𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒 | HPau

─ ⁰⁸. DON'T YOU THINK, BELLA?

The drawing room dazzled after the darkness outside; it was huge. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and more portraits against the dark purple walls. Lucius and Draco rose from chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as the prisoners were forced into the room by the Snatchers.

"What is this?"

The dreadfully familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on Hermione's ears.

"They say they've got Potter," said Narcissa's cold voice. "Draco, come here."

Hermione did not make a move, she merely looked down making her hair cover her face in order to not draw attention to herself. She saw from the corner of her eye as Greyback forced the prisoners to turn again so as to place Harry directly beneath the chandelier.

"Well, boy?" rasped the werewolf.

"Well, Draco?" Hermione heard Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

"I can't—I can't be sure," said Draco. He was keeping his distance from Greyback.

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!"

"Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv—"

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback menacingly.

"Of course not, of course not!" said Lucius impatiently. Hermione heard as Lucius Malfoy walked towards Harry and her breath hitched slightly.

"What did you do to him?" Lucius asked Greyback. "How did he get into this state?"

"That wasn't us."

"Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me," said Lucius.

"There's something there," he whispered and Hermione figured he was looking at Harry's forehead. "It could be the scar, stretched tight...."

"Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"

"I don't know," he said, and Hermione took a peek and saw as he walked away toward the fireplace where his mother stood watching.

"We had better be certain, Lucius," Narcissa called to her husband in her cold, clear voice. "Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord... They say this is his" ¨—she was looking closely at the blackthorn wand— "but it does not resemble Ollivander's description... If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing... Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?"

"What about Black, then?" growled Greyback. Harry was nearly thrown off his feet as the Snatchers forced the prisoners to swivel around again so that the light fell on Hermione instead.

Hermione's head was pulled up, revealing her face in the light of the chandelier as Greyback grabbed her head.

She clenched her jaw and saw both Narcissa and Draco hesitate. Lucius Malfoy didn't. He took a stride her way, his eyes glinting.

"It is her, we have Hermione Black!" he shouted, and then his eyes widened as walked over to face Ron. "But then, that's the Weasley boy! It's them, Potter's friends—Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name—"

"Yeah," said Draco again, his back to the prisoners. "It could be."

The drawing room door opened. A woman spoke, and the sound of the voice made Hermione's blood boil.

"What is this? What's happened, Cissy?"

Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly around the prisoners, and stopped, staring at Hermione through her heavily lidded eyes, "But surely," she said quietly a grin falling on her face, "Little Miss Black has graced us with her presence."