DEVOTED | dramione ✓

| Eleven

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11

T H E

W O L V E S

D E N

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THEY ARE WAITING IN THE DINING ROOM. Like hungry dogs, the Dark Lord's cronies lick their lips at the sight of a roughed up Hermione Granger, and without Voldemort present, they don't have to hide their true intentions.

"Aye, girl," Fenrir Greyback shouts from his seat, adjusting himself just so, revealing the hairy chest under his half-open shirt. "Let me lick your wounds." He howls, then laughter comes booming out of the monsterous man. The others join in.

Hermione ignores them, looking to Severus who is silent about Greyback's commentary.

"Where is the Dark Lord?"

He shrugs after a moment of silence.

Angry at the behavior of her comrades, she leaves the room to find Voldemort on her own, which doesn't take long. Her assumption is correct, and he's waiting for her in his study, a large library with a desk at one end and sofas by the hearth. There is a large fire burning, and the sweet scent of tea lingers in the air, but she knows this will not be a friendly interaction.

His eyes have been on her since she entered the room, dark and starving for evidence that he is right about her. It frightens her, making her look at the floor ahead, but when she finally approaches his desk, he demands her attention.

"Look at me, Hermione." His voice is warm velvet, smooth and comforting, despite the words or implications that may occur if she doesn't obey.

She forces her eyes to meet his, and instantly her knees sway.

"My Lord -"

He raises a hand to stop her.

"Where is he?" His dark eyes study her, calculating her reactions, most likely diving deep into her mind despite her efforts to stop him.

"Tell me what you found at the Manor," he continues coolly. "Anything helpful to our cause?"

For a moment, she wonders if he knows everything, but she doesn't want to give up just yet.

"Not particularly. It was obvious that people had been there recently, and I waited, but no one attempted entry while I was there." Her eyes dart to his desk where there are several handwritten letters spread out. Voldemort still has his quill in his hand. She only has time to see that her own name is written amongst the other words.

"I've put a lot of time and effort into your development, Hermione. To make sure you get what you deserve for helping me complete my goal of curing the Wizarding World of its little problem. The least I've asked for is simple loyalty. It's what I'd expect as the one who has given you everything you could have ever asked for."

"I know," she says quietly. "It has never been my intention to disappoint you, sir. You've given me more than I can ever hope to repay, and I have always vowed to spend the entirety of my life serving you and our new world. Please, give me another chance to track him down, and the others, as well. I won't return until I've brought them all home, and if I don't then please stop me from further being a nuisance to our cause." She drops to her knees before him, and finally she no longer has to look into those dark eyes. She can breathe.

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