"Sometimes in order to see the light you have to risk the dark." - Minority Report (2002)
Chapter Ten: Like Obsidian
Frank didn't ask much of them. Hermione he only said hello to, and otherwise allowed her to roam from the top deck to below, where the cots, kitchen, bathroom, and even the cargo was. They'd stopped at a port city for a day, getting more supplies and food, but neither Hermione nor Draco left the ship.
None of the other members of the crew really talked to them besides Tim, who seemed to be running the show besides Frank; Tim was more organized than Frank, so he dealt with the paperwork and the scheduling while Frank made the business. The other members of the ship just shot them sympathetic looks, nodding approvingly as the color returned to their cheeks.
Tim made idle conversation when the day's work was mostly done or left to the other hands. The conversation was usually directed towards Hermione since Draco wasn't the most talkative of people.
Now that Draco had an opportunity to be away from her for more than a minute, he took full advantage of it, sitting on the opposite side of where ever she was and finding himself on deck while she was below or vice-versa.
At the moment, he could care less where she was.
He'd gotten them into this mess, really, and once again he had to tell himself to follow through. But that didn't obligate him to spend time with her; she was probably enjoying the space as well, though he didn't really like Tim talking to her so much.
"Why does she always wear those sunglasses?"
Draco shook his head, staring out at the water. He had probably given Tim the impression that he was ill-tempered and silent; he didn't really intend to change that.
"I think we should get her some aviators when we get to Bergen. She'd look great in them, I reckon."
"She's blind," Draco said flatly. "I don't want people staring at her."
Tim was silently surprised for a few good minutes, and Draco went back to concentrating on the water.
"Why would people stare?"
Draco shook his head. Tim was not irritating in his kindly personality to most, but Draco did not really like nice people. They tended to grate his nerves. "Take a look at her eyes - she looks like a freak."
"She can't look bad enough to be called that!"
"Her eyes are black, like obsidian. Ask her to take the glasses off for you; I'm sure she'd hesitate to oblige. She knows that she's a freak." Draco turned away from the water and walked away, leaving the blond man to stare after him.
"And she actually likes this guy!" he said, shaking his head.
It seemed that only crisis could bring true feelings out of his parents. They'd stood idly by while he became a menace. They'd showed nothing when he'd become a Death Eater. But the second his life was put in danger so very obviously, and in the very last chance either of them had to show their love, his mother had finally stepped out of herself long enough to care. And he was suddenly the strings that held her together.
And then, there was nothing more than that; the voice he'd hated, filled with false love, turned glaringly real in his ears.
He didn't hesitate to gobble it up. He hadn't realized how wonderful it would taste.
He saw a bit of it in his father as well. It usually came in small, scrumptious doses that Draco took in reluctantly at first, and then without hesitation. It usually happened when he was reprimanded during training or when the Dark Lord - who had a thing for toying with emotions, even among his own outfit - would taunt him or make snide comments, lightly, that were anything but light in nature. His father could not always maintain his business-like mask at these times, and it had gotten him into trouble. But among the sudden family bond, Draco missed life before, where he could be alone to do as he wished.
Being a Death Eater wasn't his life's goal... it was merely a means to an end - to be accepted in the only way he was able, the only way his father could really be proud of him.
He'd wanted Draco to not only be just like him, but to be the quintessential image of him.
"I've got a lot of news," Harry started tiredly, throwing his rucksack on the ground and loosening his collar. Ginny took his cloak silently and hugged him, long and hard.
"Go on, then," Ron sighed, gesturing.
"I'll say the bad news first then. It seems that the Death Eater's hideout was not in Gravekeeper's Cove like we suspected. Now we had to begin to look outside of Europe."
"Why would they not have their hideout in Europe? Half the wizard population lives here, along with some of the - "
"We're trying Africa next, pinpointing Egypt," Harry continued, talking over Ron's rant. "There is a large black market there for dark materials and magic artifacts; they perhaps moved closer to potential suppliers."
Ginny thrusted her glass of firewhiskey into his hands. He immediately took a sip, cringing against the spicy whiskey taste. He swallowed, his throat burning. "Also, there was a break-in in the Department of Mysteries. Several doors were forced, and things were taken from the Hall of Prophecy and the Hall of Growth."
Ginny shuddered. "What would they want in the Hall of Growth?"
Harry shook his head, and then downed the rest of his drink, trying not to gag as it seemed to have been slightly too much. "They took a few spellbooks. They took also a prophecy; one of the ones that hadn't been cataloged yet, down one of the last rows. Nora is really afraid of what they want with it. You know how much she hates prophecies."
Ron nodded. This didn't even sound so bad to him. "What's the good news?"
Harry took a deep breath. "We think we know where Hermione is."
Relief washed over Ron.
"We think she's in France. The Auror search party found some more of Hermione's wand in one of the forests there. Hermione is leaving us a breadcrumb trail, as we thought. We're now working with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to try to track where they are."
"What if the Death Eaters want us to think that she is in France? What if they planted that?"
Harry looked at at Ron. "Nora assured me of this. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement uses more muggle methods than it does wizard ones; no other fingerprints were on the wand except for hers. Death Eaters overlook such things."
He didn't really know what fingerprints had to do with where Hermione was, but he trusted Harry enough to know what he was talking about. Harry had been a muggle longer than he had been a wizard. "Okay. France, then."
"She's not going to stay there for long, though. Malfoy is probably moving quickly, where ever he's taking her... and that's the one thing we can't seem to figure out yet - whether he is working for the Death Eaters or against them. They've tried to kill both of them at least once."
"Well, let's hope for the best; I'm sick of dealing with Death Eaters."
"Aren't we all?" Kingsley said, entering the room. The group straightened up at his sudden appearance; there were only two reasons why he would come directly to the Weasley house to talk to them. Either he found something else out, or... something bad had happened.
"What's going on?"
"I need the other piece of Hermione's wand. We need to repair it to see what spell she used last."
Harry nodded and got up to retrieve the wand.
Ron bristled. "I'm really about to give up on this whole thing."
"Don't, Ron. I know this is stressful - "
"Stressful?" Ron kicked the edge of the couch, causing it to jump and thump back against the hardwood floor.
" - but everyone is looking for her. You know that."
"People don't just disappear! "
"All we have is a direction, a general area. But this is enough to warrant a bigger search team, Ronald. Besides that, we have nothing."
"WHY? ARE WE WIZARDS OR NOT?"
"It's never that simple. We can't, under the law, track people like that. We don't even know how."
"Okay. So are you really going to help me bring them down?"
"Yes. But I'm not doing it for you."
Draco shrugged. "That's fine; I don't care who you do it for. But if we're going to do this, you're going to have to follow a few rules. One, do not tell anyone. Not even the muggles." Draco had long since realized that she'd had an opportunity to escape when Frank had invited them to the boat. Though her attention might have been focused on the fact that she had secured them a ride, there were enough people around to warrant a relatively pain free escape from him.
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she knew he couldn't tell. The only indication of her eyes moving came from a light shift in the white reflection. "Obviously. I know that one already."
"Two, you do not dictate all the time. This is still my mission - "
" - Says the genius as if the whole idea wasn't plagiarized - "
" - and I still can't trust you with a wand. You'll have to earn that."
"What? You can't be serious! What the heck am I supposed to do then, shoot them?"
Draco stared. "With what?"
"My point exactly! I don't know where to get a gun, and it better be a pretty big damned gun!"
Oh, guns. "Do you think those muggle metal spitters will do any harm against them?"
"So am I supposed to come at them with my bare hands? I can't even see!"
"Well, in that case, maybe we can get you some muggle weapons."
Hermione didn't think that that was funny.
"There are antidotes to the Noctulous Blindness, though none of them are offered by healers here. The only place that I know of that has the technology... is probably China."
"Figures," Hermione grumbled. "It'd have to be halfway across the world."
"In the meantime, I need you to do your best. I need your help not because of the superior skills you have or anything like that; I need it so you can stay out of my way and help me."
Hermione hated her darkness. She hated the world she couldn't see. And most of all, she hated that this Noctulous Blindness had come to her at the worst possible time. "Alright, then."
Draco nodded. "Good."
"But one thing," she said dangerously. "I may be blind, but I'm not dumb. I need you to listen to me – I've actually gone into hiding before, and I know a lot that can help us."
Draco stifled a groan.
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