A/N: sorrysorrysorrysorry (_) i know, it was an inexcusable delay, and i probably have no readers left anyway, and... oh, what the hell.. im so beyond a simple apology:-S but i promise i havent given up on it!
anyway, on with the show!:
The man in the ornate office was
The man in the ornate office was the last in line of one of the Wizarding world's most illustrious families. He was also one of the richest. And, if you read Witch Weekly, the most handsome man this side of the continent. (for the 5th year in a row, it must be noted)
He was also, at the moment, very very still.
A bird hooted outside his window, the sun dipped lower in the sky, Earth rotated around the Sun... yet the man with the gray eyes was seemingly oblivious, as if time had stopped around him.
And in his limp hands lay what seemed to be an innocent marked piece of parchment...
Abigail was humming a ballad out of a famous wizard opera while she walked down the corridor.
She, for one, was quite happy. How could she not be, when her ward was improving by the leaps and bounds, as it seemed? Why, the girl hadn't even wanted sunshine in her room once, and now she wanted to dine in the garden! Simply marvelous! And her matchmaking plans seemed to be working as well. The nurse chuckled contently to herself.
Now, if only she could find one of those blasted elves that worked for Draco!
Speaking of the man, maybe she should invite him to the impromptu picnic. And while she did that, have him sort out the food dilemma as well.
Abby clapped to herself. Problems solved!
Now all that was left was to find the dratted boy.
Draco felt a numb darkness engulf him. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn-
Hermione!
A jolt ran through his spine before he remembered that she was inside the house. With Abigail. Safe.
Besides, it looked old enough. If his memory served him right, this was this unmarked letter left to him amongst the ashes of his book.
If he had wanted to act, it would have happened before now. The letter was probably a hoax, intended to scare Draco & Inc. into moving Hermione to another safehouse that would be easier for him access. Since he must have found it nigh impossible to get through the Malfoy Manor's ancient magic defenses.
Draco exhaled.
But how did the letter get past the barriers? And land on his desk, out of all places, not like the other mail directed to the house?
Harry had to know.
But still Draco made no move.
A faint knock on the office door reached his ears, and a split second later, Abigail waltzed in.
"Oh Draco! I can't find any of your house elves! And we need food, for Hermione! She's waiting for me in the garden, poor thing, and must be wondering why I took so long... "
The man she was talking to looked at her, dazed.
Then, three things registered in his brain.
Hermione. Garden. Alone.
Hermione.
He broke out of his stupor and looked around with wild eyes.
"Hermione! Where's Hermione?" He stood out of his chair and grasped a bemused Abigail by the shoulders. "Abigail, please bloody tell me you did not leave Hermione alone!" The letter fluttered to the ground.
"I- she's in the garden, she wanted a bit of fresh air-" Abby was flabbergasted, Draco was acting weirder than usually. "You can come if you wan-"
But she could finish her sentence, Draco was out of the room and hurtling down the corridors as if his life depended on it.
As if her life depended on it.
Draco was panting, more out of fear than exercise, as he streaked through the lawns.
"Hermione? Hermione!" He paused, maybe he was just overreacting. But what if he wasn't? What if the letter was true? A new wave of panic overrode him and he picked up pace.
"HERMIONE!" He bellowed, scaring a few birds out of their trees. "HERMIONE! HERMIONE WHERE ARE YOU?"
"For blooming sakes please answer, HERMIONE!"
He skidded to a stop.
There was a blanket.
And what seemed to be a muggle wheelchair (Harry's suggestion).
But no bushy haired witch.
Draco went as white as a sheet. And then some.
He sank into the nearby bench and cradled his head in his arms. He heard a sound of crunching gravel and looked up. Hoping, somehow, it was her. But, no, it was that bloody nurse. With a picnic basket. Spotting a lone Draco, she stopped in her tracks.
"Draco? Where's Hermione?" She tentatively asked. Draco looked like had seen a Thestral.
Draco didn't say anything for a moment. Then he looked up... and his gaze chilled Abby to the bone.
"Apparently, Hermione isn't here." Draco's voice was deceptively soft.
"I-I gathered that from her empty chair..." Abigail trailed off, not sure of herself. Or Draco.
"Well, I suppose you can also gather, since you seem to be ever so smart, that had you been doing your job properly, SHE WOULD STILL BE HERE!" Draco lost it. "You bloody incompetent fool!" Draco turned and strode up the path. He had to get to the letter. He had to get to Hermione. Before it was too late. Before-
He turned back to a shaking Abby.
"If I find her hurt in any way, in any way, I will have you personally accounted for it. You are now dismissed. Pack up your belongings. I never want to see your face anywhere near the Malfoy Manor. Do you understand?" Draco informed Abby in a cold, scathing voice.
Abigail flinched as if he had hit her. She didn't understand what had just happened.
She whispered to herself, unconsciously. "Where's Hermione? Where are you dear?"
Draco was running through the Manor, barely breathing, not slowing down unless it was to slip a few odds and ends into the pockets of his cloak. Panic had taken over his body and he was now moving on autopilot. He skidded to a stop in front of the carved wooden doors that led to his office and banged them open. Rushing to the desk, he desperately looked for the bloody piece of parchment. He was throwing things around, ripping through documents, frantically trying to find it, when, wild eyed, he spotted it in the floor.
He read it again, for clues, for anything.
But halfway through the words vanished. And they were replaced with ones that made Draco's heart plummet to the seventh earth.
I have what you seek.
Then, they vanished. Draco didn't stop to think how this could happen. All he cared about was Hermione.
"WHERE IS SHE YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" He screamed to no one in particular.
A new mantra seemed to be taking over his mind.
Hermione, Hermione, Hermione HermioneHermioneHermione
An anguished yell was ripped from his throat as he tried every tracking spell he knew on the parchment. But nothing happened.
Then, something appeared.
The Black Forest. Centaur's Peak. Come watch her scream.
It seemed to have a mocking tone, as if daring Draco to come.
The Black Forest. Wait. He knew Centaur's Peak. it was a part of the forest infamous for its plants- rare ingredients used in Dark Magic.
Without a second thought, Draco Apparated.
Pop! A platinum haired person appeared out of thin air at the edge of the Black Forest. There was a clear patch of ground to his right.
Draco, relying in his instincts, turned to the closing. A piece of paper innocently lay there, between the ivy leaves.
Could this be a clue to Hermione's whereabouts? Or could it be a trap?
He glanced at the weathered paper on the forest floor. Curiosity got the better of him and he picked it up cautiously. His heart thudded. This was Hermione's handwriting! It was dated the 21st of January. A journal entry perhaps? He looked at the beginning.
I solemnly wear I am up to no good.
So that was how she hid it. Draco felt a surge of pride. Smart girl. He read through an anecdote of something that had happened to her at work. Then suddenly, the paragraph cut off, and a more hurried, almost illegible scrawl replaced it.
Every time I close my eyes to wipe away the tears, I see it. I see him. I can smell the blood everywhere…and I can still hear the screams that still haunt me every night before bed. Oh, the screams! My heart shatters inside into a million pieces. My world is now torn apart, and my soul slowly slips into the dark….I don't know who I am, I don't know anymore, and their faces, the faces of the people I couldn't save! I'm trapped in my body, in my mind, he feeds on my fear. I'm slipping away. I'm dying and no one will ever know! No one to save me from myself, to hold me tight and tell me everything will be okay….No one to rub my back when I wake up screaming…oh how I wish to die…how I wish for the nightmares to just end…
Draco crushed the paper. He spun around in anger as his heart constricted from raging emotion. Hermione felt this. She had hurt terribly. She had suffered…
"Who are you? What do you want?" He roared into the darkness of the forest.
A cold laugh rebounded in answer.
Draco stiffened.
A voice suddenly spoke.
"The filthy bint had kept a journal behind my back! I found it... of course I would. Ah, it was amusing to peer into the mind of my little Mudblood slave! She had showed so little emotion when I- played with her, you see."
The man's, Roger's voice was coming out of nowhere. It had a tinge of amusement in it.
Draco gritted his teeth, and a low growl escaped his lips. He crouched down and turned around cautiously, trying to determine where the sound was coming from.
"It looks like you have nothing better to do other than spin around like a house elf. I always thought you were a weak fool. The Malfoy Heir indeed..." It chuckled in amusement. Draco heard spite in that voice, felt coldness wash over him, chilling him to the bone. He randomly thought back to the sickly sweetness of the "old" Roger. If only he had known then what he knew now...
"I am more a man than the likes of you can ever dream of being, you sick bastard!" Draco responded scathingly. "And you should be ashamed of even uttering the noble Malfoy name, lowly beast that you are!"
"It took you four years to work up the courage to ask that Mudblood, and that was only after I took her away. You are nothing but a spineless coward, and yet you stand here assuming you are anywhere near my level of existence! Noble, hah!" The voice suddenly changed, taking on an angry undertone that wasn't there before. "It should have been me lording over the Manor, it should have been me standing on the right hand of Lucius Malfoy, his true son. Not a Mudblood loving, spoiled mummy's boy who couldn't even succeed at the one task given to him by the Dark Lord!"
Draco felt his heartbeat slow down from its furious beating, until it slowly, painfully... stopped...
Shock ran through his body, and for a moment his mind was blank.
Then his whole body went into overdrive.
"What did you just say?" Draco hissed.
Silence filled the clearing. Then-
"Oh, yes, I forgot to mention that, didn't I?" The voice seemed back in control, filling with malice and a newfound amusement. "Well, I must properly introduce myself, I suppose. Can't be accused of ill-manner now. Whatever will my wife think of me if I was? " It was Roger's voice again, all sickly sweet.
A man stepped into the clearing, still half in the shadows. He had dark, lanky brown hair, and a thin tall frame. He had his wand out, and beneath the dark black cloak he was wearing Draco saw the glint of a dagger.
All this and more details registered in Draco's mind before he lifted his gaze to the man's face. Gaunt and pale, with a straight short nose... and suddenly he found himself gazing into what was unmistakably... his father's gray, soulless eyes.
" Hello, Draco-fucking-Malfoy, how do you do? I'm Adonis Lucius Malfoy Hemings, otherwise known as your so very illustrious half brother."
A/N: yeah yeah i know, im uberly late on posting this chapter then i end it with a cliffhanger... i allow u all to kill me, im turning into the fanfic writer i've always hated.
i hope this explains some stuff.
oh, and if anyone has any preferences on ending the story? i already have it in mind but i'd like to hear your opinions, they really do matter.
love and peace!