AN: I shall be changing this story's genre from Romance/Humour to Romance/Drama. Nevertheless, I will still attempt to incorporate the funny. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and/or the characters of the original story created by J.K. Rowling.
Chapter Three: You Will Be Cursed
Hermione's heartbeat raced with terror and it took great strength to prevent her inner emotions from presenting themselves outwardly. At that moment she really wanted to turn tail and flee but Lucius Malfoy's steady gaze held her bound and rooted where she stood. She was even afraid to blink but when his features turned into a sneer, she was grateful because it awarded her the release to look elsewhere.
She turned away from the prisoners to address both Terry Boot and Michael Corner, mentally shaking off the memory of Lucius Malfoy's steady, unsettling gaze. Even though regret and disappointment lay in the back of her mind, she still instructed the Aurors where to carry them. She issued silent prayers for peace of mind but none was forthcoming. Instead, anxiety and fear claimed her for their own and she knew it would be a long time before she was relinquished from their grasp.
Lillian was chattering away in excitement and it annoyed Hermione. Here she was, terrified out of her wits at the prospect of sharing her home with murderers and yet, the girl was going on as though the event was the best thing since the invention of bread. Wasn't she aware of the situation? Didn't she know who these men—and woman—really were? Hermione realised she'd have to give Lillian a stern talking to.
She led the group within the building, guiding them past the immediate church pews and up the flight of stairs on the right hand side of the room to the second floor. It had taken considerable amount of time and energy to manufacture seven additional rooms magically but with the Ministry's help, it had been accomplished. Each room was warded against breakouts, especially when curfew had arrived. Once inside, Hermione had the ability to see what they were doing on a piece of parchment, much like the Marauder's Map.
Arriving on the landing within a small hallway, Hermione turned to find all eyes on her and she cleared her throat nervously. Terry Boot and Michael Corner's eyes widened slightly as they were also familiar with the meaning behind Hermione's ominous throat clearing. They relaxed when she simply gestured to the seven doors: three on the left wall, three on the right and one at the very end of the hallway.
"These will be your rooms," she began. "None of them has any designated owners so you are free to choose whichever you wish."
"But there are eight of us and only seven doors, you stupid wench," responded Yaxley snidely and Terry glared at the man but said nothing.
A slow blush crept along Hermione's cheeks and she nearly dipped her head demurely when she reminded herself of her position. She was head here and reticence just would not do, especially amongst the pack of wolves she'd been given charge of. Deathly afraid of them she may be but to advertise any weakness would be her downfall. So she stiffened her back and lifted her chin to glare at Yaxley as well.
"From here on, you will desist from calling me anything other than Sister Hermione," she said coldly. "You may not respect me as a person as you ought to but you will respect my authority here."
"I only respect one authority, Mudblood," spat Yaxley, "and it certainly isn't you."
Bellatrix, on cue, let loose her annoying cackle.
She smiled, genuinely and sweetly too. "Oh? Well if that is the case then I have no inhibitions about releasing you back to the Ministry where, by tomorrow, they'll sever your useless head from your even more useless body to reunite you with the one authority you respect. So, should you feel disinclined to obey me, Mr. Yaxley, you are more than free to leave. Do you wish to?"
Yaxley stared at her, his eyes glittering with unrestrained hate but he said nothing.
"I thought so," she nodded then turned to address the group at large. "There are only seven rooms because as the Lestrange's are still married, they only have need of one room."
Bellatrix scowled, "You impudent bitch! Who told you I would like to share a room with him?"
Rodolphus glared at his wife, "I'm not too keen on this idea either, Bella. You snore."
For once, Hermione had the chance to witness Bellatrix's hate directed at someone else. Mrs. Lestrange turned on her husband and the both of them got into a heated row. Intimate details about their marriage were suddenly aired before the group and Hermione confessed herself surprised at how normal they seemed as a couple. However, Hermione mused, their animosity towards one another was far too great and even though they were henchmen for evil and Hermione was terrified of Bellatrix, she thought of a plan to help them. After all, this was her initial duty, to save their souls from hate and evil.
Before they'd manage to get too far into their argument, Terry idly placed a full body-bind curse on the two for he was aware that reasoning was beyond them. With another flick of his wand, he levitated their bodies and carried them off to the room at the end of the hall.
"So what about us?" piped up Alecto Carrow, her gaze devious. "Can my brother and I share a room?"
"Absolutely not," Hermione replied instantaneously.
"It is a shame, then, that my wife left me so prematurely," spoke Lucius Malfoy. "We may have had the same wonderful privileges as the Lestrange's." Rabastan Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov barked with laughter, Alecto and Amycus Carrow giggled and Yaxley just went on scowling at Hermione.
When Terry had reemerged from the room, Hermione told the group to choose their rooms. After doing so, she informed them of the times for meals and when was their curfew. She had a brief word with Michael and Terry concerning security measures then, with Lillian skipping behind her, she returned to her office to redesign her plans.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Lucius stood gazing about the room that would be his for the next two years should he be on his best behaviour. It was the barest room he'd ever encountered with a small, plain bed that would only allow him one turn before he fell over onto the floor. There was a bedside table on the right side of the bed, a candled lamp stood unlit upon it. A little desk and chair graced the same wall on which the door was hinged, a wall clock hooked just above the desk; and an atrocious yellow-green, cushioned chair sat near the only pair of single-hung windows in the room.
He scowled at the poly-cotton curtains that accompanied the windows. The curtains were printed with brown-green autumn leaves and the colouring and material had deteriorated with age, leaving it faded and holey. Striding over to the windows, he batted away the curtains and attempted to heave the first window up then the second but found neither would open. Of course, he thought, the Ministry can't have those pesky Death Eaters escaping and creating havoc all over again, can they?
He sat in the cushioned chair and crossed his right leg over his knee, striking a contemplative pose. His thumbs itched to be twiddled; he was already very bored, maybe more so than when he was at Azkaban. At least, by now, he'd have had his gymnasium break—a Muggle prison feature he'd abhorred from the get-go but had come to enjoy with each passing day—then his shower would have ensued and after that, he'd have settled down to his painting. However, he'd been forced to leave his meagre belongings behind to be delivered at a later date. Lucius did not know when.
What he did know, though, was that life had given him a second chance. Despite his unsatisfactory lodging and the unsavoury company he'd be forced to keep, he had been given the ability to make amends wherever they were due, especially concerning Draco. Lucius was a prideful man but he wasn't blind or stubborn in his ways. He was more than aware of the consequences of his past actions and had come to regret the decisions he'd made. He wanted to let his one and only son, soon to be married, to know this and he realised that the Fates had paved the way: through that Mudblood, Hermione Granger.
No, Sister Hermione Granger, he corrected himself in sardonic tones.
Merlin, what a change! And such an outrageous one to boot. A nun. The great irony of the situation failed to escape him. She with the dirtiest of blood and a disgraceful lineage had adopted a lifestyle that required purity and grace. Apparently she'd come to terms with what she was and had tried to fix things. However, there could just never be any salvaging of bad blood. There was only one cure and it was death.
Lucius sighed. Even though he'd come to regret his alliance with Voldemort, the continued existence of creatures like Hermione Granger greatly reminded him of why he'd taken up The Cause. Indeed, he resented her kind and the threat she posed to the Wizarding world. Even now, more and more of the Muggle habits and behaviour were being incorporated into Wizarding daily life. He could vividly remember a time when the very idea of joining forces with Muggles would've been preposterous. However, despite his distaste, he needed to school himself in pretense. This was his chance, after all. The moment she or the Ministry got wind that he was unrepentant, he'd immediately suffer the same fate she'd described to Yaxley.
And Lucius could not have that.
Sometime later, after dozing off in the chair, Lucius heard the sound of a bell ringing outside his door. He lifted his head from the back of the chair in time to see his bedroom door swing open, revealing Hermione Granger in the entranceway.
"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," she said, stepping just inside the room. "It is suppertime. Are you hungry?"
Lucius' gaze flickered to the clock and noted that it was seven thirty. He'd fallen asleep for three hours. Then his gaze returned to meet hers. He remained silent.
She gave him an uncomfortable look. "Mr. Malfoy, I asked if you were—"
"I heard you perfectly the first time, Miss Granger," he interrupted her in cool tones. "Yes, I find myself peckish."
She nodded. "Well then, would you follow me down to the dining hall?"
"Are we not to have our meals within our rooms?"
"No," she replied curtly. "This isn't a hotel. Staff is limited."
Ignoring her question, he stood, waiting on her to turn and lead the way. Moments passed where she simply stared at him and growing tired, he gave her a very pointed look.
"I'd rather you leave first," she said stiffly.
Barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes, he made his way through the door. Her slight cringing away from his presence did not escape him and he smiled to himself. This was good. Her fear pleased him. Regardless of the various Ministry impediments, he still was not a man to be trifled with and the sooner Sister Hermione Granger acknowledged this fact, the better it would be for her in the long run.
Supper was a tense and volatile affair. Baleful gazes were directed her way the entire evening even as the owners stuffed their faces with her mashed potatoes, cooked fish and boiled vegetables. Her first bit of religious education—an evening prayer thanking the Lord for His blessings of food—had been met with strong resistance. After being called a 'dirty Mudblood bitch' for the umpteenth time, she'd relented on her demands. So what if they didn't say grace? The less time spent in their company, the better anyway.
The highlight of her evening had come at the end of their meal and at the expense of one of the prisoners. Yaxley, obviously still peeved with her from earlier, had picked up one of the knives used for cutting up his vegetables and made to stab her with it. He didn't get very far. By the time he'd lifted the knife, the sensors embedded in his arm had kicked in and had served him the equivalent of a Cruciatus curse threefold.
The pain had forced him to the floor. He trashed about wildly, foaming at the mouth and blood running little rivulets from his nose. Lillian screamed. Six of the prisoners had gawped, Hermione noted with a sick turn to her stomach, with unsuppressed glee and Lucius, the seventh, had carried on eating with an indifference that was chilling and much more sickening to behold.
With a wave of her wand and a whispered 'Finite', Hermione took Yaxley out of his misery. By then, Terry Boot and Michael Corner, who'd heard Lillian's scream, had Apparated inside, glaring around the table as though one of the others had been the cause of the mischief. Checking first to make sure that Yaxley was still alive, she then turned and gave the rest of them a steely look.
"I hope you lot have taken a good look this evening," she said coldly. "Mr. Yaxley has served as a perfect example to the consequences of disobedience." Then she quoted, "'if you do not obey the Lord your God and do not carefully follow all his commands and decrees I am giving you today, all these curses will come on you and overtake you: You will be cursed.'"
Their delight was washed away and replaced by stubborn, hateful looks but Bellatrix refused to remain silent.
Standing, her eyes glittering malevolently, she shouted, "Who cares about your stupid lord, scum! Your curses are useless against us! They are nothing compared to what we've got in store for the likes of you!" Bellatrix lifted her hand and pointed her index finger at Hermione. "Crucio!"
Eyes wide, Hermione scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over the prone form of Yaxley. She was presently living her nightmare and, had common sense not flown away, she would have realised that Bellatrix hadn't a wand and couldn't hurt her.
"Crucio!" Bellatrix screamed again even as Terry Boot incapacitated her yet again.
Hermione's skin grew unbearably hot and she felt as though no matter how much she inhaled, she just couldn't get enough oxygen. Darkness crept at the edges of her sight and she was aware that she may faint. Thickly, as though from far away, she heard Lillian screaming, "Sister, are you okay? Sister, what's wrong?" She wanted to scream back, "I'm fine!" but her voice had deserted her as well, so she turned to smile and indicate to Lillian that she was okay.
Grey eyes met hers. Indifferent, soulless, contemptuous and hateful. Lucius Malfoy. Lucius…Lucifer…
Crucio! Crucio! Cruc—
She turned and fled the room.
AN: Darn you MS Word for automatically changing all my 'ises' into 'izes'! I'm Canadian, dammit. Shame on you for underlining 'colour' and 'behaviour' and 'meagre' in red!
Feedback is definitely appreciated and constructive criticism will find a welcome mat placed on my doorstep. Thanks to all who've reviewed the previous chapter, your responses were lovely as ever.