“Wake up, Mudblood!”
Hermione groaned as she felt a foot violently collide with her ribs. She jerked her eyes open and forced herself to sit up. She fought a wave of nausea from the rapid movement. Looking up, she was momentarily blinded by bright wandlight.
“She was really out cold. What’d you do to her, Parkinson?” came a squeaky male voice.
“Nothing, of course. I’m not stupid, you know,” she snidely replied.
Hermione’s eyes slowly adjusted to the light. She’d recognized Pansy’s voice before she’d seen her but hadn’t been able to place the male voice. Suddenly, the man kneeled down before her and leered into her face.
“Hullo, Hermione Granger. Recognize an old friend?” he taunted. Instinctively, Hermione moved backwards, only to find herself trapped against the dungeon wall.
“Peter Petigrew. Amazing that you’re still alive. I would have thought your usefulness was long since dried up,” Hermione croaked. Her raspy words hung ungracefully between them. But her mocking tone seemed to snap Peter back to life. With a swift movement, he backhanded her across the face.
Hermione slammed painfully against the wall, her tongue tasting blood in her mouth. She laughed at her two enraged captors standing in front of her, a plan formulating in her mind.
“Well, if that’s all there is maybe you two lackeys would be so kind as to let me get back to sleep,” Hermione said with a scornful grin.
Peter pulled his fist back to hit her once again though this time, Pansy stopped him.
“Listen to me, you filthy animal. You’re lucky right now. We’re not going to kill you- which is what you and all your kind deserve! No, your blood, as it turns out, has become rather valuable. So we need it all- every disgusting drop,” Pansy sneered.
Pansy was still holding onto Peter’s arm. He finally wrenched away from her grasp, though he continued to kneel in front of Hermione.
“What makes you think I won’t spill it myself, Parkinson?” Hermione asked.
“Because if you do, Granger, I will personally kill those you love the most,” Peter threatened. Hermione shuddered involuntarily, her mind racing with thoughts of Louisa and Draco.
Peter noticed her reaction and laughed.
“That’s right, be scared, witch. Because I'll kill Potter and even Weasley, my old keeper,” he said, still laughing. “All we have to do is let them know where you are- or rather, where we’d like them to look for you. Perfect, eh?” With that, he got to his feet.
Hermione forced herself to remain impassive until she could properly focus on the implications of what Peter had said. Another poorly wrapped food parcel and flask of liquid dropped into her lap.
“Eat up, Mudblood. You need your strength,” Pansy mocked. With a wave of her wand, a door materialized in the stone wall to Hermione’s right. It slowly creaked open and Hermione immediately identified the room’s usage by the foul smell now invading the dungeon.
Peter and Pansy both laughed at Hermione’s evident disgust.
“What’s a matter? Think you’re too filthy to use a pureblood’s toilet- even if it is for prisoners? Well, I agree with you, bitch- you are too repulsive for anything of mine!” Pansy cackled.
The stench was so overpowering that Hermione had to actively control her desire to wretch. She pushed the food parcels over to her side and moved onto her hands and knees, feeling the beginnings of dry heaves convulse in her chest. Her two captors were beside themselves with glee at her obvious discomfort.
“Ha! Know this, filth. You’ll have the chance to rise above your station,” Peter smirked. Hermione looked up at him, her dry heaves wracking her shoulders. He continued, snickering, “Your blood will bring back the Dark Lord. You should be honored!”
“Ron and Harry are too smart for you- and I promise I will spill my own blood before I let you use it for that murderer,” Hermione sputtered, between heaves. She was desperately fighting to regain control of her body.
Pansy gave her another brutal kick in the ribs. This time, Hermione distinctly felt a sharp crack. She rolled onto the floor, wrapping her arms protectively around her chest.
“I am the only one who will be draining your blood,” Pansy said, her tone now deadly calm. She grabbed Peter’s arm and steered him towards the door out of the dungeon. From her position on the floor, Hermione watched as Pansy muttered an unlocking charm. Before the door closed, Hermione heard Pansy complain sharply to Peter: “Let’s go, Wormtail. She- er “ they will be here any minute now- and I don’t fancy keeping crazy people waiting!”
The door closed and Hermione was thrust back into darkness. As she lay on the floor, her mind reeled to understand all the information implicit in what Peter and Pansy had said.
Most importantly, they don’t know about my connection to Draco and Louisa- they thought Harry and Ron were the only people who make me vulnerable, she mused. She took deep breaths, trying to recall all that had been said. The stench was still overpowering, though, so taking deep breaths brought back waves of nausea. Slowly she got on all fours and crawled towards the bathroom. She closed the door and crawled away as quickly as she could manage. Finally, some of the foul air dissipated and she forced herself back into contemplation.
“Pansy said this was a pureblood’s toilet- that it was hers- and she knew the unlocking spell for the dungeon- this has got to be her house,” she whispered to herself. She sighed, her hands running over what she knew was a cracked rib.
What else? she thought, her tongue still tasting blood on her lips. My blood seems to be particularly important, she thought ruefully. Imagine that- Pansy Parkinson needs my ‘tainted blood’ to resurrect Voldemort. Hermione gasped. Her thoughts rushed in, crowding her mind- ancient birth ritual spells, Dumbledore’s theory about Louisa’s purpose, beautiful memories of the first night she saw Louisa, and darker recollections of a duel that left a huge bloody gash on her own arm.
“Oh!” she exclaimed into the oppressive blackness of the dungeon. For it all made sense. She knew then why her blood was needed.
Louisa was her child.
And to complete the resurrection, the blood of the mother would be needed once again.
She shrieked into the darkness, knowing what she now had to do to keep Louisa safe with Draco- and desperately hoping Harry and Ron would find her before it was too late.