This was written for the Darkness Reigns Fest in the Death Eater Groupies FB group.

The world needs more Death Eaters...in fanfiction 😬

A huge Thank you goes to Lunamionny for being an awesome Beta.

Below is the prompt that inspired this:

During the final battle, Rodolphus refuses to allow anything to happen to Hermione. He's fought too long and hard to see her die, even though she might not yet realize it. He's her saviour.

May 2nd, 1998

She couldn't see. There was smoke everywhere. Thick and heavy. Obscuring her view. She could barely make out shadows. Or was it her own lashes? She was squinting so hard she couldn't tell the difference anymore. She tried to open her eyes wider but tears immediately sprang to them, irritating them further.

If she wasn't sitting on solid ground and leaning against a wall, she would have sworn the castle had crumbled already.

But Hogwarts was holding out. Enforcing her defences and rooting herself into the ground. She would still be standing after this. Hermione had to believe that her castle would still be there. That they would still be there because anything else would mean giving up hope and that was simply not possible.

She could use an air-cleaning charm but she was afraid of what she would see.

The sounds were terrifying all on their own. Screaming. Crying. Crashing. Rumbling.

She didn't want to see why the running footsteps sounded wet.

She didn't want to see what the soft thing next to her actually was.

But not being able to see intensified all the sounds.

Her senses were in overdrive. And the smell. Oh God, the smell.

Never in her life had she smelled anything like this. She hadn't even read about it.

Burnt flesh, burnt rubble, burnt cloth, burnt everything.

Blood. How much blood must there be for her to be able to smell it?

Foul stenches all around. Rotting flesh and sweat.

She could almost smell the tears.

Her own had stopped. She wasn't sure how much time had actually passed since giant spiders had separated her from Harry and Ron.

She wasn't even entirely certain where she was right now. She'd just started running, thinking that the boys were directly behind her.

She'd been wrong.

Her gut told her they were alright. She would know if something had happened to them.

She'd been sitting in this corner for a few seconds. Or minutes? She wasn't sure. Her muscle memory and instincts were telling her that she was close to the entrance hall.

The fighting sounded louder and yet further away at the same time. She heard spells being yelled. The thud of bodies hitting the floor. More screaming. Stones exploding. Wet coughing. Flesh tearing.

Was this even real anymore? Was her brain imagining these sounds or were people actually this ruthless and brutal?

After all this time, had the war not taught her anything about their enemies?

She shuddered. A flimsy tremble. Her body wouldn't allow more. Because more reaction meant breaking down. Becoming aware of what all of this actually meant.

She gripped her wand tighter and squeezed her eyes shut completely.

"You can do this, Hermione. Get up. Get up and keep fighting."

She gritted her teeth and drew strength from her murmured mantra.

She was still alive. The fight wasn't over so there was no time to rest or think. Her eyes snapped open again, fully this time. No squinting anymore.

She rose up, determined, and swished her wand to clear the smoke around her.

She'd been right. She was close to the entrance hall. So close, in fact, she could see the fighting in the courtyard. Because the giant oak doors were missing. Blasted completely off. She was staring through a huge hole.

There were cloaked figures. Death Eaters. Some with their masks still on.

There were spiders and giants and dementors.

There were teachers, students, Order members, people from the village, parents.

They were all fighting for their lives and the lives of their loved ones.

There were bodies lying everywhere.

She was scared to look closer. She was scared not to look.

"No!" Hermione uttered, aware her voice didn't sound like her own.

She recognized their faces. She shouldn't have looked.

Students. People she went to school with. Shared meals and notes with. Laughed and joked with.

Dead.

Something inside her had already cracked after witnessing a desperate Fred try to pull Percy out from under a collapsed wall.

Then she saw Remus, that something broke irrevocably.

Remus Lupin's body was lying just beside the entrance. Pale, silent and unmoving.

He was a teacher. He had taught them. Taught her. He had helped them master jinxes and hexes. Told them about creatures and beasts. He was caring and had listened, and somehow always knew what to do.

He was the only one left with a link to Harry's parents. He had a son and a wife.

He was a werewolf. Werewolves were strong. They didn't stop moving. She had seen it herself. Why wasn't he moving?

She took a step towards him but felt a scalding stream of energy shoot by her head he whipped her head to the right to find the source.

"Hello, beautiful."

Dolohov.

She narrowed her eyes hatefully. She raised her wand higher, pointing it directly at where his heart was supposed to be.

"Are you admiring my handiwork? Wasn't even difficult, to be honest. He didn't put up much of a fight. Wasn't even fun."

He had killed Remus. That sadistic, ruthless piece of scum had ruined countless lives and now he had killed her teacher, her friend.

She screamed a stunner at him but he had ample time to deflect it. She was unbalanced and he knew it.

He cocked his head to the side with a nasty smile. "You know, I owe you a round of excruciating pain. Your little stunt in that café cost me."

"What? Can't hold your Crucios? Poor excuse for a Death Eater if you ask me." Hermione spat out with a bitter smile on her face.

Dolohov's eyes flashed but his wand remained steady, pointing at her.

"Are you actually this stupid? Taunting me? I could kill you in an instant." He hissed, spit flying from his mouth. "Although, it won't be quick. I'll make you suffer, you little cunt!"

"You're a pathetic excuse for a wizard, Dolohov. You couldn't kill me when I was sixteen. What makes you think you have more of a chance now that I'm older and even more powerful?"

She wasn't sure where her bravado came from but she knew deep down that he wouldn't win this. Fueled by her own words, she took a confident step forward and noticed how Dolohov's wand arm wavered. He had no doubt expected her to cower before him and beg for mercy, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He didn't scare her anymore.

His face was screwed up in rage and she knew exactly what was coming next because he moved his wand in an ominously familiar way.

Expecting his signature curse, she feigned a step forward before spinning to her right, avoiding the purple death sentence, and casting a curse she never thought she would.

Dolohov, who had clearly not expected her to move to the side and fire at him from a different angle, was caught off guard and, in a surprisingly Muggle gesture, raised his left arm to block her curse.

The power she had put into her Sectumsempra cut straight through his arm, severing his hand at the wrist before cutting deeply into the flesh of Dolohov's torso.

His eyes widened in surprise. She met his gaze.

Hermione felt like everything was happening in a choppy time-lapse. A mix of slow-motion and fast-forward. Staccato images flashed in front of her eyes: Dolohov's wand dropping to the floor. Bleeding red gashes all over him. The movement of his remaining hand to his throat. His body lying on the floor in a pool of red.

Had he made a sound?

She had killed someone. Without hesitation. Without mercy.

She felt no regret.

Her senses had been in overdrive just moments before. Now they seemed dull and tired.

The battle around her hadn't slowed down, although it felt like it should have.

She averted her gaze from the still and butchered form of Antonin Dolohov.

She was no better than them.

She turned around towards the courtyard.

She had to get to the Shrieking Shack to find Harry and Ron.

He had to find her. He had fought too long and hard to see her die, even though she may not yet realize it. He was her saviour and she was his.

The moment he had arrived at the castle, he had split from the group he was assigned to. His only goal was to find her and make sure she would survive.

They had arrived late, giving the snatchers and lower-level followers time to start the battle and tire the Light out.

It was chaos. Bodies were lying everywhere. Parts of them blasted off. Dark patches of blood had seeped into the grass. There was rubble scattered all around. Smoke drifting everywhere. The ground was in pieces, with holes and dirt all over.

The destruction they had already caused was mesmerizing, in a disturbing way. He didn't fool himself into thinking his brethren weren't the main cause for it.

He couldn't fathom why they were so ruthless to the people and to the castle. But who was he trying to delude? He had spent the past twenty years with these people. He knew what they were capable of and he knew how little remorse they felt.

More than half of the Dark Lord's followers had called Hogwarts home at one point in their lives. Because that's what she'd always been. He wasn't an exception.

He had spent months here, away from his strict father, studying magic, learning what it meant to be a wizard, playing with his little brother and his friends. When had that stopped being enough? When had he decided that he needed to follow a pretty boy with a charismatic tongue and big ideas? When had he demeaned himself to be a henchman of a mad old snake?

He couldn't remember anymore, maybe he didn't want to.

The Dark Lord's side had taken a lot of hits, as far as he could tell. He had seen many of the faces on the bodies littering the grounds before, during gatherings. He was surprised by the staggering number of the dead.

How were there so many people? How were so many people dead?

How were there still so many left fighting?

He had to maintain a shield to be safe from stray curses.

He was wearing his mask, which meant he also had to duck and leap out of the way more than once to avoid an intentional curse. He tried to engage as little as possible, limiting himself to defensive spells.

He had to find her.

His plan was delayed by a giant fighting against three suits of armour right in front of him. He had to duck behind a dead Acromantula to avoid being crushed.

It was difficult to weave his way through the fights. The chaos didn't help his sense of direction, but he finally managed to reach the front of the courtyard.

He could make out the entrance to the castle - it was obvious because it was gaping, huge hole without doors.

There was no way he could make it into the castle without fighting.

Everything was in close quarters here. He could see shields and rubble everywhere. Destroyed stones and pillars, along with the aftermath of explosions, were the cause of the heavy smoke hanging over the battlefield.

Just then a boy, no older than fourteen or fifteen, sent a spell at him which he blocked easily.

Why had someone so young stayed and fought? They had no chance. Then again, he and his brethren had been thwarted more than once by so-called children. By her.

His eyes quickly focused and he flicked his wand so fast the child didn't have a chance to react at all.

His aim was true and he blasted Avery, who had been moving towards the boy from behind before he could fire a curse at the boy. Avery was thrown through the air, his body crashing against a stone pillar.

"Get to safety." He told the child, whose eyes were wide when they snapped back to his. "Stay alive, boy."

He started to make his way through the fighters. It was difficult to advance because he had to take out more than one of the Dark Lord's followers, and he was determined to make sure he did so.

He didn't care. His fellow Death Eaters didn't matter. He knew this was the last stand. Everyone could feel it. Maybe that was the reason for the brutal viciousness.

All he could think about was getting to her.

He recognized most of the people on the side of the Light that he managed to catch glimpses of. They stared at him in bewilderment, no doubt perplexed about why he was helping them. Former teachers, former friends and even people from Hogsmeade he hadn't seen in decades.

Had he chosen a different path a long time ago, he would be fighting alongside them right now.

Or maybe he would already be dead.

Before they could decide to take him out despite the fact he had helped them, he moved on swiftly. Inching his way closer and closer towards the entrance hall.

He knew he had to make it inside. He knew she was somewhere in the castle. He could feel it.

When he finally stepped inside, the sight that greeted him froze him in place.

It was her and she was facing -

"Dolohov," he whispered horrified.

She was stepping forward into a stream of purple light that would surely be the end of her.

His heart seemed to stop.

His voice was lodged in his throat. It couldn't end like this. He couldn't be too late.

He heard the curse impact the pillar she had been standing in front of only a fraction of a second earlier.

He moved forward to see better. Then the gurgling reached his ears and his brain finally finished processing what he saw.

She had avoided his curse and hit Dolohov with what looked like Snape's slicing curse. A fucking powerful one judging by the hand lying next to the Russian and the countless gashes appearing all over his body. Even Snape himself hadn't managed such a force.

He slowly raised his eyes from the crumbling form of his former brother and finally looked at her fully.

She was filthy. Her hair, once vibrant and untamable, now hung limp around her face, which was streaked with dirt and sweat. Her face was paler than even the Dark Lord's had been recently. Her clothes had holes in them and he couldn't make out the original colours. She was covered with spots of blood. It looked like someone had taken a paintbrush and just sprayed her with red.

He could only hope that none of it was her own.

Despite all the dirt and grime, she looked beautiful. And Powerful.

Intimidating.

She hadn't moved yet. She was still staring at Dolohov, who was a heap on the floor.

He was scared she'd be hit by a curse, stray or otherwise. Hell, he would be hit by one if he kept standing right in the middle of the entrance hall.

He had moved slightly to the side so he didn't have the courtyard in his back anymore when she turned towards him and froze, her wand pointed straight at him.

"Fuck." He hissed.

He was still wearing his Death Eater mask although he wasn't sure removing it would improve the situation. His wand arm was hanging limply by his side, his wand pointed down.

He hadn't thought this far. He had been driven by the need to find her. Actually standing in front of her and having to interact hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Well, here goes nothing." He murmured warily.

He slowly raised his left hand to signal her he didn't mean any harm.

"Miss Granger- "

She'd been stupid, careless. She had lingered too long over the image that Dolohov's corpse had made. She hadn't paid attention to her surroundings and now she had to face another bloody Death Eater.

He was tall, taller than Dolohov, but with a build just as broad. At least, that's what she could tell, considering his heavy cloak. His mask had intricate patterns and she was slightly confused as to why she was noticing ridiculous, trivial things like mask details at a time like this t. She had no idea who it could be but that didn't actually matter. They were all the same. They were the enemy. They wanted to kill them, to kill her.

She would not let that happen.

Her muscles were coiled tightly, ready to act, ready to attack, defend, move. A spell was on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be released.

She saw him start to raise his left arm - his empty hand - his wand remained pointed down on his right side.

She heard her name. At least he was polite. She couldn't even begin to imagine what he would want to say.

Before he could raise his wand arm too, she fired a Confringo toward him. She would not take chances with this.

She had to move on and find Harry and Ron. She didn't care that her curse could kill the Death Eater. She had killed one already, just a moment ago. He would do much worse to her if she let him.

Her aim was true. The curse hurtled toward him with deadly precision.

She saw it make contact with his body…and pass right through his torso without harming him in the slightest.

Then it hit the stone wall behind him, before rebounding at an angle and destroying the wall to her right. Rubble flew everywhere. They both ducked.

She heard distinct clunking sounds above her but didn't pay them any attention.

She stared at the masked Death Eater from her crouched position. He was in a similar position, with his wand pointed at her. She felt cold dread creep down her spine.

How had she missed him? That spell was perfect, aimed right at him. It should have hit him!

Now she would die because of what? Poor aim? Bad luck? Fate? Why hadn't it hit him?

Curses didn't just pass through people!

Dust filled the space in front of her, blurring his form slightly.

There were more clunking sounds from above her and she risked a look up.

There was debris hovering in the air, right over her, as if held up by an invisible barrier.

"How the…?" She asked without realizing she was speaking out loud

She looked back to him, right in time to see a piece of wall crash down right next to him. He didn't even flinch, his wand arm not waving.

Was he really so determined to end her, despite the fact he was perilously close to being crushed?

But…was he trying to kill her? She glanced up again to the shield protecting her.

She hadn't cast it.

His witch was fucking powerful.

He was glad the spell hadn't hit him. It would have obliterated him. Just like it did the walls.

He had been hit by more than one piece of stone and he could already feel the pain radiating from his back and shoulder.

He was lucky he'd reacted fast enough to shield her from the debris.

He saw it in her eyes. The moment she knew he had conjured it. She didn't understand it.

He wanted to explain everything to her. Now that he'd found her, he wanted her as far away from this battle as possible.

But she didn't trust him yet.

When he was sure no more rubble was falling down, he flicked his wand and flung the pieces above her head away.

They both straightened simultaneously. She had her wand raised at him again, although he noticed her hesitance.

So he tried again.

"Miss Granger, I mean you no harm."

She didn't react, except for her hand - it tightened around her wand.

Well, that wasn't a good sign.

"I am going to remove my mask, now. So you can see my face."

He waited for another spell to leave her wand, but it didn't. So, he slowly raised his left hand again, palm forward so she would see he wouldn't attack her. He ignored the pain the movement caused him and finally pulled his mask off.

He didn't know what he expected as a reaction, but 'nothing' hadn't exactly been it.

She didn't move at all. Didn't blink; it almost seemed like she wasn't breathing.

He would've been happy with a flinch…probably.

"Rodolphus Lestrange…Bellatrix's husband." She finally said with a slight tremble at his wife's name.

He knew why.

"Miss Granger, had I been there I would not have let her do that to you." He said on an impulse.

To his surprise, she laughed.

"Right." She snorted. "You would've come to my rescue and swept me away to a safe place? Are you taking the piss? You probably would've helped her! You're all the same!" She screamed.

He shook his head.

"I know you have no reason to believe me, but I assure you, you would have been safe with me. You will always be safe with me."

He didn't know how he would've done it, but he knew he would not have left her at the mercy of his deranged wife.

"You're delusional! What are you talking about? Is this some secret fantasy of yours?"

Well, she wasn't wrong per se.

"We share a connection, Miss Granger. You and I. You will sense it soon enough."

There was no doubt in his voice because he knew it was true.

"You're crazy! You're completely insane. What the fu-"

But her sentence was cut off by a roar and a deafening crash. One of the giants had swung his weapon into the wall and they both had to avoid being crushed again. In the chaos, he was separated from her

He looked around frantically searching for her. Hoping that she hadn't been hurt.

When he could see again, she was gone. He took a deep breath.

He could still feel the pull between them, which meant she wasn't dead. Relief flooded him and he thought about what to do next.

She had probably run out into the courtyard. But when he tried to find her in the chaos outside, he couldn't. His chances of finding her again without getting killed were slim.

He wanted to find her again. He hadn't chosen his words right. She thought he was mad. He probably was a little.

Seeing her again just now, even covered in grime and in the middle of a battle on opposite sides, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Hermione Granger was his soulmate.

And something told him that she would be fine.

With that thought in mind, he turned towards the fighting outside and spotted his wife locked in battle with her niece.

He would not give her the chance to orphan another little boy. Never again.

With a grim stance, he stepped between his wife and Nymphadora Tonks.