The End Is The Beginning Is The End

In the distance the soound of crows could be heard.  Somewhere a woman wailed. 

And the scent of rotting flesh was no longer noticable.  After hours steeped in it, the twins no longer noticed much of anything.  This was their choice.  Their sin.

What chance did they have?  What choice did they have?  Of course they defected.  The enemy arrived in hoardes, better equipped, better trained, and with the aid of dragons no less.  While hellfire rained down from above explosions destroyed the life they so painstakinly built beneath the earth.

It was a complete and utter victory for the enmy.  Fred and George ignored the curses Ginny flung at them.  This was for her own good.  And for the good of the child growing in her belly.

They fully expected to be cut down but Lucius Malfoy's reaction was completely unpredictable.  He merely made them swear an oath of loyalty and had them give names of who was pure and who was not.  He wanted to know their secrets.

So the twins told them, and for that they gained safety. 

They also gained a front row seat to the systematic murder of innocent muggles.

Lucius Malfoy sat on a throne of sorts, blond hair cascading down his back.  At his feet sat Hermione, unmoving.  Frozen, like a statute.  He looked like a god of death, one by one sending people to their end.

The most shocking part of this display of power was the person who knelt at his feet.  Dressed in a pristine, pure white gown like a sacrificial virgin was Hermione Granger.  She showed no emotion, and stared ahead, hands in her lap.  A collar was fixed around her neck, and the silver chain that was fastened to it led to Lucius's hand.

'She must be imperius'd' Fred whispered to George.  No way in hell would Hermione have tolerated this. 

It certainly create an aura of invincibility.  The smartest witch, the best witch, of their age was literally brought to her knees by Lucius Malfoy.  And if he was smart, he would keep her alive.  She was a good tool.

'It's starting.' George whispered.

Indeed it was.  The crowd began to move and whisper quietly.  Most of them, excitedly.

They brought forth a young muggle girl, with short black hair.  She was sobbing and screaming.  She couldn't have been more than fifteen. 

She was being led towards a crudely built platmore, and at the top...and it was truly maccabre...was erected a guillotine.  Draco Malfoy's own choice.  It seemed he liked to watch the spray of blood and see the terror in their eyes.

George swallowed bile but remained stoic.  He kept his arms crossed.  And watched. 

It seemed father and son were not speaking to one another.  Draco coldly ignore him, although Lucius found it to be amusing.

'You could cut the tension with a knife,' Fred muttered.

The girl was now at the top of the platform, her head was being forced down.  The crowd was silent.  'Please, no, please--'

She was cut off by the sharp sound of a blade slicing through the air...

'...Lopped--,' George murmured.

'...right off' Fred finished.