Blaise had been inducted first, kneeling before the Dark Lord in his expensive black robes as he repeated the same vow Hermione had said earlier.

“I, Blaise Lysander Zabini, heir of House Zabini, swear fealty to the Dark Lord above all others.”

Then the Dark Lord nodded, gesturing for him to rise.

“Welcome, Blaise Zabini.”

Theo had been next, swirling his cloak dramatically as he’d knelt.

“I, Theodore Ignotus Nott the Second, heir of House Nott, swear fealty to the Dark Lord above all others.”

At Theo, the Dark Lord gave a small smile before bidding him to his feet.

“Welcome, Theodore Nott.”

Draco was last. She had been right about them all in the crowd, but especially Draco. After their bond had been provoked, she now thought she could have found him in the darkness if she needed to.

As he stepped to the dais, he gave Hermione a small wink before dropping to his knee.

“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, heir of House Malfoy, swear fealty to the Dark Lord above all others."

To Draco, the Dark Lord gave the largest nod of acceptance and warmth.

“Welcome, Draco Malfoy.”

Silence filled the room as Draco made his way to his original position close to the dais. It was clear the Death Eaters were waiting for Hermione to kneel before the Dark Lord, to repeat her vow and expose her identity.

Instead, the Dark Lord merely gestured to his followers to approach and one by one the masked wizards approached the dais. There were gruff greetings of, “My lord” followed by the wizard kneeling and extending their forearms for the Dark Lord to touch with a single finger. Most often He did not reply in any way, though occasionally he would ask some question.

“How goes it at the Ministry, Yaxley?” the Dark Lord asked.

Yaxley stumbled slightly as he was in the process of getting to his feet and placed his knee back on the floor.

“It is going well, my lord. I believe soon I will have the perfect official under the imperius,” Yaxley replied in a shaking voice.

The Dark Lord merely nodded before releasing him with a flick of his fingers.

“Ah, Theodore Nott the First,” the Dark Lord mused as a large Death Eater clumsily made his way to his knee. “Are you proud of your only child?”

Anger flashed hot through Hermione. Kneeling before her was Theo’s father, the man she’d seen in the depths of Theo’s mind striking a child .

The man grumbled something unintelligible that sounded suspiciously like not my son.

Rage bubbled up through her throat.

“Speak up for your lord,” Hermione snapped, unable to help herself.

Theodore Nott Sr.’s eyes widened. She wasn’t sure if it was in fear or indignation, but he replied a little louder.

“He is not my son, my lord,” he said in a gruff voice.

“No, he is not . Thank Salazar for that,” Hermione growled through her teeth.

She jumped as a cold, bony hand closed over her wrist. She hadn’t even realized she’d removed her wand from its pocket or that she had pointed it at the man in front of her.

“Patience, Couteau,” the Dark Lord soothed in an amused voice.

Slowly, Hermione lowered her wand and dipped her head in obedience.

“My lord,” she said quietly in apology.

“Careful, Theodore Sr,” the Dark Lord said in almost a playful voice. “Or you may just get cut.”

Without another word the man stumbled backwards and fled from the room.

Towards the end of the group, she recognized the low voice that greeted Him.

“My lord,” the man said, extending his forearm.

“Ah, Severus. Please stand to the side and wait. I have business to discuss with you,” the Dark Lord commanded.

“As you wish, my lord,” Snape replied with a dip of his head.

The mass of people began to thin before the Dark Lord lost his patience.

“I am happy to see you have rid yourself of the filth, my lord,” Bellatrix simpered as she bowed. Though she wore a mask, she did not have her hood raised and her wild curling hair was recognizable.

The Dark Lord did not respond for a long moment and he appeared to be contemplating how best to before he twisted his wand. An agonized scream was wrenched from the woman, whose back arched inhumanly against the spell.

Hermione counted the seconds in her head, forcing herself to maintain absolute stillness before the Dark Lord released Bellatrix who fell with a loud smack to the floor. It was a strange feeling to be both horrified and indifferent to the pain of another.

“I believe, Bellatrix, you know what to do,” the Dark Lord said in a dangerous tone, gesturing towards Hermione with an open hand.

Bellatrix’s eyes widened in surprise and Hermione suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Really – who did she think Hermione was? She was the only other Death Eater present who did not wear trousers and she was certain that Bellatrix had been present for her marking ritual if only to force her to make an unbreakable vow. Perhaps it was just the utter disbelief that the Dark Lord would place a mudblood above a pureblood witch such as Bellatrix.

“Or, must I assist you again?” The Dark Lord threatened.

Bellatrix whimpered, scrambling up the steps and pressed her lips to the tips of Hermione’s shoes twice, before scampering down the dais and out of sight.

“Watch out for that one,” the Dark Lord said in an off hand voice.

“She seems more trouble than she is worth, my lord,” Hermione said, before catching herself.

The Dark Lord turned to her, his red eyes alight, and then a large bark of laughter escaped from him. It was a sound so odd, so different from regular laughter. It lacked joy or the spark of human temperament, but it was a laugh all the same.

“Perhaps, Couteau, perhaps,” he agreed.

Finally, all who were left in the large drawing room besides herself and the Dark Lord was Lucius, Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Snape.

With a gesture as instruction, Hermione stepped off the dais and took her place between Draco and Theo. The former, gripping her hand tightly for a moment beneath the swirl of their cloaks before she settled, grateful for the first time in a few hours to kneel.

“Remove your masks,” the Dark Lord commanded.

Hermione watched as Lucius and Severus passed their wands over their faces. She heard a muttered finite from Lucius that she was sure was only spoken in order to help the three teenagers, and then their masks disappeared in a puff of dark mist. The rest of them followed suit and Hermione had to stop herself from gasping at the rush of fresh air.

“Draco,” the Dark Lord hissed. “Are you ready to take your place in my inner circle amongst your father and beloved?”

“I am, my lord,” Draco replied with a dip of his head and a graceful hand placed over his heart.

“And you, Theodore and Blaise?”

“I am, my lord,” the two boys replied together in a similar gesture of obedience to Draco.

The Dark Lord tipped his head forward, obviously pleased.

“Then I have a mission for you, Draco. A mission your bride and friends may assist in. One I am hoping Severus here will oversee.”

A mission… Hermione’s heart fluttered with anxiety and anticipation. Another opportunity to please the Dark Lord, another opportunity for their doom. She knew the Dark Lord was a fickle master, his favor as variable as the wind.

“Of course, my lord,” Draco said, with obvious excitement in his voice to prove himself. “It is my honor to serve you.”

The Dark Lord leant forward; his red eyes bright with excitement as his mouth split into a wide, terrifying smile.

“If you fail in this mission, Draco,” the Dark Lord’s attention turned to Hermione. “I expect your intended to complete your task.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Hermione said.

“It is settled, then,” the Dark Lord mused, leaning back against his throne. “One of you will kill Albus Dumbledore.”