Chapter 7
Ron shuffled anxiously as Hermione worked on Harry's next disguise.
"Seriously mate, this is wrong. Are you sure all this is necessary?"
Harry turned to look at him, then stilled obediently at Hermione's wordless snarl. The combination of makeup, costuming, and glamours were a delicate procedure – apparently – and he was completely unwilling to risk her ire by causing her to make a mistake.
She was bloody scary when she wanted to be.
Hermione answered for Harry, since she had forbidden him to move, speak, blink or breathe until she was done.
"Yes, it is. We agreed that they were the most likely suspects, but they were each seen at various times when 'Draco' was with Magda. But they were never seen together at those times. And Magda's diary mentioned that 'his' speech seemed to change sometimes. Sometimes it was more formal. She speculated that it depended on how much pressure his family was putting on him, but I think it's simpler than that. I think it was two different people. You have to agree that it makes sense. Since they were both seen independently at those times, clearly they can't be involved. But if they were switching between them…" She trailed off meaningfully, frowning at Harry's face, squinting as she tweaked the glamour slightly.
Harry fought down a chuckle as Ron gave her a flat look.
"I know all that. We discussed it to death last night, remember? I mean this!" He waved at hand at Harry's disguised figure. "It's creepy, and wrong, and I'm going to have nightmares."
Hermione rolled her eyes and patted his arm.
"Yes dear."
Ron huffed and folded his arms across his chest. "When I wake up screaming, I expect you to take full responsibility for your actions."
"Of course. I assume you will also demand hot chocolate and cuddles while I rock you back to sleep? Perhaps a lullaby?"
Harry whimpered. He did not want to know these details about their marriage.
An hour later they were finally ready. It had taken a ridiculous amount of work, but Hermione was finally satisfied with Harry's appearance.
He took one glance in the mirror, then turned away and refused to look more closely. He would never admit it, but it was disturbingly close to some of his nightmares, and he had absolutely no desire to see it in reality.
Watching grimly as Ron downed a vial of Polyjuice, he tried to get into character. He was fortunate that acting had always come naturally to him – even the innocent 'who-me-don't-be-ridiculous-I-can't-even-convincingly-lie' persona he'd shown most often through his Hogwarts years had been fake. It was amazingly easy to control people's perceptions when you could blush on command. It certainly made getting away with things easier.
His introspection was broken at Ron's anxious whine.
"I feel weird."
Harry smirked and handed Ron a set of Draco's clothes. "I'm not surprised. Tell me, how did you enjoy drinking Essence of Draco?"
Ron turned a little green at the phrasing and started pulling on the trousers.
Harry waited a moment, then mused, "I always knew you wanted to get into his pants."
Lucius and Pansy had woken in the cell, the frigid air hurting their chests as they breathed, the moisture seeping into their clothes and chilling them to the bone.
Lucius glanced around as he tested his bonds. He immediately noted the absence of all of his hidden contingencies, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.
Only family members knew of them.
Listening carefully, he could just detect sounds of the ocean, and the tang of salt in the air confirmed his suspicion that they were near the ocean. He smirked. There were only a half dozen places with stone like this located near the sea. When they escaped it would be a simple matter to locate his enemy's stronghold again to exact a little retribution.
He would make them scream like that Thomas bitch.
Pansy had been whining and whimpering since the moment she woke, much to his annoyance. It was a pity she was so weak. But she was pure, and had proved herself useful in identifying and seducing the Thomas bitch, and she was good breeding stock. Maybe after Draco had whelped her he might have a turn or two himself. Narcissa was getting much too independent and opinionated nowadays; she would need to be disposed of soon, and he would need a new toy.
He wasn't sure how long it had been since they woke, but he estimated it was no more than half an hour when he heard footsteps approaching.
'Amateurs.' He scoffed mentally. 'They should have waited significantly longer if they intended to soften me up before interrogation.'
The door creaked open, and Lucius affected his best sneer. Fortunately Pansy had taken his cue and stopped whinging, looking suitably bored.
Looking at the figures that entered the room, Lucius felt the sneer – and blood – drain from his face. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible!
