Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to the incomparable J. K. Rowling.
Chapter Twenty-One
Being pushed through space pressed to Dreadlocks's chest was possibly the worst sensation Hermione had ever experienced. She gasped in the clean air once they reappeared in front of a ludicrously ostentatious manor house, complete with sweeping lawns and primping peacocks. Ron appeared next to her, his hands held tightly behind his back by Biker Guy.
"Where have you brought us?" Ron spat, struggling against his captor to no avail.
"You're now the esteemed guests of Malfoy Manor," Dreadlocks responded, voice stickily sweet, reminding her of Umbridge. He pressed an ornate doorbell to one side of the wrought iron gates.
"What?" asked Ron. "They haven't added you to the wards? You're reduced to ringing the doorbell like a muggle postman?"
"Like a what?" Dreadlocks hissed, loosening his hold on Hermione's wrists to cuff Ron over the back of the head.
"It's like a post owl, but a person." Hermione couldn't help her explanation, her mouth automatically responding to a question.
He tugged her restrained arms, pulling her into his chest, and lowered his mouth to her ear. "I didn't ask you, mudblood." He ran his tongue over the shell of her ear, his rancid breath filling her nostrils. She tried to pull away, jarring her arms as she did so. "I'd keep your opinions to yourself if I were you." He punctuated his words with a bite to her earlobe. She tried to elbow him in the stomach, barely making contact, as the gate swung silently open and he shoved her inside the beautiful grounds.
Most of the Snatchers stayed at the gate to await the return of their comrades but four, including Dreadlocks and Biker Guy, accompanied them, frog-marching them up the shale driveway. She looked sideways at Ron hoping he had some kind of plan but he was staring determinedly ahead, eyes narrowed in concentration. A figure appeared on the path in front of them, flanked by large men in cloaks and Death Eater masks.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Lucius Malfoy drawled, his cruel voice cutting straight through any courage Hermione had managed to scrounge up. "Miss Granger, how good of you to join us. And a Weasley, I imagine this is quite a change of scene for you." He turned to his lackeys. "Take them inside. The drawing room."
Hermione was yanked from Dreadlocks's custody by heavily-muscled arms and flung over a shoulder, hands still tied behind her back.
"I'll take their wands." Lucius held out a leather gloved hand and two wands flew into his waiting palm. Hermione wasn't sure he'd even used his own wand. "Your payment," he said and threw a clinking sack to the floor at Dreadlocks's feet, "I'm sure you'll agree that it's sufficient."
"I was actually hoping I could have the girl after you're done with her? In lieu of payment, I mean," Dreadlocks looked a little nervous as he said it. Bile rose in Hermione's throat.
"Oh trust me, Luther," Lucius said with a smile that chilled her to the core, "when I'm finished with her, there'll be nothing left."
"Don't you lay a filthy finger on her!" Ron screamed at Lucius.
"Tut tut," he said and a flick of his wrist had his wand from his cane and pointing at Ron's face. Hermione watched in horror as thick, black thread began to sew Ron's mouth closed as though pulled by an invisible needle. Ron's eyes widened as he realised what was happening to him. "I think that's quite enough talk from you. Perhaps you'd like to watch as I have a little talk with your mudblood whore."
As she was carried through the house, Hermione tried to keep a map to the exit in her head using the lavish decor as landmarks. She wanted to struggle. She did not appreciate the thick hand resting on her arse, but a single shift in this enormous man's hand may land it on the hastily concealed bag. They could not be allowed to find it.
She was dumped unceremoniously on a Persian rug in the centre of a large room. The grand windows held a view of the front gates and a large piano stood in pride of place nearby. Delicate furniture was scattered throughout the room and portraits, mostly blonde wizards, glared austerely down at her. She struggled to her feet only to have Lucius push her back to the floor. A flick of his wand had her stretched out on her back, arms and legs restrained as wooden tendrils grew up from the floorboards, tearing through the rug to entwine themselves around her wrists and ankles.
"Now, Miss Granger," he said as two masked figures tied Ron to a chair. "I need you to tell me where Harry Potter is."
Harry was standing in the empty clearing trying not to panic. He'd tried to hitch a ride to where ever the Snatchers had disappeared to but hadn't been fast enough, worried as he was about revealing his presence. So now he was completely alone. He needed a plan. Mad-Eye Moody's voice echoed in his head, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" and so he started recasting the wards around the tent. He'd seen Hermione do it lots of times but it was harder than it looked. He was almost certain he'd messed up the muggle repelling charm but decided that, in the grand scheme of things, it probably didn't matter all that much.
Inside the tent, he took stock of everything he had to work with. He wished that Hermione had thought to leave him the beaded bag, though he supposed he should be grateful that she'd managed everything she had in the short time before the Snatchers arrived. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. He knew that the name was taboo but he'd let it slip out anyway. He'd just been so angry. Ron had pointed out that the way Snape looked at Hermione was oddly reminiscent of the way he'd looked at Harry's mother. He'd suggested that maybe his love for Lily Potter wasn't his only motivation. He'd been trying to reassure Harry of Snape's trustworthiness but it had had the opposite effect. How dare the greasy git lay his hands on his best friend! He tried to ignore the voice inside him that said Ron was his best friend. He felt sickened at himself after he'd seen Hermione's doubts brought to life by the horcrux.
He had his cloak, a stack of meals, and the pouch Hagrid had given him for his birthday, the Marauders' Map concealed inside. He dismantled the tent, rolling it up carefully and placing it inside its battered case. It still baffled him that it could be dismantled with everything still inside. He hid it beneath the ferns at the base of a nearby tree, marking the trunk with a small X.
If he was going to find his friends, he needed help.
Covered in his cloak he arrived with a crack in the centre of Hogsmeade. His own face flickered over and over again on shop windows, Undesirable No. One emblazoned beneath his snarling features. Though hardly busy, the town showed a few signs of life. Women hurried in groups between shops, completing their shopping, a couple of burly men were loitering outside of the Hog's Head, and a small child, no more than five or six, was trying to drag his grandmother into Honeydukes. Seeing his chance, Harry followed the pair and slipped into the shop behind them, the familiar peal of the bell alerting the proprietor to his customers.
The ageing wizard, his moustache thick and shiny while his hair fell thin and limp, waddled over to the only two customers in his shop, clearly glad of the opportunity for a sale. Harry ducked silently behind the counter and slipped down the wooden staircase, the voices ("How about a jelly snake for the young man?") faded as he reached the cellar. Though it had been years since he'd travelled through this particular passage way, he found the trapdoor with no difficulty, swinging it open and scurrying down the ladder.
The light from his wand was just enough to stop him banging his head on the low ceiling or tripping over misplaced rocks. He ran along the tunnel as quickly as possible, conscious of his friends and the danger every passing minute put them in. He'd never forgive himself of something happened to them. He'd done enough damage to their lives as it was; Hermione had lost her parents because of him.
Inside the statue of the One-Eyed Witch, Harry revealed the sepia ink of the map and checked the corridor he was in. Nothing, it looked like everyone was in class. He tapped the inside of her hump, whispering "dissendium" as he did so and slowly pushed open the exit. He clambered out, careful to muffle his landing and closed the passage behind him. He scanned the map, looking for any trace of the headmaster and, on finding none, decided that his best bet was waiting near his office.
He took the first available staircase down and nearly ran smack into McGonagall as she careened around a corner, muttering under her breath, "Wants to see me, does he? Thinks he can summon me whenever he fancies? He's going to regret ever setting foot in the castle." The litany continued as she strode towards the staffroom, robes flaring out dramatically behind her, reminding Harry of the professor of whom she was speaking. He let her get a full corridor's length ahead of him before taking the same path, every muscle in his body focused on being stealthy.
The bell rang.
Doors opened at either end of the corridor and students swarmed, their chattering and shrieks of laughter harsh on Harry's ears after so long on the run. He was only metres away from an alcove and made a dash for it, the sound of his footsteps no longer an issue. He dove in alongside the suit of armour, his cloak whipping behind him, just in time. Students, some he recognised and some he didn't, pounded past his hiding place and all Harry could do was wait. Wait whilst his friends were being put through who knew what.
The thickness of the crowd began to recede until it was just a straggler or two, the rest of them safely down to the Great Hall for dinner. He checked the map to make sure the coast was clear and then carried on towards the griffin that guarded the staircase to the headmaster's office. He slumped onto a windowsill once he reached the right corridor and examined the map once more, looking for any trace of Snape. There! Sat smack in the middle of the staff table in the Great Hall. He hoped Snape wouldn't linger too long over his dinner, Harry could hardly approach him now.
Time seemed to drag as he settled in to wait, horrid images of what could be happening to Ron and Hermione flashing through his mind. After a long twenty minutes, Snape's dot moved from the table and, much to Harry's relief, headed towards his office alone. Harry stood ready to intercept the professor but wasn't entirely sure how to go about it. Snape appeared at the end of the corridor, black robes billowing in a way that reminded Harry of a wind tunnel.
"Dumbledore," Snape said to the griffin and the spiral staircase began to corkscrew its way out of the smooth stone floor. Snape alighted it gracefully and Harry allowed him to rise a few steps before stepping on himself. As soon as his shoe scuffed the stone, Snape was facing him, wand drawn and pointing directly in his face. "Who's there?"
"It's me, sir," Harry said in a voice barely above a whisper, feeling a little daft. Snape tucked his wand away and turn to face forwards once more. Harry was reminded of the time he'd told Snape that Voldemort had Sirius, how he had acted like he was talking gibberish. Now, of course, he realised that Snape's reaction had been designed to deflect suspicion. He should have realised it then as well.
Harry followed Snape through the familiar office and through a door he'd never noticed before, tucked between a bookshelf and a large stained-glass window. Snape's quarters were surprisingly normal looking. The desks and bookshelves were hardly a surprise but the squashy leather armchairs and large dog curled up in a blanket came as a bit of a shock. The dog rushed over to its master, jumping up to greet him before rushing at Harry, dislodging his cloak. Not a fan of dogs in general (Ripper in particular) Harry backed away from the over-excited border collie and hit the wall with a dull thump.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing here, Potter?" Snape asked, his voice reminding Harry of humiliating Potions lessons.
"I didn't know where else to come for help," Harry started.
"Help with what?" Snape ground out when Harry couldn't bring himself to say anything.
"I accidentally triggered the taboo."
Snape bore down on him, eyes cold with anger. Harry had never before appreciated just how much taller than him the professor was. "You did what?"
"I triggered the taboo and Snatchers arrived. Hermione thought quickly enough to hide me under the invisibility cloak," he held up the offending item, "but they were both captured. I tried to hitch a ride with them but couldn't reach them in time."
"Were they recognised?"
"Yes," Harry admitted. "They lied but Marietta Edgecombe was with them. She's hated Hermione since our fifth year and gave her away."
"Did they say where they were taking them?"
"Just 'the Manor'," Harry explained. "I didn't know where they meant so I decided coming to you was the best idea."
"They've taken them to Malfoy Manor, Potter." Harry's stomach turned to ice. "You'd better hope it isn't Bellatrix on duty today."
"What do we do?" Harry asked.
"We go and get them, of course." The professor disappeared through a door and reappeared without his usual robe, a Death Eater mask and bundle of material clasped under his arm. "Put the cloak on, Potter, and follow my instructions to the letter."
"Yes, sir," Harry said almost automatically and concealed himself beneath the cloak once more.
"Don't make me ask again, Miss Granger."
His wand was pointed directly at her stomach and Hermione struggled against her restraints.
"You can't honestly think I'm going to tell you that," she retorted. "I know you're not that stupid, Mr Malfoy."
"Why you insolent little chit," he spat. "Spasmos."
Intense cramps began to radiate from her middle, making her muscles shudder and quake. She imagined that those unused to such sensations would find it unbearable but it was akin to the cramps she experienced on a regular basis, thanks to Mother Nature. She smiled at Lucius, distancing herself from the pain as best she could.
"Is that really the best you can do?" She couldn't help the retort though she knew it was a bad idea. This kind of treatment seemed to bring out her more rebellious side.
"Oh, don't worry, Miss Granger, this is just the beginning." Hermione found his voice disconcertingly calm. "Do you know the origins of the spasming charm?"
She wracked her brain; she was sure she'd never heard the incantation before, never come across it while reading.
"I see you don't," Lucius said with a smile. "The charm goes back, as far as I'm aware, to Roman times. Something long known about the Romans is their proclivity for indiscriminate fucking. That, naturally, led to indiscriminate pregnancies. It wouldn't do to have half-breed children running around, polluting the bloodlines, so one wizard, my namesake as it happens, created a spell to rid women of unwanted children. Spasmos," he cast again.
The cramping renewed itself, more intense this time, making Hermione gasp in pain. She wanted nothing more than to curl in on herself and cradle her stomach. "But I'm not pregnant," Hermione said once the cramps had receded. "Why use it?"
"Firstly," Lucius said, holding up a finger, "this kind of pain is exhausting. It will lower your defences. Secondly," he added a second finger to the first, "it causes lasting damage, the kind you may never recover from. Too many applications of this charm, Miss Granger, will destroy your uterus." She couldn't help the gasp of shock that escaped her. "And then, as the pain spreads, it will begin to damage other vital systems. Your kidneys, your bowel. The longer you resist, Miss Granger, the more damage you are inflicting on yourself. Spasmos!"
A fresh wave of pain engulfed her, more intense than before. Her body shook with the spasms, her bare arms rubbed raw by the expensive carpet beneath her and blood welled at her wrists and ankles, agitated by the restraints. He was slowly tearing her apart.
He cursed her again.
This time, Hermione felt hot liquid seep from between her legs.
Ron was wrestling against his restraints, grunting screams silenced by the thread through his lips.
"Now, Miss Granger," Lucius strode over to her, kneeling on the floor, straddled over her waist, "let's see what you have in that pretty little head of yours. Legilimens!"
She was glad of the warning, it gave her just enough time to light a fire in her head.
"How quaint, someone's taught the little mudblood to Occlude," mind-Lucius taunted. She ignored him, hiding behind her fire. "Come out, come out, mudblood." He prowled towards her flames, pushing in an experimental hand. He recoiled quickly, his sleeve singed. "Aguamenti," he cast, water spraying from his wand.
The flames sizzled and hissed but refused to yield. He was not getting inside her mind. She could no longer feel his weight on her chest, no longer feel the pain of her body. All she knew was the fire in her mind. It flared as she concentrated, letting it engulf her in its delicious heat. Mind-Lucius was pushed further from her secrets. She let her need to protect Harry and Severus fuel her flames and a violent gout of blue flame forced the intruder from her mind.
Lucius stumbled away from her, catching himself on the back of a chaise longue. He turned to face her, blonde hair stuck in sweaty strands to his forehead and panting. "Fire may protect you in there, but it can't save you out here."
She saw Ron's eyes widen a split second before reality smacked her in the face. She centred herself and summoned a spark.
Fire, after all, is catching.