Author's Note:
As stated in the opening chapter's Author's Notes, chapter lengths may vary. I'm trying to keep the updates rapid-fire, so kind of just sitting down, getting a feel for what the previous chapter could lead into, and jumping in with both feet to see where the new chapter takes me. THIS is where the 'chapter lengths' notation comes in, because the per-chapter word counts may not meet/break 2k most times.
That being said, there will likely not be a new chapter tomorrow night, as I won't be free to write until sometime Sunday afternoon/evening.
Chapter Three
"Hermione? Hermione!"
The witch blinked open her eyes, immediately wincing at the pain in her head. "What?" Her vision was a bit blurred, but she could make out the vague shapes that comprised Harry's features hanging over her, and that had definitely been his voice shouting her name in something of a panic, just now.
"My skull's splitting, Harry," she said in a hushed tone, afraid to speak too loud. Hermione scrambled to recall what had happened. "Um . . . ?"
That was when Fenrir Greyback's gaze flashed before her mind's eye. "Greyback! Harry, I don't know what happened. I can't—"
"Shhh, it's okay, Hermione. He got the jump on you, but we caught him!"
Her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of his words. Yes, she remembered turning and finding Greyback there. But then . . . ? Harry assisted her to sit up from where she'd fallen on the boundary between the castle grounds and the Dark Forest. How had he knocked her out? What had happened between seeing him standing before her and his capture? How had the castle even been alerted if she'd been rendered unconscious?
Swallowing hard, she gave a slow shake of her head and climbed to her feet, her movements delicate. There was a strange languidness in her limbs, though, that she couldn't quite understand. The relaxed sensation ran in wild contradiction to the ache in her head.
As Harry slung an arm around her to guide her back to the castle entryway, she tried to self-assess. She still had her wand in-hand, odd if Fenrir had truly gotten the jump on her. Shouldn't disarming her have been his first priority? "I don't remember what happened." It also seemed unlikely that he'd have bothered hitting her with a memory charm, so what . . . ?
"You managed to get off a flare before he knocked you out. I think you're right. He has his eye on you." Harry shook his head, hating that he had to think this way. "Can't see any other reason he didn't kill you, or at the very least try to bite you."
"Where is he now?"
"In the dungeons, currently incapacitated in a heavily warded cell."
As they stepped into the castle's front hall, she frowned, not liking the sound of this at all. Something was wrong. She especially didn't like the idea of Fenrir Greyback and Orias Mulciber in the same space—separate, barred and warded, or not.
"Take me down there, I need to see him."
"Hermione, you're injured. I don't think—"
"Harry, don't protect me on this. Please." Slipping out of his hold, she rounded on him to meet his gaze. "You can come with me, or you can stay here, but I need to see Greyback. Now."
He knew he couldn't understand what this was like for her, or what might be going through her head. She'd been hoping he'd been right and that Fenrir Greyback wasn't fixated on her. He had no idea what to say now that they both knew he was wrong.
"Okay, fine, I won't stop you. But I am going with you."
Breaking into a smile, she nodded. "I knew you'd say that. But you'll wait outside the cells. If he's got some fascination with me, I might be able to get information out of him easier if he thinks I'm alone."
"You're right." Harry frowned, his eyes rolling. "Have I told you how much I hate it when you're right?"
"Hmm . . . ." She tapped a thoughtful finger against her chin as they started across the main floor toward the staircase. "I do believe I've heard that once or twice before from you, yes."
He snickered in spite of his concerns. "Smart arse."
"Why d' I have the feeling you're weren't caught sneaking into the castle by accident, Greyback?"
Fenrir lifted his head, meeting Orias' gaze. Smirking, he shook his head. "I'm sure I've not the foggiest idea what you mean."
Folding his arms across his chest, Orias scowled. "Sure you don't." He didn't like this. He'd been overcome with an edgy sense of something off, and suddenly Fenrir turns up? What was this? Some stupid damn werewolf bullshit? Of course, it probably was. He was still so angry with Greyback for biting him in the first place that he hadn't exactly been thrilled to see the werewolf dragged into the dungeons to keep him company.
Fenrir's smirk widened into a grin. "Ah, ah. Temper, temper, pup."
Dropping his arms, Orias took a menacing—if completely pointless—step toward the bars of his cell. "What did you just call me?"
With a shake of his head, Fenrir sucked his teeth. "You heard me." He held up his hands. "Pup. That's what you are to me, after all. And I can tell you're getting angry."
Orias rolled his eyes. "Is this some stupid werewolf thing that you can tell from my scent, or a feeling in the air, or some such shit?"
"There are those things, sure." Fenrir went right on grinning, still. He could hear her footfalls drawing toward the other side of the door that led to the cells. Mulciber had yet to learn to utilize his senses properly. "But then, there's also your eyes."
"My—?"
The door creaked open, cutting Orias off, mid-question. The witch stepped inside, her movements cautious and her wand drawn. But the scent that followed her in only made Fenrir want to laugh. As if Harry Potter could really stop him if he wanted to do her harm?
"Mulciber?" Seemingly unable to stop herself, she crossed to his cell, coming as close to the bars as she dared.
Wary at her unexpected scrutiny, Orias actually backpedaled a step. Giving her a startled once over, he barked out a particularly demanding, "What?"
Swallowing hard, Hermione shook her head at him. "Your eyes. They . . . they look like his," she said, nodding over her shoulder toward Fenrir's cell.
His face falling, Orias gaped at Fenrir.
Fenrir, for his part, couldn't help a snicker as he shrugged. "I was trying to tell you that you looked angry."
Spinning on her heel to face Fenrir, Hermione frowned. "Oh, stop messing with him. Getting each other riled up isn't going to help either one of you. And I've a bone to pick with you, anyway, Greyback."
"Oh? That sounds fun, actually. What is it, pretty little thing?"
Biting back the most bizarre urge to loose a little growl deep in her throat, the witch again shook her head. As her grip tightened on her wand, she took a step. But just as fast, Mulciber shot an arm out through the bars. Her hair was just wild enough, and his arm just long enough, that he managed to tangle his fist in the locks and pull her backward.
She managed to refrain from hollering in shock—Harry was right outside that door, as promised, and if he ran in just now in a panic, he might do something their side might come to regret—but noted, in the same moment, that Fenrir also looked surprised by the Death Eater's action; this was clearly not something they'd planned. Orias slipped his other arm through the bars, cupping his hand around her jaw.
"Mulciber, what the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked in a hissing breath.
"I don't take well to captivity, Little Witch." He lowered his head, speaking close to her ear. "Strangely, I don't actually want to hurt you. But make no mistake, I will tear your head off if it gets me out of this cell. Now, you're going to unlock this door, and then—"
Hermione blindly jabbed her wand backward into his abdomen, loosing a powerful stinging hex on contact.
Orias reflexively released her as he staggered backward a few steps. "Why you little—!"
"Don't try anything like that, again," she said, her tone lethal as she pivoted to face him, her wand aimed right between his eyes. The witch couldn't help the vicious smile that curved her lips. "And don't you dare think to talk to me that way when you're the one who just tried to take me hostage!"
Fenrir watched the interaction, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back against the wall.
She went on, oblivious to their spectator. "You want to spout some rubbish excuse at me like you don't take well to captivity? Well, I don't take well to expectations that I behave like some damsel in distress!"
"Noted," Orias answered, wincing, still, a snarl in his voice.
"And you!" She turned to face Fenrir, but kept her place equidistance between their cells.
The werewolf's brows shot up, but he only met her gaze in silence as he waited for her to go on.
"I know you're up to something, Greyback."
He laughed, giving a sideways nod. "Oh, really?"
"I don't know what it is, but I can't shake this nagging impression that you are precisely where you want to be." She scowled, nodding at him.
With a sigh that somehow sounded content, Fenrir said, "You could be right, there. But then, perhaps I'm precisely where you want me to be, too."
"Behind bars?" she asked, her brows pinching together. "Yes, I'd say so."
"'S not what I mean, pretty, but we'll pretend you can't possibly know what I'm getting at, for now."
Hermione's eyes narrowed menacingly, but she refused to be lured even a half-step closer to his little cage. Just as she refused to entertain thinking too long and what he might be saying.
"Don't think you can toy with me, Greyback."
That smirk of his returned. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. Not verbally, anyway."
Ignore that, she told herself in a stern voice, pushing herself to focus. "What happened out there in the Forest?"
He feigned a look of hurt. "You don't remember?"
"I wouldn't be asking if I did," she snapped, scowling so hard a Malfoy would be impressed by the severity of the expression pinching her features.
"Sorry. If you can't remember, I can't help you."
She nodded, giving him an angry once-over. "I'll see about whipping up some veritaserum, maybe. Surely that will make you a bit forthcoming."
Fenrir watched as she stormed toward the door. "Oh," he said as she was about to slip from the dungeon, "I'm sure you'll remember all on your own."
Hermione glanced back at him over her shoulder. "And just what makes you 'sure,' Greyback?"
"Just a hunch." Stepping away from the wall, he gripped his fingers around the bars. His amber-eyed gaze holding hers, he whispered, "Sleep on it, maybe."
Ignoring the suggestive tone of his voice, she walked out. Harry slammed the door behind her and locked it.
"Well?" He asked as he followed her through the basement toward the staircase. "Did he say anything useful?"
Chewing her lip, Hermione shook her head. I'm sure you'll remember all on your own . . . . Sleep on it, maybe. Useless nonsense.
"No. Nothing at all."