Azael's Chains

Want of a Wand

It was weeks before Hermione again met her erstwhile adversary. Dolohov returned to the library with a wariness she associated with any man near her, though he came alone. However, his air was soon explained.

"You will join me tonight at Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord wishes to have the pleasure of your company." His eyes gleamed between thick, dark lashes. "Come; we will Floo there directly." His fingers gripped her arm rather than reaching to escort her, digging into the muscle like overripe fruit.

The halls were empty, echoing with their footsteps. Hermione's were clipped and anxious beside the longer, hollow strides of Antonin. She darted glances around the silent paintings and barren walkways; though it was not yet curfew, no students were in sight. Hogwarts had become a halfway house to uneasy children, and they did not dare tiptoe the halls when there was greater safety in their dormitories.

The gargoyle sprang aside with a hesitance Hermione recognized as the castle's suppressed desire for protection against threats, but if Antonin noted it, he said nothing. Snape was the only being awaiting them in the office itself, no snoozing portraits in sight, nor any thingamabobs whirling or doodads daddling. Just crisp angles, sorted stacks of parchment, neatly ordered books and the dour headmaster.

"Professor," she said by way of greeting, and the pallid man gave a single nod in reply before Antonin tossed a handful of powder in the blazing hearth and called out the destination, pushing her gently but emphatically inside.

Spinning, sooty worlds blurred by before crashing onto the sight of the Malfoys' upper study. Lucius Malfoy himself extended a hand to assist her from the fireplace so that Antonin could enter after.

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

"Good evening, Mister Malfoy." He guided her toward a chair circled around for the occasion. "Good evening, my lord, gentlemen." Draco, Rabastan Lestrange, and Blaise Zabini were all present as well, though the oddity of one Lestrange brother without the other struck her gut like one of those pills that bubbled when it met liquid.

"Ah, the clever little mudblood! Welcome, Miss Granger." Garnet eyes shone at her, his white flesh almost warm in the orange embrace of firelight. Before she could say anything, foolish or otherwise, the fire roared to sound the coming of her Death Eater companion.

Fingertips against the small of her back preceded him drawing her away from Lucius and to himself. When he sat and tugged as though to pull her onto his lap, the dry his of Voldemort's voice washed down her spine. "Ah, Antonin. I would like Miss Granger to sit in the chair beside you so that I may more easily speak to her and Severus both."

"My lord." His fingers tightened on her smaller hand until her bones shifted, then he released her to amble beside him.

"After all, we must discuss the upcoming N.E.W.T.s, isn't that right?" His voice was as clever as his eyes, sharp as his teeth.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she looked between her old professor and the Dark Lord. "I can take my N.E.W.T.s? Truly?"

"We are allowing Draco the luxury of the same; you will come to Hogwarts during the examinations to take them with this year's cohort. Do you think you can be ready in six months' time?"

"Yes," she breathed, adding eager nods at Snape. "Yes, thank you! Thank you both." Lest he react negatively, Hermione laid a hand across Dolohov's own. "Thank you, Antonin." Before she could lift it, he took it in his own and raised it to kiss.

"Draco raised an excellent point," the Dark Lord drawled. "His own results and those of your yearmates cannot be put in context without your own. Even Lucius insisted he needed to see how his son compared to the mudblood swot."