Chapter 1: The Mall of Mayhem
Hermoine Jean Granger utterly despised the mall.
It was always too busy and loud, any time she had to go shopping there were always those sweaty old men who smelled like old cheese and middle-aged ladies who felt entitled enough to run you over with their cart. A child was crying their lungs out over spilt ice cream, and a couple argued over trivial things like paint colours. Even when she just went into the bookstore looking for some light fiction, everything was too loud and overwhelming. Ironically enough she never felt this at Diagon Alley, maybe it was the magic, or just the smell of fresh air whenever she walked to flourish and boots, that that crowd always made her feel more welcome. After she became old enough to be able to, she never attended the mall.
But as she stood in the middle of the Westfield Stratford City mall, literally surrounded by Death Eaters, the smell of burning flesh and something so putrid her eyes started to water, she started to really miss the innocent chaos that it once had.
She knew it was her fault that she got into this mess. She wasn't on the mission, hell she shouldn't even be in the country at the moment. She should be sitting in a French safe house learning ancient healing practices from an old healer woman who frankly only speaks French which in Hermione is even close to fluent. She should be obsessively translating texts, and getting knowledge into herself. But no, she, the fucking brightest witch of her age, is in a mall even after she swore that one, she would never put a foot in one, and two, that she would follow the bloody plan.
She apparated in a second before the anti-apparition wards flared and washed over her practically locking her into place, but she wasn't really thinking which was quite unlike her, now that she thinks about it. She just kinda panicked. She was about to leave for France, the portkey already in her hand, staring back at her. Mentally she argued with the little brown button debating if leaving her friend was really a good idea, and if the witch would shout foul things at her for being a teeny bit late. Just as she finished her heated debate, but on her trench coat which saw better days the owl arrived. It was really non-descript brown bird, one that the order uses for basic communication. She didn't even think much of it, letters went in and out of headquarters all day. But as the ol dropped the neatly folded letter right in front of her foot, dread started to wash over her.
She knew it only could have been one thing… a mission. She knew it wasn't hers, she already had her mission papers in her pocket ready for identification. She bent down and picked up the battered letter with trembling fingers. It had to be a mission either Harry or Ron had to go on. Knisley and Moody were strongly against it, and Hermione knew the risks, but they needed to know about each other. She needed to know about them. So every time one of them went on a raid or mission, the other two got a letter updating them and giving them some basic information. It was forbidden to act on the information, but she always felt comfort just knowing. She looked down at the letter and opened it. For a second she recognised the official text, the code telling her about the time, date and place of the mission. But the thing that chilled her blood and nearly stopped her heart was the neat writing at the bottom of the little paper, a handwriting that was familiar and still she couldn't place it. The writing that should not have been there, showed that the information was compromised, and something was very, very wrong. The neat little word "Trap" stared back at her as she got her want out and apparated into a den of snakes.
As her head cleared after the whiplash of sudden apparition her eyes darted around her surrounding noting that she was utterly fucked.
"Fuck" She muttered.
Death Eaters stood around her in a literal fucking circle, their surprised faces hidden by those ugly masks they wore. Hermione mustered her expression and gripped her wand tighter not letting her fear to show. She was a decent fighter, but she wasn't good enough to take down 8 death eaters by herself. She needed a plan, like yesterday.
The fight raged around her more fiercely than she ever heard, she heard shouting and crying, as spells reverberated through the floor shaking her bones. The Death Eaters around her waited, wants trained on her their confusion showing in their wavering. In the stolen moment she tried to remember yesterday's combat training, and what on earth exactly Bill did, to get his red-haired ass out of a similar situation. She could feel the solution at her fingertips… It was a radius spell knocking figures down.. she knew that somehow she had to get out of the middle...
"Confringo!" The shout came from right behind her, jolting her out of her thoughts.
Shit, shit, shit
"Protego" she muttered under her breath just in time. The dark curse struck her barrier with a deafening impact, causing her shield to rattle and her grip on her wand to waver. She did really hate fighting. Taking a deep breath so her hands would stop shaking, she released her shield and spun around, quickly launching a Bombarda over her shoulder. A few seconds later the spell detonated with a powerful blast, shrouding the area with even more smoke and debris. She hoped it had incapacitated at least a few of the Death Eaters because she really needed an upper hand. In the midst of the swirling smoke, she could hear incantations, curses, and spells around her, not knowing which was meant for her and which was meant for other order members. Panic threatened to overwhelm her as she saw two jets of light piercing through the smoke aiming directly for her. She squatted low, making her thighs scream in agony as the curses whizzed over her head. Her mind raced to calculate her next move so she could get out of there alive, or at least not at the next Death Eater dinner.
She bounced back up shooting curses at the dearest death eaters. A small smile crossed her lips as she saw one of them fall, rigid, a victim of her well-timed Petrificus Totalus. Her moment of victory was short-lived as a searing pain suddenly radiated through her side, making her gasp. She looked down as blood leaked from her torn coat. She whirled her head up looking for the one who got her but she struggled to see through the haze of smoke and grime, her senses overwhelmed. Was that the taste of blood in her mouth, or just the tang of magic in the air?
A curse narrowly missed her head, singeing her hair...again.
"Expelliamus" she shouted at her nearest attacker, sending a spell towards them while two more jets of light hurtled in her direction. She spun, letting those lessons take over, her body moving on instinct, her movements swift and desperate. She knew she wasn't good, but she hoped it was enough to survive. She fired another curse into the thick fog, praying it would find its mark. Somewhere far away she heard someone shouting her name, but she couldn't concentrate on it. She turned her head frantically tryngto to imitate anything around her. Unshead tears were in her eyes, and her side was making her grit her teeth. For a second she thought it was over, that she lost all of them and is able to get to her friends. Just as she was about to let out a breath Two Death Eaters emerged out of the obscurity, with the Killing Curse on their lips.
"Diggindo" she screamed, her wand aimed at their legs, and even before they had time to raise their wands, their tendons were sliced, and they crumpled to the ground in pain. She petrified them for good measure and tried to find the Death Eater that wounded her. She could feel their eyes on her, and the hair stood up on her back. Her body ached, her breathing was laboured, and with every breath, it was like liquid fire was poured into her side.
A chuckle echoed from somewhere and she spun, trying to locate it. Her hair was stuck to her sweaty forehead, as she got dizzy from the blood loss.
"Little mudblood, came out to play?"
She turned again, trying to see through the smoke. It was too thick, and her vision was hazy barely picking up distant shapes and shouts.
"Oh, is the little mudblood scared?" came the voice from another direction. She slowly stepped toward the voice. letting the Glass churned under her boot reminding her of the sound of broken bones.
"Come out and you will see!" she shouted into the nothingness faking bravery.
"Oh, how feisty" She barely great the last word when the green jet of the Killing Curse illuminated the path before her. She dived, scraping her hands and knees on the rough floor trying to get out of range. She shot a Stupefy blind as she scurried to get back on foot. She knew that voice, but before she could identify it a non-verbal spell was already racing for her, with blinding purple. She barely sidestepped it, almost slipping in someone's blood when the next came at her. She was shaking, not able to aim a decent spell, and her head was just not fucking working. She shot back with a slicing-hex hoping at least it was in the right direction.
A shiver raced down her spine just as an icy voice whispered into her ear.
"Almost got me"
She whirred around screaming but before she could even raise her wand two icy hands took her wrists holding them in a death grip. She didn't dare to let go of her wand, and the wood dug into her palm. She looked up at the mask of her attacker, right at the ugly thing they wore, into the slits where the eyes of the Death Eater were. She mustered all of the hate she accumulated since the loss of the Battle of Hogwarts, through all the unsuccessful raids, lost lives of friends, and sleepless nights and put it into her look while she tried to catalogue through all the wandless and nonverbal spells that could maybe get her out of this situation. Under the darkness of the mask, she could almost see lifeless blue eyes that stared back emotionless. Her wrists were in agony, her side hurt so much with every laboured breath she saw black spots and she knew she only had a few seconds before she was dead..or worse.
So she did something she swore to never do again. The spell she did once, and promised herself, and any alive god that would never ever escape her lips again.
"Legilimens" She muttered as she dove head-first into the Death Eater's mind.
She slipped in like she once did in a random waterpark in France. A dark tunnel where water sprayed up her nose, and even if she wanted to stop it she couldn't. As she got in, she felt the mind of the death eater close around her, basically locking her in. Fuck.
He was a fucking Occlumens. She tested her magic and felt no holes in the wall of their mind. She was so fucked.
She still felt the battle around her, the pain in her whole body but she was also standing in an ornate garden, with lush bushes filled with magical flowers and butterflies of every colour flying around her and settling in her main of a hair. She looked around in awe, noticing a huge lake with crystal clear waters and delicate swans swimming in it, a greenhouse filled to the with herbology ingredients and rare plants that even from far away took her breath away, and a house that.. no not a house… a manor. She took a step back her memories bringing her back to the worst night of her life. The same tall white wall was decorated with big black windows that had thick curtains behind them. The same slanted roof, with gargoyles, the same grand door imposing at the front of the house promising only pain and suffering. She was going to puke, she was… oh fucking merlin she was in…
"The fuck are you doing Granger?!"
Her head shot up, seeing through the black spots of her vision Draco fucking Malfoy still in his death-eater robes staring at her. He looked different than she remembered. His face was sunken in, his eyes missing the knowing glint they had in their school days. His frame filled out and he was even taller than at school but he looked… like a husk of the boy she once knew.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god" she took another step back from him.
She knew it was a stupid idea to break into the mind of a Death Eater, but now seeing the place most of her nightmares took place she would have rather them fucking kill her than be there. She tried to pull back, get back into the battlefield but her memories of the manor, of her scar were closing in on her, and the only thing she could think about was that room. Her lungs were on fire, her side began to hurt, and she swore she felt blood dripping from her hand. The scenery slowly started to change around her, and she tried, tried so hard to get out. The colour drained out of the bushes and flowers, the sky becoming a ceiling with a great chandelier made of butterflies hanging from it. She felt vertigo as the gardens fully disappeared and the drawing room came fully into view. She attempted to escape, but her back met the mantel with a stud, locking her into place. She looked and just looked at the middle of the room where.. where she was tortured. Bellatrix leaned over her, using the Black family knife to pierce her skin and etch the letters of her mark permanently into her flesh. She was screaming and crying, her voice echoed over the walls of the room. Her ears were ringing and she could hear the panic and desperation in her own voice, the need to get out the want for it to be all over. She could still remember the pain, the cruchiatus curse she got stuck with right before Bellatrix had enough. Right before she decided that Hermione had to atone for her sin of being born, and had to be marked so all who came across her know who she was..what she was. Bellatrix chuckled gleefully as the blade cut into her flesh, spilling her blood onto the white marble floor, marking it forever.
For a fleeting second, she dared to look at her own face, twisted in agony. Snot, tears, and blood were smeared on her face, her hair was sticky with rain and blood, and she screamed, screamed like she never did before she looked like a broken person. Tears welled in her eyes, and she could hear herself crying over the creams. The world became blurry, but she could hear… no she could feel thoughts that were not her own. She looked away from herself, her eyes finding a young Malfoy standing there, a look of disgust on his face. He looked just like in her nightmares, polished, in a fucking suit and with perfect hair watching as if it was entertaining seeing her struggle for her life. She felt his feelings intertwine with her own, barely able to name them… panic and… hopelessness?
A bang came from behind her struggling body and the ornate doors of the Drawing Room opened and the older Malfoy charged in.
"Get the fuck out!"
For a second she just looked at him. His still-perfect jaw his icy blonde hair, and those blue eyes that were so lifeless a second ago, now full of uncontrolled rage.
"Now!'"
She jumped, finally finding a small hole left by him and fighting her way out. They both stumbled as she exited, but he let his grip slacken for one second so she took the opportunity and whipped her hand out of his, and diged her wand right into his jugular. He stopped mid-movement, those blues hiding under the mask bearing into hers as he realized their flipped position. She felt the tears streaming down her cheeks, and the scar on her arm burning as if it had reopened. Her side hurt even more, and all of her strength went into holding herself up, and not showing the weakness in her eyes.
"Fuck you Malfoy" she seethed, letting her hate take over. She wanted to kill him so much. She didn't want to be a murderer, she believed that most people deserve redemption and even those who make mistakes are human. In her heart, she also knew that to every rule there were exceptions, and Malfoy was fucking one of them. She opened her mouth to say it, to fucking end it all but those blues found hers again making her stop mid-movement.
"You deserve to die" she whispered instead and just shot a biding curse at him. He fell to the floor, and she stepped over him and started to walk away, fighting the urge to look back. For some reason she knew if she did, she would see those eyes again, and she was not sure she would be able to walk away again.
She stumbled over debris from old shops, trying to stay upright while clutching her side which was sticky with blood. She didn't dare to look down at her wound, she could feel the blood dripping in between her fingers, and she swore she felt bone. She tried to calculate how much blood she lost and how much time she had before passing out. She knew the incantation to seal her would but she couldn't afford to stop. Duels were happening all around her, and trying to distinguish foes from allies felt more of a challenge than ever. The spells whizzing around her illuminated the path before her. She held her wand out, shakily aiming it at anyone who came too close hoping she wouldn't have to actually use it.
She had to get past the anti-apparition ward, but she didn't know the middle point of it and she was not in the mall enough to navigate in this condition. Her heart pounded in her throat, the surroundings closing in on her. A person materialized in from of her, their wand training right at her. She barely saw anything only the sparkling of the wand, and she was ready to cast, to use the last of her reserves when…
"Hermione!" She looked behind the wand.
"The fuck are you doing here?" Fred exclaimed as he let his wand fall down. Hermione let out a breathless chuckle at his familiar face. She hadn't seen him in months, their missions never intertwining. He was injured, a deep gash decorated the left side of his face, and she noted that he held his wand in his right hand instead of his favoured left. He stepped closer, noticing her injuries for the first time. Hermione quickly shook her head, it was not the time t tell him her story of her injuries. He sidestepped her and he guided her hand over his shoulder, letting her lean on the frame of him.
"It.." she struggled to form words, pressing her side harder "It is a trap" she managed.
"No shit Sherlock" Fred chuckled as he led them through the chaos. He muttered a Notice-me-not spell under his breath, and she prayed nobody would break through it. She stumbled, and she saw a lifeless body staring right back at her. She didn't know them, from the robes she was supposed to be a death eater but the soulless eyes, widened with fear made her stop in her tracks. She was younger than Hermione, maybe barely eighteen with warm honey blonde hair now streaked with blood, and a soft face that would have swooned her all the boys in Hogwarts.
"Come on Hermione" Fred pulled her along, making her leave the girl in the middle of the battlefield "We figured out that it was a trap" he continued " Right around the time a bunch of death eaters showed up screaming bloody murder"
He slowly led her into a side hallway where the cry of battle was muffled. He opened a big blue door with the bearly visible "Women's Restroom" labelled on it, and slowly led her inside. As the door closed behind them almost all of the voices fell away, locking them in a bubble of quiet. She looked around noticing the grimy tiles, the stalls with doors barely hanging on their hinges, the neon lights illuminating them so hard, that she saw black spots again.
"We..We need to" she struggled, sliding off Fred and finding her balance on the dirty sink.
"Get out, yes yes I know" he fumbled with his blooded and rumpled leather jacket as he walked to the other side of the loo. She knew it was his mission gear, black boots, black pants, and his favourite leather jacket that George got her a few Christmases back. The only thing breaking up his image was his fiery red hair, which at the moment was smeared with blood and the phoenix insignia on his jacket. "Can you portkey?" He asked pulling a small object out of his pocket.
"I.." she looked at herself in the broken mirror and froze. Her hair was a mess, standing in every direction full of who knows what. Her clothes were torn and bloody, her coat barely hanging off her. Her hand clutched her side, and she saw the blood seeping through her fingers and dripping slowly onto the floor. Her jeans were torn at her knees, revealing the bloody scrapes in their wake. She could feel her palms burning from the same fall, and if she concentrated enough she could still feel the grip Malfoy had on her minutes ago. She looked at her face last, fearing that she would find there. Her cheeks were sunken in, her skin the colour of paper. Her lips were bloodied, she probably bit them too hard and didn't notice. Her face was smeared with blood and grime hiding her freckles underneath. As she looked into her own swollen caramel eyes, she saw a broken girl staring back at her.
"No.. I-I don't think so" she mumbled, turning away from herself.
"Fuck" he said, looking at her fully and realizing the extent of her injuries "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be in bloody France?" he started pacing.
"I wanted to.. " she put her back to the cold grimly tile, and slowly slid down to the floor "...warn them about the trap." she took a deep breath looking at him with questions in her eyes.
"Ron is the one here" he answered bittersweet. The war changed him too she realized, gone was the easy mischief she always associated with him, his face hardened, and his skills were now used to formulate plans and build devices to aid the Order. He looked at her in a way that made her squirm, and she looked away focusing on the drip, drip, drip of the blood coming from his injured arm.
"How are we going to ge-"
Footsteps sounded through the plastic door of the bathroom. She froze mid-sentence looking at Fred's frenzied eyes, trying to figure out what to do. She was in no condition to fight, and she would slow down Fred no matter how hard she tried to fight. They couldn't hide, her blood was smeared all over the floor, and the small puddle of blood next to Fred was way too obvious even for dumb Death Eaters. If anyone found them here, one spell would be more than enough to kill them both. They were fucking sitting ducks. The steps stopped and Hermione prayed, for all the gods who abandoned them, the ones still there, and for every bigger power on earth.
The steps sounded again and Hermione felt the panic take over. She looked at the door and saw the bloody mark of Fred dragging her in. They left a fucking map of where they were. She could bearly breathe, her luchs were on fire and she moved back, away from the door. Fred stared at her, with so deep pity in his eyes she just wanted the death eater to get there and finish her. She tried to stand, hissing at the movement but Fred motioned her to stop, and slowly began advancing closer to the door. With trembling hand she grabbed her wand, clutching it for dear life. She aimed it approximately at the door, hoping if it came to it, she would be able to at least shoot off a spell, and give Fred enough time to save himself. He looked back at her one last time, before grabbing the doorknob and forcefully yanking it open. She saw movement, and she stilled time stopping for a second. Her mind cleared, her hand toppend and she fired a Stupefy right over Fred's shoulder grazing his left ear. Fred whirled back in surprise just as Hermione heard a familiar voice.
"Geez Hermione" She let her wand drop, clacking on the tiled floor "That almost got me" Ron's head ducked into the bathroom, with a shit-eating grin on his face. He looked bloody and muddy but he looked okay and she felt such a surge of gratitude her eyes almost fluttered close. She was just able to see the smile slip before the darkness took over.
