I know, I know. This chapter is way overdue. Save your complaints. I tried. I really did.
This chapter is strictly from the captives' (a.k.a. Hermione and Jordan to be precise) point of view. The next chapter will take place at the same time, but on the other side of the spectrum like the Order's and Aidan and Draco's. I took a little bit of artistic license on Hermione's past. One reviewer pointed out a while ago that she needed real life experience or something. Well, I think all those brushes with death in her years at Hogwarts sufficed as "real life" experience, but this bit comes before Hogwarts. I don't know where the idea popped up.
IMPORTANT NOTE: I may have led you some of you to believe one captive was killed per night, which meant Hermione would have her turn on the 13th or 12th (depending on whether Jordan lived long enough to be tortured) night. That is not how it happened. Drusilla killed some in multiples just for my selfish reason of not wanting to deal with so many characters and to get this out sooner. Some words are spoken in French, as one of the captives is a French slayer-witch. I used an online translator (due to my knowing about seven or eight words in French) and the translations are at the end of the chapter.
NEW NOTE as of 7/23/05: Fortunately for me, one of my reviewers is French! She gave me the correct translations and French dialogue I used. Thank you to Vld!
THIS IS DEDICATED TO: All my reviewers and readers who had to put up with the crappy updating. And my brother, Damien, who will turn eleven on the 16th of June. Perhaps he'll get a letter from Hogwarts. He would love that.
As much as Hermione hated to break promises, she had come to realize her promise to Jordan would go unfulfilled. Even though the fever-ravaged girl probably had not heard Hermione's vow to get them both out of this, she still felt like she was letting her friend down. Good Gryffindor that she was, she was always one to honor her word.
Walking about their cramped, dirty cell with the stench of human excrement starting to completely take over, Hermione pondered, in an odd objective way, how much agony she would be forced to endure before the sweet release of death would take mercy on her. She had already heard the screams of her fellow comrades—though she did not know any of them, she considered them comrades due to their being slayer-witches and being in the same sorry situations—as they suffered the hospitality of their demented hostess. How many girls were to die? Thirteen, was it? Both Drusilla and her lackeys had called her "Lucky Thirteen", signifying to Hermione that she would be last. Would she be eventually killed and left to decay or would she be turned into one of those fiends?
Hermione would much rather die a thousand deaths than have her soul ripped from her body and be forced to exist as one of the very things she was supposed to kill. In a more sinister light, she was terribly afraid she would be implicated in Voldemort's schemes and be used against her friends.
She also wondered what would become of Jordan. As morbid as it made Hermione feel to think it, after grimly assessing her friend's condition, the possibility of Jordan dying within a day or two or even sooner was becoming more and more glaringly plausible. If that were the case, Hermione sincerely hoped her friend was safely encased within a better world inside her dreams than where her body was in reality. At least she would die without ever having to know what happened. Hermione almost wished their positions were switched, but she knew she could not wish a predicament like hers, knowing a drawn-out agonizing end was in the near future, on anyone.
Tiring herself out, Hermione slid down next to her cellmate and laid a hand over her head to stroke her matted auburn hair. Having finally accepted her impending demise, she no longer felt grief or despair, only a hollow numbness that made her feel cold from top to bottom. There was nothing she could do and judging by the lack of help from the outside world (she still could not judge how much time had passed), her friends could do nothing to help her either. Not even Dumbledore, with all his wisdom and knowledge, could save them. She did not doubt that he had tried his best along with Buffy and her gang, but it seemed their best had fallen short of success.
"I never told anyone this before, not even Ron or Harry, but I'd wager it no longer matters," Hermione began in a slow, monotonous voice, her cold brown eyes taking on a glazed, distant look.
"Two years before I got the acceptance letter from Hogwarts, my baby sister died in the hospital."
"See, my mum and dad always had problems trying to get pregnant. They went through a lot of miscarriages before they had me, and they were still pretty young. When my mum got pregnant again, it was regarded as almost a miracle, a gift from God. They were so happy they were going to have another child when once they believed they were going to have none. And I was so excited about getting a little brother or sister to play with and take care of," she continued, her voice still devoid of emotion.
"My mum was only five months along when she went into labor. We were both out shopping and her water just broke right in the middle of a checkout line. I was only eight at the time, so I really didn't understand what was happening, but I was so scared. But my mum, she was…calm and collected about it. She politely asked for someone to call for a doctor. Can you believe it? She just quietly asked for one even though she had every right to go into hysterics. It's absurd, I know. I didn't understand until a few years later that she did it for my sake. She hadn't wanted to scare me by losing control; she wanted to be strong for me."
Gradually, Hermione's voice had transcended from its icy-cool tone to a sad nostalgic air as she recalled the events she had never spoken of once in the nearly nine years since they had happened. Suddenly pouring it all out to a person who could not even hear let alone respond was a strange relief. She imagined this was what many dying people felt like when they were confessing all their sins to a priest for their last rites. Though what Hermione was speaking of was assuredly not a sin.
"I didn't know what was going on and nobody was telling me anything. My grandparents and my aunts and uncles were in the waiting room with me as well as quite a few cousins, but everyone was being extra careful not to upset me or enlighten me. All I wanted was to see my parents. I never guessed that something was wrong with the baby…I thought it was just something wrong with my mother. I remember holding onto the pack of nappies while it all happened. I know, it was early to think about nappy changing, but I wanted my mother to teach me how to do it so I could help her when the baby came. We were supposed to practice on dolls that day when we got home."
"After a couple hours, I was sleeping on my grandfather's lap still clutching the nappies to me when I was awoken by my father. His eyes were red and puffy and there were streaks of tears on his cheek. Everyone else was crying too and I thought something horrible had happened to my mother. When I asked if she was alright, he had told me she was fine. Then I didn't understand why everyone was crying and I asked why. He then took the nappies from me and handed them to my grandfather and picked me up."
Her voice faltered for a moment as her cool resolve began to weaken even more. She had no idea why she was saying all of this now, of all times. Why was she forcing herself to relive such painful memories when she should have been busy filling her mind with the best and most enjoyable?
Maybe it was because she was subconsciously desperate to thaw out the numbness that had been steadily spreading throughout her entire form. Digging up all the grief she had long since buried and nearly forgotten was sufficient enough to combat her coldness. Hermione never liked feeling cold inside. The mark of a true Gryffindor is one who can never be without at least a smidgen of emotion much less passion for very long.
"As he carried me to where they were keeping my baby sister, though I did not know she had been born yet, my father explained about how babies took a certain amount of time to develop inside their mothers and it was not healthy if they came out too early. They were not ready yet to live in this world and most of the ones that were born real early died. I was a bookish…erm…bright child even then, and I knew it was not time for my little brother or sister to be born. I asked if my mother's baby had come too early and he said yes. He told me then that I had a baby sister, but she was very sick and the doctors said she was not likely to survive the night."
"When we got there, I saw my mother sitting in a wheelchair beside a thing that looked to me like a plastic cage with armholes. My mum looked positively awful; she was pale, exhausted, and she looked so…sad. She had been crying too, but she smiled when my dad brought me in. I wanted to sit on my mum's lap and try to make her feel better, but my dad wouldn't let me. He asked me if I wanted to see my little sister and I told him that I did. I was so unprepared…I didn't think about it, obviously, I was only eight, I expected to see the babies I had seen whenever my aunts and uncles showed me my newborn cousins. It's so ironic how you can be so clever with books and knowledge, but so clueless about reality and how harsh it can be."
At this point, Hermione felt her throat constrict with withheld sobs and a few tears slid down her cheek. Jordan merely coughed loudly for a few moments before settling back down into her ragged breathing state.
"She was so tiny and she didn't look very human at all and she had all these horrible tubes sticking out of her. At first I thought it was all some horrible joke they were playing on me by replacing my sister with…that. I mean, that creature just could not have been my baby sister! They did convince me eventually, but it was still hard for me to swallow. I remember even thinking at the time that if she was going to look like that maybe it was better for her to die. People would make fun of her, but I would still love her because she was my sister," she stammered, her voice tremulous.
Before going on, Hermione muttered to herself ashamedly, "I was such a stupid child."
She swiped at her eyes and then cleared her throat. "My parents named her Mara Rose Granger; she and I shared the same middle name. She was such a strong little thing, but her heart only held out till a few minutes after sunrise. I remember watching my mum rock back and forth with her for the last few hours of her life. My father…he couldn't stay to watch and I remember watching him walk out with his hands over his face. I had never seen my father cry before that night."
"I tried really hard to stay awake, but I ended up falling asleep in my grandfather's arms. When I woke up, Mara was already gone. I had never felt more ashamed of myself or more like I had done something incredibly wrong when I found out I hadn't been there beside my mother when my sister passed away. It's a strange way for an eight-year-old to feel, I know. I couldn't look my parents in the eyes for weeks afterward; I just immersed myself completely in my books and schoolwork. I suppose I found an escape from my parents' grief and my own, in a way, through that medium. I had always been concerned about following rules and staying on top of my studies, but after my sister died I became almost obsessed with it."
Smiling nostalgically, Hermione said, "It changed a bit when I came to Hogwarts and met Harry and Ron. I don't know if the two of them ever told you how we became friends, but we weren't exactly best mates in the beginning of our first year. In fact, it all started with me overhearing them, Ron to be specific, calling me a bossy know-it-all or something like that. Isn't that crazy? The two of us bickered the most, but now I see it was because we fancied each other and didn't want to admit it."
Hermione sighed miserably and rested her head on her knees, her greasy, tangled brown curls spilling over her shoulders. Though she would have given just about anything for just one last glimpse of her boyfriend, Harry, her family, or any of her other friends, she did not make the often misguided wish of having them here beside her…unless they were going to liberate her. Though she had no clue as to what was going on with her friends and family while she was incarcerated here, she hoped they were not putting themselves in undue risk to rescue she and Jordan and the other girls. She was very worried about what Harry might do, judging from his previous actions in regards to someone he cared about being in danger. Harry had nearly been killed and the Wizarding World could not afford to lose him. He was their last weapon, their last hope against Voldemort. If Ron, Harry, or anyone else she knew and cared about got hurt in trying to rescue her, she would never be able to live with herself.
Hermione felt rather than heard Jordan's breaths get shallower and raspier. A jolt of fear propelled Hermione out of her temporary melancholia and leaning frantically over her sister-slayer. Hermione rolled the sick girl over onto her back and laid her head down to the girl's chest to listen as her stressed lungs struggled to bring in oxygen. The girl coughed violently and Hermione, though weakened, managed to lift her up into a sitting position to thump on her back as hard as she could as if Jordan were suffering cystic fibrosis—though her condition was remarkably similar at the moment.
"Come on, Jordan," Hermione urged desperately. "You can't leave me here alone.
Her coughs eventually subsided, but her breathing failed to deepen and even out, which did nothing to ease Hermione's anxiety. Her hands shook as she searched her exhausted brain for a way to help her friend bring in more air. But, with limited resources and being as ravaged as she herself was, no solution was forthcoming. Perhaps Jordan would die sooner than Hermione had anticipated. Or maybe Hermione had just been relying on blind hope that her friend would live a bit longer and had been fooling herself.
The sound of a distinct popping sound caused Hermione to shriek in surprise in spite of herself. When her swollen brown eyes set upon the source of the sound her mouth went agape in complete astonishment. She had to rub her eyes about two dozen times in shock before the red-gold plumage of the majestic phoenix registered in her mind. Was this some sort of an illusion? Had she finally succumbed to the madness born of isolation and despair? Could she even dare to hope that help had finally arrived?
"Jinx! How did you get here?" she gasped after finding her wayward voice. What Hermione would have known had she not been in such a desolate state was that phoenix magic operated on a level far beyond that of humans. Most magical barriers were not strong enough to keep a phoenix from where it wanted to go. Not only that, but they had uncannily strong connections with the few humans they bond with, which explained why Jinx was able to find Jordan.
More time must have passed than Hermione had originally thought; a few days before they returned home for Christmas holiday Jordan had casually remarked on it being so unfortunate is was Jinx's "fireball" time. It usually happened twice a year for her phoenix (it was different for every phoenix) and the period of being in a helpless newborn state lasted anywhere from a week to a month for Jinx.
The mystical avian creature preened herself almost lackadaisically for a while before looking curiously around her surroundings. Hermione almost imagined a look of utmost anger and horror on her friend's pet at the grim situation. Jinx turned her golden eyes back on the two girls and fluttered over to her young mistress. She prodded Jordan softly with her beak, crooning anxiously.
"Oh, Jinx. You can't heal her, I'm afraid. It's an illness inside," Hermione choked out, realizing the phoenix had been searching for a wound in which to heal so her mistress could be well again.
Phoenixes are remarkably intelligent creatures; far more intelligent than they are willing to let humans know. Hermione would have already known this due to Fawkes's impeccable timing where he helped Harry battle a basilisk and the sixteen-year-old manifestation of Voldemort back in their second year. Of course, phoenixes also know they cannot come to the rescue every time their foolish humans get into trouble; only when it is a last resort. Besides, according to Dumbledore, what had really called Fawkes to Harry was his loyalty to the aged headmaster and not because of a bond between the boy and bird. Jordan, however, did possess a bond with Jinx.
Jinx flew over to the water bowl half-filled with stale water and held her head over it. Fat, pearly teardrops splashed into the water, barely making a sound. In her half-hysteric condition, it took Hermione a few moments to understand what Jinx was doing before she gasped and scrambled over to where the phoenix was. She clasped her hand to her mouth and tears stung her eyes as the hope she had thought lost a while ago found its way back to her.
"Oh, Jinx! You wonderful, brilliant bird! You're a genius!" Hermione cried, hugging the ethereal creature impulsively.
With shaking hands, Hermione lifted the bowl to take to Jordan, but a slight tugging sensation halted her in her tracks. Jinx flew up to perch up Hermione's shoulder and made a gesture with her head by pointing towards the bowl and then back to Hermione. This made the witch quite perplexed and her temporarily slow-witted mind took a while to catch on.
"You—you want me to drink it too? But I'm not ill," Hermione protested.
After Jinx made the motion again, Hermione finally decided she could drink a little bit of it just to appease the creature and then take care of Jordan. She took a few sips of the water she had sought to so carefully conserve in fear of it being the last bit of water she would ever have. The phoenix tears had given it no taste per se, but it tasted tremendously fresher and cleaner and altogether far more refreshing than when it had been brought. The young witch allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of the cool water on her tongue and sliding down her throat, soothing her frayed nerves and allowing her mind to clear.
Something began to trickle back into Hermione's body, but at first she was oblivious to it. When she noticed the peculiar feeling her brow furrowed in puzzlement until her brown eyes widened in surprise and joy. Her strength was returning to her! The tears of the phoenix had reversed the detrimental effects of the Cruciamentem drug! So astounded she was at the unexpected reaction, she nearly dropped the water bowl, but she was fortunate enough to have at least that much control at such a precarious moment. She might have been dressed in filthy clothes, her hair might have been matted and greasy, her face might have been smudged with dirt and tears, and she might have emitted a very pungent odor, but she was beginning to feel more like herself again, slayer strength and all. Whoever had invented the clichéd saying of never knowing how precious something is until you lose it had been dead on target. She had never known true helplessness until being stripped of her wand and her slayer powers. It was a sensation she was not particularly eager to experience again.
Jinx made an odd clucking sound—a rather impatient one—to let Hermione know she was wasting time reveling in her newly returned slayer powers. It put a supreme damper on her spirits when the girl was forced to remember where she was and how much danger she was still in. Even with her slayer strength, it would be impossible for her to escape this place, outnumbered as she would be, alone. It was extremely fortunate she was not the only slayer here and there was a possibility a few other slayer-witches were still alive, trapped and bereft of their wands and slayer powers and maybe even hope. Hermione made a vow to herself (she was also relieved her vow to Jordan might be honored after all) that she would rescue as many as she could and hopefully use Jinx to restore their strength.
She sat the bowl down beside Jordan and lifted her head into her lap. Picking the bowl up, she tipped Jordan's head up and poured some of the sloshing liquid into her mouth. Instinctively, the auburn-haired witch lapped it up and swallowed it, though she did not awaken. After drinking about three times the amount Hermione had imbibed, Jinx tugged on Hermione's sleeve to indicate for her to stop.
At first, nothing noticeable to Hermione appeared to have occurred and she began to think Jordan had been too far gone for even phoenix tears to help. Yet, gradually, color began to return to Jordan's pallid face and her breathing deepened until it reached its normal healthy volume. Hermione's breath hitched in her throat when she saw her friend's eyelids flicker open and shut for a few moments before snapping open completely. No haze of fever could be found there, though there was initial disorientation as there usually is right after waking up from a particularly long slumber.
Eyes of honey brown alight with confusion stared into wet, tearful chocolate brown eyes brimming with relief. Furrowing her brow, Jordan spoke the first coherent words Hermione had heard in what seemed to be an eternity, "Hermione, why are you in my room? You know it's real creepy to stare at someone when they're sleeping. And, I'll have you know, I was having a very lovely dream with a very nude Johnny Depp."
Hermione let out a half-sob, half-hysterical laugh and tears slid down her face. She helped the very bewildered and slightly annoyed Jordan to sit up and get a first glance at where she had been staying for the time being. The transition of expressions on Jordan's face was almost comical as she finally became acquainted with what had been going on during her psuedo-coma. Now stripped of the illusion of being in her own room, Jordan sharply whipped her face towards her friend in acute distress and perplexity.
"What the hell? Why am I not in my bed?" She sniffed herself and grimaced as it were painful. "And why do I smell like shit?"
"You have no idea what's happened to us?" Hermione asked. She knew Jordan had been out of it, but surely she could have subconsciously picked up some of what had transpired.
"Uh, no, I was a little bit preoccupied. What has happened to us? Oh Merlin! Voldemort got us, didn't he?" she said in horror, her face paling again.
Hermione sighed and scooted a bit closer to her friend. "I don't know. I do know this is a stronghold of some sort of Drusilla's and some man who can do magic without a wand I could see is responsible for us being here."
Hermione quickly ran through everything that had happened to her and the little she knew multiple times until Jordan finally absorbed all of it. Needless to say, the other girl was beginning to wish she had never awoken from her erotic dreams for they had been monumentally more enjoyable than the stark reality she had awoken to. The girl buried her head in her hands and moaned into them for a while saying, "Oh god," over and over in despair before lifting up her face to look at Hermione.
"You do mean the Drusilla, right? As in the vampire-on-continual-crack and with nails like razor blades?" she asked, a wild sort of hope in her eyes. Hermione loathed having to quash that hope.
Hermione frowned and inquired succinctly, "What other Drusilla do you know of?"
Hearing this only made Jordan return her head to its previous position of being covered by her hands while she began to moan all over again. Hermione wanted to let Jordan take time to come to terms with the situation as she had done, but they were on a tight schedule here. From the tiny window, Hermione could discern that it was still daylight, but from the constant blanket of clouds blocking the rays of the sun, she could not tell what time of day it was.
"Jordan, listen to me, we have to get out of here. Jinx's tears reversed the Cruciamentem drug on me and it probably did the same for you, if you were actually injected with it. They probably figured it had been no use and they would have been right had it not been for Jinx," Hermione said firmly, grasping the girl's bony shoulders.
"No use?" Jordan whispered. Then her eyes widened in realization. "Holy shit! My flu is gone! Jinx, you kick ass!"
Hermione gave her a very solemn look and murmured, "You must have had pneumonia as well. I thought you were…."
Jordan looked away and breathed in deep to collect herself and digest all that she had been through without her knowledge and how close she had been to death. She had honestly had no recollection of subconsciously knowing what was going on, but it was possible she had known. Perhaps she had called out to Jinx in her dreams. She wondered how everyone at home and abroad was dealing with this and what they were doing to find she and Hermione. Obviously, they had not been very successful because Jinx had beaten them to it. She sighed and rubbed her eyes before shakily rising to her feet.
"Careful," Hermione cautioned.
"I'm alright," Jordan replied flatly.
On her feet, she surveyed the small cell more closely and groaned. "If we do get out of this, my brother and father will never let me out their sights again."
"Ron and Harry will probably follow me around like bloody hawks," Hermione returned sardonically.
Jinx fluttered up to settle on her mistress's shoulder and nipped her affectionately. Jordan smiled faintly and caressed the bird while whispering, "You saved my life, girl. Thanks."
Both slayers' bodies tensed when they heard gruff voices speaking outside of their cell. Jordan's head swiveled towards Hermione in alarm and she quickly backed up against the wall when the vampire guards stopped in front of their cell. Hermione could see them through the bars and she clenched her teeth in anger and balled her fists, grateful for her restored strength so she could have the satisfaction of beating those bastards to ashes, though they were not directly or even very indirectly responsible for her abduction or incarceration. She barely caught Jordan shaking her head at her, as if she could sense what Hermione had wanted to do.
Hermione's breathing quickened in pace when she heard the creaking of another cell door being opened. She had not known another cell was so close to hers. She had certainly not heard any peep from any neighboring cells. They probably had tortured and killed all the girls in the cells farther away from hers and were now starting on her section. Jinx could not have shown up at a more opportune moment because they could save this poor girl (or girls) from a bloody and painful fate and themselves in the process.
Jordan made some indecipherable motions with her hands that made Hermione mouth "What?" in question before Jordan just threw her hands up in frustration and strode over to the door and clapped her hands on the thick iron bars that formed a small window to the shadowy corridor.
"Hey! Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumbass!" she announced, just loudly enough for the two vampires to hear her but not loudly enough to reverberate throughout the whole compound.
The undead creatures paused in their activities to turn their attention to Hermione and Jordan's cell where the insulting voice had originated. One of the creatures started walking over to their cell and Jordan signaled for Hermione to move out of sight, which, fortunately, she understood immediately. The vampire stopped right in front of the window and scowled at the slayer-witch on the other side of the door, which was glaring back at him.
"Excuse me? Did you have something to say?" he growled.
Jordan forced her voice to remain devoid of fear, a very hard thing to do, and surveyed the creature coldly. "I, uh…"
This is the problem, idiot. You never think things through all the way. Finally she muttered, "Screw it," and her hand shot through the iron bars to grasp the vampire's neck, lift him up off his feet, and smash him forward into the doorway with such force he was knocked unconscious. She dropped his literally dead weight to the floor and gulped uncertainly.
Hermione shrieked, "What are you doing? They'll all hear us!"
Jordan gave her a helpless shrug and backed away from the door as the other vampire instantly appeared in all his snarling glory. He was nearly frothing at the mouth as he hurled vicious insults at the girls and foolishly unlocked and subsequently swung open the cell door, incidentally unleashing the two powerful young women inside.
Right when the door swung open, Jordan laughed in surprise and delight at that bit of luck for now they would not have to break it down and drawled at the irate vampire in the doorway, "Now, really, that was even stupider than what I just did."
Before he could realize his foolish mistake, Hermione yanked him inside and slammed him against the wall. Recognizing this as the vampire who had pulled the sickly Jordan right out of her arms and pushed her away so easily, Hermione unleashed all of her fury through her small fists as she pummeled the creature into near unconsciousness stopping only at the sound of Jordan's voice.
"Jesus, hold him still, would you? I got a sword from the other dude," Jordan instructed in an amused voice.
Hermione reluctantly allowed Jordan to behead the vampire she so desperately wanted to pummel. She remained there, her face heated and red from anger and her eyes threatening to secrete salty tears of rage. Faith had certainly been accurate in letting your emotions of primal rage and power take over giving you quite a rush. Hermione could feel her blood thrum as her heartbeat increased and strength and rage flooded her limbs.
"Feel any better?" Jordan asked hesitantly.
"No!" Hermione responded crossly. "That was incredibly foolish of you! We could have alerted the entire place and then all the minions would be on us!"
"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Jordan protested, shrugging her shoulders in the obtuse way of all who fall into a pile of dung and come out smiling like roses. Jordan had an uncanny knack for doing that, it seemed.
"We're just lucky this one happened to be extremely thick and didn't call for back up!" Hermione had, of course, been referring to the pile of ashes on the floor.
After allowing herself a few moments to calm down, she picked up the metal weapons that remained from the pile of ashes and turned to her sister-slayer. "Was that the only weapon on him?"
"Oh, no, he's still got some daggers and shit strapped on," Jordan returned nonchalantly.
Hermione frowned. "You didn't kill him?"
Jordan shook her head. "Not yet."
Hermione stomped her foot in frustration. "Why not?"
The other girl shrugged and replied, "He's close to my size."
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment to try and discern if she had heard right. With her gaze fixated on the other girl, she spoke quite coolly, "Excuse me?"
"Oh come on, Hermione! You, at least, were awake to go in a corner or whatever! I am not walking around in these filthy pants! I mean, that's just gross," Jordan explained, as if it should have been obvious.
Hermione merely shook her head and rolled her eyes as Jordan changed into the slightly baggy, but moderately clean pants of the vampire guard and discarded her own by throwing them back into the cell. There was really nothing more that could be done about their unpleasant hygienic status at the moment. Understandably, it was quite the least of her concerns at the moment. If they got out of this hellhole, then they could worry about getting themselves cleaned up and bask in the sensation of being back with their friends and family.
Her separation from Ron was beginning to sting more noticeably and she realized she wanted to get back to him most of all. Knowing him and his temper as well as she did, they had probably had to administer sleeping potions and she seriously was not flattering herself on this. If it were Harry, he would probably be worse. A smaller, but still substantial, part of her was also deeply concerned over what her best friend might be doing. She hoped Harry was handling this better than when he believed Sirius to have been captured by Voldemort. If not, she hoped Dawn or Buffy were able to keep him tethered, so to speak.
"You know, I have never been happier to have fallen asleep in my day clothes. It would really suck to have to go about this place in bare feet, though I guess I could steal some vamp's shoes too," Jordan remarked, as she tied her shoes back on.
She took all the weapons the vampire carried, thanked him almost sincerely, and then killed him with a swift swing of his blade.
"Okay, I'm ready to leave now," Jordan announced after strapping on some of the daggers.
"Wait, we have to rescue the other girls," Hermione reminded her
"Other girls?" Jordan repeated, her face looking crestfallen. "Oh, right. Other girls." Apparently, Jordan had forgotten about the other slayer-witches.
Hermione reached out to touch her friend's arm. "We can't just leave those that are still alive here."
"I know," Jordan responded defensively. "It's just…never mind. You're right, let's get them."
Hermione walked over to the cell door beside the cell she had occupied and noticed it had been shut and locked again. She peered inside the darkened area and searched for a sign of human life. There was, auspiciously, enough light to ascertain the crouched figure of a girl in the far-right corner of the cell. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and her head was resting on her arms, face down. Hermione could detect the sounds of weeping and though she could hear the girl whimpering words, they were spoken so low even her slayer-enhanced ears could not tell what they were.
"It's alright. We're going to get you out," Hermione told her in a kind voice.
The girl's head lifted up and she stared at Hermione, trying to figure out what to make of her. She did not answer back, but rose to her feet and tried to back further into the wall, a useless technique Hermione had often employed. The girl said something, but it was not in English; it was French. Hermione may not have fully understood the words, but she caught the tone quite well. The girl was plainly terrified and in the throes of hysteria.
"Jordan, come here. I don't think this girl understands English. I think she only speaks French," Hermione said, beckoning her friend over.
Carrying the keys and with Jinx perched on her shoulder to alert them well ahead of time if any enemy should come near (though they would most likely sense it as well), Jordan strolled over and looked inside at the frightened young slayer-witch.
"Pourquoi ne me foutez-vous pas la paix, bande de salauds? Je sais pas si vous êtes avec eux ou des illusions, mais si vous êtes avec eux, dépêchons d'en finir. Vous avez déjà pris l'autre fille, pourquoi pas moi aussi? Amenez-vous! S'il vous plaît!" the scared young girl cried.
Hearing this, Jordan sighed and turned to Hermione to say, "She thinks we're one of them or we're illusions, she's not certain which, but she wants us to stay away from her. They took the girl who was staying in the cell with her already and she thinks we're here to take her next."
"Well, tell her we're one of the slayer-witches and we've been captured too, but we've found a way out. Tell her we're not going to hurt her," Hermione instructed.
"Nous sommes des sorcières et des meurtriers de vampires, comme vous. Nous avons été capturés aussi, mais nous pouvons avoir trouvé une fuite. Nous ne vous voulons dire aucun mal n'ayez pas ainsi peur," Jordan relayed (almost verbatim) in a placating tone, but with undertones of frustration and anxiety.
Her words, however, had no effect. The girl was still too traumatized and scared to believe help had actually arrived at her cell. Jordan shook her head despondently and muttered, "She still thinks we're trying to trick her. She wants us to drop the ruse and leave or kill her already."
"Well, there's not much she can do about it anyway. I'd wager her slayer strength is gone like ours was and we have a key anyway. Just open the door and let her see Jinx; she might believe us if she sees a phoenix with us," Hermione said, getting impatient. They did not have the luxury of time for such things.
Jordan slid a key into the lock and slowly creaked the door open to reveal herself and Hermione in full. The girl initially moaned in terror and despair and slid to the corner while sobbing, truly believing she was to be taken to her doom. When she glanced back up, muttering some French prayer, her dark eyes rested on Jinx atop Jordan's shoulder and her breath suddenly caught in her throat. Jinx flew over to land by the girl and crooned encouragingly. The girl was at first just as astonished as Hermione had been to see the phoenix, but then she began to cry in relief. She rose to her feet and threw herself into Jordan's arms while sobbing and babbling in gratitude.
"What's she saying?" Hermione asked, wishing she had thought to learn more of the musical language.
Jordan stroked the girl's head and whispered soothingly to her in French. While holding the girl, she smiled at Hermione and said, "She's calling us her saviors."
It had been quite easy to coax the French slayer-witch—Monique was her name—into drinking the water enhanced with the healing power of phoenix tears. The dark-skinned beauty almost cried again when she felt her strength wash away the fatigue and weakness invading her body as it re-rooted itself back into her being where it belonged. She cracked the first true smile Jordan had seen since she and Hermione liberated—well, partially liberated—her.
Hermione stood guard at the doorway, impatiently tapping her fingers against the arm she had crossed over her chest. They were quickly losing valuable time to find as many survivors as they could and she had the faintest inkling that dark would not be long in coming. If only she had a proper view of the sky, she would be able to hazard an educated guess about the time of day. Though the thick walls of the compound blocked out most of the sun's light, many vampires slept during the daylight hours. By nightfall, their chances of escape would dwindle exponentially.
When the three girls vacated the cell, Hermione was given the unofficial title of leader though she had not the foggiest notion of where she was going. Jordan had been unconscious when she had been abducted and Monique seemed far too upset to barely keep herself in line let alone two other girls.
Holding onto Monique's arm and following the fiery brunette in front of her, Jordan was still grappling with her inner proclivities to curl up into a fetal position and rock back in forth, possibly humming some annoying folk-song. The only thing that was keeping her from achieving said proclivity was the fact that she was still not entirely convinced this was actually happening. A part of her strongly believed this to be only a delirious nightmare induced from her illness or perhaps a deluded prolonged hallucination. For all she really knew, she could still be tossing and turning in her own bed.
Not being able to distinguish between nightmare and cold reality was both a frustration and a boon for Jordan. The frustration being namely that of just not being able to tell which was which and the boon being that if she could successfully trick herself into believing it was all just a nightmare, then she would be able to stifle her paralyzing fears. After all, if it is merely a dream you cannot actually be harmed, can you?
I mean, how often does a girl wake up from a feverish coma to find herself and her friend in a dirty, cramped little cell in the middle of nowhere? It just has to be a dream, which is good, cuz I can do dreams. If Jordan were to consider this rationally (which she did not particularly want to do), she would understand the possibility of the situation she was currently in was far more likely to occur for her due to her circumstances (being a slayer, being a witch, being associated with Harry Potter, etc…). It was a fact the slayer-witch obstinately tried to ignore, but a fact that kept finding its devious way to the forefront of her baffled mind.
A source of comfort could be found in the feathered form of Jinx. The phoenix had foregone flying for riding atop Jordan's shoulder. Though Jordan thought Jinx ought to apparate to her family and the Order, she felt immensely more secure with her here. If things turned out as they hoped and they did manage to rescue some survivors and escape these wretched bowels of hell, then they could send Jinx off for help. If only Jordan could gain some idea of where they were or at least if there were people, if not wizard-kind, nearby. Common sense dictated that if the area had once been home to people, they were either dead or had vacated the premises by now. Jordan abhorred common sense dictations sometimes.
Feeling her sixth-sense ripple portentously as they came across a three-way split in the dank corridor, Hermione withheld the gasp she wanted to emit and instantly pressed herself up against the wall, signaling to her two companions to do the same. She stole a glance at Jordan, who had felt the same presence and was looking alert but very grave. Hermione cautiously peered around the corner and then instantly brought her head back, sighing in relief. There were only two vampires walking the corridor.
"Que voyez-vous?" Monique inquired anxiously.
Though Hermione could not understand the words precisely, she could guess that the fifteen-year-old wanted to know what Hermione had seen. She held up two fingers to indicate she had seen two vampires, but Jordan went ahead and translated for her.
"Deux vampires. Pas de quoi s'inquiéter," she assured the girl with a confident smile.
They silently waited for the vampires to come to them and it was not long before they came into view as they entered into the three-way section. Hermione and Jordan instantly lunged forward and pulled both vampires back while Monique stepped aside with the sword Jordan had pilfered from a vampire raised and ready to strike. The girl narrowly missed slicing off Hermione's own head when she beheaded one of them. Within three minutes both vampires were nothing but piles of ashes on the ground.
"God, it feels so good to have my strength back. Now if only I had my bloody wand," Hermione remarked in slight triumph.
Jordan smiled faintly while she sifted through the ashes for the weaponry not rendered into ashes. "Not to rain on your nice parade or anything, Hermione, but we still are stuck in here. And we still have no idea how to get out or where other girls are being kept. All the cells we've checked so far have been empty," she grimly reminded her.
"I know, but we're not off to a particularly bad start," Hermione replied. "We're not dead or recaptured yet."
"Shhhh!" Jordan hissed. "Don't fricken jinx us!"
The phoenix on Jordan's shoulders perked her head up at the sound of her name and flapped her wings. She turned her golden eyes on Jordan in an almost affronted expression.
"Sorry, sweetie," Jordan apologized.
Monique seemed rather invigorated after the short skirmish; her dark eyes glittered with vitality and determination. She smoothed her unruly black curls away from her face and hefted the sword up in front of her to demonstrate how prepared she was to engage in another battle.
The corridor the vampires had come from had three heavy doors on each side complete with small barred windows at the top. Jordan prayed at least one or two of the cells had a captive in them because she was really itching to get out of there. She could not, obviously, in good conscience leave innocent girls behind to die at the hands of Drusilla. Besides, Hermione would not let either of them leave until the brainiac was satisfied they had done all they could.
A guttural moan emanated from the onyx-haired woman's throat as she sat straight up in her luxuriant bed. Awoken from her dreams of slaughter and gore by whispering voices of warning, she rose from her bed of virginal white to heed the intangible forces. Her beautiful white nightgown hugged her curvaceous body securely and her pale feet were bare unless one wanted to count the blood-red nail polish on her toes.
The vampire mistress stood on the bare stone floor; her black eyes, swirling with madness, were transfixed on an invisible entity it seemed as she waved back in forth in the exclusive dance to the music meant only for her ears. The stars were singing along with the sweet essence of her most recent blood conquest as it coursed through her veins. Her delicate mouth curled into a sneer of anger and her beautiful face transformed into the distorted visage of a demon. She did not like what the song was about.
Her presents were being taken away from her.
The first cell they came upon contained two girls, a veritable jackpot as far as their luck had been going. It was too dark to discern the girls' precise origins to determine whether they understood English or not, but Jordan dispensed with pleasantries because her built-in slayer-certified warning system was starting to thrum rather loudly. They needed to leave this place and they needed to leave this place now.
Both girls were clutching at each other and cowering in the corner in abject terror. Jordan entertained the notion of what it would be like if all vampires and demons did that when they saw her, but quickly shoved it out of her mind and worked on getting her goodwill across to these girls.
"Do either of you speak English?" was the first thing she asked. Trying to make sure they knew she was here to help would be much facilitated if they could speak with one another.
One girl with cropped, greasy brown hair and translucent gray eyes slowly stood up as her fear of their visitor slowly disintegrated and recognition set in.
"I know you! You were in the papers! You were that witch who fought at the Hellmouth in America!" she exclaimed, quite loudly, in an Australian accent.
It took a while for Jordan to make sense of what she was saying for she only read certain areas of newspapers and it usually did not include the front page or current events in general. She had totally forgotten about her fifteen minutes of fame when her exploits at the Hellmouth were made annoyingly public like she had done something heroic. Honestly, with the injuries she had sustained in that battle it was a miracle she had managed to stay conscious through it all.
"Is that a phoenix on your shoulder?" the girl asked when she noticed the bird.
"Yeah. Her name's Jinx and today happens to be your lucky day," Jordan quipped. "But we need to get a move on."
While Jordan took care of the two girls in her chosen cell, Hermione and Monique had found another cell with only one occupant and this girl was laying inert, facedown, on the floor. Tremulously, but speedily, Hermione jammed the keys she had procured from Jordan once she had opened up the other cell into the lock and pushed the heavy door open. She and Monique rushed over to the motionless teen, praying for her still to be alive and not severely injured.
Monique felt the girl's wrist for a pulse and released a relieved breath when she felt one; it was steady and strong, a very good sign. She nodded to Hermione who grasped the meaning without any need for words. Since there was no time to ascertain whether the girl had any spinal or head injuries, Hermione gently turned her over onto her back and brushed the blonde hair out her face. A prominent black and purple bruise on the girl's right cheek marred the pale skin and Hermione wondered if it was that, or, rather, what had caused it that was the reason for her present condition. She scanned the room and found two water bowls, one was turned over and the other was about three-quarters full with murky water.
This girl had hada companion, but it was clearly evident her cellmate had been taken already. Perhaps this girl had tried to fight for her and only succeeded in being overpowered in her current state and knocked unconscious. A commendable but essentially futile act, Hermione thought disconsolately.
"Hermione, are you ready—whoa! What happened to her?" Jordan appeared at the doorway with the two captives she liberated flanking her on either side. The Australian girl who had recognized her was named Jill and the still-trembling Spanish slayer-witch was Luiza.
"She's alive, but she's been knocked out cold," Hermione informed her friend in a relieved voice.
Jinx relinquished her perch upon her human friend's shoulder and fluttered down to the ground to give her own assessment of the girl. Monique fetched the water bowl and hurriedly brought it to the phoenix while glancing anxiously about the cell, perhaps remembering how she was very recently incarcerated in such a claustrophobic and depressing setting. She seemed particularly keen on leaving as soon as possible.
Before Hermione could even administer the water containing Jinx's mystical tears to the as-yet anonymous girl, Jordan came rushing in a frenzy of fear and haste. She very nearly knocked both Monique and Hermione over when she swooped the girl into her arms stating in an alarmed voice, "We need to go now!"
While Hermione and Monique had tended to the girl, Jordan had slipped from her position at the doorway to check the shadowy corridors just in case her newly returned senses might have failed her. Indeed, they very nearly did when she spied, whilst glancing stealthily about a corner, that not only was quite a vast retinue of vampire guards headed their way, they were being led by one very peeved looking vampire mistress—the notorious and criminally insane Drusilla. She quickly spun on her heels and practically flew back to where the others were still waiting. If there were any girls still trapped here, they would not receive any help from Jordan or the other five for if those six did not leave right away, they would most certainly soon be sent back into their cells and/or killed. Jordan was betting on the latter of the two wretched fates.
Normally, the corridors would have been filled with more guards, or, at least, far more attentive ones. But days and weeks of residing within the insipid compound while feeding on the few humans who occupied the area had rendered them rather bitter towards their mistress, but still far too afraid of her to ever try to escape. They had been enthusiastically anticipating the fresh, supple quarries their mistress promised were coming (the slayer-witches, of course), having heard of how drinking of their blood would be akin to drinking the blood of gods (obviously, their sources embellished quite a bit).
However, their mistress seemed quite resolute in keeping her toys and their succulent life-blood to herself. She would not even allow her minions to even share in the fun of torturing them with the creative devices she had had stowed in the compound. This was her gift for signing over her service and those she "employed" (probably more like enslaved) into the service of Lord Voldemort and his Wiccan servant. Drusilla did not particularly care for sharing her presents.
Knowing the girls had been amply stripped of their powers—both magical and slayer-wise—and with the addition of very powerful anti-apparition, anti-scrying, anti-locating spells, anti-so on and so forth wards to ensure that no rescue would be forthcoming, they decided not much guarding was to be needed. Had they been properly schooled in prison guarding or had been guards when they were alive (none of them had), perhaps they would have been more conscientious of their duties.
Hermione was aghast at the sudden change in attitude of her roommate. "What? We have not yet given her the water!"
"¡Vampiros!" came the petrified shriek of Luiza as she bolted down the corridor after the other two slayer-witches.
"Hermione! —" Jordan paused in the corridor for merely a second to beseech her friend to make haste, but her plea was abruptly cut short when she was rudely tackled to the ground by a demon in a white nightgown screaming like a banshee. The girl whom Jordan had been carrying had the unfortunate occupation at the moment of being Jordan's cushion, as the snarling madwoman had knocked Jordan into the ground front-first.
"Jordan!" Hermione shrieked in horror and shock. She started to dart forward to help her friend, but a group of vampires suddenly blocked her way out of the cell. She had inadvertently trapped herself in there.
Drusilla grabbed onto the filthy, tangled locks of the girl whom she had brought down and yanked her off the ground to heave her against the wall. The girl emitted a muffled cry of pain and fright when her head smacked painfully against the wall. The vampiress wrapped her long white fingers around the girl's neck and dug her sharp nails into the skin until she drew blood. The girl struggled wildly in her grasp and gasped for air as Drusilla's grip tightened on her windpipe.
"You! Filthy, bad, bad girl! Trying to take my presents away!" Drusilla hissed, enraged.
In response, the girl kneed Drusilla in the gut with a stunning amount of strength; strength the girl should not have if she were still under the Cruciamentem drug. The vampire's grip upon the girl's neck lessened in surprise at the unexpected defensive maneuver so the girl was then able to snap her head forward to hit Drusilla right in the forehead with the crown of her head. Drusilla reeled back from the blow and stumbled into a few of her own guards.
Before the thoroughly pissed off vampire mistress could even regain her bearings and strike again, an unearthly sound filled the air. Tantamount to a dozen knives tearing at her eardrums and sending sharp threads of pain pounding through her head, Drusilla clapped her hands over her ears and screamed. Her guards were in no better shape, perhaps even worse. Most had fallen to their knees with their hands over their ears and were moaning in agony. Others were leaning against the walls and had their eyes squeezed shut as if in by shutting out their vision they could shut out their hearing as well.
Hermione had prepared herself to fight the creatures that were filling the cell. She had already vowed to fight her way out or die trying because there was absolutely no chance she would deign to put back into that dreadful prison cell. She could not be shut up again only to await her torture and death. She would go out valiantly, like a true Gryffindor-reared slayer-witch. It was a vastly better fate than rotting alive in her cell until she was killed in a far less glorious light.
In the heat of the moment, she had completely forgotten Jinx was in the cell along with her. The phoenix was still standing upon the ground, blinking her golden eyes in an almost uncomprehending manner. Uncomprehending would be the glaring opposite of Jinx, as she understood quite well what was going on. When her mistress's friend had clenched her fists and taken a defensive poise, ready to fight till the death if necessary, the phoenix acted. She opened her beak and let loose a deafening cry that triggered an immediate effect.
The myriad of songs a phoenix can produce can have various effects on different people. Everyone knows that those who are pure of heart experience an uplifting in spirit and courage in the face of despair when they hear the song of the phoenix. For those whose hearts are impure, fear and despair will engulf them. To vampires, it was as if holy water or crosses had been transformed into song; such was its devastating consequence for whatever undead creature happened to hear it.
Hermione did not realize at first just why, but when she heard the ethereal sound she felt her heart swell with hope and courage. Suddenly, it no longer seemed so impossible to escape. In fact, it seemed impossible that she would not escape along with Jordan and the girls they had liberated. She gaped, awestruck, at the sudden change in the vampires that had been about to assail her. They were moaning piteously and clapping their hands over their ears as if someone were dragging their fingernails against a rough surface. She wondered what had gotten into them all of a sudden.
When she saw a dash of scarlet and gold zoom past her, she finally understood. A smile spread over her dirty, sweaty face when she remembered the particular effects of a phoenix's song on certain individuals. She skirted through the creatures and found Jordan standing in the corridor with a strange smile on her face. On each side of her neck flowed four nearly identical rivulets of blood from the small wounds inflicted by Drusilla's sharp nails. She appeared to pay them no mind.
"Wow. Did we know her song could do this to vamps?" Jordan inquired.
"I suppose it's only common sense," Hermione replied, gently lifting the still unconscious girl that had been knocked from Jordan's own grasp into her arms.
Jinx circled over the girls a couple times before pausing in her song to chirp impatiently. The girls wasted no time in picking up their pace and following the bird down the passage where the other three slayer-witches had run. They caught up with the other three rather quickly due to the girls turning back once they realized Jordan and Hermione were not with them.
Skipping over the pleasantries, Hermione merely ordered, "Let's go! Follow Jinx!"
"How does she know the way out?" Jill asked.
"Just trust her," Jordan advised. "She seems to be the only one who knows what she's doing."
They sped down the passages that Jinx led them through, not knowing where they were actually going or if the phoenix was actually leading them somewhere and not just flying away from the vampires. Either way it worked for Hermione and Jordan. At least it appeared they were making some sort of progress. They ran virtually blindly all the while looking over their shoulders, expecting to see an enemy to be hot on their trail.
Relativity laws dictated that they reached a stairwell after about five or six minutes of steady running, but it had seemed more like five or six hours. Without even a cautious glance to ascertain if there were guards at the top of the darkened steps, they bounded up the steps, far too desperate and impatient to leave this place. Instead of meeting with more corridors, they nearly ran into the door that blocked their way.
"Should we kick it down?" Jill asked uncertainly.
Jordan looked to Hermione, who was scrutinizing the door carefully. Instead of being fashioned of heavy wood, it was completely metal and grayish in color. There was no window on it so they could not see whether it led to a room, another corridor, or outside. She handed the limp girl in her arms over to Monique and quietly walked up to the door to lay her ear against it. She heard nothing save the rapid breaths and heartbeats of the girls around her, evidence of the fear-induced adrenaline they were still experiencing. Hearing nothing to indicate there was anybody beyond the door and rationalizing that if there were, they could take him (or them) out with Jinx's added firepower, Hermione backed up, lifted up her leg and kicked the door right off its hinges.
When Jordan saw what was outside the door, she threw all inhibitions aside and flung herself outside to kiss the snow-covered ground. She probably would have gone so far as to attempt snow angels in the frozen snow had Hermione not kindly reminded her that they should probably head into the woods for cover and then send Jinx off for help.
Jordan promptly followed them into the woods, only occasionally looking back at the compound that could have been her final resting place. Just thinking about what had nearly come to pass made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up and she shivered involuntarily. True, it was very cold outside, but her shivering had nothing to do with the temperature. She wondered if any of the other girls were feeling the sudden onslaught of reality—the reality being that they had escaped almost certain torture and death.
When Hermione stopped running, Jordan leaned up against a tree and slid down to the ground, not particularly caring if they were being pursued. She dropped her head into her hands and just sat there for a while in silence as she fully registered everything. She had not even been aware of the sweat sliding down her back and the fact that her heart was currently pounding at hummingbird rate. She only now felt the stinging sensations of the wounds on her neck left by Drusilla and her damn fingernails. When she touched a wound and brought her hand back in front of her face to observe the blood, her hand was shaking quite a bit.
"Are you alright, Jordan?" Hermione asked hesitantly. The color Jordan had only recently regained seemed to have dissipated somewhat.
"What? Me?" Jordan gestured to herself. She nodded her head and massaged the back of her neck. "I'm just peachy. How are you doing?"
Hermione did not answer but instead surveyed their woody, dark surroundings and peered up past the conifers into the gray, overcast sky. She sighed ruefully and walked over to the branch where Jinx had perched herself to stand sentry over her small group of humans. She cocked her head to the side when Hermione approached.
"We owe you a lot, Jinx. We would never have made it out of there if you hadn't come," Hermione said softly.
"Jinxy, you're gonna have to do some more for us," Jordan cut in. "Go find help. Aidan, Dad, Mom, Buffy, somebody…apparate to them and…I dunno…bring back a portkey or something. We need to get out of here."
Hermione nodded solemnly and looked back at the five other girls. Monique was still cradling the unconscious blonde girl in her arms and was leaning against a tree, looking particularly spent and forlorn. They had escaped, but others had still lost their lives such as Monique's cellmate and the blonde girl's as well. How many girls were still left in that god-forsaken place to possibly rot until Drusilla took her wrath over losing six of her presents on them?
Hermione felt infinitely guilty about that, but there was no possible way she could go back in there to look for them without reinforcements. By the time they did return, if ever, those girls would probably already be dead. For the selfish reason of merely wanting to alleviate her guilt, Hermione had half a mind to convince herself and the others that those girls had already been killed by Drusilla before they even escaped. It was a horrible thought, but she could not help but run it through her mind. It was possible, after all.
When Jinx popped out of sight, the six slayer-witches waited with held breaths for some form of help to arrive so they could leave this place once and for all. As the sky darkened somewhat and a frigid breeze whipped their dirty locks about, they hoped their aid would not be long in coming.
French Translations (Rough Translations):
In French: "Pourquoi ne peut pas vous les bâtards me laissent la paix? Je ne sais pas si vous êtes un d'entre eux ou les illusions, mais si vous êtes un d'entre eux le continuent alors juste déjà. Vous avez déjà pris l'autre fille, pourquoi pas moi aussi? Faites-le juste! S'il vous plaît!"
In English: "Why can't you bastards leave me alone? I don't know if you're one of them or illusions, but if you are one of them then just get on with it already. You've already taken the other girl, why not me too? Just do it! Please!"
In French: "Que voyez-vous?"
In English: "What do you see?"
In French: "Deux vampires. Pas beaucoup pour s'inquiéter au sujet de."
In English: "Two vampires. Not many for us to worry about."
Now to respond to my patient ;-) reviewers. Thank you all so much!
Aly616: You'll have to wait until next chapter to find that out. Hope this one can ease the suspense a bit.
Sam: More interaction between Jordan and Draco to come. Not so sure about Aidan and Ginny though.
yes thats ME: Glad you think so. And I don't believe Tonks is gay in the series, but it suits the purpose it this story since I like the idea of her and Willow being together.
Charmed-angel4: Actually, I did not know what Aidan truly meant until after I started writing the story. I always liked the name and it's a name I'm keeping for my future son. Of course, that'll be a long time from now.
matt: Sorry about your computer. My brother did come home and thanks for the condolences. Now I just wish he would visit.
Silver Warrior: I guess I'm kind of protective of my siblings as well. I'm the second oldest for my mom and the oldest for my father, so I get it both ways. You're dead on about the incest I believe. I suppose Draco would be an exception to the rule of ugliness.
Almadynis: You're actually counting the grammatical mistakes? I'll save you the trouble and tell you there will probably be numerous ones, but not really obvious ones.
Aoi Dragon: There are some great websites you can go to learn all about the Buffy-verse if you're lost. and is a great Buffy database. I've actually never seen Firefly, but I know the guy who plays Caleb was a leading character in it.
Vld: Torture for Pansy and Bellatrix. Well……maybe or maybe not. It's not like anyone really knows Pansy is the one who helped Hastemire. Hermione might have a hunch though, but that's about it.
slaygal166: I was going to do that, but it was taking enough time to get this chapter out I decided to forego it this time. I might just put a summary of what's going on so far in my profile sometime later.
Thanks also to: Chrios, Saxifrage, GinnyPotterFreak4eva, Idun, FanFictionDreamer, Chaotic reign, NeoDarkness, PotterGurl07, and DragoFlare4000.
I'll be gone next week on a trip to some college program thing in Virginia (my birth state). So, definitely no updates next week, but they should come quicker now that it's summer. I say should because shit happens a lot it appears. Sorry for the wait. Until then!