Disclaimer: Harry Potter is all JK Rowling's. Although now I own the Goblet of Fire DVD…that's something…
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It was time.
Ginny screamed as pain shot through her and her baby came into the world. Everything was quite then. Tense. Waiting. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see what she was sure would happen.
The smell of burned flesh didn't come. The scream of death didn't fill the air. Ginny smiled and finally opened her eyes. She looked down at her baby.
It stared up at her with eyes black and empty as decay. It opened its mouth, and Ginny could see the rot that filled it, eating it from inside. And then the wail began.
It filled the air – a shill, hissing shriek. Ginny felt blood dripping from her ears as the sound pierced and ripped through her. She dropped her corpse child, and when it hit the ground, black blood pooled from underneath it, blood that smelled of molded earth, of twisted elements.
And the eyes came again. The eyes Harry had dimmed and killed. The red glare that would haunt everyone who had seen it forever.
Silently screaming, Ginny shot up from her bed. She had trained herself not to scream out loud, not to wake the man sleeping next to her. He had too much to worry about already.
Standing up, Ginny felt the soft, cold breeze dry the sweat on her forehead. A chill ran through her, and she walked slowly around their small camp. They had been walking for days, but hadn't found an area clear enough to set up camp. There had been a hotel that looked promising, but the dead bodies had proven to be too plenty to move. Now they were in a park, next to the charred, twisted metal that was once a children's playground.
Walking closer to a cluster of trees, a small sound caught Ginny's ear. A branch rustling. As she realized the wind wasn't strong enough to move even the smallest twig, Ginny felt her hair stand on end. Something…somebody was watching her.
"Who's there?" Her voice reached through the dark shakily. A shadow moved in the trees, and her breath caught in her throat. It was a man.
He stepped out, and the moon illuminated the cloaked figure. A hood still shadowed his eyes, but she could make out full lips and dark skin. He reached his hands up and she tensed, her fingers curling around her concealed wand. He hesitated at her slight movement, but continued, letting his long fingers grasp his hood and pull it down to rest on slim shoulders.
His eyes were light brown and contrasted with his darker skin, which molded with his cloak almost seamlessly. The moonlight shined on every curve of his skin, and his expression was kind. Ginny let out her breath, her lungs sighing with relief.
"Who are you?" He had a slight lilt to his voice that Ginny couldn't quite place, but his words sounded harmless, even curious.
"My name's Ginny…you've been following us."
"Yes. I thought you saw me the day you emerged from the ground, but I knew you couldn't be sure. They call me Hunter…none of us remembers our true names."
Ginny let out a small sound of surprise. "There are others?"
"Many. We have all been curious of you, but I am the only one who can sense what you all can do. Magic."
"Can't you?"
"I don't know…it is not like yours, the wizards' magic that destroyed everyone else, it's different. We do not know how, or what it is, but each of us can do things."
"Do you remember anything of your life?"
"Not much before the Awakening. Hints, dreams, déjà vu. That is all. We only remember the War, waking up in the middle of it able to do things we had never imagined. Our friends and family…the ones we could remember…were gone, destroyed by madness or worse. And the wizards were fighting all around us, killing without mercy. It was when the green light filled the world that we went into hiding. When we finally came out again, everyone was gone. Until I smelled you coming from beneath."
"Smelled?" Ginny didn't know whether to be offended or simply confused.
"I can smell, or sense, where your type of magic is or has been. The air is always ripe with it, but in some places or on certain people it stands out. I can tell how fresh it is, how powerful, and what type of curse. Right now you are in evil lands, Ginny. A battle was fought here, one of the last. The cruel magic lingers longer than the good."
Something sparked in Ginny. "So you can tell where it is safer?"
"Nowhere is completely untouched. But relatively, yes."
"Hunter," The name sounded primitive on her tongue, "The babies born since the war have been dying because of the magic in the air. It even resided under the ground. Will you help me find a safe place to give birth to my child?"
For the first time, Hunter glanced at Ginny's stomach and his eyes grew wide. "There is much magic within your womb, Ginny." He hesitated. "I should be going back to my people…"
"We can go to them first, and explain. Please, Hunter. I need this baby to be okay." She saw the uncertainty in his eyes. "What if I teach you more of life before the world, about my people and yours? We called you Muggles." The hint of information made his face twist with interest. "I can help you remember, and my friends and I will try to figure out what changed you."
Their eyes met, and Hunter finally nodded consent. "I will try and help you. But do not hold too much hope, for it is unlikely we will find a safe enough place."
For the first time in days, Ginny felt her baby move. "I won't."
It was a lie.
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"Finally…you have come." The voice was silky, a smooth hiss that was reminiscent of sleek oil. Hermione stepped in the great room in front of her, the rage building in her chest because of Malachi settling with unease.
A throne glittered in the back of the room, encrusted with diamonds and gold. The man sitting in it was no less adorned, with a crown made of pure, deeply colored jewels. He had on a robe of pure black fur, and his face looked silky with pampering.
"You are mine, and He will never find you." A smile revealed gleaming teeth, and the rage flared up again in Hermione's chest.
"Are we objects to be coveted, milord?" She said the title with a sneer, causing the smile to disappear and Draco to visibly tense beside her. "What do you want with us?"
"Do not press your luck, Hermione," he said her name casually but she felt the meaning behind it. He knew things about her, and she could not know how. She had the disadvantage. "You are coveted for reason, and I know you know that reason."
"I know no such thing." Doubt clouded her mind. She truly didn't know why there was such greed in the man's voice – what the reason was that he was so desperately clinging to.
He turned to Draco. "Are you going to play the same game as your companion, Draco, or will you tell me your secret?"
"I…I have no secret." There was fear in his voice, and Hermione glanced at him with a smirk. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins, and she felt high with it. The fury over being trapped in her own mind had awoken something within her, something that had been asleep since the day Ron fell.
"We don't have whatever it is you want. Let us go."
The king smiled humorlessly. "I'm afraid that is not an option. He wants you, and I will find out why. You know, I'm sure of it. And I will get it out of you if it's the last thing you do before I flay the skin off your bodies." His voice was utterly calm as he described his idea of their fate.
The king nodded to Malachi, and the creature grabbed Hermione and Draco and dragged them out of the room. "I will take you to your quarters. You are not to leave the palace, although you may leave your rooms if you do not cause any trouble."
The rest of the commute was silent, with only their echoing footsteps to listen to. Soon, Malachi stopped in front of two doors and ushered them inside. It was a living room, with great Persian rugs on the ground and a stone fireplace trimmed with gold. Tapestries showing bloody battles hung on the walls, and two doors led to similarly decorated rooms, with a connecting bathroom.
"My lord wants his prisoners to have full comfort, so that they cooperate sooner. As much as he loves an execution, he would rather have information. Remember that."
With his final warning, Malachi glided out of the room with the grace that seemed so unnatural paired with his body. Silence overcame Hermione and Draco as they looked around their lavish prison.
"As long as you stay away from me, Mudblood."
Hermione spun around to face Draco, her frustration and eagerness to fight exploding. "You know Malfoy, in one battle, I was faced with a Death Eater who called me the same thing. A Death Eater a thousand times more experienced than you, bigger than you, and stronger than you. I decimated him with a flick of my wrist." She pulled out her wand, advancing toward the boy in front of her. "I can't use that kind of power because of whatever magical hold this place has on our wands, but I can cause you pain you've only imagined in these years rotting away by yourself. I faced Voldemort and killed him with my friends." She laughed in disgust. "And look at you. You still flinch at the sound of his name."
She turned away from his stunned face, her shoulders drooping at the remembrance of her friends. Of Ginny, who was due soon, whose baby had to live. Of Harry, the bravest man she had met, the bravest little boy she would ever know. Of Ron. Oh Merlin, of Ron. She loved him – of that she was sure. But it went beyond love. He was the most stubborn person, but she had been sure she would always be able to rely on him in the end. And now he was gone…not physically, but as gone as he could be without dying. Almost as gone as Snape.
"You always treated them…us…like we were lower than you." She turned to face him again, not caring about the tears streaming down her cheeks. "But in reality, you had no idea what life was like, no idea about love and true equality. Blood makes no difference, Draco, but love does. The Weasleys loved everybody so much, and you're family helped murder them, torture them while their children watched. If that's what you think deserves praise, if killing is what you think makes people strong, then you are more ignorant than I ever believed."
She walked around their room, and suddenly a glimmer in the corner caught her eye. She smiled, suddenly knowing how to describe to Draco exactly what she had seen, what she had done. She walked over to the basin half uncovered by a green velvet sheet, and motioned Draco to her side.
"What is it?" He sounded nervous, and looked into what looked like rapidly swirling water. Hermione put her wand to her head and drew out a silky strand of memory.
"It's a Pensieve."
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A/N: What will Hermione show Draco? Will we learn what exactly happened to Ron? What will Ginny discover when Hunter leads them to his people?
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