Three

Thanks to all of you reading and reviewing and simply stopping by to see the story. It brightens my day.

Thanks again to magicalpresence and her magnificent beta work, ideas, and support!

Love,

Kristine

A lot of dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from Chapter 23: Malfoy Manor of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling. Any paragraph containing quoted or very closely paraphrased material will be marked with an asterisk. No infringement is intended. I simply admire the canon work and wish to integrate it into my little plot. I make no money from this.

"How is she, Severus?"

He didn't know how to answer the question. He didn't really know how she was, did he? "She's unconscious, kept in a stasis spell for now." Severus slipped the vial from his pocket and set it on the desk.

Albus looked at the little thing. "Did she give you that?"

"I didn't take it from her, if that's what you're asking." Despite the words, his voice carried little bite; his emotions were too contained for that at the moment. Severus turned from the portrait and drew his wand. There were wards to be set. An interruption would be costly.

"Were Harry and Ronald there?"

It took him a moment to register that nobody could actually come in the room without his permission. He cast the wards anyway; paranoia had served him well over the years.

Severus shook his head, finally realizing what the Headmaster had asked him. "Only Granger and the house elf were there. It seems that we're the only ones to know the Secret."

"That's quite a display of trust, Severus."

He scoffed, the ridiculous notion of trust causing a bit of feeling to slither through his walls. "She said herself that she was on the edge of delirium and she couldn't think of any other options."

Albus was quiet for too long after that, so Severus continued, "Most of the damage should be easy to fix, but her veins have turned a silvery color and there's a smell in the room I can't shake. I think that is what stumped whoever she was with."

"I see."

He swung around to eye the painting. A taciturn Albus was not a good sign. "What are you planning, old man?"

The old man in question held up his hands in a half-hearted display of innocence. "I can plan nothing at this stage, my boy, not without knowing more of Miss Granger's injuries."

He picked up the vial on the desk, gripping it perhaps a bit too hard. "Then I suppose I'll not prolong your suspense, Albus. I don't want to stand in the way of your scheming."

"That's not fair to say, Severus."

With a harsh laugh, Severus opened the cabinet on the other side of the office. "Isn't it?" He uncorked the vial and let the silvery substance fall into the basin.

Running his finger over the runes, Severus lowered his head into the mist.

The Malfoys' ornate drawing room held many memories for him.

Bellatrix, foolishly trying to seduce him to the Dark Lord's side with her lackluster wit and overbearing beauty.

Friendly drinks with Lucius, the display of trust that had actually seduced him to the Dark Lord's side.

A warm summer evening that had been his first meeting with the Death Eaters.

A cold spring night that had been his first meeting with the Death Eaters as a spy.

Countless other pieces of his life flooded him as this new, foreign memory solidified around him, but in the moment he saw Hermione Granger, he knew that this would be what would occupy his mind should he ever set foot in the room again.

Fenrir Greyback, that sorry piece of filth, slid one dirty hand across her face and the other down her backside, crooning to her as Bellatrix cut her free from the ropes binding her to Potter, Weasley, Dean Thomas, and a goblin. "I'd be much obliged, Madam Lestrange, if I could have the Mudblood after you've finished," he cooed. "I'm not too particular about the state of her, long as the skin's still on her, see."

Granger didn't flinch under his caresses. She ignored him altogether; her eyes were focused over his shoulder, on Weasley as he pleaded to take her place. Even with the blood drained from her face, she looked calm and determined.

"It'll be okay, Ron," she said softly. "I'll be fine. Really, you'll see. It'll be okay."

Laughing, Greyback leaned in and pressed his lips to her neck, no doubt letting his teeth graze over her skin. Still, Granger held firm and murmured broken reassurances, eyes locked with Weasley's.

"Don't worry, little blood traitor," Bellatrix sang sweetly. Too sweetly. Severus steeled himself. "You can take the Mudblood's place when she dies." She tossed Greyback a wand. "Take them downstairs, wolf. Unharmed."*

Greyback complied, brandishing his wand before him to push the struggling boys and half-conscious goblin out of the room, but Severus watched Bellatrix. Her face was contorted in a fury that Severus had never seen her endure. It was understandable, in her peculiar way. The Dark Lord was her entire reason for life, for existing. If he found out that she had lost the Sword of Gryffindor...though she'd never had it, really...everything she had would disappear in an instant.

"Where did you get that sword, girl?" Bella's voice was painful to hear, far beyond nails on a chalkboard.

"We found it in a forest," Granger answered, voice steady and eyes calm. Severus got the strange feeling that she was managing a vague sort of Occlumency; he recognized the stony, indifferent look on her face as one he often wore.

The madwoman stalked around the room, her wand sparking and flaring as she eyed Granger. "Sectumsempra," she whispered.

Despite himself, Severus shivered at the intensity in her voice.

Cuts bloomed across Granger's face and arms. They were shallow enough, but she stumbled forward as the blood began to drip down her body. "It was in the Forest of Dean, Madam Lestrange," the girl said quietly.

"You dare lie to me!" she snapped, wand hand flying. A wobbling liquid mass appeared above Granger's head and Severus smelled vinegar.

"What a terribly Muggle way to inflict pain, Bella." Lucius laughed with approval. "Very appropriate."

The vinegar spilled over Granger, mixing with her blood. She cried out and bent over, groaning as her skin burned.

"Tell the truth, Mudblood," Bellatrix ground out, eyes flashing with wild rage.

With slight difficulty, Granger turned her bloodied face up and looked her in the eye. Brave girl. "That was the truth."

"Crucio!" Bellatrix shrieked, all pretenses of composure gone. "Where did you get the sword?"

The groans grew into a terrible scream as she fell to the ground. Granger was holding back; Severus was sure of it. He could see her fighting for control, even as her body twitched and twisted.

Several minutes passed before Bellatrix lifted the curse, her own body heaving as she drew breath. Holding the Cruciatus so long could be dangerous for both involved, even for as experienced a practitioner as Bella. The madwoman advanced, silver knife trading places with her wand. Pulling the girl up by her neck, she drew the blade across Granger's arm with an angry hiss.

The poor girl screamed again, dropping to the floor and unable to process the questions that Bellatrix now shouted at her. Severus didn't hear them either; he was transfixed by the blade that Bella yanked back. It was glowing as it sucked the blood into itself.

He had seen it before. That blade was a wicked one, devised by Rodolphus before Azkaban stole his vicious brand of intelligence away. He had never seen it in action, but as Severus watched, the veins in Granger's arm begin to shine with silver.

The silver-blue spider web, then. That would be... difficult.

"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?" Her wand descended again, and boils exploded across her skin. The Furnunculus.*

"We found it...we found it...PLEASE!" Granger cried. Blood and vinegar were drying on her face, and the boils he could see churned with magic and putrid liquid. It nearly hurt him, watching her squirm with discomfort as she tried to relieve the pressure on the sores.*

"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!" Bellatrix's face was flushed with her anger. Severus had never seen her look so alive. "Sectumsempra!"*

Granger screamed again, the sound echoing off the well-adorned walls. It was fortunate, Severus thought, that Bellatrix did not possess the personal, deep-running hatred that was necessary for the curse to hit with its full force. Prejudice and anger wouldn't cut deep enough to kill.

That observation didn't help the girl writhing on the ground. By her count and by the amount of damage he'd seen on her, that was the last of Sectumsempra. At least there was that.

The screams lessened and, with a jolt of admiration, Severus realized that Granger was speaking through her pain. "The forest! We found it in the forest!"

Bellatrix growled, lunging to the ground with her knife and wand. She yanked up Granger's shirt so she could press the tip of the blade over her heart. "What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"*

Granger just shook her head. The blade slipped against her skin. Blood was absorbed nearly as quickly as it spilled and a new line of silver crept into Granger's veins.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"*

The girl screamed and jerked and twisted beneath Bellatrix, who held the knife still. The second Cruciatus, much more intense than the last.

"How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"*

Bella still hadn't let up on the curse when she stood up. Her wand arm held steady.

"We only met him tonight!" Granger was sobbing through the pain of the curse now, her words not much more than half-formed gasps for air. "We've never been inside your vault..." Her body shook. "It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"*

"A copy?" screeched Bellatrix as she released the spell. She threw her hands in the air and turned away from the shivering girl. "Oh, a likely story!" She began to mutter, obviously distressed. This was not going how she wanted. She threw a purple shower of light at the girl and Severus was grateful to see it was nothing more than unleashed energy. It wouldn't complicate anything.*

"But we can find out easily!" Lucius said, almost as smooth as he'd ever been. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"*

Draco...wretched, thin Draco...left the room silently with an almost grateful look on his face. Severus wondered if anybody but Narcissa noticed how badly he was shaking. He empathized. They'd both seen torture at the hands of the lovely, talented Bellatrix Lestrange, but the game had changed with Hermione Granger at the receiving end of that walnut wand.

The girl's sobs turned to retching during her brief reprieve. Bellatrix paced, occasionally slinging sparks toward Granger, though none actually hit her.

Draco returned with the goblin, who was immediately shoved to the floor. He was half-awake when he came into the room, but the sight of Bellatrix's twisted face seemed to startle him to full consciousness.

A loud bang! from below stopped Bellatrix from beginning her interrogation.

Lucius's head snapped toward the door. He had gotten a bit jumpy since Severus had seen him last. Of course, being around a seething Bellatrix would make all but the Dark Lord nervous. "What was that? Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar? Draco...no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"*

Again, Draco walked from the room without a word, his face blank. He really was broken, wasn't he?

Bellatrix, furious at the interruption, had taken the chance to throw an angry "Crucio!" at Granger. Her body danced with the pain and screams tore from her throat, but Severus got the impression that it was mere reflex acting now. Her eyes were empty and her movements loose. She was still conscious, as the memory was intact, but her mind had stopped resisting and let go of the pain.

Bellatrix leered at the goblin. "I think the Mudblood provides enough motivation for you to be truthful?"

The goblin nodded earnestly, his eyes darting from Bella's anger to Granger's still thrashing body. Bellatrix's lips twisted into a horrifying grin. She enjoyed torture, even while consumed with fury.

The curse was released for the third time, and Bellatrix nodded at Narcissa, who handed the Sword over to the goblin.

"Well, is it the true sword?" Bellatrix sneered, wand raised in warning.*

He turned the sword over, ran his fingers down the hilt and blade. "No, it's a fake." *

The goblin lied. Surely he knew that this was the real thing, but he lied? Good. This was good.

"Are you sure? Quite sure?" Bellatrix was almost childlike with hope.*

"Yes."*

The anger and desperation drained from her face. She practically hummed with glee as she flicked her wand at the goblin, cutting his face and kicking him away. "And now, we call the Dark Lord!" she crowed, ecstasy lighting her face. She pushed her sleeve back and pressed her forefinger to the Dark Mark there. "And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."*

The werewolf had just enough time to take a step toward the motionless Miss Granger before all hell broke loose. Weasley burst through the door, Potter behind him. Curses and hexes flashed through the air, but Severus kept his attention focused on Granger's still body. He had to know if anything else hit her.

Bellatrix had her body now, pulled her up and pressed the silver knife to the young woman's throat. Little drops of blood seeped out of the shallow slice and trembled over the glowing blade before disappearing altogether. The silver lines had already traced her neck, and those nearest the new cut grew thicker and stronger.

At a groaning sound from the ceiling, Bellatrix jumped to the side, dropping Granger to the ground. An exquisite, priceless chandelier fell, crashing onto Granger's lifeless body. The cuts from the broken glass barely mattered; the girl's skin was carved to pieces. Greyback wouldn't enjoy her so much now.

The memory dissolved just as Weasley removed her from the wreckage.

Finally, Granger had slipped into the mercy of unconsciousness and Severus was slipped back into the Headmaster's office.

He reached into the back of the cabinet, pulling out the liquor that Dumbledore had stashed there years ago.

"That bad?"

Severus poured a finger of Firewhiskey with barely shaking hands. "Bella was desperate."

"And as imaginative as ever, I'd guess."

A bitter sound escaped the current Headmaster as he finally turned to face the one he'd replaced. "In the opening act, she poured vinegar on the girl's cuts."

Albus looked grim, but patient. He was waiting for Severus to say it. Always waiting, that man. Damn his patience and uncomfortable silences.

"Most of it was standard enough...Cruciatus, Sectumsempra, boils, bruises." He swallowed the whiskey with an expressionless face and stared at the blank patch of wall beside the portrait. Severus let the silence grow.

After a moment, Albus's voice...cold, but gentler than he'd ever heard it...broke in. "And the silver veins?"

Severus groaned. It wasn't easy to admit this. "Do you remember how Rodolphus Lestrange was in school, before all of this?" The man in the portrait nodded gravely before Severus continued. "Always a new spell, a new potion to show off. Incredibly crude efforts with limited results, but innovative enough to draw the Dark Lord's favor." He looked at the floor with a deep breath. "He got better with... time."

He couldn't quite say "... with my assistance."

"What was it, Severus?"

"A silver knife. The properties of the silver alloy were perfect for holding the enchantments in place. Exquisitely designed, and probably the most elegant of Lestrange's work." Another deep breath. "The blade draws power from the blood it spills. It absorbs the magic of the wizard or witch into its blade, using it to both sharpen the edge and release a slow-spreading magic into the bloodstream. The blood turns to a living potion...a variation on the Animus Exuro...that feeds on the magic and the mind of the person infected."

Silence settled in again as both men processed the half-confession, the said and unsaid words. The other portraits were listening in; Severus could feel their eyes. Dilys Derwent dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Well?" the reedy voice of Phineas Nigellus Black demanded. "What's to become of Miss Granger?"

With that, questions and exclamations burst from each portrait in the room. Severus thought he could hear a witch sobbing hysterically. Had they become attached to Miss Granger from afar? Or was the horror of a dying student too much to bear?

"How far has it progressed?" Albus's question cut through the rest, straight through the din and into Severus. He was reminded of the ghostly Dumbledore at Grimmauld Place as, once again, his intact soul made itself known.

The other portraits quieted as Severus murmured his reply. "Her whole right arm, half her torso, and her neck and face."

Another round of sobs and whispers and questions broke out, once again silenced by a question from Albus Bloody Dumbledore.

"Can you keep her alive long enough for Tom to fall? Harry must not be distracted now."

Severus's black eyes snapped to Albus with a snarled "Certainly." The whiskey glass shattered against the picture frame, shards embedding in the canvas.

Without another word, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts disappeared into his quarters, leaving behind a wall full of his sputtering, sobbing predecessors.