"George Weasley was one half of the cleverest, trickiest pair I'd ever encountered," she said. "Even if I had an idea of where he'd go, I'd be wrong." A slow smile spread up her lips. "I'm quite pleased to inform you that if George Weasley escaped, you'll never see him again."

Red eyes narrowed at her. She anticipated the Cruciatus Curse.

Something slammed into her face, stinging her cheek and snapping her neck to the side. She stumbled, gaining balance and pressing her hand to her face. Her eyes rocked in their sockets.

She looked back, searching for the weapon, preparing for another strike. Her eyes refocused as Draco lowered his hand, a ring on his thumb glinting at her. Her lip wet with blood.

He'd backhanded her. He'd hit her, and she was bleeding.

"Watch your mouth. You are addressing your Lord."

His voice shivered her, and she looked away from his icy eyes.

Voldemort chuckled, a sound like stinging knives. "I'll just take a look for myself, Mudblood."

He stood and slithered toward her. She stood frozen as he circled her, coming around to her front again and leaning into her face. She looked into his red eyes, pulled to them almost inexorably.

And then there were daggers in her brain, sinking into her eyes and twisting deep. She couldn't breathe as memories floated through her head, yanked forward and pushed back.

She saw George with a sharp stinging pain. His head bleeding where his ear had been, smiling up at his twin.

Like a rubber band snapped inside of her, and then George was thirteen, smacking Bludgers with his brother on the Quidditch field.

A ricochet to the Burrow, and Molly Weasley stood before her, washing dishes.

"My Aunt Muriel—"

And like a whip cracking across her mind, she jerked to see Ludo Bagman speaking to the twins at the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione sat with Harry, staring around at the other tents and parties.

A moment of stillness as Voldemort's consciousness slithered through the moment, twisting around Ludo Bagman and examining him. In pause, Hermione turned her mind to Harry, watching his easy smile from years ago—

Wrenched through waves of memories and images, and then Hermione was in the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, running down to the stands as Harry held George Weasley back from launching at someone.

She saw Draco, sneering and laughing on the field. And then he was tackled to the ground as George and Harry dove for him. A tangle of limbs, and Hermione ran down the stairs, cringing at the sound of knuckles against jaws and eyes.

She felt a dark joy swimming next to her as Voldemort watched Draco, Harry, and George scuffle. As Madam Hooch separated them, Hermione remembered checking Harry and George for injuries first, and then her eyes sliding to Draco, curled in on himself, fighting for air.

And even knowing that Draco had purposefully provoked the fight had not squashed Hermione's interest in his well-being. She watched as Harry and George were carted off the field, and lingered to see if someone was checking on the bloodied body on the grass.