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-Two
Running a hand through her hair, Hermione grumbles under her breath she wasn't meant to be distracted. She was meant to talk to Luna, not end up having sex against a table. A pop makes her pause, retracting her steps, she moves off the beaten path. A deflated Angelina sitting in the shadow of the manor, out of view. A bottle of liquor in her hand.
"Hey," Angelina greets.
"Hey," Hermione answers moving to join the witch.
Taking a seat, Hermione slumps against the wall of the manor, wondering why Luna avoided the question. Why did distract Hermione instead of just opening up? Perhaps, there is nothing to discuss, perhaps she is letting paranoia feed her imagination?
"Here," Angelina murmurs, passing the bottle of liquor to Hermione. "Looks like you could do with this."
"Thanks," Hermione smiles accepting the bottle.
It burns her throat and makes her wince, studying the white bottle, she wonders what alcohol it is. She has never tasted anything like it before, but she can get used to the taste. It looks like water, but most definitely isn't.
"What is this?" Hermione gasps after the second swig.
"Vodka," Angelina replies. "It's a muggle drink, I quite like it."
Despite her words, Angelina has only taken a few sips from the bottle. Offering it back, Angelina refuses a small shake of the head.
"You, okay?" Hermione asks.
"Yeah, suppose." Angelina shrugs. "It's hard though, isn't it?"
"Which bit?"
"Everything, right now, everything feels difficult."
It's true, everything at the moment seems difficult. Nothing is straight forward everything is becoming messy.
"I told him, I love him," Angelina whispers.
Swallowing, Hermione replaces the cap on the bottle, she's going to need to remain sober for this. Glancing, Hermione studies the witch besides her, staring off into the distance, lost in thought.
"What, did he say?" Hermione asks.
"I don't know," Angelina shrugs. "I panicked, made some lame excuse and ran away. Such a coward. I don't know what I'm thinking. I'm just a servant, he's a pureblood, it's not possible. Nothing is possible."
"A servant is your position, it's not who you are," Hermione states, thinking back to Professor McGonagall's words. "We cannot help the position we are born into, but it doesn't make you any less of a witch."
"Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?"
"I've done some soul searching," Hermione answers with a wry smile.
"What happens if he doesn't love me?"
"You don't owe anyone, anything. You just need to be honest with yourself, everything else is not for us to decide. But you need to give him a chance to say, even if it's not what you want to hear. It'll drive you mad if you don't find out."
"He wants to run away together." The words are laced with hope.
"That doesn't sound like someone who doesn't love you," Hermione replies.
"No?"
"No."
"It's not possible though, is it?"
"You tell me?"
"What of the wards, our oath."
"The oath ensures silence," Hermione answers. "As far as I know, they cannot stop you from leaving. The crest, however, I cannot speak for."
"Shouldn't you be telling me not to run away?"
"Things are strange," Hermione answers vaguely.
Nodding, Angelina reclines back against the wall, both studying the stars above. What would it be like, looking at the stars without the ball and chain around her foot? Without being tied to Lestrange manor? Without being tied to Lady Lestrange?
She should tell Angelina to stay, not be foolish, but she doesn't feel this way. Not now. All she wants to do is a runaway. Whether that is with Luna or just alone she's not sure. She just wants answers, just wants Luna to open up to her.
"You, okay?" Angelina asks.
"Sort of," Hermione answers. "I tell them everything. Well, as much as I can. Personal things, they know so much, but sometimes I feel as though it's one-sided. You know?"
"I know the feeling, they don't talk much. He talks about his family, and his time at Hogwarts, but not much else. I suppose it should be enough, but it just feels as though he's holding back."
"I don't know if it's just the way they are, but I feel as though they're not telling me something. We're meant to be friends, but now, the lines are blurring. I know they care, but…"
"Sometimes that's not enough."
"Yeah."
It's nice to know Luna is there for her, to know the witch will always be there. Hermione wants to be there for Luna, wants to be Luna's confidence, and wants it to be equal. For Luna to know that she can come to Hermione.
"Sometimes, I feel they think I need shielding," Hermione admits.
"They know, who your mistress is, right?"
"Yes, too well," Hermione scoffs, remembering the fight. "It's sweet, that they care. I just fear they have me on a pedestal. That they're seeing a me that isn't real, as though… I don't know, maybe I'm just overthinking it."
"Maybe," Angelina shrugs. "Always trust instinct, it's kept us alive this long."
It's true, her instincts are incredibly tuned, they have to be, it's the only thing that has kept her alive for so long. Checking the time, she has an hour before her mistress will need attention. It will give her time to study the transfiguration book. It will help her take her mind off Luna.
~Paint It, Black~
Twisting, her body she can barely breathe. It's as though she's being ripped in two, torn apart, shrinking, growing tearing at the seams. It's excruciatingly painful. Her mind tearing, she wants to cover her ears. The world is so extremely loud, that her senses are overloading, she can hear every breath, every beat of the heart.
It stops.
The pain stops. What is that? She can smell something, it smells delicious, food, it's something the servants have left overnight to cook. Sniffing, she tilts her head smelling the air. Creak. She jumps a mile, turning, growling… wait growling? The noise so loud, it startled her, the room is dark bar a few candles.
Her tail is tall, puffed, a warning. Tail? It's confusing, and disorientating, as she tries to understand, to catch up. Her body is different, her paws she hears her claws catching on the floor. Paws? Claws? It's confusing, the thoughts slowly catching up, her body adjusting, her mind trying to configure.
"Well, aren't you cute?" The whisper sounds incredibly loud in the small space.
She winces, her ears flinching, shrinking under the shushing sound, watching as Lady Lestrange slowly sinks to her knees. Coaxing Hermione away from the corner, tentatively, she moves. Each step loud, she can hear the thumping of a heart, unsure if it's hers or that of her mistress.
"Take a look," Lestrange comments slowly turning the mirror.
A fox. She's a red fox. The red coat, black feet and black-tipped ears. She swishes her tail in the mirror, the fluffy white tail catching in the light. Cute, she looks cute. Flinching as finger scratches behind her ear. Oh, that's nice. She leans into the touch, the action sending causing her back foot to kick.
"Now the fun bit, changing back."
She pouts internally, not ready to change back, she darts out of Lestrange's hand. Fast, she's fast, her paws scrambling on the ground, she charges around the room. Zooming, under the chairs, sliding to a halt, panting, Lestrange unamused. This is fun.
Snoring, Lestrange is snoring, asleep in her chair, Hermione stalking around the room, sniffing each smell. She's tried changing back, but it's not as easy as it seems. She's also jumped up and down on her mistress mattress, so bouncy.
Yawning, she stretches, wondering if she could sneak out of the room to hunt in the kitchen for food. No one would know it was her. She could easily get away with stealing food. Stretching, she sits on the mattress, studying her sleeping mistress, too tired to stay away. Birds are chirping, tiredness is clawing she shuffles down resting her head in her paws. Focusing on the change, focusing on becoming human again.
"I'm usually thrilled," Lestrange's voice stirs her from her slumber. "To have a naked witch in my bed, however, you seem to have malted."
Flushing, Hermione grabs the nearest item, using the pillow to protect what little modesty she has left at this point. She fell asleep on her mistress bed. So embarrassing. There's also fur, left on her mistress's mattress, she will have to change the bedding today.
Eyebrow raised, Lestrange watches in amusement as Hermione slivers off the bed trying to cover her naked body as well as trying to climb off the bed elegantly.
"Sorry," Hermione mutters.
"Now, how could I punish something so cute," Lestrange smirks. "Although, next time, paws off my mattress, understand?"
"Of course, won't happen again." Hermione nods.
"Hmm, we'll see."
~Paint It, Black~
Gasping, her body is blazing, exertion, falling to her knees. Eyes watering, she can barely see, the chemicals in the air burning her iris. Stumbling, her knees scrape across the ground, shouting.
Heavy, she feels so heavy, hands are holding her up, moving her. Her feet tripping, and people are running screaming in all directions. The world feels as though it's on fire. Crunch, she flinches. A large chunk of brickwork narrowly missing her, makes them stumble backwards.
No, she cannot do this again. She cannot face her death again. Turning, she runs, her feet propelling her away from the smoke, running blindly. Away from the destruction away from her death.
She falls, dropping to her knees. There's nothing left. Clutching her chest, it's searing, the pain pounding, she can barely breathe. Clutching at her own throat, willing the air. Please God, please.
No time to run. She moves, covering the other with her body. Crunch, something is breaking. Pain sends shockwaves through her. Stopping. Nothing there's nothing. No pain, no nothing. Her heart is no longer bleeding, or crying she's fallen numb. Only darkness, blissful darkness, takes everything away, she welcomes it with open arms.
A groan, she stirs from her sleep, tiredness, the second time this night she has had this vision. She just wants it to end, rolling she rubs her eyes, her room in darkness. The morning was too far away. Her body is tired, her mind thrumming with noise.
Screwing up her eyes, she wills away the tears, the dream is driving her crazy. Slowly, she sits up, pulling the blanket around her. She jumps a mile. A figure in her doorway. Lestrange, she can barely make out the witch, but she can feel the pulse of her magic.
When is this going to end?
"Lie back down." Lestrange orders.
"My lady?" Hermione mutters, tired so tired.
"We're going to try something."
She doesn't have the strength to argue, flinching at the sound of a chair grating on the floor. She had tried to run, tried to escape the dream. They're growing, the dreams the intensity, they're growing. The thumping in her head increases each day. She flinches as a cold hand presses against her forehead.
"Shh, stop thinking."
It's strange, sleep encompasses her straight away, a shadow grabbing her and pulling her backwards. Down into the pit of endless dreams.
Gasping, her body is blazing, exertion, falling to her knees. Eyes watering, she can barely see, the chemicals in the air burning her iris. Stumbling, her knees scrape across the ground, shouting.
She's back again in the dream, dread fills her stomach. She doesn't want to be here, doesn't need to see this again.
"Focus," The voice startles her.
Turning, Lestrange is standing beside her, in her nightgown, so out of place in the destruction of the town. Amongst the smoke, Lestrange is observing and studying the surroundings.
"Focus, Granger. Tell me, what do you see? What's happening?"
"People are screaming," Hermione answers trying to ignore her pounding heart.
Blood, there's blood on her hands, Falling collapsing onto her back, the blood is pulsing between her fingers. Her head is buzzing, fuzzy she feels woozy. Coughing, liquid drips from her lips, and she rolls coughing up the blood, spitting it on hard ground.
"I'm dying," Hermione responds.
"Why? What injury do you have?"
She pulls her top aside. Impaled, there's rebar between her ribs, protruding. Hands grab at her shoulders tugging pulling. Someone is moving her along, pulling her to her feet.
"Who's carrying you?" Lestrange asks, forcing Hermione to focus away from the blood.
"I'm dying."
"Granger, who are you with?"
She falls, dropping to her knees, bringing the other down with her. She pushes against the hands, she's done. There's nothing left. Clutching her chest, it's searing, the pain pounding, she can barely breathe. Clutching at her own throat, willing the air. Please God, please.
"Hermione," The words startle her, Lestrange kneeling next to her. "I can only see what you see. Who, are you with?"
Swallowing, she ignores the pain, it's not real. It's what she's telling herself, but it feels so very real. Focusing, through blurred vision.
The ground is shaking, the sky is roaring. She collapses, barely able to catch her breath, it's like fire in her chest. Hands, someone is yelling, trying to move her. Darkness, falls over them, the hand stopping.
"Focus," Lestrange orders.
Squinting, Hermione tries to focus, the pain is playing with her mind, and she's struggling to understand. The noise around them, the ground shaking. Black. The hands on her shoulder, she knows those hands. The face swarming into view, injured they're injured too. They're shouting, ordering her to move, willing her to move. A shadow is engulfing them, a terrifying loud noise, it's deafening. Hermione sees the remains of a church, toppling, falling towards them.
No time to run. With her remaining strength, she shoves, pushing the other out of harm's way. Safe.
"Granger, wake up. Wake up now."
"I'm trying." She murmurs.
She cannot. She's trapped. The dream is holding her captive.
Crunch, something is breaking. Pain sends shockwaves through her. Stopping. Nothing there's nothing. No pain, no nothing. Her heart is no longer bleeding, or crying she's fallen numb. Only darkness, blissful darkness, takes everything away, she welcomes it with open arms.
The pain startles her awake, clutching her chest, wiping blindly at her body checking for any damage. She's alive, just a dream. It's just a dream. Tears, there are tears she rubs at them blindly. So tired, she just wants to sleep undisturbed, it's becoming too much.
She flinches as her hand rests on her neck, a thumb rubbing. She had forgotten about her mistress. Pensive, lost in thought, Lestrange is staring off into the distance, thoughtful.
It allows Hermione to run through the dream, to remember everything she had seen. What happened? Why was she impaled, how did she become impaled? The face swims into view, distraught, bloody, and injured. She knows that face anywhere. In this dream though, she managed to save the other.
Dark eyes, they meet hazel, cold understanding between two witches.
"It's you," Hermione mutters remembering the face in her dream. "You're there, the day I die."
Lestrange is the one trying to save her, trying to pull her to safety. Rising from her seat, Bellatrix pauses, pulling a potion from her pocket, she places it in Hermione's hand. Retreating to her room, Bellatrix closes the door behind her. I die, saving Bellatrix?
~Paint It, Black~
"Run away with me."
Her hands paused, mid-motion shoelaces hanging limply between her fingers. Frozen, she swallows, turning her attention to the blond in the room. Anxious, Luna is pacing, back and forth. Her bare feet patting against the floor.
"What?" Hermione asks, confused.
"Run away with me," Luna repeats, coming to stop in front of Hermione.
"What?" The words have struck her dumb.
"I know, I know it's risky, but please. Listen. We can head to France, from France, Austria. I know people there. It's neutural territory."
"What?"
"Look."
Rushing to the other side of the room, Luna pulls out a map and places it down on the desk. She unravels it across the desk, coaxing Hermione closer. Their journey set out with red pen, the ferry, the train, the trek they would have to take through woods. Every inch of terrain was mapped out. Notes on times of transport. Fake names, fake identification.
"Look, we get the ferry, head to France. From there, we catch the train, and we disembark here, just past the line. It's not a station, we would have to cushion our jump, but there's a small town. Where we can catch a bus to the next town over. From there, we head through this forest, get this train and we're in Austria. We'll stay there for a month, maybe, then move on to the next. Switzerland. There we will take refuge."
"How… How long have you been planning this?" Hermione breathes, studying the map.
"A while. I've researched every step, and I know a few people as well, they've helped. We can do it."
"Luna… what about your family?"
"My father would understand," Luna nods. "What do you say?"
"I don't know," Hermione answers honestly.
"I know, it's not without risks. This is the safest way. If we go by Monday, we have enough time to gather supplies."
"Monday?"
"Yes, I cannot go sooner, I'm attending the Quidditch final with my father, he will notice my disappearance. He is visiting, his mother in Scotland afterwards, he will be gone for a few days. He won't notice. Lady Lestrange will be attending the annual event held at Lord Lestrange manor. We could go, straight away. We will be across the channel before she's even home."
Blinking, Hermione is lost for words, staring at the detailed map. What is there to say? It's crazy, it's foolish. It's impossible, but the workings are solid. Lady Lestrange will be away for the night. It would give her a head start, she could be in another country before she realises. What of her mark? Will Lady Lestrange be able to hunt her down, Hermione isn't sure what magic the crest holds.
What of her death? If she stays, does she die? Or does she die running away? I die saving Lestrange. If she runs away with Luna, it means she's not near Lestrange, which means the prediction of her death is wrong. Unless Bellatrix tracks them down and they all die trying to break free. Can she do that to Luna? Can she be the cause of anything happening to Luna?
Is this the reason Luna has been so quiet lately? Building up the courage to ask Hermione to run away. I didn't want to get your hopes up. That's what Luna had said, the first time she tried to get the poem published. Is this the same situation? All this time, avoiding questions because she was planning their escape?
"So soon?" Hermione questions, just under a week away. Just under a week to escape into the unknown.
Is she running from her death or her servitude? Is she running towards death with Luna? Everything Luna has will be tarnished; she will be an outcast. Her life would be over.
"It has to be Monday," Luna replies insistent. "Everything works for Monday. What do you say?"
"It's crazy," Hermione answers moving away.
Running her hand through her hair, what does she say? It's all crazy, the very idea is crazy. She cannot abandon her post, can she? Cannot just leave her mistress, the shame it would bring on Lady Lestrange. The danger would put Lady Lestrange in with the Dark Lord. Can I be responsible for that?
If she stays, she dies. If she runs there's a high chance she dies. But it's their chance, a chance at happiness. At just them, being free from servitude. Away from the cruel world. A chance for normality.
"Yes," Hermione answers turning back to the witch. "It's crazy, but if you're sure…"
"I've never been more sure." Luna answers.
"Then yes, I'll run away with you."
"Really?" Luna launches across the room hugging Hermione. "Really?"
"Yeah," Hermione smiles pressing a kiss to the witch's temple. "I'd go tonight if I could. Lestrange won't be back until tomorrow from her birthday party."
"Monday," Luna reassures, "We'll have to run away Monday."
Smiling, Hermione hugs the witch, wondering what is so important about Monday. Regardless, of happiness, it's overpowering, she cannot help but squeeze Luna. Even if she dies running away, dies on the run, it would be her choice. For once in her life, she would be doing something just for herself and not for anyone else.
She would have her friend, her lover by her side. Luna wants Hermione wants to run away to be with Hermione. She has never felt so loved, has never had someone willing to risk everything just for her.
"I'll start preparing items for the trip." Luna grins.
"I'll research my mark, make sure it cannot be used to trace us, maybe there's a way to remove it." Hermione answers. "is there anything you need me to gather?"
"No, just research the mark, I will take care of the rest."
Luna is beaming, a shining beacon in the room, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Smiling, Hermione glances at the clock, cursing slightly. She has lost track of time, finishing tying her shoes, she looks around for her top.
"Looking for this?" Luna teases.
"Luna, I'm late, come on," Hermione grumbles.
"Fine," Luna grins pressing the top into Hermione's hand. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"
"Thursday hopefully,"
"No, Quidditch final."
"Oh, yeah, forgot about that." Hermione chuckles.
"Lady Lestrange not attending?"
"Doubtful," Hermione smiles, slipping on her top. "Depends on if Mrs Yaxley twists her arm or not. Most likely not, they're on rocky times."
"I'll see you soon."
Throwing her robe on, Hermione waves goodbye to the witch as she heads to floo network. In an instant, she is vanishing, barely reappearing before apparating away to the Lestrange manor. Lady Lestrange away attending her surprise birthday party at Lady Malfoy's.
Anxious, and excited, she controls her features, hoping not to show her emotions. Cannot let the staff get wind of what is happening. She heads about her business, as usual, barely containing her excitement. In a few days, she will be running away with Luna, to start a new life.
The Lost Memoirs
All bow, bow down,
Only the elite can come here
Only the monsters walk these halls
All bow down,
The academy eradicates the weak.
No one will hear your screams,
No one will see your scars,
All bow down,
No empathy is allowed here
Only purity in these halls.
All bow, bow down,
Kiss his feet
All bow down,
The Dark Lord needs soldiers
At his next feast.
The Academy
Silent Soul