A/N: In this chapter too, there is not much rewrite done in here except some polishing and the tail of this chapter. There are additions that will help to explain Yaxley's reactions and help to better transit to the next chapter.
September 1, 1986
In Winchester, life on a school day started only when the clock struck 7 in the morning. It was at that auspicious hour when cars would leave the garages, when fumes from cars would flee into the air, when the laughter of children would break the silence of dawn v and the birds would begin their choir. It was the time when a little girl began dreading her day.
At seven years of age, Hermione Granger had survived the first year in primary school and was waiting impatiently for another five more years to pass so that she could move to a new school. Sometimes, she wished that she were Aladdin with a magical lamp and she would wish to be studying somewhere else, anywhere, in London that was not Winchester Primary School. Not a day in the whole of last year that anyone in school had extended a hand of friendship to her. How unbelievable was it that in a school of many students, none of them wanted to be her friend? Hermione hated them. There was Arthur whatever-his-family-name-was and his two cronies: Javier Nasty-C-Grades and Sylvester Handsome-But-Mean, who would make school terribly upsetting.
Every day, they would corner her at her locker and steal her lunch money. Every day, they would yank her bag from her and empty its contents in the school yard. Every day, they would tip over her lunch box and stomp on her lunch. Every day, the other students would watch and none would come forward to help. All of them would look pitifully at her and turn their backs on her. Every day, she would tattle to the teachers and yet there would be no change. How could teachers go against the sons of Politicians?
Some days, Hermione wished she was not, as the teachers would praise, "An unbelievably smart girl". What was the point of being smart if she had no friends? What was the point of being the top student in everything for every assessment if no one wanted to be friends with her? Some days, Hermione would return home from school and cry in the shower. Some nights, she would cry to sleep. For the first few months of school, Hermione was positively excited to be in school and making friends her age yet as the months went on, she realized the ugly truth – no one wanted to befriend anyone smart. No one wanted to befriend a girl who could not control her wild curly hair and tie it into a presentable ponytail. No one wanted to befriend a girl with buck teeth and freckles on her nose and around her eyes. In short, no one wanted to be associated to a smart and ugly girl, and that was precisely who and what Hermione was.
"Hermione! Darling, please hurry or we can't have breakfast together!" Jean Granger hollered from the foot of the stairs as her husband prepared the breakfast table and fetched the morning papers from the porch. She returned to the table, kissed her husband's cheek and they waited for their only daughter to arrive.
Hermione stood in front of her mirror, and slowly buttoned her blouse. It had been a year but it did not mean she was used to it. Every morning, she would wake to see dried tear streaks on her face, and every morning after her morning shower, a new fresh trail of tears would appear. Sometimes, Hermione wondered if she would one day die from dehydration because of all the tears she had shed. The fantasy lasted for a while before her brilliant rubbished the thought. She sighed and squared her shoulders, picked her school bag and closed her bedroom door before she joined her parents for breakfast.
Every day, she would feel tears welling up in her eyes when her mother packs her lunchbox. Every day, she wanted to cry when her mother tells her to share her lunch with the other children. Every time, Hermione wanted to tell her parents about her terrible time in school but every time she would not. They had enough problems to content with, and she was a big girl, was she not? Surely, all big girls dealt with their problems on their own. So, Hermione always tell to them that school was fine. Every time she would put a smile and lie.
"Alright, darling," Jean looked at her adorable daughter and smiled encouragingly, "we will be back late tonight so please do not stay up for us."
Hermione nodded mutely. The day just got worse. Whenever her parents would be having long days at work, it only meant that Babysitter Karen would be coming and fetching her. Now, Babysitter Karen was not as terrible as Arthur and his two buddies, but Karen never cared. Karen was dismissive and indifferent. As Karen's best line went, "If you're ugly, you'll be bullied. Simple, no big deal. I don't see why you're making a fuss." Hermione sighed inwardly as she climbed into the car and strapped herself.
One day, someone will see my worth and be my friend.
The car rumbled to life, and Hermione watched the passing sceneries. It was always the same scenery – a field would flank one side of the road, separating the tall trees of the forest from the residents of Winchester. Some days, Hermione thought to wander into those woods and take a moment to pretend as if she were in Narnia. All she wanted was just one moment of adventure with a friend but those were just fairy tale illusions. That would always be what her mind said to vanquish the thought without reluctance.
Hermione rested her hands on the window as she watched the scene. The car came to a stop, probably due to traffic, her mind would supply. Hermione was surprised, not because that was usual and expected, but because she saw a huge orange thing that seemed to be looking in her direction in the woods. She blinked and it was gone!
"Of course, it was gone," Hermione giggled at her silly eyes. "How could a tiger possibly be that huge and in Winchester of all places?" She shook her head and giggled some more until her parents dropped her at school.
"Alright darling, remember-"
"Yes, mommy," Hermione nodded as she smiled at her mother, "I will study hard."
"Yes, of course," Jean smiled indulgingly, "but more importantly, remember to share your lunch with your friends." Hermione nodded and waved her parents goodbye and remained behind the school gates until she could not see the family car. Gloomy and dispirited, Hermione slowly trudged into school and braced herself for another day of bullying and another day of failure to make a friend.
First day of second year in school ended just like how it always ended. How could she ever expect today to be any different from the previous days? Hermione chided and scolded herself. As Sir Isaac Newton said, things would remain in the same motion if there was no change added to it. Arthur, Javier and Sylvester were the same bullies and their fathers were still part of the cabinet. She was still the same girl with buck teeth and uncontrollable curls. The school was the same. The students were still the same – there was no missing face, and certainly no new face.
As she trudged her way to the school gates, her brown eyes searched for a young woman with bright pink hair. Only Karen would dye her hair some awful color as a fashion rebel statement. Hermione walked to the babysitter and together, they returned to the Grangers' residence. Karen never helped Hermione to carry her bag or her school stuff, because as Karen would advise, "Big girls carry their own weight." Since then, Hermione would struggle with her school bag and her art materials, while Karen walked alongside her and conveniently ignored the way the other students jeered at her charge. Hermione would also not speak a word to Karen unless strictly necessary. Hermione was not terribly desperate for human interaction that she would talk to Karen only so she could feel even more terrible. Young Granger learnt that early and in the hard way.
As soon as they returned, Karen raided the Granger's fridge, settled herself on their couch and turned on the television. Hermione never stayed long enough around the woman to find out what she was watching. As long as Karen did not intrude on Hermione's business, Hermione was more than grateful. Depositing her school stuff in her room, Hermione peered out of her bedroom window to watch the life happening outside. Children her age were smiling and laughing, walking between their parents and the whole family would be having ice cream. Other children would be happily giggling as they played chase in the backyard. Every child seemed to have someone but her. Hermione wondered if she was the only child in the whole of Winchester that did not have a friend, and her only allies being her parents.
As Hermione was withdrawing away from the window to occupy herself with more books, she frowned as her eyes watched a suspicious figure walking casually into her family's shed. Without further thought, she armed herself with a coat hanger and a torchlight and went down to the forbidden place. Her parents had told her often enough never to enter the shed because behind the door were some of the most dangerous tools and she whole heartedly believed them. She hardly ever saw either of her parents enter the shed unless her father wanted to fix their car. Breathing deeply, she went down the stairs quietly, and out the backdoor without arousing Karen's attention. Getting Karen's attention would be a whole can of worms she was not prepared to deal with. Sneakily, Hermione crept to the shed before she stopped halfway and frowned. Why was she even sneaking into her family's property?
Just like that, Hermione found renewed bravery and approached the shed. Opening the door, a loud creak echoed and she winced. Holding the coat hanger in her master hand, the torchlight in the other, she carefully moved in the space. In the dingy room, the dust was thick and the sunlight flittered weakly through the open window on the far wall.
"Who is there?"
Walking ever deeper, she frowned when she saw a huge thing lying beneath the window. As she made her way closer gingerly, her startled gasp escaped her throat and a strangled cry echoed through the room. The door had shut and Hermione wondered if the wind had shut it or the person who was covering her mouth with their hand was the reason for the closed door.
"Shh, don't make a sound, Peanut," a voice whispered roughly somewhere over her head and Hermione found herself gulping. The man urged her forward gently and she walked closer and closer to the huge thing. Upon closer inspection, she noticed its orange fur and stripes. What was a tiger doing in her daddy's shed? Was it the orange thing she saw this morning? As her eyes went over its still form, Hermione noticed its body was riddled clumps of tangled matted fur and burnt patches. Its claws were far too long and piercing its paw pad. Its tail was burnt and part of the flesh was charred. The tiger looked far past its glory days, and terribly abused.
"I know you are scared," the man whispered, "so, don't make this more difficult for you." Hermione wondered if she could kick him but since he had disarmed her so easily without her noticing, the smarter decision was to obey and make a run back home at the earliest opportunity and call her parents and the police. Hermione breathed and nodded. Immediately, the hand around her mouth slipped away and the man walked around her and sat beside the beast. "Have a seat, Peanut. Let us redo our introduction," the man smiled disarmingly but having been at his mercy mere seconds ago, Hermione cautiously sat down, "So, what is your name?"
"Hermione. Hermione Granger, sir." Hermione noticed he was quite a... potentially refined looking man. His white blond hair was slicked back and his violet eyes twinkled. He was clad in a black open coat that was badly singed on the hems with one of the sleeves longer than the other, a matching pair of tattered black gloves and a white crumpled dress shirt that was ripped on the left rib, black pants and burnt brown shoes. He was, to Hermione's standards, very handsome if one just ignored his burnt clothes.
"What a beautiful name," the man smiled charmingly, "I am terribly apologetic for manhandling you but you see, that poor guy needs to rest in peace." Hermione understood, the tiger looked in terrible shape. "I am Corban," Yaxley bit the inside of his cheek as he tripped over his name to introduce himself, "Corban Ya-, just call me Corban. Pleasure to meet you, Peanut." Yaxley did not have to look at the tiger to know it had opened an eye and was giving him the most bemused stare.
Hermione frowned deeply. The man had asked for her name and had yet insisted on calling her by a moniker instead of her name? How terribly rude! "Sir Corban, I am Hermione," she insisted and enunciated her name slowly and syllable by syllable. She had thought he could not pronounce her name as did most of the people in Winchester. Perhaps, that was why he continued to call her by a nickname. Peanut was certainly simpler to pronounce than Hermione.
"Oh, believe me, Peanut, I heard you very well," Yaxley smiled but Hermione heard the edge of irritation creeping into his voice, "I just prefer to call you Peanut. You may call me whatever you wish just not Sir Corban; it makes me sound old. Surely, you would take that as a… token of friendship?"
Hermione blinked. Was this how people made friends? They called each other by nicknames? Hermione felt as if she had been enlightened and she was doubly overjoyed after registering that the man had declared them friends. Unable to find eloquent words to convey her happiness, Hermione nodded vigorously and smiled toothily at him.
Oh, such a defenseless naïve lamb.
"You know, Peanut, there is no other way to say this," Yaxley drawled while his eyes deliberately slid to the tiger which was breathing heavily and smiled inwardly when her eyes followed his gaze, "but will you help me watch this old guy while I head into town for his medicines? I can't leave this defenseless... beast on his own."
That was all it took for Hermione to race to her bedroom, and smuggled her blankets and towels into the shed. When she arrived, huffing and panting, and barely able to see anything in front of her, Yaxley was already fixing a collar chain on the tiger. Standing two feet away, she threw the towels and blankets on the animal that had still not bothered to look at her, and Yaxley chuckled softly. After the last of her smuggled cloth was thrown haphazardly on the back of the tiger, she turned to look up adoringly at Yaxley, "Corban, when you are gone, your pet won't eat me, would it?"
Should have worried about that from the start, Peanut. "I assure you he will do no such thing," Yaxley assured her confidently but the true recipient of the firm words raised its head and opened its eyes to regard him. Yaxley's violet eyes stared down the grey eyes, and the silent staring match went unknown to the child. A moment later, the tiger rolled its eyes and dropped its head on his paws with a low growl. Satisfied at Dolohov's relent, Yaxley put on his playful smile as he addressed her, "Alright, Peanut, I will return shortly."
While Yaxley was gone, Hermione watched the terribly mistreated beast resting on his belly with his front paws resting on his eyes. His large claws looked to be protruding painfully. They almost looked too long for him to retract them back. Reaching out slowly and cautiously, Hermione touched his tangled and matted fur that were coated in grime and dried blood. She was especially careful of the burnt patches that still looked delicate enough to bleed again. Some of its flesh, especially near its rear, was burnt horribly. Hermione saw her tears dripped onto the back of her palms as she gingerly touched the injured beast. Her fingers ghosted over the burnt tail and tenderly moved over the broken ribs. Who could have injured a beautiful beast so terribly that it was struggling to live? Hermione clung onto its neck and sobbed into its fur. She lamented its fate and its condition in between shaky gasps and gulps.
Dolohov remained still as the tiny girl touched him. It was not as if he wanted to lie still and be under her touch, but it was because of the pain and broken ribs he suffered during the break out last night. It was anyone's guess what happened after Yaxley found him, but he was certain they had plenty of difficult times. Dolohov concentrated on staying in his beast form; it would be unthinkable if his concentration snapped and he transformed in front of her into a man. One thing at a time, he reminded himself. Being touched and inspected by a muggle child was less humiliating than being found defenseless and deathly on the floor of a muggle property. He was a pure blood wizard, one of the ancient lines in Russia, and he would choose his place of death. That was something he would not negotiate and leave to fate. He came to the world as an aristocrat, he would leave it as an aristocrat. He would not be a fallen noble; Yaxley could take the role if he wanted. Dolohov would not be reduced to a cheap Romeo; he would never give up who and what he was for some muggle chit. He was not as facetious and rakish as Yaxley.
As she continued her hugging of his neck, Dolohov started to grimace. No doubt, with the sounds of sniffling, her tears and snot would mix somewhere with his hair. Burdened with his unfortunate and very cadaverous circumstances, and motivated by his powerful desire to get her out of his fur, Dolohov did the only thing he could do without moving much – he purred. Feeling the rumble rolling through his body, Dolohov hoped she would finally entangle herself from him. It would not do for anyone, especially Yaxley, to see him so smothered by a child, especially a muggle child. Very slowly, with great reluctance, the tiny arms disentangled from around his neck and her small face invaded his sight. Her face was a mess of tear trails, dried and wet snot smeared around her nose and cheeks, and some of his fur was stuck onto her. She was such a poor picture of innocence.
Through shuddering breaths, she sniveled an apology as she patted his head sadly. She apologized on behalf of the cruel zookeepers, the heartless zoo owner and ultimately, the self-serving tourists who only wanted him to be a trophy animal more than preserving his…species. It was no wonder he would escape the zoo. Dolohov merely stared at her with cold indifference as he listened to her assumptions of his plight. Had she been a witch, even a muggle born witch, and attended Hogwarts; it would be very likely that she would be housed with the Gryffindors. It took courage, extreme recklessness in her case, to sit very closely to a beast which had the bite power to crush her easily. Perhaps Hufflepuff would be a good fit, given the loyalty and sincerity she was giving to the friendship Yaxley had carelessly, and certainly not with a shred of sincerity, offered to her. Slytherin was the least suited for her, especially given her lack of blood purity but that did not mean she had no sense of cunningness. Dolohov was sure she, as every other person, could be cunning should the need for it arise – no one was devoid of any trait. Suppressed, maybe. Devoid, impo-
"You know, you have the most beautiful grey eyes. They look like storm clouds!" Dolohov blinked and stared at her in shock. To say he was taken aback was an understatement. Beautiful eyes? Dolohov pulled back his lips into a snarl and growled. He would not be like the narcissistic pretty Malfoy boy. Beautiful should never be a word to describe any part of him. "I think I'll call you Storm!" she giggled and clapped her hands, "Such pretty grey eyes." Dolohov glared at her. She had the gall to rename him and call him pretty? This muggle needed to be taught a lesson. Nobody, nobody at all, would ever call him beautiful and pretty. She would not effeminate and humiliate his ego any more than this. She would pay so dearly for her ignorance. He was Antonin Dolohov the Death Eater, the Tormentor, the Azkaban Escapee. In which of his titles warranted the words beautiful and pretty? Dolohov was incensed.
"You're a tough guy, huh," she giggled as if she saw the blazing rage in his eyes. As if she had not made enough fun of him, she went for the sucker punch. "Corban must know of your eyes!" Dolohov, without fully thinking of his actions, swiped a paw at her and knocked her onto the ground. Stalking over, he pinned her shoulders down with his paws and brought his face close to hers, and growled. Oh, he remembered his promise to Yaxley not to eat her but that did not mean he could not kill her. Barring his teeth, he was certain she was terrified. Muggle, she may be, but even she had some survival instincts, surely? No, Dolohov was wrong about her; she had none because she giggled openly at him. Confused, Dolohov retracted and stared at her. As if she could sense his confusion, she hugged his neck and smiled into his fur. "I'm sorry for making you angry." Ruffling his fur, she eventually released him and leaned against his less wounded side. Silence waned on as they waited for Yaxley, and Dolohov felt tension gradually leaving his pores. Finally at peace after the whole mind-boggling nonsense with the young muggle, Dolohov's body relaxed comfortably and he started chuffing softly. Everything was go-
"Corban seems a nice man," she said so abruptly that Dolohov's eyes flew open and the low humming from him ended. Grey eyes slid along and looked at her. "He is a bit like my daddy, except more… funny. Daddy is always very serious." She nodded her head as if she was reaffirming and emphasizing the undeniable differences between the men.
Missy, you do not even know half the things Yaxley has done, never mind what he is truly capable of.
Dolohov very much wanted to do something to her, except he was not sure any of his actions would bring him satisfaction. She was either too innocent and trusting, or simply too fearless. Granted, she did not actually know who they truly were. Yaxley may have told her his name but without his surname, there was no way she would know she was huddling with what the wizarding society would call cold-blooded terrorists. Merlin! As Dolohov continued contemplating the mystery of the child, the exhaustion and pain from last night's adventure was starting to catch up to him. No doubt, Yaxley's charms on him were fading quickly. Dolohov knew he needed the potions quickly, or at the least, some sustenance. The more he was getting aware of his condition, the more his concentration to remain in his beast form was flickering and fading. Dolohov shut his eyes and focused all his mind on-
Hermione tilted her head to look at the beast and a wide toothy grin exploded on her face. "That was your stomach!" she exclaimed and Dolohov winced as her high-pitched voice brought a wave of headache to him, "I'll go in and find you some food. I'll be back… please don't wander away or Corban will be very cross with me." Skipping out of the shed, and closing the door carefully, Hermione snuck into her kitchen through the back door.
Dolohov, on the other hand, had reverted into his human form as soon as she left and cursed Azkaban in between gasps of labored breath. For his Dark Lord, he would not die in a muggle shed. He would much rather love a muggle than be caught dead and humiliated like a feeble common muggle Joe on the disgusting gravel. At least with the former, he would only suffer heart-
They are here.
Dolohov struggled to his knees, and swore when he felt his fractured ribs. He faced the door and waited for the inevitable. The aurors worked fast, and if they arrived before Yaxley returned, they could retrieve him without much fight on his part. He was still wandless, not that he believed he could do much even with a wand in his current situation. His body shook terribly. There was no way he would be able to aim well or even have enough magic and steady focus to fire a spell with intention. The excruciating pain surging through him, he was sure, was proving to be a very huge distraction. Dolohov closed his eyes and embraced death's impending welcome. A moment passed, and then two and Dolohov reopened his eyes, and frowned. It was not death that whispered to him, but rather a soft discussion flittered before a short magic tantrum erupted and died, and silence prevailed once again. Dolohov frowned at the door, and a single question burnt in his mind.
Why?
Hermione, as quietly as she could to avoid catching the attention of Karen, slowly searched the kitchen for food. Taking tuna cans, bottles of water, and some fruits, she carried them gingerly to the shed. Juggling her food and looking down so she would not trip, Hermione walked into the back of a man. Looking up, she looked into the strangest of pairs and pursed her lips.
"Hello, girl," he greeted her kindly while his partner simply glared at her as if she was interrupting their work instead of them intruding on her family's property. How terribly rude!
"Who are you?" Hermione asked curiously as she stared at them. One had blond hair and kind blue eyes, while the other simply looked an older Arthur. It must be Arthur's brother or uncle. Arthur must have had told his family how smart and ugly she was. That would explain why the man gave her the ugliest scowls and rudest glare especially when this was the first time she had met him.
"I'm Peter Williamson and he's Garry Collymore. We are detectives from London's Police Department. Who might you be?" He had flashed her his id and Hermione nodded appreciatively. Mr Williamson could be trusted.
"Hermione. Hermione Granger, sir."
"So, Little Miss Granger, have you seen any…" Mr Williamson paused and thought of the most appropriate word. It would not do to scare a muggle child about an escapee who happened to be a terrorist who was wandering in her neighborhood, especially when she was everything he hated. "Any… suspicious character recently?"
Hermione frowned. Surely Corban and his pet tiger would be considered suspicious but should she tattle on her first friends? When she rationalized it that way, the answer was obvious. She would not continue holding the undisputed champion title of being the only person in the whole of Winchester who had no friends, and no support bar her parents. Hermione shook her head.
"I am sure Yaxley's magic was felt here!" Mr Older Arthur shouted indignantly and glared fiercely at her, "You, little lying chit! Tell us the truth!" Grabbing her cheeks in one hand, Hermione stared in shock and dropped her goods as he forced her mouth open. Quickly, he uncorked a flask and tipped the contents into her mouth. Just as the first drop was about to touch her lips, the strangest of things happened. The breeze around them picked up significant speed and was quickly turning into a gust. Nearby birds started flying around them while the lamp posts lining the streets started to flicker. Hermione was furious. She was terrified too but she would not be forced to sell her first friends out. She would defend them, she would hide them and she would do all she can to help them. Even if it meant, she would lie.
"Blimey, Garry! She is a witch!" Mr Williamson exclaimed as he forced his partner to release her. Hermione stared up at them in horror. That was the final nail into her coffin, was it not? A witch surely had no place amongst them! What would her parents say? Would they ship her away or drop her to an orphanage to be adopted? Hermione was truly terrified for her fate. Was this cruel fate the price she paid for lying in the hopes to protect her friends? What had she ever done to deserve such terrible cards at life?
"Well, what do you know," Mr Williamson smiled down at her, "You're a muggle born witch, just as I am a muggle born wizard." Hermione had no idea what they were talking about and she was not even sure she wanted to know. Right now, she had more worrying and depressing matters. What could be worse than this? If anyone in Winchester knew that she was a witch, there would be a relentless hunt for her. "If she met them, I am sure she would not still be standing here," Mr Williamson continued talking to Mr Older Arthur who nodded mutely while looking around. Finally, Mr Williamson noticed her distress, apologized for the rough handling of his rude partner and the pair of them swiftly left the scene leaving a stunned Hermione behind. Terrified for her fate, Hermione slowly and numbly gathered whatever good was salvageable from the lawn, and headed to the shed. Storm's survival was depending on her, and she would not fail Corban by letting it starve. She could only hope that there was at least something good she could do to gather some good karma points before Winchester started a rally for a witch hunt.
Searching for a basin in the shed, Hermione emptied all the bottles and pushed the basin of water to the tiger who was watching her very carefully. Without prompting, Storm started lapping and Hermione busied with laying out the fruits. She drew her legs and wrapped her arms around them, while she watched the tiger devour everything by the side with tears sliding off her face. Perhaps if she were to die in the coming days, maybe it would be a merciful death if only because that would be a nice karma for the goodwill she did for Corban's pet. Noticing her distress, Storm stopped eating and looked at her. Its grey eyes stared at her and Hermione did her best to put the bravest smile. What was the point of looking upset to an animal? Especially since the animal had not done anything to hurt her, and probably would never.
Slowly, Storm approached her and bumped his nose on her hand. Hermione stared at the tiger which was slowly blinking at her and finally she reached forward and scratched it behind its ears. The tiger purred deeply as it lied beside her and Hermione giggled every time she felt a rumble went through his body. Hermione felt calmness settle over her and started to curl against the warmth of the beast. Just as she was about to fall deeply into her sleep, a distressingly loud thud slammed rudely onto the tin roof of the shed, and Storm glared and growled threateningly at the roof. Hermione immediately sat up and watched a golden eagle descending through the hole. Upon touching down, the golden eagle magically turned into a familiar man. Had Hermione blinked during the entire episode, she would have thought herself crazy but seeing was believing, and she believed wholly that Corban was a man and a golden eagle.
"I'm ba-" Yaxley announced jovially until he noticed the open-mouthed expression of the girl who was gripping a handful of Storm's fur. "Ah, right. So, you're still awake. Hello, Peanut."
"You… what are you?" she stuttered as she raised a shaking finger at Yaxley who merely tilted his head to the side with the most patient smile, and waited for her to arrive to a conclusion. "Corban, you are a wizard too?"
The friendly smile on the blonde's face evaporated instantly and what greeted her was the laziest of smiles. "That, I am," he drawled as he took deliberately slow steps to the young girl who beamed in relief, "but you know Peanut, I heard someone in here lied to the police. Would you happen to know anything about it?"
Hermione bit her lip and looked down. She could not look at the face of the only person, outside of her family, who had been friendly to her. What would they think of her now? A smart and ugly girl with no friends and had just lied the police! She was sure lying made her even more unworthy of friends; not to mention that they called her a muggle-born witch. The only solace she could get from this was Corban was also a wizard, and he was nice. For the rest of the world, Hermione was not sure. Life simply could not be nice to her, could it? So, should she lie to her new friend as well? "I… Will you hate me too?"
"Why did you lie to them, Peanut? Were you afraid they would take him away?"
Hermione followed Yaxley's gaze and stared at Storm. His grey eyes were focused on Yaxley and Hermione nodded sadly. Tears welled in her eyes. She was going to lose his friendship. He would never want to be friends with her again. Who wanted to be friends with a liar? Was honesty not the virtue to be respected? Was honesty not the trait that earned you friends? Hermione fell to her knees as she started sobbing. This must be why she had no friends. This must be the final nail in the coffin. Arthur, Javier and Sylvester and everyone in school, and in Winchester… All of them must have known she was a liar. She heard Yaxley standing and walking but what he did was far from what she expected. He held her while she wept in his arms. "Shh Peanut, it's okay," Yaxley crooned, "I won't look at you any lesser after what you did."
Yaxley withdrew from the hug and started walking towards the exit without looking back, and Hermione stared at his back. Was this how her friendship with him going to be? Anxiety and hurt started bubbling in her as she looked at the back of the blonde. How could this be fair? She was just starting to enjoy having a friend. It was not fair that the friendship could be ripped away just because she lied to protect his pet! He even said it himself that her worth in his eyes would not diminish! How was this logical?
"You know, Peanut, I was really starting to be fond of you," Yaxley sighed as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. Her tears were running freely down her cheeks but his violet eyes remained unsympathetic. "If only you didn't know…" A growl of warning rumbled low in the shed and Yaxley tilted his head to regard the tiger which had stood to its height. Ignoring the warning growl, Yaxley returned his attention to the crying child. "It's really too bad that you found out that I'm a wizard," Yaxley murmured as he shook his head a little too sadly to be genuine. "There are very few things in life I hate; uncovering my secrets is top of that list."
"I'll forget everything tonight!" Hermione begged her new friend. She realized she would do anything to keep her first friend. If her knowledge of him being a wizard, she would force herself to forget it. "Please just…"
"I won't like to do this but it's for the good of everybody in the long run," Yaxley sighed loudly and melodramatically and slipped his hand into his coat pocket. Just as he withdrew a wand, Storm, which had been very inactive throughout the day, leaped over the child, and stood unsteadily in between the man and child. It growled low and barred its teeth and claws. Yaxley's cruel violet eyes shifted away from Hermione's and focused on the grey eyes. Yaxley noticed the tension radiating from Dolohov's limps and knew if he pursued his blood lust, he would have to take Dolohov down before getting to her. Violet eyes flicked to the cowering girl hiding behind the tiger and bit the inside of his cheek. Was this some kind of payback? Dolohov had given in to him earlier on, and was he expected to return the favor? Funny how they were both giving in because of the same person.
Hermione Granger, what a special child you are.
A moment passed, and then two before his lazy smile evaporated into a friendly smile and he took lighter steps around the tiger to crouch in front of the girl. Soundlessly, the tiger returned to its spot and crumpled unceremoniously with its eyes closed. "Oh Peanut, that was scary, wasn't it?" he nodded sadly and allowed his countenance to evolve into one of pity. Hermione nodded slowly at him, but it was obvious she was still terrified of him. "So, if you tell anyone what you saw tonight," Yaxley whispered as his eyes filled with unspoken apology while Dolohov kept an eye open on him, "they would catch me. They would force me to transform into the eagle, and they would shred my wings." Hermione's eyes blew open as her mouth opened to release a scream but all that came was a strangled choke.
"Then they would pluck my feathers, gouged out my eyes," Yaxley whispered hoarsely while he continued weaving lies into a believable threat, "and they would laugh. All. The. Time. It will end, of course it will, but only when they grow bored of me." Dolohov rolled his eyes at Yaxley's theatrical lies. Trust Yaxley to spin exaggerated stories.
"So, you need keep it a secret between us… like friends," Yaxley softened his voice in a plea to her altruism and she nodded with all the fervor of her young self. Just like that, the heavy tension and suffocating fear was elevated in the shed. Yaxley pulled her into a hug while he looked at Dolohov who merely snorted. "They did it once to poor bas-"
"Storm! His name is Storm."
Yaxley pulled away from the hug to look quizzically at Hermione before looking to Dolohov who turned the other cheek and resolutely refused to look at him. A cheeky smile blossomed on Yaxley's face, and amusement twinkled unabashed in his violet eyes as he turned back to the girl. "Storm? Why do you call him Storm?"
"He had no name tag. I thought he was nameless," she murmured guiltily feeling downcast now that she realized she had renamed Corban's pet, "but he has the prettiest grey eyes! Like storm clouds!"
Yaxley chuckled and they watched the tiger cover its face with its paws. "Oh, I am sure Storm is most delighted that you admire his eyes!" Yaxley snickered at the expense of the other man. There would be time later to ridicule his best friend, but now, they had dawdled enough with the girl. It was time to wrap up the business. While Hermione was giggling as well, and Yaxley drew her into another hug and whispered, "Peanut, we're leaving tonight," Yaxley murmured into her hair as she clung onto his shoulders, "we can't stay." Just as he was about to press a pressure point on her neck, Hermione drew out of the hug.
"Can't we be long distance friends?"
Yaxley gave a quick look at Dolohov and sighed, "Well… well, I suppose we could." The last thing he expected from her since he acquiesced, was her small arms circling around him and squeezing him tightly. Innocent heartfelt hugs felt… good. Breathing into her hair, he patted her back and pressed her head gently onto his shoulder with his other hand. "Can you wait for my letter?"
The brightest and most innocent smile exploded on her face, and Yaxley could not stop himself from smiling faintly at her. A low growl rumbled through the shed and Yaxley looked heavenwards. It was dangerous enough for all of them, and Yaxley was sure this would come back to haunt them in future. When the Dark Lord returns, could he and Dolohov kill her? It would be almost undeniable that they would kill her; but would it be quick and merciful, or long and agonizing? That would be an interesting troublesome situation.
"Sorry, Peanut." Without warning, he pressed a pressure point in her neck and allowed Hermione's body fall limp on him. He stared at the face of the unconscious child and sighed ruefully.
"She's not her."
Yaxley released an even heavier sigh as his hand combed her hair a little too naturally. "I know," he whispered softly, "but she looks so much like her. Same hair, same eyes... and the same naiveté."
Dolohov, who had already released his animagi transformation, looked at the Scot quietly and shook his head. This was the wizard known and feared for his unpredictable nature and his deadly dueling skills. He was the laughing jester, the phantom magician, the circus clown, the master of the stage. Every of his battlefield was his stage, and everyone acted only at his discretion. Even the Dark Lord was a little cautious around the wizard who was proficient and extremely creative in the use of ancient fire magic. Despite all this, he was man completely and utterly defeated by a woman. She did not even have to raise her hand, never mind be armed, to defeat him. Such was his absolute defeat. Incomprehensible, unbelievable but absolutely true. "Let the girl go, Corban," he said lowly as he uncorked the potions, "do not burden the girl."
"Of course," Yaxley chuckled airily as his lips curled into a gentle smile, "this one is a muggleborn. She's simply incomparable." As he carried Hermione's body as carefully as he could, he left the shed. Stealthily moving through the house, Yaxley watched her babysitter and paused in his mission. He clicked his tongue as he considered hexing the woman but decided to shake his head instead. His magic would have been wasted on her. He climbed the stairs and tucked the girl in her bed. Looking down on her sleeping face, Yaxley sighed and kneeled on the floor beside her. If he had married her, their daughter would have looked like every bit like Peanut – taken all the beautiful features from her.
If only…
Yaxley leaned closer and patted her hair lightly. "This is no fault of yours but I really hate being reminded of my failures and past," he murmured as he took out a wand and pressed it gently against her neck, "it's most unfortunate that you look like her." The least he could do to this girl, would be to send her to her maker swiftly, painlessly and mercifully. Just a simple spell. No witnesses. Of course, Dolohov would know and he would be annoyed but they went too far back to hold petty grudges. It was not as if Antonin owed the Peanut a life debt – it was simply about courtesy and repaying kindness. There was no doubt that if the junior aurors from earlier had insisted on entering the shed, he would have interfered and killed all of them easily. After all, he had already returned when the aurors came, poised on her house's roof and ready to kill but Peanut… What a brave girl she was! Daring to go up against people who could very easily kill her. Foolish but brave.
Yaxley sighed as he moved away from her and diverted his attention to the window. With the sun already setting, he had to make a decision soon. He could not waste more time when they had an important destination in mind, and especially when Dolohov's survival was a torturous race against time. Slowly, almost a little tiredly and regrettably, Yaxley rose to his feet and walked towards the window, while the wand was carelessly tapped against his temple. He opened the window and peered down at the shed. He could skip the magical way of murder and decide on the muggle way – just toss her out of the window. At the height, she would be impaled by the picket fences, or broke a few bones. If she survived the fall, he could cast a spell and have her fractures pierce her organs and she could bleed to death. No one would be wiser. It would all look natural. Accidental.
At last, he came to a decision. He left the room with a soft click as he silently headed towards the shed to collect his best friend and continue their journey.
Good night Hermione Granger. You will see the light of another day if only at my discretion.
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