She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but was distracted by the sight of Lucius wrenching the front door open. He peered down the stone drive, still wearing the same clothes from the previous memory — it was the same day. His face was even paler than before.

Glancing over her shoulder, she found Draco standing behind her. He was staring at the floor, as white as his father.

Hermione frowned. What memory was this?

"Draco—"

A crack spliced through the sky, and Hermione jumped. She looked out into the clear evening and found a cloaked figure gliding through the Manor gates.

Voldemort.

Realization hit her like a blow to the gut. She whipped around and saw Draco curling his fists, his shoulders curving inwards on himself.

Before she could think over the panic in her chest, Voldemort was slithering up the steps to the Manor and meeting Lucius in the doorway.

"My Lord." Lucius bowed. "Welcome to the Manor—"

Voldemort raised his hand, silencing him. "Fetch your Mudblood, Lucius."

Lucius inclined his head and led Voldemort into the drawing room. Hermione reached for Draco at the same time he reached for her. His hand was damp in her grip.

"We don't have to watch this." He swallowed, his grey eyes slightly clouded. "I didn't last time. I can skip it forward—"

She jerked a nod. He waved his wand and they found themselves in the drawing room. Hermione went rigid as she watched the other Draco drag her broken body off the floor, tugging her towards the door.

The real Draco interlaced their fingers, and the pressure steadied her.

Voldemort stood at the window, his gaze distant.

Lucius's eyes flickered from the door to Voldemort. "My Lord. I would like to be of assistance."

The drawing room door clicked closed, and Hermione felt like a tomb had sealed them in. Her vision blurred, knowing that at this moment, Narcissa was taking her upstairs, to her ruined bedroom.

Swallowing, she quieted her mind and refocused on the task at hand.

Voldemort had come to search her mind for information about Horcruxes. Whatever he'd learned from Goyle had driven him to seek her out.

Finally, Voldemort tilted his pale head at the window. Lucius cleared his throat, and his hands shook once as he clasped them behind his back.

"My Lord, I know there have been times in the past when I have failed you. But I hope my devotion to serving you and the Great Order has allowed me to regain your trust." He took a deep breath. "If I am correct... perhaps you once trusted me with something of this sort." Hermione watched his fingers clench. "With a diary."

Her lips parted and a chill raced down her spine.

Slowly and deliberately, Voldemort turned from the window. And even though she knew Lucius had survived this moment, her heart seized in terror for him.

"'Assistance?'" His face was unreadable, but the hiss shivered through the room. There was the slightest twitch to Lucius's shoulders.