A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! They were the most I've had so far for a single chapter and that was, of course, very exciting. The feedback was spectacular. Also, to the many new readers: welcome! Please, keep the reviews coming and I'll be able to keep the up-dates coming regularly as well. Warning: violent imagery ahead. I hope you enjoy this new chapter and all its surprises…
Chapter 13: The Revealing
The sound of that maniacal cackle was too much for Hermione to bear obediently. How dare that woman hurt her dear pet? He was just a harmless cat, after all. He had certainly never done any harm. It was sickening, this woman's enjoyment of other's pain. What was she expected to do now? Keep order?
No! She could not stand for it! She refused! Who did they think she was anyway, some push over, some pathetic sap? Well they were sadly mistaken about little Miss Hermione Granger, and they were about to find out exactly how wrong they were. She would show that nasty Bellatrix Lestrange, if it was the last thing she ever did!
In a single, fluid and swift movement, she grabbed her wand, rose, and pivoted towards her target: the murdering madwoman Bellatirx Lestrange. Hermione's expression was devoid of all the emotions that the group she now faced would expect to see. There was no hint of fear they may have hoped to find, or the sudden and passionate rage they were so used to witnessing upon the faces of those who stood up to them, nor even the similarly common sorrow that could have driven her to this mad act. All of this was gone, and in its place was a single devouring emotion that unnerved the group standing in her doorway. It was hate, pure and untainted, that dried her face and steadied her hands and breathing. Aware of its power, the mood changed suddenly and drastically as the summer weather outside the manors doors.
Bellatrix stopped laughing. Lucius actually stepped back. Draco's eyes widened in shock and fear. Their reaction only fueled Hermione's hatred, and she felt her power swell and course, like heat through her body. She felt it rise in her chest. It was stronger than her anger and her indignation and even her grief. It was overwhelming, and yet not fulfilling at all. Even as it took her, she longed for it all the more. It was as seductive as Snape had warned.
Bella resumed her cruel taunting once more. "Are you going you to hurt me? Hmm? Are you going to kill me, mudblood?" she spat the last word with vehemence and dissolved to her disgusting fits of laughter again. Still, anger did not obscure Hermione's mind. Her sheer hate kept it clear, and stilled her hand, as she waited for something that her mind told her she would recognize when the time came.
Draco stepped forward, but her gaze did not waver.
"Hermione!" How dare you face one of my family with your wand? Put it away." His angry voice rolled over her; she barely heard him. "Hermione! Are you listening to me? Put it away!"
She did not move a muscle. Instead, her body stood erect and poised as she remained silent. Sensing her determination, Bellatrix too drew her wand and stepped forward. There was no moment of doubt or realization for Hermione then. There was no steadying breath to be drawn. She felt no need for it. The time had come, and, surprisingly, she was ready.
"Well let's have it then, filthy mudblood. We can spill your blood and let it mix with that of you stinking feline friend. Would you like that? Do want to be with your precious kitty-cat?" Bella raised her wand harshly.
Lucius Malfoy interceded. He began slowly: "Now, there is no need to get bloody, my dear Bellatrix. The stupid child did not mean anything by it. In fact, she's going to put it away now, aren't you Granger?"
The man reached forward cautiously to take his sister-in-law's arm and lead her away from any confrontation. The expression he held was not unlike that of someone carefully balancing something upon their head. It was as if he was grasping at an invisible leash holding back this monster, and she was all but snarling at the end of it.
"Aren't you?" Lucius demanded in his most dangerous, softest voice. When Hermione gave no indication or response, he snapped to his son disdainfully: "Control her."
"Hermione," the younger Mr. Malfoy began. However, in his attempt to sound warning, she thought he almost seemed to be secretly pleading with her to step back in line where he could handle her. He was not going to have his way this time. Then, his voice crept to a depth she had not yet heard it reach, and he clearly commanded her: "Put it away."
Still, she did not move. She had lost the element of surprise, the hope of catching her prey off guard. She was trapped in a stalemate, tension so thick it was palpable on the air. It seemed to be rising and swelling towards an inevitable peak, giving everyone present the feeling one might have watching an inevitable train wreck. But something steadied her. Some unseen force told her to stand her ground, to wait a little longer. Now that she was here, the point of no return with a drawn wand upon her enemy, what else could she do?
"How pathetic Draco! You can't even keep your mudblood in line." That was it. It was what Hermione had been waiting for; for in her anger at her nephew, Bellatrix had turned her head a fraction of an inch for only a second, but it was enough.
"Expeliarmus!" Hermione shouted.
Bellatrix's shocked face snapped back to look at Hermione in crazed outrage. Then, several people shouted at almost the exact same instant.
"You…!" Bellatrix exclaimed.
"Sectumsempra!" Hermione threw the second curse in quick succession of the first. She had no idea where that spell came from. It had sprung to her mind and just continued out her wand tip.
"Expeliarmus!"
It was within that instant that the scene abruptly changed. Draco had her wand in his hand. She and Bellatrix faced each other weaponless and staring loathing into one another's eyes. Malfoy senior was quickly becoming angry at the uproar in his house.
Bellatrix's eyes grew suddenly wide and, in madden fury at her wand being taken, she lunged at Hermione, taking her by the roots of her hair and yanking them painfully back, exposing her face and neck disconcertingly. Then, before Hermione could react, Bella was slapping her across the face with such fervor that it was merely seconds before she could taste the blood pouring from her lips. Taking matters quickly into her own hands, however, she groped for one of her school books from the table behind her, and grabbing it slammed it as hard as she could upon Bellatrix's head several times also in quick succession, hoping desperately it would get her off of her. In actuality, it had the opposite effect. It enraged the beast of a woman, and she screeched like a banshee, making Hermione want to cover her ears.
Though the masses of hair whipping her in the face, along with the other noises assaulting her ears, it was hard to discern what was going on in the room around them. She wondered why no one had stopped what was happening. Thinking she was left again to her own devices and forced to conclude that no one would be coming to her aide, she took control yet again. By placing her feet on Bella's chest she was able to push her off, but it only lasted a second. Immediately, Bella reciprocated. Launching herself fully on top of the girl, she too scrambled for something to attack Hermione with, but she was thrown off when Hermione's head collided with a painful smack with her own face.
Now unable to see clearly, Bella wrapped her skinny, cruel fingers around Hermione's throat forcefully causing a swell of panic to rise into Hermione's chest and her adrenaline to go into overdrive. Her attempts to escape from the surprisingly strong hands constricting her air way were utterly fruitless. The pressure was tremendously painful, and she could feel her lungs begging for air. So she did the only pathetic thing she could think to do: she began slapping Bella and then pinching and then scratching. It was shallow at first, and then harder and more desperately until she feel the skin peeling away and getting stuck under her nails and then the warm wet spots on soft flesh that meant her enemy was bleeding. At first, the woman had laughed at her sad method of defense, but soon her discomfort, and further anger, was apparent.
The screaming daemon did not release her. Seeing spots in the corners of her eyes and clouds of darkness closing in, Hermione too latched on to her opponent's throat, trying her best to squeeze the life out of her. Though she saw it as a useless last resort, as a result Bella began to lose her grip in the struggle to free herself. Hermione took advantage of this and kicked her off once more. Having had more than enough, she tried to crawl urgently away from Bella in order to allow someone to intervene and bring the violence to and end, but Bella had other ideas. She scampered after her and sat upon Hermione, rendering her unable to move for the few short movements it took for her hand to find something in the desk above with which to strike her.
Before the edge of the object could collide with Hermione's skull, a hand stopped it. Most surprisingly, it was not Draco's hand, but his father's. What could have moved Lucius to intervene on her behalf? Was it that he was simply perhaps bored with the spectacle? The look upon his face testified heavily that that was not the case. He looked positively livid and it was quite possibly even more frightening or intimidating, than his insane sister-in-law's crazed violence had been. His anger was reserved, solid, and quite, but somehow more dangerous. What had angered him so?
And then, in a flash of a moment, she understood and literary recoiled in horror. The object Bella had produced from Hermione's desk she had meant to strike her with was no poised in the air above her head. She could not believe her misfortune: it was the book of Casus Malfoy, the book her mudblood hands were forbidden to touch.
The room was filled with a heavier tension than before, and its weight made the gravity of the situation begin to sink into Hermione like ink into paper as her realization, likewise, showed all over her face. For the first time since she arrived, she knew what it felt like to fear for her life, and not in the way one might in the moments before a car accident or while parachuting from a plane. Malfoy hated her, and she had done something that was, to him, unspeakable. She had committed and unforgivable sin, and, what's more, she had been caught. The rules of the game were erased and all became clear. She was sitting at the feet on an enraged Lucius Malfoy's mercy. She literally waited, like a hangman, for her fate to be announced all dread pulsing through her, each loud beat of her heart counting down.
Instead, Lucius turned suddenly to his son.
"Draco!" he barked. "Did you give this to her?"
"What?" Draco looked truly puzzled, and frightened, himself. The sharp sound of a solid hand impacting unsuspecting flesh stung the air. Draco's head was snapped to the side and his blond hair flung out of place, into his face.
"Answer me! Did you give this to her?"
"No father!" He protested. Regardless, another angry slap stung his face and Hermione's burned as well. The sound was sickening. Could she do anything to stop it she may have, but it would only worsen the situation for the both of them, so she remained trapped in the excruciating, anticipation filled, quiet that pervaded the room.
"Did you have any knowledge that she had taken it?"
"No father!" Lucius struck his son harder across the face and the sound rang through the heavy again. Hermione's heart flipped, as did, it appeared, Narcissa's.
"Tell me the truth." He whispered softly, in his most dangerous, forced voice.
"I swear it." He said honestly.
Narcissa looked visible relieved.
"So she stole it from me then?" he said matter-of-factly, and turned to look at Hermione, now laying crumpled on the floor next to Bellatrix who looked to be feeling, rather than amusement, true anticipation. It unnerved Hermione even more then her maniacal laughter. She felt herself grow cold and seem to shrink. Instantly very aware of her haphazard and bloodied appearance, she shifted under his glare.
"SHE STOLE IT FROM ME!" he roared. He tucked the book away, and turned abruptly after throwing a final look of disgust at Hermione that swept through her, chilled her to the bone, and left her feeling very small and dirty, like a house elf.
Without any need for instruction, all of them followed Lucius's movement from the room. Bellatrix looked slightly disappointed that Lucius had not seen fit to kill Hermione right then and there. Hermione, on the other hand, could now dare to breathe the slightest sigh of relief. Her heart was still speeding painfully ahead of her mind. How had everything gone so badly so quickly? At least some danger had passed by her. However, once at the door, Lucius turned to Draco once more.
"Deal with her." His simple command was a dreadfully cold one and the plain tone of his voice as he said such a thing sent chills down her spine, though surely Draco would not harm her, or so she thought. Her mind began to doubt that assumption the moment they made eye contact. The shock and appall now evident on his face suggested that perhaps he would not have a choice, and somewhat implied that he was less than devastated about it. She shuddered.
"D-Draco. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you in trouble. When I found the book I didn't know what it was."
"Shut up! How did you manage to muck things up so badly?" His mind seemed to be racing, his face paler than usual though stinging red on his cheek. His hands unsure of themselves, he seemed nervous and highly agitated.
"See what I have to do now?" he snapped, and then pleaded for understanding. "You made me do it, you see? You made me do it." She shook her head slowly in morbid puzzlement, as she watched his discomfort grow into firm resolve.
"Draco?" she questioned. Not seeming to hear her he took s step forward. She took a step back.
"Draco?" She willed her voice to hold strong. Again he did not answer.
"What are you-" His reply was his raised wand. "Draco, lets talk about this. If the order finds out that you harmed me in anyway."
"If I don't, he'll kill you."
"Let's talk about this."
"Go ahead." He paused.
"Well," she began, trying to remain the calm and logical one. "He can't actually kill me. He knows that. He wouldn't dare."
"In this case I think he'd be willing to make an exception to his rule of being inconspicuous."
"B-But how on earth could he get away with it? Make it look like an accident and it would still be obvious." She backed up further.
"Not if they make it look like a suicide. A despaired girl of promise forced into a marriage where the family didn't approve of her. And you can imagine, once they find the suicide note, well…" he trailed off, sounding as arrogant as his father.
She looked around as if for an answer. "Maybe I can just do a spell to make myself look injured and act upset when I go back downstairs, or you can lock me up for a while."
"There's only one problem with your clever plan. He's listening. You've got to scream." And then she felt her whole lower arm begin to sting terribly. He had hit her with a hex and she yelped in a mixture of pain and surprise. As the hex wore off, she made to grab her wand only to find herself still defenseless.
Another spell hit her hard in the face like a brick, causing her nose to bleed. Again she yelped and tried to stop the bleeding, ducking behind the bed in the process. It was clear that he was angry about the diary himself, she had expected that. What she hadn't expected was for him to so enjoy his revenge against her. Perhaps it was the humiliation he had endured from his father's abuse that had so strongly rekindled his hate for her, or maybe it was in his blood to find this sort of thing amusing when someone had crossed him. She was just a mudblood after all.
She hid, curled up behind her bed and panted waiting for something to happen as time drug by. She hoped to hear the door shut, but no such luck. When at last she could wait no longer, she peaked over the bed only to hear him clear his throat next to her at the end of the bed. She jumped and made to slide under the bed.
He went to his knees with a quick thump.
"Stop playing games Hermione. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
His smooth hair was falling in his eyes, and then she saw them. They weren't burning. They were just dark, very dark. She laid on her back, her face still bleeding slightly, marks around her neck, and a bruised lump on her forehead. She met her gaze and stopped a moment. She held it and he became stuck in a trance. His eyes pierced hers, she defied him. They held a mutual fascination and confusion and dislike that stilled the moment. Despite everything, she felt and saw no hate between them, but nothing more either. They were only connected. In their lives, as in that moment, their current situation was all they shared. Both of them were growing very tired.
"Just scream, Hermione."
"What?"
"Sectumsempra."
Her arm was torn; the skin opened. In spite of all her trying, she screamed. The blood poured down her arm in greater amount than she had ever seen it. The sight alone unnerved her, but the pain as well was extreme. She tried to wrap her sleeve around it, glancing up nervously anticipating more hexes to hit her, like a struck dog.
He looked surprised at the blood as well and made uncomfortable by her apparent distress, not unlike the way he might be made uncomfortable had he walked in on someone grieving in private. He watched in awe for an instant at his deed before his brow creased with slight concern; the amount of blood pouring quickly from her could be problematic. Sliding under the bed to her, wand pointed down, he took hold of her mangled arm and repaired it. In disbelief she looked up at him. They had never been so close as they were now, on their backs beneath the bed. Before she could express her gratitude however, he changed, pulling her by the healed arm angrily out from under the bed.
Exhausted and bewildered past the point of courage or reason she did not rise to her feet.
"Come on get up." It was only half heartedly that he demanded it of her, but when she, too light headed to move suddenly, did not, he grew agitated once more.
"Get up!" he shouted, puling he up by the arm and pushed away from him and slipped behind a table. It did no good. He looked away as he sent the spell that knocked her off her feet and sent her across the room. Confusion and pain overwhelmed her as she was pushed roughly against to bookshelf which poked her in the back. After few minutes of great discomfort and terror, she let out a moan she could not hold in as she was dropped onto the floor with a resounding thump.
At last he threw a loud but short lived, "Crucio!" It was like nothing she had experienced before. It was excruciating, and left her yelling so loudly it echoed in her ears even after the pain had stopped coursing through her body. She shook as she picked herself up and tried to steady herself. Whatever had just happened between them this was certain: it was the oddest, most painful experience of her life and it was over. She would leave in the past for now.
"Why couldn't I have just faked that as well?" She asked breathlessly.
Draco was taken off guard by her question.
"You could have just said: 'Scream your head of like I'm hurting you.' You didn't have to-"
"He would have known the difference." Draco put his wand away. "He knows what people sound like in pain. Besides, you did deface the book of my ancestors." His look was resentful, but it faded away somewhat as he asked: "Are you okay?"
"As well as can be expected, I suppose." She said gloomily.
"Very well. When you come downstairs, don't forget to limp."
"I won't."
"On second thought, you're right. It's best all around if you stay in here for a few days. Knobby will care for you."
"Alright." She agreed, eager or him to leave her be. As he turned to go, however, he hesitated.
"You should consider yourself lucky that I was so kind to you and that the ministry seems fit to protect you at the moment. You may be breathing heavily now, but if father had had you alone, you would not be breathing now at all. Breaths are precious things."
"Well I suppose I should thank you, then." She did not say it particularly enthusiastically, but sincerely none the less. She had felt how close she came to dying that day. Breaths were precious things… Her ears were ringing. His eye brows still shot upwards in surprise. He opened his mouth to say something, but looked dumbstruck. Then, his face fell and his brow furrowed as he looked at something behind her.
"What-is-that?"
Hermione's head whipped around and was beyond disturbed to see what was facing the two of them. She thought perhaps it was a trick of the light. She hoped it was a hallucination. She prayed it was a trick.
But the figures moved forward and a gasp filled her lungs as she realized it was no such thing. In the corner of the room, moving cautiously forward behind the equally bashful Knobby, were her friends Harry and Ron. Despite her fear, her outrage, shame and anger she ran to them and enveloped them in her arms. Her face buried in their shoulders, she could not manage more than their names and some incoherent squealing. Draco looked on, disturbed and worried.
"How did you-?"
"Hermione what happened?" Ron interrupted, clearly concerned.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked, cupping her bruised face gently in his hands.
"What did that slimy git do to you?" Ron demanded angrily.
"This? Oh, this is a disguise for Lucius."
"Lucius?"
"Yes."
"So Draco didn't actually hurt you?" Harry questioned suspiciously.
"Of course not." She laughed nervously. The lie seemed to satiate them for the time being.
"Hermione you look bloody awful." Ron offered lightly.
"Thanks Ronald, how very kind of you." He quipped sarcastically.
"Sorry to interrupt this pleasant little reunion," said Draco, though he sounded anything but sorry. "But if my father finds out you're here you are dead."
This made Hermione start and she turned to them with a scowl. "What on earth are you t doing here! Draco is right, Ron. You'll be killed if you're discovered. Or worse." She said, looking directly at Harry.
"We had to come see if you were alright! After what happened at the Order meeting-"
"What happened?"
"The diary! We opened it to read your report and blood was everywhere. The Order went into frenzy. Lupin grabbed and me and Harry from jumping in the fire right then and there, but we just went upstairs to do it."
"That's completely ridiculous. How could be so foolhardy?"
Harry answered her while Ron looked at his shoes in proper shame. "You know us, Hermione. We didn't really think about it. We were distraught, weren't we?"
"What was all that about? The blood, I mean?" Ron asked.
She wasn't able to reply and, instead, turned to look at the floor where the said bloody diary lay. The paw had vanished, but the puddle remained.
"Crookshanks-" she began, but trailed off in tears.
"Crookshanks?"
"I couldn't find him the other day after the dogs chased him. Bellatrix must have attacked him and she put his- his paw in my…"
"That evil bitch!" Ron exclaimed and glanced at Draco expecting some contradiction or apology, but he offered none.
"Then, she attacked my aunt." The young Malfoy contributed.
"You did?" Ron asked her, taken aback.
"Sort of."
"Brilliant!" the boys exclaimed. She almost smiled, before remembering why she had done it.
"But Hermione, Crookshanks is fine." Harry comforted her.
"What on earth do you mean?"
From behind, with a smile that said he was clearly pleased with himself, Ron produced the furry little beast, whom was perfectly fine save a little mud and one missing paw. At this, Hermione's eyes spilled over with tears, but this time she was smiling.
"CROOKSHANKS!"
"Keep it down! And would you get them out of here?" Draco whispered in an urgent, highly irritated tone.
"Of course, he's right. You have to leave." She said, nuzzling the ball of fluff lovingly and caressing his fury amputated paw. Poor thing. "How did you get here anyway?"
"The Floo network. Luckily, we ran into Knobby when we got here."
"Thanks Knobby!" Hermione said gratefully, making a mental note to repay the house elf no matter how much she objected to it. Greatly recovered from part of her traumatic day by their presence and the reappearance of her cat, she managed to scold the boys on their way to the fireplace.
"You two idiots! What did we say a thousand times? 'Don't do anything drastic!'"
"What? You call this drastic?" Ron joked.
"Yes! I do!" she laughed, half- exasperated with the pair.
Draco raced off, growling impatiently: "I'll make a distraction."
"Thanks!" she called over her shoulder.
"It is great to see you, Hermione!" Harry said before going.
"Oh you too!" she said, hugging both of them hard before shoving them into the fire, her eyes swimming once more. "Harry!" she shouted into the hearth at the last minute. "Take Crookshanks!" He caught the cat with confusion covering his features. Although it hurt to leave him, Hermione felt she had to keep him safe, and that was the only way she could do it.
She waved into the fireplace as her friends and cat disappeared into the green flames, and then, breathing an exhausted sigh, turned her sore and weary body to look longingly at the bed.
A/N: See? No cliff-hanger this time.At last, Harry and Ron make their long anticipated appearance. Crookshanks is not dead I never said he was dead, just that his paw was there. Hint: don't assume anything with this story; I've put in a lot like that. I know the bit with Draco may not be what you were expecting, but I promise that all will be explained.Were you expecting Hermione to get caught? Please let me know what you thought and any questions you may have. As always, thanks for reading!