Chapter 11
Worthy Innocence
Minerva McGonagall returned to Hogwarts Castle and sat on the Headmaster's chair in the East Tower for the first time since the war ended. She rested her head on her fragile fist as the sun rose, spotlighting the collateral damage of broken chairs, broken glass, and debris from the Final Battle.Her heart was heavy and she was too tired to cry, having stayed awake all evening to think on a way to find Hermione, as well as rebuilding the castle. She had been certain that Professor Snape's Legilimens skills would have been an asset in helping to locate the young witch, but she could not blame him for wanting to have no part of it. He had finally been set free from a life she knew had been unfair to the wizard, turning him into a misanthrope. She felt partially to blame for all his misery, so she decided to tell no one living that he was still alive.
The house elves began to sweep and clean, hurrying to remove from her presence the reminders of smoldered hopes and dreams of lost lives. She hardly noticed their work, but she was summoned from her thoughts by the noisy return of Albus Dumbledore to his portrait.
In a hurry to report to Minerva, he knocked over the vase that rested on the side table next to his chair inside his frame, but he steadied it before it fell. Out of breath, he gasped, "I'm sorry for startling you Minerva, but I am exhausted."
Giving him a scolding look, her lips tightened and she retorted, "Merlin's beard, Albus! You're dead! How on earth could you possibly be exhausted?"
"That was a long trip, Minerva! Going inside someone's head when you don't know where they are takes a lot out of a dead person! I came back as soon as I could. Did you have any luck with Severus?"
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head no. "Can you blame him after all he's been through?"
Exhaling, Albus plopped down onto his chair and looked at the floor. "No," he said calmly. "But I was certain he would want to help Miss Granger. I always thought he had a soft spot for her."
Walking to the window, she peered out over the ruined grounds, and sighed, "Don't be silly, Albus. He doesn't have a soft spot for anyone except Lily Potter. We must leave him be. He has paid his debt and now he has every right to live his life privately and do what he wishes with what's left of it. Can you believe he is angry because she saved his life?"
Dumbledore stroked his beard while he thought aloud. "I can believe that. He will always be angry and for good reason." Sadly shaking his head, he said, "I do not wish to make the same mistakes with Miss Granger that I made with Severus. She believes her two best friends are dead. We need to tell her the truth. It is wrong to keep that from her!"
"I know that, Albus! But you know the law! You wrote the bloody thing, after all! Moving back to her chair, she plopped down and covered her eyes with her hands.
Phineas Nigellus Black suddenly entered his portrait, out of breath. "The girl has been taken! An acquaintance of mine just reported to me that she had been moved from her paradise to St. Mungo's by Draco Malfoy. No one knows of his whereabouts at the present time. It was reported…" He was interrupted and turned his head as if listening to someone speaking to him from somewhere unseen in his portrait. "It seems she has now been taken from St. Mungo's. Her destination is unclear, but she was moved by two apparent orderlies of the establishment."
"Who could have taken her and why?" McGonagall gasped as she held her hand to her chest.
Dumbledore stood in his portrait. "At this time I have no idea, Minerva. All of the Death Eaters have been captured. Lucius is the only one remaining, but he did leave Tom's side in the end. I do not believe he poses a threat at this time. I shall go to the Ministry and peruse Miss Granger's file. Perhaps they have something to do with this." Moving to leave, he felt dizziness overtake him and he sat back down to allow the feeling to subside.
"What is it, Albus? What just happened to you?" Minerva gasped, taking steps toward his portrait.
"Miss Granger just spoke my name. Her pain weakens me, I'm afraid." The old wizard covered his face with his hands, and wept openly. "She is suffering, Minerva! I can feel her… aching with grief and …it is unlike anything I have ever…it is unbearable." Wiping his eyes on his sleeves, his expression became stern and he left the frame to accomplish his mission.
Hundreds of miles away, Hermione's vision was blurred as she drifted in and out of sleep, but she could still feel the cold concrete underneath her fragile body. She touched the ground with her hands, and she found a frayed, loosely woven sack with her fingertips. Ignoring the thought of what may be crawling on it, she pulled it over her for warmth, recognizing the smell of old burlap. She tried to turn onto her side, but she was restrained by the strap of a soft bag that was magically wound around her like a purse. Wriggling her wrist free from the strap, she pulled, and the bag slid forward, pulling her hair as it moved. Exhausted from raising her head enough to retrieve the bag, she began to feel nauseous, and she vomited a vile, bitter substance that could have been nothing more than stomach acid since she had received no nourishment in quite some time.
Lowering her head onto her arm, she reached into the bag and pulled out a lump of tinfoil and brought it to her face to try and see what it was. The sweet smell of chocolate caused her true hunger to come forth, and she pulled the foil from the treat, and shoved the entire S'more into her mouth. As she chewed, she recalled the meeting with Dumbledore on the beach. The chocolate soothed her aching body as though she had taken an elixir, and it gave her an intangible feeling of familiar comfort, like she was home again.
A foggy memory of a Quiddich Game began to play out in her mind. She believed Professor Snape was bewitching Harry's broom, causing him to almost fall to the ground. The next thing she remembered was setting fire to Professor Snape's robes in order to stop his concentration on Harry. It had worked.
Her memory was interrupted by the sound of heavy metal doors sliding open across the room. She swallowed the last of the treat and pretended to be sleeping, using her knapsack as a pillow.
A familiar, hateful voice asked "Is she alive as I requested?"
"Yes. Now pay us what we agreed so that we may be on our way," answered the voice she recognized as one of her abductors.
Hermione heard the jingling of coins being dropped into a heaping bag, followed by the echoes of retreating footsteps. She assumed the two men who had brought her to that place were leaving, and she was left alone with one person. The soles of his shoes scuffed along the room toward her, causing a hissing echo in the large room. He stopped next to her face. She felt the grimy, wet edge of his foot cruelly nudge her forehead and she began to tremble with sickening fear.
"Are you alive, Mudblood? My father paid a pretty penny to bring you here. I hope you're grateful. Filthy Mudbloods become valuable when they shun their magic." Draco laughed an unnatural cackle.
The memory of walking across the grounds of Hogwarts toward the front gate began to cycle in Hermione's mind. She fell on top of the lifeless bodies of her two best friends. She allowed the memory to fast forward until she reached the beach. She had walked naked into the ocean and she remembered seeing the silhouette of Draco Malfoy standing on the shore, calling to her with a panicked, begging voice. He motioned for her to come back to the beach. She remembered being confused by his concern, but she had been pulled under the surface by an unseen force, and the water around her turned into thick, coagulated blood. Somehow she knew he had not been the one to cause her potential harm at the time.
She swallowed the bile collecting in her throat and opened her eyes to see her bruised reflection in Draco's shiny patent leather shoe. She tried to scream out, but could only rasp.
"Shut up, Mudblood!" He commanded. "It would have been brilliant for you to drown in the blood of all those you helped to kill. You have no friends left and you'll never have magic again. The only thing pure about you, Mudblood, is your innocence. Your virginal blood is the only part of you that's of any use. My father has some…interesting plans for you." He laughed a high-pitched, evil cackle with a self congratulatory edge.
Draco squatted beside her, snarling with seething hatred for her, and he rasped, spittle forming in the corners of his mouth, "You're all alone now. You ran away and couldn't save them. You're a worthless coward."
Hermione batted away the heavy tears from her eyelashes, and she saw the platinum blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, but something about him was different. Her eyes became clear and she looked at his face with a better focus. His gray eyes were covered with a hazy film that only the Imperious Curse could bring and she became crippled with fear. He stood, towering over her, and she stifled the urge to move or speak, hoping to not provoke him in any way. However, the last thing she saw was the toe of his shoe coming toward her temple, and her mind retreated to the beach with the roaring waves, just before his foot connected with her head.