This story is currently under review - This chapter will be updated shortly!
Happy reading :)
Settings, stories, characters are all cannon, set in an AU, from a different POV!
Disclaimer: It all belongs to J K Rowling, apart from the obvious changes
Chapter Nine: Strange Beginnings
Hermione sighed heavily, lazily staring at her dribbling Master who was lolling idly upon his bed, giggling ludicrously to himself. She was extremely annoyed with him, upset for the day that she had missed, the opportunities that had passed her and the ridiculous amount of time she had spent looking after her Master when she could have easily spent the day with Viktor. He had sent her a letter the previous day, a small barn owl tapping noisily upon Ron's window, until her Master finally gave her permission to allow the creature in to deliver its load. He had carefully suggested a New Year's morning walk through the snowy grounds, followed by a warm mug of hot chocolate by a small fireplace within the Great Hall, a chance to mull things over together, make amends and become close once more. Only hours earlier she had skipped happily up to Gryffindor's boys dormitory to ready herself, glad of the excuse to fully talk about their previous kiss and excitedly changing from her ridiculous maids outfit and into her Hogwarts uniform, hastily pulling a large black fluffy coat around her shoulders and wrapping her head and neck up in the garments that she had received from Dobby, noting how warm she instantly became, a warm and loving feeling spreading through her. She ran hastily down the stairs, skipping a little as she draped her hands over the various walls, creating fluid movements with her entire body, feeling rather ephemeral and dizzy from excitement. Just as she had been about to step through the portrait hole, intent on making her way down to the Entrance Hall where Viktor would have been readily waiting for her, the occupants of the dormitory she had recently vacated entered noisily, bustling about heavily, followed by a rather disgruntled and thoroughly upset Carla who was half carrying, half dragging a lethargic Neville behind them. In the arms of the other five there were various dark coloured bottles of different shapes and sizes, the boys trying to desperately hide them, discretely placing their robes over them, creating large bulges beneath them, possibly creating a more obvious appearance. Ron had walked straight into her and began violently shoving her back up the stairs, and despite her loud protests, she had ended up stood by his bed for several hours afterwards as the boys had laughed and joked together, steadily becoming slightly drunk from the mountainous bottles of Mulled Wine that they had stolen from the Professors storage cupboard in the kitchens, the deep burgundy liquid they had cautiously smuggled into their room rather conspicuously. Loud snores could now be heard resonating from Neville, who had collapsed drastically upon his bed as soon as he had reached it, allowing, or perhaps being completely unaware that both Hermione and Carla had to tuck him in and close the hangings around him whilst placing a small bucket by his bed, just in case. All that now could now be seen of him was his hulking form from beneath his covers, his chest rising and falling with every dragging breath he took, sleeping deeply, not rousing from his sleep once. Hermione looked over towards Carla who simply stared back at her deeply not amused, and then looked to Ron, who was sat behind Hermione upon his own bed, his feet dangling over the edge and busily flicking Hermione's hair from side to side, taking no notice of his slave's obviously blank and mirthless expression. He gave a long vociferous belch and she turned slowly around to throw him a truly disgusted look and huff loudly at him. "If he's sick," Hermione turned back to Carla and threw her thumb back over her shoulder at her Master, "He's sitting in it. I am NOT...cleaning it up." She stated repulsed, Carla nodding back at her sombrely.
"Wassat 'Mione?" Ron half shouted at her, trying to roll himself over a little more to look at her properly. Turning back around to face him, she tried to smile, though only managed a slight grimace, she took a huge ragged breath,
"Nothing Sir." She groaned a little, "Do carry on." He continued to look at her lazily, a sloppy smile plastered over his face as his head rolled from side to side,
"Yooou." He pointed at her and then to the floor behind her, directly by his bed, "Ssshhit down. Sssit here. Noow." Her face contorted slightly and she gave Carla a fleetingly confused look, before shuffling backwards slightly and sitting where he had pointed, sulking up at him, lip twitching slightly.
'What a day this turned out to be,' She thought rather sourly, 'Stuck indoors with this git. Bloody typical.' Somehow Ron had always managed to do this to her, to make her feel miserable when she should have been celebrating. Every year she was confined to that small space with all of the inhabitants of the room, and their servants, waiting upon them all as if she had actually been born for the sole intent of giving them a good time and a comfortable life. Although alcohol had never before come into any of the arrangements, something had always occurred that destroyed her Christmas and New Years, something that put a downer upon a supposedly happy moment in her life. She still shuddered at the thought of her last winter at Hogwarts, finding herself performing party acrobatics as she was sent to the bottom of Gryffindor Tower and asked to scale it from the outside, only being allowed back in upon reaching their window. Normally, only the cold and wind would have hindered herself and Carla, yet the bombardment of trick spells shot down at them stalled their ascent greatly, terrifying them, despite the appearance of a cushioning charm beneath them, should they fall. A sudden bark from Harry caused Hermione to look up from the floor and peer over her Masters bed, seeing Carla stood by her own Master looking rather irritated,
"Oi! Carla! I require pie!" She looked at him uncomprehendingly, her mouth open slightly,
"Pie?" She questioned, an eyebrow raised slightly, knowing that there had to be more to this sudden request,
"Yes. Pie." She looked over to Hermione, eyes squinted slightly, a little unsure of whether to adhere to this request without pushing him for further information first,
"Did you hear me not? Pie damn it woman! I demand pie!" He suddenly sat up in his bed, swaying only ever so slightly, looking as though he were ready to pounce upon her for not delivering instantly. She appeared slightly taken aback but Hermione simply shrugged at her, silently suggesting it would be best for her just to comply and ask questions later. Carla sighed exasperatedly and then began to make her way towards the heater, opening the lid nonchalantly, about to climb inside, before she was interrupted midway through her departure, legs dangling inside, "Don't forget to hand make it!" She stopped and turned slowly to face him, disbelief plastered over her face, looking as though he had just shot her in the back,
"You want me to make you...a buggering pie?" Her mouth was gaping and wide in utter incredulity, hoping he would possibly revise his clearly preposterous decision,
"Of bloody course! Get moving!" She gave him a small snort and then begrudgingly disappeared from view, pulling the lid closed with a bang behind her. Silence fell over them momentarily before Harry spoke once more, this time directing himself to Hermione who was still peering at him, "Does it take long to make a pie?" Hermione nodded slowly in his direction,
"It's Carla...Making a pie is like trying to put raindrops back into a cloud..." She said cautiously, seeing his face fall dramatically but then rise again manically, a small twinkle in his eyes,
"Hey! Heey! Ron! Come here!" She watched her Master fumble over to him, look back to her, and then come back and take her wrist harshly, his fingers and nails digging into her skin, almost as if he did not even realise the pain he was causing her whilst he forcefully dragged her with him. Dropping her by Harry's bed, she sat rubbing her painful wrists as he pushed his face fully into hers,
"You siiit here. Don't listen. Got it 'Mionioneeee?" She nodded, not bothering to point out that she would still be able to hear clearly enough if he stupidly demanded her to sit in such a place. Yet still, exasperatedly, she tried to ignore their conversation, despite how interesting it sounded to her ears. She could barely resist as the two unveiled more about the magical world than she was ever supposed to know, spilling out information that could link all of the snippets of information that she had collected over the previous years of being in their company, her ears pricking with every word that they spoke.
"The Order won't tell us aaanything, only Sirius is even bothered 'bout me! How are we supposed to fight Voldymorty if we can't even go anywhere? We don't know...anything?" Harry yawned widely, the alcohol wearing off a little with the severity of their conversation, but still leaving him slightly giddy,
"You knooow...what mum is like-" Ron gave a small hiccup, "Harry. Number twelve's soooo secret! After the hearing with the Wizengamot over the...the floaty...Dementor type...things, security's gone up! They're not telling anyone anything! Not even us! No no no." Hermione's brow furrowed in heavy confusion,
'Wizengamot? Dementors? What the hell's been going on?' She closed her eyes, almost pretending to be oblivious to them both whilst slyly shifting closer and craning her neck towards them. She knew that the wizarding world held its own for of parliament and high court of law, but could not possibly fathom as to why either Harry or Ron would need to be in the presence of a Wizengamot, especially not due to an incident with Dementors. 'They're meant to be under the control of the Ministry of Magic...why would they be after those two?' She could not have been more confused as she sat there, barely able to continue listening to them as he brain whirred, incapable of understanding or making sense of the information that had been presented to her.
"They're out to get you Harry!"
"Don't I bloody know it? He'll kill me if he can." Hermione shuddered a little, particularly as the two boys gave a small chuckling snort. She had heard about things of this nature, many years ago, barely having been at Hogwarts a year. She had followed Harry and Ron as they had made their way to the third floor of the castle, careful as possible, trying not to get caught out of bed at such hours. This was when she had discovered that Harry had possessed a cloak of invisibility, watching them creep from their dormitory, perform a full body binding curse upon Neville who had tried to stop them losing Gryffindor any house points and then disappear beneath it. She had struggled horrendously, Hermione now understanding the true extent of the mysteriously cloak of silvery fluid-like material that Harry had received the previous Christmas from an unknown sender, only managing to keep up with them by taking note of their bumbling behaviour and prior knowledge that the third floor was out of bounds. They had entered a small door on the corridor and she had barely concealed her astonishment as a large hulking beast had stood before her, dark as night and baring three heads, a great dog stood before them all, baring its great teeth. All she could think in that moment was back to her time reading about Greek mythology the previous year, reciting the name of Cerberus through her mind repeatedly. She had shrieked, straining her voice and attracting the attention of all five heads in the room, before Ron had dived, silencing her whilst she struggled wildly, watching as Harry played a small tune upon a wooden flute he had received from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid. Almost instantaneously, the dog's six lids had begun to droop and as it fell to the floor, slumping lazily into a dazed dream, the three of them breathed a sigh of relief, Ron still holding his arms tightly around Hermione, a hand clamped over her mouth.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Ron had madly whispered at her, not waiting for an answer and dragging her forward towards a trapdoor by the dog's paws and pushing her inside after Harry, ignoring any of her demands and protests. She had landed with a soft flump upon yielding and squashy matter, which suddenly sprang to life, twisting tendrils that wrapped quickly around them, squeezing and suffocating. She had frozen with fear as the boys struggled, suddenly becoming aware of what was attempting to kill them, and allowed herself to be dragged through the plant and thrown to the floor beneath it.
"Stop struggling!" She had screamed up at them, recalling what she had learnt, breaking the rules and having read a library book in an attempt to aid her Master, "Remember the Herbology homework I helped you with last time! It's Devil's Snare! It likes the dark and the damp!" Seeming to have been listening to her intently, Harry had suddenly fallen through next to her, landing awkwardly but scuttling to his feet regardless.
"Light a fire?" He looked to her questioningly optimistic, hoping beyond all hope that she had paid more attention to his homework than he had, regardless of her not being allowed to even have knowledge of it.
"But...there's no wood!" Hermione's brain had suddenly left her, so used to being unable to use magic regardless of being within the school grounds, temporarily oblivious to Harry's status as Carla's Master. He had stared at her silently as if she were backwards, ignoring Ron's constant shrieks of terror from above them, lifting his wand at her in one hand and pointing to it with the other. Having successfully freed their remaining companion, they moved through the adjacent corridor, past an unconscious troll and into a room full of winged keys, flying lazily about the room. Hermione had watched in awe as the boys had mounted broomsticks and chased an old battered key manically, the rest of them now flying hectically in their direction trying to protect said key, eventually capturing it and allowing them access to a room filled with a large chessboard. "Wizard's chess?" She had looked fearfully towards them as she was pushed onto a life sized empty square to take the place of a Rook that had hobbled towards the side of the board intent on watching the unfolding match, listening to Ron bark orders at them.
"Granger! Move where I tell you!" He had waited expectantly for her to take three paces forwards, beginning their game, but she had not moved, standing defiant, shaking slightly.
"No. You tell me right now exactly what's going on!" She had screamed at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, her emotion raging at him.
"Look! We can't tell you!" Ron had shouted back from atop a horse, occupying the place of a Knight, seemingly a fitting place for him to be in his own mind.
"Wait," Interrupted Harry, a torn look upon his face, not knowing how to phrase his next words, "Hermione. We can't tell you much; just we have to do this. Please. You've got to trust us." She had looked at him, seeing the sincerity, seeing who Harry truly was, the man beneath the boy, feeling within herself obliged to do as he asked of her, not wanting to disappoint him or let Carla's Master down, feeling a strong bond being made between them in that instant.
"Just get it done Granger!" Ron had spat at her, destroying the atmosphere his friend had created, forcing her to further move across the board. Yet it had soon become all too apparent, even to her as an inexperienced chess player, as to what was happening, with her Master soon falling at the hands of the White Queen. She had had a desperate urge to run to him, shrieking his name as his body fell to the floor, limp and lifeless, yet Harry had had to end their match, checking the King and then dragging her forward towards the next chamber, leaving her Master behind, where they were confronted by several bottles of varying sizes each with differing contents and a note beside them.
"This...this isn't magic. This is logic." She had proclaimed, reading the contents of the note, "Three are wine, two are poison, one takes you forwards, one takes you back." She had turned to find him staring at her, encouraging her to continue, to indicate the one that he would need. She had bent over the parchment for a few more seconds, definitely and successfully deciphered the contents rapidly. It had been the one of only times she had consumed a potion, the other in her second year, to take her back through a set of blue flames and towards Ron, to recover and drag him towards Professor McGonagall's office so that Professor Dumbledore could be alerted immediately. She found out after about Lord Voldemort, the so called 'You Know Who', and how he was out to return to power and kill Harry along the way, to take over the magical world, pushing the ideas of the Pureblood. Though the details were sketchy, Hermione was able to piece together random snippets of information and retain that it was important he did not do so and was stopped at all costs. And now here she was, listening to the boys talk about being placed upon trial, for a full Wizengamot no less, which could have easily had Harry removed from Hogwarts. And involving Dementors, Hermione could barely believe it. Though they had been about the castle during their third year instead of guarding the wizarding prison, Azkaban, they had been there for a reason, to protect the school for a supposed at large wizarding and Muggle criminal, though it was later revealed to them that Sirius Black had indeed been innocent. She waited patiently, listening once more to her Master and his friend, wanting to know more about their summer activities, know what threat was out there, and know why she was forced into slavery.
"We have to do something you know," Harry said, seeming more sober and now tired from the days festivities, "My scar; it's been hurting so much more lately." He whined at Ron, who shook it off lightly,
"Harry! Mate...it'll be all good!" He yawned, causing Harry to do the same, and to extend a foot at him shoving him lightly off of his bed. Carla having not yet returned, Harry crawled to the edges of his bed and began pulling his hangings about him, giving Ron a small wave before collapsing back into his sheets. This sudden movement disturbed Hermione's trance like state, and she realised that she was sat staring up at her Master, not having noticed that everyone else had retired to their beds, Ron starting to make his way towards his own busily pulling on his dressing gown over his clothes, not bothering to remove any of the garments. He collapsed upon his bed, the only one needing his hangings drawing for him, ready to sleep, and as he lay upon his bed, kicking off his socks, he coughed purposefully, not even looking over to her. She ran forwards and drew them carefully, trying not to disturb anyone else with their scraping, ending up inside with him.
"Good night Master Ron." She sighed, pulling back the drapes, ready to leave him to himself; she was dragged back suddenly onto the bed with him. He had wormed his way under the covers, lying beneath them, comfortable as he could be, his arms now out and wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her from behind as she lay next to him awkwardly. "M-Master?" She tried to release his grip, peeling back his fingers, but he only held on tighter, placing his head in the crook of her neck and breathing deeply, pulling her head back up onto his pillow. She began to panic slightly, unsure of what to do, how to escape from him and avoid punishment the following morning. Yet a casual waft of Mulled Wine reminded her of the likely reason as to why he was doing this, the act that could never normally occur, the side of him that she had only ever seen when she had hid her identity from his at the ball. She sighed, a slight unknown disappointment falling over her as she settled herself comfily for the hours of darkness that were yet to come.
"Night 'Mione."
~x~x~x~
Hermione's eyes fluttered lightly open, feeling a small, warm pressure upon her tightly closed lips. She came face to face with her Master, his lips pushed against hers, gently placing small, slow kisses upon her. She was barely able to think straight, unsure if she was having an erratic dream or had woken from one, to find herself in a true reality, she sleepily responded to his touch as he pulled away from her slightly, pushing her lips back into his and sliding her hand up his arm to his chin, ignoring his twitches from her unexpected response. Only small kisses passed between them, as he pulled her in closer, as if asking for more from her, wanting more from her. Yet her brain suddenly awakened, cold harsh actuality breaking through and she snapping her back into reality, causing her to harshly push him away. Staring wide eyed at him, she watched as his faced opened wide, yawning, and then turned over, evidently returning to his sleep, not aware of what he had just done. Her heart sunk; the feeling of him still evident upon her lips, the knowledge that in reality, her Master had not meant to kiss her, he would have kissed anyone who had been lying next to him in that moment. "Oh shit..." Yet, as her Master seemed not to care, more intent on sleeping that paying her anymore attention, she could not help but compare his kiss to Victors. The young Bulgarian was charming and sweet; want to give her passion filled kisses, to convey all of his emotion for her in a single moment. Yet her Master was different, a dangerous kiss, a forbidden union, even if he would have no knowledge of that instant. "I could have been anyone." She muttered, almost sourly, a bitterness resonating through her voice, "Bastard...not even bothered...probably too pissed to even know...arse..." She huffed heavily and swung her legs over the end of the bed, glaring at the floor for what only seemed like moments before jumping off and pushing her way out of the drapes and over to where she usually sat, intent on waiting for morning in her own miserable way. Yet a sudden cry from Harry's bed bought a large crash about the room, and her head shot up, looking desperately around the side of her Masters bed, only to find Harry sat on top of a squirming Carla, who was flailing about, wrapped in several sheets of bedding as well as her own clothing, not able to escape for Harry's weight.
"Ron!" Shouted Harry, stirring the rest of the room from their slumbers, heavy groans escaping their lips at the unwanted awakening. Ron's shadow could be seen as he shot up, his head moving about wildly before he flashed his head out into the open, pushing the drapes back hurriedly. "Your dad! It's your dad! He's been attacked!" Harry screamed at him, not caring about the scene he was creating, only wanting to alert Ron to the danger.
"What?" Ron looked at him ludicrously, as if he had awoken into some kind of nightmare world, "Harry...how can you possibly know that?" His words were still slightly slurred, though any alcohol seemed to have majorly worn off, the severity of the situation suddenly dawning upon him, despite his confusion.
"I...I saw! I had a vision!" Harry had stood up and detangled himself from his servant and had then dragged her up beside him, not caring for her dishevelled form, only that the circumstances were imminently urgent. "We have to go to Dumbledore! McGonagall! Anyone! He's really hurt Ron! I'm not pissing you about!" He began to drag Carla towards the door, not caring that he was only in his underwear, not caring if Ron followed or not, desperate to get to some form of authority and get his friends father the assistance that he required immediately. Ron looked to over Hermione, slow, confused and unable to decide exactly what to do,
"Well. Get moving!" She threw a large woollen jumper in his direction and then pulled herself up from the floor and made for the ajar door herself, pulling it open wide and standing by it, waiting for him to follow her. As he slowly made his way towards her, she gave him an almighty shove and together, they both raced after Harry who was now feverishly gibbering away to an emerald green robed Professor McGonagall upon the sixth floor landing, a confused Carla currently being interrogated by the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower, Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, also known to them as Nearly Headless Nick, who was Pearly white and semitransparent and was busily stroking his beard and moustache, wiggling his thick eyebrows with every question he posed to the young terrified Muggleborn, busily arranging his usual doublet and particularly large ruff which was ensuring that his head did not wobble too much as he spoke. Both Ron and Hermione exited the common room and descended the flight of stairs hurriedly towards the small group, McGonagall giving them all a small, short grave nod, speaking lowly
"The Headmaster's office, now." She nodded towards the group, beckoning them to follow her down the staircase, throwing he head back behind her, "Sir Porpington, to the tower, watch over the students."
As they reached the third floor, they strode down a long corridor, arriving at a stone gargoyle who demanded the password from them in a low growling, gravelly voice, "Fizzing Whizzbees." Stated McGonagall swiftly, to which it hopped aside obediently, revealing a large opening, a staircase now available to them. "Up you go, Professor Dumbledore will be waiting for you. I'll bring your sister and brothers up immediately." With that, she left them to step upon the now moving stone staircase that carried them upwards in a spiralling motion, giving Hermione a sickening feeling within the pit of her stomach, though she was unsure if it was from the movements or in light of what had recently occurred. As they reached the top of the tower, they stepped onto the open landing faced with a large solid oak door which Harry pushed open and all four of them walked into a large circular room with many windows and occupied by dozens of portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses. The office had also played host to a number of spindly tables upon which were set delicate looking silver instruments that whirred and emitted small puffs of smoke, as well as an incredible collection of books, which made up Dumbledore's private library, his Pensieve, and Fawkes the Phoenix, who sat perched high above a golden armchair in which the Headmaster himself currently sat adorning a pointy wizard's cap, long majestic robes, stroking his lengthy silver untethered beard.
"Harry, Ron, Miss Granger, Miss Whittacker." He nodded to them in turn, his glittering blue eyes peering at them over the rim of his half moon spectacles. "Professor McGonagall informs me that Arthur Weasley has been injured and you were witness to this."
"The snake professor! Voldemort's snake! It's attacked him, in the Department of Mysteries!" Dumbledore stared at him intently, almost as if he could not decide whether to scold Harry, or to laugh at him, and then turned to a portrait with short, black bangs behind him that had been listening intently. "Professor Everard, to your portrait in the Ministry, make sure he's found by the right people." He then turned to another, a clever looking wizard, with black hair, dark eyes, a pointed beard and thin eyebrows, who was pretending to be asleep, one eyes slightly open and observing. He was depicted as wearing the green and silver colours associated with Slytherin House, "Professor Phineas Nigellus Black," He addressed the portrait directly, who opened his eyes quickly and looked at Dumbledore expectantly and eagerly, "Grimmauld Place, alert the Order." Both people vanished from their portraits, walking into their frames and disappearing, and Dumbledore turned back to face them. "You should all go there; you'll be met by Sirius." The door behind them opened and in walked Ginny, Fred and George, looking tired, horrified, followed by a dishevelled McGonagall who was busily rearranging her large point hat and squared spectacles awkwardly. Walking from behind his desk, Dumbledore produced a small blackened kettle, taking it down from a cabinet full of various seemingly useless items, along with two long pieces of cloth. "My apologies." He said kindly to the two confused Muggleborns, hoping that they would understand as they watched, terrified as their Masters took the cloths and wrapped them around their eyes, blocking their vision. All Hermione could think was that she had to trust her headmaster, knowing that hecould always find something to value in anyone, however apparently insignificant or wretched, with the great humanity and sympathy that he possessed. She felt Ron take both of her hands in his, placing one upon the kettle along with his own and several others, keeping the other in his own, squeezing tightly. "Portus." Came Dumbledore's calm and controlled voice, and a sudden sharp twitch took over her, feeling like a hook had been attached somewhere behind her navel, pulling her towards another unknown location.
Japan's Arc Angel x
