Azael's Chains

Rebellion

The date on her coin had changed to match Snape's. Harry's birthday. Obviously Voldemort did not have the master coin, though that did not negate the possibility Bellatrix Lestrange had it. It could all be a plot to drive the DA into the open, though that necessitated that Michael was either part of it or an unwilling tool.

Hermione paced her small bedroom in long, even strides. Seven steps this way, six that, right and four and about face, four and six and seven, about turn... An Arithmancy book was in her hands to explain away her deep concentration should Antonin enter.

It could be a trap even, to get Dolohov or the Dark Lord or both to torture, kill, whatever the remaining members or her specifically. The Death Eater would be furious to discover her current submission was only a farce to mask her intentions to rebel. Not that he thought her truly accepting, but he seemed to believe it was a combination of her logic insisting on survival however she must, and abused woman syndrome creeping into her. Neither should be desirable, but that didn't bother him.

Still, risk versus reward. The potential rewards were immeasurable at most and a small relief at least. She would risk her life for freedom, and already had told Dolohov she'd die to avoid the other unwanted event, should it occur.

It was the right thing to do.

And if Snape was truly working with Neville, Neville whom he'd bullied and ridiculed til the boy's boggart took his form, it was worth any cost to help.

To know.

To have hope.

She could even endure Antonin Dolohov's affection if she knew there would be an end. Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors stood up when it mattered.

Dolohov had a meeting that evening; they were weekly at the least, and sometimes as often as every third day. They were only daily when there was an upcoming mission of vital importance, or so she'd gathered. Dolohov, it seemed, was one of Voldemort's staunchest supporters.

When he left, she went back to pacing her room and deliberating. She needed to compile everything she'd gleaned thus far both about the Death Eaters and the survivors from her side. Perhaps she could begin an examination of the situation and develop strategies.

She took up her quill in her wand hand, the other gripping parchment to the flat cover of her current book. The tip of the quill was sharp as a thought on her tongue as she measured her options. She could work to assign each variable numerical form and set it through equations. Or she could use representative runes. Even runes could be set in logical equations to reach conclusions.

If I go that route Voldemort should be represented by Kenaz using Elder Furthark. Although reversed Mannaz, indicative of his perversion of humanity, might work too. Laguz could easily represent all of the information I don't know.

Or I could use Arithmantic principles with Runic wizarding number symbolism. The Acromantula representing the eight soul shards of the Dark Lord and...

She decided on a two-fold method in the end, doing Arithmancy on one side of the paper and writing out Runology on the other. Perhaps Hermione would ask for multiple sheafs of parchment once this one was filled. In a practice that unsettlingly reminded Hermione of Viktor, Dolohov enjoyed watching her read, study, lose herself in theory. And if he asked, she could say they were theoretical equations she'd thought of at Hogwarts and then launch into one of the many she'd actually had to distract him.

Yes, that would do.

Cashmere ran the length of her throat in slow, sensual brushes, raising her consciousness out of the darkness of sleep. For a bare second she floated, all loose limbs and gentle warmth, and then she felt the weight of another against her side, his mouth breathing soft kisses on her tingling skin.