A/N- Another chapter! *cheers* This one is a bit of a filler, but the first part is a hint at Hermione's past and what happened to her.
Thanks to everyone who faved/followed/reviewed! It's always good to get feedback from readers.
Disclaimer- I do NOT own Harry Potter... sorry I can't come up with anything clever to say.
Chapter Seven
Hermione struggled, yanking her arms about without success. The Death Eater's grips were simply too strong. Her wand had been taken from her several hours previous, which was currently in the hands of a rather burly Death Eater. She was not getting it back anytime soon.
This was not supposed to happen. It was wrong; she was the Brightest Witch of Her Age, the one and only Hermione Granger! She wasn't a prisoner of the Death Eaters! She was too smart to let anything like this happen, or so she thought.
The door on the far end of the hushed room flew open. In the frame stood a pale man dressed in all black, emphasizing his pointed features and blonde hair.
"Hermione Granger," He sneered, stepping forward, his eyes flickering to her left, "And… Company,"
Ginny whimpered.
"Lovely to see you again, though I must admit that your wards aren't what they once were," Lucius Mafloy eyed his watch with a bored expression, "Or perhaps we are simply more motivated," At this he looked up, staring at Hermione as though she had suddenly vomited all over his Persian rug.
She hissed, kicking frantically. Someone told her to shut up, and another called her something rather crude. She stilled instantly when she heard Malfoy's voice again.
"Oh Mudblood. Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood. When will you learn to stop fighting?" He asked in mock sympathy. Then, in a harder tone, "Crucio,"
Hermione's world was on fire. She couldn't see, she couldn't breathe, but she could feel. She felt as though someone had taken a hot poker and shoved it into her stomach, twisting it around so she was on fire. She felt like there was a blunt knife shoved into her legs, stabbing over and over. She felt like hands were around her neck, making her go lightheaded with a lack of oxygen and an overabundance of fear. Oh yes, she felt everything.
Then it was over.
Hermione was lying on the ground, slumped over with exhaustion and horror. But her lips remained closed; she had not uttered a single scream.
"Talk," Lucius commanded, approaching her with a menacing look in his eye, "Tell our friends here what you were doing, you foolish girl. Tell them about how you wanted oh so badly to kill the Death Eaters and end the Reign of Terror, stopping the Dark Lord. Tell them of your idiotic plan!"
Raising her head, Hermione stated flatly, "No,"
The elder Malfoy bent down so he was squatting in front of her, eye-to-eye.
"Really, Granger? Is that your decision?" He sneered, but didn't blink once as he carefully watched what she would do next.
"Yes. I won't tell Death Eater scum like you anything. You must as well kill me now, because I'm not going to talk,"
Lucius stood, staring down at her with haughtiness, "We'll see what you think about that, Mudblood," He drew his wand suddenly, pointing it at her group of friends.
"You don't scare us!" Neville exclaimed suddenly. Hermione watched another Death Eater from across the room draw his wand and shout 'Avada Kedavra'. A blast of blinding green light flashed in front of her eyes, followed by a loud 'NOOOOO' from Ginny.
The world swirled into blackness.
"Julia!" A faint voice was becoming much louder, and Hermione rolled over, pulling a wet pillow over her face.
Wait… why is it wet?
"Mummy, please wake up!" That was Orion. Hermione had to open her eyes because her son needed her.
So she did.
"Sweetheart?" She was momentarily blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Hermione smiled, realizing that her little Ronnie was sitting right next to her. She also realized that several tears had slipped out of her eyes, drowning the pillow, and her face, with salty water.
"Mummy, you were having a bad dream again," Ronnie said, wrapping his arms around her neck. Hermione laughed and pulled him closer, completely unaware of the other person in the room.
Mrs. Anderson, the woman who lived in one of the rooms on the second floor, cleared her throat from where she sat at the end of the bed. The witch startled, taking in the young blonde's soft features. Hermione concluded that she was rather plain, though her clear blue eyes were nice. They had not been properly introduced, as the woman had been out during lunch on Saturday and Sunday.
"Good to see you're up, Ms. Smith," Mrs. Anderson smiled, standing from the edge of the mattress, "You were giving all of us quite a fright, shoutin' and screamin',"
Hermione shook her head apologetically. She talked in her sleep quite often, and thrashed around too, "I am so sorry. I am prone to night terrors," Orion snuggled even closer, his hair tickling her chin.
Mrs. Anderson straightened the towel that was lying haphazardly over the back of a wooden chair, "No… It's quite alright. If you ever need someone to talk, I'm here," She left the room quickly, with nothing but the faint smell of her perfume in her wake.
"Well Ronnie," Hermione said after several relaxing minutes of lying in the fluffy white sheets, "Shall we get dressed then?"
Her son jumped up, racing to the suitcase on top of the white washed dresser. He tried hauling it to the bed on his own, and it almost came crashing down on his head. Hermione used her wand to levitate it over before safely tucking her wand back beneath the pillows.
"Here we go," She said excitedly, unzipping the suitcase with ease, "Now, what would you like to wear?"
"These ones!" Orion gasped, handing his mother a deep green T-shirt and jean shorts. Hermione helped him into his clothes before getting out her own pale yellow, sleeveless dress. It was summer after all. She slipped it on, not caring if the borders saw her scars. They already knew that she had night terrors. She would let them conclude what they wanted. Hermione was past the point of caring.
The brunette skipped downstairs, something that she had not done in a long time, with Ronnie in tow. She retrieved some bacon being given out by Madam Quincie and relished it, handing bits of it to her son as they ate.
"This is-mph-good! What is it-mph-called?" Orion asked as he shoved pieces of bacon into his mouth. Hermione laughed, ruffling his hair with her free hand.
"He doesn't know what bacon is?" An older woman whose name Hermione could not remember said incredulously, sitting across from the boy at the table.
"Not exactly, no," Hermione responded, not unkindly, "Were we lived, bacon was hard to come by,"
It was true; bacon was hard to come by. If you lived in a dark cell for most of your existence and the only food you got was mushy oatmeal, water and upon occasion, soggy soup, that is. Part of the reason why Hermione had chosen the U.S. was because she knew how much of a variety there was in food, culture and people. She wanted her son to experience as much as he could before he began school. She didn't want him to stick out, or to be made fun of.
She'd had enough of that when she was a child, though for different reasons. Being a 'Know-It-All' was quite difficult at times.
"Oh," The elderly woman shook her head, as though she didn't fully believe Hermione's story, "Where in Britain did you live?"
"You know…" Hermione was never a particularly good liar, "Here and there…"
"You mean in the dark place?" Orion asked cheerily, like a child would. However, the woman across from Hermione raised her eyebrows with unasked questions.
"Yes, that," Hermione snatched an orange from a nearby plate and shoved it into Ronnie's hand, "Here! Try an orange sweetheart!" She cried desperately. Thankfully, he complied.
Suddenly, the phone on the wall rang.
"Hello?" Madam Quincie answered, "Oh hello sweetie… Yes, I know but… She's here, yes… Don't flatter me so!" Putting her hand over the receiver, the tall woman turned about and called, "Julia, it's for you!"
Hermione stood to retrieve the phone, moving to an unoccupied corner of the large kitchen. Speaking tentatively, Hermione asked "Hullo?"
"Hello there, Granger,"
Good God, not again.
"Malf- McDermitt," Hermione said forcefully, catching her mistake just in time, "To what do I do the pleasure this fine morning?"
"Jeez, cut the sarcasm Granger. You're killing me!"
"I wish," She muttered before speaking somewhat louder, "Really though, why are you calling me?"
Malfoy stayed quiet for several seconds before he said softly, "We-ell, Granger, to be honest, I may be trying to help you. I got you a… a job interview,"
Hermione almost fell over.
"A-A… What?
"Don't be daft, I know you heard me the first time," Malfoy huffed, "You've got to pay for the room at the boarding house, and I know you love books, so I got you a job interview at the bookstore. I happen to know the owner personally,"
"And why-oh-why would you do something like that for me?" Hermione snapped, irritated. She could get a job on her own, thank you very much.
"Listen here, Granger," The voice on the other end grew quieter, "I don't want my son to ever be without anything. I would usually just give you the money myself, but I know how bleeding stubborn you are and you would never, ever, in a million years take money from me," There was a pause, "So I set up the job interview, Granger, and you'd better go,"
"Why do you suddenly care so much for your…" Glancing about to make sure nobody was paying attention, the witch added hastily, "Son?"
"I am a Malfoy. No matter his blood purity he is still my son and us Malfoy's look out for each other, at least to the best ways we know how,"
Hermione sighed, "I'm still not taking the job interview. I don't need your handouts,"
She could almost see Malfoy smirking, "Don't be such a silly Gryffindor. Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who was dirt-poor and was living in a boarding house. Just take the offer, Granger. And for the love of Merlin, comb your hair!"
With a rather un-Hermione like shriek, she hung up violently.
She was NOT going to take free handouts from Malfoy, even if he was the last one with money on the whole bloody planet.