An update! At long last! Sorry about that guys, but it's here now.
This chapter was Edited by the immeasurably talented Catherine Morgenstern. Thanks, dear.
(I've included the last few lines of the previous chapter)
"Where are we?" She heard Rabastan pant to the sky.
Regulus shrugged, still looking around distractedly.
Hermione glanced around in growing horror. Her gaze snagging on the rocks. On the mountain. The seething sea. The hut.
"We're in the painting." She gasped.
Chapter Three
Rabastan whipped his head around to face her. "What the fuck do you mean?" The wind pulled the words from his mouth the moment he opened his lips.
Hermione swallowed. "That woman in the shop had a painting just like this. We were leaning against it when that wall of magic squashed us."
She watched as the two Death Eaters exchanged a glance. It was the kind that only people who knew each other well shared. She recognised it at once. Her, Harry and Ron hand learnt to communicate in the same silent way.
"Apparate on three," Regulus said.
Hermione felt her eyes widen as fear pressed her shoulders down. Her gaze darted from Regulus to Rabastan, who was climbing to his feet and readying his wand.
"One, two-"
"Wait!" She took a wobbly step toward them. "I don't have my wand."
She saw the moment they heard her words and what they meant. And she also the saw the moment they chose to ignore them.
"Three."
Nothing happened. They didn't flicker or shimmer or move a single inch. But they did look furious as they tried again with the same result. Hermione felt her lips curve into a bitter smile. At least now she knew where she stood: on her own, with two lethal Death Eaters willing to abandon her to whatever fate decided to throw her way. She pulled her gaze away from the angry men and onto the ramshackle hut in the distance.
She couldn't remain on the beach. The wind was cutting through her clothes like a knife and she was shaking like a leaf. She was already frozen to the core, making her feel as though her bones were made of ice. She folded her arms around her body and began to make her way towards the only shelter in sight. The sand sucked at her feet as she trudged forwards.
"Where the fuck are you going?" Rabastan called after her.
Hermione ignored him.
"Granger," he snarled.
She huffed out a breath and spun around, fixing them both with a disgusted look. "Not that it's any of your business, seen as you were both planning to leave me here, but I'm going to that hut to get out of this bloody wind!"
She saw Rabastan's lips twitch into a smirk and she narrowed her eyes, daring him to say something. Beside him, Regulus began walking towards her, his arctic eyes flicking from her to the hut beyond. She held her breath when he passed by and pushed her feet into the sand to stop herself from flinching away. She remained that way until Rabastan strolled towards her.
"You coming with us?" His lips twitched from the smirk and into a smile.
"It's bloody windy out here."
She scowled at their retreating backs. The arrogance of Purebloods never ceased to amaze her. They truly believed they owned the world and all it contained. She shook the drenched strands of hair out of her face and started to walk. By the time she made it to the hut, both Rabastan and Regulus were inside. Although, she doubted the rough wooden walls that displayed gaps the size of her hand would be able to offer them too much protection from the raging wind. The door wasn't much better either. It hung off one hinge and was half rotten at the top and bottom. She grabbed the squishy wood and pulled it open, half expecting the hut to topple into a pile of rubble.
Regulus and Rabastan filled the small square space. Their black robes added to the shadowed interior and made it appear darker than it actually was. Weak, yellow light filtered in from a broken window on the opposite wall. The only furniture the hut contained were two small beds set in the corners and a lopsided table that stood beside the door. To her right there were black smudges on the floor and wall. In the ceiling above there was a hole that made a sucking sound every few seconds. The floor was a combination of sand and dirt, ground into a bumpy surface.
"Just in time to see us undress," Rabastan commented.
Hermione huffed in annoyance. "Why on earth would I want to see that?"
She crossed her arms and glared at the smirking Death Eater.
"Oh believe me, darling girl, everyone wants to see that." He leant towards her and winked. "Even you."
She scoffed and turned away just as he began to pull off his robe. Her gaze collided with a shirtless Regulus who appeared to be either oblivious or uncaring at her presence. He had his back to her and she watched mesmerised as the ropey muscles moved under his skin. When he reached to undo his trousers, she spun around until she faced the door. She heard Rabastan chuckle and the sound caused her cheeks to flush, turning them a fiery red.
"Why can't you just dry yourself with a charm?" she muttered over her shoulder.
"Now, why didn't we think of that?" Rabastan grumbled. "Oh, right, we did and it didn't fucking work."
Hermione frowned. "Maybe it's the salt water affecting the magic."
"Can you believe her, Reg?" The sound of sliding fabric reached her ears.
"Two naked Death Eaters not two feet from her and she's speculating on the cause of our fucked up wands."
The receding blush returned to her face and she pursed her lips to prevent an angry retort from spilling out of her mouth.
"Okay, Granger, your turn."
Her eyes widened at Rabastan's words. "I am not taking my clothes off in front of either of you."
"Then you'll freeze." Regulus' unconcerned voice reached her ears and she winced. It was just so hard to believe that he was related to Sirius. They were so different; it seemed impossible that they grew up together. There wasn't a hint of charm or warmth peeping out of his grey eyes.
"I won't freeze. We'll start a fire and-"
"Without magic?" Lestrange interrupted from directly behind her.
Hermione tensed as she felt the heat of him move closer. She stared stoically at the wall and said through gritted teeth, "There are ways to make fire without magic."
Rabastan hummed his agreement into her ear. "Indeed there are," he murmured.
Hermione pressed her lips together and refused to answer him. Her stupid cheeks felt like they were melting.
"Is there a reason that you're still staring at the wall?" Lestrange asked, "Might it be that you're afraid to look at us?"
"Don't be absurd." She slid away from Rabastan and turned around but dropped her gaze to the floor. "I'm going to find some wood."
"But darling girl, I have some right here."
"Oh for goodness sake," she snapped, lifting her eyes to glare at the smirking Lestrange. "This isn't a joke this is…" The words faded to dust when she saw that they were both naked from the waist up. They'd at least had the decency to wrap the threadbare blankets around their hips.
She blinked, absorbing the sight of their lean muscles and smooth skin. Regulus was pale and she could see faint purple smudges scattered across his ribs and chest. Fading bruises caused by who knew what. Rabastan's skin was a light caramel colour and lined with fine scars. They marched up and down his torso in precise lines. There were more than Hermione could count at a glance.
"Like what you see, Granger?" Rabastan said, slinging his arm over Regulus' shoulder.
Hermione's eyes flicked from the inside of his forearm to Regulus', where the dark mark was emblazoned on their flesh. "No. I don't like what I see at all."
Before either of them could reply, she marched out of the hut and towards the twisted trees that the beach backed onto. The ice-laced wind tore at her clothes and hair, tightening her skin to the point of pain. Her ears filled with the sound of crashing waves. It was a relentless noise that tugged at her nerves and made it difficult to hold onto a clear thought. She pulled in a breath, wincing when the cold air filled her throat. It felt like she was swallowing splinters of ice. She pressed a fist to her chest, the air was so cold that it felt like her lungs were burning.
Closing her eyes, she hunched over and cursed the trees. They didn't look like they were getting any closer, if anything they looked further away. She scrunched up her face and forced her shaking legs to move faster, determined to reach them before she froze. The chattering of her teeth became louder than the rushing waves and she fell into utter misery. Every step rattled her bones and she was so cold that she couldn't feel her feet or hands.
It took longer that it should have, but eventually she reached the leafless trees. The trunks were gnarled and an odd grey colour that sucked up the light. They had grown so close together that the branches had entwined and formed a knotty canopy that creaked and groaned when the wind hurtled through it. The ground was littered with broken twigs and branches and Hermione almost wept at the sight. At least she wouldn't have to spend time gathering them. She sank to her knees and began to pull them into a pile. When it was as big as she could make it, she scooped them up and climbed to her feet.
The broken ends dug into her chest and several fell from the top to hit her feet. The walk back was, if possible, even more torturous. Fierce gusts of wind blew sand into her face, the sharp edges scratching her skin. She had to duck her head and squint her eyes in the end. Every few steps she would look up to check where she was going. The entire time she was trying to recall what she knew of lighting fires without flint or matches. Tinder was needed and she recalled seeing a stick notched into a piece of wood and then rolled between the palms of the hand. Whomever had occupied the hut before them had clearly managed to make a fire. The blackened smudges proved that.
The roar of the waves filled her head, incessant as a buzzing insect. She scowled, cursing the waves, her shaking limbs, the hair that kept whipping into her eyes and the two Death Eaters who hadn't bothered to help her search for wood. In a thoroughly bad mood, she reached the door and kicked it open.
Black and Lestrange were sitting on the beds, wrapped up in the thin blankets. Hermione narrowed her eyes and dropped the pile of wood.
"Have you searched everywhere?" she demanded.
Rabastan made a point of looking around. "Well, we didn't dig up the ground but we-"
"Did you find anything?" Hermione interrupted, turning to Regulus. He was the more sensible of the two and she had a feeling he wouldn't find the situation the least bit amusing.
"No." His pale fingers pinched the blanket. "But clearly the hut has been occupied at some point."
"Yes." Hermione bent down to pick up some of the smaller sticks. "Maybe they left something outside?"
Lestrange cocked his eyebrow. "As soon as you've started the fire you can go check." He winked in that insufferably cheeky way that she was beginning to hate.
Instead of reacting, she made her way to the smoke-smudged corner and began to arrange the thinnest twigs in a small pile. "I might need you to tear some strips off one of the blankets," she murmured. "And I need to find a flat board, preferably with a hole that I can twist the stick in." She was talking to herself more than Lestrange and Black, but she did hear the sound of fabric tearing.
When she looked up, it was to see Rabastan walking towards her. Despite his earlier teasing, he appeared to be interested in what she was doing. She averted her gaze when he came closer, too aware of his bare skin and heat to feel comfortable. In his hand there was a small scrap of ragged fabric. Hermione was about to reach for it when the ground began to shake. The room tilted, knocking Hermione and Rabastan off their feet. She glanced to the side and saw Regulus holding onto the edge of the bed with a murderous expression.
Everything was moving. She could feel the ground rolling and shuddering. And then it went dark. The world stilled and Hermione could see nothing. Not a speck of light penetrated the thick blackness, it felt solid and oppressive.
"She turned the painting," Regulus' voice broke the silence.
At his words, Hermione felt her confused fear slide away. Of course that's what had happened. It made perfect sense. She could even imagine the old woman's face pulled into a malicious smile, her copper eyes bright and full of spite as she flipped the canvas over.
"Fuck." Rabastan's deep murmur came from just beside her. "I'm going to kill that bitch the first chance I get."
Hermione widened her eyes, trying desperately to peer through the dark. It was impossible. A hand reached across and collided with her hip. It was so unexpected that she let out a startled screech.
"It's just me," Rabastan muttered, patting his hand up until he reached her arm.
"What do you think you're doing?" Hermione demanded as his fingers circled her bicep.
Rabastan huffed something unintelligible beneath his breath, before pulling in an exaggerated sigh. "Calm down. It's too dark to start a fire or look around. We're going to have to wait until the old hag turns the painting again."
"That doesn't explain why you have a hold of my arm," she snapped, trying to tug away from him.
"I have your arm, darling girl, because I am going to lead you to the bed where we can sit and wait until this fucking event is over," he hissed, clearly about to lose his temper.
"But-"
"Will you both stop bickering and sit on the fucking bed," Regulus coolly interrupted.
Hermione was about to open her mouth to protest, when Rabastan pulled her forward. She stumbled, crashing into him, her cheek connecting with his ribs.
"Fuck!" He leapt away. "Your skin feels like ice."
He was right. Her skin did feel icy and she was colder than she'd ever been before. Biting her lip, she felt the burn of impending tears as their predicament finally sank in. She was stuck in a painting with two Death Eaters, wandless and freezing. Nobody knew where she was and if she didn't strip out of her wet clothes very soon, hypothermia would set in and she would die.
Misery rose up to engulf her and the first treacherous tear fell. Her head filled with visions of Ron and Harry facing Voldemort without her, of the Order believing her dead. She couldn't allow that to happen. She wouldn't.
Straightening her spine, she turned her head in the direction of Rabastan, refusing to be embarrassed about doing what was necessary to survive.
"I need to take off my clothes and then I'm going to lie on the bed. One of you will have to lie with me." She shuffled in the direction of one of the beds. "I don't care which, but I'm going to have to share your blanket and body heat."
Silence met her words. She ignored it, instead continuing to inch forward until her shins met the bed. As soon as she felt it, she began to strip off her clothes. First her jeans and then her jumper. She left her bra and knickers on. Without giving herself a single second to think, she crawled onto the bed, turned her back to the room and waited.
Twenty long seconds crawled by and then she felt the bed creak as someone climbed onto it. The rough blanket was tossed over her and a warm chest pressed against her back. An arm looped over her waist and warm breath brushed the back of her neck.
Hermione remained as still as possible, staring into the pitch-black and praying that the whole thing was a dream.
So, I've decided to do something slightly different with this fic. You may have noticed that I didn't say who had climbed into bed with Hermione, that was deliberate, I'm leaving the decision up to you guys. I'll be doing it at several points in the story. Sooooo, who do you want in bed with Hermione? Regulus or Rabastan? (Don't worry, this is a triad and they'll all be in there together at some point, but not yet)
You can either leave your answer in the review box (please do review ;) or message me on tumblr (jheeley). Thanks and take care!
