Hey guys... Note the horrendously guilty tone here...
I know... It's been FOUR BLOODY MONTHS! Seriously, i'd crucio myself if I could... but unfortunately I had a massive writer's block on this chapter (seriously, I've finished the next two chapters already -_- but this one? Couldn't get past the damn thing!). Also I happened to quit uni ahead of time because, you know, Life Decisions, and managed to trudge out of Depression. Three hips & hooray! :D
Anyhow, this all means that this chapter is nearly 6000 words long and I just can't go back again and try to make it better. So I hope you guys like it (a little at least? :P) and I'll see you at the end. xx
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Draco was walking fast, lost in thought. It had been an excruciatingly long journey to London from Hogwarts, and if it weren't for magic they would have probably frozen to death and fallen to their doom. He was currently cursing under his breath. Wonderboy _ although it felt increasingly wrong to make fun of his only current ally_ had made them land in the London suburbs, before using The Underground. Horrible invention if you asked him. It was loud, definitely smelt of unknown rotting things, and held a population of drunk, homeless, dangerous looking people. In fact, some of them smelt (and looked) like they spent way too much time underneath London and had started turning into those weird, previously mentioned rotting things he suspected were lurking around somewhere. Then again, after living in Malfoy Manor, anything or anyone could have looked poor and beneath him to Draco. He also supposed his ongoing fear was simply paranoia: Anyone could be a Death Eater in disguise, anyone. Well, apart from that especially nose-wrenching excuse of a man at the entrance of the station with a fully insect-stocked beard. Urgh. Disgusting Muggles.
Hermione would have been fuming at their audacity, but she wasn't here, so they had _ admittedly with a tinge of guilt_ gotten illegally onto the underground, removing and reapplying the disillusionment charms at appropriate moments. Which brought him back to thinking about the missing witch as they sat silently in foldable chairs (Honestly, Muggles!), trying to look as common as possible. Yes, his thoughts were permanently attached to her. Hermione, against all odds, had accepted him as an ally, as a friend, as a part of their small resistance. She had trusted him when even he wouldn't have, saved him when no one else in the world but his parents would have, and made him feel like a real human being. Like a person worth keeping by your side. No one had ever done that for him, not one person. He'd never had close friends like she had, and knowing her and seeing her relationship with Potter and the Weasel had opened his eyes ever so slightly.
Before he'd had a chance to brace himself, he had been pulled into her world completely, leaving behind the thin line between Light and Dark where he had been wandering aimlessly for a while now, trying to make his own decisions and decide where he wanted to belong. She had made it possible for him to finally leave that dark place in his past and dive into somewhere terrifying, but filled with possibilities. For the first time ever, he was making his own decisions, and he was free to choose this time what he wanted to believe in and what to fight for.
He'd never fought for anything before. It was a terrifying, exciting and dangerous journey he had embarked on, expecting to have to do it alone. But in all her generosity and quality, Hermione had yet again proven him wrong as she found it in herself to offer him a part of what she had. She had slowly, without even knowing it, taught him about real friendship, real relationships. Yes, bafflingly, those tiny actions and the miniscule amount of time he had spent with her had changed him immensely. Growing up in Malfoy Manor, he had thought his parents cold and distant, and thus every human seemed to be the same as them in his eyes. Only when he had truly been in danger had Narcissa and Lucius stood up and changed allegiances, risking everything for him. And their actions had spoken greatly, but without Hermione by his side to save him and make their sacrifice worthwhile, without the danger she had put herself in over and over again to save his sorry ass, he would have never truly understood the value of human sentiments. But now he knew: humans were nothing without each other, nothing. And against the Dark Lord, without each other they were dead.
A year back, he would have never thought it possible, but he was sick with worry. And grief. Merlin, all his thoughts kept coming back to the bushy haired, ill-tempered, wonderful witch. His throat was so tight he could barely breathe, and he was having a hard time keeping up a serene mask. All he wanted to do was turn around, burst into his Manor and search for answers, in Death if necessary. But that would be useless.
Besides, he didn't think he could bare to die without seeing her one last time, to thank her, and to save her from the fate she had set upon herself to protect him. Those last few seconds of freedom she had had, she'd used not to save herself, but to save him by throwing him backwards. Him! Even if she had done it so that her best friend Potter had an ally with insight on the Death Eaters, that still meant she had trusted him to keep working with WonderBoy, despite his past prejudice against them all.
By Salazar, the woman had offered her own life to save his worthless self, and he would be forever grateful. But he was starting to realise that the strange thing with humans is that, when you truly care for someone, you would risk everything, absolutely everything, for someone who is important to you.
And then it hit him like a train at full speed, like a hurricane breaking the coast and ripping up all the houses and roads in a fury, bringing them crashing down in an earthquake of realisation.
He loved her.
He, Draco Malfoy, loved the amazing witch that was Hermione Granger.
And he would be damned if he didn't find her.
"We're here." said a low voice from his left as the train skidded to yet another stop.
They swiftly and silently got off, saving Draco from having to deal with the burning pain that had spread through his chest at his sudden epiphany. Really, he was quite thick for not having understood this sooner, he thought.
They stepped into the open air with a slight sigh of relief, before crouching and scurrying into the shadows, trying to render themselves invisible in the brightly lit capital. Harry in the lead, they took one dark alley, then another, and another. It never seemed to end, as they looked for the safest place to go, the least bright streets to use at every turn.
"Is it just me or does London go on .er?" complained Draco as they walked briskly down a seemingly unending road. It's amazing what lack of sleep and utter stress can do to a man's composure.
They had transfigured their clothes to blend in with the Muggle Londoners and were hiding their faces beneath their dark hoods. Finally, after twenty minutes of scurrying through the British capital, Harry signalled to his right over his shoulder and Draco followed as they walked into an adjacent back alley.
"This should be it," whispered Harry, pulling his hood down.
Draco kept his up, only too aware of his bright blond hair that had a habit of shining alike a beacon in the night. They stepped into the shadows of the tallest building, hidden behind a dumpster bin, wands clutched in their nervous fists.
"Are you sure this is it?" Draco whispered back.
"I can't be sure, it's not like he drew a map or anything." There was little hatred in the messy-haired boy's words. It only goes to show how desperate both of them were for an ally.
Waiting silently in the dark for their only friends, knowing full well this could all become a death trap within minutes, was one of the most disturbing and mind twisting experiences Harry had been through. And that's saying something. After what felt like hours but was in fact only a dozen minutes, he felt twitchy and antsy, so he silently cast a Homenum Revelio, only to come up empty handed.
They waited another twenty minutes before Draco decided they would leave as soon as the hour clocked by. Ron had ten minutes to get here. As much as Harry wanted to find his best friend and was in desperate need of extra help, they just couldn't risk staying there any longer.
Finally, the old watch Harry had stolen from Vernon earlier that year ticked by twelve and he threw his hood back over his unruly jet-black hair.
"Let's go," he spoke in a low tone to his old rival.
They made their way to the end of the alley, wands hidden up their sleeves, and, after a glance right Harry turned left, Draco on his heel. That's when the fists grabbed them by their necks and shoved them back into the deserted street and up against the building.
"Not a single twitch." growled a low masculine, unforgiving, voice from under a battered Muggle-looking cloak.
Draco tensed up, not noticing Harry's shoulders slump down slightly in relief, but became quickly distracted by the two long braids of blond hair that were hanging from under his own attacker's large hood.
"Ron! Luna!" Harry cried happily.
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"Harry!" Ron spoke in a hurried low tone as he let go of his best friend's neck. "Merlin it feels good to see you again." He pulled him into a quick hug.
"Same here Ron, God I'm glad you made it. Luna, as always it is a pleasure." He smiled at the girl and she grinned back silently, before opening up her arms for an equally short hug.
Draco just stood there, trying to look stoic, or at least uninterested. He looked like a statue, his grey eyes burning with conflicting emotions. In truth, he felt incredibly awkward, and misplaced, like he really, unequivocally did not belong in this scene. Without Hermione here, he was out of place, an unwanted extra. His jaw tensed at the memory of the girl who should have been here instead of him. His whole body felt like it was suffering from a deadly heartburn, begging to be dragged into the shadows and left there, forgotten.
"Wait," said Ron, pulling Draco from his thoughts as their situation suddenly dawning on him. "Where's Hermione?"
His words were heavy, as if he already sensed the pit above which he was hovering and needed reassuring that he was imagining it all. However, the silence that followed spoke volumes, and the words that followed made it worse.
"They got her, Ron," articulated Harry slowly, his voice only a husky whisper, and Ron felt his heart shatter to pieces in that strange way, the type that you only understand when it is actually hitting you square in the face, the type that feels physically real, when your mind starts to panic and scream and the silence around you is deafening. He had zoned out for a little, and Harry's words brought him back to reality: "One minute she was there, the next she had gone off somewhere. They found her before we could, Ron... I'm so sorry."
There was no colour to describe the emotion in Ron's eyes at that moment. There was loss and despair, worry and anger, suspicion as he glanced at Draco, fury and discouragement, and an overwhelming sense of need. At that moment, Ron had never seemed more human or, strangely enough, powerful.
"So where is she now?" he asked to no one in particular.
In all honesty, his tone was somewhat light-hearted when he spoke those words, not out of disinterest, but because he was simply dealing with her potential loss in the only way he knew how: by sounding unaffected by it all. This however, was not something Draco Malfoy could understand, and as the other man in her life who now knew he was completely, irrevocably in love with her, the words lit a fire of indignation and pure rage in his eyes.
His hand darted forwards too fast for any of them to react, closing his fist around the Weasel's collar before shoving him up against the nearest wall unceremoniously.
"Don't you dare speak of her like that!" he hissed savagely before two pairs of arms dragged him backwards and away from the misunderstood wizard.
"She's my best friend, I'll talk about her as much as I want! Where is she?" he asked, turning to Harry who was dusting off his robes, and in his despair Draco didn't even notice the man had called Hermione his best friend, nothing more.
"We don't know, we're waiting for news from Snape, that's all we can do right now."
Ron gave an acknowledging bow of his head, all childishness gone from his cobalt eyes, and Harry wondered for a moment just how much the ginger boy had changed during the short time they had been apart.
"Its okay," he cooed his fiery friend as he glared at the man who was once their enemy and was now being coaxed into standing watch by Luna. "He's just as shaken about her as we are. If not more."
He had spoken the last words so silently it was a surprise Ron even heard him, but the way his eyebrows lifted up into his hairline made it quite clear. Harry gave him a look that said "I'll explain later" and he nodded in return.
The two best friends, finally reunited, put their heads together to find a plan of action now that they were the most wanted fugitives, wandering the cities of the British capital.
They finally made a beeline for the closest, more rundown hotel they could find, which sat at the end of an unlit street closed off by a long building waiting to be demolished. One by one, they slipped in through the broken door, of which the glass was cracked and the frame wouldn't fit into the opening properly, making it impossible to close.
Luna automatically took the lead, not giving any of the guys the time to think it through. She walked up to a long bar-like front desk, equipped with a plastic panel closing off anything behind it from them. The man behind the desk looked about fifty, his back hunched in an uncomfortable looking position, black hair covering his ears but desperately missing from the top half of his skull. He had a long nose and nice lips, which he pursed as he peered over his round, thick glasses, slipping them down his nose to suspiciously look them up and down. He was met with a brilliant, pearly white smile and a pair of cute blond braids bringing out Luna's shiny eyes.
Too easy, thought Draco from the back of their little group.
Luna went on to ask for a room for the night, to which the owner answered he had a room with two double beds, if they could pay up front. Otherwise it was back to the street. This caused an uncomfortable silence as they all realised they had no Muggle money, before Ron simply took one step forward, and slipped a fifty pound note onto the desk and under the plastic separation. The owner took it and checked it in the light, before deeming it satisfying and slipping it into a makeshift till_ a metal box. Ron then took out another identical not, and put it in the same place as he had the first, not taking his hand off it this time. The owner glanced down, before looking up again.
"For your discretion of our presence here." Ron announced calmly.
The hotel owner looked down again, his eyes calculating fast, before he gave a curt nod and Ron removed his hand from the money, which disappeared just as fast as the first one had. He then took the key that was being slid his way, and the four of them disappeared up the hotel staircase.
Once they reached their room_ number 117_ Ron handed the key to Harry so he could open the door to their shared room.
"For someone who has no money, you were quite useful back there Weasley," taunted Malfoy as they stood in the mold-smelling corridor.
"For someone who has lots of it, you were quite useless back there Malfoy," retaliated Ron without even glancing his way.
This for some reason didn't anger Draco, only made him smirk so slightly it wasn't noticeable. It reminded him of what Hermione would have said had she been here. Thankfully, the door finally opening allowed him to get distracted and not get pulled into the dark pit of despair again.
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Bellatrix Lestrange was a mad woman. Worse, she was as mad as she was dangerous, and yet she was angrier than both combined.
And she was proving it to Hermione in ways she would never forget.
Hermione Granger however, was a strong woman. Stronger than most people. Better, she was as strong as she was proud, and she was more loyal than Bellatrix had expected.
She would not break. Not when the gaunt woman crucioed her to the point that she fainted, not when she woke her up with another more cruel spell, not when Bellatrix screamed in anger and put her wand away to pull out a long, sharp dagger. Not even when the mad woman started to draw fine lines of blood all over her body, one by one. Four on her right arm, six on the other, two long parallel lines along her abdomen, one on her neck, another over her eyebrow, the pain just didn't stop. The tears and the sobs didn't stop either. The screams were uninterrupted.
But not even then did she break. She refused to give up. And when her own spirit finally said 'no more', Hermione imagined Harry in her place, and it gave her the strength to carry on.
Yes, Harry gave her the will to continue. He was her best friend, she knew him so well and she knew that he would give his life for her if he had to. Therefor so would she.
And then there was Ron, who she could just imagine in her place, turning bright red as he spurted out insults after insults, blindly ignoring everything the Death Eaters could say to him. He would probably even spit at their feet. Ron might not be the most refined person, but he sure had spirit. And when Harry slowly faded from her mind, chased away by the coursing, unrelenting pain, Hermione thought of Ron. And it kept her going, if only a little longer.
Crumpled on the floor, blood gushing out of her broken nose after being hexed in the face, Hermione groaned and forced herself to sit up, knowing full well the tendons in her ankles had been rendered useless. She was and would always be a cripple unless she was healed soon. But then again, it didn't matter if one were crippled in death...
Bellatrix was glaring at her from across the cell with all the rage she could muster, her wand in one hand, the dagger in the other, drops of blood slipping down the blade and dripping to the floor. But the witch's anger only gave Hermione more courage. It was proof that she was winning. It was proof that Bellatrix Lestrange also thought that her prey would remain silent.
Hermione smiled savagely as she wiped her mouth of the warm red liquid. Harry would glare at this woman. Harry would spit at her, passion blazing through his green eyes. Harry was the Chosen One not because the prophecy had stated it, but because he had embraced it. It had taken some time, but he knew what he had to do. And so did she.
Harry had to stop Voldemort. She had to stop Bellatrix from getting to him. That was her fate.
Wasn't it?
There was a tiny voice in her head, begging her to save herself, begging her to tell them what they needed to do. For him. She couldn't even figure out if the voice was real or if she had finally been broken and was slowly going crazy. Or maybe it was a spell Bellatrix had set on her to make her give up her silence. Either way she was paranoid and nearly broken. It was getting harder to resist talking.
But even if she did tell the Death Eaters what they wanted to hear, she would still be killed afterwards. The voice in her head was a weakness, only a weakness. So Hermione ignored the voice and swore to herself never to speak a word again.
Bellatrix Lestrange was furious with her. She strode out yet again of her captive's cell, slamming the heavy hobnailed metal door behind her, and marched up the stairs to the main building, looking for someone she could release her anger on, possibly by Avada-ing them without falling under her Lord's fury. However, as she emerged in the large room equipped only with a round table and tall metal chairs, she found the only person around was her husband.
"That little bint won't break!" she cried out at him in anger as she collapsed into an adjacent chair and swung her slender legs onto the table. "Whatever I do, she just keeps that little mudblood mouth of hers shut!
Her husband just kept silent. Watching her intently as he waited for her rant to be over.
"I've done this before." she scoffed with a maniacal look about her. "Oh yes, I know what I'm doing! But this bitch? Nothing! Abso-fucking-lutely nothing! The Dark Lord is going to be furious at us when he finds out she's here but won't speak!"
"Then kill her," said her husband calmly, as if it were the simplest and most common thing in the world. "We can just tell him she had no information to offer us."
"I'm not sure, the Dark Lord seems to think she could be useful..."
"Or let me, I'd love to take care of..."
"No." she interrupted. As she spoke up again, a sinister grin lit up her face. "She's mine."
And then, as she crossed her hands behind her head and swung her chair backwards onto two feet, she sighed blissfully in anticipation.
"I'll do it tomorrow."
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"We'll do it tomorrow."
"Did you finally go insane from all that red hair Weasley?"
Draco practically spat the words out. They were locked up in their small (bloody awful) hotel room. Ron and Harry were crouched next to a map of London spread out on the floor. Draco stood at a safe distance, refusing to touch the suspiciously grey carpet, and leant against the only desk in the room, arms crossed. Luna sat on one of the beds, swinging her legs happily as if they were planning a camping trip.
"Cut the crap Malfoy," he retaliated with an unusual sigh of fatigue. He was quite possibly acting like a grown man dealing with a petulant child... which was weird for Ron. "Listen, we need to find Hermione as soon as possible. We all agree on this, right?"
He looked expectantly at him, though the question addressed them all. Draco's jaw twitched from being tense.
"Of course." He hissed between clenched teeth, arms still crossed defensively.
Harry nodded in silence, and Luna's soft voice broke the tension from her spot on the bed.
"I think so too," she said. She had a wide innocent smile even in such a room and circumstance. However, as surprised (or more admittedly just plain disturbed) as Harry and Draco were, had they not been sitting they might have collapsed at Ron's next words.
"Thank you Luna," he said with a genuine smile and completely _ by Salazar_ honest tone.
Would you look at that, Draco thought, Loony's actually broken the Weasel. If had known this day would come, I would have placed a bet!
And as in all matters concerning Luna Lovegood, she nearly shocked the daylights out of him as she suddenly turned to burrow her strange doe eyes into his own metallic ones, as if she'd been able to hear him. But of course, he was a Malfoy, so all the emotions that had coursed through him were solely shown through the small frown line on his forehead. Then Luna simply turned again and went back to happily swinging her legs back and forth, seemingly inattentive.
"So yes, tomorrow." announced Ron, turning their attention back to the subject at hand. "Now, we've figured out how to get into Gringotts, but not how to get to the vault or how to get out. I suppose that'll be decided on the moment Harry?"
The ginger man smirked at his best friend knowingly, who rolled his eyes at him, a ghost of a smirk on his face. They had indeed a history of just whinging it when it came to escape plans.
"I'm sure we'll find a way," he said, going back to seriousness. "Though it'd probably be better if we could know exactly where we're going, so we could find a way out..."
He glanced up at Luna, who answered the indirect question.
"I don't know Harry, as I told Ron before, I only heard that He had given Bellatrix Lestrange something to guard, and that the Goblins would keep it safe."
"Exactly," added Ron. "And there are no other places in England where Goblins work. The closest aside from Gringotts are the gold mines in Ireland, where they buy all their jewels from... well from whoever has them really. And from Potterwatch, we know that Gringotts has been taken over. Also, that the filthy bitch was there just last week, hence us meeting in London in the first place. Everything points to Gringotts."
From his side of the room, Draco's teeth were grinding. Not from the fact that Weaselbee had just called his aunt a bitch, no that he couldn't care less about. However, he was concentrated. He might not be as clever as Hermione (insert another step into his own personal pit of despair here) but he was smart. Smarter than those two at least. Before sharing his inkling of a plan first though, he had a question:
"What's this Potterwatch nonsense?"
Ron didn't even glance up at him as he searched the map for any indicator that there might be another exit to Gringotts. After all, you never knew with magic.
"Mmm? Oh, it's this radio channel a few of the Resistance are part of. The password changes everyday and I'd lost it, but when Luna was healing I figured it out again. They keep most of us sane, and a little in formed of what might be going on out there. Oh Harry!" At this he looked up for a second. "Dean and Griphook made it you know, Dean's now on the radio team."
Harry smiled and said he was glad for some good news at least, before they rolled up the map with a sigh of exasperation at finding nothing. It didn't seem anyone bar the Gringotts staff actually knew of any secret exit there might be.
"So what now?" Harry asked them all, leaning back against the bed opposite Luna and closing his eyes in exhaustion. He wanted the war over, and he wanted his friend back unharmed. Would he even get either?
"I have an idea, but I don't know if it's possible." drawled Draco from the desk. Harry cracked an eye open and watched as Malfoy spun the lonely chair around, sat on it, back between his legs, and rested his head on his crossed elbows. He didn't think he'd ever seen Malfoy so... relaxed. Though his expression broke all impression of comfort. He was angry. And scared maybe. Harry couldn't really tell.
"Go on then." Ron called from the window, his eyes peering suspiciously out at the street.
"We use Polyjuice potion, we turn into Bellatrix and her crew and we simply get the Goblins to drive us down into the vault, get the horcrux, and drive us back out again."
They all froze. Luna had a foot halfway through the air and Harry was stuck in a glance to Ron, which was returned. It was so simple and straightforward. And unexpected.
Then, in a fit of childishness, both boys both threw their arms into the air and wailed: "Why didn't we think of that?!". Seriously, no sarcasm intended.
"Perhaps because you are as dumb as Mountain trolls?" he drawled at them, one eyebrow lifted cockily at them.
"Har Har Malfoy, hilarious. Now where would we get four reliable hairs for a Polyjuice potion? Or for that matter, Polyjuice potion."
"Ah!" Harry exclaimed, before turning to grab something from under the bed. "I might have something for that."
"Is that Hermione's bag?" Draco asked curiously, uncrossing his arms for the first time that evening.
"It is, and if I'm not mistaken..."
He cheered victoriously as he brandished a plastic bottle filled with mud-like liquid. Across the front was neatly scribbled Poly-Potion.
"And the hairs, genius?" Ron taunted Draco.
"A simple precaution I took whilst I was hunting Horcruxes on my own," he answered in turn, delving his hand into his extendable pocket and pulling out a small pouch. It looked suspiciously like a Muggle makeup bag.
At Ron's open mouth and sideways glances to Harry, Draco assumed the ginger wizard hadn't heard of how he'd started off as a lonely third party in the war, with only Severus as ally, before changing tot their side upon meeting Hermione again.
"Oh get over it Weasley," he spat in his frustration at having remembered the bushy haired witch again. Could he not stop suffering for once second? He continued nevertheless: "I needed to get around without looking suspicious, so I took it in turns to look suspicious as all the death eaters. It was all Snape's plan anyways."
With that he opened the pouch, peered inside and reached for four strands of hair in plastic protections. It was all very... Muggle, Harry thought.
"So who turns into Bellatrix?"
"Well obviously that would be Malfoy." Ron answered, leaving his position by the window to stand opposite the blond, arms crossed. Draco noticed Harry trying to stifle a laugh before turning to face the idiot who had just spoken.
"What?" His voice seemed as cold as death. "Weasley you must be delirious if you actually think I'll be turning into the woman who is most likely hurting Hermione right now! Why not you?!"
"As if I know anything about the bitch you moron!" he retaliated mockingly.
"He's right Malfoy," Harry intervened. "You know here better than any of us do."
Malfoy simply stared at them both in disbelief, arms hanging loosely by his side as he tried to figure out if they were being serious or not. Then someone he had nearly forgotten about distracted him for a moment:
"I don't think you should turn into that woman Draco." Luna said quietly from his left.
"There! One person here is still sane!" he shouted in relief, throwing his arms upwards (though he'd never thought it would be her). But before he could say another word, Luna's voice started again:
"Yes, turning into a goblin would be much more fruitful."
There was a long stretching silence as all three of them pictured the blond man with a long, hooked nose, unendingly long ears and beady, angry eyes. Harry's and Ron's laughs broke out so suddenly and so loudly that Draco felt sure they'd be heard from the street as he covered his ears angrily, glaring at them with everything he had.
"We can't do that, his ridiculously blond hair would scream if it was turning into goblin hairs!" Ron choked out between laughs, doubling Harry over.
"You're one to talk, Carrot Top." Draco hissed angrily at them. But his insults were unable to break through their mirth. So he rolled his eyes and sat back down, waiting for them to stop. Never had he been so incapable of breaking them down. Really, what had he become?
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It was eight in the morning, and for some reason it was freezing. Luna had come up with a theory supposing it was due to the presence of Death Eaters in Diagon Alley, that somehow they had slowly been embedded with Dementor essence as they turned into darker creatures. Ronald had admitted he was sure it was due to one of his siblings, who had cursed the street.
Harry hugged his cloak closer as he shivered, glancing at Draco Malfoy who stood to his right. He looked fine, the bastard, standing there as if nothing could affect him. But Harry knew better. He could see the fire burning in the grey eyes and knew that the ex-Death Eater was like a panther ready to pounce, immobile right before the attack. He wanted to get this over and done with, before setting off to find Hermione. How the two of them had become so emotionally tangled together in such a short amount of time baffled Harry to no end, and he was starting to suspect something else was at work here, but now was not the time or place to ponder about it.
They were stood in Knocturn Alley, from where they had a line of sight to Gringotts Bank. Getting here unseen had been a miracle (or a trap, only the near future could reveal that), and so they stood, hidden by the shadows of the ominous buildings around them.
"Right," whispered Ron, turning to face him and Luna who stood by his side. He seemed to have taken on Hermione's role of organiser. It was the strangest thing Harry had seen yet. "Everyone grab a vial. No, not that one Malfoy, you still get Bellatrix, don't try to slip out of this one."
Malfoy glared at him, snatching the bottle Ron was handing him without a word, surely forgetting it didn't have the same effect as he was wearing a dress. Yes, you heard right, a dress. A short, lace and torn black dress that would have made the most gothic teenager smile. A half-hearted smirk crept onto Harry's face.
"Well," he sighed, uncorking the vial of mud. "Bottoms up."
They all gulped the liquid down with pained expressions, before gagging and turning away from each other. By the time they had recomposed themselves, they all looked completely different.
"Right." said the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Now we wait for the highly intelligent magical creatures we're trying to trick to open the doors of their fortress."
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SOOOO... yeah, review if you like, I'm not too sure what to think of this chapter, but I now hate it so much from blocking me for 4 months (still can't get over that) that I'm posting it anyways.
The next ones should be... um... interesting? Kekeke (that's an evil laugh, yes, kekeke) Well written better anyways.
Can't wait to finish up the next ones, tell me what you think! (nicely please ^^).
xx