People lined the streets in downtown London. Shoppers, vendors, tourists, business men, children and the occasional witch or wizard paced the cold ground busy with their day to day lives. Hermione could be found crossing the street dressed in muggle jeans and a shirt. Her eyes flicked from the left to the right whenever she crossed a street; it was as if she was expecting to be pounced on any moment. Shivers went down her spine and she thought about the events of the previous few days. Her first course of action once she regained some composure after being in Voldemorts presence was to do something completely unexpected and something she wasn't well acquainted with.
Get stumbling drunk.
She wasn't an alcoholic and rarely ever drank. But the urge to do something stupid that was completely her choice had overtaken her. A bottle of wine and a shot of Irish whiskey had done the trick. She had slept the night without a dream and had woken up with the worst hangover in all of history. If that was at all possible.
She spent a good portion of her morning with a water bottle and a couple of ibuprofen before finally braving the sunlight outside. It had hurt her eyes and increased the headache. But she needed to get things done. Her next task was to visit a back alley warehouse. Held here was her sword makers shop. She had her katana sharpened, and quietly bid her ally a fond final farewell. She would never be going back there.
That night she found herself staring at photos of her old friends, and her old books. She hadn't touched Hogwarts: A History in such a long time. The urge wasn't there anymore. Only muggle books occupied her mind now. Her eyes had snapped to a drawer in her desk, which seemed to be letting off a silent call to her soul. Hermione sighed and stood crossing the room then opened the drawer. Inside was her wand, wrapped in a dirty piece of fabric. She picked the bundle up fondly and opened it. The wand practically glowed as she moved a finger along the handle then grasped it in her palm.
She'd need the wand again. It had been such a long time since she used it for anything. Even repairing things were done in the muggle fashion.
A tingling sensation ran up and down her wand arm and she lifted the wood to examine it. Not a single finger print blemished the wood. It was perfectly polished and immaculate. The wand was a testament to the organized witch that Hermione always was and always would be. She swung the wand down and watched as it emitted purple sparks; if wands could speak this one would be bubbling over with the chance of being used again.
Hermione turned another corner in London and stared at the swinging sign only she could see. Her hand gripped her wand in her duster a bit tighter and she took a few more steps before entering the Leaky Cauldron. Nothing had changed apparently… witches and wizards laughed together. And no one paid her any mind. She let herself blend into the shadows happy to not be noticed.
One would ask themselves, 'why is a witch, who has been avoiding the wizarding world for so long, walking around in it blatantly?' The correct answer was that Hermione wanted to know what she was getting herself into. What her old world become? Who was who… and who was dead. She walked through the pub and outback then entered Diagon Alley.
Nothing had really changed. Brightly dressed people walked everywhere hurrying along with their business. The occasional goblin entered and exited from Gringotts. Everything appeared happy and normal. Hermione took a deep breath then began to walk forward observing everything around her.
Anything that seems beautiful is often a dangerous thing. Hermione knew this well and it was worth putting into action in a situation like this. On some of the building doors there were posters of wanted people. Hermiones eyes snapped to one in particular.
"Ginny Weasley , wanted for crimes against the Dark Lord as well as against her blood." Hermiones eyes widened as she stared at the sneering girl.
A presence formed behind Hermione and she stiffened.
"You know Granger… she's been giving Our Lord quite a bit of difficulty. She's quite a spitfire that one. Bet it's the red hair. She learn it from you?" Hermione recognized that nasty drawl and turned around.
"Well at least someone's a spitfire Malfoy; better than being a stuck up ferret." What had suddenly gotten into her? She never acted like this anymore; like the girl she was in school. She looked down and shoved past him. Before she could get away into the crowd he spoke again.
"He was amused by your drunken tirade by the way. He hopes you won't do that often though once you're bound." Malfoy's voice became quieter. "And He is still waiting for you. He'll collect you soon Granger. I look forward to it."
Hermione grimaced and muttered under her breath. "I look forward to giving you a good shove in the arse with my foot." She glared ahead and walked towards the bookstore. Was there no privacy anymore? Did the stupid Dark Lord have to meddle in her drunken private affairs now?
The bookstore was blessedly quiet, and only the other occupant was the shopkeeper who was taking a leisurely nap behind the counter. Hermione moved over to one shelf and frowned as she read the titles. Dark magic must have been made more common since the rise of Voldemort. There was even a bibliography of the Dark Lord complete with a moving serpent as the cover decoration. Hermione grimaced and looked at another shelf.
"The Downfall of Harry Potter by Edgar Brown." Hermione sneered at the title and rolled her eyes before turning away and backing out of the shop. So it was the small things that had changed for the wizarding world. A boy selling the Daily Prophet walked past her, and began to bug her to buy one. Reluctantly she pulled out the small amount of wizard money she had and gave it to the boy in exchange for a paper.
Her face turned the color of plaster as she looked at the cover. A photo from her at Hogwarts casting a spell was plastered across the front of the page.
'Hermione Granger, a notoriously powerful witch and muggle born has recently acquired the attention of the Dark Lord. Most assumed the witch to have disappeared or fled upon the death of the Boy Who Once Lived. However, recent sources have confirmed that the witch is in fact a Corpus Tutela and is scheduled to join our Lord by either tonight or tomorrow.'
At this point the article heading was cut off. She hadn't been in the wizarding world for more than a few hours and she was already making headlines? This was infuriating.
Hermione Granger turned on her heel and marched down Diagon Alley and through the pub that led to the Muggle world outside.
The streets of London had a cleared a bit since she left and blinking into the rapidly approaching dark she scowled and began walking.
Two blocks later, Hermione knew something was wrong. Her footsteps seemed to echo as she walked down the street; except it was a double echo. Another pair of shoes was behind her. Trouble was, no one was following her. Or none that she could see. Her grip tightened around the wand in her pocket and she set her mouth into a determined line. So help her if some retarded Death Eater decided to attack her she'd give them something to think about.
Turning yet another corner she found herself by an entrance to a part of the subway system. Still no people were around. It seemed odd but she didn't care too much at that point. Rapidly she descended the steps into the Underground. And that's when someone slammed came out from behind a corner and slammed her into the ground, knocking her wand out of her pocket and onto the floor. Laughter sounded through the room, darkening the area with its intent.
Hermione looked up to see a man dressed in attire as if he were going to a Flogging Molly concert. A gun was held in one of his hands and smirk was across his face.
"So little girl, you like playing with the big bad boys eh? Well, this is what you get for playing assassin and using my boss for target practice." Hermione gulped, wondering how he could have passed her so fast. Her wand was out of reach, and she wasn't used to being unarmed. The man looked down at the wand, and with his gun still trained on her he picked it up, twirling it in his fingers.
"Nice little baton you have here. Pity it won't do you much good." Hermione growled and he laughed again, making the mistake of shutting his eyes in his brutal mirth. She lunged at him, knocking the wand and the gun from his hands. Well… if weapons aren't going to be used in a fight the next best thing was the fist. Hermiones happened to collide with his jaw, making teeth fly out and cut his lip.
"Bitch!" His curse reverberated off the tile walls and she was backhanded for her efforts. She stepped back a few feet, clutching her now broken nose. It hurt like no other. She glared at the man with watering eyes. He was clutching his mouth, not paying much attention to her. Poor fighter… he should know better than to do anything stupid. Hermione moved within range and kicked him in the stomach.
Footsteps were running down the stairs and another man emerged, charging Hermione as her first opponent fell. She had to get to her wand, but she wouldn't make it there in time. Two at once would be a pitiful fight, and they were a lot bigger. She backed up and took the blow that the charging man had for her. That hit to the face would swell for a week. But she was still on her two feet. Until the other man got off the floor and pulled her backwards, knocking her to the tile floor. Her head cracked against the floor, and she could feel a warm wetness building up behind her head. Everything became fuzzy and she blinked a couple of times. The two men were standing above her. She could make out their shapes as one pointed what looked like to be a gun at her head. So this was it.
Hermione moved her lips… almost smiling to herself. "Thou shall not fall…" she whispered to herself.
Loud cracking sounds were heard, and suddenly green flashes crossed Hermiones vision and she saw no more.
