Chapter Three: Posion in the Night
Written by Elluxion
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*grins* I thought of a reason to explain for the drama of the last chapter! Hermione's a witch with Muggle parents, right? So she's touchy about the idea of Voldemort. Her whole life she's been trying to prove that she's stronger and better than what everyone thinks of her, and to see some other idiot who doesn't realize that he is better and more determined than what he and others think of himself really annoys her, which is why she got all passionate. :D Fine, that was rubbish ... I know. ;_; Forgive me! I'm in a pretty foul mood. ;) Yes, Muggles, run and hide! On a seriouser note, this chapter is dedicated to Dr Megalomania. (If you look up megalomania in the dictionary, you should have a good laugh. I know I did. And DrM is so not a megalomaniac. :P) DrM's beautiful Card Captor Sakura fics were an endless source of inspiration, and the way she continues to write, despite flames, negative reviews, and doing what she wants regardless of whatever anyone thinks really amazes me. DrM's not a HP writer, but she's one of the best CCS writers around (400 reviews is good proof, ne?) and her regular checking in on me and her constant reviews on my silly little fanfics always keeps my spirit up. If you happen to be reading this, HUGS and a huge THANK YOU! Hugs and cookies,
-Avril Lavigne, Nobody's Fool
Hermione shivered and drew her robes closer to her. She had tried to keep them in mint condition, but the night's wild chase after that elusive shadow had her robes ripped and the threads snagged in a million places. It was cold, very cold, and the merry noise of Hogwarts Christmas Ball had long faded away. Faster, faster! She urged herself, pushing her limits aside and forging on, ignoring her body's cries to stop and take a rest. That Malfoy had stamina, she had to admit, despite the obvious absence of brains. Suddenly the figure in front of her pulled to a stop, drawing the hood of his dress robes over his head, covering his striking silverish-golden mop of hair. He didn't seem to be out of breath at all. Hermione skidded across the ground, snow spewing silently in all places, and nearly fell onto her palms as the Death Eater crept into the trees of a forest fluidly, making hardly a sound as he left being footprints that would later be swept away by winds. A snowstorm was threatening as dark clouds brew and rumbled ominously over the sky. "Lumos," Hermione whispered to her wand, her heard thudding painfully against her ribcage. Sweat trickled down her face as the tip of her wand threw enough light to see for at least three feet around her. The witch carefully stepped in Draco's bigger footprints, making sure not to disturb any branches that would give her away. He turned back once, suspiciously, but Hermione's petite figure and the nifty little charm that she had conjured beforehand which shrouded her in shadows allowed her to blend into the trees quite well. She wished she could conceal the slight aura still emaneating from her robes, though. It was proving to be quite striking against the darkness. "Master," she heard someone murmur, and she quickened her footsteps, chiding herself. Am I crazy? Insane? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - okay, fine, Voldemort - isn't a big fan of Muggle-descent people like me. He'll kill me on the stop. And yet her curiosity was overpowering. How can he be back? Why is Draco working for him? Who else is working for him? What is he planning? She knew that the information she gleaned from that confrontation would be very valuable to the Ministry of Magic, and the thirst to prove herself to be more than what she was seemed powerful. "Yes, Malfoy." She caught a hiss. Hermione ducked into the dense undergrowth of some evergreens and waited, her blood humming in her ears. An owl broke free of the tree above her, screeching as it lifted into the air, and she barely flinched. After eight years of teaching at Hogwarts and seven years of learning in it, she was accustomed to the sudden, ear-splitting shrieks. Slowly, ever so slowly, and thanking her genes that she had inherieted her mother's thick dark hair, Hermione raised her head over the bush she was crouching in. Her breath caught in her throat. For about ten men and three women were forming a perfect circle. Their robes rustled in the frigid breeze, but otherwise all was deathly still and silent. Draco, marked by the dress robes he donned, darted easily into a break in the circle, directly opposite from Hermione's hiding place. "I'm sorry, Master," he said softly, wind catching and playing with his words. "I was at Hogwarts' Christmas Ball." "Keeping up appearances?" a voice rasped, coming from everywhere and yet nowhere at once. One of the black-cloaked figures moved, pale white hands moving to take down the hood. "Good job, Malfoy." Hermione kept her eyes on the moving figure and the scarred hands. Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the one wizard that everyone feared ... and she was standing barely ten feet away from him. The hood was shaken back to reveal a revolting face that was chalk white against the inky darkness behind him. Blood-red eyes blinked once, and a snake-like nose lifted and sniffed the air. "I sense a Mudblood," he said softly. Hermione froze, not daring to breathe or stir a hair for fear of discovery. Draco glanced up and somehow locked his gaze on hers, sensing her, seeing the dark eyes that were almost - almost - invisible against the branches and leaves. But he saw her, and she saw his eyes mirror the horror and fear she knew was in hers. "I don't, Master," spoke up a female. All eyes went towards her - all eyes save Draco's. "Perhaps it is just the stench from far off, carried here by the winds, winds of forseen ill will and bad news." The way she spoke, lilting and poetic, almost hypnotizing, showed her to be a proper seer of the future. "Perhaps you are right, Chang." Cho Chang?! Hermione wanted to scream. Cho was a perfectly respectable Ravenclaw in their schooldays, a girl that Harry once used to like, a pleasant, pretty witch known for her diplomatic skills and strong powers. In the last days of their seventh-year, Cho had showed some signs that she was a seer, and Hermione had wished her luck in her future endeavours. What the hell was she doing in a circle of Death Eaters? "I have gathered you today to tell you about my plans for the upcoming war." Voldemort spoke, and everyone paid attention, but no one more so than Hermione. Her eyes flicked from Draco's startled grey ones to Voldemort's calm black ones. "Chang will steal the Starflower Mirror," he added at length, after discribing the different raids that would take place. "For those unsure of what the Starflower Mirror is, it's a mirror that reflects any curse, no matter how strong, intense, or powerful. It's not a well-known mirror - in fact, I doubt that anyone knows about it, but it looks innocent and although it's pretty big, it can be easily moved. Position one carefully and a simple curse can be reflected and magnified to kill a whole room of people." "It will be my honor, Darkest Lord of all," mumured Cho. He paused meaningfully and continued. "We will be sending envoys, lesser Death Eaters, to the giants, trolls, and goblins. Perhaps the Veela and other exotic creatures. We have to gain their alliance and acceptance. The Ministry will never know until we are done, and they cannot stand against us all. Which explains the need to be fast and quiet." He directed the last two scathing, emphasized remarks to two hulking forms - Crabbe and Goyle, Hermione assumed. "Of course, one of you ... " Voldemort hesitated, and his eyes lit on Draco. "Malfoy. You will be in charge of getting into Azkaban undetected and alone. Set the prisoned Death Eaters and anyone else you think would help us free. The Dementors will follow you." "Of course, Master." Draco inclined his head gracefully. "I trust that you will do a good choice." "That is a requirement, Master." "The Malfoys have served me well over the years." Voldemort studied Draco. "You're a young man, and you have proven yourself to be as efficient and brutal as your fallen father. Well done, Malfoy. Keep it up. I place my faith in you and Chang most. Live up to that faith." "Thank you, Master, and certainly," said Draco emotionlessly, smoothly. Hermione stiffened, catching Draco's gaze again. This time Hermione's own gaze was cold and empty. Efficient and brutal? You worm. Draco shot a look back, a pleading one. I had no choice. Hermione's eyes hardened even further. We've talked about this, Malfoy, she thought furiously. You always have choices. Voldemort gave Draco another piercing stare, and continued on, talking about deaths, bloodshed, waged battles without a single emotion crossing his face. No remorse. No regret. No fear. Just a matter-of-fact tone of voice, going on and on like poison in the night. Hermione was openly disgusted as he talked of all the important wizarding families of their magical reality. He talked of the Unforgivable Curses, of killing them gruesomely, of keeping them quiet for eternity, of unmentionable deeds. After hours, almost at moonset, Voldemort was done, having assigned all the Death Eaters various tasks and jobs. Nothing, he cautioned again, was to be done until January the first. Preparations should ensue, but the actual undertaking of something was to be done over a span of two weeks - until January the fourteenth. "I should teach you a curse," Voldemort finished. "A curse of extreme pain and eventual death. This might come in handy." Catching sight of the owl returning to its roost over Hermione's head, claws tightened over a writhing rabbit, Voldemort allowed a smile to touch his lips. "Stupefy!" he called out. The stream of light struck the owl, and it lost its grip on the pristine-white rabbit, wheeling away into the sky and branches reaching out. The rabbit tumbled to the grown, ears twitching frightfully. Voldemort aimed the wand at it and muttered, "Engorgio." The vulnerable animal grew to the size of a small deer. "Brekcious." The snapping of bones was like a grotesque wind-chime. Slowly, painfully, every bone in the rabbit's body shattered systematically - from the hind legs up. It scrabbled in the snow frantically, and when its back legs were disabled, the rabbit pulled itself foward with its front paws, letting out squeal after squeal. Neatly, all the bones in its rib cage broke at once, and the rabbit fell into the snow, giving an unholy howl. Then the neck bones snapped and its head lolled to one side, tongue hanging out, the fire in its eyes snuffed out. And as a finishing touch, its skull cracked open into two. They could all see the physical deformation of the rabbit - skin jutted out as a result of all the broken bones. "You may leave," instructed Voldemort. An admiring murmur swept through the circle as the Death Eaters began to drift off in ones and twos. Voldemort himself Apparated and dissipated into the night. And after ten minutes of staring, pointing, and excited whispers, all the other Death Eaters had departed the clearing and most likely the forest, leaving only Draco behind. Hermione stumbled out of her place in the undergrowth and leant over, retching, silent tears skating down her cheeks. "Oh, my God," she shoved out, trying to regain control of herself. Draco walked over and automatically patted her back, trying to sooth the silently sobbing witch. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said quietly. Hermione spun and gave him a stinging slap over the face. "You idiot! You see the devil you're working for! That son of a - " she caught side of the deformed rabbit and turned, retching once again, stumbling and nearly falling into the ice and snow. "I know," he said again. "And that's what he'll do to me if I betray him." "If I were you ... " Hermione turned meaningfully, her entire body shaking. "I would rather go through that than see my best friends die that way." Draco didn't speak for a while. After a few heartbeats of silence, he said, "I know he talked about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley." "He talked about how to kill all the Weasleys," said Hermione tightly. "How to murder Ginny - Ginny! A girl, hardly an adult!" "I know." "Is that all you know how to say?" demanded Hermione, staring at Draco. He refused to meet her gaze, knowing that he'd break down if he did. "Malfoy." Draco seemed to find the snowflakes spiralling down between them fascinating. "Draco Malfoy, I find you a disgusting worm and a complete git to be working for Voldemort. I hate that you don't want to change that." Draco stared out into the night. "I do want to change it, Hermione. I just don't know how." Hermione wasn't in front of him any longer. She knelt over the rabbit, her body racked with sobs, and she reached out a trembling hand to run over the bumps in its skin. Fighting to overcome her fear of what the rabbit had become, Hermione picked it up, nearly kneeling over with its weight. She set it down behind a tree, and using her glove-covered hands, started to silently throw snow over it until it was fully covered. "Malfoy," she said evenly, standing in front of him. "Where are you going to be on January the first?" Draco was quiet, leading the way out of the forest. It was then he made a decision that would probably cost him his life. Hermione could just catch the hushed word. "Azkaban." Maybe Draco's planning on ignoring Hermione? Or is he staging a revolt? I hate cheesy questions like that ... when authors do it .... it ruins the suspense. :P Well ... tired ... and more interested in chatting on MSN (FINALLY! :D) than tapping out an author's note that no one ever reads. :P *huggles* and REVIEW! Hugs and cookies, |