Bill and Blaise had been quite civil to each other since
returning from their shift at the mansion. Supper had been eerily
pleasant. The two actually bantered back and forth while Ron sat
knowingly and Ginny caught flies in her open mouth. Ginny was
apprehensive and elated all at once, an odd sensation that was
transmitted to the baby, making it restless. She pressed a hand to
her stomach in an effort to quiet it and smiled as it settled. Bill
had been upset with her choice of partner right from day one. The
Zabini family had quite a reputation in the Wizarding world and it
wasn't good. Not at all. That had been the first of Bill's many
objections. What was it that he'd said so rudely in one letter? Oh
yes, "Once a snake, always a snake." His reasoning had made Ginny
want to thump him. The others were fine with her dating Blaise once
they'd gotten to know him a bit better, and even Charlie far away in
Romania had nothing but good wishes for the couple. He at least
didn't question her judgement the way Bill had.
"Are you going to fill me in on what happened today?" She asked
as she settled clumsily onto the sofa next to Blaise. They'd moved
to the comfort of the sitting room after clearing the table. The
three men exchanged glances and grinned broadly.
"This is killing her, you know." Ron observed.
"I know." Bill and Blaise answered in unison and all three men
dissolved into laughter.
"It's not funny!" Ginny protested, indignant.
"You want to see your face, Ginny," Ron told his sister, "it's
been a picture since we all got back."
"It's okay, love," Blaise took her hand in both of his own, wide
grin still gracing his mouth, "we settled our differences and even
did it without resorting to fisticuffs or hexes."
"Really? With no hard feelings remaining or anything?"
"I saw the measure of the man today, Gin." Bill informed her.
"And I'm impressed." Ginny looked over at Blaise to see he was
embarrassed. She squeezed his hand.
"I'm also sorry I acted like a complete git," Bill continued,
"but… but with Dad gone I feel like I've got to look out for you and
when you sent news of your relationship with a Slytherin, and a
Zabini at that…"
"It's okay Bill, I understand. You're irrational when it comes to
your baby sister. Say no more." Ginny smiled widely at her brother
as she cut him off, sparing him from having to continue his stumbled
apology.
"All right, who's for tea?" she asked them as she conjured a
teapot and tray of cups from the kitchen. Three heads nodded. "Let's
hear how your shift went, then," she prodded as she poured a cup for
each of them.
Severus apparated straight to Snape Castle once he had retrieved
his wand from the bumbling Gregory Goyle and left the brothel. It
was just past 10 p.m. when he arrived and he was glad he'd be able
to wash and change before heading out to work on the wards with Miss
Patil. He was very fastidious--contrary to the popular belief of the
student body--and had no desire to show up for his shift smelling of
the musky and unmistakable scent of sexual activity. He doubted
they'd appreciate it, even if they already knew where he'd been.
He had been very calm when he left the brothel, unlike the
staggering wreck he'd been when he'd entered it. Something had
happened between himself and Miss Granger that stabilised the bond
the Vestigium Teneo potion had forged between them. It was like
something had clicked into place. Yes, he felt her tickling at the
back of his mind still, but it wasn't as distracting as before. Now,
strangely enough, it was comforting to have her there--nipping at
the edges of his consciousness. Of course, the fact he was so far
away from her at the moment probably counted for something, but he
wasn't going to analyse it. It was better not to think about it at
all. He called for the house elf who acted as his valet when he was
in residence at the family home and set about making himself
presentable - an absolutely damnable task when he was just about
keeling over from lack of sleep. Before he hit the shower he downed
another restoration potion. Six in the past 2 days, he
thought to himself; not good…he'd burn out soon if he didn't get
a decent night's sleep.
A naked and bruised Lavender was floated through the room door by
the guard and deposited unceremoniously on top of her bed when he
ended the spell while she was still a foot above the mattress. He
leered at Hermione and copped a feel of her breasts as he brushed
past her to leave the room, twisting one of her nipples cruelly. She
bit back the urge to kick him in the arse as he let go and turned
toward the door.
After the bolt shot home, she scrambled to her friend's side and
took one of her hands in her own. At her touch, Lavender opened her
eyes--deep set in purple-black sockets. There was such a haunted
look in them that it made Hermione shiver. What had that bastard put
her through?
"Hi," Lavender greeted in a broken voice.
"Hi," Hermione answered, trying to force a smile onto her lips.
"It's okay, you don't have to pretend. I know I look like death
warmed over." The blonde girl rasped.
"You look in better shape this time than last. How do you feel?"
"Weak as a new born kitten." Lavender admitted, shaking as she
tried to get up. Hermione moved to help her sit, propped on the thin
pillows from both their beds. "He didn't break my bones this time."
she informed her friend. "I don't know… am I supposed to be
grateful?"
"You don't have to be anything, but please don't think I'm
terribly selfish because I'm grateful you're back here with me."
Hermione admitted, filling the awkward silence that had followed
Lavender's question. A slight smile graced Lavender's lip for a
second, but was gone so quickly that Hermione wondered if she'd
really seen it.
"I wanted him to kill me so badly, but he wouldn't do it. He knew
I wanted to die. Every time I fainted from the pain, he revived me.
He'd make me ride it out while he fed off me." She noticed the look
of sheer horror on her friend's face and clarified with a laugh that
cracked in her throat. "Ever been stretched on a rack, Hermione?
Like the way the Muggles tortured some of us in the middle ages?"
She didn't stop for an answer, "I know how that feels. How about
thumbscrews? Or hot pokers?" With every question she asked in her
trembling voice, Hermione found it harder and harder to keep her
composure and soon she was weeping openly as her friend spoke of her
suffering at the hands of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. "You name it and
chances are he did it to me." Lavender's voice diminished. She fell
silent for a moment and the only sound in the room was Hermione,
hiccoughing as she wiped her eyes and tried to collect herself.
"He wouldn't let me cry out. He bound me in such a way I couldn't
struggle." Lavender's eyes were rimmed red, but dry--she couldn't
cry--she'd already exhausted herself under Voldemort's knife.
"He cut me here," she swept a hand from sternum to
naval--unembarrassed by her naked state--pointing out,
matter-of-factly, the faint scar that even magical healing could not
erase, "slowly--he was relishing it so much it made me sick to look
at him--and plunged his hands inside me." Hermione whimpered at
Lavender's blunt retelling of what had happened. "It was then he
told me I could scream. Sweet God, it was like a dam bursting. I
screamed myself raw in a matter of minutes while he stood there,
bloodied to the wrists and laughing at me. He wouldn't let me pass
out, and he didn't kill me. Why didn't he kill me?" Her voice had
risen with the last question and taken on a hysterical edge. "No… he
raped me again and again, smiling as I lay bleeding under
him--cradling my face with hands covered in my own blood--then
healed me and sent me back to wait for the next time." She trailed
off and buried her face in her hands, muttering incoherently.
"Sshhh…" Hermione sat next to Lavender and swept her into a hug,
using one hand to smooth her hair soothingly. It was a gesture she
hoped would comfort herself as much as her friend.
Colin Creevey was prowling Knockturn Alley disguised as an
unsavoury-looking wizard. He wasn't garnering more than a few
glances in his direction and those eyes tended to slide over him
quickly, which was exactly how he wanted it to be. His friends would
probably be surprised at how often he visited the more seedy
locations in Wizarding London, but he always gathered a lot of
information when he was here. His cousin Liz was a make-up artist on
contract at Leavesden Studios. She'd worked on a number of James
Bond and Star Wars movies. When he wanted a disguise and didn't want
to resort to a Polyjuice potion, he'd visit her and she'd transform
him into whoever he felt like being. It was a handy bit of Muggle
magic that served him well. It enabled him to enter the
establishments where you had to pass through a magic detector that
disabled magical disguises. He wasn't under any glamour, but he
wasn't himself--The best of both worlds when you thought about it,
even if he was decked out as one ugly git. Tonight he was heading to
The Chimaera, a pub that was a favourite spot for young witches and
wizards of questionable moral fibre to hang out in. He'd picked up
many an interesting morsel of gossip for the resistance while
sitting in the shadows there, nursing a firewhiskey and listening to
the loose tongues wagging and bragging.
Whenever he came here, he wore the same disguise. One that showed
the world a short, very homely looking man with acne scarred skin
and a nose that had been broken and badly set. He'd comb his hair
through with a bit of olive oil to make it darker and lank and wore
caps on his teeth that gave him a very crooked and unappealing
smile, inspired by the dentition of one Marcus Flint, troll-spawn
extrordinaire. His only regret in coming to The Chimaera was that it
meant he had to leave his camera at home. It was a pity really, when
he thought of all the really interesting shots he could have
snapped. He paid for his glass of firewhiskey and moved to sit in
his usual corner, alert to all the goings on around him. All the
usual depravities and same old jokes. He sighed. It never changed.
Every night it was the same old shite. To say the clientele here had
stunted personalities was an understatement.
He looked up from where he sat as the door to the pub slammed
open and a belligerent looking Draco Malfoy stalked through it and
strode straight over to the bar, slamming a fist down loudly on the
polished surface and demanding to be served in an angry
voice--glaring at the suddenly nervous Barkeep as he stumbled over
himself in his rush to comply.
Well, well, well…" Colin murmured to himself. If this wasn't an
interesting turn of events, he didn't know what was.
Severus was not very happy… not happy at all… His stomach was
doing cartwheels and manic summersaults thanks to the dual influence
of the bobbing boat and the feeling of general malaise channelled
through their link by Miss Granger. The night was chill and the
edges of the warming charm they'd cast--before obscuring the boat so
it wouldn't be seen by anyone on the Island--were beginning to fray.
His nerves were also beginning to fray. Before he had left the
brothel, he had asked Hermione to stay awake as long as she could
and not fall asleep for at least the next five hours. She had told
him there would be no fear of that. She was too worried about Miss
Brown. And who could blame her? He was having trouble dealing with
everything that was going on himself.
He glanced up at Miss Patil, standing braced in the prow of the
small boat, hands engaged in an arcane dance with the night air and
lips moving as she whispered the incantation to break the specific
ward she was working on. They had been taking turns at unravelling
the web hanging around the small isle and the work was going well,
if still a little slower than they wanted. He turned and cast a
speculative eye towards Harry, standing by the small mast watching
the coastline with a frown on his face, wand folded in his arms.
He'd insisted that each duo of curse-breakers take a third member
with them--a duelist to watch their backs as they worked. Ron had
guarded Bill and Blaise; Sirius had been sentinel for Remus and Cho
and Fred had stood point for Penny and Neville on their shift.
"Better safe than sorry." was the war cry of the resistance.
Harry turned around in time to see Snape throw his hands up to
his head and grit his teeth.
"Hsssst…" he sucked in his breath as he rubbed his temples. Miss
Granger was weeping and utterly drowning in despair. He couldn't
handle the intensity of the emotions. He was sure his skull would
split from it all.
Harry watched Snape struggle to compose himself and moved to
crouch down next to where he sat. "Are you okay?" he asked, prepared
for a snapped response from the Headmaster.
"I'm not sure," Severus managed after a moment. "Sweet Merlin."
He hissed through clenched teeth as another wave of her emotions
crashed over him. He felt helpless, adrift in a sea of sorrow that
was for once not of his own making. He was swiftly making it his
own, though.
"Headmaster?" Harry touched Snape's arm--even more worried now
than he had been a second before--and Severus snapped back to
reality. "What's wrong?"
"I'd venture to guess that Miss Brown is back, as Miss Granger is
extremely upset right now."
"You can tell?"
"This close, there's no mistaking it." He answered shortly,
fingers still kneading hard at his temples.
"Is it bad?"
"A question that stupid doesn't dignify a response." Severus
retorted, hissing through clenched teeth.
"Touché, you grouchy old bastard!" Harry snapped. "And it wasn't
stupid. I'm only trying to help, talk to me for God's sake!" He was
rewarded with the Headmaster glaring daggers at him down his nose.
"If you two are quite finished?" They were interrupted by Padma,
who had been distracted from her work by their exchange (luckily,
after she'd tied off another ward). Harry threw her a look and she
came to hunker down next to him, taking a moment to find her balance
in the bobbing boat. "Is it as bad as I think?"
Severus managed a nod as another surge of Hermione's emotions hit
him. Harry and Padma waited patiently for Snape to gather his
senses. They had no choice. Padma was already exhausted and Snape
was up next. They couldn't do it without him.
"Can you tell us what it feels like?" Padma asked, hoping to
distract him.
"Absolute Hell and rather overwhelming… it's hard to describe."
Padma was surprised he'd answered. She hadn't been expecting him
to tell her anything other than 'Sod off!' "Do you think you'll be
able to fight it off enough to function? We can always call the next
team in early if we have to."
The withering look of disdain she received for her suggestion
made her grin. "Why am I not surprised?" She stood up, turned and
murmured a spell, causing the shimmering network of wards to glow
red, a malevolent net cast into the sea by in the night sky. Padma
was proud of the progress so far. It was difficult work yet they'd
dug quite a nice little hole in the thing, as evidenced by the patch
of darkness in the web of light.
"I'll finish up the next two... Then it's your turn." She told
him matter-of-factly. Padma knew better than to be sympathetic with
Snape. Stiff upper-lip was much more his style. Stiff, sneering
upper-lip, to be exact. She relaxed as he nodded, glad to note he
looked more in control already, and shook the fatigue off in an
attempt to stop it from settling more firmly in her bones.
Padma turned her back on the Headmaster to give him the privacy
he needed to collect himself, moved to the prow of the boat and
began to follow the knotted lines of the next ward after using a
charm to change its colour so that it stood out from the rest. She
felt Harry at her side and turned her head a little to look at him.
He was smiling at her and she smiled back as she began unravelling
the ward.
Narcissa couldn't stop her hands from trembling. It had been an
hour since Draco stormed out of the house and even though she had
restored the Ming vase to its former glory, she wasn't able to say
the same thing about her nerves. She bit back the bile that rose in
her throat at the thought of how angry Lucius would be. It made her
sick to think she would have to be the one to break the news of
their son's behaviour to her husband. Why did this have to happen?
The question was rhetorical as she already knew why--her son had
done the unspeakable and fallen in love with a Mudblood, a whore,
nonetheless. That had to be it. Why else would he behave the way he
did at supper tonight? Why else would he be watching her tryst with
Severus in his father's mirror? She knew Lucius used it to gain an
upper hand on his unsuspecting enemies. Why had Draco been using it?
He'd been so startled and upset that she'd walked in on him, she'd
seen it on his face. She knew that look well. It was one he'd worn
every time he'd done something wrong as a child and been caught at
it. It had been many years since she'd seen it, though, as he'd
become adept at hiding his true feelings behind a mask of stoicism.
An arrow of fear stabbed through her as she paced back and forth in
her suite of rooms. Lucius could read her like a book so there was
no way she could sweep it all under the rug and forget it had ever
happened. He'd know there was something wrong the minute he laid
eyes on her. She buried her face in her hands and sighed long and
deep.
Colin sat hidden in the shadows of The Chimaera and watched in
open-mouthed fascination as Draco Malfoy officially lost it. He'd
seen flashes of his volatility first hand at Hogwarts over the
years, but Malfoy had kept his nose clean since the war had been
won. He was being groomed as the crown-prince and had acted
accordingly. At least in public, anyway. Who knew what went on at
those private parties his father hosted at Malfoy Manor? Colin
remembered Draco's little display in the family statuary a few days
ago--a scene he'd seen played out over and over again, thanks to his
new film and developing techniques--and wondered if he'd been in a
permanent state of anger since then. The dark circles under his
light eyes spoke volumes.
A witch of the groupie/social climbing sub-genus had come up to
the table where Malfoy had sat down to nurse the bottle the
bartender had given to him. She was a pretty girl, if harshly
made-up, with dark curly hair. She'd sat down across from Draco and
reached a hand out to touch him and get his attention. Colin had
winced as he took in the scene unfolding in front of him. He knew
the foul mood Malfoy Jr. was in. Draco slapped her hand away from
him roughly and when she opened her mouth to complain about his
behaviour, he dashed the contents of his glass into her face,
smiling cruelly at her as she sputtered and reddened.
"Don't ever presume to touch me." He snarled in a dismissive tone
that let her know exactly what he thought of her.
"You bastard!" She launched herself at him, hissing and spitting
like a scalded cat.
A second later she found herself slamming into the wall behind
the bar, blown back by a curse hurled at her by Draco. As she
crumpled to the floor behind the bar amidst the wreckage of bottles
and pooling spirits, some of the patrons decided it was time to take
their leave and headed towards the door. Before they could make
their escape, Draco slammed and locked the doors out of the bar with
a flick of his wand, trapping them in the entryway. They slowly
turned and looked at him, fear shining in their eyes. It wasn't wise
to raise the ire of a Malfoy.
"Leaving, were we?" He asked them. They shook their heads
vigorously in denial, unable to find their voices. "Good. Have a
seat!" He gestured to the benches and chairs they'd vacated and they
slid back into their places, staring at him in wary fascination. He
was the very epitome of a rogue Bludger. No one in the room had any
idea what direction he would head off in next. He paced back and
forth across the room, all the pent up rage and anger seething from
him like steam from a bubbling cauldron.
Colin was reminded of the big cats at the Zoo in Regent's Park,
pacing back and forth behind the bars of their cages. The feeling of
fear gnawing in the pit of his stomach was similar. He'd always
worried when he was still in primary school that the bars wouldn't
hold and the graceful predators would break out and devour everyone,
starting with him. Looking at Draco, he realised he was worried
about same thing happening here and sank as far back into the
shadows as he could.
"Sit down!" Draco fired off a Jelly-Legs Jinx in the direction of
a woman who was trying to sidle along the wall in the direction of
the women's toilets. He smirked as she collapsed on the spot and
started hyper-ventilating, her sobs strangled and staccato.
Draco's eyes lit upon an older bar patron. The man was pale
skinned and fair-haired and the reproving look on his face reminded
him so much of the one he frequently got from his father. He watched
him for a while as he continued to pace, a sneer appearing on his
lips as the frown lines on the older man's face deepened. Colin
jumped as Draco suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the blonde man
by the front of his robes.
"You think you're so fucking perfect, don't you?" he asked his
bewildered captive.
"I… I don't know… wh-what you mean," the man stuttered in a
shaking voice.
"Always sitting there, judging me. I've never been good enough
for you, have I?" Draco stroked the side of the man's face with his
wand, eliciting a whimper from him.
"I… I don't know you, except for what I read in the p-papers."
The man stammered out, his voice unnaturally high.
"No matter what I do, it's never enough, " Draco continued. Colin
wondered if he'd even heard the man's reply. "You've never let me
make my own choices, have you? You've always made them for me, like
I'm too stupid to do anything myself. Your very own puppet on a
string. You think I didn't know what everyone thought of me when I
was growing up? There's not an original though in his head, that was
a common one. I never had any real friends either, you bought them
all--every single last one of them. What did they really care about
me as long as you were satisfied?" The man didn't answer, he just
shook his head slowly and carefully. There was a wand jammed under
his jaw bone and it hurt. "And now you've gone and taken the one
thing that I enjoy--the one thing I love--away from me and given it
to Snape."
"You…You've gotten me confused with someone else." The man tried
to reason with Malfoy. "I haven't taken anything from you. I don't
know you." His voice was pleading.
"You're right there. You don't know me at all--if you did,
you'd be aware of just how much I hate your fucking guts." Malfoy's
eyes darkened murderously and the man began to struggle as he read
the intent in them.
"Let me go, please, just let me go."
"I'll let you go all right… straight to Hell where you belong!
AVADA KEDAVRA!" He screamed. Draco's captive audience moaned in one
collective voice as a green light enveloped the man he held by the
neck. His victim's eyes widened and his features contorted into an
unsettling rictus of fear before he slumped to the table, suddenly
heavy in death. One of the women at the next table started to scream
and cry. Malfoy loosened his grip on the front of the corpse's robes
and turned to focus on her.
"Will you shut up!" He commanded shrilly. He muttered a spell and
the woman quieted--but she'd had no choice as he'd taken her mouth,
leaving behind a sealed expanse of skin where it used to be. Her
eyes bulged and she clawed at her face with her fingers. Colin felt
sick to his stomach and fought down the nausea rising in his throat.
Everyone was startled when the heavy oak doors Draco had
magically locked were blown off their hinges and into the bar in
hundreds of pieces. When the dust and debris settled, it revealed a
very angry looking Lucius Malfoy standing in the ruined entranceway,
flanked by two masked Death Eaters.
"Jesus Christ!" Colin swore under his breath as the elder Malfoy
strode into The Chimaera and coldly surveyed the damage his
offspring had done.
"Are you stupid, boy?" He asked his son in clipped and
condescending tones. Draco just glared and raised his wand to point
it at his father. "You'd dare raise a hand against me?" Lucius
asked, incredulous.
"Tarantallegra!" Draco hurled the hex at his father. Lucius
side-stepped the spell, which ended up hitting one of his lackeys
instead The masked Death Eater lurched around the room in a
grotesque ballet. At any other time it would have been funny.
"Expelliarmus!" Lucius called, a creepy smile gracing his
features as his son's wand flew across the room and into his
outstretched hand. Draco was momentarily taken aback after his
father successfully disarmed him but recovered his wits quickly
enough to pick up a chair and hurl it across the room at Lucius. A
flick of the senior Malfoy's wand was all it took to redirect the
chair so that it smashed harmlessly into the stone wall to his
right.
"It appears that you need to be taught a lesson. Remember that
you brought this upon yourself." Lucius crossed the room, grabbed
his son by the collar and pointed his wand at his chest.
"Crucio."
Draco immediately dropped to the floor and writhed around in
agony, moaning from the pain but unwilling to ask for his father to
forgive him and remove the spell. He'd rather be driven mad by the
curse than do that. Lucius stood watching him for a few minutes,
waiting for his son to break. It didn't happen.
"Bring him!" he snapped angrily at the Death Eater standing
behind him.
"Mobilicorpus." The figure intoned as he suddenly jumped to life.
Draco's spasming body was levitated off the floor and floated
through the smashed doorway of The Chimaera as Lucius strode over to
his hexed henchman and ended the spell that had been causing him to
dance unceasingly. The masked man dropped to his knees and muttered
his thanks gratefully before gathering himself up to stand behind
his boss as if nothing had happened.
Lucius swept his gaze around the room. "If one word of what went
on here tonight reaches my ears through a third party, I'll have you
all hunted down and imprisoned--if I don't decide to kill you
instead. Do I make myself understood?" The remaining bar patrons
knew better than to invite that kind of trouble on themselves and
nodded, murmuring their agreement.
"Good." As he walked towards the door, he gestured to the
bartender who had finally come out from his hiding place under the
polished bar. "Clean this mess up, there's a good fellow." A small
pouch of Galleons landed with a jingle on the countertop in front of
the man, but he didn't move to touch it, preferring to watch
Malfoy's retreating form as he stepped outside the door and
disapparated. Once Malfoy and the Death Eaters were gone, the
bartender turned and looked around the room at everyone.
"Go on, get out of here so I can clean up, and mind what the
Minister said and keep your mouths shut and your noses clean." There
was a rush for the exit and soon the only ones remaining in the bar
were the bartender, the corpse of the blonde man, the sobbing woman
with no mouth and Colin Creevey.
"What about her?" Colin asked the barkeep as he stepped out of
the shadowed corner where he'd been sitting.
"I haven't a clue. Maybe you could see her to St. Mungo's?
They'll probably know what to do about it."
"I suppose." He walked over to where the woman sat slumped,
blowing her nose with a sodden hankie and making inarticulate sounds
in her throat. "Come on, love, let's get you some help." She looked
up at him for a moment before taking his outstretched hand.
As he escorted the hapless woman to the Hospital for Magical
Maladies and Injuries, Colin kept playing the evening's events over
and over again in his head and wondered what Harry and the others
would think of his news. He'd never thought much about why Draco was
the way he was. He'd always figured that what was in the marrow was
hard to take out of the bone and that Draco Malfoy was someone
beyond redemption. Now he didn't know what to make of things. Lucius
Malfoy had a lot to answer for.