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At Malfoy Manor	By : brasilkat Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 21352 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Series belongs to J.K. Rowling. I stand to make no profit from this work. I quote extensively from her book, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." Anything you recognize is hers.

Chapter List
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Hermione was in the Chamber of Secrets with Ron when they heard Voldemort's message boom throughout the castle. "Give me Harry Potter," said Voldemort's voice, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

She and Ron shared a terrified glance. Midnight was only a few hours away and they still had three Horcruxes to destroy: Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem and Nagini.

"Let's get on with this one then," Ron said as he handed Hermione the basilisk fang. The cup sat innocuously on the ground in front of them. "You do it."

Hermione tentatively gripped the fang. The smooth white bone fit easily in the curve of her hand and the surface was cool against her flesh. She kept her fingers well away from the point, where the deadly venom was still contained in small pressure-activated pouches in the hollow tooth.

"It will try to defend itself," Ron told her. "The locket did for me – it's going to try to make you doubt yourself. Just kill it as fast as you can."

Hermione nodded as the blood washed out of her face. She tightened her grip on the fang. Ron opened his mouth and made a strangled hissing sound.

A wave of swirling, opaque mist poured out of the cup. It ran onto the floor and spread out along the causeway that ran down the Chamber of Secrets.

"Hermione!" Ron cried as the mist rose up in a curtain, separating them from view. Hermione whirled around, trying to find Ron, trying to see the cup so that she could deliver the killing blow.

"Mudblood Granger," Voldemort's voice hissed. "You know you cannot win. You know that I will overtake the castle – that I am conquering Hogwarts even now. You know that the Boy Who Lived will soon die, as will all those who fight with him. You cannot complete your task."

The mist began to form around her: Harry lay dead on the ground a few steps away from her and she ran toward him. "No!" Hermione whispered, her voice caught in her throat. She reached forward, her heart in her throat. She knew this was not Harry, only a creation of the mist that was still pouring out of the cup. She heard a scream and spun, her eyes fighting to pierce the thick haze that surrounded her. It was Ron's voice. "Ron!" she screamed. Her feet slipped over the smooth black surface beneath as she raced in the direction of the voice.

The mist rose up in the shape of Ron, running alongside her. A masked Death Eater stood before them. The misty Death Eater raised its wand. A green flash illuminated the mist and Ron fell backward, his form melting into the foggy surroundings.

"If you stop fighting me now, I can make your death swift." Hermione felt a hand slip into hers and she turned. Ron – the real Ron – was standing beside her.

A ghost of herself rose up in the mist before them and was struck down by a second burst of green. In the eerie glow, Hermione saw the cup through the mist. She moved toward it. Her palms were sweating and the basilisk fang felt heavy in her hand. She adjusted her grip to keep it from falling free.

"If you continue to defy me," the voice continued, its timbre silky sweet and deadly, "I will hand you over to a fate worse than death – the fate that awaits all of your birth in my new world." Hermione was standing over the cup now, the fang held tight in one hand. She raised her arm.

The mist took form again. Hermione saw – and she knew Ron did too – a vision of herself as she had appeared at Malfoy Manor, moments before Fenrir raped her: naked, covered in blood, and tied outstretched on the table. Bellatrix was gloating beside her; long fingernails traced languidly over her bare flesh. Fenrir stalked a pace or two away from the table, waiting anxiously to be invited forward.

Hermione lunged. The basilisk fang slid through the white mist and the image of Bellatrix melted away as the fang drove through her ghostly heart and down to the cup. There was a terrible sound – like the scream of a dying hippogriff – and the mist vanished. Hermione was shaking. She didn't realize she had released the fang until she heard it clatter on the floor. She was on her knees; the cup of Hufflepuff withered in front of her, emitting vain puffs of smoke. She heard Ron behind her and felt his hand rest on her shoulder – he was shaking too.

"Alright there, Hermione?" he asked, and his voice trembled a little.

"I think so," she replied, beginning to push herself up off the ground. Ron helped pull her to her feet.

"What was that?" Ron asked and Hermione cursed inwardly. "That last bit?"

Hermione shook her head. She couldn't tell him and yet didn't want to lie and pretend that it was nothing. A part of her needed him to know, even if she didn't want him to know. A part of her wanted his comfort, his arms around her, his voice whispering reassurances to her. "He was trying to scare me into giving up," she said finally.

Ron shifted his weight on his feet. He wanted to hold her. He wasn't quite sure where this urge had come from or how long it had been there, but he realized that he wanted to touch her – had wanted to for years. It was she he had come back for in the Forest of Dean. More than Harry, more than their mission, it was Hermione who had drawn him back. It was her voice that had reached out through the Deluminator on Christmas morning.

He remembered how he had felt after he had killed the locket Horcrux. Even though he knew that Riddle's words had been lies designed to disconcert and discomfit him, that knowledge did not lessen their effect. For days afterward, he had felt unsure of whether or not Hermione and Harry were really glad to have him back. Even still, he sometimes woke with the echo of Riddle's lies in his ears. He knew that this – what he had seen in the mist and whatever Hermione had seen before he found his way to her – would stay with her for a while.

"He's just trying to get to you," Ron said softly. "Whatever he said – it's not true. And that last… that's not going to happen. We're not going to let that happen. There's only two horcruxes left. Only two more and then he'll be mortal again."

Hermione said nothing, but she leaned toward him and his arms came up around her in a movement that was so natural he scarcely noticed what he was doing until he felt her warm weight against his chest.

Her bushy hair rustled against his neck and underneath his chin. Ron wasn't quite sure, but he thought she might be crying. He leaned his head down, resting his cheek against her head. Her hair smelled like the cold, fresh water of the lake the dragon had dropped them in earlier that afternoon. "Two more. Then we can end this. Then it will all be over," he said.

Hermione sniffed back her tears. Ron was right: they had two more horcruxes to take care of. One way or another, this would end tonight. Now was not the time for tears. There was no time to spare – no time to enjoy the feel of Ron's arms around her. She did not want to pull away, but she did. "Two more," she repeated. "Let's go then. We'll find Harry, we'll find the horcruxes, and then…" She took a deep breath. "Then Voldemort." And Bellatrix, she added silently. I have my own score to settle there.
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At Malfoy Manor