Hey to everyone who is following this story! I really appreciate everything you say and thanks so much for sticking with it. So here we go… on with chapter eleven. Again I own nothing, that privilege is still Ms. Rowling's!
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The scream that pierced the air lingered and echoed in the still night. Lucius was still frozen on the spot, scared to turn round and find out what had happened to her. He started walking up the drive again, pushing the echoes into the far reaches of his mind. I've done worse, he thought coldly. As he walked he mentally organized his study and accounts. The door opened to permit him, he shouted on his elf, ordered her to bring him the firewhisky and a glass. He wasn't going to let anything trouble him, I've been through enough, he thought to himself.
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Hermione came to in a dark and dingy room. It was small and smelled of earth; dark and damp. She was sitting on a hard floor of compacted mud. As her conscious brain started to kick in, so did her fear and the pain. Sharp and sudden; her soul felt like it was burning. Whatever had gone into her at Lucius' gate was writhing and angry, it was not intended for her. As she looked around, the door opened, letting in light that burned her retinas. In the door stood Snape, as dark and cold as ever he had been. He looked her in the eye; a jolt of electricity ran up her spine. Was this fear or adrenaline? Was she willing to fight with her old potions master? A man twice her weight, a foot taller and with thirty plus years of magical training? The answer was no. As she looked up again she caught his eye. Was that remorse, guilt or sympathy she saw? The burning and sharp pain had dissipated. He mumbled a few words, harsh and dark. He looked at her once again and said, 'that was not intended for you, Hermione. I'm sorry you had to endure it. You are free to go but with a message.' He paused, looked at the ceiling, looked around the room and spoke again, this time in Latin, 'Vestri animus vestigium, Lucius. Now go, back to him with that. He will understand it, even if you do not.'
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With a glass full of amber liquid and a cold heart he headed to his room. He had written a long letter to the Minister, attempting to explain things. He hadn't sent it yet and was dreading it more and more. Guilt still racked at him but the whisky had dulled it slightly. As he sat at his dresser, facing out towards the gate he saw her. As he stood, whisky sloshed over him and the dresser, he felt the weight lift significantly but it didn't help the guilt. He was already at the door to his chamber when he thought about a cloak. He summoned the cloak, not for him, for her. He shouted at the elves to get a fire started and some whisky warmed and imbued.
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Anger had dulled every other emotion she felt. Not only had he let her take the brunt of that thing he hadn't even attempted to go after her. She had never felt this angry at anyone; the rage she felt was unfathomable. She couldn't stand, she could barely breathe but she could feel. Then she saw him appear, she couldn't make out the features, she could barely open her eyes but the rage bubbled like an unsettled volcano. She felt herself lift onto her feet, reached for her wand and threw a barely distinguishable curse in Lucius' general direction. It hit the gate and dissipated. The curse had just fizzled out, like a candle in the wind.
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He saw the curse being dissipated by the gate. The gate and the walls and the manor had that special little gift, it dissipated negativity to its owners and its guests. Since Hermione was neither at this point, she was outside the gates and he could see the anger radiating from her in waves. She was weak; she was tired and possibly about to curse him into oblivion. He decided baby steps and disarming were the way forward. He reached the gate, disarmed her, silenced her and put her into a sleep. He covered her with the cloak, pocketed her wand, picked her up and carried her to the manor.
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She woke to the smell of burning herbs. It was soothing and she wanted to just drift back to sleep. Then the anger hit her again, hard. She reached to her bedside table to grab her wand but her arm felt heavy, like she'd been sleeping on it. Her whole body felt heavy, everything ached. Then she sensed someone else in the fire lit room. 'You're awake.' She heard the steely drawl of Lucius. As she tried to get up he casually said, 'the herbs in the whisky you drank were for soothing and restful sleep. As you have awoken early the effect will still be quite substantial.' She couldn't believe the nerve of him! She hoisted herself up a little and whispered 'Get out. I'm going tomorrow and I have a message before I do: Vestri animus vestigium, Lucius. He said you'd understand it.' Her voice was hoarse and she wanted water. As she opened her mouth to ask for the elf, Lucius stood up and took three long strides to her bed, he had water in his hand. As she caught his eye, he looked away. 'Drink it; it will make you feel better.' She was about to respond but was silenced by Lucius' hand to her mouth. He said with some warmth, she felt, 'I'll talk to you later in the day, rest, you need it. You had a rough night. I'll explain everything tomorrow.' She wanted to call him back, wanted to speak to him but she was drifting off again. Her final thought was of those steel eyes boring into her soul.
A/N: I own nothing folks, enjoy this chapter and I'll update soon! R & R welcome as always! X x