Chapter 2
She purses her lower lip and puts down the newspaper.
More disappearances.
No clues.
"Only tragedy," she mouths to her reflection in the mirror.
Her apartment is small and bizarre.
It has mirrors for walls. She wards it every night, taking care to double check permanent security installations. But of course, if they wanted her—to capture her for some unfathomable reason, the safety measures wouldn't last very long.
She sips her morning coffee, black with no sugar, and leans back—folding her legs like a cat in the armchair.
She must pack the necklace carefully, in a brown package of course, and lay it to rest.
She has found the perfect place.
She watches him from across the street.
It is evening and her stomach growls in protest.
She holds a burning cigarette in her left hand, clutching the beaded bag in her right, and watches the unremarkable house with a slight frown on her face.
It is a bad neighbourhood—she has already had to get rid of two randy teenagers with a Confundus spell—and she wonders if he is living alone.
Did he have a family?
Perhaps not.
The windows are curtained; the dull glow of light within mimicked by a hundred other houses around her.
But this is the Spinner's End and she knows where he lives.
"What a shame," she whispers to herself. The door has just opened and a sullen looking, youngish Mulciber seems to walk out. Severus hasn't followed his guest. "Our dour Professor seems to lack manners. He didn't even bid his friend goodbye."
She chuckles mirthlessly and casts away the burning cigarette, taking care to crush it under the toes of her dragon hide boots, and sneaks down the alleyway.
"You!" His eyes seem to widen in surprise and—anger. "Why are you here? How the fuck do you know where I live?"
His hiss betrays indignation and panic. But he doesn't close the door on her face.
He doesn't.
She leans her head against the frame and stares into his eyes, unblinking.
"I have a proposition that you might not want to refuse, Severus." She savours his name on her tongue. It reminds her of... "Let me in."
He seems unsure, almost on the verge of denying her an audience, but the teenager in him gets better of caution. She watches while shrivelled leaves whirl around her feet on the pavement, the wind too cold and unnatural.
His shoulders sag and he gives a furtive look behind him before grabbing a tattered cloak from the hook on the wall.
"Not here."
The alleyway is quiet and she senses no danger.
But she still fingers her wand carefully, gently caressing the ebony wood and staying alert.
"Before you tell me anything, anything at all, I want to know how you found out where I lived." His shoulders are hooded and he has his arms buried deep in the pockets of his cloak. His face has apprehension written all over it and she feels the lack of imperious confidence in his voice.
He is just a child.
"I followed you," she lies.
"Followed me?"
"Yes."
"But I didn't see anyone... I would have known..." He runs a nervous hand through his oily hair. "Why did you follow me?"
She chuckles and winks.
"Just in case, Severus." She tilts her head and crosses her arms. "Just in case."
He looks a bit... suspicious.
No cross that.
He looks very suspicious.
Obviously.
"You're creepy." He frowns, the upper lip curling into one of distaste and this is a look she remembers far too well from her past. "I have half a mind to leave."
"Sure you do." With effortless ease, she draws her wand and trains it at him. "I have half a mind to kill you if you leave. But then, I doubt that you want that. Of course, we could come to a mutually beneficial agreement and avoid senseless carnage."
He blinks at her wand.
Defenceless.
Cold.
And cornered.
That is what he is right now.
He looks away and swallows.
"What do you want, Hermione?" he bites out, keeping control over his features and crosses his arms.
Oh you get better this game, darling. Of hiding and controlling.
Much better.
"This pouch has fifty Galleons." She throws it to him. "It's yours. All you have to do is come with me."
"Today?"
She nods.
"Where?"
A twisted smile crosses her features, almost feral, and she grabs his upper arm.
They manage to Apparate right in the middle of the cemetery. It is cold, so close to Christmas, and she is reminded of Godric's Hollow.
Stay strong, Hermione.
Again and again.
"Well?"
Severus looks at her, his eyes watchful and filled with apprehension.
Yes, dear Severus. You would have had reason to fear me if you were the enemy.
"Well what?" Hermione asks innocently, turning her head this way and that—carefully scanning the surroundings for any visitors.
No one seems to be around.
"Why are we here?" he asks, frustrated.
A genial smile graces her lips as she gestures for him to follow her.
"Pick up that shovel, darling." She points to one lying close by. "We have a grave to dig."
He stares at her stupidly.
"You're joking, right?"
She raises her eyebrow, not answering, and sits on the marble slab of the next grave.
"Dig."
His pale face expresses bafflement.
He doesn't move.
"Surely, you don't need me for this. You could use your wand to retrieve whatever you want." He looks around curiously."Why are we here, digging up muggle graves?"
She rubs her forehead with the back of her palm and fixes him with a sour look.
"I'm paying you fifty Galleons," she reminds him. "Surely, you don't need information. Anyone else would not be so... nosy and simply do as they are told. With gratitude, if I might add."
Severus crosses his arms. "Then get someone else to do it."
"What, and miss all this... dourness? Nah. Besides, why are you complaining exactly? All you need to do is dig. Easy money."
She watches quietly as he considers his next course of action. He is conflicted.
He wants the money but his curiosity is killing him.
One of these days, she will need to satisfy it.
"It says Thomas Riddle." He looks at her in confusion. "Who is that?"
"Some questions are better left for happier times, Severus." Her face darkens. "Don't go looking for answers in the night."
He doesn't like her answer but knows that there wouldn't be any more revelations for the time being.
After a long time, he picks up the shovel and begins to dig.
"Do you have a girlfriend, Severus?" she enquires softly, from her perch.
"No." His voice is hoarse.
He is meticulous in his labour and she admires him for that.
"Why not?"
"Don't need one."
"Tut, tut..." She clicks her tongue and caresses her jaw. "That is sad. Every teenage boy needs one, don't you think?"
"No."
He's almost done now; she can see the faint fabric of a polished casket.
"Stop."
He looks up at her, confused once more, and decides to ask no questions.
She gets up from her seat and walks over to Severus, standing beside him as she looks down.
"You've done well," she says and draws her wand.
The casket opens at a whispered command and she almost shudders at the sight of frozen bones.
Bones.
"You're not a necromancer, are you?"
She laughs shortly.
"No," she says and bends down.
She needs to touch them, to know...
They have to be real.
Of course they are real.
Withdrawing a large cloth from her backpack, she collects the bones in it. Transfiguring it into a small pouch is no big feat.
"Hold this." She hands him her bag. "Carefully."
He's looking at the grave with a thoughtful expression on his face.
You'll know all, I promise.
Levitating a brown coloured package from the bag, she deposits it in the empty grave and uses her foot to scatter mud all over it.
Her work is done. "Well?"
"What?"
She smiles like a cat, feeling rather calm. "Never dig a grave you don't intend to fill, of course."
"Of course," he snarls and bends down on haunches, intent on getting away from this girl as fast as he can.
Poisoned.
She blinks.
He was poisoned.
Again.
You have to come back.
Rise again.
"Whose grave was it?" he asks curiously. They are sitting in the corner of an overnight cafe. The service is mediocre but they have fine tea.
"Another time." She waves away his question.
"Who are you?"
She raises her brow, as if to ask 'Do you really expect me to answer that question?'
"Fine." He rolls his eyes. "I can't complain that you are not answering my questions. But if I get into trouble for this, any of it, I will hurt you."
He means it.
She smiles wryly at him.
"How's school?"
He looks discomfited. "It's alright, I suppose."
She pouts.
"I might have a few more assignments for you along the way, if you're interested."
"I won't be allowed out once the term begins after holidays."
She sips her tea quietly, pondering.
"What if I can find a way?"
He looks sceptic but dips his head in assent. "If you pay me well, my services are at your disposal."
"I will need you to keep this... all of this... a secret, of course."
Her brown eyes glitter dangerously.
He nods slowly. "I—I see."
"Promise me."
His lips part in worry and thought; he is a Slytherin and promises mean debt.
Especially for someone like him. But she needs his word.
"Promise me or we end this here. You shall never see me again."
It is bait.
She knows he can see through it but fuck, he is curious.
He will swallow it.
Willingly.
"I promise."
I shall rise again.
It has been easy this far.
The trouble will begin as she gets closer.
She ties her hair in a knot and looks out of her window. The street is crowded.
Stay strong.
But he has taken the bait and effectively bound himself to her... in a very strange way and she relishes that triumph, relishes the fact that she has effectively manipulated a Slytherin into her fold and she is confident of the fact that more victories will follow—but she feels old.
So very old.
And tired.
She has kept quiet so far.
Lain low.
Dumbledore knows nothing of her existence.
He mustn't.
And perhaps, before all this is done, she will get a chance to fuck her Professor.
She chuckles briefly, like a mad woman, and turns away.
"To the victors go the spoils."
Hey guys,
Um... not so sure about this chapter. Do u want more description or is this fine?
Also, I will appreciate reviews and criticism.
XOXO