Hermione didn't quite know what to think, what to do, so she stood there silently looking at the space Duke Malfoy just vacated, biting her lip. He has the answers I've been looking for was the first full thought that formed in her mind, and then he knows how she killed my father and all those other men. The thoughts picked up speed like a train leaving the station. He probably has the antidote. I have to willingly give him children to get them. He knows I can perform wandless magic. He plans to breed me and his son like prized thoroughbreds. I could be princess-queen one day. Can I get the information from him another way? Will he tell his son of my abilities? What if he tells the Widow? Did she hear the conversation. What about the adoption? I'm lost again. I-
"Duke Malfoy left looking rather smug," the Widow said from beside the doors. Hermione jumped; she didn't notice her enter the room. "Care to tell your dear mother what it was about?"
Dear Mother? Did she hear or is she playing dumb? The Widow cocked her head, searching Hermione's profile intently looking for some emotional clue, but Hermione knew that if her face resembled her mind, then it portrayed every emotion she felt and nothing conclusive.
"What happened in this room Hermione?" she advanced on Hermione. "He seemed interested in the idea of you and his son at the wedding, but that was a year ago and he hasn't shown any interest since. What could he possibly want from you? What did you do? Did he give you something? Did you give him something?" She stood beside Hermione now, her voice turning shrill. "Was it something shameful? Is that why you won't say anything? Come now Hermione tell me! Did you get down on your knees for him? Should I clean the seat cushions or did you swal-"
"Shut up you wicked old hag!" Hermione shouted, turning away from her. All of Hermione's emotions and thoughts consolidated themselves into anger. She was planning to ignore the cow's questions, but her inquiries were becoming more focused on making Hermione angry than on finding answers. She'd succeeded in making both of them feel crazed. The Widow's eyes were alight like coals, teeth bared in a sneer like an animal preparing for a fight and Hermione felt herself losing what was left of her composure.
"What happened here?!" she shouted back. "You've been much too happy, walking around this house as if all was well in your world! What have you been doing! How did you contact him?"
"Is my happiness so abhorrent to you? What have I ever done to you?" Hermione faced her, hands clenching and unclenching. They felt hot and sweaty and her chest felt as if it was burning. Sirius' necklace.
"Why were you speaking with Lucius Malfoy?" the Widow snarled, grabbing both of her arms, shaking her.
Hermione shoved her away. "Get off me you stupid woman!" A loud SMACK sounded and the silence. Hermione stilled for a moment, hundreds of images flitting through her mind all at once, some of her time as the Widow's captor, some as her imaginings of revenge, and then one of the Widow trapped. An angry shriek broke her short trance and she realized the Widow stood, shackled in place to the floor. Cuffs encircled her hands, feet and neck, chains connected to an iron ring not far behind her. Her trappings were fit for a ferocious beast.
"What is this?! How did you get your wand?! Did that man get you another one?! What have you-hng!"
Hermione saw her tongue locked to the roof of her mouth and it was done. She suddenly felt very relaxed, as if her anger leaked out with her magic. The pendant, warm now instead of searing, buzzed against her breast. "You know you have my wand. And no, Duke Malfoy didn't get me a new one." She waited for the Widow to comprehend; her eyes narrowed then widened, almost comically. "I hate you with every fiber of my being. I'm sure you know that but I needed to say it. It feels rather lovely to be able to say it to your face actually. You will rot in Azkaban, I promise. Your daughters will live in the cells next to you at worst or next to each other on Knockturn at best, I promise that too. I want you and your mewling brats to know my fear and anguish, you will know humiliation and disgrace and you will know that I am not to be run roughshod or trifled with. I will make you hurt."
Hermione inhaled deeply and exhaled as she raised herself to her full height. The Widow trembled with fury, glaring at her, but Hermione could still see the glimmer of doubt that took root and would begin to grow and bloom and bear fruit. "I have a dinner to make. The chains and langlock should wear off in time for you to get something to eat, but if you're not there by dinner, I will send my sisters for you." And with that, Hermione left the Widow to her thoughts.
She felt breathless as she walked back to the kitchen, and cold. Her hands shook and goosebumps erupted on her skin. She was gasping by the time she came to the kitchen; all of her emotions came rushing back, sending her reeling. Sliding down one of the walls of the kitchen, she sat heavily, laying her head on her knees. Purposefully slowing her breathing, Hermione forced her tears back and her mind to settle itself.
Lists. Lists make life simpler. Simple. What's for dinner? She set about putting together a meal. Baked chicken, sautéed asparagus, wild rice. Dessert? Aren't they worried about their waist lines? They should be. Or maybe the pimples. Or for Merlin's sake that indigestion problem. No dairy for any of you.
She resolved to keep her hands busy, instead of using magic; hopefully it would make her thoughts flow. The Widow's going to be downright furious! Why the hell did I chain her up like an animal? I really didn't mean to. I'm not even sure I know a spell that casts chains. I think it was the pendant. It got so hot! I know ropes, those pretty thin gold chains, the invisible method Malfoy used today-
Malfoy! He knows so much! I don't need his son to gain my freedom. The Duchess should almost be finished with the adoption process right? I guess that doesn't matter when it comes to marrying Game Master Jr.-well, maybe she will have to agree to it since she'd be my guardian and I'm not quite 17 yet. It's September isn't it? My birthday is a couple of weeks from now. Sweet Merlin when did this happen? I need to ask Sirius about this necklace. What is it?
Hermione sighed and wiped her hands off on her clothes. My mind is still everywhere. She dished dinner on three plates and gathered a pitcher of water and three glasses together, casting a levitation charm on the group. As an afterthought, she added another place setting to the three. The girls were going to find out anyways.
True to Hermione's words, the Widow was indeed out in time to be seated at dinner. She did not look as if she'd been chained to the ground for nearly two hours, but her face remained stony, eyes hard as little pebbles, jaw clenched, brow furrowed. Her hands were curled up tightly in her lap, her knuckles going white and she stared down at her place settings. When her henchwomen noticed that their dinner floated obediently in front of Hermione their jaws dropped and eyes bugged out of their heads. Astoria even gave a little breathless squeak and Daphne plastered herself to the back of her seat. Hermione laughed at the reactions she got this time.
"Mother! Mother she's-she's doing-"
"She doesn't have a wand!"
"Shut up, the both of you!" their mother growled. "You sound like squealing pigs."
Hermione chuckled breathily as she set their dinner down and took a seat opposite the Widow, at the other end of the table. Even the Widow's head snapped when Hermione sat down, but when one of her daughters began to restate the obvious again, she hissed another tongue locking admonishment. For the first time in a very long time, Hermione sat at her table and ate her dinner and when she was finished, she left the dishes where they sat.
Hermione spent the next day deliberating; deliberating over whether or not she was willing to get up and do the household chores in the morning, about the perpetual comical state of the henchwomen's faces, if the Widow was avoiding her out of fear or if she was plotting, whether or not Malfoy might have-possibly, maybe-been joking. She wondered if the Duchess would adopt her soon or be able to at all, what Sirius' gift had to do with her casting unspoken spells, if she would leave this house with her last name intact or as Hermione Malfoy. Above all, she wondered how she would fulfill her promise to the Widow.
While Hermione deliberated, Azalea Granger primped in front of her mirror. She took her time fishtail-braiding her hair and rolling it up into a bun by hand. With her wand she outlined her eyes in kohl and opted for an eye shadow that made her bright green eyes pop. Tinted lip gloss made the pink of her lips deeper. She glanced at the missive lying on her dressing table.
She filed for adoption on abuse charges. The papers should reach Familial Affairs office today. There was nothing you could do about it before, but this is the real battle ground. The agent taking over the case is Robert H. Johns.
She lifted her dress from her bed and slipped it on over her underwear, followed by the outer robes. Both were tailored to accentuate her petite form, the dress cinching at the waist and hugging her hips down to her knees. The robe fell down to her slim ankles, brushing the back of her height enhancing heels. A pearl set around her neck and in her ears completed her ensemble, and with a glance in the mirror, she set off to the Familial Affairs Office at the Ministry. She had business to attend to and a man to marry.
Well lookee here 2 chapters in as many days! Enjoy it while it lasts! I had a plan all written out and still my mind defies me, so we will see how I get to my endpoint.