Intoxication

"It isn't what we say or think that defines us,

but what we do."

- Jane Austen

Chapter 5: A Rope

Theodore Nott was standing with his back to the dungeon door when he heard the door open and slam shut, startling him out of his thoughts. The only thing he was expecting to see was Lord Voldemort. What he didn't expect to see was Lord Voldemort covered in blood. Blood was streaked all over the left side of his face and neck, the end of his hair was dried and looked crunchy.

"My Lord!" Theo jumped to attention. "Are you okay? Do you require medical attention?"

Voldemort said nothing at first. It almost seemed like he didn't hear Theo or even see him. He was staring straight ahead with a vacant look in his eyes. His jaw looked tense as he jutted it out to one side.

Theo gave a light wave in the eyeline of Voldemort to try to get his attention a second time. "Sir?"

Voldemort blinked. And then blinked again and shook his head slightly before turning his attention to Theo who was regarding him with caution.

"Theodore."

It seemed more of a statement of confirmation to Theo than it was a reply.

"Sir, are you alright?" Theo raised an eyebrow in question. Voldemort paused for just a second before he flashed a bright, predatory smile at the boy.

Theo found it to be truly terrifying.

He looked deranged.

Blood stained what were his perfectly white teeth. His porcelain skin looked like it was bathed in crimson and his eyes looked...

Completely empty.

No thought or emotion visible.

Only hollowness.

"I am perfectly fine." The word sounded fragile the way Voldemort said it. He stood tall, straightened his tie, his right hand clean as his left was brown from the blood drying on it. Rolling his shoulders, he raked another hand through his hair before turning to Theo.

"I would like you to keep this to yourself, Theodore." Again, another statement. He wasn't asking, he was telling.

"Y- yes, of course my Lord", Theo nodded quickly. "If I may, do I have a mess down there to clean up?"

A body?

Voldemort sighed deeply. "No. Leave her for now. I am curious what is to come next."

Theo tilted his head like it was its own question mark. "What comes next, sir?"

Voldemort eyed him," It has nothing of concern to you. Tomorrow morning, have someone… Inconsequential bring her food and water. Make sure it is someone like that boy that was captured with you before. Do you understand?"

Voldemort's eyes seared into him with the question that he asked. Theo understood what he meant. He meant someone where it didn't matter if they died. Because he may be expecting that they will die. But how could that be? It's not like Granger had anything down there to use as a weapon.

"Theodore." Voldemort's voice as calloused and stern," Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, my Lord." Theo nodded," Will you require anything else?"

Voldemort turned his back and started stalking down the hallway from Theodore when he heard his master say: "Let me know what happens."

"How was guard duty?" Blaise asked Theo as he came into the room. Blaise Zabini was lounging in a chair playing wizards chess against a very stern Draco Malfoy when Theo had walked in. The image of a blood-covered Dark Lord flashed across his eyes before he set his face in a casual expression, shrugging. "Just as fun as could be expected I suppose."

"Wonder what he did to her down there", Draco pondered aloud. "Did you hear any screaming?"

Theo shook his head, pulling off his dark robes and throwing them onto his bed. "None. But that doesn't mean there wasn't any."

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he watched his two best friend's move pieces slowly and cautiously. It was like watching a dance between minds.

This was his corner of peace in the fucked up world they all lived in. It was almost like boarding in their dorm at Hogwarts. Only the three of them occupied their living quarters. A small stone, damp room that held a fireplace on one wall, a bed on each of the other three walls so the ends all faced each other, and two chairs in the middle of the room, between the beds, that had a chess board that always seemed to be in the middle of a game. It was small, but it was theirs, and he lived for the moments that he could escape into it and away from all of them.

The them that were adults that acted like children, crazy-bushed haired aunts that laughed manically, red eyes that watched everyone's movements, and ears always listening out to see if they could rat anyone out to make themselves look better. It was a dog eat dog world in their corner of the universe and Theo knew to never let his guard down.

As he continued to watch his friends' figures skirt around each other, his thoughts drifted to the sharp-tongued lioness that they had hidden away in their dungeon and what their Dark Lord could have done to her to be that saturated in blood. It was no doubt hers and as much as he ultimately didn't care if she lived or died, Theo was never a fan of a long, torturous death. He liked getting it done and moving on. His two friends on the other hand… They could maim and torture. He had seen them do it and it always made his stomach churn. The irony didn't escape him that he could Avada someone without a second thought, but the thought of their insides becoming their outsides… It wasn't for him.

But he could never admit that.

Not even to the two closest people he had in this entire world.

Theo never doubted Draco or Blaise's loyalty to Theo, but he could never be sure of how far it extended, and some things were best left unsaid.

"Who do you think is inconsequential?" Theo asked, breaking his train of thoughts.

"Inconsequential how?" Draco asked, his grey eyes never leaving the board.

Shrugging, Theo answered," Like if they were to be killed tomorrow, no one would give a fuck."

"Probably Crabbe", Blaise snorted. "He's a fucking idiot. He's living in a broom closet and hasn't gone on a mission in months. I think everyone has forgotten he even exists."

Theo nodded, pursing his lips to the side.

What a position to be in… Finding out who can die…

"Why do you ask?" Draco asked," Knight to D6."

"Fucking A, Draco!" Blaise cursed as his bishop got smashed to pieces.

Theo fell back onto his bed and stared at the moss-covered stone ceiling. "Just wondering… Don't worry about it."

Cold and empty.

That is all Hermione felt as she lay on the floor, curled up on her side where he had left her. Her body felt torn apart, raped, eviscerated… His words rang like a cursed bell in her mind.

Next time…

I need you…

Her eyes cracked open under the crust that had hardened in her eyelashes from all of her crying and saw the carnage that he had left behind. A thin, uneven red line was stretched from the palm of her hand to just past her wrist. The blood that flowed from it was dried and looked brown as it covered her arm and hand. Little pools that had collected on the floor were sticky and clotting.

With a shaky grasp, she placed her hand onto the floor and pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing as she did so. Her back felt knotted and tense from when she had landed on it with Voldemort's body falling on top of hers. Pulling her knees underneath her chin, she hugged her legs to her chest tightly. She involuntarily shuddered at the memory…

His body falling on top of hers, feeling the weight of him hit her as they fell. All she felt at the time was survival. That she had to use that opportunity to kill him, wrapping herself around him like a cobra, tightening her limbs as hard as she could.

Bile filled her mouth as she remembered what it felt like.

His heartbeat.

It was thudding so hard against her chest that at the time, she didn't recognize it for what it was. But now having come down from the adrenaline that was surging through her, she could remember.

It was strong.

Firm.

Not at all what would be a fragile, man's heartbeat.

Which was what Voldemort is.

Or was.

The man that was before her. The man that Voldemort is now… Was certainly not fragile. He seemed confident and if possible, even more psychotic. There was no doubt it was him either. The darkness, the magic, the red eyes…

It all spoke of Voldemort, but the face that looked at her had to be…

Tom Riddle.

His recent appearance, his youth, his power… It had to be because of his horcruxes.

Her horcruxes.

As the thoughts started turning in Hermione's head, the more she felt the coldness in her seep away. His horcruxes… That was it! They turned back the clock for him. They made him young again. And if judging by his appearance now, they turned him back to the age he was when he made them. So, he had to be what? Early 20's at the most now?

But what the fuck was that earlier? The evisceration of her arm and his words… They still echoed in her mind.

I need you…

Next time…

Hermione's eyes fell to the pools of blood that were on the floor next to her as they continued to dry and clot.

Her blood.

He needed her blood.

But for what?

Standing on shaky legs, she felt the urge to pace. Being imprisoned made the few days she had been here feel like an eternity. As she paced her cell, her bare feet tracking through the blood on the ground leaving a trail of bloody footprints.

I need you…

Next time…

"Why my blood?" Hermione muttered, squeezing her eyes shut.

Everything Voldemort and his groupies stood for was anti-muggleborns. They thought the very ground she walked on was filthy, let alone her blood. And here he was. Hiding away in the night, secluding her to himself, and ravaging the blood that was the antithesis for everything he believed in.

My blood…

Sitting on her soggy hay pile, Hermione realized it was actually the second time he had selfishly used her blood without her consent. The first time, being the awful ceremony that she was forced to be a part of. Leaning against the freezing bars of the cell, her fingers twining around the hay below her, her thoughts drifted to the ceremony… To Bill's and Fleur's mangled bodies hanging in front of her. How many other Order members did they grab? How many of the Order were dead? Fleur had to be dead at this point. She seemed she was on Death's door when she last saw her.

The Order.

The emptiness inside of her was louder than ever. Every heartbeat in her chest sounded like it was an echo in an empty chamber. The walls of defense were going up. What little emotions she had left were at an exhausting point as Voldemort continued to drain her. The pain he caused just moments ago.

The pain…

She had felt it before.

At the ceremony.

It felt exactly the same. The same white, hot burning fire that rolled through her like a tsunami at the ceremony yesterday. When he used her blood for the first time.

I need you…

Next time…

Hermione's nails scraped through the hay into the stone floor below as her eyes went wide, her mouth went dry as the thoughts all started coming together. Her blood. Her blood was used in the ceremony to revive him. To send his body back in time. He needed her blood.

But for what?

With eye darting back and forth as if she could see her thoughts forming in front of her, she tried to connect the dots. Did he need it for strength? To keep up his appearance? Does his new body of a time limit? Will he waste away without it? Does it have to be her blood, or could it be any muggleborn's blood?

A thought struck her like lightening.

If she disappeared, would he die? Would his new body perish?

Only one way to find out…

Standing abruptly, Hermione desperately tried to find a way out for the millionth time, but as her eyes scanned the room, she realized how foolish she was being. Nothing had changed. She had already searched every square inch of the cell she currently inhabited and unless Voldemort left behind a key, which she assumed was extremely unlikely, she didn't have any new ways out.

Sighing with defeat, Hermione collapsed onto her hay pile and threw her arm over her eyes. Of all the ways to go in this world, being juiced like some fruit for Voldemort was not even remotely close on her list. Her thoughts drifted to Ron and Harry and what they must think at this point. Ron was devastated that at least she knew. He had continued carrying the torch for her this entire time, regardless of how cold and distant she had become over the last few years. No matter how she tried to change her perspective of him, she always felt the same.

Nothing.

And forcing intimacy with him would be wrong for everyone involved. She scoffed as she was sure Harry was relieved to be rid of her. Less bodies for him to be worried about… Although he was probably shaking in shoes about having to interrogate people now without her. Even though Harry, the Order, and her living quarters were pathetic and abysmal, Hermione missed them. It was definitely better than her current situation as a sitting duck.

Letting her arm fall to her side, she grimaced at the matted knot of hair that was currently behind her head. Hermione groaned as she sat up and lifted her sore arms to the back of her hand to work through the knot that had formed from the sweat, dirt, and Merlin knew what else was now soaking into her scalp. Moaning lowly, she worked her fingers to massage her scalp and started to braid what hair she could.

As her fingers slowly worked, her eyes fell to the hay underneath her. The thin, tan strands of straw that were scattered beneath her reminding her of long, blonde hair.

Her eyes widened; her breathing became shallow.

Hair…

I could braid this…

Letting go of her hair, she spread her palms out wide and started to spread the hay around her, grabbing onto the thin strands and bundling some of them together so that it was the length of her arm. The hay was damp enough to easily manipulate it and as she braided it, she added more to the ends to continue the chain. Making a rope. A strong rope as she pulled on it and the straw in her hands didn't stretch or pull apart.

Hermione had a chance. She finally had a chance!

Not at escaping.

But at making a weapon.

Crabbe slowly walked towards the dimly lit cell that held one, Hermione Granger. Slowly, not because of any injuries or mishaps on a mission, but because of his stature and awkwardness. He was never one to move swiftly or have good reflexes. Probably why he didn't get picked for missions and was basically resorted to being a house elf.

This morning, much to his disdain, he was ordered to bring the mudblood her breakfast which consisted of a single piece of bread and a tin cup filled with water. Setting the tray down on the ground, less than gently causing some of the water to spill on the bread slice, he took the cell key out of his pocket and unlocked the door which swung open with a loud creak. Picking the tray back up, he crossed the threshold into the cell and walked to the corner that was strangely dry. He knew that's where they usually kept hay piles for the prisoners, they captured but maybe they didn't want to give the mudblood the luxury.

Setting the tray down on the floor, he didn't get a chance to stand back up because a body jumped onto his back and pulled what felt like a rope around his neck, pulling tightly.

"Fuck!" Crabbe shouted out, trying to pull at the rope, but it was too thin for his fat fingers to fit around to get any leverage. All he heard was the mudblood grunting in his ears.

Hermione was pulling as hard as she could against his neck, using her knees to push into his back to get more strength in her leverage. Leaning forward she hissed in his ears.

"You are my ticket out of here."

They fell backwards in their struggle and unlike Voldemort's fit, lean body falling on her, Crabbe posed more a struggle with his size. When he landed on her, her grip almost slipped. Wrapping the rope double over her first, she continued tightening. His choking and gasping filling the room as his shoes scraped wildly against the floor, the metal tray clattering to the side as it got kicked. Hermione cast the sounds out of her mind as she felt the last bit of Crabbe's life in her hands as she refused to loosen her grip. He wasn't the kid in her classes, the stout boy that Ron impersonated in their second year. He was her way to freedom, her way to escape this hell and she had to take it.

Sweat dripped down her temple as her hands were red and bleeding from how tightly she was holding the rope in her hands, but slowly his kicking stopped, his fighting ceased, and she felt the looseness in his throat as he wasn't breathing anymore or struggling.

Hermione collapsed onto the ground breathing heavily, the rope still wrapped around one hand as she pushed Crabbe off of her. Standing up, she faced the door.

It was wide open.

Begging her to step through it.

She slowly walked towards it and cautiously stepped over the threshold.

Nothing happened.

No charms set off, no fires, no alarms.

But unlike the dream prison she was in when she first got here, she was positive this was still reality. She walked past the empty cells, her weapon of choice still firmly grasped in her hand, she approached the staircase that got her one step closer to being free.

The first step groaned under the weight of her and so did every step that followed. Holding her breath, she prayed that it wasn't loud enough to alert anyone. Pressing her ear against the door, she didn't hear anyone on the other side, but that didn't mean there wasn't anyone there.

With her free hand, she shakily grasped the doorknob and turned it, slowly, peering with one eye out of the crack.

No one was visible. Opening it wider, she took a daring step into the hallway and looked around the room she was in. Not a shiny marbled hallway thank Merlin…

It was a basic room that held only a few tables and one fireplace. Empty plates and glasses were scattered on the tables. She assumed it was a dining area of some sort and didn't want to wait and see if anyone was about to have dinner soon. Storming through the room, she opened the door across the way which revealed a long hallway that had multiple doors.

Well shit…

Which was the way out?

Inhaling deeply, her steps echoed as she walked down the hallway on high alert that at any moment, a Death Eater could walk through any of these doors and take her out. Their wand against her homemade rope.

Wonder what would win she laughed sarcastically to herself.

As she continued to walk, she heard grunting and moaning coming from one of the doors. Painful grunting and moaning. Walking to the door that it was coming from, she pressed her ear against the door and heard whoever was on the other side of the door crying and moaning in pain.

This is a mistake…

Hermione thought to herself as she opened the door.

It was a woman. A woman she didn't recognize in a cage that was similar to the one she was kept in prior to the ceremony. She was crying and her body was covered in bruises. Before Hermione could stop herself, she was walked quickly over to the woman and crouched down in front of her.

"Hey!" She quietly yelled to her," Can you hear me?"

The woman didn't look at her at first, choosing to keep her head in her arms that were cradling her. She had long, greasy black hair that hung around her limply, her clothes in tatters as they barely hung onto her bony frame.

"Hey!" Hermione seethed. This was not the time to be fucking around!

"I'm trying to help you!"

The woman glanced up at her through bruised eyes and Hermione could tell she was focusing on her carefully.

"Are you- Have you come to torture me some more?" The woman asked in a rough, strained voice.

Hermione shook her head quickly," No, no… How long have you been here? Who are you?"

"I don't remember time anymore", the woman sobbed loudly.

"Shh!" Hermione held up her hands to hush the hysterical woman," We have to be quiet. You don't want them to hear us."

"Them…" The woman hissed. Her body visibly got tighter as her eyes looked off into the distance like she could see a memory behind Hermione.

"They came in the night." The woman recited darkly," Like dark, smoky shadows falling from the heavens we used to pray to. They spread like a sickness and took us one by one."

Hermione was listening with rapt attention when the woman lunged for the bars in front of Hermione causing her to fall back in surprise. The woman's face was gaunt, her breath smelled of death and her teeth looked like they were about to fall out of her head.

"They have the power of God!" She warned Hermione, her eyes filled with fear. "They have power to make you do things, say things that you never would."

She motioned for Hermione to get closer with her finger and against her better judgement, Hermione leaned in slightly closer but still far enough for the woman not to touch her. The woman was had clearly gone mad in her time being captured and Hermione was sure she was no longer coherent or could distinguish realty.

"They're witches…" She hissed in a low tone. "Like Salem. The dark times are upon us, the plague is descending. Reckoning time is at hand!"

The woman started screaming and pulling on the bars.

"Let me out! Let me free!" She continued screaming.

"Shut the fuck up!" Hermione told her but it was no use. The woman was clearly gone and not worth saving at this point. She would only be lead weight around her ankle as she tried to escape, and Hermione couldn't afford any distractions.

"Witches, witches!"

Hermione stood and decided this was a lost cause. Just as she turned around to head out the door, she was stopped in her tracks.

"Well, well, well… Look at what we have here."

A Death Eater.

One she didn't recognize was blocking her only way out. A screaming banshee behind her and Death's minion in front of her.

What a choice…

The Death Eater didn't look much older than her and she would suspect he was probably only a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts. He was maskless revealing his dirty covered face and stained teeth that were framed in a sadistic smile that was aimed at her.

"Looks like I get to kill the Golden Girl", he took a step closer to her and Hermione took one back towards the small cage that held the now moaning woman. At least the yelling stopped…

Lowering the rope so it was dangling in her hand, Hermione got into a defensive position.

"If you let me go, I won't have to kill you."

The man laughed loudly at her," And what are you going to do? Whip me with that shoelace you have?"

"If I have to."

In the same second the man reached into his robe to grab his wand; Hermione was lunging for him. Colliding into his chest, the man fell backwards, hitting his head and his back hard on the ground. Hermione caught herself on her feet that were on either side of him and positioned herself to her knees, using her arm to wrap the rope behind his neck into her free hand. With both ends in her hands, she crossed them tightly and began to choke him.

"Get the fuck off me you mudblood bitch!" He gasped out, his fingers going to the rope. He found no leverage and resorted to using his dirt lined nails to scratch at her eyes and face. Leaning back, she kept her eyes out of reach but could feel his nails scraping against her skin.

The tighter she pulled, the more she could feel the sea of rage thrashing inside of her. How fucking dare he come in here thinking he could kill her? How dare these fuckers capture her? How dare he take her blood, ravage her body, and leave her on the floor like a helpless victim. Because as she looked in the bulging eyes of the Death Eater below her struggling to breathe, she was anything, but a victim and she wanted him to know that. Take away her wand, she would still find a way to kill his Death Eaters.

The scraping of the shoes ceased, his arms fell to his side, and his tongue bulged out of his mouth while blood fell like tears out of his eyes. Standing on her feet, doing her best to ignore the rope burn in her hands, she grabbed his dark oak wand in her hands and felt a wash of relief come over her. Even if the wand would resist her, she finally had magic in her hands.

She was unstoppable now.

"Witch!"

Hermione turned to watch the woman start screaming again as she tried to claw at Hermione through the bars. Enough of this…

"Avada Kedavra."

The green flash disappeared as quickly as it appeared, taking the woman's life with it. The screaming stopped and now she could be in the heaven that she spoke of before. Free from being tortured, free from starvation.

An act of mercy some would say.

In truth, it felt so unbelievably good to cast her favorite spell again. Like itching a spot that had been itching for days. Maybe there was something wrong with her like Harry kept insisting, but she couldn't think about that right now. She had to get out of wherever here was.

Caution was thrown out the window now that she had a wand. Still not wanting to get rid of her rope, she tied the rope around her wrist that held her newly acquired wand and took off down the hallway at a full sprint.

"There she is!" She heard someone behind her. She didn't even get a chance to see their faces as she cast the spell behind her, the reply of bodies hitting the floor sounding like music to her ears.

Hermione kept running past door after door towards the end of the hallway that held an archway cloaked in darkness but as she approached it, she realized it was a dark cloth covering the opening like a drape. With her chest heaving from running, she took the wand and opened it slowly.

It was the main room.

The ceremony room.

Where it all had happened. Except now there was no one in the room. The pews were empty. The throne on the platform had no one occupying it. It was deserted. Hermione's footsteps echoed through the stone room as she slowly stepped through it. Sprinting through the hallway was one thing but last time she was in here, there were far more Death Eaters in here than even she could take.

As she was about to take her next step, a creaking above her got her attention. Looking up, her eyes immediately well in tears as her hand went to her mouth covering the inaudible gasp that was caught in her throat.

Bodies.

Bodies everywhere were hanging from their necks, hands, feet, waists… Some cages were hanging that she assumed held bodies. Her eyes recognized some and some were too decomposed to ever recognize again. In everything that had happened from the ceremony up until this point, she hadn't realized how many of the bodies there were.

"Monster…" Hermione whispered in horror."

"Hardly!"

Turning quickly, she saw him sauntering across the stage and stopping in front of his throne. He looked more refreshed than the last time she saw him. Like he had gotten a really good night's rest and had taken extra vitamins.

Vitamin me I suppose…

"I'm hardly the monster here", he splayed out his hands. "No more than you."

"What the fuck does that mean!" Hermione yelled out from her spot where she stood firm. "I am nothing like you."

"I think Crabbe would beg to differ."

Based on his reaction to his comment, she knew her face revealed something she didn't want to.

Horror.

Hermione never felt guilty about her killings, and she certainly didn't today. But that doesn't mean she was like him… Her kills were in the baby numbers compared to his. She had to kill because of him!"

"He stood in the way of my freedom." She told him, trying to keep her composure. "It was a necessary action."

"Like that woman prisoner you killed?" He tilted his head as he stepped down the steps slowly reaching the floor she was on.

"She would have blown my cover", Hermione replied coolly as she started to circle the room, keeping her distance from Voldemort as he walked in a circle opposite of her. With one wave of his wand, the pews scraped against the floor loudly and were cast into the walls behind them, clearing the floor as they circled each other.

"I must say…" Voldemort side eyed her, keeping his tempo to match hers. "I'll admit I'm impressed at your resourcefulness to make a weapon out of nothing."

He gestured with the long length of the Elder wand to the rope that was still tied around her wrist.

"I had to upgrade my weapon of choice", Hermione gestured to the wand in her hand," But it is so tempting to wrap this around your neck."

Voldemort said nothing as he smirked at her, still keeping the pace of their circling.

"Tell me…" Hermione looked at his figure carefully," What is it that my mudblood blood does for you?"

For the first time in Hermione was sure of all of history, Voldemort's face slightly fell. It was only for a second, but she didn't miss it. His aura went from being playful and coy to now outright hostile as a dark cloud covered the room, dread and anxiety now prickling at Hermione's skin.

"Beat me in a duel", Voldemort stopped pacing and faced her directly. "And I'll tell you."

"You really want to duel with me?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow, facing his as well.

"You didn't really think you were going to escape here so easily…" He smiled sardonically at her, raising his eyebrow in question. "Did you?"

"I suppose not." Hermione glowered. In a moment, the assumed their stances, wands raised, tension so thick she felt like she could see it in front of her.

"Don't disappoint me, mudblood."

"Do your worst, Tom."

A red spark flashed across the room.