Breathing slowly, she tried to calm her nerves, focusing on the flickering of the flame closest to her. She wanted to ask Narcissa why the Dark Lord seemed to enjoy arriving in the middle of the night, but decided against it when she saw the pinched look on the older woman’s face as she floated the heavy, dark blue robes over to her.

Without being asked, Hermione stripped off her nightgown and donned the robes Narcissa had picked out. She was grateful these robes did not have as high of a neckline and instead cut a wide margin around her collarbones to expose the smallest bit of her shoulders and neck. The fabric was thick, similar to the ones she’d worn the last time and hung artfully off her frame. Similar long bell sleeves that would also cover up her trembling hands.

Narcissa did up the buttons with a twist of her wand as Hermione went to sit at the vanity as she had last time. She didn’t miss the pleased look that passed over Narcissa’s features as she did so. Hermione didn’t want to add to the stress Narcissa and the rest of them were under by succumbing to the panic as she had the first time.

“Go to your library while I do your hair,” Narcissa said softly.

Hermione did as she was told. Imagining the rows of books, the soft light shining in from the glass dome. She could even see the little dust motes that stirred in the air as she approached the shelf, lifting high on her tiptoes to reach the hidden text she’d placed on one of the uppermost shelves.

After the weeks of practicing both legilimency and occlumency it was a simple matter to place her fears inside, but leave out just enough as to not rouse suspicion – as Narcissa had taught her. When she was finished and had pressed the book back into its hiding spot, she found her trembling had subsided and her breathing evened out.

“Good,” Narcissa said, smoothing a flyaway. “Let’s go.”

They met Lucius, Draco, and Theo at the bottom of the stairs. All three were outfitted in black robes with the same closed expressions on their faces. Draco and Theo had also been more intensely trained on occlumency in the last few weeks as a way to help assist Hermione and she could see now the added benefits.

No one would approach the Dark Lord without their emotions in check.

As they made their way towards the drawing room Draco took her hand, running his thumb beneath her courting bracelet as he always did in times of stress and Hermione found it calmed her a bit as well. No matter how much she employed her occlumency, she could not shake the feeling she was about to step into a torture chamber.

Stopping in front of the heavy oak doors, Lucius took them by the shoulders – arranging them so that he and Narcissa entered first, followed by Draco, then Theo and Hermione side by side.

Draco gave her hand one last squeeze before stepping to where his father silently indicated and Theo nudged her shoulder encouragingly. The look in his green eyes made it clear that no matter what happened next, she was not alone.

Eyes trained on the floor, the doors opened with a groan as they entered. The same heavy dragging sound greeted them from the large snake that slithered around the perimeter of the room. The putrid stench of the Dark Lord hit Hermione the moment she stepped through the doors and she clenched her jaw to stifle a gag, her mouth watering with the effort.

As one, they dropped to a knee on the ornate rug in front of the throne.

“Lucius, such a treat to be welcomed by the whole family,” the Dark Lord hissed.

“We are honored to have you in our home, my lord,” Lucius answered.

In a far corner of her mind, Hermione noticed they were almost the same exact words Lucius had spoken to him the first time and wondered if this was more than a casual exchange – if there was some deeper meaning to the words.

“And what a pleasure it is to see young Draco and the Nott boy. I am pleased to see you have taken up the mantle to raise him despite his father’s… failures.”

Hermione saw Theo’s hand twitch from the corner of her eye, but did not move to comfort him for fear it may draw attention.

“Yes, my lord. Narcissa and I consider him one of our own,” Lucius responded smoothly.

“Good… Good…” the Dark Lord hissed. “Now enough with the pleasantries. Come forward, girl.”

Hermione heard the snap of bony fingers. She rose gracefully to her feet, grateful for the weeks of training for keeping her knees from quaking as they had the first time. As she stepped around the group she didn’t miss the quick look from Draco before he set his gaze once more on the ground. Neither, it seemed, did the Dark Lord.

“Ah young love ,” he sneered. “Such a… gift.”

She stepped to the edge of the small dais where the Dark Lord’s throne sat, her hands clasped in front of her demurely, but she kept her gaze trained on the ground. Sure that since she was still unproven, the mere invitation to step forward was not justification enough to look at him.

Tension permeated the air as if it were a seventh wizard in the room. The heavy body of the snake slithered over her feet and she suppressed a shiver.

“Hello, mudblood,” he greeted her.

This time, Hermione gave a small curtsey before replying.

“Hello, my lord.”

The small rasping chuckle that floated to her from the dais stoked hope within her.

So far so good.

“Narcissa,” he said. “How goes her legilimency?”

“Very well, my lord,” Narcissa responded from her place on the rug. “She has been successful in the first few stages. Depending on your task, I believe she will be able to accomplish it.”

The Dark Lord clicked his tongue in surprise and Hermione heard a shifting of robes as he leaned towards her.

“Come here, girl,” he commanded.

Hermione stepped closer until her toes touched the dais and she took shallow breaths through her mouth trying to stem the fear that fluttered inside her stomach at her close proximity to Voldemort.

“Look at me.”

Steeling herself, she looked directly into the glowing red slits of the Dark Lord’s eyes. From this distance, she could see how smooth his face was – very much like bone – and the strange pearlescent sheen to it in the firelight. Tampering down her fear, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

“Good,” he said, watching the display. “Now, show me what you have learned.”

For a moment she did nothing more than stare at him. He was asking her to penetrate his mind – his mind. Shock must have crossed her expression because he leaned forward and tapped a skeletal finger to her temple.

“I will not repeat myself,” he warned.

She didn’t hesitate then, sending the invisible line between them and taking her mental self to the edge of it. His mind felt… cold. Similar to what she imagined it would be like inside the mind of a dementor.

As she stepped through, she shivered in an obsidian, windowless chamber. The black floors and walls glittering in the circular blue orb hovering above her head. A movement beside her caught her attention and she turned to see a handsome boy, only a few years older than her, standing with a hand casually in the pocket of his dark dress robes. Thick black waves spilled over the boy’s pale face and curled around his dark blue eyes.

Gone was the snake-like visage, the slit of a nose, the ruby red eyes. Unfathomable that this boy was the same strange monster sitting in front of her outside of his mind. It surprised her that this was the form he chose

“Very good, Miss Granger,” Tom Riddle said in a singsong voice.

Pride swelled inside her at his praise and she assumed her mental form smiled as the boy in front of her appeared to mirror the expression. He extended a pale hand which her mental form took without hesitation.

“Come, you have proven yourself well enough.”

Hermione was pushed from his mind, gentler than she would have anticipated until she found her physical body again, her shins pressed to the dais, forehead resting on the Dark Lord’s knees. A shock passed through her as she felt the sharp tips of his fingers stroking her hair in the same manner she had seen him with his snake.

Though she was still uncomfortable to be so close to him, especially with the rotten stench that seemed to permeate his very being, seeing that boy inside his mind had lessened the fear of him somewhat. Humanized the Dark Lord in a way she could not quantify.

“You have done well, pet,” the Dark Lord said in a soft hiss, then lifted his gaze to the group behind her. “Draco, it appears you may keep your bride.”

His soft praise bolstered her further and she felt a small smile pull up the corners of her mouth, though no one could see it, angled as she was against his knees.

“Thank you… my lord,” Draco responded after a second’s hesitation.

With a gentle push he moved Hermione back until she rose to her feet, her eyes cast towards the floor as she took a step away from the dais and dropped again to one knee.

“Well, it seems there will be a use for you after all,” he hissed approvingly.

“I aim to please you, my lord,” Hermione answered; her eyes moving back to the mask in front of her.

He gave that same, strange smile exposing his sharp teeth but she assumed he meant this expression to be encouraging rather than terrifying. Nodding once in approval he sat back, settling against the dark throne.

“Ah but you have already pleased me, child. Now you must serve me.” His tone was dangerous and sharp as a knife.

“Of course, my lord,” she said quickly.

“I would like for you to use this new skill to create an opening in Harry Potter’s mind. Just a small crack, mind you, enough for perhaps…” One of his spidery hands reached out to drag his fingertips along the snake that was now winding its way up the throne. “A snake to slither through.”

Her breath caught at the words but she schooled her features. She swallowed, weighing the cost before her voice seemed to float quietly out of her without her permission.

“He has been dreaming of you, my lord.”

The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully, continuing to stroke the large head of the snake that had come to rest across his shoulders.

“Yes, I am aware. Though he may see through my eyes, I cannot find a way to him – you will open the connection.”

Hermione bowed her head obediently.

“I will not fail you, my lord.” Her voice did not shake despite the small fissure she could feel crack across her heart.

She had known going into this decision that she must betray Harry, but somehow it felt even more wrong to delve into his mind this way. To carve open a little space for the Dark Lord to slither in.

“See that you do not or the consequences…” Hermione’s body froze as a sharp crackle of pain sizzled down her spine, her eyes widening as his bone white wand was trained on her. “Will be painful to say the least.” His ruby eyes flicked first to Draco then Theo. “And not just for yourself.”

He released her, her body falling forward until she landed on her palms with a smack against the shiny floor. She panted softly and could see the look of fear in the reflection of the lacquer.

“I understand,” she said, swallowing loudly.

Two pale, bare feet stepped into her line of vision. A thin finger curled beneath her chin, drawing her gaze up. The Dark Lord stroked her face with his wand in a way she could only describe as… affectionate.

“If you succeed, I shall grant you and your family great honor.” He gestured behind her.

“Yes, my lord.”

Without another word he stepped back to the dais, placing a hand upon the snake and throne and disapparated with a loud crack .

Hermione stayed frozen to the spot, only vaguely aware of Draco pulling her into his arms and whispering praise that was echoed by Lucius and Narcissa. But in her mind, she was inside her library, pulling out a small square text the same bright green as a certain boy’s eyes. She flipped open to the first blank page of parchment and words spilled onto the page.

I’m sorry, Harry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.