Hermione pushed her peas from one side of the plate to the other sulkily, her brain still processing the conversation she had just left with the Dark Lord and Lucius Malfoy. The final agreement had been more than satisfactory, and her message had certainly been heard loud and clear, but she still felt vaguely unsettled by the whole situation. She knew she would need to talk to Finn, had demanded it even, as a requirement of the new 'bride price', but she certainly wasn't looking forward to the conversation. How did one begin a discussion with a man who had no problem discussing her worth in terms of business ventures and real estate? Their relationship was just beginning, and it already felt tainted. As a result, here she sat, avoiding her vegetables like a scolded child, with the ticking of that damned clock beating out a tattoo in her head as it pulsed in time with the rhythmic beat.
She was admittedly flattered that Lucius had stormed Nathair Manor as soon as Draco had told him of her impending courtship with Finn, but was still furious at the machinations that had taken place seemingly behind her back. While her rational mind understood that she had tacitly agreed to Finn's proposal when she accepted his invitation to accompany him to the funeral, she was pouting now about the blind faith with which she had entered the agreement. As a muggleborn witch, she had no understanding of the ramifications of the outing, and she felt, fairly in her opinion, that Finn and her Lord had taken advantage of her ignorance. If there was anything Hermione hated, it was being made to feel the fool because of a lack of information.
On the one hand, she felt better about the haggling involved in such negotiations, but this was surely beginning to feel much more like a business proposal than a romantic one, and she couldn't help but feel put out with Finn for going behind her back. While she knew that there was no romantic bond between herself and Voldemort, the wizard wasn't even capable of such things, Hermione was sure, she had had no idea that he planned to act as her Head of Household in her marriage plans. If anything, she would've believed Lucius would fill that role for her, when and if the time came for her to need that type of assistance. Honestly, she had foolishly believed herself free to marry for love and nothing less, and while she did feel that those feelings would come with Finn, it was certainly a sour start to their relationship.
With those thoughts running chaotically through her head, she continued to avoid eating her dinner, her brain running on overdrive in an attempt to sort out her conflicting emotions. Voldemort sat in his usual place at the head of the table, while a very uncomfortable looking Severus sat across from Hermione. Ginny was noticeably absent from the meal, but as Hermione was sure that the Dark Lord had taken the time to ensure that his lesson at the school was fully learned, she would've been surprised if the witch was still conscious, let alone possessing the mental reserves to simply kneel silently through an entire meal. Suddenly, Severus cleared his throat awkwardly and Hermione winced, fearing that he was going to request an explanation as to the stilted atmosphere in the room.
"How was your visit, Ms. Granger?" The wizard asked, cutting into his potatoes. "Were your worst fears realized? Did the children chase you out with an army of charmed teddies?"
Hermione laughed softly at the image, welcoming the chance to talk about the children.
"You were right, Master Snape," Hermione grimaced, sticking out her tongue at him as he pretended to choke on his wine in shock at her utterance. "The children were overjoyed to see me, and the faculty were just as pleased. My apologies for being absent were actually met with some scorn, as they believed they wouldn't have had to opportunity to defend their students if I had been there. Honestly, I don't think it ever occurred to the children that I should have been there, except for Misty Hawkins, but she was only pleased that I hadn't been there to be injured. No one seemed to hold me accountable."
"As we all knew would be the case, Lutea," the Dark Lord smiled, unperturbed when Hermione ignored him with a wholly out of character flip of her braid.
"I saw Luna and Draco there this afternoon, Draco was conducting an impromptu broom handling class. Excellent decision with Oliver, he is going to make a fine teacher. Draco is concerned that he may attempt to pad the Gryffindor team, so he wanted to even the field. We had a lovely chat over a quick snack, and then the elves and I arranged a surprise for the students. Then I came home, it was quite a lovely day."
"A conversation with Draco and Luna, hmm? Did you discuss wedding plans? Narcissa is quite put out with some whim of Luna's regarding floral arrangements, apparently," Severus commented, pushing away his plate.
"We discussed Pureblood dating customs, actually," Hermione sniffed, taking a sip of her wine.
"I take it you have deduced the impact of your outing tomorrow then, princess?" he asked, Hermione scowling at both the reminder of Ronald's harsh words in the dungeons the week prior and the new knowledge that seemingly everyone but herself had been aware of the implications of her naivety. "Surely you are pleased? You can barely keep your hands off the brute whenever you are within a meter's radius of one another."
"He's not a brute!" Hermione snapped, her nerves still raw after Lucius had made his ugly allegations earlier that afternoon. "He is a lovely wizard who is slightly misguided in his outdated ideas of romance."
"Ah, so it is the feel of a business transaction that has you up in arms, then?" Severus chuckled, a knowing look on his face. "Did you at least manage to maim one of them?"
Hermione snorted, ignoring the glare Voldemort sent her way at the undignified sound.
"Lucius remains in full use of all his limbs, I'm afraid," she said, giving in and taking a bite of the crisp spring vegetables on her plate.
"Not for lack of trying, Lutea," the Dark Lord scolded, a smirk on his face.
"Lucius?" Severus questioned, clearly confused.
"I was concerned that something like this would be the result of the invitation and asked Luna and Draco to explain it to me. While I remained at Pretannike to enjoy the remainder of the afternoon with the children, Draco returned home and informed his father of our conversation. He had some...concerns about the match and brought them to Our Lord. I arrived as their discussion was reaching its peak. I took exception to being discussed like a barrel of ale and made sure to make my opinion heard," Hermione summarized, her eyes hard as she looked at Voldemort, who was calmly finishing his roast. "I may or may not have struck Lucius with a flaming spear in retaliation to a comment he made regarding Finn's worthiness to be trusted with my virginity."
Severus laughed aloud as he imagined the scene, and Hermione gifted him with a small smile in return.
"I trust you are no longer wishing bodily harm upon my person, Lutea?" The Dark Lord questioned, raising an eyebrow at the petite witch.
"You are quite safe at the moment, I assure you, My Lord. If that should change, I reserve the right to keep that to myself, as it would be most unfair to give you even further advantage over me."
Voldemort chuckled softly at her words, and the tense atmosphere dissipated.
Finishing their meals, the Dark Lord and Severus made plans to retire to the study to discuss the upcoming graduation ceremony, and Hermione, not wishing to wait until the Dark Lord had the time for their usual nightcap, excused herself to bed. Pausing to allow Voldemort access to her mind's recollections of the day, grimacing through a mild scolding about spoiling the children with sweets, she gladly took her leave, hoping that a good night's sleep would ease her pounding head and allow her to face Finn in the morning with clarity.
Kissing first the Dark Lord and then Severus' cheek in good night, she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, very much looking forward to sleep. She had just reached the top step when she heard a soft rustling from the far side of the hall.
"Pimm?" She called out, expecting to see the Dark Lord's elf in the shadows.
Hearing nothing, she shrugged and turned toward her bedroom, yawning widely. Suddenly, her head snapped back as though a hand had caught the hem of her robes, having caught her unaware. Her heart pounded in her ribs as she whirled around, looking for the source of her detainment. Seeing no one, she tried to calm her racing heart, but was still slightly rattled as she headed toward her room. Reaching the door, she sighed as she remembered she had left her potions journal in Voldemort's room the evening prior, as they were discussing her Apprenticeship while the Dark Lord dressed for dinner.
Realizing that she would need it in the morning, and desiring to read back over her notes before resuming her studies the next day, she turned around and headed back the way she came, planning to slip into his chambers quickly. Giving the landing a wide berth, she cast a Lumos and chuckled as she saw what had ensared her earlier. There was a wrought iron table at the top of the landing that held a vase of flowers, and the curling fleur de lis that made up the legs had probably tangled in her robes as she made her way past.
Chuckling softly under her breath at her foolishness, she continued down the hall to Voldemort's rooms, thinking of the clever students and their countdown calendar. She was pleased that they had included Pieter, and she hoped that he would be able to adjust to life without his exuberant twin. She was sure that his youth would work in his favor in that department, and hopefully he would be without the sense of lingering loss she knew would result if they had been even five years older.
Opening the door quietly, she stilled, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness of the room. She saw her journal lying on the small table sitting in between the armchairs before the fire, and began to make her way over to it. She stiffened as she heard a low wheezing breath, and her eyes cut to the velvet pillow that she knew sat next to Voldemort's desk, where Ginny would sit as the Dark Lord wrote his correspondence.
The small witch was lying there, her face contorted in a painful grimace, even in her sleep. Her left eye was swollen closed, and her lip appeared to be split. The way she was sleeping suggested that a rib or two had been broken, and Hermione surmised that the persistent wheeze was the result of a punctured lung. As she peered closer, she was taken aback to see a bit of blood gathering at the corner of Ginny's ear, indicating internal bleeding. The extent of her injuries confused Hermione, but only in their sheer physicality. The Dark Lord usually preferred his wand, and this lingering evidence of his anger pointed at a rage that Hermione hadn't seen from him in quite some time. Much more rage than she would've thought would be the result of an attack at Pretannike, even with the loss of life that had occured. Her mind ruminating on that interesting tidbit, she continued to cross the room, her eyes darting every few seconds to Ginny's sleeping form.
She reached down and picked up the journal, turning back to leave the room. Just as she brought the journal to her chest, she felt a tickle in her nose. Before she could stop herself, she sneezed, the sound almost deafening in the still room. Ginny started, her face blanching at the pain that surely accompanied the sudden movement.
Pushing herself into a kneeling position, Ginny looked up at Hermione, and a look of surprise flashed across her face before the usual mask of simmering anger she wore when she encountered Hermione fell back into place.
"You," she sneered, though the effect of her snarled words was ruined by their shaky delivery. "What do you want?"
Hermione lifted the journal and wiggled it slightly, her mouth curving into a soft smile.
"I forgot my potions journal last night. I wished to go back over my notes before tomorrow, and so I came in to retrieve it. I'm just leaving," Hermione said, turning back to the door, hardening her heart to the witch's obvious distress.
She had just begun to make her exit as Ginny laid back down, and the witch's sharp gasp of pain made her stop in her tracks.
"Ginny?" Hermione questioned, rolling her eyes as the witch spat at her. "Why didn't Our Lord heal your injuries? For that matter, why do you even have them? What could you have possibly said to enrage him so fully?"
"Who said that I said anything?" Ginny sneered, wincing as she pushed herself into something resembling an upright seated position. "Sometimes I am reminded of the 'realities of my situation' and tonight happened to be one of those nights. Not all of us are as privileged as you are."
Hermione highly doubted the witch's words, knowing that if Voldemort desired to keep Ginny subservient he had many more potent tools in his arsenal than thuggery. There was more here than met the eye, she was sure of it. Taking a chance, she stepped toward Ginny, withdrawing her wand.
"I'm simply going to heal you," she soothed as Ginny flinched away from the sight of Hermione stalking toward her, wand aloft. "If Our Lord intended on you dying he would've made sure to be here for the finale."
She knelt down in front of the witch and hummed the healing spells quietly, pleased at the blue light that made quick work of Ginny's eyes and lip. She added a second, more powerful spell to tend to her internal injuries, and was slightly alarmes to see the amber light hovering not only over her head but her lower abdomen as well. When the witch was breathing more easily, she smiled slightly at her, relieved that she would survive the night. Ginny didn't return the gesture, her eyes wary as she looked at Hermione.
"Why did you do that?" She questioned, and Hermione bit back a sigh at the appalling lack of gratitude the younger woman displayed. "Why not just leave me here to die?"
"Honestly?" Hermione asked, trusting her instincts as she sat back on her heels. At Ginny's hesitant nod, she continued. "Because I don't think Our Lord did this to you," she said simply, shrugging at Ginny's gobstruck face. "He was in his study with Lucius when I returned home, and he hinted that he had been there when Lucius arrived. Any lessons he would've had to teach you today would've occurred at Pretannike, not here, and knowing him as I do, he would've been more apt to banish you to his rooms to suffer his absence than to lay a hand on you. Whether you wish to admit it or not, you crave his company and approval. We all do, there's no shame in that," she comforted the witch, Ginny having shrunk in on herself at the baldly phrased statement. Hermione knowing that she herself also fell victim to the same compulsion, and had had a similar reaction when it was brought to her attention by the Dark Lord himself.
"Which begs the question, who did this to you? You've no interaction with anyone outside of the elves, as far as I can tell, so it is unlikely that you pissed off anyone enough to tempt them to risk His wrath at laying a hand on you. So then, who was it?"
Hermione stood then and made her way back to the door, keeping her eyes on the witch. She watched as Ginny continued to withdraw into herself, a myriad of emotions playing out across her face as Hermione studied her.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, Hermione pausing with her hand on the door knob before Ginny finally broke the silence.
"I hate you." She said calmly, her quiet tone, as well as the abrupt subject change surprising Hermione.
Hermione shook her head as she laughed out loud, Summoning the decanter of brandy from the low table under the windows, adding a second glass after a moment of consideration.
"No you don't. You don't hate Voldemort either. I think the only person you reserve such strong feelings for, Ginny, is yourself. Stop clinging to childish ideals that no longer exist and start taking advantage of everything that has been offered to you."
She poured them both a healthy dose and sent Ginny's to the table next to the armchairs. Ginny hesitated for a moment before pushing herself to her feet and padding softly across the room, unabashed in her sheer shift. Snatching the glass from the table, she took a deep drink before turning to face Hermione.
"They kept his fucking arm, Hermione. What kind of rational person keeps an arm in a trophy case?" Ginny asked, guzzling more brandy.
"What kind of Greater Good attacks innocent, unarmed children?" Hermione countered, smirking as Ginny choked as she opened the door. "Sleep tight Ginerva."
Heading back to her room, she jumped back as she passed Chlap, one of the groundskeeping elves, who was lurking by the wall. She recognized him from her early morning runs, as he tended to the forests on the grounds through which she would run, which appeared to the untrained eye have been left in their wild state, but in reality were carefully tended to encourage the magical creatures who inhabited the woods to thrive and keep the areas where prized wild magical plants grew. She was confused as to why he would be in the house at this late hour until she saw the verbena clutched in his fist. Knowing that Voldemort probably requested some of the rare night blooming variety, she smiled at him as she made her way past. He didn't return the gesture, but Hermione was unconcerned, knowing him to be a cantankerous elf who dealt with plants and wild creatures much more comfortably than witches and wizards.
Finally entering her rooms, she placed the now empty brandy glass on the bookcase as she entered the bathroom to brush her teeth, calling for Jilly and requesting tea to be sent up while biting back a smile at the frothy blue creation the elf had draped herself in. By the time Jilly had returned with the tea, Hermione had changed into her nightclothes and was tucked in bed, her journal open in her lap. Fondly wishing the elf a good night, and casting a surreptitious altering spell so the poor thing wouldn't trip on her way back down the stairs, Hermione snuggled down into her blankets as she opened her journal, closing her eyes momentarily to savor the smell of the tea wafting up to her nose. Stealing a biscuit from the tray, she began to read over her notes from the week, relieved to feel the pressure in her head start to fade away.
About an hour later, Hermione sat up with a start, her mind connecting some dots as she read her careful notes about the usages of Columbine in ancient healing potions. Her thoughts began to barrel on, almost faster than she could follow them, as she thought back to Luna's warning earlier in the day. Sitting fully upright, she Summoned one of the research tomes Luna had given her a few years previous for Yule, jokingly telling her it might help her swotty brain to make sense of the 'fantastical loads of codswallop' that the Quibbler had been printing all these years.
Thumbing frantically through the index of the Woodland Creatures tome, she groaned in frustration as it skipped straight from Tree Frogs to Tree Swallows. Summoning her copy of Bonide's Woodland Dwellers, she was left similarly empty handed. She sat there in bed, both books abandoned to the eiderdown, as she began to catalogue what she thought she knew.
Firstly, there had been Luna's vague warning about restless Tree Squeaks in the trees outside Pretannike. The fact that the creatures were apparently fantastical seemed to lend credence to Hermione's sense of warning. Had Luna been cautioning her about someone who wished to harm the children? She knew that Luna was dangerous intelligent, but the witch served as a gather if intelligence doe the Dark Lord, and as a result had continued to speak in the vague riddles she had grown up printing. However if the threat had been imminent, she wouldn't have phased her concerns so puzzlingly, and she would've taken the information to Voldemort himself, so Hermione relaxed slightly, knowing that Luna wouldn't have more than a vague suspicion.
Second was the state she had discovered Ginny in, as she knew in her bones that the Dark Lord had nothing to do with her injuries. Even if he had temporarily taken leave of his common sense to beat the witch to within an inch of her life, which Hermione knew he simply wouldn't have had the time nor the inclination to do, she knew that he would've forced her to remain at his side so he could continue to enjoy her suffering. Someone else had done that to her, and the lack of magical wounds seemed to point to someone who was either trying to avoid detection or send a message.
Lastly Chalp's silent presence in the hallway outside of Voldemort's rooms now seemed to be the most suspicious. Even if the Dark Lord had requested the Verbena he had been clutching, Chalp would've been ordered to bring it to him in the study, where he was most likely still ensconced with Severus, as it was near useless after a mere half hour past gathering. Violet Verbena was a common ingredient in ancient healing spells, ones that she knew the elves still used to this day. Had Chlap been intending to heal Ginny? How had one of the grounds elves been aware of her current state?
Hermione frowned as her headache returned with a vengeance while she struggled to fit the pieces together. She knew that the dark Wards on the house would deny entry to anyone desiring to harm the Dark Lord or herself, so while she wasn't exactly concerned or fearful, the thought that she was missing something was niggling at her brain, like an itch in the very center of her back.
Returning the books to their carefully ordered places, she Accioed a Pain Relief potion and swallowed it, wisely concluding that this particular mystery could wait until another day. Perhaps Ginny had simply looked askance at Bellatrix or Alecto during one of their 'evening teas' with the Dark Lord. Merlin knew both witches were deranged enough to attempt to seek retribution for an imagined slight, and it wasn't as though Ginny had any real means by which to fight back, even if she had stood a chance against either witch with the assistance of a wand, which she obviously did not posess.
Confident in her decision to leave her suspicions for another day, Hermione felt the welcoming tingle of the potion begin to ease the migraine that had been looming as she cast a quick Tempus, shrieking when she saw the late hour. Her mind now fully occupied with the stress of talking to Finn and meeting his bloody parents in the morning, she extinguished the lights and tried to get some sleep, knowing that she would need all her wits about her in the morning.