"Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors."
-Proverb
It had been two weeks since Hermione had first arrived at Muron Castle.
About twenty seconds after she had sent her Patronus to Harry on the day that Snape left; he dispatched an immediate reply.
As Hermione was turning to head down to the dungeon, the great silver stag burst into the castle, shaking it's massive head, and speaking with Harry's distraught voice.
"Hermione! Where are you? This isn't funny. We're supposed to be doing this TOGETHER. Please, I'm worried about you. What happened? Where are you?"
And that was the end of the message.
The stag lingered momentarily before it dematerialized into nothing more than a faint, vaporous haze.
Hermione brandished her wand once more, conjured her own Patronus, and spoke to the otter.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione spoke clearly, "I can't. Please trust me. I'll contact you when I can. And remember - tell Mooney."
Within seconds, the otter had vanished.
Harry did not send a reply.
She knew that he had to be furious.
Actually, 'furious' was probably too kind a word.
Murderous is more like it.
And she couldn't blame him. If the tables had been turned, and it was she left with nothing to go on but a vague message from Harry's Patronus, she would be irate - to say the very least.
Hermione sighed as she walked through the archway. She hated being so short with him, but Snape - despite being a complete prat, was right. The less Harry knew, the better.
It bothered her that she had forgotten about the connection between Voldemort and Harry.
Surprisingly, what bothered her even more was why Voldemort had not chosen to exploit that connection for so long.
Harry hasn't seen any visions since our fifth year. It's literally been years.
And then, feeling slightly foolish, Hermione remembered that it was, in fact, a two way connection.
With a shudder of dread, she realized that whatever Voldemort had been up to for the past several years was obviously something he didn't want Harry to know about.
And somehow not knowing is much more frightening.
She only prayed that Voldemort wouldn't access Harry's mind anytime in the near future.
Four Horcruxes destroyed. Can't imagine he'll be too happy about that.
And then, as she approached the spiral staircase that plunged down into the dark bowels of the castle; she had a startling realization.
If Voldemort ever found out that any his Horcruxes were destroyed, who knows how he would react...would he feel the urgency to create more?
And then, God help us, we would be in this never ending cycle of hell with no hope of escape.
Resting her hand on the cool stone banister, she thought again of Harry.
Please let him tell Lupin.
With herself now gone, Hermione was more certain than ever that Harry would need to confide in Lupin. As leader of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as an extremely proficient wizard at Defense Against the Dark Arts, she knew that Lupin would be an invaluable asset and that he would keep Harry from doing anything too impulsive.
Though, I've been the impulsive one as of late.
With Harry still on her mind, she descended down the coiled stairs.
The dungeon was small - practically microscopic when compared to Hogwarts'. But with it's two quaint rooms full of potions ingredients and supplies - courtesy of some sneaky pillaging by Snape, it was all the space that the two really needed to complete their task.
Hermione and Malfoy had immediately begun to brew the Polyjuice Potion, just as Snape had instructed.
Though a complicated potion, Hermione had managed to brew it - as Snape had been so kind to remind her, quite successfully in her second year. More than anything, the potion required constant attention.
And so in the weeks that followed, Hermione either found herself stooped over a large cauldron, stirring and adding various ingredients, or on the nearby stone floor with a dozen or so books laying haphazardly around her while Malfoy attended to the potion.
On one such day, Hermione, laying prone on the floor, held up a rather ragged and ancient looking text and motioned with her hand at Malfoy.
"Are you sure that these are all the texts that we need from your library?" she asked, as she propped herself up on her elbow, laying down the massive book in front of her.
"Granger, for the hundredth time, yes, I am sure. And get off the floor, would you? It's driving me mad, " Malfoy replied, irritatedly. He walked over to the nearby bench, grabbed a vile, and emptied it into the cauldron.
"Well," Hermione said, ignoring his request, "If the library is as big as you said, I'm sure that there's something else that we could look into-"
"Granger, stop being so idiotic!" Malfoy yelled, cutting her off, "Do you or do you not recall the Death Eaters that were barging through the front door as we were trying to get out of there with our lives? Returning would be suicide. We have no idea if the place has been booby trapped since we were there. It's not safe," he added with a note of finality.
"Maybe not for you, but you aren't allowed to go anyways, are you? Snape specifically said that-"
"I know what Snape said!" Malfoy spat.
Hermione glared at him in silence for a long moment.
"Which is the reason," he continued, his voice slightly calmer, "why you are not going. You'd end up getting captured, and then I'd have to come and rescue you and our entire mission would be exposed!"
"Captured?" Hermione challenged, "What makes you think I'd be captured? And even if I was; I certainly don't need you rescuing me," she spat.
"Oh, of course. That's why Potter exists, is it not?"
Hermione scowled and returned to her book.
Malfoy allowed himself a triumphant smirk before he returned his attention to the potion.
Soon after her arrival to Muron Castle, Malfoy had informed Hermione that he had taken what he believed to be the most important texts about the Dark Arts from the Malfoy Private Library.
With the help of Snape, they had removed the texts several months prior, in hopes that they might discover any additional information on Horcruxes. He and Snape had brought about sixty tomes to the castle, but it was becoming increasingly apparent to Malfoy, that Hermione was thoroughly engraged that the entire library hadn't been emptied.
"If there are more texts on the Dark Arts in that library, then we really should consider-" Hermione pressed on, clearly not willing to drop the subject.
"Granger! It's only been a few weeks! What is so difficult to understand? We haven't even gone through a quarter of the books that we have here! Just give it a break!" Malfoy shouted as he cut her off again.
Hermione pushed herself into a sitting position on the floor and grabbed angrily for her book.
She knew that it was foolish to try to return to the manor with the possibility of any number of Death Eaters waiting for them, but the thought of all those books just laying in the dust-waiting to be discovered...
That, and she couldn't help but provoke Malfoy.
After all, there were six years of yelling, cursing, and hexing one another that were working against her. Plus, the look on Malfoy's face every time she brought up that he couldn't leave the castle.
Priceless.
A picture truly is worth a thousand words.
Hermione had only read through about five of Malfoy's texts thoroughly. They were surprisingly difficult, and she welcomed the new challenge with eager anticipation. But a few of the passages she discovered on specific torture methods were incredibly disturbing and she was hesitant to continue any further.
"What did you expect, Granger? They are books on the Dark Arts! They aren't going to instruct you on how best to train your Pigmy Puff," Malfoy laughed when she had told him about the insert.
"It's incredibly revolting," Hermione said, disgustedly.
Malfoy merely shrugged, "Those are Death Eaters for you. Can you now see why I wasn't running like mad to join them?"
Hermione eyed him skeptical before returning to the text.
And in only two weeks time, Hermione learned a few things about Malfoy that she found incredibly perplexing.
Firstly, that it was usually she, and not Malfoy that started the majority of their arguments.
When did I become so bitter and unforgiving?
He's at least trying to be civil. Why am I always provoking him?
And secondly, and perhaps even more disturbing than her first revelation, was that Malfoy was undeniable intelligent.
Sweet Merlin.
How did I not notice? Has he always been this clever?
But then again, how could I have ever known? The only words that came out of his mouth when we were at school were, 'filthy little mudblood'.
But there was no mistaking it. Malfoy was intelligent.
On several occasions, Malfoy had been working on something for the Polyjuice Potion and Hermione had stepped in to instruct him.
"Make sure that you do a counterclockwise stir, on every third stir."
Or,
"If you cut the root away from you it will exude maxium potency."
But before the words could even come out of her mouth, Malfoy would cut her off.
"Yes, Granger. I know," he would say.
At first, it seemed to amuse him.
"Honestly, Granger. Did you think that Snape gave me all those house points in Potions just for the hell of it?" Malfoy laughed, incredulously.
She was about to point out that Snape was the very definition of being biased when it came to Slytherins and Gryffindors, but held her tongue.
Instead, she shrugged.
After awhile, Hermione's near interruptions just seemed to annoy him.
"Granger. I'm not an idiot. Give me some room to breath or you're going to ruin the whole potion," he would snap.
And Hermione would eventually relent, and return to her cheerful book about various methods of torture.
Let's see...what chapter was I on? Oh yes, "Using the least amount of effort with maximum results: The Cruciatus Curse and it's multifaceted techniques."
Out of habit, Hermione couldn't help but look up every few minutes to make sure that Malfoy was brewing the potion correctly. So accustomed as she was to doing practically everything for Harry and Ron in school, that to sit back and let someone else do the work was an odd adjustment.
And the fact that he was actually capable was an even stranger concept.
He wasn't joking. He really would have been Head Boy.
As if sensing her musing, he had said with a slight grin, "Just relax and read, Granger. I've got everything under control. No doubt it's quite a strange sensation to you - letting someone else that is competent do the work. You were always helping Potter at every turn."
And Hermione would roll her eyes.
Malfoy was always careful never to bring Ron up. She wasn't quite sure what was holding him back - he never failed to miss an insult at Ron in the past.
Respect for the dead, maybe?
Or the fact that I would hex him so badly that these torture books would look like child's play?
Regardless of the reason; Hermione was grateful.
Ron was always dreadful at potions.
One particularly stormy afternoon - when is it ever not stormy here?, Hermione found herself reading yet another text about various Dark Art methods while Malfoy was working busily with the Polyjuice Potion.
Stretching slowly, she marked her spot in the book, and set it down, gently.
"Find anything useful?" Malfoy asked, as he adjusted the temperature of the cauldron.
"Not unless you count the seven different ways to successfully decapitate someone," Hermione replied, ruefully.
Malfoy chuckled quietly.
"And I thought I had read everything there was to know about decapitation," she said as she stood, "Clearly, I've been misinformed."
"Well, Granger," Malfoy teased, "I'm not sure I've ever heard you admit you were wrong about anything. I think congratulations are in order."
"Yes, thank you. I do try," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes as she headed for the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked, as he looked up from the simmering cauldron.
"To get some proper food," she sighed, rubbing her stomach, "I'm starved. I can't live off celery and Saltine Crackers anymore, Malfoy. Where did you say that town was?"
"You're not going by yourself," Malfoy warned, as he strode over to where Hermione was standing.
"Well, seeing how you're not supposed to be going anywhere, I daresay that I will be going by myself," she said defiantly, as she took a step closer to him.
"Granger..." Malfoy warned.
"What? It's the middle of the afternoon, what could possibly happen? I haven't had a decent meal since I've been here, Malfoy! And if you don't tell me where that town is, I'll find it myself," she said, defiantly.
Malfoy was silent a moment before he spoke.
"Fine," he relented quietly, "Let me just get you some money."
Hermione looked up at him in surprise. She had been preparing for a much longer argument.
Maybe he's more mature than I give him credit for.
Or, maybe I'm more immature than I'm willing to admit.
They climbed the spiral stairs in silence, and Malfoy quickly disappeared to the west side of the castle - presumable to his quarters to snatch the money.
He had refused to tell Hermione where his room was - only heaven knew why. And despite her best efforts, she had never been able to find the damn place.
"Why won't you just tell me where it is?"
Curiosity always did get the best of her.
"What are you trying to hide? A pink stuffed owl, perhaps?" Hermione had asked him when he refused to tell her.
"Why are you so curious to know, Granger?" He shot back, with agitation in his voice, "Hoping to walk by and catch me without a robe?" he added with a smirk.
Hermione had not mentioned it once since that moment, curiosity or not.
She was pulling her cloak on when he returned down the west staircase.
"Here," Malfoy said, as he reached out to hand her the money.
He seemed slightly hesitant.
"Muggle money?" Hermione questioned, as she looked down at the coins.
"It's a muggle town," Malfoy replied.
"Oh," she said, feeling slightly foolish.
Of course it would be a muggle town. Malfoy wouldn't be able to go anywhere remotely close to wizarding societies.
"Thanks," she replied, taking the coins from him, "Anything you'd like, in particular?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment before he questioned, "Fire whiskey?"
"Bloody typical," she scoffed as she walked to the massive front doors, clearly annoyed, "That's just what we need - you in a drunken state while we're trying to do research."
"Granger, wait!" he called as he ran after her. He gently caught her arm before she reached the doors, and Hermione shot a strange look at him.
That's the first time he's touched me since he literally dragged me into this place.
Which is, completely irrelevant, of course.
"What?" she spat.
He seemed to be struggling how best to articulate whatever it was that he was trying to say.
"Just...be careful, ok?" He said, quietly while looking at his feet.
That certainly wasn't in the cards.
Hermione regarded him silently for a moment before she spoke.
"Malfoy," she finally said, "I'll be fine. As hard as it may be for you to comprehend, I really can take care of myself."
He was beginning to argue before she cut him off, "But, thank you."
And he stared at her as though he were taking in every minute detail of her face.
When the lightning from the outside storm flashed, Hermione irrelevantly noted tiny blue specks that were randomly scattered across Malfoy's gray eyes.
It was difficult to look away.
Finally, she remembered herself, and grabbed the handle of the massive door, "If I'm not back within the hour send the search party," she said, lightly.
Malfoy's face was expressionless. Clearly, he wasn't fond of the joke.
"You won't be able to apparate until you get past the black boulder that marks the entrance to the clearing. The town is called, Hanoock," he informed her, "Remember, it's muggle."
"You don't have to worry, Malfoy. Muggles are just my type, remember? Maybe I'll run into mum and dad," she joked.
Malfoy attempted to smile, but it came out all wrong. He silently nodded her on.
Pulling her cloak as tightly to herself as she possibly could, Hermione strode into the blustery storm. Somehow over the howling wind she could have sworn she heard him say, once more,
"Be careful."
You're imagining things again, Granger. Weren't you the one that told Harry that hearing voices wasn't a good thing?
Hermione struggled to the apparation point as best she could; the wind was nearly as strong as it was the night she arrived at the castle. She stumbled several times and fell to the ground twice.
Please don't let him be watching from the castle. He'll never let me live it down.
Hair whipping in her face, she pulled herself off the damp ground and made for the clearing. As soon as she reached the black boulder; she apparated.
Opening her eyes after the momentary dizziness, Hermione took in the unfamiliar surroundings of the small town.
Small was a very generous understatement.
Can this place even qualify to be called a 'town'?
From what Hermione could see, the 'town' consisted of a handful of shops that paralleled a narrow, muddy road. On the left side of the street was a bakery that appeared to be tightly wedged between a pathetic excuse of a market store, and a structure that almost looked like a blacksmith shop.
Have I apparated back one hundred years, as well?
And then through the rain, Hermione saw a few shephards herding their frightened sheep into a nearby stall, followed by two clearly distraught border collies.
Of course! Northern Scotland is still largely full of herding colonies. It's their livelihood.
As Hermione clutched her cloak tightly around her chest and made her way towards the market, she had to suppress a smile.
She could scarcely imagine Malfoy interacting in such humble surroundings. And if she hadn't been living with him for the past two weeks in a drafty castle with little supplies, few luxuries, and no house elfs, she would have never believed it.
Point to you, Malfoy.
Then again, six years living in hiding from everyone you ever knew, probably broke you in rather quickly.
A small bell sounded as Hermione pushed herself though the door of the market store. An elderly man wearing a dirty apron over his clothes greeted her with a shaky smile.
"Foul weather for a young lady like yourself to be out in," he said by way of greeting, in a thick Scottish burr.
"Don't I know it," Hermione returned with a small smile.
"I've never seen you in Hanoock before. Just passing though?"
"How'd you guess?" Hermione asked, as she heaved a nearby sack of potatoes over her shoulder.
"Well, I'd say that I know just about every person in Hanoock. It's a small town, you see," he said, with a wink.
Hermione chuckled as she set the potatoes down on the counter and walked towards the back of the store.
"Anything I can help yeh find, lassy?" he asked, as he rang up the potatoes.
"No, thank you. I'm sure I can manage just fine," she replied over her shoulder.
Hermione wanted to have as little interaction with the people of the town as possible. The more inconspicuous she was, the better. And she wasn't feeling particularly like obliviating anyone's memory today.
As she stood on her tip toes to grab a box of muffin mix, her eyes caught the front page of a newspaper on a nearby stand.
She nearly toppled over as she scrambled over to the stand, and picked up the paper with shaky hands.
MASS KILLINGS ACROSS BRITAIN
27 DEAD.
POLICE STUMPED, DIRECTOR SAYS.
Northern Scottish Gazette journalist Seamus Worthington Reports:
"We're at a loss as to what happened, really," Police Chief Alan Hawthorn stated
at a press conference yesterday evening in London, after the bodies of twenty-seven
British citizens were found in their homes, murdered.
"Two families of six, a family of five, two families of three, and two separate couples were all
found dead in their homes, either late last night, or in the early hours of the morning,"
Chief Hawthorn continued. "The one aspect that is consistent in all of the murders, is
that the specific cause of death is uncertain."
Stranger still is that the victims live in various locations throughout Britain, with
no clear connection to one another. "We're not yet sure if this is a target on a single
group of individuals here. The victims come from various racial backgrounds, and
both men, women, and children were killed. So as of right now, it's not looking that
way." Chief Hawthorn stated.
"The one thing that we do have to go on," he continued, "is that every single one of
their homes had some kind of forced entry. With five of the homes, it appeared that the
front door had actually imploded. Scotland Yard has sent out a small task force to all of the victims' homes.
This is an issue that we are taking very seriously."
Meanwhile, the bodies of the victims have all been transported to London and will each
undergo an autopsy. The Metropolitan Police Force is not yet giving out information as to what
condition the bodies were in, once found.
"That's not really our primary concern right now," Chief Hawthorn stated, "What we
need to worry about right now is that there is a killer, or a group of killers that are
breaking into peoples homes and killing families - children included. It is of our utmost
priority to make sure that these people face justice,"
Story continued on B2.
Hermione stood, staring at the paper, long after she finished reading the article.
Muggles. They're going after muggles again. But, why now?
She quickly grabbed a few more items and returned to the front of the store, unceremoniously dumping them in front of the elderly man.
"Do you need any help out with all of this, ma'mam?" he asked, as he finished with the last item.
"No, thanks," Hermione replied quickly, handing him the money while balancing everything in her arms as best she could.
"With those potatoes, it'll be awfully heavy," he pressed, as he came around from the back side of the counter.
"Really, I'm fine. Thank you, though," Hermione said, while she was pushing the door open. The little bell rang once more.
The weather outside was actually worse, if that could at all possible. Dark clouds loomed ominously low as the rain continued to pound the muddy road. Trudging through the thick mud, Hermione felt the weight in her arms grow heavier as she neared the outskirts of Hanoock.
Just a few more yards...
The last few yards were painstakingly slow. Breathing loudly as she hauled her load uphill, she finally made it out of the sight of the town. Completely breathless, she apparated.
More rain.
That was Hermione's first thought as she arrived in the clearing by the black boulder below Muron Castle. She didn't have time to have a second thought. She immediately collapsed, dropping everything she was carrying.
She lay there on her back for a few moments as the rain pounded mercilessly on her face.
Just lovely.
Not seconds later, Hermione heard the pounding feet of someone rapidly approaching.
"Granger!"
Malfoy.
Perfect. Now he's going to think that he needs to rescue me at every turn.
"Granger!" he called again, almost frantically. This time his voice was almost on top of her.
Trying to preserve what shreds of dignity she had left, Hermione pushed herself up into a sitting position, just in time to see Malfoy fall down in front of her with an anxious expression on his face.
"What happened? Are you okay?" he demanded, looking her over, frantically.
His wand was drawn, and he eyed the surrounding tree line before turning his attention back to Hermione.
"I'm fine, Malfoy," Hermione replied, dismissively.
"I saw you collapse from the castle. You're not fine," he said, resolutely.
"Malfoy..." Hermione began, reluctant to continue.
Afraid to tell him that the weight was too much? Why?
Because you'd never admit that you might ever need his help - that's why.
And since when does Malfoy come to my "rescue" anyway?
Despite the rain, Malfoy's eyes were boring into her own, urging her to continue.
Fine. You win - just this one round.
"I was carrying," Hermione began, icily, "a sack of potatoes, along with half a dozen other things up a hill in the middle of a muddy road, without being able to levitate them in front of muggles! It was...heavier than I expected."
Malfoy looked at her for a moment, trying to deduce whether she was telling the truth.
Finally he spoke, "You're...you're not hurt, then?" he asked.
"Other than my pride, no," Hermione admitted.
A small smile appeared on Malfoy's lips.
"Here," he said, as he stood, offering his hand to pull her off the ground.
"Thanks," Hermione replied quietly, brushing herself off as Malfoy gathered the scattered groceries.
"Come on, let's hurry," he said after his arms were full, "The storm's getting worse."
Hermione followed him across the grounds, watching carefully for the precarious jagged rocks that seemed to always best her.
A few moments later, they were walking through the massive doors of Muron Castle.
"Sit," Malfoy ordered, as he motioned in the direction of the main living room, "I'll put these away."
Hermione nodded as she took off her soaking wet cloak, and collapsed onto the sofa nearest the fireplace.
"Incendio!" she said softly, as she directed her wand at the space. A crackling fire immediately roared to life.
Not five minutes later, Malfoy entered the room from the archway and stood near the fireplace.
He picked up Hermione's cloak from off the floor, muttered a drying spell, and hung it over the hearth.
"Thanks," Hermione said, again.
Malfoy merely shrugged.
"So was it worth going into town to get some food today to collapse and nearly faint from exhaustion?" he questioned as his voice quickly turned to anger.
Why is he so angry? Is he actually pretending as though he cares about what happens to me?
"I didn't nearly faint, Malfoy," Hermione retorted, as she sat up straight on the couch, "And yes, it was worth it," she added as she stood, walked over to her cloak on the hearth, and pulled out the newspaper article. She threw it to him forcefully, and sat back down next to the fire.
Malfoy caught the paper and immediately began reading. The crackling of the flames was the only sound heard besides the howling wind outside and Hermione watched Malfoy's eyes widen behind the paper. After a moment, he threw it into the hearth and began pacing.
"Do you think Snape was there?" Hermione asked.
"Obviously, Granger. What do you think he does when he's with the Death Eaters all the time? Bake cakes?" he snapped.
Hermione regarded him for a moment before asking, "Do you think that he killed any of them?"
Malfoy stopped pacing and found her eyes, "Possibly," he said quietly.
The anger must have been easily apparent on her face because Malfoy spoke again, "He doesn't have a choice, Granger. For him to keep up the pretense as a spy - you know he doesn't have a choice."
"That doesn't mean that I have to like it," Hermione said, with fire in her voice.
"No one likes it, Granger. Imagine being in his shoes for about five seconds...do you honestly believes he has it easy?" Malfoy challenged, angrily.
Again, the crackling of the fire was the only sound heard.
"No," Hermione whispered, softly.
"They're on the move again," Malfoy said as he started pacing once more, "The Dark Lord is getting closer and closer to penetrating the Ministry, and when he does..."
"God help us all," Hermione answered.
"We have work to do. We can't let it get to that point. I've got to find that Horcrux," she added.
Malfoy's eyes softened at her response, "I'm going to check on the Polyjoice Potion. Stay here and get warm, if you like," he said as he walked towards the spiral staircase.
"No, it's fine. I'll help," Hermione said, as she stood to follow him.
The dungeon felt freezing compared to the warmth of the fire Hermione had just left. She briskly rubbed her arms as she picked up her book off the floor. Malfoy had immediately returned to the cauldron.
"Malfoy?" Hermione asked, as she set the book on her lap.
"Yeah?"
"What happened, I mean...you've mentioned your mother. But...is she ok? Is she...alive?" she asked.
Hermione had been wanting to ask that question from the very moment Malfoy had first mentioned his mother. But something had held her back. Somehow, she was almost afraid to know. If Narcissa had been tortured and murdered...she didn't want to see Malfoy's face, confirming what her suspicions were.
Malfoy looked up from the potion, "She's in Azkaban," he said simply.
"Azkaban?" Hermione exclaimed, "Why?"
"Relax, Granger. It's the safest place for her to be at the moment. With the Dark Lord and my father threatening to use her as a bargaining chip, Azkaban was the only place that we knew that they couldn't touch her. It was Dumbledore's idea, actually," Malfoy replied.
Dumbledore's idea?
"But...that must be..." Hermione started.
"Look, it's fine, Granger. Don't worry about it. She's safe. It may not be the Four Seasons, but she's safe. That's all that matters. When this is all over, she'll be free."
Hermione looked at Malfoy and suddenly something changed in her perception of him.
This man wasn't the boy that she knew back at school. He had loved ones to protect, just like everyone else in this war did. And regardless of everything that had happened in their past; none of it mattered anymore.
Voldemort and the Horcruxes. Nothing else mattered.
And in that moment, Hermione vowed that she wouldn't let their past dictate what the future would be.
We're in this together, after all.
"But," Malfoy said, breaking the silence, "your parents, Granger...with the killings beginning once more...they really should, err...find somewhere to hide..." he trailed off.
And in that moment, Hermione could have hugged him.
Instead, she settled for a warm smile that crossed her lips.
"They went into hiding, long ago - just after Dumbledore's death. They aren't even in the country," she informed him, as she opened her book, "But...thank you."
Malfoy smiled softly as he added a vile to the cauldron.
Hermione returned to her book.
Ok, Chapter Fifteen: Beyond Unforgivables: Uncommon Curses that can be the Wizard's Darkest Ally
Interesting.
And what she would never admit, was that some of the curses and methods of Dark Magic actually intrigued her.
Well, it's good to know what you're fighting against, right?
She continued to read in silence for some time before she came to a page with an incantation that made her stop.
The Mudiaticus Curse: For Mudbloods.
-The Mudiaticus Curse will show just how filthy a Mudblood's blood truly is. For best results, flourish your wand, utilize the standard "attack movement of motion" (reference chapter 4), and speak the incantation, "Sangre Immunda Procedo!"
As soon as Hermione read the incantation, she immediately dropped the book, clutched her left upper arm, and let out a horrible scream.
Startled, Malfoy dropped a vile that shattered to the floor and was instantly in front of Hermione with a fearful expression on his face.
"What? What's wrong?" he demanded, anxiously, as Hermione continued to grasp her arm and rock back and forth on the cool stone floor.
"I...I just read...an incantation...in my head... and now my arm...," Hermione struggled between breaths, and then she doubled over with a quiet moan.
Malfoy, glanced quickly over at the discarded book and read the open page.
Oh, shit.
"Granger! Let me see your arm!" Malfoy ordered with a panicked expression.
Pulling her into a sitting position, Malfoy gently tried to pry Hermione's hand off her arm.
It was completely red.
"Hermione, please, I have to see it!" Malfoy begged, frantically.
She was quite literally fighting against him until the mention of her name.
Hermione slowly opened her tear stained eyes and found Malfoy's.
She was shaking.
"Please, you need to trust me," Malfoy pleaded, "I'll do my best not to hurt you."
Closing her eyes tightly as she grimaced with pain, Hermione nodded and buried her head into Malfoy's chest as he slowly removed her stained fingers.
Blood was everywhere.
Steadying himself, Malfoy ripped the sleeve where the blood was gushing from. Quickly finding his wand, he pointed it at the gash in Hermione's arm and muttered a counter-curse.
Nothing.
Dammit! Why did she have to read this curse, of all curses?
Again, he closed his eyes and recited the incantation again, this time with more urgency.
Immediately, a light of brilliant blue erupted from his wand - so blinding that Malfoy had to momentarily close his eyes. Hermione tensed and softly whimpered into his chest.
As soon as the light subsided, Malfoy looked at the wound. It was still lightly bleeding, but the relief that consumed Malfoy was almost tangible. He quickly used his free hand to cover her arm, and Hermione jumped slightly at the contact.
"Hermione, I need to put some pressure on your arm to stop the bleeding. The worst is over. You okay?" He asked, gently into her hair.
Hermione nodded against him, and then extracted herself from his chest.
She sniffed loudly, and then whipped her face with the back of her hand, smearing blood across her face. Finally she found her voice.
"I don't know what happened..." she said, shakily, "I didn't even speak the incantation..."
"It's an extremely powerful spell...if you would have read it aloud, I don't think that...I don't think I could have stopped it," he whispered.
Hermione closed her eyes again, tightly.
"Does it still hurt? How bad is the pain?" he questioned, quietly.
Hermione opened her eyes and found Malfoy's, "Never better," she replied, smiling weakly.
Malfoy smiled slightly for a moment, and then his expression turned to one of anger.
"I'm such an idiot. I never should have let you read those books. I can't believe that I forgot about the muggleborn curses in there..." he trailed off.
Hermione's erratic breathing consumed all his thoughts, until he shook himself.
"Accio tourniquet!" He shouted, pointing his wand in the direction of the spiral stairs.
A few moments later, a tourniquet flew down the stairway and into Malfoy's waiting hand.
He shifted Hermione on his lap, while continuing to put pressure on her arm.
"A curse like the Mudiaticus cannot be entirely healed with magic. You'll have to keep this tourniquet on for some time to completely stop the bleeding," he informed her as he readied the cloth.
"I'm going to have to tie it tightly...it may be painful..." he said gently, as he met her wet, tawny eyes.
Hermione stared at him silently for a moment.
Then, she nodded, closed her eyes, and pushed her head back into Malfoy's chest.
Malfoy's stained hand slowly released Hermione's arm. It was still bleeding. Quickly grabbing the cloth, he deftly maneuvered it around the circumference of her arm and steadied himself.
Please, let me do this right the first time.
With one deep breath, he fiercely tightened the cloth against her skin.
Hermione gasped, and clutched Malfoy's shoulder with her free hand.
She let out several shaky breaths and continued to hold Malfoy's arm tightly.
A moment later, she lifted her head up to look at him.
Malfoy's eyes showed something Hermione had never seen in them before. Something...indescribable. She was just about to speak when a silvery Patronus flew down the stairs.
A stag.
No, - a doe.
The doe opened it's mouth and spoke in Snape's grave voice, "Meet me on the Northern side of Blackmoor Forest. Both of you. Now."
After a moment, the doe vanished.
Please review!!
A/N: A HUGE "thank you" to Gallivant for helping me with the how the police systems work over in Britain. I had been calling everything "the London P.D.", and apparently that's quite wrong. What can I say? I'm an ignorant American. Anyways, hopefully everything is all correct now so my friends and readers from across the pond will find this story slightly more bearable. Thanks!