Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.
Chapter 6 - The Mystery Employer
Awareness returned to Hermione slowly, and she was surprised to find herself in what appeared to be a well-appointed hotel room. Her memories were a bit hazy, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position and let out a faint whimper as the movement caused her head to pound.
"You'll want to move slowly, for a little while." The voice was feminine, smooth and cool and rather detached, and it came from Hermione's right. "I've been told my Stupefy packs quite a punch, and my employer will be quite cross if you are presented to him in anything less than pristine condition."
Hermione turned her head, even though it hurt to do so, and saw again the familiar-looking blonde woman. "Who are you? Where am I?"
"You may call me Tracey," the woman replied, inclining her head ever so slightly. "As to where you are, the answer isn't nearly as simple, nor is it mine to give. Suffice it to say that you are in a place where your questions will finally be answered."
"I'm a prisoner, then." It wasn't a question, and something about the woman's lack of emotion was disturbing.
"My employer would prefer you to think of yourself as a guest. Circumstances made it necessary for us to ensure your arrival, but from what I understand the choice of whether you stay is entirely yours, once you've met with my employer."
"After what you've done to me? You /kidnapped/ me!" Hermione wasn't sure what bothered her more, the woman's continuing display of cool professionalism or the idea that they thought so little of her they were willing to let her go, as if what she knew was of no consequence.
"You have no proof of that." The woman's words sent a chill down Hermione's spine, and she repressed the urge to shiver. "There is nothing out of place in your home, nothing to indicate anything of the ordinary happened there, and anyone who comes calling will find only a single piece of luggage and some clothing missing, along with yourself. Our people were quite thorough. As to those who were involved, only you and I retain knowledge of what happened, the others have had their memories altered, and I can assure you I left no loose ends when I restructured their new memories."
"There are trace magics," Hermione protested weakly, but she got no further because the woman's lips were curving into a very faint smile that chilled her further.
"Trace magics are easy enough to eliminate, if one knows what to look for. Belive me, Miss Granger, when I say that /I/ know what to look for." The chilly smile faded, and Hermione was almost relieved to see her go back to her former reserved air. "How's your head?"
"Better," Hermione replied, upon realizing that her head was no longer pounding. There was still a dull ache at the base of her neck, but it, too, was starting to fade.
"Good. You'll want to freshen up, I expect." The woman drew her wand and waved it toward a door, which opened to reveal a bathroom. "There's a change of clothes laid out for you, as well. I took the liberty of selecting a few items from your closet."
"My wand?" Hermione asked, half afraid of the answer but needing to know anyway.
"My employer is holding it for you. To guarantee your cooperation to meet with him, I suspect."
Another reference to the mysterious employer. Hermione slid off the bed and paused for a moment to make sure she had her balance before heading for the bathroom, noting as she walked that any alternate exits had been well-secured. Even if she'd had her wand, escape would have been difficult, without it there was no way she was leaving unless they let her. She still didn't believe they'd just let her go, but presently a meeting with the mystery employer seemed preferably to sitting in the 'guest' chambers staring at the wall.
She closed the bathroom door, and was relieved that there was no protest from the woman who seemed to have been appointed the task of watching her. Her clothes felt as though she'd spent three days in them, and frankly she was glad of a chance to wash up a bit and change into something that wasn't so uncomfortably wrinkled. White t-shirt and blue jeans, with a soft blue jumper that Molly Weasley had given her two Christmases ago, and once she was dressed again she felt much better, more like herself.
Upon opening the door, she let out a little squeak and stepped back in surprise at finding Tracey right there on the other side. The woman arched a brow at Hermione's apparent distress, but otherwise there was no reaction. "Much improved," she said, finally stepping back with a nod. "Follow me, please."
"Where?" Even as Hermione spoke, she was following, because her curiosity was too great for her /not/ to.
"My employer is ready to see you now," came the cool reply. "He is not the sort of man one keeps waiting." Her voice was as dispassionate as ever, but Hermione detected a sense of urgency about her, in the pace she kept as she led the way down a hall, and she found herself wondering again about this mystery employer.