Triumvirate

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the songs included in this fanfic nor do I make money off them. These stories are for entertainment only.


The night was bitterly cold. The sky dark, heavy with snow clouds. Hermione Granger, second captain to dark Lord Potter clutched her wand tightly in nearly frozen fingers.

Pulling her woolen coat closer with her other hand in attempt to stave off the cold. It wasn’t working, for the cold had long since seeped past the layers of clothing. The wind cut through her small frame like an icy blade.

Now, a new cold, a different, internal cold was creeping in. Amber eyes slanted to her contact. The Italian wizard who had so vociferously sought an alliance against Voldemort. His olive skin was pinched and pale. Something was wrong. Her many years of facing danger shrieked it at her. Was he the betrayer she had been seeking?

“Umberto” she said quietly, “Your contacts, they aren’t coming are they?”

Murky green eyes swung to her and a sneer lit his once handsome features, “Oh they are coming I assure you.”

His tone made her shiver for different reasons now. He slowly looked about him, “This area” he told her with smugness, “Has been warded heavily. You could enter but cannot magically leave. No apparating for you madame.”

She frowned, and tensed as he slowly lifted the sleeve of his robe to reveal the dark mark. Her gaze flew to his face, “How? You were checked.” Her keen mind trying to wrap around the deception. Umberto chuckled, a sound filled with loathing and arrogance.

“A deep confundus charm. Woven by the dark lord himself. Only Potter would have been able to discern it.”

She met his gaze bravely, "He will kill you know?"

Umberto laughed then, "Yes, but he won't have you."

A movement just ahead drew her attention. Dark cloaked shapes were filtering towards the clearing, now she could see the familiar pointed hoods. Death Eaters.

She knew time was of the essence, and she had very little of it left. She spun to face him, wand leveled at him and she whispered one of the curses she had hoped never to use. “Avada Kedava”.

The brilliant flash of green leapt from her wand tip, striking him. Swift, painless, the killing curse. Umberto fell dead to the snowy forest floor. His face still frozen in a mask of shock. A face that she knew would never leave her. The death eaters broke through the trees as she flung herself into the darkness.

Magically warded. Had to run. She understood now what Harry had so often said. Life didn’t flash before your eyes, death did. Your own, over and over. Every gruesome, pain filled detail. Every possibility, every macabre twist. Amplified, vivid. Terrifying.

The cold air stung her cheeks, burned her laboring lungs. Frost covered branches grabbed at her hair, slapped at her face. Leaving snarled curls, and scratched flesh. Still she ran.

She had to escape, had to get word to Harry of the death eaters. She fired stunning and slowing spells over her shoulder with what little air she could muster, but still they came.

Branches snapping, muted curses lifting. She dodge hexes and spells as best she could, trying to navigate on the treacherous ground. Closer, they drew. Ever closer.

She couldn’t fail! Not her post, not Harry! Oh gods she was going to die here.

She zigged when she should have zagged, the bright flash seeming to swallow her whole. And then her body hit the ground, hard as pain engulfed her.

The Cruciatus, she knew at once. Every muscle, bone and organ tightened and bent in on itself, near to bursting. The scream that should have left her body was lost in a tight, pained gurling sound. She trembled on the floor. Her mind locked in the impenetrable box of pain. She knew this pain. Had felt it once before. Had hoped and prayed never to feel it again.

But fate wasn’t always generous.

The pain eased off and she sucked in a harsh breath. No longer caring of the bloody palms she tried to lift herself with, the skinned knees digging in to the snowy floor through ripped pants. And then, it came again. “Crucio!”

Throwing her hard down hard and she screamed this time. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction but her body refused to be silent. Her piercing cry rent the air, hanging heavy around her, echoing off the trees and bouncing back at her.

“Crucio!”

The hisses continued, the pain raged and she longed for the oblivion that would not come this time.

The pain eased again and she heard it, the snap of branches. The heavy breathing of something large looming closer. Mostly likely drawn by the scent of her blood. The death eaters glanced around as a sharp growl rumbled through the stillness.

“What the bloody hell is that?” one asked his fellow.

Hermione wanted to care. She really did. But given her impending doom, she’d much rather be ripped to shred in a swifter, less painful form of death than torture.

She tried to gain her knees again. “Crucio!” Down she went, a choked whimper dying on her tongue.

Suddenly the pain ceased, her nerves still singing from the curse. “Good work mates”.

A voice, from behind her. She could look, didn’t have to. A long black cloak brushed against her bloodied fingers as he stood over her.

A death eater. He rolled her with his foot, but she was unaware of the care he took. All she saw was a mask. More pain. Death.

“Better hurry” the newcomer said, “The dark lord doesn’t like to wait. I’m here to bring her back”

The others shifted glancing at the trees. “What’s that?” one asked.

“Werewolves” the newcomer replied, “Riled by the scent of blood. Vicious really.” His tone was bored, as though he were discussing the weather, or something unsavory on the bottom of his shoe.

One of the death eaters shook his head, “Best we be off then.” He took a step towards Hermione’s bent form.

“Not you” the newcomer growled.

“What are you playing at?”

“You used the cruciatus on her”

“S’right.”

“You go nowhere. Avada Kedava!” The last was hissed in such a hateful voice that Hermione was certain it was for her.

The other two death eaters shrank back, “Who are you?”

Hermione felt strong arms gather her up, “Death” he said simply, “Saya! Cain! I leave them to you”

Hermione lifted her hand, weak and shaking towards the death eater’s mask.

That voice, she knew that voice.

She struggled to speak, to ask. Her mouth opened and closed without sound. A broken whimper rising in almost inaudible plea.

Her head lolled, her body limp.

“I’ve got you now” he told her, adjusting his hold on her. Drawing her close to the width of his chest. The warmth of his body. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the mask and he pulled it free with an impatient tug.
No doubt the truth would offer her no comfort.

Pale features, an angelic face. Eyes like silver.

It couldn’t be. Her pain bound mind tried to reconcile the confusing image. But couldn’t. It was too much.

“M…m…al….ff…foy”

The darkness came and she slumped like a broken doll in his grip.