Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. belong to J. K. Rowling!!!
A/N: Extra snippet on offer for all reviewers!!! Details included below.
Oh my darlings! We are getting so close to the end!!!! I can't wait!!! This has been going on for so long!!!
"You aren't worried?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"This is normal."
"Really? A week's absence is normal?"
Blaise nodded inattentively as he chewed a bite of his lunch. "He's a Malfoy. He's a little prone to brooding. A week is nothing…when we first moved to Italy, he locked himself in his room for a month, doing God only knows what."
Cat shook her head anxiously as she picked at her salad. Something just didn't sit right with her and she had no idea why. Ever since Draco had left that night with the fake Hermione, no one had heard a word from him. His secretary had even contacted Blaise in an attempt to contact Malfoy who had not come to work for several days.
What was even more worrying was that she had no idea who the impostor had been and if the lunatic had somehow harmed Malfoy then…
Ugh. She shook off her pessimistic thoughts with a disgusted sigh and tried her best to enjoy the scenic surrounds of the exclusive restaurant. The modern, open spaced area was beautifully appointed and every customer looked affluent and well-dressed.
Blaise fit in perfectly. He even had that certain pinch of arrogance which screamed old blood.
After finding that her appetite had truly abandoned her, Cat threw down her fork and sent Blaise a hard kick beneath the table.
He jerked, glanced up and sent her a menacing glare. When Cat answered him with a dismayed twitch of her eyebrow, he simply sat back, patiently chewed his mouthful and swallowed.
Cat frowned. "You're not worried? Not at all? Maybe we should go check on him…you know, just in case."
Blaise shrugged again, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a pristine white linen napkin. Arrogant bastard.
"As I have already reiterated several times; this is not unusual behaviour for Draco. If he wishes to be absent for weeks, then that can be perfectly normal."
"But I doubt it's normal for Ron to be missing for a full week without contacting his family." A new voice interrupted their conversation and Cat's head snapped up with a start.
"Harry!" She gasped. "What are you talking about?"
The man who lived ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair and pulled a chair up to their table, resting his elbows on the empty space available.
Blaise's lips twisted sardonically. "By all means Potter, make yourself at home."
Cat shot him a reproachful look and glanced back at Harry. "What were you saying?"
"Ron. He's been missing for a week. Molly is frantic; even contacted the aurors."
"A week." Cat repeated, the feeling of dread bubbling in her throat. She glanced at Blaise, her lips pressed into a firm line. "A week, Blaise. I don't believe in coincidence."
"I don't suppose the aurors have found anything?" Blaise asked, indolently sipping his glass of white.
Harry shook his head. "Nothing. No sign of a struggle and none of his things are missing. All he seems to have taken with him is his wand." He tore a piece of the fluffy bread roll off and popped it into his mouth, chewing as he contemplated the situation with a thoughtful air.
"I'm off to see Ginny."
Cat's eyes flashed to his, curious at the sudden turn of conversation. "Why?"
"Ginny and Ron have been spending a lot of time together these past few months; she might have some idea about what's going on. Ever since he and Hermione broke up, he's been acting…off. His quidditch coach told me that he had to send Ron away to pull himself together before he loses one more game for the Canons."
Blaise snorted. "As if that would make any difference to the Canons."
Harry ignored him and shook his head, tossing down the remainder of the bread roll as he rose to leave.
"Do you think Malfoy's disappearance has anything to do with Ron?"
Cat laughed moodily. "You mean, do I think that they've murdered each other and currently exist only as rotting corpses on a torn up battlefield?"
She nodded before he could answer. "Very likely scenario, I should think." Cat kicked Blaise beneath the table again, fixing him with a disgruntled stare. "I hate to say it but I told you so."
Blaise glared at her. "Silence woman. I'm not marrying you for your brains; just you body."
Cat laughed huskily and licked her lips. "How fortunate, because that's exactly why I'm marrying you." She sent him a wink. "Guess we're even."
Blaise shot her a sardonic smirk and reached out, intending to stroke her arm but Cat pulled away and stood with a sigh. She carelessly folded the napkin in her lap and discarded it on the table. She shot him a nonchalant look and retrieved her bag from where it sat next to her seat.
"Come on. You might not be worried, but I really need my glasses back."
The Italian sighed as he signed the check and rushed after his retreating fiancée, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist as he sneered at an idiot who had the nerve to stare.
"Stop it." She whispered into the crook of his neck as she raised her eyes to his. "There's no need to be openly hostile to everyone you pass."
"No," Blaise murmured huskily. "Only to the idiots who…"
Cat pinched him as Blaise apparated them away, appearing in the blink of an eye in front of the Malfoy manor gates. He sighed as she stroked his hair.
"Can you get in?"
Blaise shot her a look. "I hope so. I had access to the manor before the whole Goyle incident; let's just hope he hasn't locked us out."
He released her reluctantly and moved forward, placing his hand on the wrought iron gate. There was a subtle click before the double gates swung noiselessly open as a cold breeze swept from within the manor grounds. Cat clutched her arms and shivered as the dark feeling swept over her and Blaise reached back for her hand seemingly without a clue.
She shot him a dark look. "Blaise, something's wrong. Something bad and…"
Cat trailed off as he moved towards her, his expression wound tightly as he wrapped his arms around her small body. He clutched her tight to his warmth and rubbed her arms protectively.
"What's wrong? What is it?"
She shook her head, a dark look fixed on her face. "I don't know." She disentangled herself from his arms and moved forward. "Let's go find out."
Blaise and Cat found themselves within the dead silent entrance hall, looking around with puzzlement. She leant closer to his ear, overtaken by the need to whisper all her words. "Is it normally like this?"
Blaise had no such qualm. He shot her a speaking look and shook his head. "There are usually house elves here, but Malfoy manor has never been a place of great commotion. It's usually silent."
As they ventured deeper into the house, Cat noted that everything seemed to be in its usual place. There didn't seem to be a struggle of a battle of any sorts…but then again, the violence could have occurred anywhere.
Blaise's hand held hers tightly as he pulled her into another room; this one was decorated as opulently as the former. A sudden pop of noise startled Cat and she screamed, scrambling for her wand as Blaise chuckled.
"Not used to house elves are you, love?"
Cat shot him a glare. "No. My family doesn't believe in slavery."
Blaise sighed. "I can see why you and Granger get along so well. You two would've been inseparable if you had known each other."
Cat ignored him and focused all her attention on the fidgeting elf. It waited impatiently, twisting its long spindly fingers as it awaited their attention. She poked Blaise in the arm and gestured towards the house elf.
"Where's Draco? Where is your master?" She said slowly.
"No need to be condescending, it understands English." Blaise said teasingly. "Where's Draco? We haven't seen him for sometime."
The elf began twitching, it's ear flapped back and forth with quick jerky movements.
"Well…you see master…he uh…that is to say…Mistress Malfoy…that is to say…"
Narcissa Malfoy appeared suddenly in a portrait frame, dislodging a rather disgruntled matron who huffed and sat down sulkily.
"It's all right." She said to the house elf reassuringly. "You may go."
Narcissa turned her gaze on Blaise. "Thank goodness you're here."
Blaise's expression turned frigid in an instant; his frown was fierce as he addressed the Malfoy matriarch, his fist clenched tightly at his side.
"Cissa, what's going on? Draco has been missing for a week."
"The house elves can't go into a bedroom unless they have express permission you see and there's no magical painting in that room…every since Draco replaced so many of the portraits with muggle pieces…I couldn't get to anyone! All our old friends have had their manors confiscated and I couldn't…"
"Cissa. Stop." Blaise placed his hand on the frame of the painting; the closest he could get to comforting her. He met her eyes carefully and spoke in a cool, deep voice. "Tell me slowly. What's going on?"
Narcissa Malfoy took a deep, shuddering breath. "Draco…he fought with…with Hermione and they ran upstairs, into one of the guest rooms and they haven't…haven't…I haven't seen him since. It's not like him, Draco he's not…" Her eyes glistened. "There was yelling and…"
"Damn it!" Blaise swore, running a hand through his hair as he turned towards Cat; but she was gone from his side and for one instant, Blaise felt uneasy, he had a forbidding feeling that something was wrong. Shaking his head, he pulled his mind away from the thought and left the sitting room, in search of her. By the time he found her, Cat was already half way up the winding staircase.
"Where are you going? Cat! Come down here this instant!"
Cat shot him a preoccupied look but did not stop. She continued up the stairs heedless of the fact that an uneasy Blaise began following her. A deep sensation of dread had been haunting her ever since she had entered the house and now, as she ran down a darkened corridor of the manor, the feeling intensified until it was like a harsh ache in her stomach, making her lunch churn uncomfortably,
"Cat! Where the hell are you going?"
She continued to ignore him. Cat felt a compulsion grip her as she came to stop in front of a door. Without thought, she reached forward and placed her hand on the knob, twisting and pushing until the heavy oak swung open before her.
"Oh my God." The words fell from her lips before she could think to stop herself.
Blaise came to a dead stop behind her, grabbing her limp hand while he attempted to steady himself.
"What are you…" He trailed off as his eyes took in the sight within the guest bedroom. "Shit." Blaise whispered, nearly choked as his throat closed and his face paled. He held desperately to her, begging his legs not to buckle. "No."
Cat returned his harsh hold on her hand, ignoring the creak of her bones as his hand closed convulsively. She looked at him cautiously, taking in the angry tears in his eyes as he quickly looked away, unable to pull his gaze down to where hers had stuck moments before.
"No." He hissed again, his hand falling heavily onto her shoulder as if he could not support his body and his head with his failing strength. She felt her shoulder dampen as he shuddered against her, his arm wound around her as he were desperate to pull her away.
Cat's eyes returned to room and jerked forward while Blaise tried to pull her away.
"Stop it, Blaise." She whispered to him. "I have to check if he's…"
"No." He hissed against her shoulder. "He's my best friend…we…"
He stopped speaking as she held him tightly, moving both of them forward until she could kneel within the room. The two forms lay unmoving on the floor and strangled tears made her whimper as she took in the harsh blond of Draco's hair as he lay face down. Next to him, a shock of red hair stood in stark contrast. She recognised him as Ron Weasley; his pale freckled face was unmistakable. His eyes were closed, his lips pale and near colourless.
She pushed Blaise towards Draco's prone body. "Check his pulse."
He sobbed.
"Go." She said again, giving him a solid push until he took a stumbling step and collapsed onto his knees heavily beside his best friend.
Cat knelt by Ron and felt the odd calm of being a mediwitch sweep over her. With a cool, professional demeanour, she put her fingers to his carotid and shook.
A faint weak pulse thudded against her fingers and she sighed in relief as she glanced towards Blaise who was similarly positioned. As she met his glazed eyes, Blaise let out a loud choking sob and pulled Draco's body until he turned over.
Blaise cradled the blond, his hands resting on his pale exposed throat.
"Thank Merlin." Blaise whispered, unashamedly holding his best friend. "Thank Merlin."
The pulse beneath his fingers was weak, but it was there.
There was a large hole in the side of the car door where the killing curse had hit and as Hermione drove, the wind whistled through it, creating a headache of noise which made Hermione clench her teeth in pain.
Her head, however, was not the only thing that hurt; Hermione's leg throbbed angrily as she stepped on the brakes, turning into the rental car depot.
When the green curse had hit the car door, Hermione had been fortunately spared but the metal and plastic had not been so fortunate. It had shattered under the violence of the curse and shrapnel had pierced her leg, severing a major artery judging by the amount of blood she had lost.
Before she could heal herself however, Hermione had forced herself to leap into the passenger side seat and crawl across until she could start the car. She had nearly flooded the driver seat with her blood and would've happily allowed herself descend into shock if it hadn't been for Dimitri's unholy smirking face.
She had started her car and with a single minded determination, she had stepped on the gas pedal and driven straight towards Dolohov's shocked face. There had been a heavy satisfying thud as the convertible knocked him down and an even more satisfying crunch of breaking bone as Hermione reversed and drove away accompanied by Dolohov's pain filled scream.
Several hours down the road, Hermione had finally succumbed to her sinking eyelids and pulled over at the side of the country road. She had cast a spell on the kitten, forcing it into a deep restive sleep as she carefully bandaged its leg and then attended to her own. She pulled out the shard of metal, muffling her screams lest there be anyone nearby.
Hermione had cast a quick flesh knitting spell Cat had taught her and then riffled through her bag, looking for food and water to replenish what her body desperately needed. Though she had felt dizzy and nauseous with blood loss, Hermione had forced herself to down several bottles of water to restore her fluids.
Carefully bandaged and healing, her leg still throbbed as she stepped out and put her weight on the injured leg. She grimaced as she shifted and waited as the horror-struck manager of the car rental company ran out and threw his hands up in shock.
"Miss!" He screamed in his heavily accented English. "What have you done to…"
Hermione tuned him out; his high shrieking voice was doing a number on her throbbing head and Hermione was desperate to get back to England. She needed to firstly, get to Draco and secondly, to kick Ginny Sodding Weasley's arse.
"…and the dent in the bumper…" He continued as Hermione smirked; she sincerely hoped Dimitri would remember what she was capable of.
As the man continued ranting, Hermione stared into the back seat of the convertible, watching the small kitten which was still firmly asleep. Darn it, she needed to get the poor creature to a vet, she didn't have time to stand around with this idiot. The car may have been covered in a little blood, both hers and Dolohov's, but the dent in the bumper was purely his imagination.
She sighed angrily as she took out her wand. The ministry would not mind if she just used a little magic on the idiot.
"Confundus." She whispered and watched as the manager took on a look of glazed confusion.
"There is no dent in the car." She hissed to him as several other customers passed.
"There is no dent in the car." He repeated, toneless.
"I'm going to pay for the period of the rental and for the cleaning of the car."
"I'm going to pay for the period of the rental and for the cleaning of the car." He repeated again and Hermione huffed in frustration.
"No." She emphasised slowly. "I will pay for it."
The man nodded blankly. "Of course. I shall start rinsing away the blood immediately."
Hermione paled slightly and shook her head. "It isn't blood. It's…it's uh, red paint. I ran into…a paint fight."
The manager nodded blankly again. "Yes. Paint fight."
Hermione cursed her idiocy as she counted out Euros and shoved them into his slack hand. She tucked the keys to the convertible into his shirt pocket and dismissed him. Walking to the back of the car, she retrieved the kitten and her bags, what she had anyway; Dolohov possessed the rest, and walked away from the rental depot. She hailed a taxi out on the road and ordered the driver to get her to the nearest vet.
After 7:15, as she had decided to name the grey fuzz ball, was properly inspected and had a cast wrapped around its leg, Hermione headed to the travel agency and booked a flight straight for London, arranging for permits so that 7:15 could travel also.
Feeling a twinge of guilt, Hermione had requested a room with a fireplace at the hotel so that she could contact Malfoy but when she had floo'd him at the manor, no one had answered and the result was the same when she had tried again a few hours later.
As Hermione crossed to her hotel bed, she picked up 7:15 who mewled drowsily in her arms. "I guess it's just you and me, huh, darling. Ungrateful bastard isn't he." 7:15 yawned adorable, showing its fangs and went back to sleep in her arms. "It's really his fault for not being able to tell me apart from the Weaslette…serves him right."
The cat didn't answer as it continued to snooze and Hermione replaced him back on the bed in favour of unpacking the packages she had bought that afternoon in Rome. Hermione assumed Dolohov would not be returning her bags thus she had needed an abundance of new clothing, especially underwear.
She held up a lacy emerald green pair of panties and smirked, Draco would have enjoyed it.
Hermione cleared her throat and shook the thought away. Bastard.
She would be flying out in the morning thus she focused her thoughts on that instead. She opted for a quick shower, relieved to finally change into a fresh set of clothes which did not smell distinctly of day old blood. Wearily, she climbed beneath the starchy sheets of the hotel bed, almost dislodging 7:15 and laid her head on the pillow. She was asleep almost instantly.
When she woke, the room was still pitch dark. Except for the flashing red digits on the alarm clock, the room was completely fathomless. She couldn't understand why she woke but some primitive instinct told her to get the hell up and move. If Hermione had been raised as a muggle, she probably have brushed off the feeling and gone back to sleep but having been raised as a witch, Hermione knew better than to discard any preternatural warnings.
She jumped out of bed and rushed for her things. She didn't turn on the lights and instead felt her way around the room clumsily, shoving everything into her new travel bag which she had bought to accommodate her wardrobe. She had lost her things once; she sure as hell wasn't going to lose her new clothes now.
There was a muffled thump against her door and Hermione heard the door knob turn quietly, as if the person on the other side of the door was testing it.
She had locked it, she remembered smugly, and placed a few protection charms on her doorway to boot. No intruder could enter this room unharmed without her express permission.
Hermione quickly slung the bags over her shoulder and scooped up the kitten. She stood very still for a second as a series of hushed voices floated through the door indicating the presence of more than one intruder.
She swore quietly under her breath just as she heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door. Hell! Dolohov just wouldn't give up would he?
Thought she had no doubt about her ability to take down a man in a duel, perhaps even two or three, she didn't think it was wise to brave it out when there was clearly more than three men outside her door. Another thing to take into account was that this was a muggle hotel. Any involvement violence against muggles would involve the Italian ministry which would then involve the British ministry thus resulting in an international wizarding standoff.
Hermione's eyes had adjusted to the dark and they drifted to her balcony doors. Damn, damn and double damn. She gave an exasperated sigh as she silently shuffled towards the doors.
The air outside was cool and there was a faint breeze which ruffled her hair. Though she knew she had no other choice than to scale down the eight storeys to the ground, a part of Hermione still desperately protested against the height.
In her arms, the kitten mewled and struggled uncomfortable as a particularly strong blast of wind hit them.
"Yeah, you and me both." Hermione muttered while she tucked the small fur ball into her closed jacket. From her wand, Hermione retrieved a sturdy length of rope which she tied to the balcony railing. With a stubborn whimper, she ensured that 7:15 was protected and that her bags were secured and then, with a great shuddering breath, climbed over the railing as she clutched the rope for dear life.
Pure, icy terror raced down her spine as tears began streaming down her face. She clutched at the length of rope, frozen in her movements as her mind cleared of all thought.
7:15 mewled angrily in his confined space and clawed at Hermione's thin shirt beneath her jacket. His claws pierced the delicate material and sunk neatly into the skin of her chest.
The pain shot through Hermione's frozen mind like a fresh wave and she blinked, unfrozen as her muscles screamed in protest. She looked down at her jacket and silently thanked her new cat; with a burst of reckless courage, she began lowering herself down the rope until her feet touched the balcony railing of the 7th storey room.
For a cowardly moment, Hermione contemplated just going through the room and taking the elevator down to the lobby but she knew that it posed a much greater danger for her to be caught. With another shuddering breath, she slipped her feet off the railing and began to lower herself further. When she was close enough, Hermione forced her aching fingers to let go of the rope and she jumped the remaining distance.
Feeling solid ground beneath her feet, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and adjusted her bags before she climbed out of the bushes in which she had landed. The garden of the hotel was modest but it served her purposes. It's shadows hid her figure and she dashed into the open courtyard with ease. There were no taxies at the late hour but Hermione had specifically chosen the hotel for its close proximity to the airport; it would barely make her out of breath to run there and seek sanctuary among the crowds.
"STOP! Stop right now, Granger and this will all be better for you!"
Hermione swung around stunned. Dimitri was standing there, clearly out of breath, pointing his wand unsteadily in her general direction.
"It's too late Granger! Be a good girl and come to me…I'll spare you any further harm."
She couldn't believe the shear nerve of the idiot and with a smug smile and a flick of power from her mind, she disarmed him. With a quick shout, she stunned him and watched with satisfaction as Dolohov dropped bonelessly to the ground. Hermione gazed around quickly, smirking as she realised that Dolohov's cronies had not arrived with him.
With an instant decision, Hermione transfigured his prone body into an innocent looking key and tucked him into her pocket while she walked away whistling.
Hours later, Hermione Jean Granger safely boarded a flight bound for London and when at last, they were safely air bound; she unbuckled her seatbelt and entered the small cramped space of the restroom. She reached into her pocket and retrieved the silver key; with a quick smirk, she tossed it into the silver, tarnished toilet bowl and flushed it without a thought.
She sincerely hoped that Dimitri enjoyed his little stay in the airplane septic tank.
As the jet touched down at Heathrow, Hermione would've sworn that she heard a desperate scream erupt from the bowels of the plane.
Ahh…payback's a bitch.
A/N: There! See! Everything is fine...no need for the accusations and the panic!
THE SNIPPET!
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Twilight to Midnight