La Belle et la Bête
Chapter Three
"Who is this?"
It quickly became apparent that this was their master. The three younger servants immediately sank into their knees before him, their heads bowed shamefully while Molly simply inclined her head.
After another moment of silence, the master turned towards Gregory, stepping into his personal space as those eyes bore into his.
Molly, who seemed to have bolstered herself up a bit, raised her chin proudly to shield Gregory from the pale you man. Though she wrung her hands nervously together, her voice never wavered as she answered his question.
"Master Draco, this man was seeking shelter from the storm. We were about to send him on his way."
This only seemed to infuriate young master Draco more. He took a step forward, towering over Molly as his eyes darted from hers to Gregory's.
"And what of the rules? Do you not care of the consequences? What's to say this man won't rob us blind?"
"I swear sir, that was never my intention," Gregory managed, his voice cracking.
"Silence, sir, I do not speak with you."
Those cold steel for eyes met his over Molly's head, their glare enough to strike a fresh wave of fear in Gregory before he had to break contact and look away.
"What have you to say, Molly?"
"Master Draco, I know of the rules and why their in place, but I could not abide. You may just take what he's eaten out of my rations of the day. He's about to leave."
The master turned away, pacing the length of the fireplace. The emotions crossing his face seemed to war with one another as he rubbed his chin in thought. Finally, looking as if he'd swallowed something bitter, he turned back to his servants.
"I want you out of here now," he said. "Take your things, return from whence you came and never speak of this place again. . ." He made sure he had Gregory's eye contact before he continued. "Heed my warnings, because if you take advantage of our hospitality I will not be lenient again. . ." He turned to his servants. "Give him what he needs and send him on his way."
He swept from the room as quickly as he entered, and with murmured assent his servants quickly got to work, and within minutes he was wrapped up in his cloak and on his way out to door with a haste thank you and goodbye.
The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, which was much easier to deal with. Now that we could see the grounds better, he took note of how beautiful they were, even if they were a little unkempt: flowers grew wild everywhere, fruit trees blossomed in the early harvest air, the green grass grew tall. Closer to the gate, he noticed a finely made statue of a woman, keeping vigil with a rose in hand. Her beautiful face was carved with the utmost care, her expression serene. Around her bushes of red roses grew wild just like everything else.
Hermione loved roses. He brought her one whenever he could, and though he couldn't exactly tell her where he'd been, he could at least bring her something back. Glancing over his shoulder to be sure nobody was watching, he plucked a small rose from the bush, carefully folding it in cloth to store in his pocket for the journey.
Snap!
The world turned upside down as he fell onto the muddy ground. Above him, a face appeared, contorting with rage.
A few days later, Hermione sat before the fire, warming her wet feet from the morning's chores. Hogwarts: A History sat open in her blanket covered lap, her mouth shaping into a small 'o' as she carefully studied a map of Hogwarts castle.
A sharp knock on the door startled her out of her reverie, causing her to nearly drop the book on the floor. She sighed as she removed her blanket and placed her things in the chair, all looking lonely without her.
She opened to door to find none other than Viktor Krum on the other side, the usual smirk in place. He leaned an arm onto the door frame, inclining his head down to meet her gaze squarely.
"Hermione." He said it slowly and deliberately, and while it was nice that he could finally say her name, it only made her frown. She so desperately wanted to return to her book and be done with this man. "Vhere is your father? Has he not returned from his last excursion?"
"He's working," she answered shortly, crossing her arms and planting her feet. Never in a million years would the likes of Viktor step into her home. "He's gone to a village nearby, I expect he'll be back today or tomorrow."
"It has been days since you've been in the village, I thought I vould come and make sure you are safe. It is not right for a maid to be alone for so long."
"Have you been watching me, Viktor? You are not my keeper, despite what you might think."
"I vos out hunting, of course," he chuckled at her annoyance, taking a step closer. "But I have to admit, it rewarded me a chance opportunity to see you this fine morning."
"Did it now?" she answered. "Well why did you want to see me today, Viktor?"
"To give you this."
From behind his back he produced a rather ornate jewelry box. He handed it to her, watching her expectantly as she timidly took it.
When she did not reply or offer any other reaction, his face fell. "Vell? Vill you not open it to see vot is inside?"
Biting the inside of her cheek, she did as asked, feeling her heart drop to somewhere near her toes as she discovered a beautiful gold ring, with a rather large pearl settled in it's center, small emeralds nestling around it. He removed the ring from it's pillow, sinking down onto one knee.
"Hermione," he said, looking for the first time a vulnerable man. "You know I long for you. I have forsaken any other maiden in this village for your attentions and yours alone." He took her left hand in his, holding the ring aloft. "Vill you be my wife?"
"Viktor . . ." Her mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, trying to be as kind as she could to him. "You know that I . . . I will not say that I'm not very- that I'm not fond of you, but . . ."
"Then vot is the problem? All you must say is yes."
"I can't, Viktor," she shook her head, grasping his shoulders to help him stand. "I cannot take that ring. I'm not worthy of it because I do not love you."
His brow furrowed. "I do not understand. I can offer you a home, security . . . a comfortable life. Love vill come later, I know it."
"No Viktor," she shook her head slowly, "it won't. We've known each other for five years, if it is yet to happen I seriously doubt it will in the future. . . You need to give this up already. Move on and find someone that will bear your children and make you happy."
"But I-"
They were interrupted as a panicked squealing rent the air. Crookshanks, unsaddled with only his bit harness and reigns remaining, his flanks shaking nervously as he trotted a cirlce in the yard.
"Crookshanks!" Hermione called, brushing past Viktor to rush to the animal.
The horse reared up onto his hind legs as she approached, the fear in his eyes mirroring her own. She finally got hold of the reigns, soothing the horse though her heart was pounding in her throat. This was bad. What if her father was hurt somewhere, scared and alone, or worse? She needed to find him.
"Viktor, I'm sorry, but I must leave," she said breathlessly as she guided the horse towards the stable. "Something is wrong. Something has gone terribly wrong."
"I vill go, then," Viktor said, approaching the horse. "It is not the place of a woman to do such things."
"I can and I will," Hermione said fiercely. "That being said, the village my father was on his way to was a muggle one, you would not be able to fit in if you tried."
"Then let me accompany you," he tried to reason. "I vill stay on the outskirts of the village."
Biting back any snapping retorts, Hermione instead took a deep breath, heaving an old saddle up onto Crookshanks with the help of a step stool in his pen. "No Viktor, you cannot. I understand your concern but I can take care of myself. It is my father for whom I fear."
"Herm-own-ninny," he said quickly, the old habit rearing it's head, "you must not be so stubborn. This is something for a man to do."
"Try and stop me," she snapped, losing all patience, eyes blazing as she glared down at him. "I'm leaving."
"Fine," he snapped back. "Do not come crying to me when you cannot find him."
Hopping off the stool, she said no more as she hurried into the house to change into a heavier dress, warm cloak, boots and to gather some food, her wand, and one of the spare maps her father kept lying around. As she locked up the cottage, she spotted Viktor on the edge of the property, watching her solemnly.
She never looked back as she took off on the horse at breakneck speed.
Hermione gasped in horror as she found her father's cart abandoned in the road, a massive broken tree branch lying in front of it. Even though she knew the chance was slim, spotting it further up the road had given her hope.
Examining the broken breech collar and breast plate, her mind went spinning, wondering if her father had gotten hurt, possibly thrown from the cart as Crookshanks was so terribly startled that he'd shaken free of his restraints. Though some of the items had broken free from the cart and were now scattered in the road, most of father's goods remained in tact, still in the very spot she'd fixed them into with her wand.
She walked Crookshanks further up the path, hoping to find footprints, though she knew it wasn't likely after the weather they'd had the last few days. As the path grew darker, the trees growing denser, she felt that ever present fear blossom larger in her belly. Had someone picked him up? Had he been taken by malicious men? Robbed of what little coins he had and kidnapped to be sold for a price?
They followed the path as long as they could, as the trees nearly blacked out the sky and the grass grew wild; bushes rustled with unseen wildlife, birds chirped among one another; the path was rather muddy and unkempt, unlike the path leading in the opposite direction. The path wound around a hillside, the sounds of the wild having completely robbed the sounds of civilization. You could hear the breeze rustling the leaves above but you could not feel it through the thick vegetation.
Suddenly, the shadows grew ever darker, so quick that it could not be from any rain or the setting of the sun. Way ahead, she spotted a pair of wrought iron gates, the pickets sharpened to a point, two gargoyles standing guard on either side. Brick fencing went on and on, for what seemed like miles. Dismounting her horse, she tethered him to a nearby tree, making sure there was plenty of shade and a nice patch of grass and weeds for him to graze on.
"I'll be back," she promised, not sure why she was whispering.
She paused in front of the gate, taking in the sight of the massive black castle. It looked deserted, no lights in the windows, no servants working about. The windows she could make out best had their curtains drawn, the grounds grew wild and unkempt, though the flowers that grew were in every color imaginable. The castle was vast and formidable, but if her father had found it maybe he'd found a way in to take shelter from the storm. There was a great chance him not being there, but there was only one way to find out.
Retrieving her wand, she tapped the lock securing the chain that locked the gate doors together. "Alohomora."
The lock came free, the gate groaning in protest as she opened it just enough to squeeze through.
"Father, I'll find you," she murmured, following the stone pathway. "I won't stop looking until I do."
Author's Note: The last short chapter before we really get into it. Sorry the last few have been so short, I've been taking care of my husband and a new puppy, which takes up quite a bit of my time! :)