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 Twenty
Like most things, they never mention it again, the fight, the talk. They continue as though nothing has changed. The servants know better than to question, if she tries, Hermione can imagine it never happened. Sometimes though, she wakes from nightmares, from her death, gasping. Panting, terrified, to find the door adjoining Lady Lestrange's room open. To find the dark witch stood there, watching. The first time, Hermione had spoken to the witch to only have her leave. Since she doesn't question, if her mistress is there, she just rolls back over. Hoping the next dreams will be more pleasant.
Sometimes she wishes, wishes she could crawl back into bed with her mistress. Terrified to be alone, wanting to feel the softness of the bed, wanting to feel the warmth of her mistress. She never asks, her mistress never requests.
She had managed to get a message to Luna, an excuse not to see the witch, but now she knows Lady Lestrange is aware. Aware of her movements, she's trying to not make it too obvious. The knowing smile on Lestrange's face tells her everything she knows. She's chickening out, too scared to confront Luna, too scared to question their friendship.
"I'll be back," Lestrange's voice breaks Hermione from her thoughts.
Standing to the side of the table, Hermione watches as the witch moves from the table, lunch with Lady Malfoy and mister Malfoy. The hand gesture tells Hermione not to follow, to remain where she is.
The server appears removing the plates from the table, Lady Malfoy tapping her fingers restless. Draco, staring off into the distance, bored. Hermione had tuned out of the conversation long ago.
Shroudfalls, a beautiful town, with some of the most expensive shops, only the Elite travel here. Walking through the cobbled streets always fills Hermione with a small amount of glee, she enjoys travelling to the town. Her mistress hates shopping, but her birthday is nearly upon them and she needs a new dress.
Shroudfalls is the only place to hold such a shop, they will also be after some more items for potions, maybe the book shop if her mistress is in the mood. Once they have finished this brunch with the Malfoys, they will start shopping.
"Granger," Lady Malfoy addresses her. "My sister is not herself, she's pissy, is there something I should know?"
Well, that is a loaded question, perhaps it has something to do with their fight the other night. The black eye is no longer prominent, it remains though. Perhaps it has something to do with one of Lestrange's sisters orchestrating an assassination attempt.
"How do you tell?" Draco drawls, flicking a crumb from the table.
"Draco, remember your place she's your aunt." Lady Malfoy reprimands.
"Well, your asking her Red Kite, isn't that against her place?" Draco questions. "She's, in a mood, and I have several things to be doing can we go?"
"No, I will go speak to her. Wait here, you need a new robe."
Rising from the table, Lady Malfoy heads in the same direction as Lady Lestrange. Awkward, Hermione shifts, this is the first time she has seen Draco since that incident since she cursed him.
"Mister Draco," Hermione states addressing the youngest Malfoy. "Regarding that night, again, I am very sorry."
"Yeah," Draco replies, she swallows at the sneer, perhaps he is not so forgiving. It slips away though, a tired look crossing his face. "So am I. I was being a prick."
"I shouldn't have lost my temper."
"Remind me again, not to piss you off." Draco chuckles, turning his attention to Hermione.
"Why, why didn't you tell the truth?"
"What? That I got my arse handed to me by a Red Kite? That she crucio'd me because I was being a prick, the other option was less embarrassing. Besides, it wasn't your fault."
"I… Cruico'd you?"
"You don't remember?"
"No, I… I couldn't have, I don't know the spell."
"I can confirm, you know the spell. Also, quite talented with it as well." He notices her confusion. "You honestly don't remember? To be honest Granger, at that moment, I didn't say anything, because you scared the shit out of me."
"I," What can she say? She doesn't remember.
She can remember Draco taunting her, but that's all, the next minute, he's on the ground crying. She had lost control, like the other night with lady Lestrange.
"It was strange, it was like it was you, but it wasn't." Draco comments, with a shrug. "Doesn't matter though."
It does matter though, Hermione wants to understand because she's scared of losing control. Scared of hurting someone, granted Draco may have needed a lesson, but she never wants to hurt.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asks. "Sorry, it's not my place."
"You know, you're the first person to ask me that in a long time." Draco smiles, he looks pale, paler than usual. "I know servants talk, you know about the academy, don't you?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"I'm graduating this year."
Hermione tries to control her reaction, she knows exactly what graduation entails. She does not envy Draco, he seems so small sitting on the chair.
"I'm sorry," Hermione says, softly. "Do you know who yet?"
"One of the others," He shrugs. "We think it might be Greenhouse."
"Not a servant?"
"No, Greenhouse, his family has fallen from favour. His mother ran away with a muggle."
Poor boy. He won't know the pain his in for, none of them will know what will hit them. The servants will watch, impassive and immune to the violence, which none of the servants from the academy particularly liked. To survive in an environment like the academy, well it takes either a thick skin or a lack of emotions.
The clicking of heels, the muttering between sisters as they return to the table. One last look, at each other, Draco and Hermione fall silent, waiting for the sisters to take their seats.
"I'm just checking in on you," Lady Malfoy sighs in frustration. "It's called caring."
"It's called meddling." Lestrange snaps, frowning at Draco. "What's wrong with you? Looks like someone shoved a wand up your arse."
"Nothing, Aunt Bella," Draco replies coolly.
"Well as riveting as this breakfast was, I have shopping to do."
"Draco needs new robes, perhaps we could shop with you?" Lady Malfoy suggests.
"Read the room, Cissy, Draco looks as though he'd rather stab himself in the eye with a fork."
"Must you be so crass?"
"Yes, must you be so shocked by my attitude all the time?" Lestrange counters.
An impasse was reached between the sisters, Lady Malfoy knowing better than to continue. Any further argument will be lost, Lestrange is not in the mood, if anything it will escalate further.
"Well, we will leave you to your shopping," Lady Malfoy announces, rising from her seat. "Come along Draco."
Rolling her eyes, Lestrange watches the Malfoy walk away, a small shake of her head. Grabbing a biscuit, she rises from the table, leading the way in the small restaurant.
Cobbled street, the smell of fresh bread, the smell of lavender, she looks at the Tudor buildings. The vines connect to the houses, creating an archway, lavender above. It's beautiful, so beautiful to see.
In the distance the fields growing sunflowers, it's picture perfect. She loves shopping here and watching the world pass by. In another world, she would love to own a shop here, a little book shop, a flat above. It'd be enough, just for her, it would be hers and that's enough.
"What's with the smile?" Lestrange asks as they head in the direction of the tailors.
"Roles reversed," Hermione answers with a shrug, earning a curious look.
"I'm intrigued."
"A bookshop, here," Hermione smiles looking around. "That's what I'd love."
"Not minister?" Lestrange teases with a backward glance.
"Bit stressful," Hermione jokes. "Besides, books trump politics any day."
"You'd make a bad minister anyway," frowning, Hermione throws her Mistress a dirty look. "What, you'd be too easy to bribe, all somebody would have to do is bribe you with books."
"That's true."
"Where am I in this make belief? Am I your servant?"
"No, you're my best customer."
With a scoff and humour, Lestrange resumes ignoring Hermione as they walk. Pausing outside of the tailors, Hermione remembers she needs to gather the truffles from the bakery, a present for Lady Malfoy for hosting the party.
"My Lady, do you need me?" Hermione asks.
A raised eyebrow, Lestrange turned to regard her.
"You have something better to be doing?" Lestrange taunts.
"No, I need to collect the truffles for Lady Malfoy, the gift from you. If it's okay with you, I will collect them while you are busy?"
"Hmm, fine," Lestrange comments, reaching into her pocket, she withdraws gold. "Here. I won't be long here, meet me at the book shop when you are done."
"Of course," Hermione carefully, places the gold away, much to the amusement of Lestrange.
The door dings as Lestrange heads inside, retrieving the dress for the party. Hermione should remain, but it would be a waste of her mistress's time to go to the bakery as well. Besides, it is fitting, to ensure the dress is perfect, she doesn't need Hermione to stand there waiting for her.
Slipping through the stone archway, Hermione bows at a passing Elite, respectfully stepping aside to let them pass. A nod from a servant, acknowledgement, as resumes her walk. Stepping down sandstone steps, Hermione pauses to observe the street. It's so beautiful.
Sighing, she notices an empty shop, could imagine having a little book store just there. Maybe Luna could be there, out the back printing her magazines, would Luna like that? What does it matter? Shaking her head, she discards the thoughts, such thoughts are going to lead her into trouble.
She tries not to drool at the sight of the cakes in the window, she longs to buy one. She could with the money Lestrange gave her, eat it on the way back to the witch. She would know though, somehow Bellatrix would know.
Stepping into the bakery, Hermione ignores temptation, as she moves to the counter, nodding at the man behind the counter. A flustered Madam Henrietta behind the counter, spots Hermione, brushing flour from her hands on her apron. She approaches the counter, the box of truffles for Lady Lestrange placed on the counter by her assistant as he passes by with a broom.
"Red Kite Granger," Madam Henrietta greets, eyes darting to the man sweeping. "Wasn't expecting you so soon."
"I did not mean to inconvenience you," Hermione replies, glancing at the box, smiling at the truffles neatly inside.
"No, it's fine, I just… I don't feel as though, these were my best." Madam Henrietta comments staring down at the truffles.
"They look brilliant as usual," Hermione reassures.
"Your too kind, but look, that one there's a smudge, this one the icing you see?"
Hermione doesn't see, the truffles look amazing as usual. Perfectly crafted, balls of chocolate topped with the smallest amount of icing. A shiver runs down her spine, Henrietta shifting, not her usual chatty self.
"Is everything okay?" Hermione asks.
"Yes, yes, but I think I should do them again. I would not want to displease Lady Lestrange."
"They are needed for tomorrow,"
"I can have them done for then, it's not an issue…"
"Hen," A tall wizard calls, walking over to the witch. He places a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "Perhaps you go have a lie-down."
"The truffles," Henrietta protests.
"It's okay, I will serve Lady Lestrange's, Red Kite. Go, boy, help Madam Henrietta lie down, will you."
The man sweeping stops, placing the brush aside, he guides Madam Henrietta away. Frowning, Hermione follows the witch as she disappears, turning back to the wizard who is sighing, rubbing his beard.
"Apologies," He murmurs. "She's not been well. Her nerves, these days she's been struggling. Do forgive her."
"Of course, I hope she's okay."
"You are too kind," He replies, delicately lacing a bow around the box of truffles. "Her father recently passed; she has not been the same since. I'm her brother, I thought I'd help out for time being. Gregory,"
"Pleasure." Hermione nods at the wizard, he looks nothing like Henrietta but she keeps the thought to herself.
"Here, I can assure you they are perfect," he places the truffles in Hermione's hand. "Just recently, nothing seems perfect, you see. Death, it plays tricks on us all I suppose."
Smiling, Hermione hands over the gold, shrinking the truffles, she carefully places them in her satchel. Lady Malfoy will be pleased.
"Please pass my condolences to Madam Henrietta," Hermione replies.
"You are too kind."
Nodding, Hermione, leaves the shop, stepping out onto the street. Frowning, she glances back at the bakery. Madam Henrietta has never mentioned a brother, then again, Hermione doesn't know the witch.
Heading away, Hermione tries to dislodge the feeling that something is wrong. The street is quieter than usual, as she heads back the way she came. Moving through the archway, she notices the small crowds of the Elite, shopping.
The servants milling along, the world seems so normal, but why is the hair standing on the back of her neck. Sighing, she heads to the book shop, she will wait for Lady Lestrange there. There will be no point trying to find the witch, Lady Lestrange is easily distracted when shopping she could be anywhere.
"Ah," The shopkeeper greets as she steps into the book shop. "Miss Granger, no Lady Lestrange?"
"My mistress will be here shortly," Hermione replies to the older wizard.
"Brilliant," Mr Grey smiles. "I have had something arrived, that will interest Lady Lestrange, follow me."
Trailing after the wizard, he leads her to the middle of the book shop, a large tome on display. Transfiguration – The Three Elements. Sucking in a breath, Hermione studies the book not daring to touch it. She had heard of this tome, highly recommended, extremely hard to get hold of.
Banned in some countries, her hands itch to touch the pages. It's old, most of the books were destroyed a few hundred years ago. The teachings were thought too dangerous. Here it is, sitting in this little book shop, guarded by wards, powerful enough to burn her hand should she touch.
"It's beautiful," Hermione whispers admiring the book.
"I knew you'd appreciate it, do you think Lady Lestrange would be interested?"
"Very much," Hermione agrees, flinching at the price tag.
The tome a hefty sum, it would make most shrink away, Lady Lestrange can afford it. A present to herself for her birthday, if Hermione had the money she would buy it for the witch. Lestrange would devour the book in one sitting.
"Do you wish to hold it?" Greys whispers mischievously.
"Are you sure?" Hermione replies.
"Yes," He grins. "Please, Miss Granger, I enjoy our conversations immensely when you visit. Although I probably shouldn't say so should I?"
"No, probably not."
"Did you read the latest book; the one Lady Lestrange brought?"
"Yes, it was very insightful, although I had a feeling the author wasn't being truthful."
"My thoughts exactly. Did you notice how they change from pretence?"
"On the fourth chapter."
"Very strange,"
"For some of the story I felt as though it was a witch writing," Hermione comments watching as the wizard removes the charms guarding the tome. "But it was written by Gilderoy Lockhart?"
"I'm glad I'm not the only one. Felt as though it was written by another. My other patrons, well the swoon over Mr Lockhart, there's no chance of arguing with them. Here."
Carrying the tome, he places it gently on the table in the middle of the shop. Allowing Hermione to take a look, she runs her finger along the spine of the book. With the leather-bound exterior, she itches to open the tome. She won't be able to read it, the magic to advance for her, too advanced for her station, but a glimpse. A glimpse can be forgiven.
"I'll be your lookout," Grey winks with a smirk.
"Thank you." Hermione smiles.
"Did your mistress enjoy Lockhart's book?"
"No," Hermione chuckles, remembering the witch throwing the book at the window. "She read a few chapters, before announcing it was rubbish."
"Rubbish?"
"Well she may have used a different word, but, she did not enjoy it."
"I thought it be the case, I did advise her so. She insisted on reading it though."
"She likes to try to stay in touch with the latest trends, even if it does hurt her intelligence. Her words, not mine."
"Brilliant."
Smiling, Hermione watches as Greys returns to the front of the shop, returning to his ledger. Gingerly, Hermione opens the first page, a shiver running through her. If her mistress catches her reading this, oh she'll be in even more trouble. She's not sure it's possible, if anyone catches her reading this, she will be in a lot of trouble.
The urge to read is overpowering, she ignores the warning, opening to the first page. The introduction, the feeling she gets every time she opens a new book. The surge of excitement, and the need for knowledge it's insatiable.
Dear reader,
Disregard all your training on Transfiguration, it is not needed here. Five elements are all that are needed for you to comprehend the enormity of this magic. An understanding of runes will serve you well together I will teach you, how to wield this magic.
Together we will journey into the teachings, into the understanding of the basics of transfiguration. After reading this book you will become a master of the art, it is an art. A living breathing art, that will transform how you see this world around us.
If you do not master transfiguration after reading this, that is not my concern nor my failings as a teacher. The fault lies with you. You are simpler not strong nor smart enough to master the art. Please pass the book along to someone who will make use of it. For those wishing to play with the magic, I have no time for you.
Some wish to burn my books. To burn these teachings from history. Remember, fear serves only one purpose. Fear stems from failure, fear is everything that prevents us from moving forward. Fear stems from cowardice. I will not suffer cowards here.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione smiles at the small passage, wanting to read further. Carefully, she flicks through the pages, studying the diagrams, and skim the information. She craves to read it all, to devour it.
Lost in thought, her finger traces a diagram, the position of the wand, how to hold it. The firm instructions, the author strict in explanation but informative. Her mistress will love this book.
Clang. Pausing, she looks up from the book, wondering if her mistress has finally arrived. Frowning, she notices the darkness, is it late? Has her mistress, left without her, forgotten about Hermione.
The clock declares a different time, she's only been here twenty minutes, no longer. Moving from the book, she steps closer to the window, peering out into the street. The sun is hidden behind a cloud. A solar eclipse? Tension rushes through her body.
"Get away from the window!" Grey's shouting.
Her ears pop, the force of the blast, it hurtles her backwards, crashing through a bookcase, pelted with books. The air was knocked from her lungs, and glass it rains down on her. Flinching covers her face as the ground rumbles, a spell smashing against the wall.
"Stay down," Greys shouts moving through the rubble.
There's no window, no wall left, destroyed, the part of the shop tilting, dangerously close to collapse. Coughing, Hermione, pushes to her knees, breathless, disorientated. Are they under attack?
"Stay down." He orders moving through the shop. "Towards the back of the shop, there's a door, we need to leave."
"My mistress," Hermione protests.
"Will be fine," He reassures, scanning the floor. "Where is it?"
Looking amongst the fallen books, Hermione realises the table had been caught in the blast. Searching, she pushes books aside, looking for the tome, catching her nail on the wood floor.
"Got it," Greys announces, standing with the book in his hand.
Sighing, Hermione looks over to the back door, the shop around them creaking, a table falling through the open ceiling, collapsing against the counter.
"Let's go."
Flinching, Hermione covers her face, the heat of a spell, encases the room. Something wet splashes across her face. A thud. Blinking, the air is burning, and the heat of the spell it lingers.
Andrenaline is pumping through her body, her head is thumping, and sweat drips down her back. Wand sitting useless in her hand, she cannot help but stare. The hands still holding the tomb. Blood, it's everywhere, Greys is everywhere, blown to a million pieces, his hands the only thing remaining.
Gagging, Hermione pukes, coughing up her breakfast, scrambling backwards from the remains of Greys. Shaking, she hides behind the fallen bookcase as voices grow closer, shouting. Screaming, spells are flashing in the distance, the building is creaking around her, not stable. She needs to move.
Wand gripped; she's not built for this. Move, we need to move. Fear renders her numb, useless, in the base of the book shop. A wall collapses, the ceiling bucking above, the dripping of water. Glancing to the side, she debates with herself.
Forgive me. Crawling across the floor, she grabs the book, pulling the hands free of the tome. Minimalizing it, she shoves it in her pouch, guilty of stealing. Gagging, she moves from the sight, she crawls away, clambering over books, and she moves towards the back of the shop.
The door jammed, and she hits it on her shoulder, too afraid to use her wand, not wanting to destabilise the building anymore. Creaking, cracking, the walls starting to crumble, the roof collapsing in, the ceiling bowing under the pressure.
Hitting the door once more, it shifts, enough room for her to scramble out, into the back room. Tripping on fallen items, the roaring of the house as it starts to fall. The stairs collapsing next to her, she runs for the back door.
It swings open, realising her into the street, falling tumbling she rolls as debris rains down. The building collapses, and she covers her head. Squinting, she checks herself for injury, relieved, that she had made enough distance not to be caught in the rubble.
The air was thick with dust, with smoke. Shouting spells flash in the distance, and a shop on fire, it's pumping black fumes upwards. People are running in all directions, scrambling to the side, Hermione presses against another shop. Narrowly avoiding being trampled.
Chest heaving, she chokes on the smoke, unsure what to do. She has no idea where lady Lestrange is, the smoke is too thick, and she won't be able to make it to the floo network. Could she leave, without Lady Lestrange?
Flinching, Hermione moves, a spell narrowly missing her, two wizards duelling, fighting in the street. Scurrying, Hermione heads for cover, away from the fight, falling over a dead servant on the street.
She doesn't recognise the crest, only the fear on their face as she pushes to her feet, rushing in the opposite direction of the duel. The ground shakes, an explosion, a spell ripping through a building, more duelling on the streets.
She needs to get out of the street, feeling along the wall, her fingers wrap around a handle, a jiggle, the door swings open. Falling inside, she shuts the door behind her, gasping, catching her breath.
Swallowing, she pushes to her feet, wand at the ready, she moves through the back of the shop, towards the front. Nudging the door open she peeks inside – alone. Sighing, she steps into the salesroom.
The jingling of the door makes her freeze, the little bell happily announcing visitors, three wizards stumbling into the shop. Dark robes, masks covering their faces, laughing between themselves.
Slowly, Hermione moves backwards, they haven't spotted her yet, so she can head out the exit. Away from here, be safe. Squeak. Closing her eyes, her foot slowly lifts from the teddy, the long-drawn-out squeak so loud in the enclosed space.
Three wizards turn to look at her, she doesn't need to see their faces to know they're smiling at her. The tallest one stepped forward, wand in hand. Maybe they won't recognise her, maybe they're on her side.
"Well, well, it's our lucky day lads, we've found Lestrange's, Red Kite." He announces removing his mask, smiling, his wand rolling between dirt-ridden fingers. "Hello, love."
Crap.