Chapter Eleven: The Noose
The remnants of the buckets filled with porridge had just been finished when the children backed up against the wall to watch it magically refill. It was a curious thing, suddenly having as much food (if this nasty, clumpy liquid could be considered food) as they could possibly want to eat.
Hugo hadn't even been there as long as some of the others and even he had become used to the aching pangs of hunger. At first the man had starved them, feeding them every so often as if it were an afterthought – a chore. But now, the buckets were always there, always refilling whenever the children managed to finish it off.
Hugo vaguely recalled reading about transport charms, where items from one location could be conjured into another location by a simple spell. It was the same charm used at Hogwarts, the book had said. Food prepared in the kitchens would be placed on a table and transport charms would take the food to the Great Hall, where everyone had their meals. Or something like that. Hugo assumed there were buckets upstairs somewhere with porridge in them.
But that didn't explain why they were being fed all of a sudden.
The blonde little girl said it was because they needed to have strength for what was to come and the man realized that. She refused to eat more than what was necessary, refused to take anything more than what was needed to survive, to stop her from passing out.
Hugo didn't know if she was right or wrong, or if he should trust her with this. He honestly tried not to eat as much as the other kids and in part he succeeded. But Hugo was a growing boy and he did need to eat. He couldn't control his hunger as well as the girl could.
But it seemed that blondie knew he was trying and smiled at him every so often for his efforts. He liked that. He felt as if together, he and the strange girl could find a way to get past all of this and escape from this place. She was wise and he had done a lot of reading. They could probably manage to do something. Anything would suffice at this point.
But that anything didn't come and when Hugo realized this, he thought it never would.
For all Hugo was worth, he hadn't expected what had come next. Well, alright. He had subconsciously been dreading it all along. He'd even consciously though it, had even voiced it out loud to the others, just as they'd voiced it out loud to him.
But somehow, it didn't actually register as a reality in his mind. Hadn't occurred to him that something like this could actually happen. He was a little boy, after all, and these things weren't really something that were supposed to occur in their minds. They were too sweet and innocent for such things. Bruises and discomfort were nothing. Bad food and lack of hygiene were also bearable. But there had always been time to prepare for everything else.
There had always been time thus far to plan ahead and make sure it would all be alright.
Time for everything. There was lots of time.
There was no time! Not anymore!
At first, it didn't really register with Hugo. At first, he really had no clue which direction the events were going to unceremoniously turn to. He hadn't been prepared for it, any of it. None of the other children had been either. Hugo just wished he'd seen it coming sooner.
But this lack of awareness didn't stop him or any of the others from being scared, not in the least! It didn't stop them from letting out a scream or two, or shuddering. Rather than being the brave Gryffindor his mother was and no doubt wanted him to be too, he cowered against the furthest wall. Hugo kind of even felt ashamed of his behaviour, too.
He couldn't help it. He was just afraid. It made him sad that he couldn't be brave, not for him or anyone else. He was sad that he was nothing like his mum or dad, nothing like uncle Harry or his children. They were all very brave if the stories were anything to go by and Hugo would never be anything like them. He would never be like the characters of the stories he always read. He would just be the frightful little boy for the rest of his short life.
But there was nothing Hugo could do about this. So he cowered.
The man walked in and stalked towards them. Hugo could see the man was a little bit crazier looking than usual. His eyes were wide, bright, and his pupils too dilated to be normal. His cheeks were flushed a deep red and his clothes were in a disarray. Hugo thought that his clothes looked a little damp with sweat and a little dirty too. Hugo didn't know if it was dirt or blood. Perhaps both...
Despite abysmal his appearance, Hugo had never seen the man look so happy. It was this fact more than anything that scared the living daylights out of Hugo.
The man finally reached as close to them as possible and stopped his prowl. Their breaths stopped and Hugo thought that he would actually faint from the pressure. It seemed as if the man was attempting to remember what he was doing there, standing in front of the children he had captured. He looked a fright, looked as if he would crush them without thinking twice.
Eventually, the man shook his head and came to his senses. He looked down at the children as if just realizing where he was and who he was staring down at.
Hugo shivered.
The man suddenly lurched forward and grabbed the black haired boy by the hair. The little boy had been unfortunate enough to be the closest to the man. The man had grabbed him so fast that the other children had no idea what was going on, not even the boy himself. He had already been painfully dragged halfway to the door before he had even thought to scream.
And the scream had been piercing.
Before they could even flinch, the man had slammed the door behind him, trapping the rest of them once again in the desolate room. They could hear the boy struggling and yelling as the man forced him up the steep stairs by the hair.
Hugo felt a pinch of regret – sorry that he hadn't reacted soon enough to do anything to help the boy. But that feeling was swamped by the feeling of fear he felt for the boy, instead... Sorry that he couldn't switch places with him. Sorrier that he really didn't want to in the first place.
Soon they heard the door to the basement stairs slam back into place and the body of the now convulsing boy was placed directly above them, just a few wooden floorboards separating them from their friend.
They heard the man pacing, going to and fro somewhere, and a door somewhere far off was opened. A couple of pairs of feet followed the man back to where the little boy was crouched. All of the children stared up at the ceiling where they could see the bottoms of three pairs of shoes and a pair of scared little eyes staring down at them through the cracks in the floorboards.
Hugo's breath hitched. He wanted to yell out to the boy to be brave, wanted to shout to the boy if only to encourage him just a little. He wanted to do something, anything. But anything that would've left his mouth would've all been lies and Hugo was too afraid to do anything anyways.
"What shall we do this time?" a voice drifted down. "Perhaps another attempt just to be sure that it doesn't work?" It was someone other than the crazy man. It was a woman, Hugo decided. A very gravelly sounding woman.
"Hmm..." they heard the man quietly contemplate. "I don't know."
A deeper voice made up their mind. "This one's disposable, boss. What, with your new prospect lined up and all."
The children became seriously scared at that point. Disposable? What did they mean disposable? What were they going to do to the boy? It seemed as if the boy was even more scared than they were – and he had every right to be, Hugo realized – as he stared down at them, his eyes moving from left to right. No sound escaped his mouth, but Hugo knew. The boy was frightened and his heart was pounding just as fast as Hugo's was, if not faster.
"I suppose you're right," they heard the man finally assent.
And then there were voices.
Hugo didn't know what they were saying or what was happening, really. He knew they were doing some kind of magic, but he certainly didn't know what kind. It sounded nothing like the spells that he'd heard his mother and Manny use, wasn't like the runes his mother had shown him, and he'd definitely read nothing about this kind of thing. It was just...different.
Different and wrong. Different, because Hugo couldn't understand any of it. Wrong because although they couldn't hear the boy screaming they could see him writhing above them, could see his horrified and pained expression. Hugo knew the boy was in great, great pain. What he didn't know was if the evil people had cast a silencing charm on him or if he was in too much pain to say anything.
Hugo had never even heard of a pain like that and was instantly scared.
"They're doing it," the blonde girl whispered in his ear. He stared over at her immediately. Her eyes were fixated above, staring at the boy with morbid fascination. Hugo felt a little sick at her expression. Why wasn't she thinking of a way out for the boy? "They're taking his magic. It's begun. We can't do anything about it."
Hugo realized she was right, but that didn't stop him from staring up and watching. He had to know what to prepare himself for, that was his reason. But it was more than that. He wanted to...wanted to somehow help the boy, make it easier for him. This was all he could do. He could watch and so he did. He just hoped it was enough.
Whether or not it was enough, Hugo would never know, because the boy had stopped moving and the people had stopped muttering and chanting above them. Hugo was glad that the boy wasn't suffering anymore. That had had to hurt, surely. And when the evil people brought the boy back down here, Hugo would be the first to help him feel better, that was for sure. He would apologize and rub his legs and...
Something wet spattered onto Hugo's forehead.
At first, Hugo didn't understand what was happening. He just wiped at his forehead impatiently as he stared up, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the boy to be moved. But nothing did. The children only stared at him.
And then another drop fell... then another, and another, until several children were spattered with the substance. Hugo thought that the ceiling was leaking and their living conditions were going to take another hit downwards until he looked, really looked.
Then he screamed.
He stared at his hands, the other spattered children, then to the ceiling and back again. Yes, the ceiling was leaking, and yes their living conditions were about to get a lot worse. But it was not filthy water that Hugo should be worried about. No, it was blood. Blood! Blood. Hugo wished he hadn't looked up all of a sudden, wished he hadn't ever thought of such a thing, because all that looked back were a pair of open and very dead eyes.
And then there were seven.
All that could be heard for hours from the little dungeon were sobs.
The children were shell shocked to say the least. They hadn't ever expected to see what they had seen – no matter that they were trapped in a dungeon. Should they have expected it? The question didn't even register. They were too busy mourning the loss of the little black haired boy. Hugo felt as if it was all his fault but he didn't really know how to make amends. Who would he have made amends to anyhow?
The boy was dead.
It was true that Hugo really couldn't comprehend what had happened to them. He didn't really know what he'd seen or what he'd thought he'd seen. His young, innocent mind couldn't process the images that had been just above him. All he could see were the empty eyes and the leaking blood... It haunted him, really, just as it haunted the rest of them.
Except for the little blonde girl.
For some reason she seemed just as unperturbed as always, just as blank, just as smiley. It was as if she had no idea that the boy had died, even though she'd seen it with her own eyes, had had blood splattered on her face. Hugo wanted to be mad at her, wanted to yell at her to at least cry. But he couldn't make her do anything, he realized. She was crazy.
Only, Hugo knew deep down inside that she wasn't crazy at all. He eventually realized that she had expected this kind of thing to happen. She'd been here the longest out of them all so she'd actually seen this happen before. It pained Hugo to think that the man had made the little girl go crazy. She was his friend, after all, even if she wouldn't cry.
She had warned them that the man was coming to take their magic. She had said that the man was evil and that they all shouldn't eat the porridge. It was their fault for not listening to her.
Hugo felt utter remorse for what had happened. It was his fault for not helping escape soon enough and now one of them was dead. It was all Hugo's fault and he couldn't do anything at all about it. If only he had tried harder, if only he had done something different. Even now, he had no idea what he ought to be doing, didn't know where to go from here. But he knew the time was now and that soon, one by one, they'd all reach the same fate as the little boy.
And he really didn't want to. He wanted to go home...
When the door to the dungeon opened once again, the children knew to move completely back against the furthest wall. Spread out so that no one was any further away than anyone else, no one too close to the man either.
They were friends, at least. They'd discussed their strategy should the man come and try to get another one of them. If he took one of them once more, they would tackle his legs. Another would jump on his back and poke out his eyes if they could. Then they would bite and scratch until the man fell and then make a run for it.
But Hugo knew that this plan would no doubt fail. For one, they had no idea where they were and even if they were to escape from this room, they had no idea where they were going. And even if they managed to escape the building, what then? That was if they could take the man down at all. The man was strong and he had magic. They were weak, starved, and had no magic to speak of. They would lose.
But it was the only plan Hugo had and that was what he had to put his hopes in.
The man just stood there, staring at them for a moment as if contemplating what he wanted to do. Hugo hated the man more than anything else at that moment. It was one thing to kidnap them and bring them here, but to kill his friends! Hugo was angry. He almost wished that the man would come and try to take one of them just so he could beat his little fists into the man's face repeatedly.
"Did you enjoy our little show, munchkins?" the man asked as if making conversation.
Hugo couldn't believe his ears. Enjoy? The angry bubble within Hugo's chest built further until Hugo couldn't even breathe. His face flushed and it was all he could do to hold himself down. The blonde girl put her hand on his back and Hugo realized he couldn't mess this up, not right now. She smiled at him and he let out the breath he had been holding in.
"That's alright, you don't need to answer," the man said with a smile, as if letting them in on a little secret. "I know it was a fabulous show! But don't worry. Next time we'll make sure to make it less messy. Deal?"
No one said a word and that was good, because Hugo thought he would explode. He thought... he thought he would just magically combust if he didn't do something now! He had a plan, he could make it work somehow. Even if the plan didn't work, even if everything went wrong, at least he'd have gotten rid of this consuming anger.
And then Hugo froze. He froze because either he was going crazy or the door latch had just shifted right before his eyes, opened, and pushed itself out a little.
The door had just opened!
Hugo didn't know if he was the cause of the door opening or if there was someone outside doing it. But Hugo couldn't see anyone through the bars in the door and the man certainly hadn't done it. The man was still gloating to them. Looking around him, Hugo looked at the other children to see if they had done anything or had even noticed the door unlatching and opening itself. But they hadn't. They were too engrossed with the man standing in front of them.
And that was just as well, Hugo thought. He didn't want anyone to know he could do this, if he could do it at all. This was...this was good!
"We're going get things to change around here," the man was saying, but Hugo couldn't care less about what the man had to say to them now. If he could get that door open, if he could just unlatch the door on his own, then he'd never have to hear the man speak ever again. No, he'd be free. He'd escape! "And I'm sure you all will enjoy the changes!"
Hugo concentrated with all his might. Focused all his energy on just making the door shut itself back up. His face turned a bright red as he just willed the door to move and very slowly, it did. Hugo Weasley could do magic and Hugo Weasley was going to get out of this place as soon as the man left.
Things were really starting to look up all of a sudden.
/
Draco once again found her in the kitchen many hours later. The apprehension knotted tightly in his stomach only tied itself up further at the sight of her teaching her son something out of a book. Trust Granger to devote herself to studying with his son! Know-it-all little mud- muggleborn bookworm.
Yeah, he couldn't even call her a mudblood in his head anymore. The feeling made him sick.
It wasn't that he didn't hate her. He did. He despised every bone in her pretty body. She was the reason Blaise was dead, after all, he kept reminding himself. She was the reason that his sheets smelled like strawberries and cinnamon. The reason his son actually smiled. The reason his son was there in the first place. The reason for this inexplicable confusion in his head...
So alright, he didn't completely hate her. Only loathed her quite a bit. That was still something to go by, right? He wasn't falling for Granger. Definitely not. So what if he'd begun to realize that she was quite hot and the fact that he'd been too busy with work to consider sex? She was a good looking woman and he just needed to get laid, that was all. Draco was human, after all. It was only natural. That didn't mean Granger was bearable in any shape or form.
But she did have nice eyes, yes. He could give her that much.
Nice eyes? What are you, a lovesick sap? Pull yourself together, fucker! said the voice in his head.
The only issue was, the voice in his head sounded exactly like Granger and he had no fucking idea why. He didn't care though. It was all easy to ignore with everything that was going on. In fact, when he put it into perspective, his thoughts hardly even mattered. Yeah, some psycho had stolen Granger's son, so what did it matter that he'd made her stay in his house because it made him feel a little less lonely?
God, he was losing it. He just needed to be completely brutal with her for the next few days, find her son, and cut all relations. It'd be too suspicious if he just kicked her to the curb now. Besides, he was worried that if he did something like that, someone would come hurt her. They'd killed Blaise and if they could kill someone like that they'd have no problem killing her.
And that just won't do, he sighed to himself. As much as he supposedly "disliked" her, it would be counterproductive. Why save the son if the mother was dead? It was a sick way to go about things, sure, but it was a good enough rationalization to keep the woman in his house and continue to let her sleep in his bed.
So what if the scent helped him go to sleep when she wasn't around? He was completely entitled. It was his bed, his sheets... and he needed the sleep to function while he was out attempting to force whatever information there was out of the seediest circles to roam the earth.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he cleared his throat to alert the pair of his presence. Scorpius looked up immediately and grinned. Granger just stared. "It's time for bed, Scorpius," he said, gently, pulling the boy off his seat and into his arms. He'd never get over being able to do that again. "It's well past your bedtime, kiddo."
Scorpius wrinkled his nose. "It's ten thirty!"
"It's ten forty-five, mister," Draco chided. Scorpius just shrugged nonchalantly, which made Draco chuckle and kiss the little boy on the nose. "You can continue tomorrow, I promise," he added with a smile.
Scorpius grinned, delighted at the prospect of spending another day with Granger. He looked towards her. "Will you get me ice cream tomorrow?" he asked in a stage whisper, clearly not meaning for his father to hear.
Granger actually cracked a smile and Draco was pleased at the sight, though he had no idea why. He didn't want to feel pleased, didn't want to have anything to do with it... But it was nice, nonetheless. She was pretty when she smiled.
"Only if you're good," she promised. Scorpius eagerly nodded in return.
"Minky!" Draco called. An elf dressed in a soft white pillow case appeared at the command and bowed slightly. "Please take Scorpius to bed now, will you?" The elf bowed her head slightly and Scorpius jumped off his father's lap, taking the elf's hand. "Now, I'm going to come check on you later, young man, and if I find you're still awake you shan't get any ice cream tomorrow, got it?"
Scorpius smiled cheekily. "Yes, papa."
"Good! Sweet dreams, love."
With that, Minky the house elf took Scorpius out of the kitchen and left the unlikely pair in silence. It wasn't a completely awkward silence, at least not for Draco. He felt quite... alright. Minus the fact that he wanted to jump Granger's bones, but that was simply a side effect.
He sighed.
"Did everything go okay...today?" came Hermione's weak voice. Draco looked up and surveyed her. She seemed fragile, as if anything could break her. Made of glass, the woman was. Draco wondered if he had anything to do with her condition. "I mean... am I allowed to ask that? Sorry, I just..."
"No, it didn't go very well," Draco said, surprising himself. He hadn't planned to answer anything – he normally wouldn't have answered anything at all. But he felt he owed it to her, at least after everything he'd done to her. He knew he'd been a downright git so far. That was why he'd let her come with him to the club the other night, when he'd been searching for leads on little Weasley. It was why he spoke up now. "We ran into a lot of trouble."
"We?" she questioned sharply.
"Potter and I." Merlin, it was easy to talk to her. "We found another body in the Thames. A little boy by the looks of it and the same magical signatures all over the body and it was just...bad..." Draco trailed off at her expression.
She'd turned sheet white, as if all the blood had just left her body. He realized his mistake immediately, of course, but it was too late to take anything back. "Was it...please tell me it wasn't..."
"No, Granger. It wasn't your son," he immediately babbled. Draco got up from his seat across the table from her and came to sit down next to her instead. "It was...it was just the same magical signature, you know... I just... I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have told you this." He almost smacked his head against the table.
She shook her head, but there were tears pouring down her face. This was worse than anything he'd seen so far and he immediately felt like a git. She was crying, obviously she was crying. "Malfoy – Draco, you...he's in danger!" Her voice was nearly hysterical and she reached out to clutch at his forearm. "You have to...please, just do something, please. Bring him back. You promised."
She was shaking like a leaf. "I'm doing everything I can... We have people on this every hour of the day. I've even got my own people on this." He pinned her with a serious gaze. "I'm doing everything I can. We have to be smart here, though, okay?" His voice was almost soothing, but it did nothing to calm her down. If anything, she only started shaking more.
"No, no...no..." her sobs became more frequent.
"Hermione. I'm not going to make stupid moves here. I'm doing everything in my power to -" but he could tell she wasn't listening. She was having a panic attack, and just as well.
He didn't know what to do.
It was the only thing he could think of to do, so he pulled her frail body into his arms and held her there until she stopped shivering. Eventually, her arms wound themselves around his waist and the skin of his neck was damp with her tears. She was still crying, but not sobbing anymore. He stroked her hair soothingly, just like he'd have done with Scorpius.
"I'm trying my best, Granger," he finally whispered, hoping she'd fallen asleep against him so that they wouldn't have to continue this conversation. "I'm doing the best I can."
She raised her head from his neck, sniffling. Her little upturned nose was slightly red, as were her eyes and cheeks. "But they're killing children," she said in such despair that Draco's heart cringed. "They...they could hurt my baby, Malfoy..."
Draco didn't know what was going through her head at the moment. He honestly had no idea what she was probably suffering through. His head had shut down and he knew that if he had been in her position, he'd have collapsed by now under the strain. And this is what he liked about her. This is what made him want to be just like her. But he wasn't, and he couldn't, so he did the one thing he did know was close enough.
He kissed her.
It was gentle, just a pressing of the lips. But her lips were so soft, he almost felt like he was in heaven. She didn't pull away. He knew it was probably because she was in shock. When he opened his eyes, he could see a tear clinging to her lashes and he knew he probably hadn't seen anything as beautiful as that before.
But then, he also knew he was suffering from stress, anxiety, and a lack of sex.
Regardless, he let her go and could immediately tell that feelings of guilt were passing through her. He didn't blame her. She probably felt as if she owed it to him to let him kiss her. He didn't care. He'd just done it thoughtlessly, anyways.
"I made a promise," he said gently as he got up to leave, not daring to look back at her lest he actually have to explain himself for once. "I intend to keep it."
As he went upstairs to his room to retrieve the black blade, he knew it was true. He was going to find Hugo Weasley if it was the last thing he ever did.