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 Fourteen
Pacing, her dinner remains uneaten, her father has left for the night. The floor creaks with every step, fingers tapping restlessly. She should tell her, shouldn't she? Hermione needs to know; she needs to tell her.
"Would mistress Luna, like a calming draught?" Pepper the house-elf enquires watching the witch pace.
"No, thank you," Luna replies absently. "I should tell her though, shouldn't I?"
"I find honesty is always the best thing." Pepper replies with a firm nod. "Would Miss Luna like me to reheat her dinner."
"No thank you," Luna sighs rubbing her face. "I've lost my appetite."
Angry, Pepper is not happy with the reply, but she won't argue. Sometimes Luna, wishes the elf would reply. Would argue, that to tell her no, she must eat her dinner. Heaven knows the elf has been looking after Luna since before her mother died. Regardless, the elf remains quiet while collecting the plate.
Sighing, Luna reaches for her juice, swigging the glass. The food moved out of sight. Smiling, she stares down at the memoirs on the table, Hermione's. It's as though she has a piece of the witch that no one else has ever seen. Not even her mistress. It's been nearly two weeks since Luna last saw the Red Kite. Since Hermione left for the assembly.
She resumes pacing, her mind no longer calm. What if something happened? How would she know? It's not as though Lestrange would inform her. It's not as though Lestrange would keep her Red Kite safe. Anger it's a foreign concept in Luna's life, but recently it has grown. Resentment. It has grown steadily over the last few weeks. Resentment for Lady Lestrange.
At night, when alone, when she struggles to sleep, sometimes she imagines it. Imagines, hurting the other witch, lashings, how would Lady Lestrange like lashings. The memories held in Hermione's mind, they're horrific. Regardless, Luna knows, knows where Hermione's loyalty lies. Even now, she knows Hermione would defend her mistress.
Resentment.
She should tell Hermione, but the words never make it past her lips. Since that night of the Lestrange ball, since she saw Hermione. Her father is always proud of her talent, and her ability to see into others' minds. Sometimes, it's a curse, she works hard to keep it under control. Heaven, forbid she slips into the wrong mind, some people would be able to tell. Lestrange nearly caught her once, it's why she keeps her distance, and she would love to give the witch the piece of her medicine.
A curse, it's more of a curse, a burden. Seeing everyone's inner thoughts, their inner turmoil. The crude, disgusting thoughts, the sad thoughts that run wild in their minds. At a very young age, it made her realise, that no one is happy. It's why she keeps to herself; the world is so much quieter.
Until, that night. The Lestrange ball, she could barely think over people's inner thoughts, almost deafening. Hermione's mind was a lighthouse in a storm, she was drawn to her through the crowd. A warmth, there was something, she just couldn't place it. She just needed to see her, to meet, to talk.
She hadn't expected this, never expected their friendship to take such a turn. The kiss, though. It's the reason she's been pacing, and antsy for the last few days. It's as though she's on withdrawal from not seeing the witch.
If she had the money, the connections, the sheer bravery she would approach Lady Lestrange. Would offer to purchase Hermione, to keep her wrapped up safe inside her home. It would be similar to caging a bird, Luna knows this. Despite everything, she knows, Hermione enjoys her role, perhaps not all of it. But Hermione needs to be challenged, to be locked away to be kept safe. It would turn the witch mad.
A flash of green, illuminates the room, disappearing almost instantly. Sucking in a breath, Luna waits, heart hammering. Is Hermione home? Has she come to see Luna? She wants to run to hug the witch, hold her tight, and explain what she has found since she's been gone. Wants to ask how things went, but mostly she wants to know. Did Hermione miss Luna, while she was away?
A figure emerges, a shadow it almost engulfs the room. Her heart stutters fear it strikes her numb. She doesn't realise she's shaking until the figure is halfway into the room. Lestrange? Is this it? Has Lady Lestrange grown tired of their friendship; she wouldn't visit? Surely? Would she?
"Hey," A voice so quiet, raw.
Releasing a breath, Luna smiles as Hermione removes the cloak, folding it she places it on the table. Smiling, Luna rushes to the witch, engulfing Hermione in the biggest hug. A hug, that for once is reciprocated without a second thought.
She ignores the smell of Lestrange's perfume, there's a smell to Hermione. A smell that reminds me of home, of comfort. Holding the witch tight, Luna considers refusing to let the witch leave.
Discomfort, there's a sharp intake of breath, the slightest wobble in her step. Injured. Pulling back, Luna studies the witch in front of her. Hermione smiles, dark circles under her eyes, she feels skinnier than usual, tiredness rolling over the witch.
"Are you hurt?" Luna asks.
"Tis, but a scratch," Hermione jokes. "Do you have any water?"
"Course," Luna nods reluctantly releasing the witch. "Would you like something to eat?"
"No, just water please."
Alarm bells ring in Luna's mind as she summons Pepper, asking the Elf to bring some water. Hermione, despite her best efforts to be indifferent, always wants something to eat. Luna never misses the way the witches' eyes are always drawn to food. Luna knows though, knows the servants are fed just enough, enough to make sure they have enough energy for the day. She summons food as well, Pepper only too happy to bring extra food.
Greedily, Hermione drinks the water, pouring herself another glass, she reclines against one of the tables. Exhausted. There's sweat forming on the witch's forehead.
"Hermione," Luna whispers pulling up a chair next to the witch. "What happened?"
A pause, hazel eyes searching her glass of water for answers. It feels Luna with dread, she dares not enter the other witches' minds, not without permission.
"The normal." Hermione shrugs the answer. "Just the normal. You can look. I don't mind, just… Prepare yourself."
"No," Luna shakes her head. "Tell me, instead."
"I didn't expect you to publish that poem." Deflecting, she's deflecting.
"No? I thought it would make some impact."
"Oh, it did alright," Hermione laughs darkly.
"I… Did I get you in trouble?"
"No," Hermione shakes her head. "It wouldn't have made a difference; he would have been angry regardless."
"As in Lor…"
"Don't say his name." Hermione snaps.
"Sorry,"
"It's fine, I just don't want to hear his name anytime soon. Turns out Dolohov has been shagging his Red Kite. He decided to make an example of us all."
Luna dares not speak, she's not sure she wants to know. She does, however, notice the way Hermione keeps touching her chest. Rising from her seat, she approaches the witch. Hesitantly, she wants to check for a wound, for an injury, but she doesn't want to push their boundary.
With a slight nod, the gaze moves away, Hermione not wanting to be present as Luna gentle pulls the robe aside. Gently, she lifts the top, sucking in a breath at the angry zigzag of lines on Hermione's chest.
"What happened?"
"I won," Hermione replies darkly. "Regardless of what I did, someone still died."
"Looks like it could have been you," Luna replies tracing the still-healing wound.
"My mistress has been kind enough to heal me."
"Makes a change," Luna mutters. "I've never seen anything like this."
"Dolohov's curse." Hermione answers.
"Your throat?"
"From the crying and the smoke inhalation."
"You should eat."
"It's easier not to."
"Tough," Luna replies lowering the top. "I'll be right back."
"Luna…"
She leaves the witch, taking the stairs two at a time, she orders Pepper to present the witch downstairs with ice cream and soup. Sliding to a halt, she surveys her collection of potions. Grabbing the one she needs she almost runs back down the stairs; half afraid Hermione has run away.
"Here drink this." Luna orders sliding the potion in front of the witch.
"Luna, honestly."
"You're not leaving here until I see you eat and the potion will help with your throat. If you, don't I will imperio you."
Unconvinced, Hermione stares at the witch eyebrow raised. Luna doesn't back down; she's not letting the witch leave until she's eaten. Healing only goes so far; Hermione needs to eat some food.
"Fine." Hermione sighs sinking into the chair.
"Good, Pepper fetch me the bag I have in the pantry."
Two pops, the bag is on the table, Pepper disappearing out of sight. A grimace from Hermione as she drowns the potion and starts to tuck it into her soup. Watching Luna with suspicion. Smiling, Luna checks the bag, ensuring everything she needs is in there.
"This is for you," Luna states placing the bag in arm's reach of Hermione.
"What is it?" Hermione asks studying the bag as though it were a wild animal.
"Food."
"Food?"
"Yes, food. You're too skinny, you also have a great habit of being injured. So, you need nutrients."
"A goodie bag?"
"Exactly."
"Luna,"
"Nope. No arguments. You will take the bag; you will eat the food and you will bring the bag back to me to refill. Understood?"
"I thought you didn't want to boss me around."
"Sometimes, your too stubborn."
Silence, scowling, Hermione eats her soup as Luna supervisors with her arms crossed. She cannot help it; she needs to ensure Hermione stays in shape. The witch always looking after others, it's about time someone looked after her.
"Thank you." Hermione mumbles.
Smiling, Luna takes the seat as Hermione minimises the bag, hiding the food in her pocket. It's a risk, if Hermione is caught with the food, she will receive punishment. In Luna's case, she's willing to take the risk. She's willing to also give Lady Lestrange a piece of her mind, but that would most certainly not go down well.
"You should have been a healer."
Smiling, Luna inwardly sighs. She wanted to be a healer, always wanted to be a healer. Her father didn't think it was the best use of her talents. That was the end of the discussion.
"He called us all into the Grand Hall, Elite and servants." Hermione sighs staring at the table. "It was obvious, that something bad was going to happen. I just didn't imagine it to be a massacre. You sure you want to know?"
No. No, she can only imagine the horrors. She knows reality is going to be worse than imagination, she's not sure she can cope with that. Not yet.
"Of course." Luna lies with a smile.
It's late by the time she returns to the manor, lights beam from the billiard room, another light coming from the sitting room. It would appear Lady Lestrange is still hosting the Malfoy family. Pausing, Hermione checks the path to the house is clear, before slinking out.
She may have permission from Lady Lestrange to visit Luna on occasion, it would not do for the rest of the household to know she sneaks out. It would raise questions, ones that would be hard to answer. It would also mean her Mistress would need to reprimand her despite being the one who ordered Hermione to spy on Luna.
Her pocket feels heavy, the notes Luna passed her, little things. General things that would make it to publishing. Neither would get Hermione or Luna into trouble, just ramblings of an eccentric witch regarding weird activity in Diagon Alley. It could lead to something, it may not, but it will be for Lady Lestrange to decide.
Smiling to herself, seeing Luna was like a breath of fresh air, something she very much needed. Not yet fully healed, it took some convincing on her behalf to convince Lady Lestrange to let her leave this night. Malfoy's not particularly liking Hermione only just helps aid Hermione's cause. To the staff, they saw her disappear into her office. Working, no one would think otherwise.
To Hermione, it was a small break of freedom. To see the witch she'd been thinking about since lying in bed recovering. Just wanted to see Luna, to speak to her. She didn't mean to unload but was cooped up in her room for nearly five days not seeing anyone other than Angelina who applied the potion to her chest. It drove her slightly mad. With nothing to do, she analysed everything that happened at the Assembly. Questioning herself if she could have done something differently.
She did miss her conversations with Theo, but he had returned to his chores. He had not sought her out, nor she, him. Perhaps in future, she will go out of her way to speak to him. Deep down, she knows, that if she looks at Theo, it will forever remind her of that night at the Assembly. Perhaps that is the reason neither of them wishes to speak to each other let alone look upon each other again.
Seeing Hermione half walking, half carried into Lestrange manor was enough to stop any servants asking about the assembly. Lady Lestrange was aloof, her usual self. Theo is a solitary creature not wanting to speak to anyone. This Assembly will forever be an un-broached subject in the Lestrange manor.
A whisper of noise, so faint, as she pauses, she wonders if she imagined it. Paused, she listens, to the gentle moving of the trees, a breeze. Nothing. Perhaps she's losing it or becoming paranoid.
A gasp.
She hears it more clearly this time, changing course, she moves from the pebbled path walking over the grass. Wondering just who would be outside at this time of night. Truly hope she's not about to walk upon two servants in a compromising situation. She's not sure she has the energy to remind them of their station.
With a whisper of white, blonde hair, Hermione pauses, spotting the youngest Malfoy sitting on the stoned stairs. Hidden in the garden, huddled over, it's obvious Draco wishes to be alone. His away from the warmth of the house and away from his family. It's also obvious he is currently in pain.
Battling with herself, she should leave. The other part of her wants to stay, to help. He hates her, it's obvious in their interactions, regardless, she has the urge to assist him. Even if he sends her away.
She makes herself known, deliberately making a noise as she moves closer. He tenses, his grey eyes turning to regard her in the dark. Pale complexion he stands out in the black of the night, almost a ghost.
"Mr Malfoy," Hermione greets respectfully.
"Piss of filth." He spits, his sharp features turning to a snarl.
"I'm sorry to intrude, is there anything I can help with?" Hermione asks ignoring the comment, she's made of thicker skin. "You seem to be hurt."
"Actually, yeah." He nods pushing to his feet. "Mudblood see that tree, get a bit of rope string yourself up. Do us all a favour."
Biting back the retort, Hermione regards the young wizard. His arm, she notices, he's holding it awkwardly. Like a wounded animal cornered, he's lashing out, hoping to save what dignity he has left. There are streaks on his cheek from tears, all alone in the garden, away from his family.
"If you're in pain, I can heal you."
"Are you stupid? Or just deaf!" He snaps moving down the steps towards her, not drawing his wand. Interesting. "Get out of my face."
"You've hurt your wand arm. You're hiding out in the gardens, away from your family. Crying." Hermione states calmly, he flinches at the words. "I can heal you, should you let me. You can then return to cursing me once I have helped you."
Her words strike him dumb. Slowly, he looks down at his arm, swallowing sharply. She offers out her hand, an olive branch to help him. With a grunt, he pulls up the sleeve of his arm, hesitating before he places it into her outstretched hand.
Cold to touch, she draws her wand, turning to study the arm. Raw, a hex maybe, it's left a painful mark on his arm. She's heard of these, at the Academy. From other servants who woke there, a punishment from the Professors who work there. It doesn't take much, Hermione knows, for the Professors to inflict punishment.
She works silently, healing the arm, she won't ask why he didn't bring it to the attention of his parents. His father would reprimand him for getting into trouble, his mother would look on impassively.
Once, Hermione met one of the Professors of the Academy a cruel wizard. Very little patience for anything. The servants at the Academy were hard to come by. Recently, Elfs have taken to running the school due to the high mortality rate of the servants.
Her small training sessions with Luna have helped her progress quickly in the art of healing. The mark on Malfoy's arm slowly healed. The skin stitching back together.
Nodding, she steps back releasing his arm, pocketing her wand, and watching as he marvels at his healed arm. She needs to return; her mistress will notice if she's absent any longer. Her mistress will begin to question her motives.
"Why are you out here this late filth?" Malfoy questions.
"I'm doing my rounds," Hermione answers.
"This late?" He scoffs, not believing her. "Not sneaking out, were you?"
"You think I could?" Hermione asks curiously. "My mistress is aware of my movements."
"Is she, so if I ask my aunt why her Red Kite is in the gardens after midnight, she'd know?"
"If you feel the need to," Hermione agrees, turning slightly to the house. "By all means, we must speak to my mistress."
"What's that?"
He moves fast, grabbing the piece of paper roughly tucked into Hermione's pocket. She goes to grab it back, but he jumps out of reach drawing her wand. Staring at the paper in his hands, shaking his head at her.
"Ah, ah, filth." He hisses. "What's this?"
"A note for my mistress," Hermione answers, trying to hold back her frustration.
"You think I'm stupid?" He scoffs looking at her in disgust. "A note, hiding in the gardens this time of night. You've been leaking information, haven't you?"
"Mr Malfoy," Hermione states firmly. "Please hand it back, I have duties to attend to."
Why, why did she have to help the spoilt brat. She should have just left him to his misery. He just seemed so lost in the garden, so alone, the urge to help overrode her common sense. Her duty is her duty to look after her mistress and by extension her family. That's why she helped, wasn't it?
"I think not filth," He sneers. "You're not talking yourself out of this one."
Deep breaths, don't retaliate. Don't react.
"Mr Malfoy,"
She narrowly avoids the spell, cursing under her breath, she glares at the wizard, clearly enjoying himself. His trying to take back control. Wants to remind her of her place.
She cannot risk getting hit again, her mistress's patience will run thin. She also cannot risk anyone but her mistress seeing those papers. If someone else found outside the Lestrange manor, well it would mean humiliation. A flogging or worse.
"Come on Mudblood," Draco taunts. "I saw what you did to Skeeta, get your wand."
Shaking her head, Hermione refuses to be goaded into a fight. She cannot fight her mistress's nephew. It would mean a very painful death or worse.
"Shame she got out mind," Draco comments a hex narrowly missing Hermione's ankle. "I wanted to see her hang."
"What?" Hermione asks. "She's going to the gallows."
"Where you been mud? They released her,"
Did they release Rita? Despite listening to Lestrange's conversations it was treason. After everything, everything Skeeta has done, she was released from prison. To not be hung. They hang servants for less than the crimes she committed. The Dark Lord killed servants for less.
"Come on, I want to beat you in a duel, don't pull any Barbage crap. I heard she just stood there, not surprised, she always was pathetic."
A stillness washes over her. For a split second, it's as though the world has stopped. Nothing. She can hear nothing. Her mind, blank. Somewhere, lights are flashing. An out-of-body experience. Fire, it's engulfing her veins, spreading, burning taking control.
Silence.
Lava, courses through her veins. A scream pierces the night sky, followed by shouting. Lights, there moving in their general direction, like little orbs moving through the sky.
Reality, it's harsh it greets her with a tackle. With her wand in hand, Draco is convulsing on the muddy grass. Crying, his crying. She releases the curse, confused, stumbling back. Her body burns, the ruins it's as though they're moving, pulsing beneath her skin. Too hot, there's a ringing in her ears. Her head thumping the light is growing closer.
"DRACO!"
Detached, Hermione barely moves as Lady Malfoy appears dropping next to Draco, checking him over. A sweaty, tear-streaked face is staring at Hermione in fear. Fear. Is he scared of her? What did I do?
A harsh, unrelenting, hand lands on her shoulder, the talons digging into her flesh. Her mistress, she can smell her perfume, can feel her presence. Mind foggy, she feels as though she's swimming through a haze. Struggling to comprehend what's happening, to take back control.
Panting, Draco is being helped to his knees by a furious Lady Malfoy. Lord Malfoy skulks nearby, watching.
"The fuck happened?" Bellatrix demands, forcing Hermione to turn around.
She doesn't know, she can barely recall her name right now. Her body thrumming, and her mind is struggling to gain control. She can see the hand on her shoulder, the nails digging in but there's no pain. Nothing. She's empty.
"She needs putting down Bellatrix!" Lady Malfoy hisses, brushing her son down. "She's out of control."
"Nephew, what happened?"
"Bellatrix, it doesn't matter!" Narcissa is shouting.
They're both shouting, Lady Malfoy, and Lady Lestrange, arguing. Fear. He fears Hermione.
"It's my fault."
The words cause the sisters to stop arguing, turn and wait for an explanation. This is it, no gallows, just that crooked wand. It'll be the end of her, maybe it will stop the ringing in her head.
"I was taking a walk," A pause, catching breath. "I think I caught Granger off guard. Spooked her."
Confused, she's most definitely confused now. Staring at the wizard who is refusing to meet her gaze. Why is he lying? Both he and Hermione are trained by Bellatrix no one can read their minds. No one except Luna anyway. No one here is going to know he's lying, but the action confuses Hermione.
"Draco," Lady Malfoy whispers.
"I'm sorry, I… I came for a smoke. Granger, I assume was doing her checks saw her walking by, I hid behind the shrub, I thought it is funny to scare her."
They all turn to look at her, waiting for a response. She remains blank, what is there to say? She's just as confused as everyone.
"Well," Lady Malfoy comments.
She trails off, what is there to say? It's embarrassing, Lady Malfoy's outburst, Draco's confession. Not as embarrassing as the real reason he was attacked, nevertheless still embarrassing.
"Granger has been on edge since the attack," Lady Lestrange states. "Perhaps it's not wise to jump people in the dark."
"Apologies Aunt," Draco replies flushed. "Thought it was funny at the time."
"Yes, well." A sigh, red lips poised. "I suppose we should call it a night, Cissy."
"Yes, I think that would be wise."
Brushing mud from his trousers, Draco refuses to meet anyone's gaze. Glancing at Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy moves past her son. They will apparate home, the mood darkened.
"Mr Malfoy. Apologies, I don't know what came over me…" She trails off, not sure what else to say.
"My bad, yeah," Malfoy comments meeting her gaze. "Oh, you dropped this."
Handing back the piece of paper, Hermione accepts it, slipping it into her pocket. She watches as the Malfoy family move away, catching Lady Malfoy reprimanding her son for smoking.
"I need a drink." Bellatrix comments. "Honestly, Granger, I might as well get rid of the dogs at this rate."