Eleven

Riddle Me This

"Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free."
― Rumi

The next morning they apparated to one of the Malfoy safe houses in Devon. Once the polyjuice potion was delivered they would then apparate to Riddle Manor, blending in as much as they could before they could wander off and hunt for the daggers.

Draco had enquired using his alias of being Marcus and had found out that the 'celebrations' would begin at seven in the evening. In the meantime they basked in their freedom, Hermione not thinking about what Harry and Ron were going through and Draco not wondering what was happening back at Malfoy Manor. Draco spent it reading, Hermione spent the day half cursing and trying to plan their evening through to every possible eventuality.

"You are not a seer, in fact you hate the seer's so this is pointless," Draco had droned to her when her pacing got too annoying for him to handle.

"No but I know hardly anything about Death Eater's. I'm going to be at a severe disadvantage, and the least you could do was tell me where these high glass cabinets are so we have an idea of the daggers location."

"You're sounding incredible spoiled," he tutted and teased, putting his book down as he patted the sofa next to him, "Death Eater families run on etiquette. I don't know who is going to be at this party but if I recognise anyone then I will tell you about them. I imagine the higher levels and the Dark Lord himself will remain at Malfoy Manor."

That seemed to calm her down a little and so she sat and picked up a book herself, her mind wishing the hours away before they would have to take the potion and melt into different bodies.

"Did you know about the tracking spell they did on you?" she asked over the pages of a book. Draco hardly looked up but she could tell that he no longer read the page he was on.

"I knew it was possible. Malfoy children have been protected by the tracking spell for centuries, in case they were kidnapped or became lost. It's extreme black magic and can only be used by the parents of said child a limited amount of times. Usually it's used in times of severe trouble. My parents have never told me it was there but I suspected. Now I know."

"So does that mean we are safe from being tracked again?"

"Honestly I don't know, either way we are not entirely safe. There will be a time when we have to return to Hogwarts and see Voldemort again, that's the whole point of this Horcrux business isn't it?" He questioned her, looking up from his unread pages. She nodded nervously and tucked her face back into her novel, not asking him anymore questions.

When they did have to take the polyjuice Hermione's tasted strongly of lavender. She had elected to get ready in one of the upstairs bedrooms, some of Narcissa's left behind wardrobe having to do when it came to dressing like Leyla Du Lac. Draco remained downstairs, swallowing his mouthful of dirt tasting polyjuice and changing to accommodate the larger form of Marcus. He dressed in a suit, slicking his hair back in the way that the man's had been before he had been cut into pieces.

He was tying a Windsor knot in his tie when Hermione descended the steps and Draco had to remind himself that it wasn't actually Hermione. Leyla Du Lac's body stepped down the last couple of stairs with a click clack of deadly sharp and long silver heels and tanned legs stretched for miles before reaching an emerald green sparkling number. It revealed more skin than what should have been possible and he had to remind himself that that was his mother's dress.

Something died in him and he found his tongue once more, "We certainly do look the part, now remember that we are meant to be a couple so we are going to have to act like it."

"Oh don't I know it Dracy," she said and trailed a hand down his shirt covered arm. He didn't shiver, not when this woman had tried to kill them just yesterday.

"I think you're having too much fun with this," he gritted and Hermione smiled between dark painted lips. "Just don't freeze if we're expected to hug and kiss."

"We'll just kiss like the French," she joked, kissing him on the cheek twice just to get the feel of it. She knew that the comment would irk Draco since his family loved the European country and she smirked as she moved to the mirror. Quietly she inspected the Dark Mark on arm, the way the snake curled and shifted as though it was alive. "Would it work?" she whispered, almost scared to touch it if it would summon Voldemort to them.

Draco shook his head as he came to stand next to her in the mirrors reflection, his own sleeves were rolled to his elbows. But he wasn't shocked by the Dark Mark since his own body still had it in the same place. "Polyjuice means that you are an exact replica in terms of appearance, but it cannot provide an exact replica to the magic signature of another person. When the Dark Lord marked us the magic imbued with the mark is added to our signature and that cannot be matched by anything. Plus it would be far too easy to track down the Dark Lord if it did work under polyjuice."

Hermione grinned a halfway there smile and played with her hair, the straight blonde hair reminding her of Draco. They could have almost looked related if Draco wasn't polyjuiced. Draco looked at his watch and sighed, "We don't have much time."

In turn she grabbed her bag, spelled to appear like a silver clutch bag, and walked a few steps in the heels she wasn't quite used to yet. She had to admit that she had spent several minutes clattering about in them just to get the feel of how tall they made her. "Let's do this then."

Riddle Manor was just as imposing as Harry told her it was. It was old and foreboding and the only noticeable difference was that people came in and out of it, tucked in glamour's and cloaks as defence from both muggles and the cold. Hermione didn't want to ask what stopped them from killing the muggles that they passed as she could suspect the answer.

All they had to do was show they dark marks and nod to a man on the door and they were in. Riddle Manor had been restored, the man room looking just as glorious as any other ballroom. Music was playing softly and Draco led her off into the middle of the dance floor. He whispered into her ear that it was so they could survey the rest of the room. With the slow tempo of a love song their bodies were pressed close, chest to chest and their eyes flicked to one another every once and awhile. They had to look like a couple and so Hermione placed her head on Draco's shoulder and swayed along to a song, that was half taken from a muggle singer, with Draco's hands pressed indecently just below her hips. The Du Lac's were indecent by definition so Hermione gritted her teeth and didn't say anything about the hands on her backside.

Occasionally, Draco would point out the faces he knew, although there were a lot who he didn't recognise at all. "Emma Durn is behind that surly gentlemen to the left of us. She's best friends with the Macnair's, probably their eyes and ears for the evening. And over there is Richard Rosier, cousin to the fabled Rosier family, but who took the name just for the association, he caused a bit of a scandal due to one of his affairs."

Eventually they broke from their dance as the music finished and they forced to converse with people that made Hermione squirm.

"How did your excursion in Ireland go Leyla?" Rosier asked Hermione as she tucked a piece of hair closer to her breasts. Attraction could do monumental things she decided. But the mannerisms were unfamiliar to her in certain parts.

"Either little Draco Malfoy is sneaky or someone is hiding him," she mused, "But you know how I hate failing so I'll be going back there when I can." The man was nodding so she assumed she had passed whatever test he had handed her.

"It wouldn't surprise me if the traitorous Malfoy's had allies in Ireland that Draco paid off," the words were out of Rosier's mouth quick enough to make Draco stride over to them from his own conversation. Hermione knew that although Draco may have hated his father, family pride was instilled in his bones and the comment would not be taken lightly. He placed his hand on the lower of her back and smiled grimly at the man.

"And we all know that the Dark Lord hates traitors," he remarked and Hermione could see underneath the mask, knowing that the words pained him, "Do you mind if I borrow my wife for a moment Richard, I believe we need a minute to ourselves."

The man only nodded and Hermione said her pleasantries, throwing in a wink at the end as Draco led her away just to emphasise the suggestion. Richard's eyes widened and then turned, a barely there flush to his neck as he scratched away the collar of his shirt.

"Let's go upstairs shall we?" she murmured loud enough for others to hear and they were creaking up the just refurbished staircase, Draco kissing her neck softly.

"Let's go and find these daggers," Draco whispered to her as they left the crowd and he led her to the Dark Lord's study, something only described in Harry's stories about his dream back in Fourth year. Once they were in the room the glass cabinet at the back looked like the gold at the end of the rainbow and Draco nudged the door shut behind them, placing a chair against the back of it when the lock didn't work.

Together they strode across to the cabinet, Draco whispering a spell so that the glass lock came undone. The daggers were there in all of their glory, two metal snakes curled around the blade to form a hilt. The blade softly curved in separate directions, one of them trailing down and the other pointing slightly upwards and each blade was surrounded by a trio of crystal balls, fogged and filled with swirling mists. They reminded Hermione awfully of the Prophecies back in Fifth Year and she remarked on it as Draco reached out a marked arm towards the blade.

The comment was made in vain as Draco's arm knocked one ball off of its setting and it tumbled forwards and out of the glass cabinet, smashing on the floor and surrounding them both in hazy smoke. Draco cursed but his expletive was swallowed as the room disappeared around them.

The boy now in front of them had to be Tom Riddle.

Dark, black hair with not one strand out of place, blue eyes that drank a person in like a man dying of thirst, and perfectly pressed robes and uniform. His green and silver tie was probably pressed as well, which spelled the definition of perfection. His laugh could ease any tense situation – a fact that she was not much inclined to hear but knew from history books – his smile was charming and full of shining white teeth that would make even her parents swoon, and his movements were graceful and dignified, but still containing his youthful boyishness and more importantly constraining his poisonous edge.

Tom Riddle was like a beautiful black leopard, full of desire and elegance and a nasty penchant for blood. He was a predator. And even when he couldn't see Hermione and Draco looking in, they were the prey. He stalked towards them, his hands clenched at his sides and then he walked completely through them. They turned to see where he was going and Hermione knew their surroundings instantly, the girl's bathroom that housed the ghost Moaning Myrtle. She froze, her mind whirring to the implications of how Tom Riddle used the Basilisk to kill Myrtle to create his first Horcrux.

As quick as it focussed, the mist reformed and condensed to silvery liquid that pooled around the shards of the glass and the image was gone. "What was that?" Hermione asked, her mind clouding with possibilities.

"It looked like a memory of Tom Riddle's," Draco began, licking his lips as he reached in and retrieved the daggers, being careful about the five other glass spheres. "But I've only heard of memories being used in a Pensieve, not anything like this…" He trailed off, referencing the smashed ball on the ground before he handed both of the daggers to her. "I also think that the smashing has alerted the others, we have to go and say our goodbyes."

She nodded and tucked the daggers into her concealed bag, watching as Draco shoved two glass spheres into the pockets of his trousers. Hermione didn't know how he accomplished that because of the skin tight fabric but she didn't think on it. Quickly he was over the door and removing the chair. "Wait, we have to look indecent otherwise they won't believe our lie," Hermione uttered and ruffled her own hair, moving over to trail her hands through Draco's. The gelled hair of Marcus Du Lac was nowhere as near as soft as Draco's natural hair looked but he still froze when she did it. Hermione bit at her lips to make them swollen and she slackened his tie and unbuttoned two more buttons of his shirt.

Richard Rosier was at the top of the staircase when they arrived, looking at them with a furrowed brow. "Richard," Draco cleared his throat, "You'll have to excuse us."

"I heard something breaking, I was just coming to see if you were alright," the concern seemed foreign as Richard allowed them down the stairs, following loosely to survey Leyla's backside.

"Oh that," Hermione laughed, swaying her hips just a bit more, "We knocked something over, I didn't manage to see what but I'll have to apologise to the Dark Lord when I next see him."

"Right?" Richard seemed concerned and Hermione enquired on whether he was alright or not, noticing how his cheeks seemed to be colouring purple the more they spoke, "Marcus never called me Richard, I was just wondering on why?"

Draco turned and frowned, "My wife always berates me on not being nicer to our friends and I know not to upset her."

She thought that Richard had been appeased but as Draco led her off to a table she saw a wand poke out from behind Richard's back. She hissed Draco's name as a spell was thrown at them and they ducked to avoid it. "Marcus would never call me Richard, it would be Rosier or nothing at all."

Hermione herself cursed when she noticed other death eater's notice the clamour. A spell hit her hand and she could slowly see the polyjuice potion unfurl around her fingers. "Draco," she hissed. Black magic was upon them and she shouldn't have been surprised.

"Working on it," he muttered back and took her hand in his as moved towards the door, "It's been nice seeing you all again, we should do this more often." He huffed as the same spell hit him and both of their polyjuice potions came undone in front of their eyes. "Run, and do it quickly."

Then there was spells ripping through the air and bodies running towards them and they were rushing and tripping over themselves just to get to the door. At one point Draco turned and whispered the killing curse through gritted teeth, Hermione didn't see if it hit but she did see the flash of bright green in her periphery. She groaned inwardly but muttered shielding spells and any defensive spells she knew. Not all of them worked, not with the rushed tone she had with them but it was better than nothing.

The words came out of his mouth several times before they were outside and heels were meeting cobblestones then grass as they ran across the grounds that held the cemetery. Hermione didn't dare say the words Draco weren't unnerved about, and she didn't know whether he was distancing himself mentally or taking every kill personally. They didn't have time to wonder, not when they were being chased and they looked like themselves once more.

"Do you trust me?" Hermione whispered as they crouched behind a tombstone to catch their breath. They were still holding hands, their bodies close as they tried to hide. Draco hesitated before he nodded, "Then don't shout at me," Hermione muttered and they were apparating away from the mess they were in.

Instead they tumbled into another sort of mess.