Chapter 2.
Hermione headed to the cafeteria, shoulders raised and the hair on the back of her neck raised. Her block were all murders or serial killers and didn't eat with the general population. Still, it hardly made her feel at home.
The lack of wands and constant guard weren't enough to calm Hermione either. She felt jumpy walking alongside Lucius Malfoy and other Death Eaters. At the very least, Fenrir Greyback wasn't allowed out of his cell at the same time as others. He had attacked a fellow inmate and was locked down to his cell for 23 hours a day.
Hermione lined up with her dinged up metal tray in the food line. It felt like everything in this Godforsaken place was in greyscale.
"Golden Girl amongst us Death Eaters, huh? Who'd'a thought?" a voice hissed teasingly in Hermione's ear.
Hermione turned around and glowered as she saw Pansy Parkinson.
"God, what are you doing here?" Hermione groaned, "Don't tell me Malfoy is in the same block as me too."
"Nope, they got Draco on the attempted assassination of Dumbledore," Pansy replied, "I'm in here for the murder of Alastair Moody."
"That's right, you were the one behind Mad-Eye," Hermione replied darkly, narrowing her eyes at Pansy, "Its hard to keep up with all you murdering Death Eaters."
"Now, now, you're a murderer too, Granger," Pansy sneered.
"I've been set up," Hermione growled.
"Yeah, me too," Pansy said with a sneering grin.
"Shut up, Parkinson," Hermione snapped, turning back to the cafeteria line. Some undiscernible slop was heaped onto her tray followed by an old goblet of what appeared to be watered down pumpkin juice.
"Don't be so hasty, Granger," Pansy replied, getting her own food deposited in her tray, "You need friends inside. Stick with me and you'll avoid a lot of flack."
Hermione scoffed, "No thanks."
"I'm serious Granger, people don't survive long in here on their own," Pansy warned.
Hermione shook her head, striding off to find a seat on her own. She stood for a while, uncertain as to where to sit. Pansy swept away and sat at a table occupied by younger looking inmates. Pansy looked at her meaningfully.
Hermione turned up her nose. She had fallen quite far being locked up in prison, but she was not about to stoop that low.
Lucius Malfoy swept past, slamming Hermione's tray out of her hands so it fell on the ground, spilling a little down her sweatshirt.
"Great," Hermione muttered through gritted teeth. Lucius had already swept away to a table occupied by older looking Death Eaters who were all hooting with laughter.
Hermione cleaned things up as best as she could before walking back to the lunchline, cutting in front of an old man who protested.
"Excuse me, my food was knocked out of my hands, I need some more," Hermione asked as politely as she could muster.
"Not my problem," the lunch-lady grunted, waving dismissively at Hermione. The laughs from Lucius' table got louder and Hermione squared her shoulders. She strode over to the nearest empty table and sat down, folding her arms. Her stomach was growling but she wasn't about to let on to the Death Eaters around her that she was bothered.
Hermione sat there for the rest of the lunch period, ignoring Pansy's glances her way. Finally, lunchtime was over and Hermione rose to leave. Greg the prison guard came over and nodded at her. Finally.
Fleur dropped three thick books onto the table between them. Hermione looked at the spines curiously.
"Mendolin's Maladies? Erm… Greatest Herbology Finds of the Fifteenth Century? I'm not being funny, Fleur, but I fail to see why you have brought these to help with your case files," Hermione said with a frown. Was Fleur mocking her? Was she going to throw the case? Fleur smiled her cold little smile.
"I figured you would like some reading material while you are stuck here," Fleur replied.
"Well… Thanks," Hermione said awkwardly. She wasn't sure her and Fleur had had a civil moment before.
"So… It doesn't sound like the Aurors have got any further with getting to the bottom of this," Fleur said, frowning with distaste. Hermione's eyebrows shot up. She had hoped it would all get cleared up relatively quickly.
"Fleur, they're transferring Bellatrix Lestrange into my block," Hermione said, her voice raising, "You have to get me out of here."
"Its not like I haven't been trying," Fleur said haughtily, straightening herself in her seat. Hermione frowned. Fleur's ego was going to be the death of her.
"Fleur, this is serious," Hermione hissed. Fleur narrowed her blue eyes dangerously.
"You don't think I know that?" Fleur said, her infamous temper flaring.
"I'm not sure you do," Hermione fumed, "I think this case is just another chance for you to show off and look important, just like the Triwizard Tournament… And look how well that turned out!"
Fleur slapped the table with her hand and let out a string of expletives in French. She stood up abruptly, her table crashing to the ground behind her. She swiftly moved around the table, invading Hermione's personal space and leaning in close to her face. Hermione could smell her expensive perfume and could practically count each one of Fleur's long dark eyelashes.
"You think I am just doing this for show?" Fleur growled. Her azure eyes were smouldering with an anger and intensity that Hermione hadn't seen before. She was suddenly very aware that her hands were bound and she was at the mercy of the stunning blonde. To Hermione's alarm, this thought didn't result in a pang of fear… But a pang of something else. Something deep and warm deep in her abdomen.
"I…" Hermione was lost for words, she was taking in the delicate angles of Fleur's face and her soft pink lips. For someone so beautiful, she could really project an aura of dangerous power when she was furious.
"I am doing everything I can to get you out of here," Fleur said angrily.
"I'm just…" Hermione swallowed heavily, she hated showing vulnerability, especially in front of someone as infuriating as Fleur, "I'm just scared, okay?"
Fleur's face softened and she looked genuinely sorry for a moment. She drew a delicate hand up to cup Hermione's face. Hermione was alarmed at the shiver this produced down her spine.
"Its okay, Hermione," Fleur said in a soft voice, "I promise I am trying everything to get you free again."
Hermione swallowed again, feeling like she was getting lost in Fleur's eyes and in the moment. Before she could process what she was feeling, Fleur drew away again, returning to her side of the table.
"I just can't help but worry about the reasons that someone has set me up like this," Hermione said, exhaling heavily and regaining her train of thought, "Is so someone will pick me off in prison? Is it part of some bigger plan? Are Harry and Ron safe?"
"I don't know," Fleur admitted, shaking her head, "But everyone is working around the clock, Hermione."
She waved her wand, gesturing for the guard to come back. The prison guard came back in and began fussing with Hermione, pulling her out of the chair. Hermione watched as the beautiful vision that was Fleur Delacour-Weasley swept out of the room again without any further conversation.
Hermione lay on her bed, reading Mendolin's Maladies. It actually was a very interesting book. She wondered if Harry and Ron had told Fleur what kind of things she liked to read or if Fleur had picked out the book selection herself.
Hermione sighed and closed the book, lying back on her firm prison cot. She hadn't seen Fleur look as passionate as she had before today.
For years, Hermione had never seen the appeal in Fleur. Sure, she was incredibly beautiful and intelligent and talented… But she always seemed so cold and full of herself. But in the heat of the moment, as Fleur had been close to her, Hermione had suddenly got it. Fleur was incredibly attractive. Hermione couldn't help but wonder how those soft full lips would feel pressed against her own. She idly imagined what it would be like to have Fleur lying in the small prison cot with her. Hermione shook her head, blushing at the thought. She rolled over and faced the wall, thinking back to the horrible reality that was being trapped in Azkaban for an indeterminate amount of time.
Hermione sat in the small meeting room of Azkaban, hands bound, across the table from Fleur. Fleur was watching her intently, in an almost predatory way.
"I might not be able to get you out of 'ere, but I can take your mind off it," Fleur purred. Hermione felt that same shiver down her spine. Fleur's accent was as thick as it had been all those years ago at the Triwizard Tournament.
"H-how would you do that?" Hermione stammered. Her stomach was squirming wildly.
Fleur got up slowly and began to unbutton the blouse she was wearing. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Fleur slowly began to step around the table in her high heels. Hermione couldn't draw her eyes away from the intoxicating way Fleur's body was moving.
"I have some ideas," Fleur smirked, drawing close to Hermione. She slowly removed her blouse and unzipped her skirt, letting it drop to the floor before stepping out of it. Hermione's eyes roamed hungrily over Fleur's underwear clad body. She was toned and surprisingly tanned everywhere. Hermione blushed wondering how Fleur managed to get such an even tan with no tanlines.
"Wh-what about Bill?" Hermione asked, her voice husky.
Fleur straddled her in a fluid motion. Hermione felt herself ache with want. She hated that her hands were bound… She felt an outrageous desire to run her hands over Fleur's body.
"What about 'im?" Fleur smirked. She moved her face closer to Hermione's. Hermione felt her excitement grow. Fleur's perfect lips were so close to hers… so close…
Crash! Crash! Crash!
Hermione awoke with a start, covered in a light sheen of sweat. She blushed darkly, to the roots of her hair, at the inappropriate dream she had been in the midst of.
The prison guards were roaming down the hallway, banging on the bars to wake the inmates for shower time.
Hermione sat up, feeling even more embarrassed at the wetness between her legs.
She had never considered herself as anything other than straight before. But now she thought about it, apart from a brief dalliance with Viktor Krum, she had never really felt much attraction towards anyone. She guessed, on that basis, she couldn't definitively pin down what she was into.
The doors opened and Hermione grabbed her shower things, tensing as she headed out into the stream of inmates heading to the shower block. It was horrible having to constantly watch her back.
Pansy came up beside her, falling into step beside her.
"So, changed your mind about teaming up for survival's sake?" Pansy asked. Hermione shot her a glare.
"I don't team up with murderers," Hermione hissed.
The crowd was thickening up. Something ahead must be blocking the way. Hermione raised her eyebrows.
There was a blinding flash of green light and shouts and screams began to ring out.
"She's got a smuggled wand!" Someone screamed ahead. Alarms began to ring and prison guards hit the scene, stunning and casting petrificus totalus spells on inmates en masse.
Hermione felt her heart in her throat. Was she going to die in Azkaban amongst criminals?
Pansy grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close to the wall as Dementors began to swarm in. Hermione felt a cold hopelessness wash over her and she sank to the floor.
"Still reluctant to team up?" Pansy muttered as the Dementors and prison guards got the scuffle under control.
"Good one, Sheila," a prison guard shouted mockingly, "Hope it was worth killing your mate because now you'll be in for the Dementor's Kiss."
Hermione covered her face with her hands. Pansy patted her on the shoulder. She was being surprisingly comforting.
"Its fine," Pansy said comfortingly, "This happens sometimes. It'll be okay."
Hermione held back tears. She wasn't sure anymore that it was going to be okay.