The Revenge of the Lestrange Sisters
The Underground City
Tuesday 2 March 1999
The battle of the Underground City had been long. It was the third day and Draco couldn't believe his eyes. Standing beside his father across the fields, Draco tried to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill across his cheeks. Malfoy men did not cry and he would definitely not be doing it in front of Lucius Malfoy.
However his cheeks did burn and there was a dull, throbbing in his throat that he was having a tough time swallowing. Trying to avert his gaze from the burning shack, Draco swallowed thickly. The battle had probably been the bloodiest he'd ever seen. It had officially stopped two hours ago in the early morning. The sun was cresting the horizon.
Many people on the Light side had been brutally beaten. However they did land a few good blows upon the other side; his cousin's husband was an example. Yet currently many of the Death Eaters were raping some of the young witches that were being dragged across the ground. Draco turned away.
"Are you ready to leave?" Draco asked his father calmly.
Lucius turned towards Draco, his face looking sickly. "They're monsters."
This admittance caught Draco off guard. "Father?" He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"But we're just as bad," he continued not giving his son an answer.
"Father, we should leave," Draco said softly tugging on his father's sleeve.
Lucius gave his son a tight nod. They turned around to disapparate but both were startled back. Arcturus stood behind them. Blood had been splattered across his face, his lip was deeply bruised and his curly hair stood on end. His Death Eater uniform had been ripped in a few places. But other than that, Arcturus did not look that wounded.
"Uncle Lucius, may I speak with Draco before you both leave?" Arcturus' voice was raspy and as Draco peered at his older cousin, he could see that the skin on the other man's neck was singed and red; some of the skin was falling off in ashen flakes.
Draco looked at Lucius. "Go home to Mother. I'll be there soon." Lucius made a move to refuse but Draco gave him a firm nod.
With that, Lucius turned on the spot leaving his only son and only nephew in the grassy knoll. Arcturus' eyes focused in on his cousin. Draco took a step back.
"I've done all this for us," Arcturus stated, gesturing towards the burning shack and the women and children screaming.
"For us?" Draco questioned. "You think you've done this for us?" His voice raised an octave.
"For our kind," Arcturus clarified.
"I know what you mean, Arcturus. You're deranged. You think this is a good thing? Murdering countless of people; destroying our family with your indiscretions."
"My indiscretions?" Arcturus sputtered. "You have some nerve. I see how you look at Hermione. You practically fawn over her. You act like a wounded puppy when she is angered with you."
"Well your obsession with Adhara knows no bounds." Draco spat back. "However, I'm starting to doubt your love for her – allowing her to marry Dolohov." Draco's lips turned up into a smirk. This felt good; for once he had the power in a situation. He hadn't felt this good since he was a first year causing chaos.
Arcturus clenched his fists at his side, obviously trying to get his violent emotions under control. "Draco, let me explain one thing to you. I haven't come here to argue about my infatuations or yours. But what if I said that you could have Hermione. That my mother wouldn't marry her off to Theodore."
Draco's jaw clenched. "Go on."
"I'm taking over, Draco. And when I do, you should know what side to be on." Arcturus flashed a grin before walking down the hill towards the violence and smoke. Draco would have to let Harry know about this.
Dolohov Château
Tuesday 2 March 1999
It was late in the afternoon when Adhara nearly dropped her egg. Pierre slammed open the door to the dungeons before wailing.
"Adhara!" Pierre ran his hands through his hair. His clothes looked rumpled as he rushed over to her. "Antonin's back from that raid! He's really hurt."
Adhara froze for a minute before going into action. Placing the egg back in its plush pillow, Adhara took Tanith and placed her on the egg as well.
"Stay." She hissed at the snake. Then rushing over to a cabinet, Adhara grabbed a beaded medical bag and rushed after Pierre who was already at the top of the stairs. "Where is he?"
"In your chambers," Pierre answered.
Despite her swollen pregnant belly, Adhara sped-walked alongside Pierre to the room she shared with her husband. Pierre pushed open the bedroom door and let Adhara sweep into the room.
Adhara gasped before heading over to her husband's bedside. The skin on his forehead had been split open, which led the blood to flow freely into his eyes. The liquid was crusted now. His nose had been broken savagely. Besides that burn marks, scrapes, and bruises marred his fair skin. His dark curls were plastered against his skull and face as a fever had made him sweat.
And that was just the parts of his body she could see.
"Pierre, get the basin from the bathroom and fill it with water." Adhara ordered. As Pierre dashed off to the connecting bathroom, she called, "Get a sponge as well."
Adhara sat down on the bed beside her husband.
"He took a few hard hits," a voice said from the corner of the room.
Adhara looked over towards a man sitting in the wooden armchair. Thorfinn Rowle sat with his hands in his lap as he spoke. His face was bloodied up as well, but he didn't look nearly as beat up as Antonin did.
"Did you bring him here?" Adhara responded as she looked in her beaded medical bag for Blood Replenishing Potion. She plucked the stopper from the slender glass bottle and tipped the liquid into Antonin's mouth. She hoped that despite his unconscious body, he would eventually swallow the solution. The slow movement of his Adam's apple made her feel slightly better.
"Yes, I would have brought him sooner but your brother ordered me not to," the brutish blond man said. His heavy brow scrunched up in thought. "Before you ask, I have no idea why he gave that order."
"Perhaps he didn't think it was this bad," Pierre added as he brought in a steaming basin full of water. A yellow bathing sponge floated atop it. He placed it on the bedside table before picking up the sponge, wringing it out and handing it to the witch.
"Well just look at all this blood, don't you think that it would be severe?" Adhara asked more to herself than the other two men. As she wiped the dry blood from her husband's pale face, she could see a blush rise to his cheeks as the blood began to circulate through his system. She carefully cleaned off his crushed nose before placing the sponge in the bowl. Adhara watched with a heavy heart as the water turned a bloody colour.
"You may want to heal his forehead. That was from a nasty blast from the Weasley clan," Thorfinn grumbled from his spot across the room.
Digging through her bag, Adhara fished out a small flask of essence of dittany. She pulled out the stopper and gently applied it to the sponge. After, the witch smoothed it over Antonin's forehead. This caused him to stir. Dittany usually burned slightly when poured into a serious wound.
"Antonin," Adhara whispered as she smoothed back her husband's hair from his forehead. The skin knitted itself back together. "Antonin, wake up. You're home now."
The Dark wizard's eyes fluttered open before finally resting on his wife.
Adhara sighed in relief. "You frightened me, Antonin Markus Dolohov. Don't ever do that again." She passed Pierre the sponge to stick in the basin.
"She's right brother! You really scared me. Thorfinn had to levitate you all the way up the stairs," Pierre added.
With that cue, Thorfinn pushed himself out of the chair to hover beside Adhara and Pierre. He slapped a hand down on Antonin's chest, causing the wounded wizard to wheeze in pain. "Merlin's beard, Thorfinn get your overly large hand away from me." His voice sounded nasally.
Thorfinn chuckled. "At least you're back to your rude, arrogant self."
Adhara rolled her eyes. "Antonin, my Lord, what happened?" She dug in her medical bag again to pull out another flask of Blood Replenishing Potion. She took out the stopper and placed it in his moving hands. "Drink this, my darling. I'll heal your nose after your blood is stable."
Antonin tried sniffing it, but realized the possibility of smelling it was slim. Then he drowned the bottle in one gulp. "That's awful," he gagged.
"But it helps," Adhara muttered. "Why didn't my brother let you leave?"
"How would I know? I was the one passed out." Antonin paused to think. "When did I pass out?"
"Three, four hours ago; I believe," Thorfinn answered.
Adhara got up from her spot, but Antonin grabbed her left wrist. "My Lady?"
The witch looked at her husband inquisitively. "Yes?"
"The child and you; you both are well?" Antonin inquired as Pierre cleaned off some blood from his revealing chest.
Adhara placed a hand upon her stomach before giving a small smile. "Of course we would be. Why wouldn't we?"
Antonin gave a sigh. "I'm just not feeling well right now. I believe…"
Thorfinn took Adhara's place, allowing the witch to sit on his lap. Adhara did not understand why she was so comfortable with Thorfinn Rowle; a contributing factor was probably the fact that he was her husband's closest friend and confidant. "What is it, mate?" Thorfinn asked.
Pierre brushed back Antonin's hair. "Tell us," he said softly.
"Something isn't right in England," Antonin stated.
"I don't understand. The Underground City is in Ireland. That's where the attack took place, correct?"
Antonin nodded. "It's England. Inner turmoil. I've been noticing," Antonin paused to allow Pierre to clean off his throat from the charred flesh. "At the meetings, everyone is tense. Tenser than usual."
"I know what he means. It's hard to explain, Lady Dolohov," Thorfinn nodded.
"I don't under. Do you think people are rebelling?" Pierre asked.
"Don't be stupid," Thorfinn paused.
Adhara didn't understand either. If something was afoot in England it could radiate to the mainland of Europe. If something hit France, her family would be targeted first. She just needed one more month to give birth. Would the Old Gods allow that? Adhara didn't know but something didn't feel right. Her husband was keeping something from her. He must have learned something had occurred within the inner circle, something that both Thorfinn and Pierre overlooked.
Adhara stood up abruptly. "Thorfinn, Pierre, please leave. I would like to discuss something with my husband." The witch's voice was stern and the other men could tell that this was a moment for the Lady and Lord of the House. Shuffling out of the room, Adhara magically locked the door behind them. Her glare fell upon her husband. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Adhara please," Antonin propped himself up on his elbows. "This isn't the time for you to get all intuitive about something that is way beyond your realm of comprehending."
The witch raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Antonin, do I have to remind you whose daughter I am? I'll get what I want out of you no matter which way. Do you want me to reset the cartilage in your nose?"
Antonin glared at his wife. The two caught in a staring contest. He folded. "Listen," he sighed. "What if I said that it would be better for you and the child, if you didn't know about it?"
"And what if I said that you can sleep in the dungeon tonight?" Adhara smirked.
"Alright, alright." Antonin grinned. "You win. I don't know how to tell you this, but I believe that the Dark Lord is becoming paranoid."
"Paranoid?"
"He doesn't trust any of us. The only person he remotely confides in is his snake and Potter. But I'm not quite sure why. Just last year, the two of them were enemies. They couldn't even stomach looking at each other without things getting out of hand. I think Potter is filling the Dark Lord's head with untruths."
Adhara crawled into the other side of the bed to stroke Antonin's chest. "You think Potter is planning something?"
"I'm not sure it's Potter at all."
"Antonin, you're making no sense."
"I know because this entire situation didn't make any sense. Your brother led the assault on the Underground City. He ordered the attacks, the Dark Lord just made sure we were there to back Arcturus and the Snatchers up. But the Snatchers seemed like they were playing both sides of the field. For instance, my head injury was from them."
"No it wasn't. Thorfinn said a Weasley did it."
"It wasn't one of them. I know the perpetrator had red hair. But it was definitely a Snatcher, a werewolf."
Adhara's hand froze upon her husband's chest. She was vaguely aware of their child fluttering around within her. But her thoughts were elsewhere. If Antonin was alluding to the fact that Arcturus had led the assault and that he controlled the Snatchers …there was only one Snatcher Adhara knew that could have done this. Only one with red hair: Josef Greyback.
Malfoy Manor
Wednesday 3 March 1999
Hermione stormed through the hallways of Malfoy Manor – a dark and murderous look ravaged her face intensely. From a short distance, Harry and Draco moved their long legs to keep up with her fast, short steps.
"Hermione, wait! You're over reacting. You haven't eaten your breakfast," Draco called as Harry looked desperately back and forth between the blond and Hermione's retreating form. "You don't want to do this."
"Draco Lucius Malfoy, do not dare tell me what to do," Hermione whispered as she hurried towards the dining hall on the first floor.
Harry and Draco both tried to grab her before she waltzed angrily in to the hall. Unfortunately they did not grab her in time. Throwing open the huge double doors, Hermione barged in. She could have sworn that she felt her own chaotic magic prickling her skin.
It wasn't a shock that the only people in the hall were her mother, father, and brother. But also her uncle, Rabastan, hovered by a pillar at the far end of the hall. Hermione's whiskey-coloured eyes flicked back and forth from her father to her mother, who was embracing Arcturus in a fierce grip.
Hermione stomped over to her brother, grabbed him by his waistcoat and yanked. Caught off guard, Arcturus fumbled out of their mother's embrace. The youngest Lestrange sister shoved him in the chest hard.
"You… you foul bastard," Hermione hissed. "I can't believe you would do that to unarmed civilians!" She gave another hard nudge but Arcturus didn't budge. Instead he grabbed on to Hermione's wrist and pulled his youngest sister to him.
Bellatrix looked startled at her children, her eyes wide at what she was witnessing. Then confusion settled upon her brow. "Aquila, you should be proud that your brother has proved himself amongst the Dark Lord's ranks."
Rodolphus advanced to stand between his youngest child and his wife. He knew what would happen. Bellatrix and Hermione would definitely end up in a violent tussle. Raising his hands, he voiced his concerns. "Now, my loves, don't do anything too rash. Hermione is just upset. You understand, Bellatrix, that she is very sympathetic towards the mudbloods' cause."
Hermione's angry glare swiveled on her father. "Mudblood! I would rather be a mudblood then be a Lestrange at this point! Who cares about your inane blood purity ways!" She yanked herself out of Arcturus' grip in order to back up away from him. "And you Arcturus; I know what you did to Ron. You tortured him during his interrogation. Practically murdered him right there at the Ministry, didn't you?"
Arcturus, who had suddenly started pacing wildly, looked over at Hermione with a wild look on his face. "And I would do it again if I could. He was useless, a proper idiot if you ask me. He wasn't worthy of your love!"
Hermione charged at her brother and punched him swiftly in the jaw. After a moment of shock, Arcturus made a movement to reciprocate but was held back by Rabastan.
"Aquila!" Bellatrix shrieked. "We did not raise you to act like a Muggle heathen."
"You did not raise me, Mother!" She then made a movement to turn around but a sudden hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Hermione," Rodolphus said calmly. "I understand your resentment," He looked back to see Rabastan trying to keep both Bellatrix and Arcturus away from Hermione. Rodolphus turned back around. "We should have taught you the old ways. Don't speak," he said when the witch made a motion to say something. "You're emotionally compromised. In the last year a lot of things have changed. Perhaps you need some time away."
Hermione's face fell. In a moment she felt like a child again – like the time Aunt Narcissa found Hermione's little hands in her makeup without permission. "You're… you're sending me away. But…"
"Hermione, why don't you go visit your sister in France? It will be like a little holiday," Rodolphus started leading her out of the dining hall.
Hermione swallowed thickly. She wouldn't really mind going to see her sister. But that would mean that she was away from her home – the Malfoy Manor. She would be away from headquarters. She wouldn't see the Dark Lord… or Arcturus… or her mother. It would be like a holiday. A slow smile slid on her face as she gave a tight nod. She looked at the boys who were standing in the doorway; shock was evident on their faces. "I suppose that would be a good idea."
Ministry of Magic
Saturday 20 March 1999
Arcturus nearly wanted to slam his head against his desk. Hearing his best friend go on and on about the latest snatch was driving him insane. He didn't understand why or what could have caused it, but there was a migraine settling over his temples and radiating from his crown to his jaw. Not even sleep had helped the issue. But listening to his friend's English slang was sending him nutty.
"Scabior! Please, just shut up!" Arcturus growled.
Scabior looked momentarily befuddled. "Have you been listening? We need to figure out a way!"
"What are you talking about?" Arcturus was equally confused. He didn't understand one thing that was coming out of the werewolf's mouth. And now the pain was tickling his shoulders and spine.
"When we take over France, you ape! We need to find a way to get Adhara out without being suspicious. The moment her husband suspects something is the moment he runs off to the Dark Lord," Scabior threw the other wizard an exasperated expression.
Realization dawned on him. Scabior hadn't been talking about snatching at all. He was talking about Adhara. His teeth gritted harshly before he spoke. "You're right, you dingo," Arcturus mocked. "I do believe we should get her out."
"When does she give birth?"
"Sometime next month, I believe. I haven't spoken to her in weeks," Arcturus admitted.
"Why's that?" Scabior shot him a curious glance.
"After the whole Hermione fiasco back home, Adhara and Antonin were the ones to retrieve her. She was livid with Father. Antonin blamed her anger on her pregnancy hormones. But I know she's been dying to speak her mind for months. She nearly tackled our mother," Arcturus scoffed.
"Adhara attacked Bellatrix?" Scabior breathed, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Nearly decked her in the face. Can you imagine tiny, pregnant Adhara taking a punch out on my petite mother? It was almost hilarious. She argued with Mum for being tactless with Hermione. Luckily, Aunt Narcissa rushed in to save the day."
"She's been doing that a lot lately," the werewolf commented.
Arcturus nodded. "Regardless, Hermione's staying at the Dolohov Château. If she's still there by July, we'll have to get her out as well. That's way too suspicious."
Scabior looked thoughtful for a moment. "I could lead an assault. Have the Pack pretend to kidnap Hermione and Adhara."
Before Arcturus could respond, there was a soft knock on the door.
"Come in," Arcturus said. The door to Arcturus' office creaked open and Draco Malfoy appeared. "Ah, Cousin Draco, what brings you into my domain?" The blond boy took in Arcturus' office. The wizard was sitting behind his desk with his hands clasped together. His grey eyes shifted to Scabior, taking in that the werewolf was lounging on the loveseat that was against the far wall. "You know Scabior Greyback," Arcturus added. "A friend of the family. He's Fenrir's eldest son and the next in line to become Alpha."
Draco gave a tight nod and swallowed thickly.
Arcturus watched as his cousin vaguely acknowledged the werewolf.
"We were just discussing how to get your precious Hermione and the sweet Adhara out of the Dolohov Château," Scabior started.
Draco's eyebrows raised a fraction of millimeter. "Really? Pray tell?"
Arcturus gave a quick smirk before standing up from his desk chair. "Close the door and we'll tell you everything."
Malfoy Manor
Saturday 20 March 1999
"They're planning to attack on your birthday," Draco whispered. He leaned his head against Harry's shoulder, his body seeking warmth. He tentatively grasped on to Harry's hand.
"Well, I guess we'll have to speed up the process," Harry whispered back, squeezing the other boy's hand in acknowledgement.
"But how? We need to get Hermione back," Draco whined.
Despite the fact that they were whispering in the dank corners of the cellar, their voices carried. Yet neither Harry nor Draco was worried about being caught down here. They were supposed to be practicing and they were until Harry pulled Draco into a remorseful kiss. Draco was still distraught about Hermione being miles away from them.
Harry moved his free arm to push Draco's hair out of his eyes. "We'll get her. Don't worry. But she's safer with Adhara as of right now. I'll be writing to Adhara soon. She and I are preparing for her birth." Draco gave Harry the strangest look. "What?"
"You're helping her give birth?"
"In spirit, I will be."
Author's Notes: I'm very sorry for the delay. It's the week before finals and I have so much to do. I'll be also uploading two other chapters after this.
Please review. I would love feedback.
-Rosie