Hi y'all! I know it's a pretty late update and I know how frustrating it can be to watch an author update another story, while the one you like doesn't get new chapters. The truth is, my promise still stands; I'll never abandon an unfinished fic. But I fear there won't be another update for Just a gesture for a month. I've got this major, superbig essay to deliver and I must stay away from if I don't want to fail it :P But it's for your sake too, because I would rather have a lot of time to figure out a good chapter, than rush it and post a 2000 word, tacky chapter. I hope you understand me and won't abandon me in return. I WILL BE BACK! Enjoy this chapter (with no cliffhangers as a small favour for my loyal readers).
Inspirational music: Broken wings by Mr. Mister (It actually suits many characters in this chapter)
Chap. 38 Comrades-in-arms
"Oww! It burned me! Oh, no."
And before Hermione's eyes a golden goblet multiplied into three more after she accidentally had touched it. She flinched as a red mark appeared on her wrist, just below the sleeve of a black dress which could have belonged to Bellatrix.
Everything had gone fairly well up until now but she sensed advanced magic in the air inside the Lestrange's vault.
"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron called over his shoulder when… "What the…Oops." He had stumbled over a small heap of galleons which turned into a larger one within a second.
"Don't touch anything! There is a Gemino curse in work here," Griphook informed them and Hermione felt a flicker of nervousness as she remembered how fatal that curse could be.
"Harry, can you locate the horcrux and the sword?" she asked urgently and gathered the long skirt in her left hand to avoid further mistakes. They needed to be quick if they wanted to escape from here, what with an activated alarm making noise enough to wake up a sleeping giant. Harry scanned the area and pointed at the top of a downright mountain of valuables.
"There, just to the left of that shield. There's the sword and a bit higher is the cup of Helga Hufflepuff."
'Right,' Hermione thought briskly and aimed her wand at the objects. "Accio sword and horcrux." The items did not as much as stirred.
Griphook huffed in annoyance and told her, "No spell will work here girl. Did you really think Gringotts would have all these complicated obstacles outside the vaults but none inside?"
"Hey, watch your mouth!" Ron growled at the goblin who rolled his eyes in response. "
Forget it Ron. We need to find a way to get the objects," Hermione said calmly despite the fear that settled in her chest.
"I guess the only solution would be to climb up there and get it by hand," Harry pondered aloud and clenched his teeth. Hermione wanted to tell him no, but he was right. And so, she steeled herself to remain silent as Harry began to make his painful way up the mountain. But no matter how hard he tried to be quick, she saw him wince as he came into contact with coins and the more step he took, the more objects duplicated. As he came near the peak, the sword slid down and landed on the expanding pile on the floor. A deafening clattering echoed through the enormous vault as the content kept growing in numbers.
"Take it! I'll concentrate on the horcrux," Harry bellowed down to his friends and Hermione shared one look with Ron before they dashed towards the sword. But it was as if it rode on an ever-changing wave and Hermione found herself sinking through the space between objects the more she moved. She began to struggle for her life instead of the sword, while objects seared her skin even through the clothes.
"Hermio…" Ron shouted before his voice drowned in the cacophony and Hermione saw a tower of jewels come tumbling over his head. Absentmindedly, she realized they were steadily moving towards the entrance as the vault soon would be filled to the brim.
Harry's black hair floated pasther in the golden sea and he let out through gritted teeth, "I've got it! Try to get out of here." As if she was busy admiring the Lestrange family's heirlooms! But Hermione swallowed her sarcastic retort and began to struggle for freedom. She spotted Ron who had a flushed face, whether from exertion or the warm air, and he seemed to have invented an efficient swimming style with firm strokes. It was futile to try to avoid touching anything now.
At last she reached the front of the wave and rolled down it. The door was there, only a few feet away from the threatening gold. Harry stood before it but Griphook was there too and seemed to argue with him. Then Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine despite the heat as she saw the item in Griphook's hands. "Give it here, Griphook! I need it to defeat the Dark Lord!" Harry screamed but the goblin sneered and suddenly did not look human at all.
"No, Mr Potter. You promised me the sword if I helped you get inside Gringotts. But I never promised I would get you out of here. I will not betray this bank anymore." With that, the goblin ran outside the vault and grabbed the bell which would make the dragon cower instead of sending fire.
"That traitorous little bug!" Ron exclaimed as he reached the other two.
"We need to get out of here," Hermione reminded as she felt coins press into the back of her boots. They leapt through the door and closed it together. As the lock clicked, the dragon raised its ears and stretched the long but chained neck.
"Hide!" Harry yelled when the dragon opened the gape and snarled. Hermione jumped behind a pillar and the boys shared the space behind another.
"They are here! The thieves and intruders are here!" a stranger cried out and at once, not only fire but spells were being shot at them. Hermione cast some spells haphazardly over her shoulder without risking a look at what she should aim at.
Things had gone from bad to worse. Griphook was not going to help them anymore and he had their weapon against the horcruxes. Hermione pressed her back into the cool, slightly damp pillar and panted. She had no desire to go like this; on the verge of destroying Voldemort's few remaining horcruxes, nearly eighteen years old, in battle and deep down below the surface of the earth. Gringotts now seemed more like an intimidatingly big tomb to her and she took a shaky breath. She wanted to go up, up from these pits and reach the daylight. Up…
Suddenly she knew. It was crazy, beyond stupidity. But as the idea formed in her head, she noticed the geniality with it. It was like that time when Fred and George had argued for their plan to get their names into the Goblet of Fire; it was so brilliant because it was so stupid.
By the other pillar, Harry crouched down and threw some spells at the wizards. "What do we do?" he yelled with frantic desperation and Hermione actually graced him with a smile in the midst of chaos.
"Just follow me!" she answered and inched towards the other corner of the pillar. Fewer curses were being cast in this direction and she had perfect view of the raging dragon. Apparently the pale creature had moved so much that the old wounds had reopened and gleaming blood trickled over its scales.
Hermione pitied it for she saw something in its eyes. It was a trapped beast who was supposed to live in the wild. Perhaps it had, before getting captured and transported to England to guard a vault deep down in darkness. How cruel, to not raise a dragon down here from the beginning, and at least spare it from experiencing the sweet taste of freedom and then deny it to ever return to the nature.
The goblins and the dragon tamers had done their best to cripple the magnificent beast, to make it expect pain and torture if it did not behave as they requested. But the most basic instincts and memories were probably still wedged inside the trapped beast and that was why it still fought its bonds, still raged with scaring persistence whenever it got a chance.
The dragon needed freedom as much as Hermione and her friends. To her, the dragon seemed to have many similarities with Scabior. And she was not going to use the dragon selfishly for her purposes like the others had. She would make the dragon and herself benefit mutually from the approaching moment. They would help each other.
Her knees trembled as she prepared to act, although she did trust her gut instinct and her books; dragons were intelligent animals and had strong hearts in more than one way. Maybe that was why Mr Ollivander was so keen of using dragon heartstrings in his wands?
"Relashio!"
When the collar of iron split in two, the dragon stopped trashing and ceased spurting fire, almost as if it was surprised by the odd sound close to its ear. Hermione knew her chance had come and sprinted to a cliff and did not hesitate in front of the ledge before she jumped. She landed perfectly and gripped one of the unnaturally soft horns on the momentarily calm creature.
Something purple soared past her ear and she quickly made herself as flat as possible on the dragon's back. The wall of stone behind her crumbled when innumerous curses hit it and she could not hear Harry and Ron but saw them following in her trail and jump onto the dragon as well. 'Thank Merlin we all have Gryffindor courage,' she thought and then Ron cried out, "Make it go!"
Hermione reluctantly let go with one hand and rolled onto her back. Her body moved in rhythm to the dragon's rapid breaths.
"I'm sorry," she whispered and cast an Incendio at the tail. The response was immediate; Hermione barely had time to secure herself again before the dragon jerked and opened its mouth and roared in pain. But then it seemed to realize nothing was there to restrain it and it unfolded the impressive but tattered wings.
The very small wizards and goblins down below screamed in terror and backed away. Hermione could almost swear she heard a flabbergasted "Merlin's beard!" from the group when the dragon shook its head, turned it up and sniffed the air. Hermione smiled fondly at the creature who now behaved even more like Scabior. But she urged it on in her mind, aware that the shock amongst the enemies would soon wear off.
'Come on. You can do it. You are almost free. Find the freedom.'
A snarl erupted from the animal and it crawled to the vast shaft where the carts travelled on their windling railways. The dragon cautiously stretched out the nose from the small platform that was the entrance to the Lestrange's vault before it bravely lurched to the stone wall and began to climb it with suited claws. Hermione had to use all her strength to not fall off the living vehicle and glanced at Ron and Harry on the other side of the dragon's spine.
"Another story to tell the grandchildren!" Ron smirked and Harry had left the worriedlook behind too, since he beamed and seemed to enjoy every bit of the journey. His black hair waved in the wind created by the dargon's speed and he, as opposite to Hermione, had the ability to easy follow the erratic movements. Hermione knew Harry loved to fly on a broomstick. Maybe that was why he liked this experience so much, too. Tiredness and years disappeared from his face and he actually laughed when the dragon tried the wings and succeeded in keeping itself in the air. The dragon healed Harry from the torture that up until now had haunted him.
But then Hermione glanced up at the ceiling and held her breath. How bad was the dragon yearning for freedom? Quite a lot apparently, because it did not shy away but pushed the hard head into the ceiling and managed to break through. The trio pressed their bodies into the scales when splints rained down on them and soon the dragon was content with the size of the hole.
It crept through it and Hermione gasped when she found herself in Gringotts hall with a large number of gobsmacked goblins. The dragon pressed on however, and flew towards the dome of glass. Hermione feared the dragon, for so long subjected to darkness, would not be able to register the transparent but sharp-edged material. She cast a convenient spell which shattered the dome before the dragon could hurt itself and the fresh air surrounded her.
Diagon Alley rested beneath her in its obsure and depressing state and grey clouds added to the dimness. But Hermione and her companions were safe and had a horcrux.
"What do we do now?" Ron asked the others as the dragon flew over London and oddly enough, the height did not scare Hermione as much as she had expected.
"We'll have to wait and see. We can't steer it, but I think it's going to the north," Harry answered and Hermione clung to the body to keep warm as the wind swirled around her.
"Well, done," she whispered softly into the scales and even patted the horn. Ron was right. This certainly would be something to tell to her grandchildren.
Scabior pressed his aching wrist against his chest and took a ragged breath. A dull thumping in his head remained after the terrible headache and he shivered despite the Firewhiskey flowing in his veins. He felt his face go pale and cold as anguish filled his being.
This was very bad. But he had no choice.
If he did not turn up like Voldemort had requested; he would most likely be hunted until the other followers found him. Voldemort was not one for either forgiveness or generosity. Scabior suspected He would most likely track down every coward who did not show up and make an example of them. Scabior had already pressed his luck one time and had had the fortune of making it out of the Ministry alive. This time however, he did not see himself succeed with that stunt.
He reached for his gloves and began to pull them on. The right one required his teeth, as he feared the left one was still weak after the summoning. Then he slowly stretched his limbs and tried to lose the tension. Since he had no idea what went on in the Dark Lord's ranks at the moment, he wanted to be prepared for everything. If he had to send spells and dodge an assault, he would do so for his own survival.
But in spite of his mind's determination, he experienced a sinking in his stomach. This moment reminded him of the time when he was brought to Azkaban many years ago. Dementors sucked the happiness from him and dark walls enclosed his wild snatcher nature. It was a horrible sensation.
Scabior blinked and began to scan the empty forest surrounding him, eager to find something, anything, that could give him some hope and prove the world was not doomed before the hands of a dark wizard. He had nothing from Hermione in his satchel and her scent on him had faded to the thinnest of veils. But then, he heard a scratching sound above.
He raised his head and aimed his wand immediately at the threat. On a branch up in a tree sat a fluffy robin and moved its tiny claws on the bark. The beak tilted here and there as the restless bird looked everywhere. Scabior saw the beauty of the scene and smirked. 'To hell with it all.'
If he had gone sentimental it did not matter now. All that was important was to survive to the right price and remember the beauty in his life. Especially one beautiful girl. He waved his wand to make the bird go away, because he did not want to scare it later with the bang of his disapparation. The robin chirped and soared away between the trees.
Feeling more at ease with the impending future, Scabior disapparated and landed on a big root in the Forbidden Forest.
The darkness blinded him for a second but then he quickly moved away to the shadow of the nearest tree, keeping his stance low and ready. A throng of people stood in the clearing. Many of them were dressed like him; practical jackets and coats, earth colours, furs and leather. Scabior had seldom seen so many snatchers together and he wondered what was expected of them. Something big was probably going to happen if the Dark Lord had seen fit to gather even the most insignificant followers who did not even carry the Dark Mark.
He began to search for familiar faces in the crowd but it was a difficult task when people kept apparating. A few high Death Eaters strutted around with their masks and combat robes on and growled at the muttering groups.
Very unexpectedly, someone pushed Scabior in his back and sent him tumbling to the ground. Astonished that someone had managed to sneak up behind him, he jumped onto his haunches and pointed his wand at the shadow.
"Look what we've got here. Back from cowering in your hole, rabbit?"
Scabior widened his eyes and stumbled to his feet as swift as he could. Fenrir Greyback grinned at him with blood staining his chin and his arms outstretched in pretend awe. Several werewolves, both women and men, stood behind the alpha and snarled and spitted at Scabior.
'Shit! The whole fucking pack?' Scabior thought with dismay but neither lowered his wand, nor shrunk away. He regretted his decision to pull on the gloves, because now his silver ring was useless.
"Answer me, you piece of shit! Or are you not so tough now when you're alone like an abandoned pup?" Fenrir growled and took a brave step forward.
The reek from the half-human made Scabior nauseous but he forced a heartedly smile and answered with a steady voice, "Why, Greyback. Funny you should call me a piece of shit when you're the one who smell and look like shit."
Contrary to what he had thought would be Greyback's reaction, the man chuckled darkly and showed his yellow and sharp teeth. "Sounds like you're referring to my exit from your pathetic snatcher gang. But do you know, rabbit, that I've been thinking about that for a long time. We've got something to settle and I suggest we do it sooner than later."
Scabior's inner snatcher fidgeted and urged him to get away from the vengeful werewolf. Greyback was known for being able to hold a grudge for long. And as it was not enough with facing the famous werewolf, there was a pack of dogs with him.
Still, Scabior stood his ground. He counted on Voldemort's more important supporters to not allow the werewolves to cause havoc and demolish the moral within the crowd. He heard how the snatchers behind him had gone quiet and imagined they all surveyed the scene with calculating eyes.
Greyback sneered and started to slowly circle Scabior in a very intimidating way but he did not turn his head.
"Admiring my handsome look, are you? I bet you wish you could look like me so some werebitch in your pack would accept to fuck you. Ain't it sad to be so fucking ugly, Greyback?" Scabior taunted but knew he treaded over the line. Greyback would be forced to defend his position in the pack and not let Scabior's insult go. But Merlin strike him down, he would not let a stinking werewolf play with him like an appetizer. Then he would be dead.
Greyback came into focus again and he rolled his massive shoulders and spread his legs to appear bigger and more terrifying.
"What a cocky thing to say, coming from a rabbit who's been gone from the battlefield for months." And then Greyback lost his grin and his bloodshot eyes ran over Scabior until a new gleam appeared in them.
"Do you smell that?" he said loudly to his pack and they began to sniff the air and snigger. Greyback suddenly resembled a kid who had gotten his Christmas present early, or a dog who had found an especially juicy bone, which Scabior found deeply disconcerting.
"There's more than your disgusting scent on you, rabbit. Something that smells sweet and delicious." Scabior could not hide the fear in his features in time and Greyback registered it.
"I would've assumed it was the scent of a bloke if only there was something male in the scent. I've always deemed you a prissy fucker who dreams of getting buggered good, rabbit. But this smell on you is from a woman."
An image of Hermione was conjured in Scabior's mind which distracted him from the present. His lovely treasure lying on her back in Irish grass and bringing his head down to her before she placed soft kisses on his lips.
"What's it to you?" he asked with furrowed brows. Greyback licked his teeth with a partly green tongue and drew nearer.
"You seem tensed, old friend. What's wrong? Don't like to talk 'bout this secret woman? What distinguishes her from your other whores?"
"Greyback, lay off! The Dark Lord will be here any minute," someone from the side shouted with annoyance.
"Can't one 'ave a favorite whore all o' a sudden?" Scabior muttered in an attempt to make Greyback stop seeking the truth.
"You know what, Scabior? This bird seems to have bewitched you completely. And hypnotizing witches intrigue me. I think I'm gonna track her down as soon as I'm finished beating you to a pulp and serving the Dark Lord tonight. The question is," Greyback began and leaned his head towards Scabior's ear, "…should I bite her first and then fuck her, or do it in reverse order? Either way, she's gonna scream and there'll be blood."
Scabior exhaled and could not stop the anger that suddenly exploded inside him and the snatcher nature became responsible for his actions. He even forgot about his wand.
He had the advantage of speed and surprise. Instead of going for Greyback's muscled upper body and the dangerous teeth, he dropped to the ground and kicked him hard on the shins.
The man yelped and lost his balance. His heavy body fell over Scabior and he got an elbow in his temple. But he pulled away from the werewolf and swept his wild eyes quickly over the rest of the werewolves to get a clue what they planned to do. None of them moved forward however, but they followed the scene with great interest and glared at Scabior.
Unfortunately he had misjudged the alpha's ability to recover faster than humans and suddenly he felt large hands encircle his neck from behind and squeeze the air from his airway. Claws dug into his skin and when Scabior frantically raised his hands to free himself, a hard knee hit his spine and made him arch his back in pain and gasp when the hands threw him down into the dirt. Now Greyback had shown his advantages; strength and control.
"Stupid rabbit! You're gonna pay for what you did to me!" Greyback hissed and aimed a kick at Scabior's gut. He choked on a scream but knew he could not afford to curl up like most beaten victims usually did, for that would mean a clearance to Greyback to hit him as much as it pleased him. He needed to get up.
He refrained from whimpering as his neck hurt but then a heavy weight settled on his ribcage and immobilized him on the ground.
"Fuck you!" he grunted to Greyback who had placed his knee on his chest and loomed over his face. 'A little bit closer.'
"This is for the way you treated me." At that, Greyback lifted his enormous and dirty fist and slammed it into Scabior's cheekbone.
Scabior felt half his face go numb but tingle at the same time, although he still considered himself lucky; Greyback had not hit his jaw or nose with this first blow. And he would never get the chance to rearrange Scabior's face. Greyback looked delighted at his work and leant even closer.
"I'm gonna break your bones, rabbit. And when I'm finished with you, I'll run after your pretty cunt. What d'you think about tha…"
Making an impressive effort, coming from a beaten man, Scabior lifted his head and head-butted Greyback in the right place.
The werewolf gasped and fell off him. Scabior got on his knees with the agility of a kneazle and dove for the dazed man with his wand at the ready. Before he reached him however, a non-verbal shield charm appeared between the wrestling men and separated them from each other.
"Enough with this uncivilized behavior! Salazar, you're acting like filthy mudbloods," a tall, masked, obviously hardcore, Death Eater said coolly and stepped out from the crowd with his black robes swirling around his legs.
Scabior panted and grimaced when he swallowed with difficulty. Even so, he considered himself to have done pretty well in a fight against a full-grown werewolf. He was determined to get up faster than Greyback, purely out of principle and touched his tender cheek. Only a thin streak of blood tainted the palm but he could literally feel the bruise swelling.
The significant Death Eater removed his mask and stared him down with ice blue eyes and a pulsating vein in his temple under blond hair. Scabior nodded courteously at Yaxley and saw Greyback do the same in his peripheral vision. Greyback had a red, going on blue, bruising on his forehead and the top of his short nose. He was bleeding as well.
"Now is not the time to settle childish feuds. The Dark Lord has no use of wounded and incapable men!"
Yaxley walked forward and only stopped when he was a few feet away from Scabior. He pursed his mouth in disapproval and hissed so no-one else beside the three of them could hear, "Especially you two are going to have better things to do in a minute. You have been appointed to lead our squads when the Dark Lord commands it. We will enter Hogwarts and take all the traitors and mudblood brats who swarm the Gryffindor House. Are you with us, or are you going to make me randomly pick one of the three Curses to punish you?"
Scabior raised his eyebrows at the revealed plan. Was he back in the game in spite of his rather disgraceful exile which Voldemort himself had announced?
He did not embrace the idea at all. To be a commander would mean he had to be in the front line and was unable to hide among the others. He was expected to use whatever spell required to fulfill the Dark Lord's wish and Scabior had turned reluctant at the thought of hurting and killing helpless children who moreover could be Hermione's friends.
The sad truth was that he could not see a possible way of escaping his bonds. He would have to come up with an idea quickly how he with credibility could spare kids from getting harmed when the wizard army of Voldemort attacked Hogwarts.
Reviews are always welcome! Kiss, kiss.