AN: Alright so, I didn't give this chapter the triple once over like I normally do, so there is the possibility of errors and perhaps one day I'll fix them, but not today. I apologise for not updating sooner, normally I have a touch of OCD when it comes to these things, but lately...the gist of the stories is simply eluding me. Thanx for sticking with me. *kisses*
Warning: This chapter contains extreme domestic violence. If that happens to upset your delicate sensibilities, that's fine, but this chapter isn't for you. Consider yourself warned.
Chapter 7 – Game Over
(Hermione)
My face was stinging but I refused to back down, not again. It didn't matter that he didn't come for me. It didn't matter that Ginny or Harry or even stupid Ron hadn't come for me. I didn't need them. I wanted them, but I didn't need them. I wasn't willing to waste my life away while waiting for a rescue which was never going to come.
Taylor's words were ringing in my head. A never ending echo of the threat in his words and I literally saw red. I had always thought people were exaggerating when they said they saw red. I wasn't. Everything was covered in this red haze. I wanted blood and I wasn't going to back down. I didn't run away. I didn't run for Carina. I ran for him.
I shoved him then, knocked him right off his feet. My first instinct was to apologise. How absolutely ridiculous is that? I was so used to cowering; burying myself so far away he'd never me. Taylor had never witnessed my fire. He'd never seen me cast a powerful spell. He'd never seen my anger at its fullest. I suppose there is a first time for everything.
I'd never laid a hand on him before. I was weak. I was broken. It was easy to shatter those who were already broken. I was tired of being a victim. I was tired of letting him win. I was tired of living in fear. I was tired of being his proverbial whipping boy. I was more than that. I was always more than that, even if I couldn't always see it.
The surprise on his face was priceless. He stared at me hard and his blue eyes turned to ice. He was bigger than me. He was stronger than me, but I was a mother and he was threatening my young. It was a silent standoff. My wand, oh how I missed my wand. I could kill him without batting an eye, but Taylor never did like to fight fair.
He came at me as I knew he would. He slapped me, hard. I stumbled back, but kept my bearings. He loomed over me and I was covered in shadow, but I knew just the way he worked. He was waiting for me to cower and beg, but those days were over. I charged at him. He caught me around the waist, but it didn't stop me. I punched him in the stomach feeling a sense of satisfaction as the breath rushed from his thin lips.
My hair was growing in, it was to my chin and it was an easy target. Taylor latched onto it, fisting it so tightly there were tears in my eyes. I kicked his shins and he laughed. I hated his laugh. It reminded me of a pack of hyenas. He wedged his arm under my chin and slammed me into the wall. I struggled with everything I had. He dragged me through the loose stones in the garden, scraping my knees but I refused to cry out. It was only making my life harder. Taylor wouldn't stop until I was writhing in pain, but I didn't care anymore.
It wasn't about winning. It wasn't about beating him as he had beaten me. It was an act of faith. I wanted him to know he hadn't beaten me. He could hit me, kick me, punch me. He could break my bones and keep me locked away in a gilded cage; I was never going to break. I was never going to give up. He reminded me of exactly who I am. One day maybe I'd thank him for waking me from my stupor, but it wouldn't be anytime soon.
I hit the wall so hard I almost forgot to breathe. Lovely, we were inside now; I only hoped Carina slept through the commotion. It was sad, so very sad that my daughter had become quite used to the sounds of my pain. The floor was hard and unforgiving beneath my bleeding knees, but I managed to lurch to my feet.
I laughed in his face when my knee crushed his pitiful manhood. It was pitiful, that's why he was so angry. It's the only thing which made sense to me. I'd be angry if I were male and had that poor excuse of a cock. I didn't laugh long. He'd caught me in a headlock and shoved my face into the wall. I couldn't breathe and all I could think of were my children. I couldn't subject them to a life with him. They didn't deserve that. They didn't deserve any of this.
Merlin what was I thinking? For a short moment in time, I had forgotten. How could I have forgotten about my son? My son, not Taylor's son, not even Malfoy's son, mine and I had forgotten. Even if I stopped fighting, Taylor would continue. I had infuriated him and the idea of his child was long gone from his mind. I was in danger, but more than that my son was in danger and it was my fault. For someone so smart, I can be so stupid.
I elbowed his stomach, wriggling even as he squeezed tighter. My face was trapped between the wall and his hard chest. If I could move my head just a little more…there. Skin between my teeth, chomping down hard even as he screamed in pain laced with rage. He slammed me into the wall and let go. I slid to the floor, gasping in lungfuls of precious air.
"You ungrateful bitch. You're nothing without me. Who else would raise your bastard daughter like she was their own? No one else would pick up the trash and take it home with them. I'll let this one slide. Surprised you had it in you."
"Fuck you, you murdering son of a bitch." I shouldn't have said that. I was so fucking angry, it took over. Taylor snarled, his upper lip twitching while he massaged the hole in his chest. I spit the slivers of his skin onto the floor, resisting the urge to pick out the others wedged between my teeth.
"I think we'll go home with Pixie. We'll stay there for a bit until you have the baby. My real parents would love to meet my son..."
"He's not your son." I blinked. I shouldn't have blinked. I turned from him, I shouldn't have done that either. Carina was whimpering in the nursery and it drew my attention away from the danger.
I don't know how many times he hit me. I lost count. I felt my ribs crack, my nose break and my eyes were quickly swelling shut, but he kept on. I didn't have the strength to move. The floor was so cool against my broken body. The wall was so rough and hard behind my back. Taylor had lost his mind.
"He's my son. He's MY son. He's my SON." He chanted it over and over as I grunted upon the force of his boots into my ribs. I coughed, spitting up blood while wondering if I'd live to see tomorrow. Eventually I just covered my head, trying to protect myself the best I could. I curled into the tightest ball, hoping my knees would protect my son, but I couldn't help but wonder if I was kidding myself.
"Taylor. Oh Merlin, Taylor what have you done? Stop! Stop it! You'll kill her. Father will not be willing to clean up your messes again. We've got to go." It was a high feminine voice. I didn't recognise it. It didn't matter; it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Instead of focusing on the voices carrying, I thought of Draco. If I was going to die, I wanted to picture him safe, warm and happy, surrounded by our children. It was all I had left.
"You can't Taylor. There's an owl! They must have known I was coming. We have to leave, right now. I'll lower the rest of the wards." Taylor said something, but I couldn't hear him.
I heard the crack of Apparition before the humming in my ears began. Carina was caterwauling. She was hungry, but I couldn't feed her. I couldn't move. I couldn't even cry. My son was dying. I could feel the blood seeping through my torn jeans. My abdomen was contracting with a familiar pain and I couldn't move.
"Mummum! Bird! Oh, owie!" Carina, oh it's Carina. I didn't want her to see me like this. I didn't know how she escaped the nursery, but there she was, squatting in front of me. She sat near my head, patting my face and placing wet kisses on my brow.
I should have taken The Spirit. I should have walked to London. I should have done something, anything, other than this. I shouldn't have fought with him. I should have just taken my punishment like a good little punching bag.
"Mummum, lookit! Bird!" I wondered if I was going to see her grow up. She's just a baby really. If help didn't come, I'd be nothing more than a faded memory and it broke my heart.
A tawny owl fluttered around the shambles which used to be my house. It landed near Carina and she squealed, trying to capture it. I couldn't untie the parchment from the owl's leg and it was like she knew it. She hopped to my hand, pecking it lightly. I bit back the scream while I dragged my hand to the envelope. I placed my palm on it, leaving a perfect handprint in blood. I remembered thinkings 'feathers' before I didn't think of anything anymore.
(The Discovery)
Harry Potter was sitting at his desk in the Auror Division at the Ministry with his head in his hands. It was a sad, sad day when he was forced to retreat to his office in order to escape the wrath of his wife. It wasn't his fault Hermione hadn't sent an owl. She'd never missed a month before, but what was he supposed to do about it?
"Hiding from your spitfire again, eh Potter?" Harry glanced over the top of his spectacles to see the burly figure of Blaise Zabini propped in his doorway. It was easy to be friendly to the richly tanned Slytherin. He had a jovial manner about him, which while it was unexpected, it was welcome.
"You're never going to call me Harry, are you Blaise?"
"Definitely not. Wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression." Blaise winked and made himself at home. "I sent her an owl." There wasn't any need for him to explain to whom he was referring.
"How'd you manage that?" Harry learned forward, bracing his arms on the piles of spread parchment on his desk, paying rapt attention.
"You really are quite inept without her, aren't you? I sent the bloody owl to Cornwall. You said that's where she is..."
"I don't know if she's still there. Ginny wasn't able to Apparate to the address she had, the wards had been strengthened, but Hermione wouldn't have done it and Johns is a Squib, so…"
"Pixie. She might be a tits loving, fanny munching bint but she's quite adept when it comes to protection spells. It was a necessary evil in order to hide her predilections."
"Malfoy's ex-wife likes girls?"
"Likes is an understatement, but we're getting off-track. I borrowed Ginny's owl. I wanted to send one that had been in the general area at one time. It's a stretch, I'm aware, but it's better than nothing."
"If the wards are that strong, it won't be able to breach them any better than any other owl, Zabini."
"Potter, Potter, Potter, when are you going to learn? I'm a Slytherin, which means I'm smarter than you, better looking than you, I know how to use my cock and the most important factoid; I'm cunning which is exactly what this situation requires."
"Why must you always resort to insults? It's not exactly conducive to anything is it?"
"I'm genetically engineered to mock everyone that is not a Slytherin. Get used to it. I don't work for the Ministry. I'm not their Golden Child poster boy. I don't want to be either." Blaise shuddered and then he smiled, nice and slow.
"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Harry tented his fingertips beneath his chin, bracing himself.
"You don't have to like it, you simple can't repeat it. I'd don't relish the idea of a stint in Azkaban because you couldn't keep your mouth shut."
"Christ, what did you do?"
"Who's Christ?"
"It's a Muggle…oh never mind! Get on with it then!" Blaise snickered. He couldn't help it really. It was entirely too easy to rile up Harry and he wasn't able to resist whenever an opportunity arose.
"I can't give you all the specifics, or any of them, you just have to trust me Potter."
"You've got to give me something Blaise!" Blaise crossed his arms, refusing to yield, though he changed his tune almost immediately when Harry pulled out the whisky.
"I brought Pansy in on it and before you read me a riot act I'll ignore, it was necessary. No one's better at Charms than she is. Well, I mean Granger probably, but she's not here. She used a uhm, well, an obscure spell…don't ask, you don't want to know, and she Charmed the owl itself."
"Why, why would she do that? Why would that help us?" Harry poured a liberal tumbler of whisky and passed it to Blaise.
"She's Johns' sister, did you know that? Pixie is the baby of the family and a right twat. You've always had Granger and Weasley. It was always Draco, Pansy and me. We couldn't fix Draco anymore than you could fix Granger. Maybe this will help. We take care of our own and well, Granger, she's alright I suppose. I mean, she's completely irritating and she never shuts up, but Draco loves her and that's all I need to know."
"I always thought Pansy was in love with him."
"Oh she was, but that was a long time ago. Once she found out about her brother, she basically told her parents to fuck off. I'm not saying she's completely dismissed all that pureblood ideology, but she's made some progress. She actually fancies…what the fuck is his name?" Blaise snapped his fingers while he thought and Harry shrugged. "Ravenclaw kid, uhm..Roger yeah, Roger Davies. He's a little full of himself, but I don't see him much."
"Not that this isn't absolutely riveting, it is in a strange…I think I've had enough libation sort of way, but I'd really like to get back to Hermione."
"Hey, Potter? I think we're pissed." Blaise whispered conspiratorially.
"I know, ssshhh, don't tell Ginny."
"Pan-Pansy got a strand of Johns hair. She fused it to the owl to confuse the wards."
"How?!"
"Tsk tsk tsk," Blaise waggled his finger, "if I tell you, I have to kill you. We sent special parchment with it. If she touches it, the location will appear on this." Blaise removed a square of parchment from his back pocket and waved it in Harry's face.
"Why don't you work for the Ministry? You'd be a real asset. This is incredible work!"
"One, I don't want too. Two, the Ministry frowns upon my methods. Three, I don't have a three but I still don't want too." He laughed, attempting to imagine himself working for the bloody Ministry when the parchment glowed in his hand, spinning through a kaleidoscope of colours. Blaise stared at it, swallowing hard. "Potter, we've got to go. The owl made it through."
"Holy shit. Wait, let me gather a team and I have to..."
"There's no time Potter, we have to go, NOW. That ruddy owl is going to the Manor. Draco's going to figure it out and we can't have him arrive before us." Blaise pulled his wand from his pocket and laid the parchment carefully onto Harry's desk.
"Well, why not? It's not..."
"Harry! Blue is safe. Yellow is caution. Red is danger. Green is…well I don't remember…"
"What's gold then?" Blaise didn't answer, swallowing hard. "Blaise, what's gold?"
"Portus." Blaise pointed his wand at the parchment with an address burned into it and sighed. "Dying. Gold is dying. We have to leave." Harry grasped the scrape of paper the same moment Blaise's fingertips touched the corner and they were swept away.
(Hermione)
"Oh you poor dear." My eyes refused to open. My entire body was numb and I was so grateful. Numb was better than allowing myself to succumb to the pain and scream. I'd already done that. I hoped Carina was alright.
"M..mm…" I knew her voice. It would be impossible not to know her voice. Mara. Mara the Nanny had arrived and if I was lucky she wouldn't give up on me.
"Don't try to speak, dear. I've phoned for some help, they should be here soon. It wouldn't be wise to Apparate you anywhere in your condition. No, not at all. I'm so sorry, I feel just terrible. I knew. I should have done something. I thought after Carina it would be alright. What a fool I've been. They don't stop, they never stop. Don't you worry about Carina. I'll take good care of her. Taylor never was interested in coming up to my cottage. The wards rival the ones here. I'll bring her somewhere if you like. If there's someone…I mean, do you have anyone? I'm being silly, you can't answer me." She stopped talking. I needed her to keep talking. She was keeping me alive and she didn't even know it.
"G..G.." Ginny! I wanted to shout. I wanted Ginny. I needed Ginny. I trusted Ginny with my life, with my daughter's life. If I died, I wanted her to raise Carina. She'd be a good mother to her. She'd love her the way I would love her. I couldn't ask for more than that. "Gin.."
"Gin? Oh do you mean Ginny, Ginny Potter? I can't say I know the girl, but I've sent those packets of photographs for you for months. I can send her an owl if you like. Oh I do believe the Muggle Healers are here. I can never remember what they're called." Mara, bless her heart, squeezed my hand so tightly I could feel it. I figured considering how battered and broken my body was, that was a pretty fantastic feat.
There were so many noises it was impossible to separate them from each other. The shuffling of feet, shouts, gasps of horror all blended together until it was only me, floating high in the air until everything slipped into a peaceful, comforting darkness.
(The Discovery)
Harry and Blaise landed behind a pub and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Blaise had failed to mention the magic wasn't perfect. They didn't land in Hermione's back yard or even in the vicinity of her dwelling, as far they knew.
"Well now what?!" Harry threw his hands in the air, obviously disgruntled. He knew he had been rash in his decision to simply believe Blaise Zabini and his Grey Magic.
Blaise shrugged and walked straight into the pub. He eyed the salty barkeep before taking a stool. The other patrons ignored him, sipping their pints and having a bit of a laugh. Casually he laid his wand on the worn bar, winking at the old man called Sam by a particularly loud customer. Sam inclined his head, slowly limping toward the tanned Italian. Blaise reached into his pocket, pulled out a galleon and rolled it between his hands.
"What'll ya have?" Sam was missing a few of his bottom teeth and his grey hair was straggly but there was a glint of wariness in his dark eyes.
"Firewhisky." The barkeep nodded and poured a liberal shot, placing it between Blaise's hands, snatching the galleon with surprisingly nimble crooked fingers.
"Zabini! What the bloody hell are you doing?!" Harry finally burst through the door of the pub, his green eyes blazing.
"Oi, Sam. You ever hear of a bloke goes by Taylor Johns?" Blaise pretended Harry didn't exist. It was a game he played often, but currently he wanted information and he wasn't about to allow himself to become distracted.
"Ach, that Johns. Nasty piece o' work. Comes here and sits a bit. Doesn't work s'far as I know. Bit of a braggart, 'specially when it comes ta his wife. N'er seen 'er, but uh af'er a few drinks he gets to talkin' bout how he smacks her 'round a bit. They live up the hell a ways. Mara is their Nanny. She's my daughter-in-law." Blaise tossed a few galleons on the bar.
"We're friends of Mrs Johns. We believe she's in grave danger…"
"Oi, Bobby! Put your bloody pint down and take these here wizards up to Mara's. They're goin' to rescue that Johns girl." Sam shouted over the bar and a short, squat, balding man slammed his pint onto the round table and headed out the door. Blaise and Harry quickly followed him as he weaved the streets until they came to a path leading to a smattering of quaint homes.
"Mara Andrews lives o'deer." Bobby pointed a white and brown cottage with a small garden near the bottom of the hill. "Johns lives up deer." The moment Blaise and Harry looked to where Bobby was pointing a flurry of red sparks erupted over the furthest cottage. "Seems you a lil late. Best git to it then." Bobby ambled away as quickly as he came; leaving Blaise and Harry to rush up the incline.
"Helpful lot, ain't they?" Blaise huffed while sprinting in irritation.
"Wankers."
(Hermione)
The night air felt cool on my face and for a moment I wondered where I was. I could hear the harsh breaths beside me and realised I was being carried. Oh yes, the joy of Muggle Healers and their hard, unforgiving contraptions that jostled my every broken bone.
"MUM UM UM!" Gods, Carina, my baby must be so scared. I would have cried, I felt the need to cry but the tears were an impossibility. The Muggles had given me something. My eyelids were lead, my body immobile and still I yearned for Carina.
My magic was volatile. There had never been a time when Muggle drugs and I ever got along. I remembered the first time I ever showed an aptitude for magic. My parents of course were completely terrified but after a friendly visit from Dumbledore he explained the issue. It should have been a routine dental visit. I was used to them of course. It was impossible not to be when your parents are dentists. I had cleanings all the time, but it was my first cavity. I couldn't have been more than five or six. I was a little scared, but I trusted my dad. He had always been gentle. Incredibly quiet, but gentle and that was just fine with me. The shot of Novocain hurt more than I expected and my dad's instruments jumped on the tray.
"Well look at that Jeanie, my instruments just want to dance right into that pretty little mouth of yours." I remembered kicking my feet and giggling but I wasn't any less nervous.
When my dad put a sharp instrument in my mouth, the light bulbs shattered. I was crying by then and my dad tried to explain it away but he was afraid. I could see it in his eyes. He was afraid of me. He held his hands up and smiled, slowly backing away from me and I got angry. Something shifted in the air and I didn't understand it at the time, but I did now. It crackled and my hair stood on end. I didn't understand it any better than he did, but the fact he was backing away from me, that hurt the most. He was my dad. He was supposed to protect me and love me. I remember I blinked and he was across the room and it was covered in red sparks.
The way I felt, lying on the blasted Muggle stretcher, reminded me of that day in my dad's dental practice. The slight breeze was turning into a blistering wind and as they placed me inside the screaming ambulance, it happened.
"OO Pit-ee!" Oh Carina my love, yes I'm sure they're pretty, but the Muggles are afraid of me now. I wished I could see the adoration in her face. She had always loved anything pretty and this was no exception I'm sure.
"Well, so much for that." Mara chuckled, though I failed to see anything humorous about the situation. Not that I was capable of seeing anything anyway. "Obliviate."
(It's All F.U.B.A.R.)
Taylor Parkinson Johns allowed himself to be mindlessly dragged into his family's estate home. The particulars of the day's events were still terribly hazy and his head pounded something awful, but it was easier to be led then to think of what he had done. It was an accident, at least to his way of thinking. She brought on herself, that was the mantra he chanted in order to justify his actions.
His intention hadn't been to lose his temper so severely. He just wanted to teach her a lesson. His only agenda had been to teach Hermione how to be a good wife, a proper wife. It wasn't his fault she was obstinate. It wasn't his fault she needed to be properly trained.
He needed her to prove to his family he was worthy of their love. He couldn't very well introduce her as a War Heroine if she couldn't even present a proper tea service. His father would be appalled. If she hadn't angered him with that bloody letter, it would have been alright. Taylor knew he had sufficiently tied her down. It didn't matter that the girl wasn't his child. Carina was a pretty girl, she'd grow into a beautiful woman and they'd ensnare an unassuming husband that could be easily influenced. The boy on the other hand, that was a completely different story. Taylor imagined if the boy was magical; his father would welcome him with open arms, finally offering the family a worthy heir.
It's all he ever wanted. He wanted his father to finally forgive him for killing his bastard sister. It was an accident, why couldn't his father understand? He'd spent the rest of his life trying to erase that one moment in time. Taylor's head hit his chest as he heard the familiar clip of his father's shoes against the shining stone.
"What is the meaning of this?" Taylor cringed, covering his head with his arms, the way he always had during confrontations with his father.
"Daddy, Taylor's gone and done it again." Pixie sighed dramatically, throwing herself into her father's arms. "I didn't know what to do. He's made such a mess of things. He beat her daddy. Beat her senseless. I've never seen anything like it. I don't know what he was thinking. There I was trying, trying to contact my big brother and reestablish a relationship with him and he was standing over her just kicking and kicking. Oh daddy, it was horrid. I thought he was better, daddy."
Ramses Parkinson patted his daughter's back slowly, his dark eyes never leaving his contrite son. When he learned his son had married, Ramses had truly believed there was hope for his oldest child, his only son. His Muggle relatives had simply oozed elation in their correspondence. While Ramses was pleased with the new development, quite honestly he was waiting for his son's perversion to come rising back to the surface and he was not disappointed.
It wasn't that Ramses Parkinson didn't love his son. He did, which was why he had sent the boy away in the first place. He knew there was something amiss with the child from the time he was small. Leticia wouldn't hear of it. She doted on him as if he were the only thing in her world which mattered and perhaps he was.
His wife was the perfect breed of pureblood. He couldn't have asked for anything more, or rather his father couldn't have asked for anything more. Ramses had his eyes set on Narcissa Black, but her father being an impertinent man deemed Lucius Malfoy a more acceptable match. No matter, he showed them by bedding Narcissa a scant fortnight before her nuptials leaving her with his seed.
Of course he hadn't been aware it had blossomed into that little girl, but it came to light as all things do. Apparently the girl, Lyra, was magical, which was more than could be said for Taylor. Ramses had been rough with the boy, he admitted as much after his wife confronted him, but it was necessary. He had grown tired of explaining away the absences of his daughters' pets. Taylor had killed them in various ways, all of which disgusted him. Ramses had suspected Taylor was a Squib, but Taylor was his son, his heir. He couldn't discard the boy, until Lyra.
Taylor had flown into a rage upon learning Lyra was only a handful of months younger than him and bound for Hogwarts. He demanded his father introduce them properly and Ramses complied. It was a colossal error and in the end it cost more than his pride. It cost his eldest daughter her life and for that there was no redemption.
"What have you done? Tell me you haven't murdered yet another innocent witch." Ramses tried to maintain control, keeping his voice low and soothing, regardless of the words. His mother had often told him, it wasn't what was said it was how it was said and it often proved to be true.
"She wasn't innocent!" Taylor shouted, his voice warbling, his hands shaking as he rose to his feet. He wondered for a moment when had he crumpled, before dismissing it completely.
"Who was she?" Ramses sat in the high backed chair near the hearth, crossing his long legs. Pixie sniffed with disdain as she did toward all things she considered beneath her, yet she sat beside her father and smoothed the skirt of her puce robes.
"My wife, it was just my wife. I have the right to discipline her however I see fit." Taylor smiled, a toothy sort of grin and crossed his arms in belligerence.
"Oh Taylor, must I constantly play these games? Be forthcoming and tell me the woman's name so I may clean up your mess once more."
"Hermione Granger." Ramses choked on his goblet of mead, wiping the droplets from his chin and groaned.
"This is a joke, isn't it? He has to be lying, right daddy?" Pixie's voice had always been high and nasally yet as her upset raised so did the octaves of her voice. As of now, Ramses was quite sure even the dogs were howling in discontent.
"I surely hope so my dear. If not, we are…how would you say? Oh yes, supremely fucked."
