DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.
NOTHING ELSE MATTERS
Chapter 3 - The Company of Old Friends
The countryside around Walden's hunting lodge was wild and untamed, and the shrubbery outside looked as if it got trimmed possibly once a year or so...in fact, the main house (which was rather larger than she had expected) and outbuildings looked very nearly abandoned, and Hermione's heart gave a little jump, as she wondered if this hadn't all been an elaborate ruse to get her alone and possibly kidnap her...or worse.
It was true that at the moment, none of her friends, acquaintances or co-workers knew where she was...but over the last few years, she'd gradually estranged herself from just about all close entanglements. Harry and Ginny were the only people who saw her on a regular basis, and since they'd become parents, their attention was focused mainly at home.
"Sorry, lass, I told ye that the lodge had been closed up for a while," Walden said abruptly. Hermione jumped again.
"Are you doing Legilimency?" she asked. "How did you know what I was thinking?"
"Nay, I saw it in your expression," he said. "I canna do that spell, thought ye knew that, it's one of those rules in that wee book I got with this bloody thing," and he looked down at his wand in distaste. "I miss me old wand."
She'd seen his old wand and had been with him when it was snapped. It was...and she blushed a bit at the memory, because she'd actually thought at the time that it was quite longer and thicker than most she'd seen, dark wood with an entwined skull and snake at the top. Had it chosen him from the very beginning at Ollivanders? She thought not, but had never asked. Both of them had flinched when the Auror snapped it, and to make it worse, he'd not offered the pieces back to Hermione, as she'd expected (and as had been done with some of the others...Thorfinn Rowle had looked particularly grateful); he'd instead cast Incendio on it, spat on the ashes, and then looked at Macnair as if he expected a reply. When he didn't get one, he'd muttered "Sodding Death Eater scum," and walked from the room.
A few minutes later, in a bit of synchronicity that Hermione found slightly amusing, Mafalda Hopkirk, the Improper Use of Magic functionary that she'd impersonated in order to steal Slytherin's locket from Umbridge, showed up. After an hour-long, rather patronizing lecture, she presented Walden with the aforementioned informational booklet and his new wand, which reminded both of them as nothing so much as a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes fake.
"I'm...er, sure you do," she said, clutching her own wand tighter. Every witch and wizard in the courtroom had visibly and audibly flinched during Lucius Malfoy's testimony about how the Dark Lord had broken his wand out of its holder. "Wands are so personal. I didn't enjoy when I had to use...well...another witch's wand, one time. It felt...wrong."
Walden waved his wand at the lodge's front door, which slowly unlocked. "Whose wand did ye use?"
"Madam Lestrange's," she said.
"Aye, she was verra wrong, but ye know that, ye were there for that part of me testimony, I think?"
"Unfortunately, I was," Hermione said, with a grimace. "Can we go in?" While they'd been standing on the front stoop, a cold rain had begun to fall.
"Aye," and he opened the door widely and gestured her in. Glancing around, Hermione immediately cast Lumos, because the interior was as dark and gloomy as the countryside. White shrouds covered all the furniture and the pictures in the entrance hall. Walden was waving his wand around and muttering spells, and, very slowly, one of the shrouds lifted from a massive table, on which set a candelabra. Further muttering caused one of the ten candles on it to be lit. Walden stared down at the floor and muttered again, and after a few uncomfortable minutes, Hermione realized that he wasn't casting spells then, he was cursing softly to himself.
"Walden? Shall I assist?" she asked, and then immediately wished she hadn't.
"I'll get one of the elves over," he finally said, in what was very nearly a growl. "Sorry...Binkus?!"
A very old house-elf dressed in a tartan tea towel appeared and bowed low. "Master Walden! We was expecting you back at the castle!"
"Tell me Da I willna be coming back there this week, and get some of the others to help ye, I need some food and drink and a fire in the kitchen and one...er, upstairs-in me bedroom, get that opened up and aired out. And get someone to help Miss Hermione with her things..." and he paused and looked at her, and then added, "Please." That last bit must have been difficult for him, she thought. Given his former line of work, he'd likely heard all about her fondness for house-elves. She wondered if he was one of those Pureblood types who kept the heads of former ones on the wall and decided that was a subject best left alone for the time being.
"Of course, Master Walden! I is doing all this right away!" With a bow to Hermione, the elf vanished.
"We could...er, we could go back to my flat," Hermione began. "Really, nobody ever visits..." and then she let her voice trail off. It was clear that Walden was horribly embarrassed by his poorly-performing wand and the state of his house and she had absolutely no idea what to say to improve the situation. After the breakfast (that was really brunch) at the hotel, he'd given her a very pointed, come-hither look, so (feeling rather awkward at first) she'd gotten up and sat in his lap, and they'd started kissing again, and then he'd picked her up and taken her into the bath, where he started a hot shower, then slowly removed her hotel robe and his, and they'd spent what seemed like hours in the steam, exploring each other's bodies. When neither of them could stand up anymore, they'd moved to the bed, where he'd pulled her up on top of him and impaled her on his massive prick with a growl and urged her to ride him as hard as she could, and they'd come to such an explosive climax that she'd not properly mentally recovered until they were somehow at her flat, and she was packing the necessary items for a month's journey in her beloved beaded bag, while Walden coaxed her owl into its cage.
"Nay, lass, I need ye with me," he said, slowly. "I havena been back here since...since..." He glanced around and then waved his wand. Another candle sputtered slowly into life. "Since the morning after he killed her." No need to re-state who he was; everyone knew who.
"Oh my God...I'm so sorry, I didn't know." And Hermione took his hand, then, and looked up at him, and he waved his wand again, and the next candle seemed to ignite faster, with a slightly brighter light.
Just then a series of pops sounded in the kitchen, followed by the patter of elf feet and high, chittering voices. An elf ran by them, headed for the staircase at the end of the hall. "See, they're back now, it'll all be done, so we can relax," he said.
"What exactly is this 'relax' business you speak of?" she asked.
"Nae sure, but I canna do it with me parents in the castle, and I'm sorry, I've been stayin' at that Muggle place every time I have ta come ta London, and nae offense, but yer flat is...well, it's..."
"In Muggle London too, yes," she said. "I quite understand. Frankly, I'm impressed that you were as comfortable as you were at that hotel."
"Well, it was...I've told ye...it was where me wife and I went, but that was before we were married, ye see, er, when she was still with...er..."
"Oh!" she exclaimed. She wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or offended that he'd taken her to the same place where he'd had an affair...but this was hardly a typical situation, was it? Certainly not a relationship, not yet, anyway...but after working with him for the better part of three years, off and on, she likely knew more information than his wife had known about him, given they'd only been together for, what was it, a year or so? (And now, her traitorous mind nudged, you know him exactly the way she'd known him...in the Biblical sense! And she had been with Snape, too...wonder what that was like?!)
"Master Walden and Miss, I is needing your bags now to take to the bedroom!" The old house elf reappeared in the hallway and snapped his fingers, and the rest of the candles lit.
Walden reached in his robe pocket and handed a magically-shrunk suitcase to the elf. "Here ye are, could ye take the laundry out of it?" Hermione reached in her robe pocket, pulled out the beaded bag and handed it to the elf, saying "I'll unpack this one, it's all right, just hang it up."
After the elf left, Walden looked at her. "Do ye mind at all stayin' with me in me room, lass? If you dinna want, I can have a guest room made up..."
She hadn't actually wanted a guest room, if the truth be told; she was, for once in her life, simply going with the flow and not trying to micromanage the future. "No, that's fine. I would like some tea now, though, if we can go and get that?" He took her arm and escorted her to the kitchen, in which three elves were currently bustling around, including the older one who'd just taken their bags.
They spent a pleasant hour at the table being served tea and toast. Hermione quite liked the old house-elf, Binkus, who looked at her curiously but not impolitely. She glanced out of the kitchen window at the rapidly-darkening sky. Walden sat quietly sipping at his tea, and when he was done, he produced a pipe and tobacco and (after asking her permission) proceeded to smoke, while leafing through one of the two copies of the Evening Prophet that the elves had brought. He was clearly very comfortable in this room, and she imagined, due to the small smile on his face as he read, that he might have been recalling previous pleasant times spent here with his wife.
Although Hermione had a rather possessive streak while in school where Ron was concerned, the intervening years and all the witches had cured her of that bad habit. She hadn't wanted to date anyone for the first few years at the Ministry, although several wizards had made attempts, including the horrible McLaggen...
Walden was crumpling a page of the Prophet in his hands, a scowl on his face. She flicked her eyes quickly at the upside-down page number in the corner and quickly flipped to the same page in her copy and was rather horrified to read...
Rumour Has It? by Rita Skeeter
GRANGER'S PERSONAL DEATH EATER TRIALS?
Noted MLE barrister and Golden Trio brain-trust Hermione Granger was sighted by this reporter late last evening in the company of infamous ex-Death Eater and former Ministry executioner Walden Macnair, headed out for what appeared to be a very cozy evening. We weren't privy to their destination, but a confidential source at the Ministry stated that Macnair, who is currently on parole, was in town to register for an international Portkey, and he's been spotted checking in to the Thistle Hotel in Trafalgar Square-a thoroughly Muggle establishment-on numerous occasions.
"Bugger," Hermione muttered. "What the sodding hell was she doing there?"
It was then that she heard the tapping on the kitchen window, indicating that one...no, two owls were waiting at the window. And the fireplace flared up, and a face that she was rather familiar with from her work appeared, and said, "Walden, whatever in Circe's name are you up to, old friend?"
Walden stood up and strode over to the fireplace. "Lucius, you could try givin' some warning next time, aye?"
"I sent an owl, but apparently you'd already left your hotel. Is that Miss Granger I see with you? Mind if I Floo through?"
"I do mind, but I doubt it would stop ye," Walden growled.
Meanwhile, Hermione turned to the window, but the elves had already let the owls in. A large eagle owl dropped a letter on grey parchment next to Walden's tea cup and immediately flew off, looking rather self-important. A tiny old owl dropped a letter next to her cup. Shaken, she offered Pigwidgeon a piece of toast, and the owl head-butted her in gratitude before twittering and taking back off out the open window. Binkus closed the window with a thump, as Malfoy stepped through the fireplace and used his wand to dust the ashes off his robes, which Hermione did not notice, as she was mechanically slitting open her letter.
I came to take you to lunch today and they told me you weren't there.
Is it true what they said?
-Ron
"Why does he even care," she muttered, to nobody in particular, and then she remembered that she should probably be polite, so she stood up. "Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," she said, as she walked slowly around to the other side of the table. It was a good thing, she thought, that Skeeter hadn't gotten a picture, because she was in the same outfit that she'd been wearing since yesterday. There hadn't been much time to change. Malfoy took her hand, kissed it and bowed. "Good afternoon, Miss Granger. Have you come straight from the Ministry?" He looked her up and down and she was sure that he was likely cataloguing the extreme non-freshness of her attire, including her lack of stockings.
"Ye bloody well know she hasn't, Lucius, so why don't ye tell us what the fuck ye're doing here," Walden said, stepping in between them.
"Damage control, my brother, because you seem incapable. Let's go put up some wards, this place is as wide open as the Cauldron! I'm sure that between us we can likely get these accursed sticks to produce some actual results."
"Shall I help?" Hermione interjected.
"Oh, indeed, Miss Granger, I think you'd better, or we'll be out there until Walden has to leave for Australia...or am I correct in thinking that you're both going?"
"That's nae yer concern, laddie!" Walden snapped.
Lucius didn't seem perturbed in the least. Of course, Hermione thought, he'd spent the better part of three years having the most unpleasant houseguest possible, and thus he'd become inured to rudeness. "Oh, it is my concern, considering Evan is my godson and you tasked me to assist with family matters all those years ago. Further, I was the one who notified Heather that the trials had ended, because you didn't seem to be interested in anything save drinking at that Muggle pub!"
"I am going, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said. " I have my own reasons for going there, but Walden has asked me to accompany him, and I agreed."
"Hmm, we're all rather familiar here, aren't we?" Lucius said, as he led the pair outside. "First, we need to put back up your Anti-Apparition Ward; you'll have to do that one, Miss Granger, if you don't mind? Walden, I'm fairly sure that you and I together can do at least a passable Protective Charm..."
Hermione had already started pacing around, muttering the required charms and spells. As she put the finishing touches on the Muggle-Repelling Spell, Malfoy remarked, "Very well done. Don't suppose there's any way you can get that dreadful bint back into a jar, is there?"
"I'm not sure she'd fall for that one again, Mr. Malfoy, but when we get back inside, I will be sending out an owl that might serve the same metaphorical purpose." Anthony Goldstein, her old Ravenclaw DA friend, was an editor at the Prophet, and they'd remained in touch over the years; she normally sent him a holiday card.
Walden, meanwhile, was shaking his wand as if that might make it work faster. "The sodding charm hasn't even gotten over that tree yet! Lass, could ye try holding me hand again?"
Malfoy's eyebrows rose so high that they threatened to disappear into his hairline, but he remained silent as Hermione took Walden's hand, and they all watched as the protective charm silently ascended.