A/N:
Just to stop any confusion in its tracks, I'd like to mention that
maybe a couple of weeks have passed between chapter seven and chapter
eight. Something important happened, and although I know in my head
exactly what happened I am not going to say in this chapter, and maybe
not ever (if anything, I'll mention it in a later chapter). It's not
too hard to infer, though, because I'd like to think I've given a lot
of clues. It's affected Hermione a lot, because she thinks it's her
fault--you know how Hermione is;) Anyways, i cordially invite you to
use your imagination. :)
Chapter 8
\\\\
If
looks could kill, you'd be lying on the floor
You'd
be begging me please, baby, don't hurt me no more
If
looks could kill, you'd be reeling from the pain
And
you'd never lie again
If
looks could kill.
-If Looks Could Kill-
.Heart.
x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x
"…St. Mungo's is overflowing with wizards and Muggles alike…." Ginny stopped reading and put the Daily Prophet down.
Hermione didn't answer—she had her head buried in her arms on the kitchen table at the Burrow.
Fred came hobbling into the kitchen.
"Fred!" Ginny said sharply. "Get back upstairs and rest!"
"Wa…ater…." He wheezed.
Ginny rolled her eyes. Even with a paralyzed, painfully healing leg, he was a drama king. She grabbed him some water and scowled as she handed it to him.
"Can you feel the love tonight?" He warbled as he disappeared.
Ginny laughed a little at her brother's absurdity, and then turned to Hermione. "Baby, you can't blame yourself. The Death Drinkers—or whatever they call themselves now—are all mostly caught."
"Sod off," Hermione mumbled into her arms.
Ginny sighed and sat down at the table, running a hand through her friend's hair. "Honestly—it's not your fault. If anything, it's Ron and Shacklebolt's fault for dragging their feet."
Before Hermione could answer, the fireplace in the kitchen began to crackle and glow green. The air shimmered, and Tonks appeared.
"No time to mope," She said, quickly analyzing the scene before her. "We have work to do."
Hermione wordlessly sprang up and walked to the fireplace, clutching her wand with white knuckles.
"That's my girl." Tonks grinned. "Malfoy Hideaway. Got powder?"
Hermione nodded, and Tonks vanished.
"Are you insane?" Ginny nearly exploded. "You're practically traumatized! You can't fight more!"
"Not fight," Hermione responded, her voice flat and emotionless. "Just…work." She pinched some powder from the jar on the mantle, stepped in, and said clearly, "Malfoy Hideaway." To her surprised, the flames glowed blue before they turned green and she was whisked away.
Ginny had no choice but to follow.
--
Hermione arrived in the same room she had accessed through the trapdoor.
Tonks stood and grinned at her.
"Why did the flames glow blue?" Hermione asked, almost curiously. Her voice had been dead for days.
"Remember I told you this place was completely sealed to unwanted visitors? We're a restricted fireplace. It's very old magic, and extremely difficult because you have to integrate it into the Floo network. Dumbledore did this one for us. Anyhow, we can decide whether or not to let you in. The fire will glow blue until we accept, in which case it becomes green. If we deny, the flames turn into a normal fire and burn you till you get out."
At that moment, the fire glowed blue. "Ginny Weasley." A strange, somehow eerie voice announced.
"Accepted." Tonks said clearly.
Ginny appeared within seconds. She coughed twice, and looked around. "Where am I? Am I really in a…Malfoy's place?" Her voice was so disgusted when she said Malfoy that Hermione was surprised she didn't choke—although she did have a right to feel that way, almost as much as Hermione herself.
Malfoy chose the absolute wrong time to come striding in with his signature smirk. He stopped when he saw Ginny. "Oy, Weaselette." He said smugly. "How does it feel?" He picked a satin pillow off one of the couches. "I bet this is worth more than your entire house."
Ginny's fists clenched at her sides, and she bared her teeth. Before she could say anything, though, Hermione came to her rescue. "Why don't you pick on someone your own age?"
"Like…you?" He replied. "My pleasure. So, Granger, how is it that—"
"Stop." Tonks said. Her voice wasn't loud, but everyone—including Malfoy, for once—knew it meant business. "Before you two have your usual row, let's get some things straight. As long as we're all working together, we aren't enemies. No enemies—got that? We're all allied against a common enemy. I'm not asking you to be friends, but this means no name-calling." She looked pointedly at Malfoy. "And no being a female dog." She turned her gaze to Hermione. "Is that clear?"
"No," They both answered at once.
"See? You're agreeing with each other already!" Tonks cried gleefully. Her mirthful look then vanished, and her tone hardened. "If you don't agree with me, however, you can both march on out." She pointed to the exits.
"But this is my family's—" Malfoy started to protest.
"March!" Tonks yelled.
"All right, all right, fine," Hermione put in grudgingly. "I'll stay.
"And?" Tonks prompted.
"And not be enemies with Malfoy," She quickly added, making it sound like one huge word instead of six different ones.
Ginny sat, forgotten, on a couch. She got up then, and sauntered over to where Hermione and Tonks were awaiting Malfoy's decision, both hoping for different answers from him.
"Fine," He finally snapped. "But you can't kick me out if I slip. Old habits die hard."
Wow, you're actually admitting to something. Shall we record it for you? Hermione wanted to say, but she bit her tongue to stop herself, almost drawing blood.
"You better not slip too often," Tonks warned. Her tone grew light again. "On that note, let's get started, shall we?" She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
They followed Tonks through the doorway, which led to a hallway of sorts, except that the ceilings were bumpy and made out of what appeared to be rock.
Oh, duh, Hermione thought. We're underground.
Tonks stopped about a quarter kilometer down the hallway. It continued for as far as Hermione could see.
The door of the room Tonks wished to get to creaked open, somewhat breaking the painful silence.
There wasn't anything that appeared to be super special; it was just a normal meeting room, but in much nicer shape than the one at Grimmauld Place.
Tonks took the head seat, while Hermione and Malfoy took either side. Ginny sat to the right of Hermione.
"Our work isn't done," Tonks began. The volume of her voice after so much quiet startled Hermione. "A terrible tragedy occurred a very short while ago. We have captured most of these Death Drinkers, the new generation of the Death Eaters. There are still a few left, though. We have to get them, or else history is bound to repeat itself."
"How? With such dwindling numbers?" Hermione inquired.
Tonks shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid the Ministry isn't always truthful in its pronouncements."
"They lie?" Hermione gasped, horrified.
"Yes, Granger, they lie. People lie." Malfoy said in a bored voice. "They're not all goody two-shoes like you, Granger. Or as naïve."
"Mr. Malfoy." Tonks admonished, her voice sharp and cold. "If you don't mind."
"Question," Ginny put in. "Who's their new leader? I mean, now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is…."
"Immobile?" Tonks offered helpfully. "Their new leader calls himself the Prince of Darkness. Besides that, we have virtually no information on him, except that he constantly carries a dragon-hide flask of something."
"Polyjuice Potion?" Hermione suggested, remembering Bart Crouch Jr. acting as Mad-Eye Moody in fourth year.
Tonks shook her head. "They've thought of that—but it doesn't fit, because this Prince only drinks at certain times which may be days apart and follow some secret chart, not one that would be viable to Polyjuice Potion."
For the next thirty minutes, they made conjectures on what potion the Prince could be drinking, but they made counter-points on almost all of them, and the rest were extremely unpractical.
"We have to move on," Tonks finally cut in, as Ginny and Malfoy were engaged in a heated argument about the effects of the Gibbenreider Potion. "We have to plan."
"So?" Hermione glanced at the woman. "What have you got so far?"
"You lot aren't going to like this much," Tonks began hesitantly. "But the only way I see is another full-on fight."
"What?" Malfoy sneered. "Ickle Granger can't do any physical combat?" His voice was mocking. "Will she break?"
"No, but she could die." Ginny replied sharply.
"Enough." Tonks said firmly. "Hermione, have you got any other brilliant ideas?"
Hermione's expression was deeply concentrating, her face thoughtful. Her mind was whirring, rapidly searching through all her knowledge for a better idea. It hit her like a thunderbolt, crackling and zapping so instantaneously that she jumped to her feet. "I've got it!"
