Vial of Black Ink - Midnight's Feather II
Hermione let out a sigh when she was finally out of the tavern. No longer feeling like she needed to be looking over her shoulder every other second, fearing someone might recognize her.
She was now sitting in the forest surrounding the small wizarding town, taking out the black pouch from her pocket. Hermione pulled at the dark strings keeping it closed, opening the pouch to look at the contents within.
A single clean vial lay within, along with red silk wrapped around various dark and rare potion ingredients. After sifting through a few of them she found what she needed for the potion and took out the vial, stripping off her shoes to keep it balanced between her bare feet. Any magical contact with the vial would omit the properties of the potion; so she didn't dare levitate the thin fragile object.
She began with cutting up the ingredient with a small pocketknife, smashing them to a pulp with rocks before dropping them into the vial. Watching the liquid go from bright gold to a blue whisper until turning a dark black. It was swirling now even though she wasn't moving the vial, spinning faster and faster-
"Granger."
Her back went ram rod straight, throat tightening as she forced words from her lips, "You're mistaken."
"I don't think I am," Barty's voice filled her ears as he stepped from the trees, boots crunching the leaves beneath. "Just where are you trying to run to?" He finally stopped in front of her, leaning down to look at the potion, to see her face beneath the hood. "Or should I ask who you're trying to find?"
The potion had finally settled, the black mass compressed together, with thin little lines branching out from the brittle bone like structure running down the middle of it. Midnight's Feather, now surrounded by a clear substance.
He plucked the vial from the confines of her feet and she raised her head slowly to watch as he gripped it lightly between two fingers. "Where are your friends? The Weasley boy? Potter?"
"We got seperated," she replied softly, listening for extra pairs of feet but finding none. Had he really come alone?
He ran a finger down the side of the vial, grip loosening in the process, but she didn't dare make a move to take it from him. "Have you already set the destination?" When she didn't answer his grip tightened on the vial as he gazed at her, silent for a few long seconds. "Come," he said, reaching forward to grasp her wrist with one hand, shattering the vial in his other hand.
The clear liquid dripped down his palm in thick droplets, like blood. His fingers held the Midnight's Feather between them now as he disapparated with a loud crack, leaving the forest empty and silent as a grave.
Prompt: 14. Black