Obliviate

Chapter Nine | Ministry of Magical Affairs

Hermione walked quietly behind Draco to the Chamber of Secrets, allowing him to open the entrance of Voldemort's personal cave.

She wished he would just rot away down there.

The Parceltongue slithered off his lips as though he were a snake in disguise. Hermione had gathered that no matter what Draco Malfoy looked like on the outside, he would always be a serpent on the inside.

The pair walked throughout the main entrance, and straight down a passageway to the main room where Hermione had taken part in many meetings with the Dark Lord.

It smelt stale.

The air was so thick down in the Chamber of Secrets that Hermione was struggling to breathe - more than normal. She steadied her breathing - small and quick breaths. If she breathed too hard, she'd go into a coughing fit. Hermione felt like she was choking on mould.

Draco lightly knocked on the door and pushed it open, revealing Lord Voldemort seated at the head of the table. He looked proud, Hermione thought.

"Ah, Malfoy my boy," he breathed out at Draco, gently pushing a seat out from under the table and grinning at him - revealing his putrid teeth.

"My Lord," the young Malfoy responded sharply, lowering his head in a welcoming gesture. Draco walked over to the seat beside Voldemort and sat himself down.

Hermione uncomfortably followed Draco, standing against the wall as she watched the both of them turn to stare at her as she stood looking back at them with cold eyes.

The Dark Lord fixed his gaze very firmly on Hermione - she could feel the beads of sweat collecting at the nape of her neck.

"Don't be silly Granger, do take a seat," he rasped out, pushing the seat on his free side away from under the table, ushering Hermione to sit.

Hermione stalked around the table, and slipped herself into the rich leather. She was surprised the leather hadn't rotted away down there, like everything other thing. It smelt sour. Like the air alone was enough to make her vomit.

She shook the thoughts from her mind as she took a deep breath in through her nose.

"Thank you, my Lord," Hermione said, shooting him a small smile. She was certain he could smell the fear oozing from her.

"Yes..." Was all Voldemort managed to reply to her, dull and emotionless. Slowly, he brought his gaze over to Draco, who was now seated opposite Hermione, studying her.

"You wished to see me before departure, my Lord?" Draco hesitantly asked, tilting his head back slightly. His jawline appeared prominent, and Hermione stared at it - piecing it together with her favourite children's book.

Sleeping beauty - when she pricked her finger on the spinning wheel, she died. If she would let Draco anywhere near her - even if it was for one split second - she'd be sure to die at his hand.

He was a Death Eater of course - nothing like the boy from school.

Draco was the poison apple in her own Disney story.

Although, Hermione couldn't really judge him; she indeed had turned to aid Lord Voldemort in his pursuit to power also. At least Draco had never switched sides. Loyal. Hermione was not.

She still questioned her loyalty sometimes - yet if the thought ever arose, she'd push it to the dark crevices in her mind, where she'd not think of them again. Like pushing the door closed on one thought, it opened the door to another.

Like the butterfly effect - every single thing Hermione thought or took part in lead to another. Her mind was scurrying as she sat watching them silently. She nervously counted her fingers under the table.