Beauty and the Beast by Mrs Skinner
Translation by SnapeSeraphin
Chapter 4 The visit
Hermione had taken the quickest possible route home after the terrible ordeal in the woods. Forgetting all about the book market, there was only one thing on her mind: get out of this blasted green hell.
After the shock of the survived ordeal wore off, her culpability in the unknown man's injuries had kept her awake for two nights in a row. She hadn't told anyone about what happened. Michael had asked about the market the day after, but she had brushed him off with some trite remark. It seemed as if what had happened was a nightmare from long ago times. Again and again she saw in her mind's eye the wolves suddenly surrounding her and an unsightly man bursting forth from the trees to help her, shouting terrifyingly. She was still annoyed with his pretentious, dismissive attitude towards her, yet she felt guilty. He had been injured and she hadn't been able to give him appropriate aid. Apparently he lived in the forest and it didn't bear thinking about how he would be doing by now. Surely, he didn't have the means to take adequate care of his wounds and maybe he was laying somewhere in the throes of fever right now and it would be all her fault if he were.
But Hermione Granger wouldn't be Hermione Granger if she couldn't have cared less. She knew that, somewhere, there was a human in need of help and she just had to provide it: it was second nature to her. Regardless of the fact that it might take her into dangerous territory once again. With dread she thought of the forest and which other dangerous creatures might be lurking within. Nevertheless, after three days of endless grappling with the idea, she was leaving for the forest, having taken some careful precautions.
She had searched on the internet and discovered that in the middle of the, rather large, forest, there was an abandoned and run-down manor house. Her infallible instincts, honed in many years of battle, told her that the deformed man couldn't be living anywhere but there. Unless he preferred a shack that he had erected himself, but somehow she didn't think he would. She printed a map of the area and packed supplies in the form of ample provisions and bandages. In a little shop at the edge of town she bought pepper spray that worked on dogs (she assumed wolves ought to be no problem either then) and a so-called paralyser, which generated a current strong enough to paralyse any living creature for a couple of moments, as the sales person had assured her a couple of times. They weren't her trusted wand by any stretch of the imagination, but in a pinch they would certainly come in handy.
Thus equipped, she re-entered the forest four days after her horror trip. She moved quickly but cautiously, her eyes watching every shadow and looking behind every bush. Basically she expected some monster to burst forth and attack her the whole time. Every now and then she checked her map: the last thing she needed was to get lost. She made good progress and after two hours of brisk walking she reached a clearing, from which she could already see some ivy-covered walls. The mansion stood in the middle of the forest and at first glance appeared to derelict and abandoned.
Cautiously she approached the old walls, walking in a circle around the ruin in an attempt to locate the door. In spite of the fact that it seemed as if it had been decades since anyone lived here, the old moss-covered stones and the partially broken windows that hung crookedly in their hinges held an odd charm for her. It reminded her a little of Hogwarts. The thought elicited a sharp pang in her chest and she immediately called herself to order: that part of her life was permanently closed off: she would never again see the venerable walls of the proud, Scottish castle and thinking about it continuously would get her nowhere.
"Hello? Anybody there?"
She felt as if somebody was watching her from one of the upstairs windows, but she got no reply. He had to be in there and it appeared that he wasn't going to open the door for her or even acknowledge her presence. She rounded a corner and unexpectedly found herself in front of a large, oak door. She jangled the rusted door handle, but the door appeared to be locked. Next she used the ancient door knocker, producing a loud clanging sound of metal and wood. Hermione cringed. True, she wanted to be heard by the manor's resident, but she realised that the inadvertently loud noise could also attract unwanted attention. Warily, she glanced in the direction of the forest; there was nothing suspicious that she could see. When she turned back towards the door, she saw that it was no longer locked; there was a small gap visible between door and doorjamb.
"Very peculiar," Hermione murmured as she gave it a poke with her index finger. Creaking, the door opened.
Apprehensively, she poked her head inside. "Hellooooo, are you at home? Mr Manley?" Apart from a rather impressive reverberation of her words, there was no reply.
"Right. Apparently not," she grumbled quietly and entered the house. She could have a quick look around in any case. Like before, she felt as if she wasn't alone; just to be on the safe side, she took the paralyser in her hand as she started to explore.
A little uncertain about how to proceed, she halted in the middle of the room she was standing in and looked around. The foyer of the manor would have been very impressive, if it hadn't been neglected and decaying. The stone floor that at one point in time had probably been polished to a shine, now looked gloomy and dull and was littered with countless leaves and small branches that had apparently flown in through the large windows.
The broad and brilliant emerald carpet that covered the imposing stairs leading to the higher floors was worn and had partially come loose from its moorings. The white marble that covered the walls was as dull and weather-beaten as the stone flooring; the entire house felt as if it had been empty for a hundred years.
With distaste Hermione looked at the handful of pieces of furniture, all of which had seen better days. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, to boot.
"What are you doing here?" The words thundered down at her from a floor up.
Hermione started vehemently, then regained her composure and walked towards the stairs. "Hello Mr Manley. It's me, Hermione Granger. Do you remember me?"
"I know who you are. What I want to know is what you're doing here?"
As quickly as the tripping hazard named loose carpet and his physical disability allowed, he hobbled down the stairs. Pulling himself up to his full height in front of the young female, he gave her a cool look that spoke volumes.
"I have been looking for you. I wanted to know how you were doing." Hermione suppressed the urge to take a step back. Icy grey eyes filled with anger looked at her. Not for the first time, the thought rose that those remarkably coloured eyes looked somehow familiar. It vanished almost as soon as it had surfaced though, the situation too threatening. It was beyond obvious he didn't want her here.
"You've reassured yourself I'm still alive. I am, in fact, excellent, so get out of my bloody house!"
"Your house? This isn't your house; I have done some research," she reverted to her old, bossy ways. There was no way she was going to let herself be intimidated; stubbornly she tilted her chin and looked straight into his coldly gleaming grey eyes.
"You have what?" He moved a little closer. Manley's unattractive face was now only centimetres from hers and it enabled her to discern every single, ugly pore. Merlin's beard the man was repulsive!
Still, she couldn't look away from him. With distaste she took in the long, gray, greasy strands that stuck to his head and hung haphazardly down on his scruffy clothes; the dilapidated look of the manor was startlingly mirrored in his appearance. Her gaze went to Manley's misshapen body that slanted slightly forward; she suspected that the deformation of his back made it impossible for him to stand completely upright. A slight shudder went through her at the look of his long, thin fingers with the even longer nails. How, with these extraordinarily long fingernails could he even pick up anything? Blimey, the man wasn't just abysmally ugly, he also didn't seem to care one jot about the state of his clothing!
Her gaze went back towards his face, the pale skin which was littered with reddish lines, the large hooked nose that just didn't want to fit his face and the incredibly wrinkled forehead, which gave him the appearance of an ancient man. She wondered how old he really was. And then she reached his eyes. Those lovely, silver eyes, which were flashing angrily at her and which simply refused to blend in with his grotesque appearance. Again, she couldn't suppress the feeling she'd seen those eyes somewhere before... it would come to her sooner or later; she had a photographic memory.
"I believe you have stared at me for long enough," the object of her perusal hissed venomously and pointed his long, crooked finger in the direction of the door. "Go away and don't you dare return!"
"Please, I only want to help you. Do you have bandages or disinfectant? I know you were injured, all the blood, remember? You left an unmistakable trail behind you and since I am already here..." She touched his arm for a moment and he jolted as if he had gotten an electric shock.
"Get your hands off of me! I swear, if you don't leave of your own volition, then I'll throw you out," he bellowed, pushing her into taking a step backward this time. He roughly grabbed her by the arm and wanted to roughly drag her after him in the direction of the door; the furious movement, however, must have aggravated one of his injuries, since he couldn't suppress a groan and abruptly let go of her arm. A bloodstain appeared on his shoulder, visibly growing larger.
Frightened by the rough treatment and its unexpected consequence, Hermione stared at the rapidly spreading bloodstain. "I think you need my help after all, sir." Composing herself she urged the man, who was obviously in great pain, in the direction of the stairs.
"Tell me where I should take you," she said, looking around searchingly.
Manley grunted unintelligibly into his beard, still indignantly trying to fend her off. His strength, however, was failing him. He had been injured more severely than he had wanted to admit and the facade that he had erected when faced with her unannounced visit, was crumbling before her eyes.
He grabbed the banister and started ascending the steps slowly. If he ignored her long enough, she would go away eventually, he tried to convince himself once more. Unfortunately she wasn't in the mood to humour him; like a shadow she walked alongside, careful not to touch him, since he seemed to dislike that so thoroughly. She was worried though and remained nearby to lend him a steadying hand if he needed it.
Again he grumbled softly to himself. He would rather die here and now than having to accept the help of a Mudblood and this particular Mudblood at that. Unfortunately he didn't have the strength to tell her what he thought of her assistance and her presence in this house. He needed to focus to remain standing long enough to reach his bedroom. He could tell that, because of his movements, more and more of his wounds were starting to bleed again. The fluid felt warm and sticky as it dripped down his back; the startled gasp from his shadow telling him the fact hadn't escaped her notice either.
After a seemingly endless journey, he finally reached the room he was currently using as a bedroom. He opened the door and, ignoring everything and everybody else, shuffled towards his bed.
AN: Bad Lucius! What naughty thoughts you're having.... Well, life hasn't been very kind lately, so I suppose we could forgive you.....But don't start thinking it's because we're all in love with you or something of the kind.... ;-)
Review please!