The Unexpected Traitor
Hermione looked around the Burrow in horror. It was completely trashed, furniture broken and scattered everywhere. The coffee table was broken in half, the couches torn and toppled over. All around, knick-knacks sprawled across the floor, shattered.
"They must have taken them." Draco muttered, picking up what looked like McGonagall's wand.
Hermione felt tears prick her eyes as she picked up a smashed photograph which showed the entire Weaseley clan in Egypt on their vacation, all of them laughing away merrily and without a care or worry in the world.
Oh if only they could go back to such happy and simple times…
"…must've ambushed them." She could make out Draco saying somewhere behind her.
"No, that's not possible." Hermione countered, turning around as she clutched the photo-frame and furrowed her eyebrows at Draco.
Draco merely cocked an eyebrow in reply.
"I distinctly remember McGonagall telling me how they cast every protective charm in the book around the Burrow. If Death Eaters could enter and get them, it could only happen if someone on the inside broke the protective charms."
"What exactly are you implying Granger?"
Hermione sighed and glanced back down at the photo-frame, where her favourite red-heads were grinning up at her.
"We've been betrayed by one of our own."
You can run. You can hide. But you'll never succeed, foolish traitor.
Draco stared at his little slip of fortune as Hermione and he sat facing each other at the dining table, which strangely enough was the only set of furniture still intact.
This was bad.
"What did your fortune say?"
You can run. You can hide. But you'll never succeed, filthy mudblood.
"The same thing." Hermione sighed.
"So now what?" Draco huffed, running a hand through his hair.
"Should we try to find them?" Hermione bit her lip.
"Oh yes, let's just waltz into Malfoy Manor where all the death eaters will be and go up to Voldy and ask him if he has a bunch of red-head weasels and an old cat."
"Well that was how stupid it sounded! They're probably in Voldy's capture. Which means it would be suicide trying to save them if they are even alive."
"So you're saying we should just leave all of them? Abandon them?!" Hermione shrieked, her temper flaring up.
This was practically her family!
"I'm saying we need to continue with our mission." Draco glared stonily at her, square in the eyes.
"And you know where the second coin is, or any idea how we can even begin trying to find it?" Hermione answered haughtily.
"Well one would think you would know the answers to those questions, miss brightest-witch-of-her-age." Draco sarcastically snarled.
"Well…I…" Hermione cursed herself in her mind for not being able to come up with a sharp, witty reply that would put this little ferret in his place.
"Exactly. Now would you just stop being such an annoying little Gryffindor and listen. I don't know where the second coin is, but I sure as hell know we can't stay here. But there is a place we can go. A completely safe place, where no one will be able to find us."
Hermione sceptically looked at Draco as he stood up and waited for her to take his arm.
"I promise I'm not going to lead us right into the arms of Voldemort, now come on!" Draco impatiently snapped.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione stood and grabbed his arm.
"What's a bloke got to do to get some decent food around here?" Ron called out to the Death Eater guarding the cell, gripping onto the rough iron bars.
"Shut up." The guard just snarled in reply and sank lower into his chair, closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.
"Prick." Ron huffed under his breath.
He was bloody starving!
"One week and just a soggy roll of bread, ridiculous." Ron huffed and kicked the remnants of the soggy bread away in disgust.
He turned around to find Harry sitting on the raised stone platform of the cell, leaned over with his elbows on his knees as he wrung his hands and his eyes darted around the floor in deep thought.
The cell was the epitome of the phrase "dark and dingy". It was cold, not just physically, but it made you feel like there was no more warmth in the world at all...no more good. There wasn't even a window, so the air was stagnant and stale, like the bloody bread.
Harry looked up at Ron through his circular glasses, worry and confusion etched on his tired and pale face.
"It's been one week Ron. One week in Voldemort's capture. And we're still alive. Something's definitely wrong." Harry muttered before looking down at the floor again.
In the one week they tried all means of escaping, but failed each and every time.
Bloody cell had an anti-apparition spell as well.
"You should be glad mate." Ron replied, taking a seat besides Harry.
"No, you don't get it. Voldemort could have easily killed us by now, he hasn't. He's keeping us alive for some reason."
There was a pause, for Ron didn't really know what to reply. After a while, he decided a change of the topic would be better, well, sort of.
"How do you think Hermione is doing?"
Harry remained quiet for a while, his eyes never leaving the floor, but Ron noticed his jaw clench birefly for a moment.
"I reckon she's alright. It's Hermione, she knows to take care of herself. She's strong enough."
Ron chuckled, remembered just how much of a spitfire she was.
Just then, footsteps and shouts could be heard from outside the dungeon, and suddenly the door swung open.
"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed as both him and Harry jumped to their feet.
"Get in there bloody weasels!" 3 Death Eaters shouted as they shoved Fred, George, Molly and Arthur into a cell adjacent to Harry's and Ron's.
"Ron! Harry! You 2 are alive!" Molly exclaimed in relief as she stretched through the connecting bars and cupped Ron's cheek.
"Mum! Dad! Fred! George!" Ron just spluttered, somewhat in shock, relief and confusion.
"What are you all doing here?!" Harry questioned, though a little happy at the same time to see them alive and sound.
Before they could reply though, a dark laugh rang through the dungeon.
"That would be my doing."
Everyone turned to the entrance of the dungeon to see a figure at the door, and all at once they froze in shock, rage, hurt and disbelief.
Harry took a shaky step forward, refusing to belief what was inevitably in front of his eyes.