Summary: Hermione has left the Wizarding World for Muggle France. After two years of living a life without magic, two former Slytherins appear at her doorstep offering their services to be her own personal bodyguards. The past resurfaces and Hermione is reminded of what she truly is.
A/U.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/N: Welcome to the second to the last chapter.
EMBERS
IX
An ice-cold shower was exactly what Hermione needed to clear her thoughts. She still wasn't sure how she felt about Draco's obvious intentions. Well, maybe she liked it a little bit – but no one could blame her for being scared. Her last relationship had been a total train wreck. She didn't know whether or not she was ready to dive into another one.
She pulled on a pair of Seven jeans and an Anne Klein shirt. She was in the process of drying her hair with an Air-Dry charm when the sound of screeching tires resounded from the driveway. Pocketing her wand, Hermione bounded downstairs, anxious to see if Fiona was indeed, just fine. Draco and Blaise were in the sitting room, talking over steaming cups of brewed coffee.
"Where is she?" Hermione asked.
"She hasn't come in yet." Blaise replied.
The doorbell rang. Well that's odd. Hermione thought with a frown. Fiona had her own keys to the house. She never left home without them. As Hermione made her way towards the door, a nervous feeling crept over her. Upon reaching the door, she peered through the peephole. She gasped.
There was no one there.
"Are you alright?" Draco asked coming into the foyer. Blaise followed behind him wearing a guarded expression. Both had their wands drawn.
"There's no one outside."
"But we heard the doorbell." Blaise said in befuddlement.
"Step aside." Draco ordered. Feeling anxious, she did as told. "Ready Blaise?" The dark-haired Slytherin nodded gravely. Hermione went to stand behind them, silently berating herself for leaving her wand in her bedroom. Having gone two years without a wand had made her forget about the most essential material object in her life.
"Diffindo!" Draco hissed. The door splintered into a thousand pieces. Hermione did not know what to expect. But the small box sitting on the doorstep was the last of them.
There was no one else in sight.
The two Aurors exchanged a glance. "Think it's safe?"
"There could be a curse on it." Draco warned. They approached the box with caution. "Specialis Revelio!"
Nothing happened. "Reparo." The splintered pieces transformed into a door once more.
Blaise shrugged, picked it up, and gave it to Hermione. Godiva was written on the cover. It was a box of chocolates. "Secret admirer?" He questioned. It was then that they noticed her name scrawled in a neat penmanship just below the brand. Hermione Granger.
She pulled off the lid.
A note was waiting on top of the rows of dark chocolate. It was short. But it was enough to send her heart careening off her chest.
Dearest Hermione,
I have your Aunt. Come alone or she dies. You have until midnight.
There was an address written beneath it.
"Well that sucks." Blaise noted.
10:00 p.m.
"This is insane." Hermione muttered, more to herself than to her two companions. They were currently speeding through the half-empty road in Draco's McLaren en route to Christophe's cliff-side mansion.
"Do you have any other ideas?" Draco retorted. In the span of fifteen minutes, the three Hogwarts graduates came up with a plan. It involved brooms, invisibility cloaks, and a gun. In Hermione's opinion, it was nothing short of suicidal.
"I'm not the Auror here!" Hermione snapped.
"Enough you two." Blaise reprimanded sternly. "We don't have sufficient time."
They rounded a dark corner and finally came to a halt underneath a shade of trees. They climbed out of the car. Draco popped open the trunk and pulled out the necessary items: two invisibility cloaks, two Firebolts, and a Glock. The latter, Hermione tucked into the waistband of her jeans. Blaise cast a Disillusionment Charm over the vehicle, effectively hiding it from plain sight.
"Ready?" Blaise asked her. Hermione took a deep breath before nodding.
"I can do this."
"Alright." Blaise said with some satisfaction. They boarded their brooms, threw the Invisibility Cloaks over themselves and shot up into the air, leaving Hermione below by herself. Squaring her shoulders, she prepared herself for her long trek towards the mansion.
10:05 p.m.
Hermione was feeling nauseous. She had steered clear from danger for a good two years. Strange how what used to be a regular occurrence in her life could suddenly feel very alien to her. But her days at Hogwarts were long gone. Her exceptional fighting skills during the War had gone dry. To sum it all up, her self-confidence when it came to defending herself was at that moment, kind of low.
And it was all her fucking fault.
As the mansion drew nearer, her heartbeat would triple its' rate. But she sought comfort in the thought that somewhere above her, someone was watching over her. She finally arrived at Christophe Gilles' doorstep. There was a doorbell at the right. She reached out and pressed it. It made no sound. She knocked. The door creaked open by itself.
Hermione kept her hand in her pocket, grasping her wand tightly with sweaty fingers. The hallway was dark. But there was a light at the end of it. She surmised it to be the living room. She crossed the carpeted floor with slow, cautious steps. She could vaguely make out the large paintings adorning the walls, the silver-framed photographs sitting on antique tables…all she could concentrate on was the sound of her beating heart going thud, thud, thud.
She felt as if she was walking towards her death.
And then came the voice, his voice: low, raspy, and ultimately cold. This was no longer Christophe's voice. This was a voice she had never wanted to hear ever again. But there it was – calling out to her, beckoning her to come closer.
"We're in the living room, love."
Hermione stepped into the faded light. Her eyes immediately locked onto the figure lying on the table. It was her aunt. Her feet itched to rush to her side, but she knew that somewhere in the room, evil was watching, waiting to strike. She dared three steps forward. This allowed her to see the steady rise and fall of Fiona's chest. She appeared to be in a deep sleep. Relief swelled within her. She was alive – for now.
Hermione cast a glance around. There was no one there. There were only two windows in the living room. Both were facing her. They were floor-length, clear glass, revealing the pitch black environs. She knew that her two companions were out there somewhere, trying to find a way in without being seen, heard, or worse – caught.
"Expelliarmus."
Hermione felt her wand slip out of her tight grasp and whirl towards the left side of the room. She watched it go with a sense of unrelenting dread. After a heartbeat, a figure emerged from the shadows. She felt herself recoil at the sight of the man that had destroyed her. Murderer. Her eyes narrowed.
"Finally, the lovely Miss Hermione Granger."
He was not as she remembered him to be. He had lost weight. His inky-black hair had grown past his shoulders. There were lines on his face, veins protruding from his arms. His eyes were violent. Hermione stood her ground.
He began to circle Fiona, tracing her neck with the tip of his wand. "She tasted like wine." He licked his lips. Like a carnivore predating on his meat. It was a disgusting sight.
"Leave her be." Hermione hissed.
"You're right." Rowle said with a feral smile. "It is you that I want."
Where the hell are those two? She wondered. She was facing a blood-thirsty Death Eater wandless for crying out loud. Did they really expect her to survive? Her eyes flitted around the room. This proved to be a big mistake.
"Are you looking for someone, sweet?" He asked, pure suspicion lacing his voice. "I told you to come alone." Danger glittered in his eyes. The threat hung in the air precariously.
Hermione shook her head slowly. "I did."
"Even if you didn't," Rowle whispered. "They'll have trouble going through the multitude of jinxes I have placed on every entrance of this house."
And Hermione's heart went FLIP.
10:12 p.m.
"Fuck." Draco swore under his breath. They had done a quick reconnaissance of the entire house. Every single entry was covered by a series of Protection Spells: curses, jinxes, hexes. It would take hours to break them.
"He was expecting us to come." Blaise said.
"One of us should've just went in with her." Draco said, cursing to himself.
"At Fiona's expense?" Blaise asked with a shake of his head. "Rowle would kill her the second he realizes that Hermione did not come alone."
They were hovering ten feet away from the living room windows. They could not go any nearer. They were being repelled by one of the charms on the windows. They could clearly see what was going on inside. Under the safety of their Invisibility Cloaks, however, the two or rather three people inside the living room could not see them at all.
Draco growled as Rowle moved towards Hermione with slow, taunting steps. At that very moment, all Draco wanted to do was get his hands on Thorfinn Rowle's neck, cut off all his air and watch him turn cyanotic.
"There's got to be something else we could do." Blaise said.
"What else is there?" Draco asked. "This is all up to Hermione now."
"Wait. I have an idea."
10:16 p.m.
Something akin to a shooting star shot straight at the window. It was bright yellow and blazing heat. It made no sound as it collided with the Death Eater's Protection Spells. It took exactly five seconds.
But five seconds was all Hermione needed.
Because during those five seconds, Thorfinn Rowle was caught by surprise. He turned to see what had happened and made the biggest mistake of his life.
BANG went Hermione's gun.
Then all was silent.
TBC
A/N: The end is near. A review, perhaps?