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Chapter Twenty Three

…Not Again

Hermione awoke without a pounding headache. This seemed strange to her for some reason. Everything was fuzzy. She tried to move her arms, but they refused to respond. As she drifted back toward consciousness, she seized on one of the thoughts that floated through her head.

Malfoy had kidnapped her.

That pissed her off. At about this point she realized that the reason she couldn't move her arms was because they were tied behind her back. Bastard.

Hermione retained just enough presence of mind not to move. It didn't sound as if there was anyone else where she was, but there was no need to take chances. Well, at least that explained the lack of a headache. One of the (relatively) good things about being knocked out by a Stunning Spell was the lack of a hangover.

Once coherent enough to put this all together, Hermione began to take stock of her surroundings. The smell of diesel fuel and concrete hung in the air, heavy and hot. The air seemed unseasonably warm. She seemed to be lying on a rough mat. She couldn't hear much over the constant dull drone of engines, occasionally broken by a roar of rushing air. She was at an airport, and probably no longer in England. Add it all up, and Hermione knew she was in Palmero, Sicily's airport. Malfoy was probably taking her to whatever piece of property he had out here.

Wonderful. Now that she knew all this, she was still bound and gagged and locked in a trunk. The heavens opened and light poured in from above. Goyle dropped a soft bag on her head. She tried to glare at him, but was unsuccessful because her eyes were still adjusting to the bright Mediterranean sun.

"She's awake sir."

"So?" The trunk closed again. Hermione cursed Malfoy softy, thoroughly and in every language she knew. She was just trying to remember the correct conjugation for a traditional Goblin curse when her anger vaporized, leaving her highly amused at her pedanticness.

The car pulled away with a lurch. They must have gone directly onto a highway, because they were coasting along at a good clip without stopping. Hermione reviewed her mental map of the south of Italy. It was a bit fuzzy, seeing as how she hadn't taken geography since muggle school.

The money stolen from a London bank had eventually been traced to a muggle real estate company in Italy. They still didn't know exactly which piece of Italian seacoast had been purchased because the realtor was challenging their legal authority to access those documents. The entire investigation was bogged down in legal red tape, both magical and muggle. Still there were only a limited number of villas that Malfoy could have bought. Hermione sincerely hoped it wasn't the one across the island in Messina.

Hermione shifted around the trunk, trying to find a reasonably comfortable spot. She didn't have much success mainly because of the bag which occupied about a quarter of the boot. Hermione stared at the darkness. If it weren't for the noise of traffic or the whirr of the engine, she might have been floating in the darkness.

Hermione blinked once, twice, and stared. What she had thought was just the sun's afterimage in her dazzled eyes, was nothing of the sort. Hermione had read the stories of muggle children accidentally getting trapped in the car trunk and of the release on the inside that many cars were now being equipped with. Neither Malfoy nor Goyle could have known what the purpose of this glow-in-the-dark piece of plastic was.

In retrospect, it was one of the stupidest things she had ever done. Without considering that she was in a sedan travelling 60 mph down a highway, Hermione wriggled around and grasped the release. It seemed like the car was going slower than it had before. If she were going to escape, now would be an excellent time.

*wa-chunk!* The trunk opened a crack. Hermione struggled up. It was very awkward trying to move a 2 x 5 ft. space while your hands are tied behind your back, but Hermione managed to get into a kneeling position. The car was definitely slowing down, but Hermione was busy trying to work out how to jump without seriously injuring herself.

Goyle hit the speed bump far faster than he should have. Hermione overbalanced and fell back into the boot, which snapped shut behind her. Hermione breathed out slowly to steady herself, unable to decide whether to be upset at this opportunity to escape denied, or be relieved at being saved from the unpleasant experience of jumping out of a moving vehicle.

The faintly glowing handle of the release dangled enticingly in front of her. If she could just somehow jump without breaking something…

Her plans, however, were ruined by their abrupt arrival at Malfoy's Italian estate. The trunk opened again, pouring sunshine into Hermione's eyes. Unfamiliar bird song floated through the vineyards. Malfoy grinned down at her.

"Welcome to Marsala."

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Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.

.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•.