Yikes it's been a while on this one. Sorry about that.
Disclaimer: JK owns HP
A Wedding and a Funeral
Chapter 11
"What in the actual fuck.' I think to myself as I see him sitting on the bed not five feet from me.
I feel my eyebrows raise as high as they can go on my forehead, and I tighten my grip on my wand further. I shouldn't have been so surprised that he is actually here, but I can't help it. I must be spending too much time around Hermione because my once perfected emotionless mask has failed me more than once this week.
Charlie sits up further, his eyebrows wrinkling at my sudden appearance in his home. At first glance one of his arms is raised up next to his head, while the other rests on the bed next to him. He has one leg curled under the other outstretched one, and I'm happy to see that he is looking pretty rough.
Good. He deserves it.
And speaking of deserving it; I am just trying to decide between a crucio, or a stickfast hex so I can beat him with my bare hands when I notice something else odd. The wrist that is next to his head has something thick and metal attached to it. Interesting.
It takes me a second to realize that it is actually a pair of restrictive cuffs; ones that look more like they were meant for some kind of animal rather than a person, but they successfully have him chained to the bed nonetheless. Looks like that stickfast hex won't be necessary after all.
I'm guessing that the keys I found in the hallway belong to the set, and I can't help but grin maliciously at the thought of having him alone and unarmed in my presence; as I am also pretty sure that the wand I found belongs to him as well.
As soon as he sees me the look on his face seems to go from forlorn to angry almost instantly. Something isn't right here, and I find my mouth opening to ask him a question instead of cursing him where he sits.
"Why the hell are you shackled to the bed?" My eyebrows lower, and crinkle in confusion; though my wand is still pointed directly at his chest.
He huffs in annoyance as he adjusts his position on the bed. "Moment of weakness."
He jerks his arm forward; causing another loud clank to echo around the room. It is obvious he has been trying to free himself from the confines of the chains, but so far he hasn't had any luck. For several seconds I don't know what to say. I feel like there is a puzzle laid out in front of me, but I don't yet have all the pieces.
After another couple of tugs he gives up. His arms might be muscular, but no amount of human strength is going to bust through those magical shackles and he knows it. Too bad for him I have no intention of handing over the very keys that would grant his freedom. Instead I decide to stay silent and let him ask the next question; mimicking my father's interrogation tactics again.
"Based on your presence in my home I'm going to assume that you know where my lovely wife is?" He finally breaks the silence after a rather nasty stare down between the two of us. "She went missing on me Wednesday, and I'm going to take a wager that you're the one she ran off with."
I don't know how to answer his question without revealing that I in fact do know where she is, so I stay silent in hopes that he will keep feeding me more information. The only way to figure out the mystery at hand is if I have all the clues first.
"Come to think of it." He taps his chin with his free hand. "I don't remember seeing you in the office when I came to find her either."
Of course he didn't see me, I had to fit a week's worth of both Hermione's and my own meetings into two days; I was in conference rooms ninety percent of the time I was there. To be honest, I didn't even know he'd actually stopped by. The only person who would have known was likely Hannah, and she would never have told me such things even if I had asked.
Before I can even answer him with some lame excuse he seems to snap. The clanking resumes full force as he tries to rip himself free of the cuffs. He extends his body as far forward as he can go, with his free arm outstretched toward me.
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" He yells at me as he struggles violently to get at me. "I'll strangle that bitch too when I get my hands on her!"
Hearing him threaten Hermione like that pushes my very last button. The stupefy that I shoot directly into his chest surprises me almost as much as it does him. I'm somewhat relieved that I didn't accidentally let loose an avada kedavra, but also disappointed that it wasn't something a bit more vile than a stunning spell.
Charlie, on the other hand, doesn't have long to contemplate his fate before the force of it sends him hurtling backwards; the back of his head hitting the wrought iron headboard with another loud crash. It seems he has been knocked unconscious, but I'm not sure if it was from my spell, or from his head hitting metal with that amount of force behind it.
My thoughts are moving a mile a minute as I stare at his limp form. Though I was already questioning the sanity of someone who could physically abuse someone as wonderful as Hermione Granger, those were not the actions of a rational man. The unbridled rage I felt coming off of him seemed intense, and unnatural. I can't help but wonder if he has been acting on his own sick and twisted desires, or if he is actually being imperioused or controlled by someone else.
It would make sense now that I think about it. I know Hermione is still considered a war hero, so I could easily see her being targeted. Honestly any closeted death eater or sympathizer could have orchestrated something like this; a way to have her killed at the hands of her own husband.
With those thoughts now in mind, I approach the bed and give his side a firm prod with the tip of my wand. Since I am within reaching distance, I want to make sure he really is knocked out cold.
He is.
I also give him a once over to make sure that he isn't bleeding out from his head. I know he hit it pretty hard against the bed, and although I'm not opposed to the idea of him dying, I know Hermione would hate me all over again if she ever found out that I was the one who killed him; guilty or not.
With my free hand, I reach out and turn his head to the side to make sure the injury wasn't lethal. There is a bump, but it doesn't look to be bleeding and the swelling isn't bad enough to be considered dangerous. However, the blood veins in his neck are protruding and purple, and that has me confused all over again.
None too gently, as I really don't care about his comfort, I pry the eyelid of his right eye open and check for any visible sign of the imperious curse. If it was done properly there wouldn't be much to see, but the hazy blank stare of a mediocre cast would be easy to spot from this close of a range.
Not to my surprise, I don't see any fogginess to his pupils, but what is peculiar is the extremely dark red coloration of the inside of his eyelids. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot and the tear duct is almost purple. Red lines have webbed themselves so similar to someone with extreme allergies that I can't help but think that he's been drugged with a dark potion rather than hit with the imperious curse.
I'm now starting to wonder if, by a 'moment of weakness', Charlie actually meant that he'd had a moment of clarity. If he knew he didn't have much time before losing control of his sanity again, then he probably would have taken the opportunity to handcuff himself to the bed before throwing the keys and his wand out of reach.
I can only imagine what I would do if I were in the same situation. If someone cursed me to hurt Hermione and I had only a moment to stop myself, I'd do anything to make sure I couldn't get to her again.
Fuck. That means Charlie is innocent and really does love her, doesn't it?
With a huff, I dig the keys out of my pocket and unlock the cuff attached to the headboard; leaving the one on his wrist securely in place. I grab a hold of the chain tightly in my left hand, and point my wand outward with the other. Before I can even begin to come up with a better plan I disapparate the both of us away to the second safest place I can think of.
Looks like I'm doing something brave again. Damn that bloody witch and her influence on me.
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(Hermione's POV)
I tip my head back and laugh at something offensive Narcissa has just said about Chairman Harold. So far this afternoon with her has lifted my spirits greatly. In fact, I almost can't believe how much I needed this, or how great of a distraction she's given me from my argument with Ginny this morning.
My tumbler is on the table in front of me, only half full. It's some fancy concoction of highball that tastes of lemon and ginger. I can't help but wonder how expensive the ingredients are for the alcohol to go down this smoothly.
Before Narcissa can retell another funny story about my boss, one of the house elves interrupts us timidly to announce that Harry is requesting admittance to Malfoy Manor; he is waiting at the gate. I glance to the window, realizing that the sun has already gone down. I'm surprised by how much time has passed since the two of us cooped ourselves up in Lucius's cigar room this afternoon.
When asked, I agree to see him, as I know he likely has news about Charlie for me. I feel myself sober up instantly at the very thought of my husband even though I've been drinking all day. Knowing I'll probably need it, I throw back the rest of my drink just as Harry enters the room.
Before he can begin to recount his day, Narcissa politely excuses herself to the ladies room so that we can talk in private; though I'm pretty sure she intends to listen in from the hallway. I find myself not caring enough to cast a muffliato, as the whole wizarding world will eventually find out about my tragic marriage anyway.
"Did you find him?" I ask before the door even shuts.
"No." Harry shakes his head. He looks worried. "Apparently he hasn't shown up for work since Wednesday."
"What about at our house?" I ask, knowing that he likely already checked there too.
Harry adjusts his glasses as he releases a sigh. "The place is a bit smashed up, but no. He wasn't there either." He pauses for a minute as he looks me over. "How are you doing?"
"How am I doing in general?" I ask clerically, knowing the question he actually wants the answer to. "Or how am I fairing inside Malfoy Manor?"
He hangs his head slightly. I know him almost too well. "Both."
"Well Narcissa seems to be treating me like a daughter she never had." I reply as I think fondly of her treatment of me the past few days. "And Malfoy has actually been accommodating, helpful, and civil to me. I'd ask you to double check that it's really him, only he is also still very much an argumentative arsehole with an oversized ego."
"I mean that's really all we ever could have hoped for from him." Harry commented. "Just so long as he's dropped all that pureblood bullshit."
"We actually had a very informative chat about that just last night." I tell him, causing him to make a disapproving face and adjust his glasses a second time. "One that ended with him apologizing to me for all of the antagonizing and hateful things he did while we were at Hogwarts."
"He did?" Harry looks both surprised and slightly off put by my revelation.
"Well to me anyway, you and Ron not so much."
Harry snorts. "No surprise there. Though, since we are on the subject of Malfoy…"
"Yes?" I tilt my head with a little nod to urge him to continue.
"Well I stopped by your office today, to first off ask Hannah if Charlie had been by looking for you the past two days, and second to ask Malfoy a few more questions."
"Okay."
"Well, she said that yes, Charlie was there on Thursday afternoon. It seemed he had merely forgotten that you had stayed home sick that day." He explains. "To me that was another clue that he is up to something."
Internally I breathe a sigh of relief. It's good to have my best friend back on my side. "So you do believe me?"
"I never said I didn't." He defended himself. "But I still feel like something is off with this Hermione, and to be honest, I can't help but be suspicious that Malfoy is somehow involved."
Oh gods, not this again. I know he has a certain soft spot and understanding for Narcissa since she lied to Voldemort for him during the war, but that is a sentiment that has never been extended to Draco. Merlin, can he never let these old grudges go and just believe me when I say he had nothing to do with this.
"Harry." I scold him firmly as I hold my left hand up in front of his face; pointing to the fourth finger on it. "Do you see a cursed ring on my finger?"
He looks annoyed; as if he knows I'm going to drag my explanation of why he is wrong out. "No." He sighs.
"Mhm." I twist my hand around back and forth so he can see it from all sides, and point more towards the knuckle. "And do you see this small faded line right here?"
"Yes." He seems bored for a second before he realizes that it's a new scar, and suddenly he is grabbing my hand to get a closer look at it. "Wait, I don't remember you having that before...when did you get that?"
"Yeah, you see this is a new finger. I had to have it regrown two days ago, after Malfoy cut off the old one in order to save me from the dark curse Charlie put on my ring on our wedding night." I reveal, not bothering to hide the bitchy tone my explanation is laced with. "It's actually still attached to the old finger upstairs if you'd like to see it."
Harry is starting to look a bit green, and now I'm starting to feel a little bad about the bitchiness of it. His jaw drops slightly as he processes what I have just told him, before he closes it several seconds later. "Malfoy cut off your finger?"
"Yes." I reiterate. "It was apparently the only way to free me of the curse."
"That's disgusting." He makes a face. "I mean if he figured out you were in danger why didn't he just come to me instead of bringing you here?"
Although he makes a good point, I really don't want to hear it right now. For once in his life Draco Malfoy actually did something good and I refuse to let Harry make him out to be the bad guy again.
"Probably because it's you." I remind him of how volatile they have always been to each other. "Look, I already asked him about how he knew which spell had been used, and it really comes down to trying to protect his family during the war." I continue to try and defend him. "He said that they have lots of books on dark magic here in their library which he took to studying in case there was something useful. You know as well as I do that they were being terrorized by Voldemort in their own home. Anyway, he claimed to remember reading about the curse from inside one of them."
"Look, Hermione. I know you have been going through something awful the past few weeks, and I really haven't been there for you." He looks gloomy at the idea and I feel myself soften towards him again. "I'm so sorry Hermione. You're one of my best friends and I should have noticed sooner."
I want to reassure him that it's okay, but I don't really know how. Without much of a pause he speaks up again before I can come up with anything notable.
"And while Malfoy knowing what the curse was, and how to get rid of it is suspicious all on it's own, it doesn't even come close to what I have to tell you next."
My eyes meet his as I prepare myself for what he has to say. I know from the look he's giving me that it's going to be bad. We've had way too many good and bad moments over the years to not be able to read his mood. "What? What is it?"
"Well, when I asked to see Malfoy, Hannah said that he'd already left; claiming he needed to get home early today." He explained.
"Well, yes." I remember the promise he made me after my meltdown this morning. "He promised to stop by my house to pick up Crookshanks and a few of my things. He probably just left early to grab them."
"Hermione, Malfoy left before two o'clock this afternoon." Harry informed her. "It's just past six now."
I turn to the clock above the fireplace and notice that he is right. Surely Draco wouldn't have taken this long to bring Crookshanks to me, right?
"I didn't make it to your and Charlie's place until almost three." He continued. "Which means that if Draco went straight there from work, and hasn't been seen since, that he could have run into Charlie."
My eyes widen and I feel a lump form in my chest. If ever I have had a feeling of dread, this is it. I can't believe how scared I am of the idea that they might have hurt one another.
"Was there any sign of them?" I ask, not bothering to hide my unease.
"That's actually the main reason I came here to talk to you." He places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "As I said earlier the place was smashed up a bit, but no one was home, so I went to The Burrow to see if Molly had seen him."
"So she knows too now?" I ask with a cringe; knowing how difficult she must have taken the news.
"That's what I have been trying to tell you." Harry seems to get flustered, as he is now talking with his hands. "I didn't have to. She already knew something was wrong."
I can't even begin to theorize what he means by that and I feel my eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. "What do you mean she already knew?"
"Well... just before your wedding she took that family clock of hers in to have you, James, and Victorie added. She felt that it was the perfect time to get it updated."
At the mention of that clock, I immediately know where he is going with this, and the lump in my throat plummets into my chest. Please don't tell me what I think you are about to say.
"The old wizard who usually works on it has been owling her the past two weeks to tell her he was having problems with it and that it was going to take longer than expected." He pauses with a cringe as he rubs his fingers over his scar out of habit whenever something seems to be amiss. "Anyway, she finally got it back this afternoon."
"Harry." I feel my eyes water as I urge him to get to the point he is obviously avoiding. "What did it say?"
He bites his lip in pause before finally delivering the news. "Charlie's hand is pointing to Mortal Peril."
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I can't go home to the manor yet. With Charlie now missing Potter will quickly follow the clues to me, and look for him there first. I know if I give him any reason at all he will pin this whole thing on me without a second thought. Based on our record of hostility for one another I can't really blame him, but I refuse to give him the opportunity. Instead I am apparating to the second most secure private dungeon I can think of: The Nott Estate.
The crack our sound of apparition makes is almost as loud as the crash that follows it. In my haste to leave Hermione's house it seems I've forgotten all about the height difference between their bed and the floor. As I only had a hold of him by the chain of his cuffs, without the mattress underneath him he has fallen the rest of the way to the ground.
If I'm not careful I'm going to give this poor bastard a concussion.
Oh well.
The sound of footsteps approaching gains my attention, and I make sure my wand is at the ready just in case. Luckily it is only Theo, followed quickly by my old friend Gregory Goyle. I almost forgot that he was still living here.
After the war, Greg was sentenced to a six month stint in Azkaban along with most of the other young Death Eaters who couldn't buy or bargain their way out of it. Both his father and Theo's earned life sentences for their crimes, but the ministry thought that the children of You-Know-Who's followers deserved a second chance at least.
Anyway, while the Goyles lost what little assets they had in the fallout, the Nott's still had an enormous estate left and Gringotts vaults to match. As they were both alone now, Theo had kindly taken Greg in and given him a job. With no job prospects, and little to no skills it was honestly a mercy.
I would have done it myself, but after Vincent's death our friendship suffered. It seemed that we would always be haunted by his last moments; leaving an uncomfortable air around us whenever we would converse.
"What the hell!" Theo exclaims once he is in sight. "Draco?"
They are both looking at me with mixed expressions.
"I need to use your dungeon." I request, not knowing how long Charlie will be knocked out for, and not wanting to find out until he is in a secure place.
Theo takes a step closer to look my prisoner over. It does not look like he likes what he sees. "No absolutely not." He says shaking his hands out in front of him. "I do not want to get involved. We will take no part in whatever this is."
Too bad for him. He doesn't really have a choice. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure he is under the effects of a focused rage potion." I inform him. "Personally, I'd rather not have it confirmed when he wakes up here in your foyer and starts taking swings at us."
"Oh." Theo cringes. "Shit!"
Greg on the other hand is looking Charlie over again; using the toe of his boot to move his face back and forth. Wow, we really aren't being gentle with him are we? Poor bastard.
"Is that a Weasley?" He asks. Not even Gregory Goyle is dense enough to not recognize the particular shade of red hair. "Bloody hell, why didn't you just take him to Potter? Or your own dungeons for that matter?"
"Oh right?" I ask sarcastically. "I'm just going to pass him off to his brother-in-law, who still hates me by the way, and calmly explain that he's been poisoned with a dark potion. One that my family just so happens to be in possession of one in only five recipes still in existence."
Theo sighs, understanding that he doesn't really have a choice but to help me. Looks like we are getting the Slytherins back together.
"I wouldn't have come here if I didn't absolutely have to." I say in as pleading of a manner as a Malfoy could ever possess. "So unless you want him to wake up in full on rage mode and take up destroying your house, I'm going to ask you to help me get him locked up in the dungeons now. I'll explain everything after."
Theo cringes and tilts his head backwards; his nose pointing to the ceiling. When he groans, I know he is going to agree, but he also doesn't like it.
"Fine." He says. "But if we get caught, you better tell Potter that this was all you. Greg and I are just innocent bystanders."
"Yeah, yeah." I agree. "Now why don't you make yourselves useful and each grab a leg."
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So Charlie is probably innocent, but don't worry. This is still a dramione.