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Clearing Up: They were not attacked at two am... They consumated their relationship... Oh and things are getting darker now...

Chapter Fifteen

Undercurrent

When Nott awoke it was nearly nine o'clock. Across the hallway he heard the taps running for the bath in Hermione's room. He stretched and yawned, unwilling to leave the comfort of his bed. However eventually he rose to the cold air, let it envelop every centimetre of him, freezing him to the bone before grabbing a robe and walking down stairs. Mercury was sitting on the floor reading, dressed in some of Hermione's transfigured clothes. She looked pissed off, like any Malfoy before the afternoon came.

Hermione strolled downstairs half an hour later. Her hair was wet and drying into rats tails, her expression far off and her eyes tired. She plunked down at the table and grabbed Nott's cup of coffee, drowning herself in it. "I'll be out today and this evening and won't be back until late. Make sure you keep the wards up-"

"I know." She spoke rather snappishly and a second later regretted it. She looked up at him and managed a warm smile. "Sorry. We'll be careful." He studied her face, smiled dimly, before rising. Hermione's eyes had been on his but when he rose they made no change in position. So either she was extremely tired or she was looking at his torso. Let it be the second, the wily part of his brain encouraged her silently.

--

Hermione secured the house at eleven. She then took Mercury, who was complaining bitterly about everything from the bright sunny freezing weather to the bows on her shoes, to the nearby forest and sidealong apparated them to Bill's house. Fleur greeted them with her normal warmth or lack of. "Hermione," She gleamed, "iz so good to zee you. And Melanie! You zo look beautiful today! Just like a young laydy."

Mercury looked desperately up at Hermione who just shrugged and let her new daughter be led away. The stairs up to Bill's office seemed longer than ever before. But the information was important. She knocked and was admitted straight away. "Hermione!" Bill rose with a sad smile on his face. "You're looking well." He was inspecting every inch of her. She blushed slightly and sat in her normal chair.

"I've got some more information." She said crossing her hands silently over each other in attempt not to fiddle. Bill's eye twitched a little.

"Yes. Well. I hope you didn't have to give too much up for it." Hermione looked up surprised. His voice had contained such a tone of accusation and anger that she had not recognised it for his. His face glared at her and she felt quite offended. What... was Ron's death her informant's fault? Is that what they believed? It was folly!

"The Properate charm is traceable. All the Ministry have to do to find it is to look back in their records to see the magical trace map which will tell you where the Death Eaters use the spell a second after they cast it. That is invaluable information is it not?" She retorted glaring. "Now I have better things to be doing than listening to your baseless accusations, or having my daughter pounced and clawed at by your wife." Hermione turned round and stormed out, letting the door bang satisfactorily behind her.

"Hermione wait!" She was opening the door, Mercury already at her knees, keener to leave than Hermione. Hermione paused, gloating. "Here," Bill snarled, before pulling his wife away from them and shutting the door on her face. Hermione was left holding a white envelope and two newspapers, both of which Nott had got.

--

"Don't do that Hector! Mecury is not a toy!" Hermione warned him from the kitchen. The dog had been pushing Mercury towards the door as the small girl had attempted to rid his lead of the sticky flora which had attached itself whilst their walk had progressed. "Hector!" She warned again as the dog had begun headbutting the child. He slunk off sulking.

Hermione finished washing and drying the dishes. "I'm going to walk down to the beach, Mercury. If there's any problem or anything happens, run down and tell me okay?" The small girl looked up knowingly. And Hermione felt all her pride drain out of her. But the girl then blinked looked back at the dog and the lead and resumed her work.

The beautiful day had given in to a beautiful night. The stars shone like beacons onto the deepest abyss. And the sea raked in the sand with the gentlest of soothing sound and motion. And the world looked alive. And beautiful.

The first tear crept down her face. She wiped it away as quickly as it had come. And then the second and third. Hermione's legs gave out and she collapsed onto the beach. Her head was pounding like she had never known. And every emotion she had ever had came out in a great sob which rebounded onto the sea. She buried her face, unable to look at the beauty of the world around her, unable to face her guilt.

She was dating a murderer. Her closest friends were dead or in hiding away from her. She was using a guy who she could not even claim a friendship to for support mental and monetary. She had a life she was sworn to her death to protect, who she felt nothing for. And she was alone. So alone, in this world of death she was alone.

She wasn't old enough to be a mother. She wasn't young enough not to care. The girl was uncaring, arrogant and obstinate but Hermione had to now share her life with her. Oh and her boyfriend was dead. She was a fucking necrophiliac.

Bile rose in her throat and she vomited over the nearest rock.

Was this life? Was Shakespeare right? A tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury, signifying nothing?

She was lulled to dreams by the endless hush of the waves, tears still trailing down her face.

--

Draco Malfoy took a last glance at the map he held. In truth he didn't need to he could already smell her. Halfway down the street, but her magical insignia called to him. One of the Death Eaters who did not return to that Pub on the Isle of Wight, but instead went to their own home and saved their sorry arses. But not from him.

Avenging Angel... well he certainly looked like one. His blood rushed in his ears with the pounding of the rhythm of death. His hands twitched to reach out and bleed the bitch dry. Ah, speak of the Devil.

"Malfoy!" He stopped somewhat affronted. She ruined his surprise. And she was drunk! Ah why not take all the fun out... "Malfoy! You can't kill me." She let out a maniacal laughter. "I knew you were coming. I told the Dark Lord it was you, giving them information. But then he tortured old Snape because he thought it was him. Ha. Your information was out of date." She stumbled towards him and puked into a wall.

Draco crossed his arms very irritated. She was ruining his fun! "I knew it was you. My own dear nephew. And I knew you'd come for me. You have eight people on your list, don't you! Eight people before you return to the dead!" She hiccuped. "Well you can't have me." She laughed again maniacally into the night and Draco felt like snapping her neck to get it over with.

"Actually it's nine." He told her icily, annoyed with the fact she couldn't even get it right if she was unveiling his master plan.

"And I'm your last one. The final one. But I'll get you!" She lunged at him, but past straight through him and crashed into a pile of bins. Draco sighed.

"Actually you're number..." He counted them up in his head. "Six I believe." He said quietly. "But don't worry I can kill anyone else who I want to. Got any friends back in there?" He asked gesturing to the bar she had just left. If she was really this irritating then he'd like to rid her and her friends of this world and perhaps get a medal. "And I have no intention of returning to the grave." He said sternly. "Now hold still this will take about half and hour."

His relative now looked up at him in hope. "Draco," hiccup, "Please." She said quietly before her screams began making music to the quiet London streets. But no one heard, because Draco did not want them to hear. "Draco." She was close to death. Pain had turned to hair quite white, her skin was drawn into an ashen mess of a hundred and twenty year old. "Draco. They won't stand for it... Not on their own side..." But her warnings were lost as the grim reaper took another victim onto the blackened slate.

--

Mercury told Theodore where she was. "Crying out on the beach." And perhaps, perhaps, Nott saw some pity or sadness cross the face of the child. "She's cracking up." The girl told him solemnly. Theodore merely nodded and said she'd been threatening to do that since fifth year.

He took Hector out onto the cliff path, the dogs bounding happily along the stiff path, frozen grass cracking under his weight. He could see her from the top of the cliff, a shrunken dark blue figure collapsed over the top of the rock. She'd be lucky not to catch hypothermia. As they got closer he could see the water lapping at her feet, as the tide had risen. She looked wet from the waist down. Further down the beach he could see her shoe dug deep into the sand like the sinking Titanic. So he presumed she had managed to pull herself further up the beach.

Her skin was cold and of an ashen white. Her eyes which opened to his touch were a deep dark brown against her pale skin. And she looked so unlike Hermione Granger that an overwhelming pity disturbed his sensibilities. Gently as he could he picked her up and began to carry her back to the house, Hector bounding ahead, as if sensing the urgency, and as if thinking that his speedy return could do anything to help. Hermione clung on to him with all the strength she could which was little in her weakened state. What a fool, she thought, a light pink showing a blush on her face.

He supported her in one arm as he opened the door. "Mercury go to your room and do not leave it till I tell you." The girl scowled like no other before obliging. Nott, who's arms were shaking slightly from the effort, placed her down in his armchair in front of the fire. He took his wand from the table where he had left it on arriving that morning and magicked the fire to a uproar. He then placed blankets on the shivering friend, and turned to find the potions book.

There was a proficient potion which almost immediately cured hypothermia but Nott did not remember the ingredients. And when he looked them up, 'Bazzleweed' and 'Curate's Gaft' were so rare he would have to make a very risky trip to Diagon's Alley to get them. He swore. And then again when a sharp rap came at the front door. Who would visit him?

Nott took up his wand, fear now pumping in his veins. He took a look at the drowsy Hermione, who was digging in her robes numbly for her wand. He smiled a small smile at the Gryffindor still in her. Was this to be their end? He walked to the door.

"Nott."

And Nott, obligingly, screamed.

--

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