A/N
Bet you all hate me for that! The 'mysterious stranger' competition is now closed. Thanks to everyone who guessed. I can tell you now that at the time of writing, (Wednesday evening, October 20th) only one person had guessed correctly. He IS one of JK's characters ... the clues were there ... and he has already been mentioned by name. Read on to find out just who it is. Thanks to the lovely people who review me, especially Cassandra, Firecross et autres. Why not review this time if you didn't already? I expect I'll get flames for this part.
Chapter 8. In which we finally learn the identity of the mysterious stranger, and events take a turn for the worst. Being a short and momentous chapter in this story.
A few minutes earlier ....
Hermione stayed by Draco's side for a moment longer until he calmed down, and his breathing returned to normal. He was shivering violently, and his arms were covered in goose pimples.
"I'm going to get you more blankets," said Hermione. "You're freezing."
"Thank you," coughed Draco. Hermione gathered up the covers that had been thrown to the floor, and rearranged them on the bed. Then she left the room, turning to smile at Draco as she closed the door.
The stranger stepped out of the shadows where he had been standing.
"Hello Draco."
Draco looked up, into the hooded face. He could still see nothing there.
"You're not doing very well Draco. Your wand is even now beside you. Why did you not use it when Weasley was in the room?"
"I ... you ..."
"Come now Draco. Even though you seem to have Hermione Potter wrapped around your little finger ... it won't work for ever. You cannot continue with this bewildered, frightened child act any longer. I won't stand for it. I want results Draco," he bent down close to Draco, till he was almost whispering in his ear. "I want results, and I know how to go about getting them."
The door opened again, and Hermione stepped into the room, carrying a pile of blankets. She froze as she saw the man standing over Draco.
"Who are you?" she breathed, making sure her wand was ready.
The stranger looked up. He seemed to be staring straight into Hermione's eyes. His hands went to his hood, and slowly, he removed it. Draco gasped, dreading what he might see. But what he saw was not the hideous, deformed face of his dreams, but a face he knew of old. But how it had changed since he had last seen it. It looked so much older. It was gaunt and hollow. If there had ever been any life there ... it was now extinguished.
"Father?" said Draco.
Lucius Malfoy turned to Draco. "Draco. We ... 'meet' at last."
Hermione looked horrified. "What are you doing here?" she began. "What do you want with Draco?"
Lucius scowled at Hermione. "It is simple ..." he began. "I want the one who killed me ... or at least, as good as killed me ... all those years ago."
"But that was Lord Voldemort," said Draco.
Lucius rounded on his terrified son. "Lies," he hissed. "All lies ... nothing was true. I was not killed by Lord Voldemort, I was not even harmed by him. The Dark Lord rewards his servants, and punishes his enemies."
Draco looked up again, about to speak, but Lucius silenced him. "We have spent many long years searching for you Draco," he said. "The Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort and I. We followed every rumour, every lead ... but you were well hidden weren't you?"
Draco looked first to Hermione, then back to his father. "I don't know what you mean."
"Draco, even the Death Eaters would not approach the dread fortress of Azkaban," Hermione gasped again at this. Lucius continued. "The Dementors had you well protected."
Draco turned to Hermione, a pleading look in his eyes. "Hermi ... please?"
Lucius scowled, and then struck Draco hard across the face. "Silence!" he roared. "A Malfoy does not grovel at the feet of a mudblood."
He turned back to Hermione, withdrawing his wand as he did so. He pointed it at Hermione, who was rooted to the spot, like a rabbit caught in a headlight beam.
"Avada Kedavra!" he screamed. Hermione screamed too ... a bolt of green light shot from the end of Malfoy's wand. She heard the rushing sound, saw the light. It struck her in the head. Her body glowed green for a brief second, and she collapsed to the floor, lifeless.
"A fate which she deserved when first I discovered your ... indiscretion Draco," he said. He strode over to the door, and clicked the lock into place.
Draco had hidden his face in the blankets.
"Look at me!" hissed Lucius. "Why are you afraid to show your face boy?"
Draco didn't answer.
"Could it be you are ashamed?"
There was a hammering at the door. A voice, raised. "Hello. Hello, what's going on?" it was Fleur. Lucius ignored her.
"I said ... could it be you are ashamed," he grabbed a handful of Draco's hair, and pulled him upwards. Draco screamed. The hammering on the door grew louder.
"I heard screams!" someone was shouting. "Hermi? Are you okay? Who else is in there?"
"Are you ashamed?" yelled Malfoy, still clutching Draco by his hair. The boy's screams grew louder still.
"No father," he squealed. Malfoy released his grip, and Draco fell back onto the pillows.
"Hermione! Draco! Open this door!" called Fleur.
"Draco ... I am disappointed in you. You are failing the test I have set you."
"What test?" asked Draco.
"To bring me Weasley," hissed Lucius. "That is all I want. That act alone will prove to me that you are more than worthy to be re-admitted to our ranks. Voldemort will not be angry with you. I promise you that Draco ... but only if you succeed. I want Weasley, and so far you have disappointed me."
Draco knew better than to ask his father why he wanted Ron. He also knew he didn't want to pass the so called test that had been set for him.
"There is still time," said Lucius. "Do not think I won't be back Draco. Do not think you have escaped me."
He turned to the window, saw that it was locked, and blasted it open with his wand. So doing. He climbed onto the windowsill, agile as a cat, and then was gone.
Draco heard his feet on the patio below, but he did not yet dare move. There was a loud bang from outside, and a rush of green light. Draco did not dare look. Finally, when he judged it safe, he clambered out of bed, and rushed to the window. Sure enough, the Dark Mark was floating serenely in the sky overhead, casting an eldritch glow over the garden.
"Hermione!" came Fleur's voice. "Open this door!"
Draco ran over to the door, and unlocked it. It burst open, nearly flattening him, as Fleur barged into the room like an enraged elephant. She stopped as she saw what had happened. Hermione's corpse was lying on the floor, her face an expression of pure horror ... her eyes wide open. Draco ... standing there, his face red, his eyes puffy and swollen.
Fleur dropped to her knees beside Hermione. "How did ... how did this happen?"
Draco took a step backwards. "It was Avada Kedavra," he whispered. "The killing curse."
Fleur put her hand to Hermione's forehead. She was still warm ... blood trickled from a tiny cut, just below her hairline, where the curse had struck home.
Draco dropped to the floor, kneeling over Hermione. He could feel the tears coming.
"There is no pulse," said Fleur. "We had better not let the children see her."
A lone tear ran down Draco's face. "Where are the children?" he asked.
"Downstairs," said Fleur. "I told them to wait there for me ... we heard screams. Draco, who was it, who did this?"
Draco sighed. "My father," he breathed.
"Your father is dead ... surely."
Draco shook his head. "I thought he was," he began. "Evidently no longer."
Fleur felt Hermione's forehead again. "There is ... nothing we can do," she said. "She is dead."
Draco heard running footsteps on the patio below. The sound of shouting ... Harry's voice.
"Oh Lord," said Fleur, a tear running down her face as she looked at Hermione's limp form. "Oh Lord."
Now footsteps, on the stairs, thumping on the bare boards, coming ever closer. The door to the bedroom burst open. Harry stood there, wand poised and at the ready. He observed the scene before him. Draco and Fleur crouched by Hermione's side. Hermione lying on the floor.
"Is ... what happened?" gasped Harry, taking a step nearer.
Fleur looked up. Harry could see from the expression on their faces what had happened.
"Harry," began Fleur.
"She's dead ... isn't she," said Harry, his voice hoarse.
Fleur nodded. "Harry ... I'm ... so sorry."
A myriad thoughts were swirling round Harry's beleaguered mind. Why Hermione? Why now? What had she done to ... what had he done to deserve this loss?
"Why me?" he breathed. "Why is it always me?"
He bent down next to Hermione. Fleur stood up, and took Draco by the hand. "We'll ... be downstairs Harry. I ... you should have some time alone."
Harry was stroking Hermione's hair, cradling her head in his arms. Blood was still trickling down her forehead from the wound the curse had made. It stained his jumper crimson red. "Thank you," he breathed. Fleur ushered Draco out of the door, and closed it softly. A moment later he heard their footsteps on the stairs.
Harry leant closer, and kissed his wife on the cheek. The body was still warm. It seemed stupid, so horribly futile, that her life could have been snatched from her. Only the night before they had been joking, happy ... their friends had been at their side. Never again would she favour him with her smile ... never again would they sit side by side in bed, a child snuggled down between them, smarting from a nightmare. Never again would she grin as she removed yet another culinary disaster from the oven. Harry had thought he had all those things. He thought he would have them until his dying day ... clearly he was to be denied.
He clutched her lifeless form even more closely, and wept bitterly.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Fleur closed the living room door. Ron was sitting on the sofa, all four children held closely. He looked up expectantly as she and Draco came over, and sat down with them.
"Are they okay?" asked Ron, dreading what he might hear. "Where's Hermi."
Fleur looked down at the floor ... it was all she could do not to start crying in front of Harry's children. They were looking at her, their eyes wide behind their glasses. They were the very image of Harry and Hermione. Their parentage could not possibly have ever been in doubt.
"Fleur," whispered Ron. "What happened. Who was it?"
"It was my father," said Draco, in a small voice. "He ... came back."
"Your father is dead," said Ron. "Stop talking rubbish. How's Hermi? Is Harry with her?"
"Ron. Will, Rebecca," Fleur looked up again. "I ... don't know quite how to say this. Heaven knows, I prayed I never would have to."
"She's dead," breathed William. "Isn't she?"
Rebecca buried her face in her hands. William put his arm around her shoulder.
"Isn't she?"
Fleur coughed. Then she nodded. "I'm sorry," she said.
Draco didn't say anything. One look at his face said it all.
"What happened?" asked Ron, more firmly this time.
"There's no need," said William, holding his sister close to him. "It was Avada Kedavra ... wasn't it?"
Fleur nodded again.
Tears were streaming down both their faces. Fleur had to look away.
"She didn't suffer then," breathed Ron. "It was quick."
Rebecca sobbed loudly. Fleur clutched the edge of the sofa. She wanted so badly to hug and comfort them, to tell them everything would be all right. But she couldn't bring herself to. She knew she would be lying if she tried to comfort them. Everything would not be all right. Hermione was dead, murdered in her own house by a cloaked intruder who, who appeared to have taken on the appearance of a man everybody knew to be long dead ... at least, if Draco's words were to be believed.
The door opened, and Harry came in, a look of despair such as they had never seen on his face before.
"There's nothing I could do," he said, bleakly. "There's nothing any of us could do."
The children detached themselves from Ron, and flung themselves at their father. At that moment, the enormity of what had happened finally hit Harry ... Rebecca, sobbing uncontrollably into his jumper ... William, biting his lip in an effort not to ... Harry fainted to the floor.
A/N
How did Lucius Malfoy apparently escape death? And if he stayed in the room ... then who made the footprints outside? Hermione dead? How can this be? These questions, and others I haven't thought of yet, will of course be answered soon. Review ... please?? Oh yeah ... the winner, was ~a QT Chic~ (think that's how you spell it, sorry if I'm wrong) who correctly guessed Lucius Malfoy. Admire, worship and revere this person, for they are wise! It was going to be Pettigrew but I had a major rethink, deleted five chapters and did a massive rewrite so that I can have a massive denouement at the end, a la JK Rowling, and also gives me the chance for some more plot complication to confuse Pantalaimon a bit more. OK, that's enough author's note. Bye now. PS ... review ... I expect I'll get flamed, but it would be giving the plot away to try and avoid them by divulging what will happen next.
Bet you all hate me for that! The 'mysterious stranger' competition is now closed. Thanks to everyone who guessed. I can tell you now that at the time of writing, (Wednesday evening, October 20th) only one person had guessed correctly. He IS one of JK's characters ... the clues were there ... and he has already been mentioned by name. Read on to find out just who it is. Thanks to the lovely people who review me, especially Cassandra, Firecross et autres. Why not review this time if you didn't already? I expect I'll get flames for this part.
Chapter 8. In which we finally learn the identity of the mysterious stranger, and events take a turn for the worst. Being a short and momentous chapter in this story.
A few minutes earlier ....
Hermione stayed by Draco's side for a moment longer until he calmed down, and his breathing returned to normal. He was shivering violently, and his arms were covered in goose pimples.
"I'm going to get you more blankets," said Hermione. "You're freezing."
"Thank you," coughed Draco. Hermione gathered up the covers that had been thrown to the floor, and rearranged them on the bed. Then she left the room, turning to smile at Draco as she closed the door.
The stranger stepped out of the shadows where he had been standing.
"Hello Draco."
Draco looked up, into the hooded face. He could still see nothing there.
"You're not doing very well Draco. Your wand is even now beside you. Why did you not use it when Weasley was in the room?"
"I ... you ..."
"Come now Draco. Even though you seem to have Hermione Potter wrapped around your little finger ... it won't work for ever. You cannot continue with this bewildered, frightened child act any longer. I won't stand for it. I want results Draco," he bent down close to Draco, till he was almost whispering in his ear. "I want results, and I know how to go about getting them."
The door opened again, and Hermione stepped into the room, carrying a pile of blankets. She froze as she saw the man standing over Draco.
"Who are you?" she breathed, making sure her wand was ready.
The stranger looked up. He seemed to be staring straight into Hermione's eyes. His hands went to his hood, and slowly, he removed it. Draco gasped, dreading what he might see. But what he saw was not the hideous, deformed face of his dreams, but a face he knew of old. But how it had changed since he had last seen it. It looked so much older. It was gaunt and hollow. If there had ever been any life there ... it was now extinguished.
"Father?" said Draco.
Lucius Malfoy turned to Draco. "Draco. We ... 'meet' at last."
Hermione looked horrified. "What are you doing here?" she began. "What do you want with Draco?"
Lucius scowled at Hermione. "It is simple ..." he began. "I want the one who killed me ... or at least, as good as killed me ... all those years ago."
"But that was Lord Voldemort," said Draco.
Lucius rounded on his terrified son. "Lies," he hissed. "All lies ... nothing was true. I was not killed by Lord Voldemort, I was not even harmed by him. The Dark Lord rewards his servants, and punishes his enemies."
Draco looked up again, about to speak, but Lucius silenced him. "We have spent many long years searching for you Draco," he said. "The Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort and I. We followed every rumour, every lead ... but you were well hidden weren't you?"
Draco looked first to Hermione, then back to his father. "I don't know what you mean."
"Draco, even the Death Eaters would not approach the dread fortress of Azkaban," Hermione gasped again at this. Lucius continued. "The Dementors had you well protected."
Draco turned to Hermione, a pleading look in his eyes. "Hermi ... please?"
Lucius scowled, and then struck Draco hard across the face. "Silence!" he roared. "A Malfoy does not grovel at the feet of a mudblood."
He turned back to Hermione, withdrawing his wand as he did so. He pointed it at Hermione, who was rooted to the spot, like a rabbit caught in a headlight beam.
"Avada Kedavra!" he screamed. Hermione screamed too ... a bolt of green light shot from the end of Malfoy's wand. She heard the rushing sound, saw the light. It struck her in the head. Her body glowed green for a brief second, and she collapsed to the floor, lifeless.
"A fate which she deserved when first I discovered your ... indiscretion Draco," he said. He strode over to the door, and clicked the lock into place.
Draco had hidden his face in the blankets.
"Look at me!" hissed Lucius. "Why are you afraid to show your face boy?"
Draco didn't answer.
"Could it be you are ashamed?"
There was a hammering at the door. A voice, raised. "Hello. Hello, what's going on?" it was Fleur. Lucius ignored her.
"I said ... could it be you are ashamed," he grabbed a handful of Draco's hair, and pulled him upwards. Draco screamed. The hammering on the door grew louder.
"I heard screams!" someone was shouting. "Hermi? Are you okay? Who else is in there?"
"Are you ashamed?" yelled Malfoy, still clutching Draco by his hair. The boy's screams grew louder still.
"No father," he squealed. Malfoy released his grip, and Draco fell back onto the pillows.
"Hermione! Draco! Open this door!" called Fleur.
"Draco ... I am disappointed in you. You are failing the test I have set you."
"What test?" asked Draco.
"To bring me Weasley," hissed Lucius. "That is all I want. That act alone will prove to me that you are more than worthy to be re-admitted to our ranks. Voldemort will not be angry with you. I promise you that Draco ... but only if you succeed. I want Weasley, and so far you have disappointed me."
Draco knew better than to ask his father why he wanted Ron. He also knew he didn't want to pass the so called test that had been set for him.
"There is still time," said Lucius. "Do not think I won't be back Draco. Do not think you have escaped me."
He turned to the window, saw that it was locked, and blasted it open with his wand. So doing. He climbed onto the windowsill, agile as a cat, and then was gone.
Draco heard his feet on the patio below, but he did not yet dare move. There was a loud bang from outside, and a rush of green light. Draco did not dare look. Finally, when he judged it safe, he clambered out of bed, and rushed to the window. Sure enough, the Dark Mark was floating serenely in the sky overhead, casting an eldritch glow over the garden.
"Hermione!" came Fleur's voice. "Open this door!"
Draco ran over to the door, and unlocked it. It burst open, nearly flattening him, as Fleur barged into the room like an enraged elephant. She stopped as she saw what had happened. Hermione's corpse was lying on the floor, her face an expression of pure horror ... her eyes wide open. Draco ... standing there, his face red, his eyes puffy and swollen.
Fleur dropped to her knees beside Hermione. "How did ... how did this happen?"
Draco took a step backwards. "It was Avada Kedavra," he whispered. "The killing curse."
Fleur put her hand to Hermione's forehead. She was still warm ... blood trickled from a tiny cut, just below her hairline, where the curse had struck home.
Draco dropped to the floor, kneeling over Hermione. He could feel the tears coming.
"There is no pulse," said Fleur. "We had better not let the children see her."
A lone tear ran down Draco's face. "Where are the children?" he asked.
"Downstairs," said Fleur. "I told them to wait there for me ... we heard screams. Draco, who was it, who did this?"
Draco sighed. "My father," he breathed.
"Your father is dead ... surely."
Draco shook his head. "I thought he was," he began. "Evidently no longer."
Fleur felt Hermione's forehead again. "There is ... nothing we can do," she said. "She is dead."
Draco heard running footsteps on the patio below. The sound of shouting ... Harry's voice.
"Oh Lord," said Fleur, a tear running down her face as she looked at Hermione's limp form. "Oh Lord."
Now footsteps, on the stairs, thumping on the bare boards, coming ever closer. The door to the bedroom burst open. Harry stood there, wand poised and at the ready. He observed the scene before him. Draco and Fleur crouched by Hermione's side. Hermione lying on the floor.
"Is ... what happened?" gasped Harry, taking a step nearer.
Fleur looked up. Harry could see from the expression on their faces what had happened.
"Harry," began Fleur.
"She's dead ... isn't she," said Harry, his voice hoarse.
Fleur nodded. "Harry ... I'm ... so sorry."
A myriad thoughts were swirling round Harry's beleaguered mind. Why Hermione? Why now? What had she done to ... what had he done to deserve this loss?
"Why me?" he breathed. "Why is it always me?"
He bent down next to Hermione. Fleur stood up, and took Draco by the hand. "We'll ... be downstairs Harry. I ... you should have some time alone."
Harry was stroking Hermione's hair, cradling her head in his arms. Blood was still trickling down her forehead from the wound the curse had made. It stained his jumper crimson red. "Thank you," he breathed. Fleur ushered Draco out of the door, and closed it softly. A moment later he heard their footsteps on the stairs.
Harry leant closer, and kissed his wife on the cheek. The body was still warm. It seemed stupid, so horribly futile, that her life could have been snatched from her. Only the night before they had been joking, happy ... their friends had been at their side. Never again would she favour him with her smile ... never again would they sit side by side in bed, a child snuggled down between them, smarting from a nightmare. Never again would she grin as she removed yet another culinary disaster from the oven. Harry had thought he had all those things. He thought he would have them until his dying day ... clearly he was to be denied.
He clutched her lifeless form even more closely, and wept bitterly.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Fleur closed the living room door. Ron was sitting on the sofa, all four children held closely. He looked up expectantly as she and Draco came over, and sat down with them.
"Are they okay?" asked Ron, dreading what he might hear. "Where's Hermi."
Fleur looked down at the floor ... it was all she could do not to start crying in front of Harry's children. They were looking at her, their eyes wide behind their glasses. They were the very image of Harry and Hermione. Their parentage could not possibly have ever been in doubt.
"Fleur," whispered Ron. "What happened. Who was it?"
"It was my father," said Draco, in a small voice. "He ... came back."
"Your father is dead," said Ron. "Stop talking rubbish. How's Hermi? Is Harry with her?"
"Ron. Will, Rebecca," Fleur looked up again. "I ... don't know quite how to say this. Heaven knows, I prayed I never would have to."
"She's dead," breathed William. "Isn't she?"
Rebecca buried her face in her hands. William put his arm around her shoulder.
"Isn't she?"
Fleur coughed. Then she nodded. "I'm sorry," she said.
Draco didn't say anything. One look at his face said it all.
"What happened?" asked Ron, more firmly this time.
"There's no need," said William, holding his sister close to him. "It was Avada Kedavra ... wasn't it?"
Fleur nodded again.
Tears were streaming down both their faces. Fleur had to look away.
"She didn't suffer then," breathed Ron. "It was quick."
Rebecca sobbed loudly. Fleur clutched the edge of the sofa. She wanted so badly to hug and comfort them, to tell them everything would be all right. But she couldn't bring herself to. She knew she would be lying if she tried to comfort them. Everything would not be all right. Hermione was dead, murdered in her own house by a cloaked intruder who, who appeared to have taken on the appearance of a man everybody knew to be long dead ... at least, if Draco's words were to be believed.
The door opened, and Harry came in, a look of despair such as they had never seen on his face before.
"There's nothing I could do," he said, bleakly. "There's nothing any of us could do."
The children detached themselves from Ron, and flung themselves at their father. At that moment, the enormity of what had happened finally hit Harry ... Rebecca, sobbing uncontrollably into his jumper ... William, biting his lip in an effort not to ... Harry fainted to the floor.
A/N
How did Lucius Malfoy apparently escape death? And if he stayed in the room ... then who made the footprints outside? Hermione dead? How can this be? These questions, and others I haven't thought of yet, will of course be answered soon. Review ... please?? Oh yeah ... the winner, was ~a QT Chic~ (think that's how you spell it, sorry if I'm wrong) who correctly guessed Lucius Malfoy. Admire, worship and revere this person, for they are wise! It was going to be Pettigrew but I had a major rethink, deleted five chapters and did a massive rewrite so that I can have a massive denouement at the end, a la JK Rowling, and also gives me the chance for some more plot complication to confuse Pantalaimon a bit more. OK, that's enough author's note. Bye now. PS ... review ... I expect I'll get flamed, but it would be giving the plot away to try and avoid them by divulging what will happen next.