THE MANOR
Disclaimer: Everything you recognise is JKR's. Everything you don't recognise is mine!!!!!
Chapter 16 – Maybe Not
The two wands pointed unwaveringly at an unruffled Draco Malfoy, who, rather than visibly quaking with fear at the sight of two potentially dangerous wands directed at him, rolled his eyes in a gesture that clearly told Harry and Ron – immature Gryffindor idiots. Inside, though, Draco was divided into several different feelings about the encumbering situation. A quick mental analysis showed the following results:
3/16 impatience (They had to rescue Hermione, and here they were, ganging up on each other?)
1/2 concern and worry (What the hell had happened to make Hermione so upset at him? Upset enough to tell Weasley too!)
1/4 nagging ache (That Hermione had somehow found out about Draco's darker secrets.)
1/16 just a teensy-weensy bit of fear (After all, who knew what two angry adolescents could do with their wands when out of control?)
'Well, explain, Malfoy,' Harry said, his voice coldly determined, green eyes glittering. Harry was just a bit disappointed. Malfoy had actually turned out to be a decent travelling partner – he had known what to do, and seemed to show a real concern for Hermione. The fact that this concern might have been feigned made Harry somewhat disillusioned and frustrated with Malfoy, and the world in general.
'And hurry up,' Ron added shortly.
'Would you explain to me why Hermione thinks I have betrayed her?' Draco demanded coolly.
'Surely you know,' Ron scoffed.
'Humour me,' Draco said with a humourless smile.
'The photo,' Ron said, and began explaining further, but it was enough.
The first two words he spoke had already made any remaining colour in Draco's already pale face drain away completely, and he closed his eyes resignedly for a moment, which made both Harry and Ron move their wands just a little closer.
'Speak, Malfoy,' Harry said angrily, having heard Ron's explanation. He was now even more angry with the pale Slytherin.
Draco sighed resignedly. They wouldn't let him go without an explanation, obviously. 'Try and listen reasonably, with a clear and unbiased mind,' he said, eyes opening slowly. 'And think about what I say before pouncing on me and beating me up. We can't take all day at this,' he added briskly, gaining control on the situation.
Seeing that Harry and Ron's attentions were on him, he began as briefly as he could.
'My father and a couple of his friends, who are probably all stalking around this place right now, wanted to go and capture Hermione in the summer. He wanted to get her so that Harry would get all worried and go after her and save her,' Draco said smoothly. 'I joined the team of invaders. There were four of us in total, and I didn't really have much of a choice. My father thought it would be good training.'
'Training for being a Death-Eater?' Ron asked scornfully.
'Yes, Weasley,' Draco said coolly, one brow raised, as if challenging Ron to beat him up then and there. Harry lay a restraining arm on Ron, eyes firmly on Draco. 'Ah, thank you, Potter,' Draco nodded, and continued. 'I went with them, but Hermione wasn't home. They searched everywhere for Hermione, thinking she must have hidden herself somewhere, and completely trashed the place.'
'Did you do the damage to her room?' Harry asked tightly.
Draco nodded. 'I did. I'm not proud of it,' here, Ron snorted in clear disbelief, 'but I did.'
'So why did you keep the photo of her? As a threat?' Harry asked, green eyes intent. 'She was frightened of the fact that she was missing in particular from the picture.'
'If it were a threat, don't you think you would be missing too?' Draco asked, biting his lip as he spoke. Idiot!
'So why did you keep it?' Harry insisted.
Draco gave a seemingly careless shrug. 'I picked it up by accident.'
'No, you didn't,' Harry corrected him.
Draco's face was a complete mask now. Still, white and impassive. His grey eyes were like crystals, so hard and cold were they. The face of Harry was a complete contrast, flushed with colour in his angry defence of his best friend, and he watched Draco closely, as the pale boy refused to speak.
Finally, Harry gave in. He could do nothing pursuing that subject – he had a feeling that Draco could be stubborn about it. 'Are you helping Hermione?' he asked quietly.
The concern that flared in Draco's normally emotionless eyes could not have been faked. 'I am,' he said seriously.
'And are you helping us?' Harry asked him earnestly.
Draco nodded. 'I am.'
Harry lowered his wand.
'What are you doing, Harry?' Ron asked, incredulous.
Harry sighed. He was trusting Draco. He believed him. Maybe it was because of his sincere concern for Hermione that would keep him from harming him or Ron. Maybe it was because of Hermione's trust for Draco earlier. Maybe, maybe, maybe … for whatever obscure reason, Harry found himself trusting his school enemy of many years. Something …
'Harry?' Ron continued squawking.
'Let it be,' Harry said firmly. Ron locked eyes with his best friend momentarily, then handed Draco his wand grudgingly. Draco took it gratefully, and regained his composure.
'Where is she?' he repeated to Ron.
'We got separated,' Ron said distractedly, wincing as his leg's pain returned in full force.
'I'd gathered that,' Draco said dryly. 'How?'
'We'd escaped,' Ron explained, 'and we were getting lost down here in the dungeons of wherever we are. Where are we, by the way?' he asked absently.
'My home,' Draco said shortly. 'And?'
'Your home?' Ron's eyes boggled. 'This place is huge.'
'I'm aware of that fact,' Draco said, rolling his eyes impatiently. 'And?'
Ron stopped gaping to continue. 'This bunch of Death-Eaters came running around trying to find us. One of them hurt me in the leg, and so I fell against here and found this hiding place, but Hermione had already been knocked out and captured,' Ron said sombrely. 'But I could hear them talking. It was Hermione they were after, not me. Why?' he questioned.
Draco's face was grim. 'You don't need to know,' he said tersely. He sighed, and touched his hand to his chest again. 'Potter. You take Weasley outside, back through the way we came. Use your cloak. Find some place safe to leave him, okay? Then, come back, and go through the dungeons again. See if you can find Hermione.'
Harry opened his mouth to protest.
'Go,' Draco barked. 'We don't have time. You two imbeciles have wasted enough time already.' He strode towards the false wall.
'Where are you going?' Harry demanded even as Draco left.
'To rescue her.'
'Why can't we help?'
The Malfoy smirk popped up inevitably. 'Because I know what to do,' Draco said promptly. 'And you don't.'
***
Hermione regained her consciousness, to find herself lying in yet another prison cell, which looked pretty similar to the first. Momentarily groggy, she sat up swiftly. Not again, she groaned. Except this time she was alone in the cell. She pondered. Maybe that was what Harry had also dreamt about! That she would be lying alone in a cell, looking dead. Again, she felt a sense of satisfaction. She was not dead, although she may have looked it moments before, when lying, knocked out.
Hearing the sounds of footsteps, Hermione quickly slumped down again, trying to look unconscious. She didn't feel like dealing with anybody. Irrationally, she hoped that if she were unconscious again, she wouldn't have to worry any more, but there was no such luck. Although her act of playing knocked out seemed to work, she was picked up, none too carefully, by two wizards dressed in black robes who both smelt like they hadn't taken a bath recently, and lifted out of the cell.
'Careful,' the coarse voice she recognised quickly as Avery instructed as she was bumped along. 'You wouldn't want to get the Dark Lord upset now, would you?'
She was carried just a little more carefully, shifted along a bit, although she shivered a little at the thought that she would be taken to Voldemort.
'I don't see why the Dark Lord wants this girl?' one of the Death-Eaters carrying Hermione snarled.
'What the Dark Lord wants is none of our concern, Javier,' Avery snapped. 'You should know that.
'Shut up,' the other Death-Eater mumbled to Javier, cautioning.
'You shut your gob, Nielsen,' Javier spat out.
Nielsen didn't say anything.
From what Hermione could gather, with her eyes shut as they were, there were certain frictions within the Death Eaters, with a certain hierarchy of sorts. Clearly, Avery was superior to the underlings Javier and Nielsen, a fact that did not please Javier at all.
'She's getting heavier,' Javier muttered as they walked along.
'You're getting weaker,' Avery remarked instead.
Hermione could imagine Javier's scowl. Then, unbidden, a cough rose in her throat, and unable to suppress it, she choked.
'She's awake,' Nielsen exclaimed.
'I know that, you fool,' Avery said impatiently. 'Well, Miss Granger, are you ready?' There was a note of viciousness in his question.
Hermione didn't say anything.
'Come, now, don't pretend to be asleep,' Avery said scornfully. 'We can tell you're awake.'
Hermione did not say a word.
'Be that way, if you please,' Avery said without much concern. 'But you may like to know, little girl, that Voldemort wanted you very badly,' he said, grinning. 'We're bringing you to him now and let me warn you. When Voldemort wants a Muggle piece of scum like yourself that badly, it's not usually a good sign for the Mudblood.'
Hermione shuddered, making Avery laugh crudely.
Before long, the Death-Eaters stopped moving, and Hermione was dumped unceremoniously onto the ground.
'Get up,' Avery ordered bluntly. 'Nobody here's going to treat you any special.'
Hermione opened her eyes and stood up, reluctant to face the bleak world, to find she was in an elegant antechamber, boarded with expensive wood. It was empty, except for a few polished wooden chairs, padded with a luxurious dark green velvet. Yet despite the opulent wealth the room seemed to exude, Hermione could sense an underlying darkness. Maybe it was the flickering of the candles that substituted for light that should normally be provided by the small crystal chandelier. Maybe it was the fact that there were another person in the room aside from Avery, Javier and Nielsen.
'Hermione Granger,' the cold voice of Lucius Malfoy directed itself through the frigid air.
'Lucius Malfoy,' Hermione said, voice dripping with equal, unfeigned distaste.
Lucius Malfoy rapped the wall slightly with his serpent-topped cane. 'Really, you little Mudblood,' he said, his face in a sneer that looked very familiar to Hermione. 'Didn't your parents ever teach you any manners? Refer to your elders courteously. Mr Malfoy,' he rapped the cane lightly, but not without pain, against Hermione's arm.
'Didn't your parents ever teach you manners?' Hermione asked in a flippant manner she knew would annoy Lucius Malfoy. 'Name calling is one of the most childishly rude things one can do,' she said, smiling brightly, calmly ignoring the fact that she had not too long ago extensively spent time calling Lucius' Malfoy's son all manner of creatively vile names.
A flash of irritation crossed the older Malfoy's icy grey eyes. 'Shut your mouth, you filthy little Mudblood,' he spat.
Hermione raised her brow. She could tell where Draco got his behavioural problems from. 'Such language,' she contented herself with saying as imperiously as possible, although inside she did shake a little with apprehensive terror as Malfoy's cane came a little closer. He frowned, but then turned to talk to Avery in muttered tones.
She studied Malfoy snr. He was so similar to Draco – the same grey eyes and the same pale, white-blond hair, although his hair was neater, like some sort of protective shell on his head. His skin was not quite as flawlessly pale as Draco's though, and although his face was sharp and pointed, like Draco's, it was less gentle and more sternly hard. He was taller than his son, but looked less strong, somehow.
It was clear though, to her, that she was in Malfoy's home. He looked too comfortable, and it was all too coincidental, with Draco being involved. Hermione looked around – Malfoy family wealth looked extensive from what she could see.
Avery, with Javier and Nielsen behind him, was talking quietly to Lucius Malfoy. He was a man of medium height, with coarse black hair that was cut short, and blue eyes, sturdily built. Javier was a big man, with very tanned skin, brown eyes and hair, while Nielsen was small and wiry, with thin, mud-coloured hair and watery blue eyes.
They looked pre-occupied with themselves, and Hermione looked at the enticing door through which she had come. It was closed, but did not look to be locked. She sidled closer, all the while glancing at the Death-Eaters, making sure they were not watching her. Maybe she could escape.
A cutting voice stopped her. 'Don't think of running through the door, my dear,' Lucius Malfoy said, sadistically amused. 'That door will only let you through if you are accompanied by somebody of Death-Eater blood. Which you are not.'
Hermione froze in her faltering step.
'Keep going, and you would be incinerated by the sudden magical flames that cover the doorway,' Malfoy said, a cruelly derisive look on his face.
Hermione, angry, turned around, and went back over to Lucius Malfoy and the other Death-Eaters. Avery was looking at another door, a door she had not gone through, while Javier and Nielsen were leaning against the wall with resentful looks on their faces.
'Why am I here?' she demanded to Lucius Malfoy.
He smiled nastily. 'You are here, Mudblood, because the Dark Lord wants you here. And I can tell you now,' Malfoy added silkily, 'that when the Dark Lord wants a Mudblood, it is so that he can kill them, so that he can purge the world of its impurities.'
His eyes were alight with fanaticism, and Avery, Javier and Nielsen gave assorted approving grunts in response.
Hermione trembled inside. She had no doubt that Lucius Malfoy's threat was very real. Voldemort killed Muggle-borns. That was a well-known fact. Her insides turned upside down in squeamish fright at the thought. Would it be a quick death with the Killing Curse, like what Voldemort had done to Cedric Diggory? Or a slow death, a slow torture, using some arcane form of magic? Control yourself, she scolded herself. Voldemort won't kill you, not until Harry gets here.
That thought filled her with even more dread, but she put on a brave face, and scoffed at Lucius Malfoy's words. 'If Voldemort really wanted to "purge the world of it impurities,"' she said, mockingly quoting him, 'he would have to start by getting rid of you. And then wiping himself off the face of this earth.'
Lucius Malfoy's face when white with anger. 'Be quiet!' he shouted, furious. 'Know your place.'
'My place?' Hermione cried out. 'My place is no different from your place!'
Malfoy looked murderously ready to dispose of her, when the other door opened, and a short man Hermione had met before walked out. The man had a shining hand of some silvery substance, and he walked out, back hunched in a position of perpetual subservience.
'Our Lord wants the girl inside now,' Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, announced, looking at Lucius Malfoy, who was glaring at him, rather nervously.
Hermione wondered if this was good or bad. There was no way she wanted to meet Voldemort, but staying outside here with Lucius Malfoy seemed just a little dangerous. However, she had no choice, and Malfoy, with a look of evil delight, pointed, with his cane, for Hermione to go through the door.
'After you,' he said, mock-courteously.
Hermione went in, following Peter Pettigrew, and was in turn, followed by Avery, Lucius Malfoy, Javier and Nielsen. There were other Death-Eaters inside the room she walked into, including one thin-looking Death-Eater with the most obsequious look on his face ever, who she assumed at once was Nott, the Death-Eater Avery was not too fond of.
The room she had been led into was fairly large, and lavishly furnished, with polished wooden boards on the floors and walls. Rich-looking rugs had been thrown onto the floor, and there were several chairs, much like those outside, were scattered about the room, where some of the Death-Eaters sat. Some of the walls were covered with bookshelves, and a fireplace was alive with flame. Again, the chandeliers were not lit, and instead, candles were used, so that again, the room looked menacing.
But the room was not Hermione's main focus of attention. The figure sitting at the large, almost throne-like chair against one of the walls, was.
'Leave us,' the man seated at the chair said.
'But my Lord,' Lucius Malfoy protested. In the presence of his master, he had lost some of the supreme arrogance he had shown earlier.
'Is there any problem, Lucius?' the person asked coolly.
'No, no, my Lord,' Malfoy mumbled.
'And see that you punish Macnair suitably for being so foolish as to let the children escape,' he added callously.
Malfoy nodded vigorously, and then he, and the other Death-Eaters hurriedly left the room, shutting the door behind them, leaving Hermione alone with Lord Voldemort.
Author's notes: Well, well, well … what's Draco going to do to get Hermione out of this?
Very sorry about the lateness of the chapters, but fanfic.net was screwing around. Chapter 14 would've been up at the beginning of the week if fanfiction.net were actually working properly! Anyway, you get three chapters in one go instead, in a last desperate bid to get this all finished before Friday (fat chance). Anyway, next chapter should be up soon … and we get to meet Lord Voldemort himself!!!!!
