The Hunter And The Haunted

Part 14

"Oh, Astoria!" Narcissa Malfoy embraced her in the middle of the grand hallway of Malfoy Manor. It reeked of elegance and wealth, from its crystal chandelier to its ornate furniture and even the carpet below her aching feet, now fitted into pretty heels of course.

"It's good to see that you have returned to us. I was so worried when you and Draco broke up."

Keep looking like the idiot you are and nod, hissed Draco's voice in her mind.

The locket had given him more power than she could comprehend. Perhaps she would sit with Athena and ask her more about Ilvermorny and the magic she'd used to solidify a potion and what blood magic the Hounds had used to enable this control Draco had on her.

He was probably a legilimens too.

Narcissa chatted away lively to Hermione, apparently used to the lack of a response from "Astoria", as she lead them into a large dining hall where Hermione spotted more familiar faces taking their places down a large mahogany table. All of them had been Slytherins; some old enough to have fought alongside Voldermort in the first war, some that had been in her year at Hogwarts and a few from the years below her.

Theodore and Lisa moved to take their seats between the Slytherins and the Malfoy family. Narcissa sat down on the right side of the head table and Lucius Malfoy took his seat beside his wife. He was older than she had seen him last, supporting himself more heavily on the black lacquer cane had had always used, but his eyes were as sharp and cold as ever as they bore into her even as he conversed with his wife. Draco was seated on the left to the head, with Hermione beside him and Athena on her other side.

Hermione felt like a mouse in a pit of vipers.

The doors swung open and silence fell as Bellatrix Lestrange strode in with her wild hair dancing behind her and that half-crazed look glinting in her eyes.

Instinctively Hermione's hand jumped at the scar hidden under the illusion and the long sleeve of the dress. But Athena's hand sneaked into her lap under the table and tugged it away, all the while keeping a straight face as she faced the lady of the table. Every face at the table looked at Bellatrix with the same silent, fearful reverence.

Bellatrix looks around with a smile that tore through her wicked face from ear to ear.

"Before we begin, we have to acknowledge the loss of our great hunting grounds. Ruined by nothing but a filthy Mudblood. A plague to the wizarding world," She hissed and spat before she plucked a cherry from her cocktail and swallowed it whole, stem and all.

"At least we can rejoice in the fact that darling Draco had rid us of this Hermione Granger. Although, I would have loved tearing her up myself." Bellatrix turned to Draco.

"Tell me that you did me proud?" she reached out and a long nail, painted black, stroked along the top of Draco's hand.

Draco smirked back at his aunt, unfazed.

"I slit her organs while she watched and then let her bleed out slowly. Which is why I took a while to return, Aunt. Bitch took two days to die."

Knots formed in Hermione's stomach. She looked down at the tomato soup before her in the elegant French china, but all she could see is blood.

Blood, blood, blood...

Blood pouring down her face...

Blood pouring out of Arthur Turpin's empty eye sockets...

Blood gushing out of Molly Weasley's mouth...

Bellatrix's voice dragged its talons down her ears, "If only I could have enjoyed it with you," She said in an oddly sharp, but melancholy note.

Draco poured wine into his goblet but didn't answer.

"I would have carved her sins into her skin, before I let her die," Bellatrix's voice became a soft, deadly purr. On her other side, Athena stilled. Draco held his aunt's gaze as he raised the goblet to his lips, unfazed.

The rest of the dining hall held their breath.

"You knew I'd enjoy it, Draco," Her voice dripping in honey and venom, "You know how much I enjoyed carving her arm up back then."

Draco tipped his goblet back and set it back on the table, running his thumb over his lips. Eyes boring into her own. Bellatrix smirked. Malfoy Manor was Draco's birthright, even if Bellatrix treated it like her palace. He wouldn't waver, wouldn't falter, wouldn't fear-

"Athena, stand up. Come here," Bellatrix's voice was a sword from the iron forge slicing through the tension in the room.

Athena held her head up proudly, not a hair out of place in the elaborate updo, as she rose to her feet, gliding like a mistress of darkness in her long-sleeved high-neck lace and satin black dress. She stood between Bellatrix and Draco, a foot behind the table.

Draco simply tilted his head, his finger on his chin as he looked at his aunt, bored, his long silvery blonde hair catching the crystal chandelier's glowing light.

"The Cruciatus Curse, Draco. On your cousin. And maybe next time you'll consult me before you kill someone important from Hogwarts," Bellatrix's eyes gleamed triumphantly.

A heartbeat passed.

Hermione didn't even see Draco cast the spell.

She didn't hear it either.

But, Athena screamed out in agony, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she sank to her knees.

Draco didn't flinch; didn't look away from Bellatrix.

Everyone else at the table winced as if they shared the pain of the girl letting out her tortured wails.

"Good boy, that's enough."

All at once the screaming stopped, but Athena was still on her knees, drawing in heavy, broken breaths through her parted lips.

The grating of a chair being pushed back and a tall figure strode over to her, pulling her to her feet; Theodore took her back to her seat and sat her down beside Hermione before he returned to his seat.

Athena's lips were still parted, her body shuddering, her eyes glazed and she steadied her breath, looking down at her soup.

Hermione wondered if this was not the first time Athena was subject to torture in public. A pang of pity surged in her heart as she observed the girl beside her, but even as she thought of reaching out and holding the girl's hand, Draco's voice seethed into her mind,

"Do. Not. Touch. Her."

Hermione gritted her teeth and tried to imagine a vulgar gesture in her head. She could swear she almost heard a chuckle back.

The rest of the dinner passed with no more incidents; one of the other attendants, an older death eater, stood and reported on their attacks on a muggle village.

Bellatrix was pleased with the sound of dead muggles and a burnt-down orphanage.

Dinner looked delicious. Partridge, potatoes and pears. Steaming pudding. But Hermione could barely eat, stabbing at the same piece of potato repeatedly, glancing occasionally at Bellatrix who devoured a small pile of food on her plate.

At the corner of her eyes, however, she noticed that the companions on her either side had clean untouched plates.