QLFC
Falmouth Falcons
Beater 2
Round: 6
Main Prompt: (character chain)
Beater 1 James x Hermione,
Beater 2 Hermione x Lucius
Optional Prompts: Teal (colour) Blanket (object)
Words: 2678
(AN: Written in British English)
(Warnings: Major character deaths)
Many thanks to the wonderful CatherineMorgenstern for her support and outstanding beta skills. Thanks, lovely.
Hermione rubbed at her eyes, trying to ease the dryness which had been bothering her for the last hour. The book propped open in front of her had proved to be useless. She'd been sure it would contain details about the curse invading her body, but so far it had offered nothing but questionable practices regarding the use of horned slugs.
Sighing, she opened her eyes to see that the green-blue haze that covered her vision had intensified. She'd suspected that it was a side effect of the curse, but she had yet to find proof of it in any of the books she'd read so far. A ball of worry formed in the pit of her stomach. Whatever Bellatrix had done to the blade that she had used to carve the despicable slur into her arm, it wasn't fading.
"Must you invade every corner of my home, Miss Granger?"
Hermione jumped and glanced over her shoulder to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway; a sardonic look clouded his features as he stared at her with narrowed eyes. The strange film over her sight made it look like his hair and skin were tinged green and his robes had morphed from black to a deep emerald.
"If you would point me in the direction of the book I'm looking for, I wouldn't need to be in your home at all. Honestly, it's not like I want to be here."
Lucius raised an impervious eyebrow. "And if no such book exists? What then? Am I to be condemned to endless years of your insufferable presence?"
Hermione smiled sweetly. "Yes."
She turned back to her reading, ignoring Malfoy's affronted huff and flipped through the book. The tightly packed script was hard to read and she had to hunch closer to decipher the untidy writing. She traced her eyes over the words until she'd figured out it was a counter spell for excessive hair growth.
"Useless!" she cried, tossing it away.
"Have a care, Miss Granger, those books are worth more than you could ever dream to earn in several of your pathetic lifetimes. I will not tell you again," Lucius drawled, in that smooth, persuasive voice that she was coming to hate.
Hermione gave him a sour look before switching her attention to her arm. The scar had begun to weep blood again and a dull ache had spread from her forearm downwards into her wrist. It was proving impossible to treat. A frown rumpled her brow. At least she thought that must be the case. The details of what had happened when Harry had appeared with Dobby in tow to rescue her were blurry to the point where she could remember very little of the aftermath.
The last thing she recalled was chaos and Harry's wide eyes before darkness enveloped her. And then she was at Malfoy Manor, searching through endless tomes for a cure to the curse that seemed to be unraveling her memory one piece at a time. And it would also explain why she could no longer use her wand. Bellatrix had crippled her magic with each letter that had been sliced into her flesh and she didn't know why or how she'd done it.
Tiredness pulled at her limbs and she leaned down until her head touched the oily desk in front of her.
"Would you kindly remove yourself from my furniture?" Lucius murmured.
Hermione ignored him and closed her eyes, knowing that the dream would start as soon as she allowed herself to drop into sleep; another side effect of the curse, no doubt. Something heavy pressed down on her, holding her immobile and incapable of doing anything but stare into that familiar sickly, washed out colour that surrounded her, trying to make sense of the darker shades of blue she could see above her.
Panic built inside, rising like a wave as she struggled to move. The weight holding her in place increased until it felt as though it would squash her. She jolted awake, finding herself covered by a thin, teal-coloured blanket. Lucius sat in his throne-like chair reading and resolutely ignoring her.
"Will you stop covering me with that thing!" Hermione muttered, pushing the blanket off and kicking it underneath the desk.
"Miss Granger, if you think for one moment that I would waste my time seeing to your comfort, then you are as delusional as you are ridiculous."
Hermione scoffed. She didn't believe him for a second. Every time she woke up, the same blanket had been draped over her. If it wasn't him covering her up while she slept, then who? They were the only two people at the Manor. She frowned as a stray thought tickled at the back of her mind.
"Do you always stare so gormlessly into space? It's dreadfully unattractive, although not unexpected from one such as yourself."
The thought faded away at Lucius' polished words. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Come now, Miss Granger, let's not pretend you don't know exactly what it is that I'm implying."
She pushed to her feet, anger making her hair crackle. "Because I'm a Mudblood, is that it?"
Lucius shook his head in mock disappointment. "Oh no. You're much worse than that, my dear." He picked bits of imaginary lint off his trousers. "You're insufferable and if that wasn't bad enough, you have terrible taste in friends and atrocious hair to boot."
Hermione huffed in disbelief, stamping down the urge to brush her palms over her wild curls in order to flatten them. "I have terrible friends?! That's rich, coming from you."
"Then where are your precious companions now, hmmm?" Lucius glanced around in apparent curiosity. "They certainly aren't here rearranging the order of my books, are they?"
A feeling of unease grew in Hermione. She couldn't recall the last time she'd seen them after their escape. She knew they must be continuing the fight against Voldemort while she looked for a cure, but then why had Lucius Malfoy given her his permission to search his library? Were they no longer enemies? Her gaze darted to Lucius. He had a calculating look in his eyes, almost like he was gauging her reaction.
Hermione pursed her lips and pushed to her feet. "I don't want to talk to you anymore."
She marched out of the library, slamming the door closed behind her with a resounding thud. Her first instinct was to go to her room, but she found herself wandering in the opposite direction and towards the day room. It meant passing the drawing room and its endless supply of memories that sought to burrow beneath her skin as surely as Bellatrix's curse was doing.
Her footsteps echoed on the wooden floor; something Hermione had found odd when she'd first started to wander the Manor's vast rooms. Fear crept up on her the nearer she got to the drawing room. Her heart thudded at twice its usual speed and the muscles bracketing her spine tensed until she began to shake. She spotted the double doors - closed and fastened with a thick chain - and quickly averted her eyes. Her vision began to blur and darken.
She increased her pace until she was practically running through the Manor. At last, she reached the day room; a large square area with rectangular windows scattered across one wall and several velvet loveseats arranged in a way that invited lounging. The openness and view of the grounds calmed her erratic heartbeat. Hermione sat on the closest seat and leaned back, exhausted from her mad dash. Her vision returned to normal and she could finally relax without Lucius' odious presence hovering around her.
She turned her head to stare out of the window, taking in the darkening clouds and trees swaying in the distance. There was a storm approaching, but it still felt far away and of little concern to her. Hermione shifted her attention to her arm, watching idly as a droplet of blood slid down to her wrist before dripping onto the immaculate rug spread beneath her seat. She felt heavy again - almost as if a weighted blanket covered her from head to toe - and sighed, allowing the sensation to sink through her.
Sleep crept up on her again, pulling her under and into another dream which was happening more often lately. Another side effect from the curse? She tucked the question aside and allowed herself to drift. This time it was Harry she saw. He'd just appeared in the drawing room, Dobby beside him, their eyes wide as they looked around. Bellatrix had Hermione's hair in a tight grip and she could only move her head a little bit to see what was happening. Her eyes met Harry's horrified gaze as he reached towards her. There was an explosion of light and then darkness.
Hermione woke with a gasp, Bellatrix's cackle ringing in her ears. The damnable teal blanket covered her again and she fought her way free of its stifling confines. A sound made her pause in her efforts. She whipped her head towards the windows, listening intently. Voices, low and indistinct, came from outside.
Was someone breaking in? Death Eaters? But it couldn't be, whoever was outside was trying to break through the wards guarding the windows. She could see their shadowy outlines moving back and forth as they searched for a way to navigate the Manor's wards.
Hermione held her breath and pushed to her feet, yanking the blanket off and tossing it onto the ground. She backed up, eyes fixed on the window, as she tiptoed out of the room. The moment she was clear of the door, she spun around and rushed to the library, hoping Lucius was still there and not hidden in one of the numerous rooms the Manor contained.
She opened the door with a little too much force and it crashed into the wall.
"Do you mind?" Lucius hissed. "This house has been in my family for generations and I will not have you destroy -"
"Someone's trying to break in," Hermione interrupted, closing the door with another thud.
Lucius tilted his head. "Who?"
"I don't know! They're trying to break through the wards."
"Hmmm."
"Hmmm? That's all you have to say?" she gestured to the door. "Do something!"
"And what do you suggest I do?" Lucius asked, placing his book onto a side table and spearing her with his icy eyes.
"Get them to stop," Hermione whispered, with a growing sense of panic that she couldn't explain.
Lucius frowned at her fidgeting hands, his lips twisted in disapproval. "Perhaps it's time," he murmured.
"Time for what?" Hermione asked.
Lucius walked past her, ignoring her question and opening the door. "Come," he said, as if she were a dog and he was her master.
A huff of outrage built in her chest, but before it could explode out of her, a sound like the air escaping from a balloon erupted. The Manor shuddered before settling into its usual creaks and groans.
They'd broken through the wards.
"Quickly!" Hermione gasped.
"Is that an order, Miss Granger?" Lucius curled his lip into a sneer. "I advise you to remember who it is that you are speaking to."
She didn't get the chance to respond as the older wizard had spun on his heel and begun to walk away. Hermione rushed after him, slowing only when she was close enough to feel his robe brush over the front of her body.
"Scared, my dear?" Lucius mocked.
"Only of being hit by a curse or spell," Hermione grasped the soft fabric of his cloak, "which is why I'm using you as a shield."
Lucius stopped walking, causing Hermione to collide with his back. "What did you say?" he hissed.
"You're a bigger target." She gestured vaguely to chest. "And you're you."
"I do not like your tone or your implication." He reached up to tear his robe out of her hand. "Nor do I want your grubby hands touching my clothes."
Hermione refused to let go. "If -"
A massive boom shook the ground beneath her feet. She stared at Lucius with wide eyes. "What was that?"
"I would guess that my drawing room is now in need of new doors."
The drawing room.
Hermione shuddered. She did not want to go there, not if it meant remembering those endless hours of torment at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Her foot moved back, but before she could retreat entirely, Lucius grasped her wrist in a tight grip.
"You wouldn't leave me to face our adversaries alone, would you? How disappointing." He tugged her until she fell into step beside him. "Courage, my dear, isn't that what you Gryffindors are known for?"
His smooth tone soothed her, even if he did intend it to be an insult. He had also reminded her of who she was: Hermione Jean Granger, Gryffindor, best friends with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, the brightest witch of…
The doors lay in shreds outside the drawing room. Bits of wood and twisted metal peppered the floor and the force of the blast had caused several pieces to become embedded in the wall and ceiling. An anguished cry floated from the room. Hermione felt her skin tighten and a flush of heat roll up from her toes into her legs, arms and torso, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.
She knew that voice.
Lucius pressed a hand to the small of her back and pushed, forcing her to walk forwards. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to see. But Lucius continued to press her towards the ballroom until she stood in the mangled doorway.
Harry was in the centre of the room, hunched over a misshapen object draped in a faded, teal-coloured blanket. Ron sat beside him, rocking back and forth, his fist pressed to his mouth as if it could stop any sound from escaping. Remus stood to the side, tears running down his cheeks like little rivulets.
"Harry?" Hermione whispered.
They ignored her.
Dread pooled in her stomach and she glanced back at Lucius who watched her with an inscrutable expression. She stepped into the room.
"Harry," she called again, louder.
None of them responded.
It was then that she saw a knotty tangle of brown hair peeking out from beneath the blanket. Time seemed to slow down.
"No. No. No!" Ron screamed. "It's not her!" He reached across Harry to tug the blanket away from the lump in front of them.
As soon as he did it, the blue-green haze vanished from Hermione's sight. She stumbled back, shaking her head, staring at the dried up body now on display.
Her body.
Ron bellowed, his cry of anguish echoing around the vast room. Hermione pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block out the sound of his grief. And when that didn't work, she ran from the room in disbelief, sprinting to the furthest corner of the Manor. Her memories ran into each other, colliding and meshing until she couldn't think beyond the kaleidoscope of images bombarding her brain.
A booted foot slipped into her line of vision. Lucius. She moved her gaze upwards, over his black robes and silver hair, pausing at his cool grey eyes.
"I do hope you don't expect your distasteful display of dramatics to elicit any sympathy from me," Lucius drawled.
Hermione glared at him, but it held no real anger. "I'm dead," she said in a flat voice that she didn't recognise as her own.
"Indeed."
"Bellatrix killed me before Harry could rescue me," she whispered, remembering the darkness taking her just after Harry's arrival.
"Hmmm. And a great deal of satisfaction she gained from it as well."
"And you?" Hermione met his icy stare. "Are you dead too?"
Lucius adjusted the sleeves of his cuffs and gave her a wry smile. "The Dark Lord was most displeased that I allowed the Potter boy to escape."
"I bet," Hermione muttered. "Then we're trapped here together?"
"So it would seem."
"Forever?" Hermione asked with a frown.
"Forever."
Thanks for reading, guys. Take care and i'll see you next time.