VillainValkyrie: Short answer: because I don't believe in happy endings. Long answer... If I wrote ten fanfictions about Draco/Hermione he would survive in about six, Hermione four. In about one they would live happily ever after. It's the sort of author I am. Death haunts my fics and there's probably a psychologist out there very concerned about that. Aside from that also the most memorable stories have sad endings: highest grossing film of all time Titanic. Sorry you got such a long answer but I've just finished writing a chapter and... err... killed someone who I didn't know was going to die when I began writing the chapter... So you've got me when it's on my mind... But thanks for the review!
Anuksunamun-Kalia: If I have just spelt your name wrong forgive me, I'm trying to learn to spell it without checking back every two seconds. Thanks so much for the compliments! My head is going to get so big I'm going to have trouble with doors!
Frog: All in good time! Don't worry about that, someone will turn out to be gay I promise... cough And trust you to be all for psycos. I'm still shocked about Exquisite Corpse.
Bex Drake: My darling thankies so much! I'm glad you appeciate my take on the characters and hope you really enjoy the rest of it!
Dragon Navi: I promise more sweet moments... I swear... Somewhere... Kiss kissness... honest...Enjoy!
Chapter Five
Harry swore loudly as he plunged six foot into the centre of the Amazon river. The tide was strong enough to carry him downstream, and his wand, being damp, was no way to get out of this situation. "Harry!" Ron yelled from the safety of the bank. "I think I may have misjudged the distance!"
Harry's wonderfully crafted, genuine and perfectly monstrous response of swear words were cut off by the sight of what he hoped were not piranhas. He didn't know much about what floated in the Amazon but he did know it was very dangerous. It was only then did he notice a local ferryman rowing towards him. And only then did relief fill him. He swam, or rather battled against the current, to reach the small wooden boat being rowed by a startlingly thin tribesman with unusually kind eyes. For a second Harry thought he was looking at Dumbledore but the instant passed and he hauled himself up into the boat.
"Thank you." Harry said earnest watching as the strange fish creatures gnawed up his left behind, half torn shirt. Turning away he looked towards the bank where they were rowing to meet a grinning Ron. Then Harry turned back and looked at the markings on the man and a light of happiness filled him. It was the tribes marking that were in the memory. "Say, you don't know anyone called Onga Suut do you?" Harry asked his eyes once more gleaming like the emeralds they were.
--
She dreamt about him. Her correspondent. His pale, cold hands touching her. Hermione never got erotic dreams, and this was not really erotic, more... deep. Personal. Was this lust for a man she had never seen? Was he even a man? And why was he killing? She had looked for an answer to the information she had scribbled onto the parchment after returning from Bill Weasley's. In the morning, however, it was merely blank.
Deciding there was nothing to be done, Hermione prepared to spend the day practising her new skill.
--
The deep valleys and high hills of Scotland made keeping a lookout hard. But the young Death Eaters were use to this hardships and night guard duty was not a bad one. Except perhaps when your eyes played tricks on you. See, young Zabini, a small black stocky but short fourteen year old, swear he swore a tree move.
It was too tall for a man and looked, in the inky blackness, just like the immovable trunks that stood before him on his guard duty. The boy edged forward from his post, wanting to see if this trunk was where he thought it should be.
He smelt something. Like disinfectant. Then whomph, the boy fell over quickly and with only a small thud.
The smell had been elicited from Hermione's Correspondent's wand. It was a quick and painless way of knocking someone out. After all he would keep Hermione's trust as long as he could before shattering it. And he'd always liked Zabini. The stealth tree walked silently up to the entrance of the small castle that held the training grounds of the Death Eaters.
He could feel the magic from the doors before he got there. He stood for a minute inhaling the scents of the different incantations before releasing them all and opening the doors. This was definitely not a Wizards skill. He did so again just inside the door undoing all the complicated charms and curses which were engraved into the very stonework of the castle.
He strode down the corridor smirking behind his white mask. He could feel that presence. It had scared him when he had first begun to feel the presence of magic and wizards. In fact in the beginning it had scared him full stop. The new sensations, the power, the strength which he now seemed to gain day by day.And now...He was still smiling as he bore down to deliver death and destruction.
The scent led him down a maze of passages and charms which he took several seconds to disable. After quarter of an hour wandering down endless small passages, which made him feel very much unlike the Avenging Angel which he was modelling himself on, he arrived at the door to her bedchamber. He had remained undiscovered so far and no alarm had been raised. So he could take his time with this one. The smile once again graced his face.
He could feel that spicy errant magic that emanated from her. Exotic creature was Marzipan Hepene, a Death Eater, who specialised in deception. He opened her door without touching it and walked in, already knowing she was awake. She sat up from the bed, her white night clothes making her very much the innocent martyr to his crime. A hair band held back her wild black hair, her nails polished and strong showed her personality through and through. "Who are you?" She asked diving for her wand.
He used showed her the wand he'd already retrieved by a spell from her bedside table. "I'm your justice." He said venom coming from his soul. He pulled his hood back and took off the mask.
She screamed. Screamed like serpents had buried there poisoned fangs into her neck. She screamed knowing her hope had gone.
And the scream awoke no one.
The 'Correspondent' made such a scene as to scare even the heartless. He killed her, but only after she had endured every agony she had bestowed on another. He killed her in the most disgusting, foul and wretched way he knew how. By the time he left the floor of the room was wet with a little layer of blood.
And yet he had not found the experience... pleasurable. It had disturbed him. But after all she had done to her what she had done unto others... was that not justice? Perhaps Hermione had been affecting him with her morals and her ideas.
He shook himself free of the thought left the castle, making sure to fire up the word 'defenceless' so it hung above the castle in red letters. He only hoped that the Ministry and Order would be sensible enough to believe it.
--
Bill Weasley was frantic. He did not know who the Golden Trio's secret keeper was, he didn't know how to get in touch with his brother and he didn't know what to do. What he did know was that Hermione's informant had killed in such a fashion as to set new standards of horror. And that Hermione was meeting him with no protection. And that just brought about loads of images to his head of a woman he thought of as his sister doing oh so adult things which he did not want in his head! By Merlin was he mad?
He was brisk with all his go-betweens and spies, hoping that Fleur would come in telling him Hermione was waiting to see him. But so far he'd just had long agonising waits between his appointments. By midday he gave up waiting and returned to his office and fireplace. He flooed to Remus Lupin's residence.
"Lupin!" he yelled as soon as he landed in their kitchen. "Remus!" He yelled walking to the door. A sauce pan dropped to the floor behind him and he swung round to see... "Tonks. Err... sorry." He apologised looking at the ground. Tonks had been cooking bacon and eggs in a mesh bright pink bra and (under)pants which matched her hair to great effect.
Lupin appeared hurrying down the corridor in his normal shambles of appearance. "What's the matter. It's my day off." Lupin then took in his girlfriend's situation, as she picked up food off the floor. "Oh. Probably for the best. I think the eggs were off." Tonks glared up at him and Lupin hastily pulled Bill away into the small sitting room. "I still haven't quite got the hang of this girlfriend fiance thing." Lupin admitted embarrassed. Bill nodded with a great deal of understanding. "Now what's the problem. You look quite frantic."
"I suppose you've heard what happened to the Death Eater Youth camp?"
"Yes, successfully raided this morning."
"After the guards were taken down by a person who then proceeded to perform the most grisly murder on one of the teachers. His identity remains unknown." Bill added looking deep into the ex-professor. "Apparently the Auror who discovered it has been admitted to St Mungos. Are you Potter's Secret Keeper?"
Lupin looked taken aback and slightly angry at the question. "Bill, I don't know what you're suggesting. I wouldn't tell you if I was. What's that got to do with this murder?"
"Hermione is the one who is in contact with the murderer. That's how we were prepared to take down the training base. Because we were expecting him to weaken their defences. But he's already killed one like that he's going to do it again. And if Hermione, like she does, angers him, he will kill her. I don't want to get to their house. I just want her to know the danger she's in. And if Ron and Harry are back them too." Bill's voice shook a little and he regained himself. He had yet to lose a brother but he could feel the time creeping closer. Or a sister.
"I am not their secret keeper, Bill. I'm sorry. But am I right to presume that we are getting information from this fellow about the Dark Lord and his movements?" Remus asked, steeping his fingers and leaning forwards in his chair. Bill nodded. "Good information?" Bill nodded again. "Then I believe Ms Granger knows what she is doing. She is a sane and rational girl, Bill. I know you care for them like siblings, but Ms Granger has always been an intuitive and clever girl."
Bill resisted the desire to throttle the reason out of Lupin. He cleared his throat, rose, and shook hands in a farewell to Lupin. Apologising to a still half naked Tonks, and inviting them around to one of Fleur's excellent lunches (a trouble for which a wet tea cloth was thrown at him), he left heart heavier than when he had arrived.
--
Investigation into Murdered MoonkiteToday an investigation concluded into the allegiances of Terrence Moonkite, 33, a Ministry Official who was murdered in the East End of Muggle London. Although no official statement has been released yet an unnamed Ministry Official said there were unexplained disappearances, unexplained items found in his home and unexplained items of clothing. Moonkite worked as an assistant to the Minister of Magic, making his access to information worryingly high.
If he were partial to the Dark Side it casts a totally different perspective on his murder. However it is 'unlikely a person working for the light side would do such a grisly murder' said the unnamed Ministry official. The investigation is said to have been started when the morgue workers found a Dark Mark on the dead man's forearm. His family of the 'loving father and husband' have denied that he had any connection with You-Know-Who.
--
To Ron the moon seemed to be laughing at him. He was handing upside down by his foot. Goodness knows why their luck had run out. But the tables had turned. And now he was sure his ears were about to burst. Harry was out cold on a rock ten feet below him. Or at least Ron thought he was. He could have almost sworn he saw Harry's eyes twitch. Maybe it was all the blood rushing into his head. 'Cos earlier he swear he could have seen a monkey pointing and laughing at him.
Voices. Voices! Not strange chanting. Ron was sick of strange chanting. He'd rather liked it until they stumbled across this tribe which seemed to associate chanting with poking sticks up places they really shouldn't be.
Oh bollocks. He thought annoyed as Bellatrix Lestrange walked into the clearing. Oh bollocks. Could this get any worse? Yeah! She wasn't alone. Behind her a lithe, tall figure walked out into the clearing glancing up at Ron for only a second. Pale face, bald head... and glowing red eyes.
This was Ronald Weasley's first sight of the infamous Voldemort.
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Tonight, The Abbey, Oxford. Midnight.
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