(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Hermione had wanted to rush to her room to grab her two-way journal the moment she and Kingsley had arrived back at the Burrow, even though she knew there was no way Draco would be there to answer.

Without thinking, the moment she’d slid from the thestral she’d run into Harry’s open arms, hugging him close.

“Thank Merlin you’re all right,” Harry said as she pressed her face into his chest. “I was so bloody worried.”

“Are you?” she asked, leaning back to look at the shadows in his eyes.

“Hedwig didn’t make it…” he said softly, his bright green eyes filling with tears. “I know it’s stupid… to be crying about an owl…”

Pain twisted in her chest as she watched him and she couldn’t help but pull him in again.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry. It’s not stupid at all. Hedwig was a good owl, she’d been your companion for seven years.”

He sniffed, nodding.

“She was my only friend those summers at the Dursleys. The only one who didn’t flinch at the sight of me,” Harry said in a haunted sort of tone as Hermione tried to smooth his hair.

Then, from behind them, she heard the low, raspy voice of Bill.

“Mad-eye’s dead.”

And the silence that filled the Burrow felt unending.

It had taken hours for everyone to go to bed. Especially after George’s injury and the realization that someone had betrayed them. For some reason, guilt squirmed even more presently in her chest as they sat around discussing the betrayal. Since Harry had cursed Draco, she’d felt none of her original guilt but now, as they raised a glass to the memory of Moody, bandaged up George’s face, and listened to Harry firmly state that no one in the room would ever knowingly betray them… it was eating her alive once more.

How could she move forward knowing what she knew now? How could she continue to be in the Dark Lord’s regime after what he’d forced her to do?

Finally, they’d all gone to bed, but the moment she’d laid down across from Ginny in the darkened room, her mark burned so deeply she gave a small yelp.

“What is it?” Ginny asked, sitting up quickly and rushing to Hermione’s side.

“My – my mark. He’s summoning me…” she replied, clutching her arm to her chest.

Even in the dark she could see the whites of Ginny’s eyes.

“Disillusion yourself,” Ginny said. “I’ll go down in front of you and make excuses if I’m caught.”

Hermione gave her friend a small smile of gratitude as anxiety began to creep over her.

She disillusioned herself, following Ginny down the stairs and out into the back garden. Once she’d made it past the wards of the boundary line to the property, she summoned her robes and spun on the spot, letting her mark guide her.

It was disorienting to land in such darkness. Her eyes had been adjusted to the moonlight, but there was none of it here in this dark entryway. She blinked a few times before realizing she was once again at the Lestrange Estate.

There was an odd feeling of foreboding when no one greeted her in the entryway. Her pendant began to warm and she wondered how it could be that she was in danger… had something happened? Another odd pulse of worry as she slowly made her way down the dark hallway to where she could hear murmuring voices. Beside the small study she’d met with Voldemort in was a large heavy door that was ajar, light spilling through the cracks. As she approached, it swung open and her steps stuttered as she entered.

There, on the ground, lay Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco in obvious positions of submission. Narcissa had her hands splayed out on the floor and she was heaving, her normally smooth and perfect hair mussed around her face. Hermione saw a small tremor in one of the woman’s hands as she tried to push herself back on her heels. Draco moved to help his mother, but there appeared to be some sort of magical force field around her.

“Ah, there she is,” Voldemort hissed. “My Couteau.”

She stepped forward until she was beside Draco and dropped to one knee.

“My lord,” she said, her eyes trained on the ground.

“You have failed me,” Voldemort hissed.

Her head shot up.

“My… my lord?” she choked.

Slowly, he glided forward, the tips of his pale bare feet peeking from his dark robes as he moved.

“You. Have. Failed. Me,” he repeated. “There were seven Potters, Couteau. Seven. Not one.”

She gaped for a moment.

“I did not know, my lord. I was only informed of the plan to use Polyjuice right before we left to retrieve him –”

“ Crucio, ” the Dark Lord said almost casually, flicking his wand not toward her, but towards Draco.

“NO!” she cried, moving to fling herself in front of him, but a pair of arms wrapped around her chest.

Theo.

He held her tightly as Draco began to scream and fall back onto the ground. His pale face went red with the agony of the curse as his back bowed and his limbs began to seize.

“Are you truly my loyal servant?” Voldemort asked, releasing the curse from Draco and stepping closer to her.

Theo did not let her go and in that moment, she almost hated him for stopping her from going to Draco if it had not been for the way his hands trembled against her arms and the soft sniffling noises she could hear behind his mask.

He was just as horrified as she was.

“O-of course, my lord,” she said hollowly. “I only ever wish to please you.”

The words were acid in her throat.

“ Crucio ,” the Dark Lord said again, this time his wand flicking towards Lucius.

Though Lucius fell forward onto the floor, though his body jerked and twitched with the curse – he did not scream. Instead, he looked at Narcissa, his grey eyes wide and searching as if she held the relief he so desperately needed from the pain.

“No! Please, please ,” Hermione begged. “If I am the one who failed you, why punish them?”

Voldemort pulled his wand up and Lucius’ body went slack onto the floor.

“Because your life, my pet, is not as important to you as theirs,” he said simply. “Therefore, this, ” he flicked his wand towards Narcissa, whose screams filled the room as she thrashed on the ground until he released it once more. There were tears streaming beneath Hermione’s mask as her body shook with rage. “Is a much more compelling warning than any pain I could inflict upon you.”

“I am sorry, my lord, for my failure,” she said through clenched teeth. “What can I do to prove my loyalty to you?”

Voldemort was right in front of her, with the slide of a finger over her cheek her mask vanished and his sharp fingers bit into the flesh of her face.

“Am I your master?”

There was a small piece of Hermione who rebelled against the question. No , it said, you are no master of mine, not anymore.

“Yes, my lord,” she replied instead, tears falling thickly down her face and over her throat.

“You wish to prove your loyalty to your master?”

Her stomach roiled.

“Yes, my lord.”

A sharp nail dragged down her cheek and, in its wake, a hot slicing pain bloomed.

“What is it you first said to me when you were merely fifteen years old? No matter the cost? Will you prove your loyalty now, my pet, no matter the cost? ”

Foreboding slipped beneath her skin and wound its way around her throat, trying to stop her from speaking the words that she knew would exact some terrible fate.

“Yes, my lord, no matter the cost.” The words turned to ash in her mouth as she spoke them.

“Good,” Voldemort said, releasing her face. “Then you will go and kill your muggle parents as a sign of your loyalty to me.”

Thank you so much for reading! I am loving everyone's comments & theories about where this story will end up! As a reminder - this work is completed, I update every Friday & the fic will be completely uploaded on Oct. 21. Please follow me on instagram (@gillianeliza) & tiktok (@gillianeliza_) to see extras, get updates, as well as to be in the loop for my traditional books coming out. I am so grateful for y'all!