Azael's Chains

Countdown

It was the day on her coin. Hermione had weasled about to figure out the date. It wasn't that she wasn't allowed to know, but more that she didn't want Antonin to realize she was paying it any mind.

She was in the shower before the Death Eater came to wake her, having risen early with anxious excitement of a child on her birthday. She came out, one sinfully thick burgundy towel wrapped around herself and another massaging the water from her hair.

"Good morning, kitten."

Hermione froze with one foot hovering above the floor. Dolohov was lounging on her bed, which wasn't anything unusual; however, he was wearing red.

Death Eaters tended to avoid the color, a remnant of foolish childhood disdain for all things Gryffindor. But his buttondown was the blaring scarlet of freshly spilt blood, vibrant against the black of his slacks.

She reeled her mind back into her body and continued walking into the room. "Good morning, Antonin."

Today's dress was a deep ruby and form-fitting. "We'll match."

He caught a drop sliding from her hair, rough pad streaking it across her throat. "You look so lovely in red, and I enjoy prickling at those who still have such strong feelings against a house in a children's school."

It so mirrored her own thoughts that Hermione found herself tracking across his face for signs of legilimency.

"I am not the Dark Lord, Hermione," he grinned. "I need a wand to read your mind. My family was new to Britain, remember? We did not have the house rivalry of Hogwarts ingrained in us from infancy." He stood and tipped her chin up for a kiss. "The Dark Lord is joining us for tea later. There will be nothing like your behavior last time you saw him." He nodded as she shook her head no. "Good. I will see you at the table."

Lord Voldemort was coming for tea. Lord- fucking- Voldemort. Was that what the coin was about? A warning?

Hermione paced as she stripped the towels aside to prepare for the day. Who was the last person to have the master coin? It was Harry's, but clearly someone else had it. Had Voldemort taken it from--? No, Harry gave it to Neville to call the members of the DA to Hogwarts.

Neville had the coin. Unless someone took it from him. He was with the Lestranges, Rodolphus had let that slip the night he'd come over for a drink and her torment. Perhaps Bellatrix would drag him along with her. She could just picture the sadistic woman shrieking with glee at the state of herself. Constantly bearing his marks and not allowed to cover them. Neville wasn't always quickest on the uptake, but neither was he an idiot. He would see the bruises, the bites, and he would know what was happening to her even if Bellatrix didn't scream it out.

It sank in her pit, and she resigned herself that yet another person, this time one of her few true friends, would know.

But if he did have the coin and he was able to keep it secret, did that mean he was still trying to fight? And that he and Michael Corner were communicating as well?

Frail hope sparked in her chest once more, reaching upward like a sunflower to buoy her. She had to write a note. A short one, easy to hide.

Hermione tore a little corner from her parchment, thought, then dipped the ink.

I'm in.

Simple, effective. Although, there was something else weighing on her.

If you see M, tell him I need the potion S offered me.

Hopefully that was both vague enough to keep from trouble and informative enough someone would smuggle her what she needed. If Michael was safe enough to ask Snape then he might be able to. If not... well, he was a Ravenclaw and he had certainly realized what was happening here. He might decide to risk sneaking her a contraceptive on principle.