The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming them as my own.
They had been unable to apparate directly into the grounds of the Manor, so had no choice but to take the 11:30am train from St. Pancras. Four hours later they had disembarked at the nearest stop to Malfoy Manor, a ramshackle collection of medieval cottages surrounding an abandoned village green. Susan Bones, her hired photographer for the visit, had pointed out the Manor in the distance, halfway up the valley. From their current position it was merely a grey blot against the hillside.
With it being a magical village, there were no bus or taxi services, and nor was the Manor reachable by such crude muggle transport. Instead the pair had been forced to walk across half a dozen fields. Hermione paused, letting Susan tackle the style first. The former Hufflepuff had no difficulties in climbing over the fence, as she'd come dressed in practical all-weather gear. Hermione had not. She struggled after the witch, hoiking her pencil skirt up above her knees to get enough manoeuvrability. She managed to get one foot over the fence, but the other stumbled against the wood and caused her to tumble. Susan caught her instinctively, stabilising her precarious position, then helping her down to the ground. Hermione's shoes sunk at least an inch into the mud, staining the patent leather and the toes of her stockings. She let out a sound of displeasure and Susan smiled at her in a motherly way.
'We're nearly there, Hermione, and just wait,' she glanced upwards, through the small wooded area they still needed to traverse to reach the Manor boundary. 'Two hours and we'll be back in the village pub. The owner looked pretty hot,' she glanced back and waggled her eyebrows up and down, insinuating. Hermione's mood lightened and she laughed.
The woods were a little easier travel through, although Hermione did manage to get her hair caught in several branches. On one of the occasions, Susan had been required to help disentangle, and with her release had grimaced at the state of Hermione's hair. She moved her own hands up to probe what had originally been a neat but assertive bun. From Susan's expression, it now looked like she'd been dragged backwards through a hedge. Hermione sighed, but continued on, the boundary wall now visible through the trees.
Hermione felt like her heart solidified with every step she took, as if lead were being pumped around her veins. Now that the visit had been confirmed and the house was in sight, she began to have her doubts. Since breakfast she had felt a confusing mixture of excitement and anxiety. Excitement at seeing his face again, seeing the man who developed from the boy she loved. Her anxiety was for exactly the same reason - she was terrified about seeing him, scared of her own reaction and scared of his. Her stomach grumbled under her blouse and her hand moved up below her ribs to put pressure on the area. How she wished she had forced herself to eat something on the train.
Susan stopped at the main gate and surveyed the grounds through the iron bars. Hermione's step faltered and she also found herself examining the home of her torment. A gravel path lead up to the main house, winding between misshapen topiary bushes. Some of the topiary had overgrown enough to lean over the path in an ominous manner, as if they were reaching out to grab her. A small lake with a central fountain was just visible to one side of the house, but the fountain wasn't switched on. Hermione could see no flowers. It looked as if the Manor had once been great but had been long abandoned to time and nature.
She forced her gaze up to the actual house, expecting a flashback to her first visit. Her eyes roamed the grey stone which had been stained centuries ago with coal dust, a foreboding façade which was as equally unwelcoming as the grounds. Clearly, the structure had been untouched for the last few decades, but Hermione felt no recognition. Fear must have tainted her view, preventing her from noticing her surroundings. On that night, long ago, she had been terrified of what Fenrir would do to her, terrified of what might happen to Harry and Ron.
'What do we do?' Susan asked, readjusting the straps of her camera bag. Hermione snapped from her thoughts and bit her lip, hoping that the gates would be locked and they'd have no choice but to return to the warm, safe village. Her hand reached out, fingers barely brushing the cold iron before the gates swung open of their own accord, welcoming the visitors to the Manor.
The pair walked briskly up the path, painfully aware that the temperature had begun to drop as dusk settled. Hermione had the opportunity to inspect the lake closer, noting the algae-covered merman statue which sat in its centre. The trident was held up defiantly, but the statue had the air of defeat in its carving. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Was everything in Malfoy's world so depressing?
Susan didn't glance back at her as they reached the entrance. She bashed her fist against the oaken doors with force, hoping that anyone in the house might hear them. The wind had begun to pick up around them and Hermione felt the first caresses of rain against her skin.
Author's note: is hoik slang? It's a word given to the act of pulling something up with force/effort/determination.