Bound by Fate

Chapter 1: On the Run

The night was suffocating. The air was thick with humidity, sticking to Hermione's skin like a second layer as she crouched low in the underbrush. She could hear them—Death Eaters, patrolling the woods, closing in on her position. The crackle of twigs underfoot, the low murmur of voices, sent a sharp pulse of adrenaline through her veins. She clutched her wand tighter, barely able to feel its familiar weight through the trembling of her hands.

She had been running for what felt like weeks. Since the last safe house was raided, since the last familiar face fell under the curse of Voldemort's regime, she hadn't stopped. She hadn't had time to think, to grieve, to breathe. It was just run, hide, and survive.

Survive. That's what she'd promised Harry. What she'd whispered into his ear when they had been separated in the final, chaotic moments of the battle at Hogwarts. She didn't even know if he was alive. But she was. Barely.

A twig snapped, far too close. Hermione froze, flattening herself to the ground, barely daring to breathe. She could feel the tremor of footsteps in the earth, could hear the murmured conversation of the two Death Eaters just beyond her hiding spot.

"Spread out. She can't have gone far."

The voice was cold and commanding, and Hermione's heart pounded painfully in her chest. They were getting smarter, more ruthless in their hunts. Every time she had barely slipped away, but they were closing the net now. This time felt different.

Sweat dripped down her brow, mingling with the dirt smudged across her skin. She bit her lip, forcing herself to stay calm. Think, Hermione. Think.

There was a river about a mile west. If she could make it there, she might lose them in the water. The noise of the current would mask her movements, and they wouldn't be able to track her scent. But it was a long shot.

A long shot was all she had.

When the footsteps receded just enough, Hermione sprang up and bolted. Her body screamed in protest, every muscle strained to its limit from exhaustion and hunger. But she couldn't stop. Not now.

Branches scratched at her skin, tearing at the thin fabric of her cloak, but she barely noticed. The only thing that mattered was the river. Just a little further. Just keep running.

She could hear them behind her now, shouting as they caught sight of her fleeing form. They were gaining. The gap was closing.

"Stupefy!"

A flash of red light zipped past her shoulder, missing by inches. Hermione didn't slow, didn't look back. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her lungs burning from the exertion. She forced herself to keep moving, to push through the pain.

Another spell cracked through the air, hitting the tree beside her. Splinters exploded in her face, cutting into her cheek, but she didn't falter. The river—she could hear it now, the rushing water like salvation in the distance. She was close. So close.

"Expulso!"

The ground erupted beneath her feet, and Hermione was thrown forward, her body hitting the earth hard. The wind was knocked from her lungs, and for a moment, she couldn't move. Pain shot through her side where she had landed, but she gritted her teeth, forcing herself up.

But it was too late.

Before she could rise, a heavy boot pressed down on her back, pinning her to the ground. Hermione struggled, trying to reach for her wand, but a second foot kicked it out of her grasp, sending it skittering into the underbrush.

"No more running, Mudblood."

Hermione felt the cold edge of a wand pressed against her temple, and she closed her eyes. The game was over. She had lost. She braced herself for the curse, for the end—but it didn't come.

Instead, the Death Eater laughed, a cruel, guttural sound that sent shivers down her spine.

"You're coming with us. Lucius Malfoy's been looking for you."

Hermione's heart sank, dread pooling in her stomach like lead. Lucius Malfoy. She knew what that meant. She had heard the stories, the horrors of what he did to captured prisoners, especially those like her—Mudbloods, rebels, those who dared defy the Dark Lord. Death would have been a mercy compared to what awaited her in Malfoy Manor.

She was yanked to her feet, her arms twisted painfully behind her back as rough ropes bound her wrists. Hermione fought, kicking and struggling against the man's grip, but her strength was nothing compared to his brute force.

"Keep fighting. Makes it more fun," he sneered, tightening the ropes so hard that they cut into her skin. Hermione bit back a cry, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

They dragged her toward the edge of the forest, where more Death Eaters waited. She recognized one of them—Thorfinn Rowle, his hulking form unmistakable. He grinned when he saw her, flashing yellowed teeth.

"Well, well. What a prize," Rowle said, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back. "Lucius is going to enjoy breaking you."

Hermione glared at him through the strands of hair that had fallen into her face. "Fuck you."

Rowle's grin widened, and he shoved her roughly toward another Death Eater. "Let's not keep him waiting."

They pulled her through the trees, toward the waiting figure of a tall, silver-haired man. Lucius Malfoy stood in the shadows, his cold eyes glinting in the pale moonlight. His expression was one of amusement as he watched her being dragged toward him, as though this was all some kind of sport.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze. She forced herself to stand tall, despite the terror gnawing at her insides. She would not let them see her fear. She would not give them the satisfaction.

Lucius stepped forward, his wand lazily twirling in his hand. "Miss Granger," he said, his voice dripping with false politeness. "What a pleasure it is to finally make your acquaintance. I've heard so much about you."

Hermione stayed silent, her jaw clenched.

"Nothing to say?" Lucius tilted his head, smirking. "I see. You've always been such a fighter. But here..." He gestured to the towering manor in the distance, its silhouette looming ominously against the night sky. "Here, you will learn your place."

The Death Eaters laughed, their cruel voices echoing around her. Hermione's pulse pounded in her ears, but she kept her face blank, refusing to show any weakness.

"Take her inside," Lucius ordered with a wave of his hand. "I'll deal with her soon enough."

The men pulled her forward, and Hermione dug her heels into the ground, fighting against their grip. But it was useless. They were too strong, and she was too tired.

As they dragged her toward the gates of Malfoy Manor, a single thought ran through her mind, cold and bitter as the night air.

I survived the war for this.

And for the first time, Hermione wasn't sure if she wanted to survive what came next.