PractikalMagik: I'm so glad you think so! squeee And am glad you're enjoying it!
Nikki Paige: Hope you like logging on then, I hope to update this reguarly twice a week or more, though I'm currently about to start writing the tenth chapter. As for plot... well.. it could all end up with more holes than a sieve but we have to look on the bright side of life do we not? Thnak you so much for the comments!
MLT: Simply wonderful you think soand I hope you read more!
Anuksunamun-Kalia:Wow. I just read through the reviews for Dream of the Dragon and realised you reviewed every chapter! It must have been the time when all my alerts for were not working otherwise I would have said thanks! Well thanks for reviewing this one! Am very glad you like this one as much though I dare say they are quite different. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
AN: Hello again. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Will hope to do another update this week but it might not be till Friday as it's my holiday. I was going to go to London you see... but now am only going for a day. So might be able to do one mid week. Enjoy the fic and remember to review!
Chapter Three
Guilt
The Death Eater, Travis Bungledon, swaggered into their airy seaside Victorian Manner. He was a king. He was a god. He was... going to be The Dark Lords New Best Friend. Perhaps, when this was all over he'd get an empire of Muggles. Perhaps China. He'd always liked China. For he, Travis Bungledon had got information on the wretched rat Harry Potter. The boy was in Brazil. And with no Order members to protect him.
The gleeful smile grew even bigger, if that were possible. A cat drowning in cream.
He stopped in an instant. Iron, copper smell hit his nose. His hand grabbed at his wand and wrenched it out, the fear beating in him like a drum. The smell was of blood. He trod carefully into the large hallway of light beach. Only the soft sound of floorboards creaking reached his ears as he came to the large sitting room.
"Oh my..."
--
Bill Weasley was at home when Hermione called. It was a dark and gloomy day, warmer than the night before and foreboding of gloomier weather to come. Ugly, that's what it was, he decided in his mind as he rose from his seat to greet her. Bill Weasley was a prominent member of the Order, and in this capacity worked in a very secure home. In fact it was so secure with every protection and secrecy spell that he, and his wife Fleur, had been chosen to run the spy network within the Dark Lord's legions. He did this with such a great proficiency that, should his mother been allowed to talk about it, she would have made every witches ears ring with pride.
"Hermione, come in." He shook her hand warmly smiling with the affection of a brother. She smiled gratefully at the warm reception and collapsed into his warm and comfy chairs which he had for such meetings. "How has your week been? How is my brother and our hero?"
"They're in South America, Brazil." Hermione replied taking a proffered sweet and declining coffee or tea. "I've been fine. In fact I've got some information for you." She leant forward. This was a change from the normal. These meetings were held weekly so as to provide information to the Golden Trio. Information such as captures, deaths and missing persons. Bill's ears pricked up, rarely did they have news for him. "I won't reveal my sources naturally but Voldemort's latest operation base is located in Darkwood Halls, Gloucestershire."
Bill's mouth dropped open like a melon dropping off Big Ben. Hermione let a small satisfied smile grace her lips before coughing and looking modestly to the picture he had of his wife and family on his desk. "How.. How did you find this out? No, no first rule never reveal a source. Wow, Hermione. This... this could change the tide of this war... not that it's going that badly of course. Thank you."
Hermione felt a little swell of pride in her chest floating about. "Well, what else do I have to tell you. Err... fairly quiet week. Erm... Wormtail. Yes Wormtail." Hermione's swell was crushed by a huge tidal wave of black water. Guilt, horror and worry nailed their way into her nerves. In typical Weasley fashion Bill noticed nothing. "He, and two other Death Eaters were found murdered in their house."
"Oh. Oh." Hermione said the tide of grief dispelling somewhat. She had feared that her information had led to some sort of breakthrough for the Dark Lord's army but... this... this was not what she expected.
"Yes I thought you'd be somewhat relieved. You must tell Harry when he gets back. Although I am not pleased about the way it was done. The Order didn't do it. We don't know who did, grisly horrible murder. But I won't trouble you with the rat's demise. Just be at peace that something like that is gone from this world. Oh and Remus is to be married."
Hermione let out a little yelp as the news sunk in. "Oh that's great." Bill rolled his eyes in the 'girls' sort of way that males occasionally do. She grinned at him, her mind still churning over the information about Wormtail. He was gone, which was good. But why did she feel so guilty. Did he not deserve that death?
No, her conscience answered as she rose to apparate back home. No one deserves death.
--
She still had the slightly nagging guilt lurking in the back of her mind as she pushed open her back door. It would be the last time she would leave the house, or according to the boys. If the stranger asked for another meeting... She would be brave and confront him. About the murder.
With this decided she found the note on her bed once again. It was the same one that had delivered the time before but now it was reading a different date and time.
Tomorrow night, same time, St Leon's Church, Canterbury.
Canterbury! Goodness. He did like long journeys. But this location was deserted. A church at late night. Thinking of the previous letter she picked her red quill from the desk and wrote at the bottom of the letter,
Change the place.
Thinking this was somewhat rude she added a 'please' at the end. The ink remained there. She waited for some time but it became apparent it was not sinking in the way the signatures had. So the paper was not magic. Blast.
--
Hermione only returned to her bedroom at eleven thirty that evening. She had spent the time pouring over the new translations of ancient wizards and witches scrolls. They had hoped that the ancient magic would provide a fresh insight into more powerful curses, charms and defence spells. So far it had provided only a headache. However Hermione still, unlike the boys, felt that there was a great knowledge to be gained from these one thousand year old parchments.
Tomorrow night, same time. Christ Church, Oxford.
She read it before she had realised what it was. Her writing had faded and the letter had changed. So it had worked. Christ Church was a university and tourist spot. It was likely to be busy even at that late time of night. She felt somewhat comforted. After all, he wasn't a wizard. Perhaps he wasn't so bad as her imagination told her.
As she lay down she imagined his face. Nott's face had disappeared. Instead it was a tall dark handsome warlock who's face looked down at her from behind the blackness. She fell asleep with a small smile on her face.
--
Midnight struck on the largest church bells and Hermione was running along the paved street to reach Christ Church. She had made a break through in the scrolls and the feverish excitement was burning through her veins like liquid fire. She had danced with Crookshanks round the kitchen before realising to her horror that it was five minutes to midnight.
And so with no thought she dashed out the house barely remembering to cast the concealing charm around her, passing through the magical barriers she reached her safe apparating spot. And there with a crack she vanished into the magical area of Oxford. It was a five minute walk from there to the University but she had to run it in two.
Only when she reached the iron gates of Christ Church did she stop and check the time. She had never been a fast runner and it was four minutes past twelve already. She looked around at the empty street cursing her stupidity and clasping at her throbbing side. Glancing up at the clock against she slumped onto the pavement and rested her head on her hand.
A sinister creak shook her. From down the street a gate opened slowly screaming against it's rusty hinges. A lantern seemed to hover in mid air from just behind the gate and Hermione imagined this to be her correspondent. She rose hurriedly and dusted herself down.
She walked over with as much grace and dignity as she could manage but being forced to pass under his cloaked arm to enter, as he did not move, left her image not as strong as she would have wished. "I don't think Wizards have the grim reaper, but if they did you'd be a shoo in for Old Hallow's Eve." She told him as he shut the rusty gate behind them. He did not reply, but made some sort of derisive snort.
"Ms Granger what information do you have for me? I wish to know where Voldemort sends his youngest recruits to go through a training programme." He walked beside her down the small path to the gardens. He was taller up close and smelled of poison. But the poison that smells so sweet, so delicious that it intoxicates it's victims with delight to tempt them to drink. Hermione took this as natures sweet warning and prevented her arm brushing his by keeping her distance. However sexy this tall stranger was... I have been cooped up with Harry and Ron for far too long, Hermione told herself firmly.
"It use to be at Glamorgan. But he moved it a month ago. I do not know where to." The silence was reproof enough for this. "If I find out where it is will you kill them? It was you who killed Pettigrew wasn't it?"
He stopped walking and looked down at her. The blackness that was his face caught the light. She almost screamed.
It was the face of a mime. A mask. White, blank. It was no face just held slits of eyes and mouth. Was there something so hideous behind this? Was this one of Voldemort's mistreated monsters? Or was this a man still?
"I killed Pettigrew, if that was his name. Wormtail is what I knew him as." There was a disgust in the voice at the mention of the name which Hermione had not heard before. The slavishly silky voice was now turned into malice and disgust and Hermione could well imagine this to be the voice of a cold hearted murderer. "But why would a dedicated member of the Order of the Phoenix care? One less cold blooded, pureblood to worry about."
"No one deserves death." Hermione answered defiantly. "No one."
"Not even the Dark Lord?" The voice spoke back into the silky amused tones he'd use before. Hermione stared up into the blank impassive mask.
"Harry will kill him, but his punishment should be the Dementors."
"A fate worse than death." Was what the mask spoke back to her before turning to walk along the path once more. In that turn Hermione caught glance of something she could not have possibly seen.
Beautiful, silky wonderful hair. White blonde hair.
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REVIEW! Drop a little note in with your opinion please! And I would like to know, does anyone else dismiss JKR's idea of why we like Draco; because we believe ourselves to be the one who could change him? Personally I wouldn't like to touch a hair on his head!