A.N. I'm really excited about this chapter and I hope you are too! I am already feeling so much better going back to writing at my own pace. I hope everyone of you is staying safe and healthy in this time in whatever way you can! Your kind words mean the world to me, and I dedicate this chapter to all of you!
Lucius Malfoy was 100% without a doubt the most dramatic person Hermione had ever met. Now you would think that was a bold claim considering she lived with Lavender Brown for 6 years, but it was true.
"Do you ever clean?" He had asked her dismissively, pulling out a handkerchief she had no doubt was worth more than her parent's house and rubbing it along the handles of the armchair he was going to sit in. The floral upholstery was faded from years of sun exposure, and the wood was slightly stripped from lack of care, but it was still a nice old chair that Hermione often enjoyed escaping to with a book.
"Frequently." She bit back, reminding herself for the third time that week that murdering him would bring unwanted attention. Her meetings with Lucius had increased in quantity now that she was actively trying to figure out how to destroy the horcruxes. Fiendfyre itched at the back of her mind, but she knew it was too dangerous; even with some of the most powerful wizards in Britain aiding her.
"And you're certain about this contact?" Hermione puzzled, grasping her tea mug to her face to fight against the slight chill in the air. It was a dreary beginning to April, as rain had plagued them for days now.
"Certain about their possession of basilisk venom? Yes. Certain they won't try and rob you of your galleons and leave you to die? Not so." Lucius' condescending aristocratic smile painted his features and Hermione found herself once again lamenting his handsomeness. Just like his son, insufferable but incredibly attractive.
"That's…" Hermione paused to take a sip, staring at the flames from the fire as they licked the stones in the fireplace. The light crackling that it provided filled the space when words did not, keeping the awkwardness of their interaction from trapping her. "Lets say I don't die. We still need a goblin-wrought blade. What if…" The gears began turning in her head and she snapped her head up, making eye contact with the pureblooded wizard. His icy blonde hair was pulled back with a rich-looking grey velvet ribbon, and he remarked her with a hesitant interest at the wild look on her face.
"Either you've finally gone insane or you've had an idea. I'm not entirely sure which I find more disagreeable." Lucius' eyes followed her as she ran out of the room and returned a moment later with a book in her hand.
"I knew this would come in handy one day." Hermione thumbed through the pages, her eyes searching rapidly across the text. With a loud aha, she tossed the book at Malfoy. "Your grandfather lost this dagger in a bet with Rawden Lestrange. Talk to Bella. Insist that you want to try to get it back…" Her rambling paused and Lucius smirked at her.
"And what? Bella will walk me down to her husband's vault and open the doors for me? Even if I was to get the cup, assuming its even there yet, didn't you speak of curses that had been placed on it? I'm hardly about to risk my life on a whim." He stood, his lanky body towering over Hermione's petite frame. She had long overcome her needs to shrink down like a wilting flower when someone stood above her. Lucius Malfoy had not scared her before and she would be damned before she'd allow him to intimidate her now.
"Obviously we'd need to confirm the details. I don't know if you've forgotten but I have spent three years of my life preparing for this moment. I am no stranger to preparation. But if I can provide those details. This is our way in." Hermione pressed her finger to the picture of the dagger, a fire behind her eyes. Lucius simply nodded his head non-committedly and walked to her front parlor, grabbing his cloak from the hook that it hung on.
"How is she?" Hermione called, watching his movements still and stiffen as he shifted his cloak.
"Well thank you. Although the smell of my aftershave apparently makes her feel sick. Not to mention she has the elves up at all hours making her Merlin knows what." There was a softness to his eyes as he spoke, and although Hermione knew he would never admit it, he was overjoyed at her cravings and concerns.
"Lucius can I…can I ask you a question?" A lump formed in the back of her throat, and Hermione averted her eyes to a piece of thread coming off the sleeve of her jumper. Her blood flowed to her face as she waited a moment or two for him to respond.
"Very well." His voice was clipped and cold, not unlike how he'd been when they'd first met.
"Why did you take the mark? Abraxas doesn't have it. I know he doesn't. So why do you?" It was something she'd always wondered. It was no secret that Abraxas Malfoy had been one of the original followers of Tom Riddle, but Draco had told her that his grandfather had never born the mark. It was his greatest regret. Hermione had seen it in his eyes when he spoke, she'd seen the scars from where he'd tried to burn it off or cut it.
Lucius' back was to her, facing towards the floo. His hand was curled against the back of the armchair that was next to him, and she could see his grip tighten, the pale skin of his hand turn pink and white from the strain of his grip.
"I was 18 when I met the Dark Lord. My father always spoke very highly of his friend from school. He said that he was going to change the world. I will not apologize for my beliefs Ms. Granger. My family is old and proud, and I still believe that muggleborns threaten our world. I took the mark for the same reason I now shun it now…to protect my family." Lucius turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Hermione with a stony expression. "Now good day Ms. Granger."
With a step forward and a swift drop of floo powder, Lucius disappeared into the flames and back to Malfoy Manor. Hermione's mind was not settled however, and she swallowed back all the questions she had. Maybe one day he would open up to her.
After he had gone, Hermione put up her wards again. Preparing a small bag of galleons and her new traveling cloak, she pulled the hood up around her face and grabbed a handful of floo powder. Her new cloak had a notice-me-not charm cast onto the fabric, leaving Hermione essentially anonymous in the growing crowds of Diagon Alley. Easter holidays allowed for students to run up and down the cobblestone streets of the shopping district, and Hermione took their noise and distraction as an opportunity to slip down to Knockturn Alley unnoticed.
Despite her hardening of spirit and the hell she'd lived through both in her past and her present, Knockturn Alley still turned her stomach and raised the hair on the back of her neck. As the light from Diagon Alley faded around her, she brushed past a mean-looking wizard who glared at her as she passed.
The address Lucius had mentioned was a worn and rundown building that looked like it at one point had been an inn of some sort. The sign that hung above the door was so faded that she couldn't quite make out what it said. Nevertheless, she pulled her wand from her sleeve pocket so it was in hand and made to open the dull grey door. The inside of the shop (if you could even call it that) was just as bleak as the outside had been, the only light provided by a wilting candelabra near the counter and the small sliver of daylight provided by a small window on the ceiling.
Hermione removed the hood of her cloak, releasing the notice-me-not charm and freeing her curls from the containment. Maybe it was all the dark magic energy floating around in the air of Knockturn Alley, but her hair seemed to be growing bigger with each passing moment.
A short woman with broad, stocky shoulders and a severe looking grey bun regarded her with a scowl before pointing her nose up in the air. "What can I be helping you with miss?" It was an innocent enough question, or sounded like it, but Hermione knew this was a test. Her mind whirled back to what Lucius had told her.
"I seek what cannot be sought." It was an idiotic turn of phrase to use to enter an underground potion ingredient trade, but she supposed it was not the wits of the dark wizards that they were known for.
The woman nodded her head reluctantly, rubbing her hands on her apron. It was at that point that Hermione first noticed that they had been covered in what she didn't want to acknowledge looked like blood. Wobbling slightly as she walked, the woman led Hermione to a set of stairs that led down into a basement of sorts. Unease filled her chest, but she knew that this was the only way she could get basilisk venom. Steeling her spine and standing tall, she followed the stairs down to a dimly lit cavern.
The basement had a dirt floor, and was filled with potions, jars, animals, cauldrons, just about anything that could be traded on the black market. A few venders seemed to be manning tables, one particularly nasty looking wizard with a scar running from his left eyebrow down to his lip, seemed to have a collection of dragon eggs. If Hermione had been here for any other reason, she might've plotted a way to steal the eggs, return them to their families. But she wasn't here to free dragons; she was here for basilisk venom.
It took her a moment of deep breaths and calming thoughts to ignore the likely hundreds of laws being broken in such a compacted space. Her eyes didn't know where to look until they snapped onto a familiar face. "For Merlin's sake…" She mumbled to herself under her breath. Lucius had been quite blasé about who his contact was and Hermione knew now why. She never would have come if she'd known he was the one she'd be dealing with.
Mundungus Fletcher was somehow slimier looking younger and with hair. He was a piss-poor excuse of a thief and an even worse member of the order. Hermione trusted that he owed Dumbledore his life, but the slimey little git owed her no such dedication.
She took a deep breath, pushing down her hatred and revulsion as she approached the wooden table in the corner under one of the sconces. "I'm told that you are the man to see to procure certain…rare ingredients." Mundungus' smile split his face, a toothpick between his teeth.
"Ah yes. Young master Malfoy said he'd be sending someone along for an ingredient. Didn't say it'd be such a lovely broad though. Not sure his missus would be too happy to know he keeps such beautiful company." He leaned closer to her, enough that she could smell his awful breath. Forcing a smile, Hermione muttered some empty thanks.
"Yes well, Malfoy owes me a favor. Nothing more." Hermione tried not to let her impatience show, but she hated being in this place and being so vulnerable. "Now do you have the venom?"
His smile slid slightly as he realized she was getting right down to business, but he moved his toothpick and checked his surroundings before opening his vest. There seemed to be about 15 hidden pockets cut into the orange horizontally striped lining of Fletcher's waistcoat, and Hermione wondered what other illicit or stolen materials he had hiding in there.
"Aye I got it." Mundungus leered, pulling a small vial of greenish-yellow liquid. Hermione held her hand out, reaching for it before he pulled it away. "Uh uh uh. Not so fast poppet. Where's my gold? 100 galleons."
Hermione's eyes snapped wide, glaring at the man. "Malfoy said you'd procure it for 80."
"Well that was before. Now its 100. Had to smuggle this in from the continent you know. Not so easy to do." Hermione tried desperately to not set him on fire with her mind, and only the knowledge that every person in here could likely kill her in an instant was keeping her from brandishing her wand to his throat.
"Fine you twitchy little git." Her annoyance couldn't be held back anymore and she found it incredibly lucky that she happened to have packed extra galleons to pick up some potion ingredients (not illegal ones) on her way home. Counting out the galleons in the bag, she drew the drawstring closed with an aggressive yank and tossed the suede bag down in front of him.
Always the entrepreneur, he double checked her counting before giving her a toothy grin and handing her the small vial. "Pleasure doing business with you love." Fantasizing about knocking his teeth in was not good for her health, so she simply nodded through clenched teeth and began heading towards the door.
The whole place had made her feel wrong, like the contamination of being near so much dark magic and questionable characters. She rushed past the shopkeep with a hurried goodbye and nearly ran out of the shop. Her legs carried her quickly back towards where the light from Diagon Alley poked through, and she was determined to not stop until she was back in the general population. In her haste to exit the shop, she had forgotten to pull her hood back over her head. Her first mistake.
Her heart was beating so fast that she didn't quite notice the tightness in her chest, the burn of her skin. She'd felt it before, but she couldn't place where. Shrugging it off, Hermione continued her march towards freedom. The pain came and went, increasing and decreasing as she navigated the back streets and alleyways of the darker parts of the shopping center.
She was mere steps away from reaching the corner of Diagon Alley when she was pulled from behind into a dark alleyway. Before she could scream, a silencing spell was cast over her. Desperate, she pulled out her wand to fight off her attacker.
She'd been careless, and she cursed herself as her wand was snatched from her hand. Whoever this was was nearly a foot taller than her, and all the strength in her body seemed to be doing nothing to stop him. Fear and panic filled her body and chilled her veins, rendering her helpless as her throat constricted.
Hermione was screaming, she knew that she was screaming, but no sound came out.
"I told you I'd be watching you." A menacing voice spoke. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to slow her heart and focus. Wandless magic was very draining, but it was her only option now. Suddenly the pain in her chest made sense, and she was very aware of where she'd felt it before.
"Dolohov." Hermione mouthed, cursing herself and all that is magic that she had been so foolish. He'd known at the party…somehow. He'd known that she wasn't who she said she was. It would've only been a matter of time before she'd run into him; before he'd seen through her disguise.
"I'm flattered you remember me lastachka." His breath was hot on her neck, and she tried to pull away from his hands. One curled around her neck, tightening as she fought against him. "My Lord would be most interested to speak with you, but lucky for you, I've got some fun for us first."
Terror filled Hermione's body as the familiar discomfort of air tightening just before apparition caught in her stomach. In the blink of an eye, the bleak cobblestone streets faded around her, and were replaced by an old room, empty except for a armchair with a piece of wood broken off from the back. An old fireplace took up a majority of one wall but looked as if it hadn't been lit in quite some time. One nearly burnt out candle sat on the mantle of the decrepit looking stone fixture and Hermione's eyes slowly adjusted to its dim light.
The familiar feeling of panic seized her, and Hermione fell to the ground, closing her eyes and trying to focus on her breathing. Of all places to have a panic attack, this was far from ideal.
"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." Antonin grabbed Hermione's hair, forcing her to look at him. "No time for that lastachka. I have questions, and you are going to answer them."
Hermione glared at him silently, her anger starting to outweigh her panic. When she opened her mouth to tell him off, nothing came out. He'd managed to bind her too, while she was distracted.
"Oh yes. The silencing charm. I'll get rid of that. Scream all you want, no one will hear you." There was something so deeply chilling about his smile. It was easygoing, carefree, and yet carried the cruelty of his actions. It was the same smile he'd had when he'd cursed her when she was 16.
When he did undo her charm, she didn't scream; she refused to give him the satisfaction. "Now don't look at me like that poppet." Dolohov ran his wand tip almost intimately along the curve of her chin. "This can be easy, or this can be hard. Answer the question truthfully and I will not torture you. Lie to me and…well you seem to be a smart witch, you put the pieces together."
Hermione had been tortured before, and she couldn't help but smirk smugly back at her captor. "I would rather die." Mustering all her courage, she lifted her head into his wand tip and spit in his face.
Stiffening, Antonin pulled away, conjuring a handkerchief from thin air and wiping his face with it. His long brown hair was greasy and slicked back, his dark eyes nearly burning with what Hermione determined to be a mixture of desire and rage.
"That was a mistake." Stepping back a few paces, he raised his wand, and Hermione prepared for what she knew to be coming. Occlumency could help with the pain of the cruciatus curse…but then Hermione wasn't a very strong occlumens.
As the curse hit her body, her spine curved in an unnatural way. All the air rushed from her lungs and suddenly there didn't need to be a silencing spell to stop her scream. It was like electricity was moving through her body instead of blood, locking her limbs into place.
He pulled back, and Hermione barely recovered her breath before another shot hit her body. It felt like her bones were liquifying as her body attempted to block out her pain. Maybe he was content after five minutes, because he lowered his wand. A slight sheen of sweat shined off his forehead.
The only thing Hermione had the energy to do was cry, but she wouldn't allow herself. Laying on the floor was all she could muster as he looked down at her with a frown. "I will leave you alone to think lastachka. I pray the next time we meet you may be a little more….forthcoming."
Without the power to turn her head, Hermione simply listened to his footsteps as they retreated. The bastard even took the time to loudly declare his charms trapping her in, making sure she knew there was no way out. Wandless and tortured, Hermione struggled against the ropes binding her hands together. Unable to get them undone, she rolled around, hoping her coin necklace would pop out from under her cloak.
After a few minutes of moving around, she managed to get her hand on the coin. Send help Dol… There was not enough energy left in her body for more than that, and Hermione simply had to hope that it was enough. As her mind faded to unconsciousness, she prayed; prayed that her collection of misfits could save her.