A/N: Hey all! I want to reiterate that A LOT of these lines are straight from The Princess Bride, and I do not own them. They're just too good for me to pretend like I can write it better. :) More notes at the end; enjoy the read!
As it breached the horizon, the sun's golden rays shone like a prism through the channel. Two sail boats raced through the water, careening towards white limestone bluffs that rose impossibly high. In the lead boat, Ron sat, wrists tied together, staring dejectedly out the front as Lucius barked orders to Harry and Hagrid. The lackeys raced around the deck, preparing the boat for arrival.
The trailing ship followed in an eerie silence, its presence a constant amplifier of the anxiety in the ship it chased. Though the gap between vessels had been steadily closing over the past few hours, Lucius was nearly preening with glee as the boat slowed into position to moor.
"They are too late, whoever they are," he scoffed, pulling Ron roughly to his feet as Hagrid lowered the gangplank. "Feel the dampening field?"
Ron kept his jaws clenched, refusing to acknowledge the tight stretched feeling against his skin and the light prickle on his arms. Lucius smirked, aware of the answer, and continued his taunts as he drug Ron off the ship. "You feel it, don't you? You know what it is, Highness?" He emphasized the last word mockingly.
Ron turned his gaze away from his captor, watching Harry and Hagrid continue their work, even as Lucius' next words washed over him. "The dampening field is a natural barrier of the Cliffs, created by the magical resonance of the local Phoenix flock."
Hagrid strode to the edge of the cliffs, where he grasped the end of a rope that until then had been unnoticed and fit it into a harness around his waist. Ron peered up, as though trying to follow the trail of the rope to the top of the cliffs, but losing it in the distance.
Lucius roughly grasped Ron by the arm again, forcing it around Hagrid's neck as Harry attached himself to the harness from the other side. "It means," Lucius continued, strapping himself in, "that whoever is following us is too late." Hagrid began to climb hand over hand, hauling all four of them up the side of the cliff. Ron's stomach dropped as his feet left the ground, and he was fearful to realize that Hagrid meant to scale the entirety of the precipice.
"Don't you see, Highness? Only Hagrid can go up this way, and your would-be-liberator won't be able to use magic." Lucius smirked at Ron over Hagrid's shoulder, and looking up, Ron had to admit that the tops of the cliffs loomed imposingly, even at Hagrid's impressive pace.
The group of four was already at least fifty metres from the ground when the second ship pulled in beside the first. A figure, dressed all in black, hustled around the deck of the boat, mooring it before dropping the gangplank and running on quick steps to the foot of the cliffs. She threw a long brown braid of hair over her shoulder as she peered up at Hagrid's retreating form, face obscured by a black mask tied over her eyes.
She tugged experimentally on the length of rope, taking a deep breath as though steeling her nerves. She secured the cord to a harness around her waist, then began to climb.
She'd clearly come prepared, as a few metres from the ground she shoved a cam into the widest part of an opening in the rock face, then tugged it down until it was wedged in a crack. She clipped a short length of rope from her waist to the wire loop attached to the cam, before continuing up. Every couple metres she repeated these actions, removing her tie off from the previous cam and tying onto the next one. Her movements were efficient, practiced, pushing with her legs from ledge to ledge. She didn't look up, she didn't look down, she merely climbed, her focused motions propelling her quickly up the side of the cliffs.
"She's climbing," Harry said, sounding incredulous as he peered down at the black figure below them. "I don't believe it."
"Inconceivable," Lucius' voice was a deadly hiss. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and despite being within feet of Hagrid's hairy face, he began to shout. "Faster!"
"I though' I was goin' faster," Hagrid grunted, still climbing hand over hand. Sweat beaded and fell down his face. "I'm carrying three people."
"I'll just have to find myself a new giant," Lucius threatened.
"Don' say tha'," Hagrid pleaded, arms shaking with the effort.
The top of the cliffs was only metres away, though the figure in black had closed the distance considerably. Hagrid breached the edge, and Harry scrambled over quickly, helping to pull Ron up. Lucius lept lightly over to where the rope was tied off on a large boulder, sawing on it with a small knife as Hagrid pulled himself onto the ledge.
The strands of the rope snapped slowly, each painstaking minute spent sawing allowing the figure in black to gain ground. With one final crack, the cord severed completely and dragged through the dust off the edge of the cliff. Lucius ran to peer over the side, standing in disbelief for a moment before shouting.
"Inconceivable!"
The figure in black was hanging from the rocks, caught by her safety tie off. She scrambled to regain her hand and footholds, clinging tightly to the cliff face. She was shaking slightly, forcing ragged breaths, though it wasn't visible to Lucius, who was now flanked by Hagrid and Harry, all staring over the edge.
"Inconceivable," he repeated, tone as icy as his expression.
"You keep using that word," Harry snapped, meeting his employer's gaze defiantly. "I don't think it means what you think it means."
Lucius scoffed and turned on his heel, gesturing for them to follow. "It is no matter. She must die. Hagrid, with me, and bring the Prince. Harry," he wheeled about, fixing Harry with a glare. "Meet us at the Guilder frontier when you've disposed of her. If she falls, fine. If not, the sword." He signaled at Hagrid before stalking off.
Hagrid grabbed onto Ron's shoulder lightly, then touched Harry's elbow. "Be careful," he warned. "People in masks cannot be trusted." Harry nodded his understanding, and Hagrid led Ron away, his grip on the prisoner significantly gentler than Lucius' had been.
Harry looked over the edge again, then shook his head and began to pace, examining his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be the abandoned ruins of a fortress, so old that the surviving walls stood only a couple feet over his head, no ceilings left intact. The rest of the terrain was dusty, littered with the occasional shrubbery.
Harry drew his sword, giving it practiced swings and stepping through precise footwork. He sheathed his sword, approached the rim of the cliff. "Hello down there," he called. The figure in black gave a big push with her right leg, extending her left arm and pulling herself several feet closer to the top. "Slow going?"
A few loose stones fell from the figure in black's handhold, and she grunted. "I don't mean to be rude," she answered, not looking at Harry. "But this isn't as easy as it looks. I would appreciate it if you could refrain from distracting me."
Harry paced a bit, sighing and turning back to the climber. "I don't suppose you could speed things up?"
The figure in black shoved another cam into the wall, retying herself to the new safety anchor. "If you're really in such a hurry, you could lower a rope, or find something otherwise useful to do."
"I could do that," Harry agreed, "but I don't see why you'd trust me, seeing as I'm just waiting around to kill you."
"That certainly puts a damper on our relationship," she responded, looking up and meeting Harry's eyes for the first time.
Harry paced a few steps again, kicking at some rocks and running his hands through his hair. He checked on the figure in black's status, to see she was still at least twenty metres from the ledge. "Ok, what if," he suggested enthusiastically. "What if I promise to not kill you until you reach the top?"
The figure in black pushed up another handhold, gaining another few feet. "No good," she panted. "I'm afraid you'll just have to wait."
Harry mussed his hair again, muttering to himself, "I hate waiting." He made it only a couple more minutes, before resuming his negotiations. "Is there nothing I can do to make you trust me?"
"Nothing comes to mind." She gazed up, meeting Harry's eyes again. He maintained the contact as he poured sincerity into his next words.
"I swear on the souls of my mother and father, you will reach the top alive."
There was a pause while the figure in black assessed these words, then she muttered quietly, "throw me the rope."
Excited about action, Harry hustled over to the cord tied around the boulder and uncoiled several lengths, dragging it to the ledge and throwing it over. The figure in black grabbed the end, and two worked in tandem to pull her up to the top. She scrambled over the edge and hopped to her feet, panting as she attempted to draw her sword.
Harry waved his hands, shaking his head and proclaiming, "no please. We can wait. Catch your breath."
She cocked her head to the side, studying him. "Thank you," she finally agreed, sitting down on a boulder and rolling her shoulders.
Harry's gaze was caught by her hands, which were gloved in a black leather. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm not sure how to ask this, but... you don't by any chance have a skull and snake tattoo on your left wrist?"
The figure in black tilted her head, surprised twice by Harry's actions. "Do you always begin conversations this way?" When Harry remained silent, she pulled up the sleeve of her black tunic, showing him the bare skin of her left forearm.
"A tattooed woman slaughtered my godfather when I was but fifteen," Harry stated sadly, fixing her with a penetrating stare. "He raised me after my parents died. He was my family."
"I'm sorry," the figure in black said sympathetically.
Harry nodded his thanks and continued, "She showed up at our door one day, demanding that we pledge our loyalties to a cause that my godfather didn't believe in. He told her he disagreed, and without a word she cast the killing curse, dropping him dead on our doorstep."
The figure in black gasped, brown eyes glistening beneath her mask. "No!"
"I loved him," Harry said simply. "So naturally, I challenged her to a duel. Being young, and not a fully qualified wizard, I thought my odds were better at steel than wood… but I still failed." He looked down at his hands. "She left me alive, but she gave me this." He pushed aside the fringe on his forehead to expose a lightning shaped scar on his skin. "After that, I dedicated my life to fencing, determined that the next time I meet her, I will not fail." His green eyes shone with determination. "I will walk up to the tattooed woman and say 'Hello, my name is Harry Potter. You killed my godfather. Prepare to die."
The figure in black studied Harry, her mouth hanging slightly agape. "So, you've done nothing but study swordplay since then?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I just work for Lucius to pay the bills. There's not a lot of money in revenge."
"I really hope you can find her someday," the figure in black said sincerely as she stood. She removed the harness still around her waist and discarded it, before drawing her sword.
Harry stood as well, unsheathing his own weapon. "Rules," he said brusquely. "No magic, although it's not possible so close to the cliffs anyways. And we aim to kill."
"Agreed." The figure in black crouched into a fencing stance.
"You seem like a decent person," Harry reflected mournfully, falling into his readiness position. "I hate to kill you."
"You seem like a decent person," she parroted as they began to circle each other. "I hate to die."
Harry advanced experimentally, the flick of his sword easily blocked by the figure in black. The duelers resumed their previous distance, circling again. Harry feinted to the side then attacked with a full lunge. The figure in black parried, and, stepping to the side, let Harry's weight carry him past her.
Excited by this development, Harry grinned, and the swordplay began in earnest. The figure in black fenced very defensively, letting Harry's attacks hammer her, though she gave up no ground. He danced around her, feinting and lunging, and soon was breathing hard with the effort.
"You are wonderful," Harry beamed, eyes shining with enthusiasm.
"Thank you," the figure in black said, stepping calmly out of the way of his swinging blade. "I've worked hard to become so."
"I admit it, I cannot touch you," Harry panted, though a small grin played on his lips.
"Then why are you smiling?" The figure in black asked, turning with Harry's attack so that she required very little force to parry his sword.
"Because I know something you don't know," Harry answered, stepping back from her and wiping the sweat off his brow. He tossed his blade up and caught it with his other hand, swinging it now with even more confidence. "I am not left handed."
The vigor with which he besieged the figure in black now was unparallelled, and she was barely able to keep up with his thrusts. She was forced backwards, climbing a small staircase into the ruins of the fortress, even while she worked to parry Harry's relentless attack.
"You're amazing," she exclaimed, her breathing now labored too.
"I ought to be after twenty years," Harry replied, the tip of his sword catching hers so that he pinned it against a dilapidated pillar, rattling the rusty chains anchored there.
"There's something I ought to tell you," the figure in black said nervously, trying in vain to dislodge her sword as Harry pressed against her arm aggressively.
"Tell me," Harry smiled, full of confidence.
"I'm not really a fighter," she replied, then with her free hand, deftly slapped a handcuff around his wrist before securing the other end through a loop in one of the bulky chain links. She stepped away quickly as Harry pulled against his new restraint. "I prefer to handle my problems with my brains."
Harry yanked his wrist in irritation, shaking the chains loudly. "This is cheating! We said a duel to the death."
"And risk one of us being killed?" The figure in black exclaimed. "I don't want to die, and I'd sooner destroy a stained glass window than an artist like yourself. But, I can't have you following me, and I must press on." She sheathed her sword and turned to leave.
"Who are you?" Harry called after her, looking torn between shock and frustration. "I must know."
"Get used to disappointment," she called back, taking off at a run to follow Hagrid's trail.
The figure in black jogged for nearly ten minutes, the terrain changing before her eyes from the ruins of the fortress to a steep, grassy hillside, littered with enormous boulders. As she wove a path through the stones, a rock soared past her head, mere inches away, before exploding against the side of a boulder behind her. She drew her wand quickly, circling to see where it'd come from.
"I did tha' on purpose," Hagrid called, emerging from behind another large slab of rock and holding a stone in his hand. "I didn' have ter miss."
"I believe you," the figure in black responded. They eyed each other in silence. "So what happens now?"
"We face each other fairly," Hagrid replied, holding up the rock in his enormous hands. "No magic, no weapons, skill against skill on'y."
"You mean," the figure in black said slowly, assessing the situation. "You mean, you'll put down your rock, and I'll put down my wand, and we'll try to kill each other like civilized people?" Hagrid nodded happily, tossing the rock to the side as the figure in black set her wand on the ground. "Frankly," she said warily, straightening up. "I think the odds are slightly in your favor."
"'S not my fault bein' the biggest an' the strongest," Hagrid shrugged. "I don' even exercise." Hagrid lunged for her, fast for his size, but she spun out of his grasp and rolled between his legs, scrambling to her feet ungracefully. "Yeh're quick, " Hagrid remarked.
"A good thing too," she said, pulling grass from her braid as she eyed the giant warily.
"I don' actually wan' ter hurt yeh, yeh know," Hagrid said, swinging towards her head with his meaty hands. She ducked both punches then jumped nimbly on a rock beside him before launching herself onto his back. Her arms fastened tightly around his neck, and she let her body weight hang.
Hagrid turned and slammed his back against a boulder, sandwiching her forcefully into it. "That's comforting," she grunted, though she maintained her grip.
His large hands pawed helplessly against her much smaller fingers, secured still around his neck, restricting airflow. "I don' have a place in the world, an' Lucius took me in." He slammed his back against another rock, though with significantly less force. His steps began to stagger. "I don' always... have a choice…" He sank to his knees, struggling for air. "In wha' he... asks me... ter do." With those last words, he keeled over, face planting into the grass.
It took some effort for the figure in black to turn Hagrid onto his back, and she checked quickly for his breath, finding him still alive. "Sorry about that, gentle giant," she murmured, standing. "Sleep well."
She picked up her wand, adjusted her mask, and took off at a jog.
Countess Bellatrix surveyed the scene in front of her, taking note of the footsteps in the dust surrounding the ruins of the fortress. "There was a mighty duel," she said, tracking the strides. She followed them up a small staircase, shouting as she ran. "It ranged all over."
"Who won?" Princess Dolores asked, still perched atop her horse, dressed in a pale pink. "How did it end?"
Bellatrix surveyed the crumbling remains of a pillar, picking out of the dust a rusted chain link, wrenched open. Her keen eyes saw a set of footprints running away from this spot, and she pointed along their path. "The loser went this way."
She turned her attention to the princess, calling down from her elevated position on the ruins. "The winner followed the other prints, towards Guilder." Dolores turned her squashed face towards the country's border, squinting her eyes. "Shall we track them both?" Bellatrix asked.
Dolores shook her head. "Only my prince matters now." She urged her horse into a trot, ignoring Bellatrix as she scrambled to regain her own mount. "Clearly, he has been kidnapped by soldiers of Guilder."
The Countess cantered to catch up. "Princess, could this be a trap?" She asked.
"I always think everything is a trap, Bellatrix," Dolores answered, her voice airy. "Which is why I'm still alive."
The figure in black picked her way carefully over a small peak, finding Lucius seated calmly at a table set for two beneath the bows of a large elm tree. His legs were crossed in a stately elegance, and he gazed at the figure in black thoughtfully as she approached, as though he'd been expecting her. The scene would have been rather more idyllic if not for the blade of Lucius' knife, which he held digging into the prince's throat. Ron sat perfectly still, blindfolded and tied up next to Lucius on the ground.
"So," Lucius drawled. "It's down to you and me." The figure in black nodded, taking several slow steps towards them. "If you wish him dead, by all means, keep going." Lucius smiled, pushing the knife so that a bead of blood rolled down Ron's throat.
The figure in black halted, holding up her hands. "Perhaps an arrangement can be reached?"
"There will be no arrangement," the blonde haired man spat.
"Then we are at an impasse."
"I'm afraid so," Lucius agreed, his tone melodic. "If you beat my men then I'm no match for you physically, and you can't compete with my brains."
"That smart, are you?" The figure in black asked, voice hinting of sarcasm.
"Yes," Lucius smiled again, eye malevolent.
"Then I challenge you to a battle of wits," the figure in black exclaimed with a flourish.
"For the prince?" Lucius asked, sounding excited. The figure in black nodded. "To the death?" She nodded again. "Very well," Lucius sheathed his knife, gesturing to the other chair. "I accept."
"Pour the wine," she instructed as she sat, digging around in her pockets. She extracted a small glass vial as Lucius filled two goblets. "This is Iocane Potion, a tasteless and deadly poison." She moved both goblet behind her back, obstructing them from Lucius' view, and emptied the contents of the vial. She replaced the goblets back on the table. "The battle of wits has begun," she grinned. "It ends when you choose which glass is poisoned, and we both drink."
"But it's so easy," Lucius scoffed. "I merely have to figure out if you're the type of person to put the poison into your goblet, or your enemy's?" The figure in black crossed her arms, keeping her face unreadable beneath her mask. Lucius studied her carefully.
"A clever person would put the poison into their own goblet," Lucius reasoned. "Because only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I'm not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you." The figure in black began to fidget, and Lucius pushed on. "But you must have known I was not a great fool; you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."
"Truly you have a dizzying intellect," she replied stoically. "Have you decided then?"
"What is that?" Lucius shouted, pointing over the figure in black's shoulder, eyes wide with surprise.
"Where?" She asked, turning to look. While she was distracted, Lucius switched the goblets. "I didn't see anything," she told him suspiciously.
"Nevermind," he said dismissively. "I've decided. I'll drink from my glass, and you drink from yours." They both held up their goblets in a tentative cheer, then took deep drinks.
"You chose wrong," the figure in black said as they placed their cups back on the table. Lucius began to cackle maniacally.
"You only think so!" He grinned. "I switched them when your back was turned, you fool." The figure in black simply surveyed Lucius impassively as he continued to laugh, until, finally, he fell off his chair, unmoving.
She stepped over the body, stopping only to extract Ron's wand from Lucius' pocket, and knelt in front of Ron, pulling off his blindfold and working on the bonds around his wrists.
"It was your cup that was poisoned?" He asked, eyeing Lucius' prone form.
"They weren't poisoned," she answered. "That was the Draught of Living Death. He'll be asleep for a few days." She stood, pulling Ron up with her. "And I added it to both goblets. I drank an antidote to sleeping potions earlier today."
"Who are you?" Ron asked, but the figure in black ignored him and pulled on his arm.
"Come with me," she said.
He yanked away from her. "Why should I?" She sighed and pulled out both wands, pointing them at him. He grit his teeth and nodded, letting her direct him.
Bellatrix knelt in the grass, fingers running over the bent blades where a large body had recently been laying. "Someone has beaten the giant," she described, disbelief plainly written in her features.
Princess Dolores, still seated upon her horse, sighed deeply. "There will be great suffering in Guilder if he dies."
The figure in black prodded Ron along, driving him through a wild stretch of terrain on the edge of a ravine. "No matter where you take me," Ron warned, watching his steps carefully. "The Countess will find you. There's no greater tracker, and she'll lead the Princess right to me."
"Will your dearest love save you, then?" The figure in black asked scathingly.
"I never said she was my dearest love," Ron answered quietly.
"You do not love your fiance?" She taunted. "How terrible."
"She knows I do not love her."
The figure in black snorted. "Incapable of love, more likely."
Ron glared at her over his shoulder, eyes icy. "I have loved more deeply than a criminal such as yourself could ever dream."
She prodded him in the back with the wands. He walked on.
Bellatrix and Dolores pulled up their mounts, viewing the still set table and prone form of Lucius in shock. "Where is he?" The princess demanded.
Bellatrix pointed. "His footsteps and another's lead off that way."
The princess nodded, and urged her horse into a gallop.
"I know who you are," Ron accused. "You must be Greyback, the leader of the marauding group of miscreants the crown cannot keep under control." He glanced over his shoulder. "Admit it."
"With pride," the figure in black answered, curtsying mockingly. "What can I do for you?"
"You can die slowly," Ron growled, wheeling about to face her. His hands flexed helplessly as she held up the wands.
"Why loose your venom on me?" The figure in black asked, taken aback by his anger.
"You killed my love," Ron's voice broke.
She watched him closely. "I kill a lot of people. Who was this one? Was she rich and spoiled, like your Princess?"
"No, she was a farm maid. Poor," Ron answered, all the fight leaving him. His shoulder collapsed in and he leaned against a craggy boulder, distressed. "Poor and perfect. With eyes like leaves on an autumn breeze." He looked lost in a memory. "Your Snatchers attacked her on her journey to France, and Greyback never takes prisoners."
"I think I remember this farm maid of yours," the figure in black said, and her wand arm lowered slightly. "Five years ago, was it?" Ron nodded. "She died well. No attempts at bribery, or pleading. She simply said 'please.' It was the 'please' that caught my attention."
Ron turned his head away, setting his jaw. The figure in black continued. "I asked her why she needed to live. She said 'true love.' Then she spoke of a man of unwavering loyalty and faithfulness; I can only assume she meant you. Maybe it was a blessing I destroyed her before she found out what you really are."
"And what am I?" Ron challenged, not moving from his position, though his posture swelled.
"Faithful?" She scoffed. "Tell me truly, did you get engaged the same hour? Or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?"
"Do not mock me," Ron hissed. "I died that day."
A distant thundering of horses' hooves interrupted the moment, and the figure in black looked behind her, watching in alarm as a small dust of thunder approached from a great distance.
Ron took advantage of her distraction, taking a step towards her. "You can die too, for all I care." He shoved her over the edge of the ravine.
Caught off guard, the figure in black began to tumble unceremoniously down the steep edge, the echoes of her shouted words trailing behind her, "as… you… wish."
Ron did a double take, staring at the descending figure in complete shock. "As you wish," he whispered to himself, before arriving at the conclusion. "My sweet Hermione, what have I done?"
Eyes alight, he took off down the steep slope, half stumbling and skidding, moving as quickly as he could towards the figure in black, who laid at the bottom in a crumpled heap. He tripped on the treacherous terrain, toppling head over foot the last several metres. Groaning, he forced his body to move, crawling over to the figure in black, her mask long since torn away.
"Hermione," Ron cried happily, pulling her into his arms and cradling her form. He gently smoothed a wayward curl from her face.
"I told you I'd come back for you," she whispered, smiling up at him. "Why didn't you wait for me?"
"Well…" He frowned. "You were dead."
"Death cannot stop true love," Hermione said simply.
"I'll never doubt again," he exclaimed adamantly, cupping her face as though he couldn't get enough.
"There will never be a need." She grabbed a handful of his shirt and tugged, pulling his face down and capturing his lips in a kiss.
Princess Dolores reigned in her horse, staring down at the two people holding hands and racing along the bottom of the ravine. "They are heading straight into the Forbidden Forest."
Bellatrix paled.
A/N again: Random musings on why I changed certain things:
I can't really imagine a world where Hermione realistically out-duels Harry, either with the sword or a wand! In an attempt to stay true to her character, I tried to make her fencing largely strategic and defensive, and for her to win via a clever trick instead of outright dueling prowess.
I also can't really imagine a world where Hagrid is violent by nature, so I changed his backstory from Fezzik's.
And lastly... Lucius really isn't that bright, if we're being honest. If you've never seen the Princess Bride movie, the battle of wits is AMAZING and I cut it down significantly in this fic, because Lucius' character is just too different than Vizzini's. I do HC that Lucius imagines himself to be brighter than he is, and so that's the route I tried to go here.
Also, I couldn't let Hermione actually kill Lucius. It's just too... callous.
Drop a comment and let me know if you liked it!