Behind Enemy Gates
Chapter 2
If she had the luxury to do so, Hermione would have stayed on the ground in shock for hours, simply examining the long, slender fingers that were not her own, through jet black hair that had not grown naturally from her scalp. And when the shock finally faded away, Hermione would have made the decision to leave behind this new body in favor of her own, without, of course, needing to end the life of another.
But she did not have that luxury. If she wanted to live, there was little another choice but to fight the evil that threatened to take over the wizarding world. Hermione quickly rose to stand, but her legs felt unsteady as a young fowl's and Arthur gripped her arm to help stabilize her. Everyone in the room was absolutely silent with awe.
"Well?" She hesitantly questioned to no one in particular, uncomfortable with the curious stares. To say she felt self-conscious about her transformation was an understatement. Tonks was the first to shake off her disbelief.
"Welcome to the world of stealing identities," she incredulously responded. During Hermione's transformation, Tonks had gone through one of her own. Though Tonks was roughly the same height, her hair was nearly black, looking as sleek as obsidian hanging well past her shoulders. Her new body, while slender, managed to hold enviable hourglass curves. There was no trace of the Tonks Hermione knew in front of her. Handing Hermione the robes she was to wear, Tonks walked toward the fireplace. Hermione obliged by sliding the expensive garment over her shoulders, but she paused before walking forward.
Still in shock and reeling from the pain she had just experienced, Hermione simply kept examining her delicate hands. They did not seem capable of handling the power pulsing through her veins, nor to guide her through this mission. Physically her line of sight felt shorter. Her body was certainly still petite but held weight in different areas. The general shape of her figure had transformed from lithe to svelte. Like Tonks, her hair hung well past her shoulders in a sleek black curtain.
Despite the obvious changes her body had just undergone, Hermione did not feel any mentally different. The mind she was revered for was still intact, and Hermione felt not unlike she had before. It was this part of herself, the part that had not failed her yet, that Hermione would need to rely on most. Looking up, Hermione surveyed the others who had moved on from their stunned silence to set up the next phase of their mission.
Clearing his throat, Remus stated, "You should be leaving soon. You remember what we planned?" He questioned, though in his gut he knew there was no reason to doubt them. Both women were highly able in skill as well as mental fortitude. Still, it was well understood that they would face unimaginable dangers. Living under the Dark Lord's reign, having to accept his will in the name of espionage, would be treacherous. Neither Hermione nor Tonks was quite ready to say their farewells yet, but there was no choice. It was far too late to abandon the mission now.
Best not to think about it, Hermione concluded. Her body still felt numb as she took a final glance toward Elanor's limp form on the ground. Hermione could still see the light movement of her chest rising and falling, and she felt slightly calmed. As long as Elanor kept breathing, Hermione knew she would be safe in her transformed body. When Hermione finally walked across the study to the fireplace, she gasped at the sight.
The Pemberton matriarch lay in front of the fireplace in a pool of deep burgundy blood, a large slash cutting through her chest. Hermione placed a hand over her mouth as she studied the woman. The fresh scent of blood permeated her nostrils as she walked closer to the stone mantle. Hermione could see what she thought to be a bone protruding from the cavity in her opened chest. Clearly, Madam Victoria Pemberton was dead. Again, an ill feeling arose in her stomach and Hermione swallowed the bile that threatened to escape her throat. Though the sight was gruesome, Hermione knew this was likely to be only a taste of what she was to see in her new life. In response to this realization, her face hardened a touch, trying to find the inner courage that made her a Gryffindor. Beside Madam Victoria, Hermione noticed a small piece of paper sticking out from her hand. The paper was stained slightly red around the edges.
"Remus, what is that Madam Victoria is holding? " Following Hermione's gaze, Remus turned to the dead body near his feet and bent over to retrieve the paper. It was a small, sealed envelope.
"It's addressed to Voldemort," He inspected the parcel in his hands. " It's charmed," He realized as he attempted to unseal the letter."We cannot open it. Bring it with you and deliver it to him."
"But what if it contains information about the Order?" Tonks protested, worried for the safety of her friends.
"It would be suspicious should you not bring it, if he is expecting it," Arthur Weasley chimed in. Remus nodded beside him.
"There is no more time to debate. There are only a few moments left. Ready?" Arthur asked. Hermione and Tonks both nodded, knowing they had no other choice. Their fate was intertwined with that of the Order's survival, and failure of this mission would hold severe consequences for everyone they held dearest. Hermione felt too ill to speak. Her stomach was twisted with a dreadful unease.
As not to look suspicious, the pair needed to show signs of struggle from the staged invasion. Hermione was to be rendered unconscious, and Tonks agreed to be hit by a few charms.
"Please Remus," Tonks pleaded. "It will all be okay," She said as she closed her eyes. As Remus fired flashes of blue and red lights at Tonks, bruising her skin, Hermione noted how pained he looked, as though each charm was radiating in his own chest. She could see his ache at seeing the woman he loved hurt. But Tonks had insisted it be him, no doubt because of her trust in the man.
With only moments to spare, and without warning, Tonks sent a stunning charm directly towards Hermione's chest, and she fell ungracefully to the ground. Her fate now rested entirely with Tonks and the Death Eaters on the other side of the floo. Should Voldemort not believe them, or should something be found at the Pemberton Manor to indicate their involvement in the death of Victoria Pemberton, they would never live to see their futures.
A gentle touch tracing down her arm was the first sensation Hermione experienced upon being awoken. She opened her eyes, but through her hazy, unfocused vision it was difficult for her to understand her current situation. There was an obvious commotion taking place around her. Bodies cloaked in black were appearing from every direction and their deep voices radiated off the cold marble floors, barking orders amidst the chaos.
Through it, all Hermione could only concentrate on the soft, prodding thumb pad rubbing across her inner wrist. She turned her head to find the source of the touch. As she did so, she felt a warm, wet droplet roll down her forehead and along her cheek.
"Elanor!" Hermione heard a familiar voice call from just beside her. Quickly trying to orient herself, Hermione noticed that Tonks was kneeling to the right of her body. Careful to use the right name, Hermione tried to speak.
"Adria, what..." Hermione attempted to sit up, and a hand guided her back. She suddenly stiffened, discerning all at once that the hand that was on the small of her back, and the thumb caressing her wrist did not belong to Tonks. Quickly, she recoiled from the alien hands, turning rapidly to meet a pair of cold, steely eyes.
Hermione's chest tightened, and her body became rigid. The eyes, devoid of emotion despite the gentle touch of his fingers, belonged to none other than the boy who had tormented her since her arrival into the wizarding world. They belonged to the boy who had a hand in Dumbledore's death. They belonged to the boy who would find cathartic pleasure in her death, should he ever find out her true identity.
The Malfoy heir was kneeling beside her body, touching her skin. It took every fiber of her being to not throw up as he guided her to her feet. She quickly pulled her hand out of his to straighten her robes. Tonks shot her a sharp stare as if to say, Hermione, remember who you are supposed to be. Hermione read the message loud and clear, but she could not find it in herself to meet those cold eyes again or even utter a simple 'thank you'. Tonks, noticing Hermione having trouble with her situation, came up with a quick excuse for her odd behavior.
"You'll have to excuse her. I think she is in a bit of shock," Tonks whispered to Draco. The sorrow in her voice sounded so genuine, and Hermione wondered for a moment how Tonks had become so adept at lying.
Draco, paying little attention to Tonks, pressed his wand against Hermione's cheek. Hermione froze. His silver eyes were devoid of any emotion, resting glossy and soulless upon his aristocratic features. From in her chest, Hermione's heart began to race to the tempo of her thoughts. Did he know about them? Had her rudeness given them away?
However, to her shock, he muttered a simple spell under his breath and the warm liquid that had been dripping down her cheek seized. As Draco pulled the wand back from her cheek, it was only then that Hermione realized what it was that had been trickling down her face. Blood. Her seemingly filthy, muddy blood was now smeared across the tip of Draco's wand, and he was inspecting it thoroughly, lost in momentary thought.
"Pureblood being spilled...the Dark Lord will not be pleased to hear this," Draco muttered. Had she not been in such a position of danger, Hermione would have laughed at Draco calling her blood 'pure'.
A flurry of footsteps bounced off the marble floors, and from around the corner emerged three more cloaked figures. The rest of the movement in the room abruptly stopped. Tonks inhaled ever so slightly from next to Hermione. This part of their mission was to be the most unpredictable. They would have to convince the Dark Lord that they were no more than his most humble servants, that the ambush had taken place around them and they barely escaped with their lives.
One of the cloaked figures lifted their hood, slowly revealing the face beneath. The deeply veiled eyes and gaunt face of Bellatrix Lestrange emerged. Her tangled hair framed her sharp face, emphasizing her sadistic, twisted features.
"Well?" Her rage-filled voice shrilled at the Death Eaters before her. No one dared speak. Draco glanced condescendingly around the room before meeting his Aunt's eyes.
"Someone knew of our plans. Madam Pemberton is dead. Crabbe, Goyle and my father were first to enter the Pemberton Manor to search for anyone, but the portkey is closed now. We will have to establish another," Draco coolly stated. Ever analytical, Hermione carefully considered his self-assuredness and saw how others revered him. As he was speaking, no one dared look away from his face. His presence was commanding in a more mature way than when they were at Hogwarts; There, it was his father's name that struck true fear in others. Now, it seemed Draco himself was in command of that trepidation.
"In the meantime," Draco continued, turning to face the women he thought to be Adria and Elanor Pemberton. Bellatrix raised her eyebrow at the sight of the two women, evaluating every detail of their appearance.
Tonks took a small step forward towards Bellatrix, "If I may, my grandmother very much wanted this letter to reach the Dark Lord. It is of the utmost urgency." Though her tone was soft, there was nothing timid about the delivery. Hermione admired her strength, as Tonks confidently handed the deranged woman the letter, looking every bit as aristocratic and commanding.
Bellatrix paused, surveying the Pemberton grandchildren with her maddening gaze." The Dark Lord has been waiting eagerly for this," she smirked arrogantly. "At least this wasn't a total failure. Have Minly show the guests to their rooms," the shrill voice of Bellatrix commanded. Draco was shocked at her cavalier attitude toward the unknown women.
"And the Dark Lord," Draco questioned before his Aunt turned her back. "Won't he want to meet our guests?"
He took a few steps closer to his aunt, and under his breath whispered, "How do we know they are who they claim to be?" Draco knew that the wards on the Manor would have never allowed someone under the influence of polyjuice potion to enter, but due to the circumstances surrounding their arrival, he was highly suspicious of the women. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and lifted her wand at the women before her.
"Revelo!" She shouted. Hermione stayed as still as possible, and to her relief, nothing happened. Both her and Tonks were still in their transformed state.
"This," Bellatrix started, holding up the bloodied envelope close to Draco's face, "should also satisfy the Dark Lord." Her lips curled into a sinister grin, madness radiating from her gaze. "The Order would never deliver such a gift to him." Hermione's heart sank, and she fought to keep her face impassive. Any relief she had felt moments ago quickly faded.
"Not knowingly," Draco contested, but he sighed, understanding this was not a battle he would win. "Minly," He called out, and a house elf appeared before them. "Show our guests to their rooms." Without a glance backward, his tall, lean figure walked from the room behind his aunt, curious as to what was enclosed in the envelope. There had been rumors for months now of a weapon that the Dark Lord was searching for. If this letter truly enclosed the whereabouts of such a secret, the war may be over soon, a prospect Draco was severely impatient for. He wanted nothing more than to have his house and life back.
"Is he here?" Draco questioned his aunt in a low whisper.
"Yes, he arrived shortly before Madam Pemberton was set to get here," Bellatrix responded in her usual arrogant tone.
As his aunt approached the main hall, they slowed their steps. Bellatrix quickly straightened her robes and hair, a habit, Draco noted, that she only did when she was going to see her master. Death Eaters had long been curious as to the relationship between the Dark Lord and his most loyal follower, but Draco was the exception. Nothing made him iller than to think about the sadistic duo and their sexual desires. The maliciousness that flowed through his aunt's veins was her life source, attached to her very soul. Never did he think there would be a person who was as passionate about carnage as the Dark Lord, but, when his aunt had taken up residence with them, he learned that she could very nearly match his intensity. Honestly, there was not much he liked about his aunt, nor did he even respect her, but, she had been instrumental in keeping him alive and in the good graces of the Dark Lord. And for that, he would never complain.
Bellatrix tapped her wand against the ornate wooden door to the main dining room, making their presence known before stepping foot inside. They approached the head of the table, where the Dark Lord was seething.
"There is another traitor amongst us," Although Voldemort's tone was low, there was an eternal brewing storm beneath it, pulsing with malice and poison. Ever curious, though never divulging such, Draco kept his face locked forward, his eyes never wavering from Bellatrix and the Dark Lord. "Severus likely passed the plans along to the Order, but, he knew no exact details of it. This means someone informed him as to what was happening," Voldemort sneered.
"My Lord, I will kill whoever it was," Bellatrix violently spat, rage overtaking her.
Draco thought for a moment. There was only a small group of people who knew of the plans, himself included, and even fewer who had details regarding the Pemberton estate. "My Lord," Draco began, "whoever knew of the plans also had to have knowledge of how to access the Pemberton estate. Do you think Madam Pemberton turned on us?"
"Never," Lord Voldemort denied. "It was someone in this Manor, but who I cannot guess. I will need you both to begin interrogations soon. Find who did this," he hissed, his deathly pale skin pulling back into a scowl.
"My Lord, there is some good news," Bellatrix kneeled beside Voldemort, "the letter has arrived." Voldemort's red eyes flashed for a moment, and his sneering face relaxed slightly, giving way to a grotesque grin. He opened the envelope and read the small letter enclosed.
"It seems, that even though Madam Pemberton could not join us tonight, their arrival proved most fruitful," Voldemort whispered, gazing at the letter in a way that Draco would almost characterize as infatuation. "This just leaves the fate of our most honored guests..." He brought a long finger up to his lips, before staring at Draco intently.
"My Lord," Draco bowed his head. Knowing that Voldemort was deep in thought, Draco chose to say no more, allowing the powerful man to retreat into his consciousness.
"There is but one thing that will help me against Potter," Voldemort's voice, though barely above a murmur, carried smoothly throughout the room. " Draco, do you know what it is that I desire?" Voldemort's voice was deliberate, and he slowly enunciated each word that passes his thin lips.
"What is it you desire, My Lord?" Draco calmly asked, knowing the Dark Lord was not looking for him to actually guess the answer.
"I desire to be the most powerful wizard, to rid the earth of dismal filth, to continue the path of Grindelwald, and succeed where he pathetically failed. To achieve this, I need a wand more powerful than all else. Have you heard of the Elder Wand, Draco?"
"Only in fairy tales, My Lord," Draco obediently responded. This line of questioning intrigued him, though, more so than his previous conversations with the Dark Lord. His heart was much calmer in his chest than it used to be when he stood before the powerful wizard. Learning how to manage his fear was an especially useful skill he had developed over the last year. From off to Voldemort's right, Draco noted that his Aunt was wistfully lost in Voldemort's words.
"These women are the lost relatives of Antioch Peverell, the wizard who first came in possession of the Elder Wand. There are stories that have been kept sacred by the decedents of Antioch Peverell for generations, including the location and specifics regarding the wand. Though their line has been notoriously reclusive, they have been devoted to ridding the world of muggles, which is where they prove most precious," Voldemort paused momentarily in thought. " Madam Pemberton has worked with me over the last few months to trace the wand through its previous owners, and above all confirming her loyalty to me. And now," Voldemort held up the letter between his long, skeletal fingers, "she has given me an answer. Mykew Gregorovitch, the wand maker, had the Elder Wand in his possession." Still kneeling beside Voldemort, Bellatrix let out a sharp cackle.
"Bellatrix, you are to find and bring Gregorovitch to me. Do this with haste," Voldemort demanded.
"Of course my Lord," She eagerly nodded.
"And Draco," Voldemort pondered for a moment before speaking, "Draco, I do not know what to make of our new guests, whether they are as trustworthy as their grandmother. You are to watch them closely. Do whatever you must, but I need more answers about the wand, Draco. They are to live here and to continue the work of their grandmother. I need their family secrets, to know if there is anything else hiding. Watch their every move. You will be greatly honored for this service Draco."
"I would be privileged to do so, My Lord," Draco bowed his head slightly, as a show of respect for his superior. Truthfully, Draco was appreciative of this mission. It was much less dangerous than others he had been sent on. His usefulness had earned him certain comforts, and, though he did not necessarily ascribe to the level of brutality that Voldemort waged, he was not about to protest about his advantaged status.
Without a moment more of hesitation, Draco set off to begin his mission.
Draco ran to catch up with the women on their tour of the Manor. As he rounded the corner of the second floor on the western wing, he found the women dutifully following Minly, the manor's house elf.
"Minly," Draco called from behind them, not showing any signs of being out of breath despite having run to catch up with them. "Go attend to other business. I will show our guests to their room." Tonks gave Hermione a short, nervous glance before turning around. Hermione wondered if it was a talent inherent to children of pure bloodlines to be able to mask their emotions so effortlessly. She struggled to match their level of poise and control. What was Malfoy doing taking them to their room? Wasn't that the job of a servant? Hermione was perplexed but tried her hardest not to show it.
"Mr. Malfoy, that would be most excellent. We've had a trying night, as you know," Tonks elegantly spoke as she waited for Draco to join them. No smile reached her eyes as she said her words. If Hermione had not known any better, she would have believed Tonks was really mourning the loss of their grandmother.
When Draco had caught up, he curtly nodded at them both to follow him down the long hallway. Hermione was certain she would never be able to find her way back to the room. The Manor was entirely too large. Corridors seemed to stretch out in every direction. There was a darkness to the Manor that was unsettling and cold; the decorations were almost medieval, dark and brooding. The shadows came to life around every corner. Hermione could not help but analyze every detail of her surroundings, finding it difficult to keep pace with the other two. The halls, though lit by torches, felt cold and devoid of human presence. Compared to the Burrow, this place held no life yet had an underlying dark spirit. Its magic was held not in the unusual, but in the ancient. Dark artifacts of all sorts were showcased everywhere behind thick glass cabinets. Shadows lurked around corners, and paintings sneered their aristocratic noses down upon them with disdain. Hermione shuddered even thinking about what other secrets were hidden at the Malfoy Manor.
After a few more minutes of walking down winding halls in silence, Draco stopped abruptly before a baroque, green wooden door, and pushed it open. He held the door and motioned for the women to enter. As Hermione passed through the door, her shoulder brushed up against Draco's chest and she shuddered at the sudden heat. He casually glanced down at her, acknowledging the touch, and her shiver, and smirked.
"This is your suite. There is a common area, and three bedrooms, each with its own private bath."
Hermione could only stare wide-eyed at its impressive size. The room was painted in dark shades of green and gray. The dark, hardwood floors did not creek as they walked over them, despite looking quite old. The furniture was ornate, made of carved wood and the finest fabrics. Off to the far side of the common room were three doors, which Hermione presumed were their rooms. While she was seldom impressed by showcases of fortune and wealth, needing very little herself, Hermione was overwhelmed by the sheer fortune the Malfoy's must possess to have such a large estate.
"I'm sure you are ready for sleep. I assure you, your stay will be enjoyable," Draco said. "And if it is not to your liking, we can certainly arrange for something more comfortable." Having practiced for years at Hogwarts, he knew when and how to turn on his inner charm; his voice was only slightly arrogant, creating an air of aristocracy and intrigue. "If there is anything else you need, you may ask Minly. She is obliged to see that all of your requests are met." Hermione considered his words. Her odd, silent behavior would not go unnoticed from his analytical eyes should she not say anything before he left. Gathering all her courage, Hermione lifted her head to speak.
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. What of our things? We did not have time to grab them, I'm afraid." Hermione spoke to Draco directly, meeting his piercing eyes. She had very nearly forgotten her change as they were walking through the Manor, but now, Hermione could hear that Elanor's voice was slightly lower than her own, though, still melodic and feminine. The sultry tone sounded foreign coming from her lips.
"We will be visiting your estate sometime this week after we are sure no one else is watching. I will ensure your belongings are brought here. In the meantime, you will find an assortment of clothes and dress robes at your disposal in your closets. Anything for the family of Madam Pemberton," Draco smiled before pausing to think for a moment. " I am very sorry for your loss. Your grandmother has been an asset to the Dark Lord's mission for some time now."
"Thank you for your kind words," Tonks replied temperately. Draco watched as Hermione gazed her eyes towards the floor again.
"Decidedly, the Dark Lord would very much appreciate if you were to continue her research," Draco's voice was silky, and effortlessly polished even to his own ears. "Breakfast will be served in the dining room tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp. We can discuss this more after you have rested. Sleep well, Adria and Elanor." Taking one last assessment of the women, he turned adroitly, closing their door quietly behind him.
Hermione had not known that her breathing had become so shallow, but when Draco left, she felt a large gasp of oxygen fill her lungs to capacity again. Tonks had a similar reaction. Before either of them spoke they set to work in verifying their suite was secure from any listening ears. Hermione began muttering charms under her breath, keeping her wand hidden up the sleeve of her cloak. The power that had surged within her earlier returned in full force, and the magic flowed effortlessly through her in a way that was new, but, unequivocally welcome.
"This should block out any potential listeners. I suggest we only speak when this ward is up, and resort to our journals to pass messages to each other if we must. The ward will also alert us if anyone is near," Hermione informed Tonks.
"Impressive," Tonks excitedly whispered. "They always told me you were incredible, it's a relief to have you here with me," Tonks praised her. Hermione couldn't help but smirk at the woman's genuine tone. Unlike in the presence of Draco, Tonks was now expressive and warm.
"I am the one who is relieved. I couldn't have done this alone. My nerves got the best of me today," Hermione whispered back. Deep in her soul, she still felt shaken at everything that had happened in the last day. There were many things that Hermione was good at, studying, researching, but she was not a good liar, making this mission seem more impossible than it already was. "We should alert the Order that we are safe. I'm sure Remus will want to hear that you are doing okay." Hermione pulled the small journal and a quill from the charmed pocket inside her robes.
"Why do you think Draco led us to our room?" Hermione pondered, as she opened the journal to write.
"Perhaps he has been asked to watch us. He seemed suspicious. We should keep a close eye on him," Tonks decided.
"I agree," Hermione replied, "I also noticed he is better respected than some of the others. He seems to be higher up in the Death Eaters ranks. That could be advantageous to us," Hermione concluded. If he was tasked with keeping a closer eye on them, it might give them the opportunity to gain his trust, and bleed him for information.
"Yes," Tonks nodded, watching as Hermione scrawled the first message onto the page.
"We have made it safely to the Malfoy Manor, and they have accepted our presence as well as the letter. The Death Eaters will be patrolling the Pemberton Manor within the next few days. Be careful. "
Hermione paused and watched the words sink slowly into the page, disappearing from sight. "What should I say about the letter?" She asked Tonks.
The space between Tonks' eyebrows creased slightly as she thought. "Just tell them that Madam Pemberton was researching something with the Dark Lord and we unknowingly gave them information about whatever they were working on. We will give them more information once we discover what was written in the letter."
Hermione quickly jotted down what Tonks was saying and watched as the words disappeared. The pair waited a few moments before a message appeared on the pages before them.
"We are glad you are safe. Be careful, do not do anything too risky."
Hermione chuckled at what she assumed to be the words of Remus. Their whole existence was a risk at this moment. Tonks rolled her eyes. "That should be good for tonight."
Tonks inspected Hermione as she placed her journal and her quill back within the charmed pocket in her robes. She noted the weariness in Hermione's eyes. "Are you alright? I mean with all of this, the transformation and such?" Tonks asked. Hermione felt touched at her friend's concern and gave her a small, reassuring smile.
"I will be. My nerves were a bit rusty today, it's been a while since I've done anything more involved than researching. I'll be better tomorrow. As for the appearance, I haven't really had time to think about it honestly. I keep forgetting I look different, but then I'll notice my hands or a strand of black hair in my eyes and I'll remember." She admitted. Tonks considered her words before nodding.
"You'll get used to it I'm sure. Just remember that purebloods, particularly those of elite upbringing, do not typically show their emotions. It'll get easier as time goes on," Tonks advised. "We really should sleep."
"Right," Hermione concurred, letting a small yawn pass her lips. She was exhausted.
As she turned to enter her room, Tonks called out from behind her, "Goodnight... Elanor." Her nose scrunched up in distaste.
"What?" Hermione questioned.
"Elanor sounds so stiff. It's entirely too formal for me. I'm going to call you Ellie," Tonks proclaimed excitedly. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. Even in the worst of situations, Tonks was able to lighten the tension. Honestly, she was exceedingly glad the woman was here with her. It provided her with the comfort she would need to get through this challenge.
"Ellie," Hermione tested out on her lips. "I agree. It's a much better name."
And with that, both women retired into their respective rooms. Hermione noticed the large, four-poster bed had black, silk sheets. The luxurious carpet felt soft under her toes as she removed her clothes to change for bed. As she walked over to the closet to retrieve the clothes Malfoy had spoken of, she saw a shiny flash from her right. Turning to inspect it, Hermione gasped, her delicate fingers covering her mouth.
There was a large mirror in the closet, and it was reflecting an image that she did not quite recognize. There was no stopping the crushing feeling that overtook her stomach as she stared unmoving at the image of her new self. This woman who she saw was not herself, nor was it natural. Her entire existence at this moment was a lie; a miserable, dark, deep secret that threatened to cause her mind to burst from folly. Somewhere in the world lay the real Elanor, held prisoner, unknowingly waiting to die. Somewhere in the world, her best friends were searching for pieces of the Voldemort's soul. Somewhere in the world, her obliviated parents whom she loved dearly, had no memory of her existence. Hermione's knees buckled under the weight that suddenly bore down upon her shoulders, drowning her under bleak thoughts. This was very much real, and now there was no way out. Her decision had been made, and it was time to follow through. A silent tear dripped down her face, and Hermione quickly wiped it away. When she looked up to stand once again, Hermione noticed yet another abnormality in the mirror.
Her eyes.
Hermione recognized them as the only piece of herself that had not changed during the ritual. Staring back from the other side of the mirror were Hermione's copper brown eyes holding more fear than she had ever seen in them. Shocked, Hermione moved her face closer to the mirror to analyze them further. While it was possible she and Elanor shared the same eye color, Hermione found it unlikely. Tonks had green eyes, and, both sisters certainly looked alike. No, these were eyes that had stared at her for almost two decades now.
While she should have been horrified to be carrying such an identifying feature of her former self, it was oddly calming. She surely felt more at ease knowing a part of her remained here physically, giving her something to hold on to. There was comfort in knowing that she was not entirely lost to her new form.
Not wanting to spend any more time in front of the mirror, Hermione stood and quickly found her nightwear. She then walked over to the oversized bed and threw herself under the silky sheets. The bed was plush and warm, and the silk felt soothing against her legs. Turning on her side, Hermione faced the glass door that led to her small balcony. There was nothing but oppressive darkness on the other side of the glass. She exhaled deeply and shut her eyes, urging herself to forget the previous weeks and finally find the sleep she so desperately needed.
Stepping off his broom onto his balcony, Draco wiped a small drip of sweat from his forehead. Tonight had been one of those nights that he needed to escape. He noticed he was having them more frequently now. The confines of the Manor were suffocating, and it had been weeks since he had been allowed to leave. The more unstable the Dark Lord became, the more unbearable Draco's life was becoming.
For this, he found there was no better cure than a long night ride to clear him of his racing thoughts. Tonight his mind oscillated from his Godfather, to his new mission, to the Elder Wand. After much deliberation, there was no longer any doubt to him now that his Godfather was truly a traitor. The stoic man had taught Draco so much, stepping up in all the ways his father had failed. But Draco had noticed his odd behavior in the days leading up to his death. He was more frantic in their private meetings, speaking more than usual, passing along knowledge that Draco did not quite understand. He walked over to the desk in his room and tapped his wand three times against the top drawer. When he opened the drawer, there were a few letters, and more importantly, a tiny glass bottle, the last item Severus had given him before his capture.
Draco gently inspected the vial in his hands, tipping it so the clear liquid inside swished from side to side. A single, dark hair was suspended in the liquid. What was he hiding? Draco wondered. There was not enough liquid in the tiny vile for him to take any chances testing it without having any indication of what he was looking for. And, should the Dark Lord find out about this secret, Draco knew he would surely be killed. Draco's brain was stumped by this conundrum. The Pemberton matriarch being killed, an ambush on her granddaughters, the letter, the glass vile, somehow this was all connected, he just could not figure out how.
For now, he hid the vial back in his desk.
Though he was exhausted after his long night ride, and the tiring events of the past day, Draco lay awake long after he finally settled in his bed, fighting against his ever overworked mind. There was something about the Pemberton women that intrigued him. The tantalizing allure that surrounded their family, the mystery that enveloped their past, it left Draco with a need to learn more.
Elanor was certainly the younger of the two and seemed timider. She was also, Draco decided, the more striking of the two, with her small features and bright copper eyes. Though she had only met his eyes a few moments throughout the entire evening, he was entrapped by them. In the moments when he did get a glimpse, they had been expressive, allowing him to read more than just fear. There was something mysterious and dangerous within them, lurking behind the wide-eyed innocent gaze, and Draco was drawn to the challenge they presented. He was going to stop at nothing to learn of her secrets. Besides, she would likely be easier to charm than her colder, more aloof sister.
The last decision Draco made before finally succumbing to sleep was to pay the young woman a visit before breakfast.
Author's Note: And so it begins! What does the morning have waiting for our spies? There will be much more action next chapter. I know these first chapters have been a little slow, but I am trying to set up the plot in a way that allows me to let the later chapters flow better. Let me know what you think. Critiques are very much welcome to help me get a sense of what is working and what isn't. Until next time- AMJ :)