A/n: I did so love Fractures. This story though, this story has been in my head since before Fractures. Long awaited.
Warning for every chapter: Slavery. Dubious consent. Violence. Mentions of rape. Death. Assault. General gore warnings. Please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.
Enjoy...
Chapter Four
The sun has faded, the smog growing thick, and the rain has arrived. Feet splash amongst the puddles on cobbled stone, carrying the limp body. A groan escapes-tired lips, a look shared between exhausted men. The cart waits, the bodies of three others piled high, the Thestral waiting.
"Could lend a hand ya know." The older man mutters to the driver of the cart.
No reply from the driver, cursing, they lumber towards the cart, a foot slipping from between the younger man's arms. With a heave they throw the body onto the carriage, leaning heavily against it.
"Heavier than he looks." The younger man mutters catching his breath.
He rings out his cap, the rain has drenched it through. His brown hair sticking to his forehead, he rubs his face. He needs a cold pint at the pub. Lifting the limp limb hanging from the cart he throws it back onto the cart.
"Steady," The older man warns.
"Guys dead he ain't going to know."
"Got to respect the dead," The older man retorts studying the deceased face. "Besides he's just a lad. Younger than you. Poor bastard."
"Hey, look at that, he still got his wand."
He spots the wand pointing out from the deceased sleeve, he had always thought they removed the wands before hanging. Lifting the sleeve, a good-looking wand, cherry coloured, he struggles to make out the length. Unicorn hair, it's got to be looks a lot like his own.
Smack.
Gasping he pulls his hand away, clutching the limb to his body, the older man glowering at him.
"Bad luck to take a dead wizard's wand."
"He doesn't need it, could sell it for a few knuts."
"No," the older man spits. "It's bad luck to touch the dead's belongings. Now, make sure this inept don't ride off before I get back."
Rolling his eyes, he folds his arms watching the older man stalk off. The rain pelts his coat, and the smell from the bodies makes him wince. Rotting in jail before hanging the smell is overwhelming, death is a blessing.
Blimey, he is young. He thinks to himself studying the deceased wizard, his face spotted with bruises. Hard to distinguish any features over the beatings. The wand though is so pretty. Glancing over his shoulder, he makes sure the older man hasn't returned before reaching for the wand.
Slowly, he pulls it free from its holster. The handsome wand wouldn't have been cheap, and Ollivander's. He can sell this in Knockturn alley for a handsome price. It makes him wonder what the lad did to be hung and what he needs to do not to be hung.
Running his fingers across the wand, he enjoys the feel, maybe he should keep it. Sell his own, would it bend to his will now its master is dead.
A clammy hand clasps around his own, and a scream leaves his lips. Brown eyes stare back at him, the hand pulling the wand back. Jumping away, he watches the once deceased man rise from the cart. Placing his wand back in its holster, he nods his head before walking away.
Swallowing, he watches the wizard disappear into the alleyway, heart pounding. He was dead, hung, he had seen the hanging himself hell on earth did the wizard walk away?
"Right, let's get this… Where's the dead guy?" The older man demands coming to a stop in front of the cart.
Confused, speechless, he merely points towards the alleyway, in the direction where the wizard walked off.
"He went that way."
"What?"
"He got up and walked that way."
"He dead."
"He ain't now."
They stare at the empty alleyway, the thestral scuffing at the street, impatient. Sharing a look, they stare back at the cart.
"We don't say a word, agreed?" The older man instructs.
"Agreed."
Climbing onto the back of the cart, they hit the side, ordering it to move.
"Told you not to touch the dead guy's wand."
Two hours earlier…
Silence. Popping the cork from her potion she takes a swig before leaning back against the wall. Her wand sitting next to her, it feels like a foreign object sometimes. Her anger, a creature she struggles to contain, Luna a reminder of that. A red abrasion to the younger witch's neck, it's sore, and tears are threatening to fall.
An apology weighs heavy on Hermione's tongue, but her lips refuse to allow it to be uttered. They sit and collapsed on the floor a few feet apart. They could hang her for touching a pureblood, without good reason. It's a second thought to the guilt she feels, she fails to look at the other witch. Cannot look at the witch who had once seen Hermione as a human, not just a servant forever ruined.
She should go, she has overstayed her welcome and should leave Luna alone. There's only darkness to be found here, nothing good will come with mingling with Hermione. How she could even think the witch could have been responsible for the attack, she doesn't know. Foolish, hot-headed. Too quick to jump to judgement. Where did she put the items; she needs to leave quickly, quietly?
"Can I?" The voice makes Hermione jump. Luna kneeling next to her. "Can I?"
Bewildered, Hermione nods, allowing the younger witch to take her hand. Soft, Luna's hands are so soft, gentle no abrasions. Not like Hermione's hand, cracked from labour. Another reminder of their difference.
"I should leave," Hermione mutters pulling her hand away.
"No, please stay." Luna whispers.
Glancing up, Hermione swallows at the red neck, her hex. She did that. She used her magic to hurt another, to torture another. Mistress would be proud. She feels sick, tears prickle her eyelashes, and she wipes them away furiously. She has no right to feel sorry for herself. Pushing to her feet, she pulls her hand back.
"I'm sorry," The words jump from her mouth. "I…
The words die on her lips, what can she say? Stay away from me? It's not safe, she will never be safe. Luna is best to keep away. She's sorry for ruining something that could have been so pure. Sorry for burning the trust, literally.
She freezes, her body locking in place. Hands thrown around her shoulders, the soft body pressed against her own. Hands at her side, she's not sure how to react. Not since she was born has, she been hugged, not since they came in the night. Death Eaters. Three years old, they arrived at the witching hour, knocking down the front door. Ripped her from her mother's arms.
It's with horror she realises she's crying, they are both crying. Luna crying into her shoulder, she can feel the tears through her cloak. Hermione's unravelling, coming undone. Her hands remain by her side, is she allowed to hug Luna? Should she hug Luna?
"You can hug me," Luna instructs.
Her body moves on its own accord, accepting the hug, her arms wrapping around the girls' shoulders. Their height difference is more pronounced, her actions cause Luna to hug her tighter, to cry harder. Did she do something wrong?
"No," Luna whispers, "You haven't done anything wrong."
"Then why are you crying?" Hermione asks, her tears have dried. "You can have the rest of my potion to help with the pain. Or I can make you one if you have the equipment…"
"I'm not in pain." Luna whispers.
"Then why?"
"Because…"
"You feel sorry for me." Realisation dawns as she pulls out the hug, Hermione's not angry, just tired. "Please stop, I am lucky, truly I am. I am sorry for hurting you, I should never have done that. If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, I most certainly will. But do not waste your tears, I am lucky and happy."
"You believe that don't you?" Luna asks wiping her tears. "Truly believe that."
"Of course, my mistress is fair, I am honoured to serve Lady Lestrange."
"She's lucky to have you."
"I'm not so sure about that," Hermione scoffs.
"You truly think you are the reason she was put in harm's way?"
"My runes…"
"Let me put it this way, if Lady Lestrange did think you responsible, do you not think she would have punished you by now?" Luna interrupts.
It's an excellent question, her Mistress would have taught her a lesson by now if she had thought Hermione responsible. Regardless of Hermione's state last night, her Mistress would have still dealt punishment. This means she does not consider it Hermione's fault.
Smiling, Luna squeezes Hermione's hand. Pulling her wand free, Luna points the tip against her neck, healing herself instantly. Guilt tugs at Hermione's stomach, unable to look at the witch out of regret.
"Would you like me to look at your side," Luna asks?
"No, that's not necessary," Hermione replies gratefully. "I would not wish to burden you."
"You're not a burden Hermione," Luna replies. "Please, I'd like to see if I can help."
"I… I don't know anyone who can heal."
"No one in Lestrange's household?" Luna questions surprised.
"No, we can only do the basics, cuts etc. Nothing technical."
"What of Lady Lestrange."
"Your sweet but she would not waste her time on healing me. It's bad enough we had to get a healer, so embarrassing."
"You would have died." Luna reminds ushering Hermione to lift her top.
"How foolish," Hermione shakes her head, lifting her top. "Better than my mistress paying for a healer at such an hour."
"You'd rather die?"
"If it means not embarrassing or disrupting my mistress, very much so."
With a tight smile, Luna focuses on the healing wound. Sucking in a breath, she summons a chair for Hermione to sit on. Slowly, Hermione lowers herself onto the chair, back straight, and she fidgets with her thumbs. Feeling strange for someone to be paying so much attention.
"Honestly," Hermione breaks the silence. "If it's an issue, I don't wish to put you out."
"How are you still standing?" Luna breathes, studying the angry marks. "Your lucky to be alive."
"Yes, so everyone keeps telling me," Hermione remarks, glancing down at the injury.
"No, Hermione. You should be dead." Luna replies seriously.
It's unnerving to see the witch so serious, so solemn.
"If you can't heal…" Hermione mutters, uncomfortable under the scrutinising gaze she tries to stand.
"I can relieve some of the pain," Luna answers pushing Hermione back down. "It will heal much quicker if you'd let me."
Nodding, Hermione waits patiently for the witch to start. Frowning, when nothing happens, the younger witch chews her lip.
"Is everything okay?" Hermione asks, wondering if the witch has changed her mind.
"It's going to hurt," Luna warns.
"Oh, that's okay."
"No, it will hurt."
"I will be fine, thank you for the concern. I will silence myself so as not to disturb your father."
"That's not what I was worried about." Luna trails off.
Flicking her hand, Hermione silences herself, nodding for the witch to continue. Luna spoke the truth it does hurt, it steals a cry, and she clutches her trousers. Forces her mouth shut watching the healing in morbid curiosity. The pain is nothing compared to some of her Mistress curses, but it registers amongst her top five experiences. Yesterday, she had too much blood loss to feel the pain.
She wants to ask Luna to teach her, and show her how to use such a spell. It would be beneficial to the household if she could heal. Beneficial to her mistress. No. She cannot ask Luna to teach her, has she forgotten her station. Luna is just being polite, but once this is over they must never speak again. She is foolish to come here. Although, she had come looking for answers, gained relief knowing the attack last night was not her fault. It still does not ease the nagging concern; she may not be immediately responsible for the attack on her mistress. Someone still managed to break into the household.
"There," Luna states. "That'll help it heal. Should be better in a few days."
"Thank you."
Nodding, Luna lowers the top back down, tucking her wand away she smiles brightly at Hermione. How did Hermione get so lucky at meeting this witch? A blush makes its way across Luna's cheeks, her eyes dart away. Cute. Smirking, Hermione remembers the witch tends to wander uninvited into people's minds. If the blush is anything to go by, Luna has heard every thought.
"Sorry," Hermione apologises rising to her feet, relieved not to feel any pain. "I did not wish to make you uncomfortable."
"You didn't," Luna reassures. "Not many people think they're lucky to meet me."
"Why? Your amazing," Hermione reassures. "So kind, thoughtful and insightfully smart."
"Careful," Luna warns dipping her head flustered "If you keep speaking like that, I might not let you leave."
"Hmm, if I didn't think my mistress would miss my work, I'd stay."
"You would?" Luna whispers.
Stepping forward, Hermione cups the younger witch's cheek, meeting those bright blue eyes. Her thumb traces the chin, gorgeous, one word to describe the witch.
"I can only speak the truth," Hermione answers with a soft smile. "You are all those things and more, don't let anyone tell you differently."
Releasing the witch, Hermione steps away, moving to collect her items she must return to the manor before someone questions her disappearance. Pausing, Hermione's hands hover over the bag containing her items. Frowning at the paper strewn across the desk. Plucking the first piece, her eyes scan the page realisation slowly dawning.
"You print these?" Hermione asks.
"Do you like it?"
"Poetry," Hermione mutters. "Muggle poetry."
"Yes."
"Luna this is muggle poetry," Hermione replies turning to face the witch. "You can't have this."
"I can."
"No, Luna if they get wind, you have this. If anyone finds out,"
"Are going to tell them?"
"No, course not, but it's not the point."
"Then what is the harm?"
"Do you publish this?"
"Sometimes, yes."
"How?"
"We don't publish under the quibbler," Luna answers taking the poem. "There are ways of getting things to the public subtly, of course."
"It's stupidly dangerous."
"But necessary."
"Are you one of them? Part of that resistance, they just hung a wizard for less."
"No, I don't think so." Luna shrugs. "I just think it's important, freedom of speech is important."
"I need to go," Hermione mutters gathering her supplies.
She cannot stay here if anyone saw her leave if this got back to her mistress. Hermione could not be responsible for anything to happen to the witch.
"You know this poem," Luna states calmly, causing Hermione to stop in her tracks.
"Shakespeare." Hermione answers. "Sonnet 18,"
"You know it."
"I do."
"How?"
"I think the less said the better."
"Do you write?"
"Sorry?" Hermione replies.
"Do you write poems, memoirs?"
"Maybe."
"How about a trade?" Luna asks. "Show me what you have written."
"Why would you want…"
"And I will teach you how to heal, more than Episkey."
"You say this as though we can meet again," Hermione shakes her head. "Luna I'd love to but, I cannot just easily see you. My presence will be missed."
"We can find a way." Luna pleads. "Please, I want to see you again."
It's impossible, completely impossible. If anyone were to find out both would be in so much trouble. Luna potentially more so, if any harm were to befall the witch, she's not sure what she would do. No, she cannot let this happen.
"I am more than capable of making my own decisions." Luna interrupts Hermione's thought process. "You will not make the decision on my behalf I want to see you again. This is entirely up to you if you want to see me again."
"I don't know what to say."
"Say yes."
"Fine, yes. But I cannot guarantee anything."
"Fear not, I will think of a way to reach you. Think of a way to meet."
Shaking her head, Hermione forces a smile, she's not sure how or if it's possible, but she will allow the witch to dream.
"Thank you for healing me." Hermione forces the words out.
"Any time," Luna replies watching Hermione head to the exit. "And Hermione, I will see you again. Count on it."
"We'll see."
The door closes loudly behind her she nods at Mr Lovegood who throws a happy wave. Lifting her hood, she slips from the shop, the door jingling on her exit. She takes a different route back to the floo network not daring to attract any unwanted attention. The rain is quick to soak her, but she cannot bring herself to cast a charm.
She bumps shoulders with another, she frowns at the wizard who merely nods his head. She recognises him, but she cannot place him anywhere. How does she recognise the scruffy wizard?
"Sorry." He whispers turning he walks away.
Shaking the thought, she heads through the alleyway, nearly bumping into a cart. Bowing her head in respect for the deceased, she glances to the floo network time is getting away.
"How was I know he'd raise from the dead?" One of the men mutters from the cart.
Frowning, Hermione ignores the comment heading to the floo network, the sky crackling with lightning. People dart about running from the rain, there wasn't meant to be rain today.
She's drowning, in the London rain, standing on the veranda overlooking the gardens, more importantly overlooking the caged dogs. They are antsy tonight, in the distance, she can make out the faint glow of the town, of Diagon alley. As far as the house is concerned, Lady Lestrange has not yet returned, Angelina had taken the supplies to the room ready.
Hermione needed a minute, away from the manor, a minute to her thoughts. She loved the rain, if she imagines just enough, she can imagine the rain washing away her sins. The dogs howl below, they terrify her, not the cute dogs owned by some houses. No these are savage beasts, creatures that only know one thing.
The black dog paces its enclosure always kept separate from the others, always on its own. She's not sure why, she's also not sure how old the creature is, it's been here longer than she has. Some of the other hounds have passed before that one. It's a mystery, one she will probably never understand. All she knows is these hounds love their mistress, bar the black one. That one fears its mistress, but it does as it's told.
"Do we not supply umbrellas when I'm away?" The cold voice makes her jump.
She jumps back from the stone wall, leaning inappropriately, as though she owned the house and not a servant. Glancing sideways, she spots her mistress appearing from the gloom of the night, peering over the wall at the hounds below.
"Apologies mistress," Hermione mutters. "I was caught out in the rain."
"Hmm, I forgot your indulgence for rain." Lady Lestrange comments off-hand. "They're antsy tonight."
"I'm not sure why," Hermione replies gratefully for the conversation to steer from her embarrassing state. "The staff have checked the grounds as well as the house, there are no intruders."
"I'm sure they have," The rain pelts an invisible shield not daring to touch the beauty beneath. "Quiet him!"
The snap makes her jump, and one of the nearby servants scurries towards the black dog. To follow the Lady's command, rubbing her temple, the lady of the house leans against the stone railing glowering at the hounds.
"Mangy beasts." She grumbles under her breath.
"Mistress, if I may?"
"You may not."
Falling silent, Hermione considers if she should leave it would appear her Mistress is not in a talkative mood. Perhaps she was wrong perhaps her mistress does hold her responsible. Maybe it was all some sort of ploy to lead Hermione into a false sense of security.
Luna would want to listen. She shushes her traitorous mind, the less said about the blonde the better. She should attend to her duties, the hounds are now being managed she has no reason to remain.
A sigh escapes red lips, a finger taps impatiently against the stone. Something or someone has annoyed her mistress, Hermione should make herself scarce.
"What was it?" Bellatrix demands.
"I'm sorry?" Hermione asks miles away.
"Your question Granger, what was it?"
"Oh, that one," She points to the black dog. "How old is he?"
"That's your question?" A curious glance from the Lady of the house, a deep sigh. "Sirius,"
"Sirius?" Hermione replies.
"His name is Sirius."
"I wasn't aware they had names, apologies."
"They don't, just him," Bellatrix replies tersely. "Why do you want to know?"
"He been here as long as I have maybe longer, I just wondered, it's not important." Hermione shakes her head. "I should return to my duties."
"You probably should," Bellatrix nods absently. "Thirty-six, I think. I lose track."
"How is that possible?" Hermione asks intrigued.
"Magic." Is the mysterious answer.
Pushing away from the stone railings, the hounds have grown quiet, satisfying the Lady of the house. She observes the oldest dog, a curious look crossing the witch's face, one Hermione cannot place.
"He's like family I suppose." Bellatrix comments. "You look a state."
Swallowing, Hermione glances down at her attire, it's true she's sodden, looking like a drenched rat. Self consciously she tugs her cloak tighter, the action gaining her mistress's attention, a smirk flicking across red lips.
"You look much better today; you were ever so pale yesterday." Does that mean her mistress was concerned for her well-fare, the thought feels her with misguided hope? "I thought I was going to have to look for a replacement. You know I am not a fan of change."
"Apologies mistress," Hermione replies solemn, her actions were foolish.
"Your… off," Bellatrix comments focusing on Hermione. "Something is different. Was it the hanging?"
How is she to answer her mistress, she should have left the moment her mistress arrived. She is a fool if she thinks she can deceive her mistress. A cold hand grasps her chin tilting her head to look her mistress in the eyes.
"You're hiding something, what is it?" Lestrange demands.
Flustered, Hermione grips her cloak, what is she to say? That she spent the afternoon with another witch, a pureblood no less? What can she possibly say? Her mistress would be furious, but lying is not an option, her mistress always knows when she's lying.
"I'm sorry," she struggles with her words dark eyes narrowing. "While I was shopping for supplies, I… I felt unwell, on my side. I brought a potion, I'm so sorry Mistress, it wasn't my money…"
"A potion?" Her mistress interrupts.
Digging in her pocket, Hermione retrieves the empty potion, handing it to her Mistress. Bowing her head, not daring to meet those eyes, she should not have used the money. It wasn't hers, it's not like she can repay her mistress.
The cork hits the ground, a sniff of the empty bottle the hand never leaving her chin. Will she receive lashings? A curse, she's not sure she can handle anything right now.
"I will let it slide." Lady Lestrange replies thrusting the potion back into Hermione's hand.
"Mistress?"
"This time," the subtle warning. "I will let it slide. Least I can do, you did so heroically push me out of the way of harm's way."
The hand relaxes on her chin, slowly caressing the side of Hermione's face and pushing back the wet hair. A shiver runs through her body, she leans into the touch. If any of the servants see this, what would they think? Regardless, she cannot break this contact, not when those nails are gently caressing behind her ear.
"Gryffindor," Bellatrix mutters. "I should steal the hat, see where it'd sort you."
"My lady?"
"Hogwarts trash," Bellatrix disregards her comment not wanting to elaborate. "Maybe Ravenclaw, what with that brain of yours."
Flushing, Hermione fidgets with the bottle in her hand, not sure what to say or how to comment.
"There's deception though, if it weren't for your blood, you would have made a good Slytherin."
"I don't think so," Hermione mutters, gasping as the nail catches, eyes flashing dangerously.
"You disagree with me?"
"No, yes," Hermione mumbles tripping on words.
"Speak up pet, I won't have you muted again." Danger laces the tone.
"What I mean is, I could never belong to a house that could ever produce…"
"Don't stop there." A threat.
"Produce… Some of the most talented witches and wizards, it would be an insult to yourself my lady. To the Dark Lord to sully such an impressive house."
The hand returns to soothing, brushing behind the ear, glossing over the mark on her neck. A thoughtful look on Lestrange's face as she considers the words.
"Hmm, definitely a Gryffindor." A murmur from red lips. "Brazen. So very brazen."
The hand retracts, leaving her cold, the rain pelting her face, bringing her back to reality. Suddenly very cold, very aware of how wet she is.
"Change Granger," Her mistress dismisses her. "Don't leave puddles on my floor it's bad enough they were tainted with blood last night."
Bowing her head, Hermione creeps out of sight, pulling her wand from her pocket, and she dries herself instantly. Berating herself for being in such a state. So foolish, what is wrong with her?
