Chapter 9: The Prisoners

Hiya! Here I am again, though – sniff – no one reviews my story except some wonderful people like piper, miss malfoy, amber etc. (TO BE COMPLETED)

What the hell is wrong with it? Well, yes, I know, May/dreaming one might give me really good advises again, but I just can't change my way of writing though I may improve the page setup – I thank you, May, though. At any rate, I'll do my best, and who doesn't review my story SUCKS. Sorry, sorry, that doesn't mean you don't have to read it. I humbly apologize. But please, READ&REVIEW

~Alba

Hermione scanned the debris with horror, unable to take her eyes away from the cute collection of Quidditch player models that had laid on a chest of drawers in Fred Weasley's bedroom and was now only a mass of molten plastic. Then again, there wasn't much that hadn't been burned of torn to pieces in the flat.

Just like in their house, the Weasley twins' flat had been as good as razed to the ground. Furniture, decorations, food, everything was destroyed and irretrievable. It was just inhuman. Then again, Death Eaters and this kind of "people" were inhuman.

"It's intolerable." Harry said rushing towards her after having quickly examined the rubbish that was left of the twins' modest but comfortable home. "Really."

"I'm not sure it's worse than kidnapping Fred and George." Hermione replied bitterly.

Harry stared at her for a moment, and then gave a glance at the disaster in front of him. Then he sat down on the ground, careless of the dirt.

"It's terrible. Terrible." He repeated this word on and on, so that it irritated his wife awfully and she made him be quiet with an impatient wave of her hand and a disdainful glance.

"It doesn't help them in any way if you just stay here and complain about the facts." She said dryly.

"Then what do you propose?" was his ice-cold question.

Hermione hunched her shoulders, and looked away. She should be more patient, sweeter with Harry, after all, he had done nothing wrong.

Nothing wrong but making me unhappy, she thought. But after all, it was her who had accepted his offer of marriage, he hadn't forced her. So it wasn't his fault, it was hers. Her fault if now, she was furious against her husband whom she blamed for his prissiness and lack of dignity.

As if hearing her thoughts, Harry got up, and held his head high, his green eyes piercing the darkness – because of course, the Death Eaters had cut all the electric wires. Then he turned around, his robes flying behind him, and he only said he was going to the Two-Headed Dragon before vanishing.

Hermione Potter stayed in the darkness for a while, sitting down on a piece of wood too, placing her head between her knees. Voldemort had taken away everything, her home, her friends, and all she believed in, her hope. Now, she felt she couldn't blame Harry for losing trust in a happy end and depressing, because she herself felt her trade mark obstinacy for never giving up vanish like Harry had.

Harry.

All she had left.

Voldemort and his Death Eaters had taken away everyone else, maybe, at this hour, her parents were either dead or prisoners of the Dark Wizard. Maybe no one of those she loved was alive by now.

Malfoy.

He had done all this. It was all his fault and she had kissed him, and actually enjoyed it.

She felt anger arising in her again; she felt her blood boiling in her veins. Hermione shot up, and kicked a pillow which had been cut open. The remaining feathers flew up, spiraled in the air, and then fell over Hermione. She closed her eyes, sensing the touch of the feathers on her bare arms, and then vanished as well, following Harry.

***

Lavender slowly lifted her sore head, and saw white points in front of her eyes, so she closed them again. Obviously, someone had either drugged her or knocked her down brutally. It was rude anyway.

"Lavender? Are you alright?"

Stupid question. Of course she wasn't. Passing her long fingers over the ground on which she was lying, she noticed it was wet and dirty, and she shot up with horror. If there was something she hated, then it was mud.

She looked around her, and, in the darkness, hardly saw Dean and Seamus next to her, and she deduced the long brown braid on the ground belonged to Padma or Parvati.

"Dean? Seamus?"

Dean nodded, and said they were both there, with Padma, Parvati, Ron, Ginny and the Weasley twins.

"Neither Parvati nor Fred have woken up." One of the older Weasleys, who had to be George, explained, and looking at him carefully, Lavender saw that a long bruise crossed his face. Seamus bled abundantly from his left shoulder, and Ginny had a large, purple stain on her forehead that showed someone had had to give her a strong blow not very long ago. The tips of Padma's fingers and a strand of her chestnut colored hair were partially burned, while Ron wasn't visibly wounded, but his eyes were surrounded by dark rings. As for Dean, he limped, and all of them looked tired and hungry and thirsty.

"What happened?" Lavender asked.

"Let's see if you guess it." Ron mocked dryly before closing his eyes.

"Shut it, Ron, it's not her fault." George said.

"Death Eaters." Was Padma's quick explanation. "They came in our flats, destroyed everything and made us prisoners. It's that easy to understand."

"You surely have fainted early." Ginny added, not without an inkling of disdain.

Lavender sighed, and turned back to Dean and Seamus.

"Where are we?"

The two men hunched their shoulders.

"I don't know, Lavender, I don't know, otherwise we'd have a chance of getting out of here. But I was brought here unconscious, and, since we lack of windows, I can't orientate myself. We could be anywhere."

"And they took our wands." Ron added. "And for some reason, we can't teleport from here. It must be shielded somehow."

"Merlin, but that's terrible!" Lavender exclaimed.

"Really? It's good you say it, I hadn't noticed it before." Ginny mocked.

"What's wrong with you Weasleys today? We're all tired and hungry, but it's of no use if we quarrel now." Dean said, and concluded the conversation.

They fell into silence again.

"And Harry?" Lavender asked then, while Parvati was waking up slowly.

"He isn't here. Nor Hermione." George replied.

"So they might be safe still, mightn't they?"

Ron gave her a sarcastic glance and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you honestly think there is anyone who's safe now?"

***

"Here, my gringotts-card. My name is Potter."

The receptionist's pleasing features were emphasized by a discrete makeup, but she had the most hypocrite smile Harry had ever seen in his life. Yet her eyes shone when she learned that he was the famous Boy Who Lived And Was Now A Man Who Wasn't Yet Dead Despite You-Know-Whose Efforts.

"What an honor, sir." The receptionist said.

Hermione appeared at his side, and looked at him for a moment. Then she looked away, tears of anger blinding her.

"One double room, please" Harry said.

His wife gazed at him again, drying her eyes, but she clenched her fist and said as firmly as she could:

"Please, Harry, could we have two separate rooms only for this night? I… It's just…"

Harry's expression hardened at once, and his look became ice-cold. Yet he nodded slowly, and asked for two separate single rooms. He handed one of the magic cards to the rooms inside which one could only enter with this card, and then wished her good night. He vanished, leaving Hermione alone in the hall.

She surprised the receptionist smiling again, sadistically this time, and gave her a smirk. Then she asked if they had pajamas to lend, and the receptionist answered they had, not without another variant of her smile which told "here you are, the famous Harry Potter's wife, not even having a pajama to sleep." And Hermione felt awfully humiliated, though things like these wouldn't have worried her some years ago.

I have changed so much during my time with Harry, she thought. And not precisely in a good way.

The receptionist handed her a light pink pajama with a suitable dressing gown and offered her a toothbrush too. Scrambling her last bit of dignity, Hermione accepted, and then vanished as quickly as possible.

Thanks to her magic card, she reappeared in her room, which was quite big and luxurious but looked awfully dull to her, with its ivory-colored walls and the big four-poster bed made of ebony. Then only she reminded herself that one could change the decoration if one wished, and groped for her wand in her coat's pockets. But it wasn't there.

With an inkling of panic, Hermione frantically searched the wand in her other pockets and in her little handbag, but it was nowhere. She vanished and went to the ruins of their apartment; put the debris upside down, without success. She went to the Weasley twins' flat, passed hours looking for her wand, and finally went back to her room, exhausted.

What will I do without my wand? She thought. It's terrible, it's the only thing I can't live without. And what shall I do if someone attacks me? Make a karate kick? Oh, Merlin.

And then she fell asleep.

It's odd, but what woke Hermione up was the darkness.

She had forgotten to switch the lamp off when she had fallen asleep, and, when it suddenly went off, she shot up.

She rubbed her eyes and looked around her, first searching for her wand to say a Lumos spell, and then reminding herself painfully she had lost it.

Her brown eyes scanned the shadows, looking for the switch.

She froze.

She looked again.

There it was. Two round marbles of silver, shining and floating in the dark. Looking closer, she distinguished a glimpse of gold above the silver, and slowly, a face, ghostly pale but of a terrifying attractiveness. The rest of the body was plunged in the obscurity.

"Malfoy?" she whispered, crawling back.

Ohhhh, cliffhanger, am I not? Hehehe. Well, I'm sadistic. But, if there's anyone reading this, know that it's the fault of those who don't review if I end it here…. For the moment. Review, and there will be more of Draco's and Hermione's love story.