Broken Fingers
By ann no aku
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. The quote is from the song Skym by Underworld
Opening Quote:
"Do you still feed the animal?
Your muffled voice
Is air up the side of your head
And the wires come in
Open eyes close us"
Chapter: Two
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"I know better than you think," Lane informed twisting off the cap to her bottle.
"What? What do you mean?" Hermione demanded watching as her friend took a large gulp of the cider.
"My brother was killed a couple of weeks ago. He's a reporter—was an investigating reporter for the London Times. To make a long story short, Josef felt he was on to something—refused to say what (just like him, the bloody fool), then he was found dead in an alleyway between the bookshop and the record store in London—you know the one. Anyway, the autopsy reported that he had died of a heart attack. Honestly, at his age?!"
"I am so sorry!" she gasped knowing all to well what had killed Josef. It was the very thing, the very spell that could have claimed her life only just a few weeks ago as well.
"It's a mystery, Hermione. I am worried that they'll come after me." Lane faked a laugh, but the look in her eyes said she was still frightened. "But I don't even know who they are."
"I don't know what to say."
"Unless your Nancy Drew book can help solve this mystery, there's nothing really to be said. This is why we drink." Lane softly clanged her bottle against Hermione's unopened one. "Could she solve this?"
If Lane's voice hadn't been so full of desperation, she would have laughed from the ridiculousness of the question. Hermione couldn't tell if Lane was serious at first, but the look of the girl's face said all she needed to know. "Where are we headed?" she asked in hope to deter the conversation.
"I don't know. The park is close by."
"You know, a friend of mine had his godfather die just recently." Even saying it sounded unreal.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Lane snapped.
"Don't take your anger out on me!" she cried. "I've had to put up with his self pity all year; I am not going to take yours, too! I am sorry Josef had died, Lane, I really am, but there is nothing you can do but hope that he's someplace better."
"I wasn't aware you were quite so religious, but then how'd I know, haven't seen you in years. Either way, you have no right to be so cold."
"And you have no right to be so selfish!" She regretted the words as soon as they flew from her mouth. Was this the madness she had been harvesting since the beginning of her fifth year? "I am sorry, Lane."
"No, you are right. I am being selfish. Let's finish our drinks."
But I haven't even touched mine, she thought before rushing to remove the jagged lid. The cider was bitter to taste. Much like my mood, she mused.
The silence between them grew almost as thick as the years of no correspondence they've shared. They just walked with no real destination in mind, only drinking to drown the sorrows of past weeks. After learning the death of Josef, Hermione was not at all surprised that Lane had decided to call her earlier, although she as shocked to hear the 'how' of his death. Not a single doubt about whodunit floated about her busy mind.
Josef was probably trailing Death Eaters. Ever since the Muggle population had been aware of the escape of 'Black' and the vagueness of the report, suspicion has infected everyone like a plague. Now with the Dementors gone from Azkaban and all the prisoners free, no one is safe anymore. Once again the old sport of Muggle torturing has been revived. And I thought Voldemort didn't care about them enough to permit the cruel games! Hermione's ideas of the 'why' Josef was murdered kept hitting her tidal wave after tidal wave. It's really not a wonder why she still calls me Nancy Drew, she thought smiling inwardly as to how well the description fit her.
Before long, the two reached the park they had used to play when they were much younger. Never before had it looked so desolate. It could have been the dark clouds betraying the summer's air, or jus their pathetic moods. The once multi-colored merry-go-round had turned red with rust, and the old blue seats of the swings had grown moldy with age and rain. They dumped their new empty bottles in a trash bin and sat tiredly at the wooden picnic table.
"I can't believe he's dead. He's never coming back."
"I understand," Hermione comforted feeling the drink go straight to her head. How quickly had she drunk the one liter bottle?
"How could you?" Lane rounded also affected by the drink.
"Well, I almo' died, y'know. Oops . ." she covered her mouth in embarrassment.
"What?"
"Um, I almos' died. I can't re-ember much, just bein' knocked unconscious. But there was this guy standing over me shouting curses."
"Like hexes?"
"N-No," she lied feeling the boiling blood rush to her cheeks. "Well, I forgot exactly what happened, but I survived."
Lane laughed covering her mouth as if to stop the mirth of giggles from escaping. "Obviously."
"Obviously what?"
"Two things, Miss Drew: one, you are obviously alive; two, you are obviously tipsy."
"Tip-sy?"
"Yeah."
"Have I said too much?"
"About what?"
"N-Nothing," she whispered.
"I'd like to know what Josef was investigating. Would you like to help me?" Lane offered sounding the most sober she had all evening.
"We're just children."
"I know. They wouldn't kill us, would they? Could they kill us?"
"We're not immortal," Hermione retorted.
"You may not be, but I plan on living forever."
Hermione was instantly reminded of the Dark Lord. She could have eve sworn that Lane's voice had changed to His. Was it just her, or was Voldemort haunting her even when she wasn't sleeping? Suddenly Harry's nonsensical paranoia made sense, and that was the last thing she could remember thinking before awaking on an oddly familiar floor just mere hours later it had seemed.