The Deceiver's Distillation
by Jardyn39
Chapter 14 - The Tower
It took Harry several minutes to wake from his drug induced sleep. For a long while he felt himself induced to swallow, even though his throat was very dry. The bitter taste of the sleeping agent was still a strong taste in his mouth.
He gradually became aware that he was lying on his side, and that there was a small source of light high up in front of him.
He felt incredibly tired, and was sure he had drifted in and out of sleep again several times.
Every now and again, pains would shoot up and down his legs and arms, although he was unable to move at all yet.
After a while, Harry realised that he was lying on the floor of a round, stone walled room. He had no idea how long he had been lying there.
He desperately tried not to think of Hermione. It was enough just to set himself to moving so he could find her. There was no point in agonising over her condition. Well, not yet anyway.
Groggily, Harry found he could at last move his head slightly.
In doing so, a clump of brown bushy hair that was draped over his shoulder brushed his face.
Relief flooded through him.
He could hardly move, but he found himself blinking back tears.
Knowing it would be a while before he recovered, Harry relaxed back and listened intently. All he could hear was Hermione's rhythmic breathing.
As his head began to clear, Harry became aware of the awful, pungent smell that the filthy, ancient blanket he was covered in made. It became an even more urgent priority to move, just so he could throw the ghastly thing off.
He was actually rather grateful that he wasn't wearing his glasses. Then he'd have to see the mould and filth as well.
Gradually, Harry's preoccupation with smells brought a new aroma to his attention.
At first, he only caught occasional wafts of the scent, but it was warm and inviting. He began moving his head as best he was able, taking long, slow sniffs of the air. Every now and again he also caught an unpleasant smell that he was pretty sure was himself. Again, he wondered how long he had been laying there.
To his great frustration, feeling first returned to his limbs in the form of acute pins and needles. He knew it would, having lain for so long on a hard floor, but this didn't make it any more comfortable. He eased his situation by trying not to move until they passed.
Just as he felt he would make a move, Harry felt movement under the blanket.
With a great effort, he shifted his shoulder and lifted the blanket a little to see Hermione's arm relaxed across his chest. He dropped the blanket, breathing heavily through the exertion and closed his eyes, allowing himself a few more moments before confronting the situation they were in.
In his half-dream, half-awake state of mind, several thoughts came and went.
Prominent was Alison's smiling face and her laughter, even in the face of knowing they had little time to live. In the briefest amount of time he had known them, Alison and Jack had touched Harry. He was now sure that it was their love for each other that had really kept them alive for so long.
Hermione's fingers played gently across his skin. She too was beginning to wake.
Without thinking about it, Harry reached up and placed his hand over her forearm. His fingertips rested themselves against warm and soft skin.
Unbidden, the image of another arm draped across a back flashed through his mind.
Harry jumped in shear, blind panic.
It was a few moments before he realised Hermione was trying to calm him down.
"Harry, try to calm yourself," said Hermione, her hand moving from his forehead to his neck. He guessed she was feeling his pulse.
"Goodness, your heart is beating fast," she said with concern.
Harry was gradually getting his breathing under control and the pounding his heart was making was beginning to subside.
"I'm fine. Bit of a shock, that's all. For a moment there, I thought we were-"
"Joined?"
Harry nodded, still breathing hard.
"I'm sorry," he said at last.
"Shh," she said, smiling and wiping his forehead until he calmed.
"Would it have been so bad, being joined to me, I mean?"
"No, Hermione. Although, I might have asked you to cut down on your library time."
Hermione smiled warmly before looking down at his bare chest. Harry looked down and realised he was kneeling in only his boxer shorts.
He looked up to see a blushing Hermione fumbling for the blanket.
"Hermione, that thing is filthy and it's very warm in here. Look, I haven't even got my glasses on. I couldn't stare at you if I wanted."
"I suppose, Harry. Hey, are you squinting at me?"
"I can't see a thing, Hermione, honestly," said Harry with half a laugh. Hermione sat again.
"Why did they take our clothes, though?" asked Hermione.
"I imagine so our Polyjuice impostors can wear them."
"Oh, yes I suppose so. Yes, I can see where they cut your hair."
"Don't worry. I'm sure no one will be fooled for long," said Harry reassuringly. "Hey, what do you think your impostor will do to give herself away?" he added, trying to lighten the mood.
"I don't know," Hermione replied seriously. "They may have prepared very carefully."
"Well, look on the bright side. Ron might get lucky!" Harry said with a laugh.
"Hey," warned Hermione, laughing despite herself, "that's not funny. They might hurt him."
"I can see it now. Harry, why do you keep drinking that Polyjuice Potion because Dad says we should be on the look out for that kind of thing," said Harry in a mock Ron accent.
"No, I'll bet he isn't fooled at all. Just you see, he'll catch them single handed."
Harry smiled and nodded.
"Does it look too bad where they cut my hair?" asked Hermione.
"I can't really tell," he replied without thinking.
Even without glasses, Harry could see the hurt look on Hermione's face at what he'd just said.
He began to say, "Hermione, I'm sorry," but she shrugged him off leaving him feeling uncomfortable and hurt.
Harry looked around for something to distract her from his insensitivity.
"Look, why don't we try to Apparate out of here? Do you feel strong enough yet?"
They tried, and failed.
"Well, that was a weird sensation," said Harry. "I felt like I'd forgotten how to Apparate. I felt nothing but a mixture of fear and lack of confidence."
"Me too. Why don't you try calling Dobby or Kreacher?"
*
Harry squinted up at the high window opening above them. It looked like a square opening about six inches square set in a recess with sloping sides.
"Hermione, if I give you a boost, do you think you could see out of that window?"
"Well, let's give it a try. I may not be tall enough though."
Harry knitted his fingers together and offered his hands as a stirrup for Hermione to step up into.
As Hermione applied more weight, Harry said, "Hang on, Hermione. I just realised I need to have my back to the wall."
"Oh, okay."
They tried again, and this time with his back pressing against the wall, Harry was able to lift Hermione up.
"I can see outside!" reported Hermione. "We're quite high up. I'd guess we are in some kind of tower. I can see some uncultivated grass and there are low hills in the distance. Say if you need a rest, Harry, won't you?"
"No problem," said Harry from below, although he wasn't actually listening to Hermione just then.
"There are a couple of tents right below and there's some kind of circular building that's still under construction. It's like the Arena was, only much smaller. I wonder what it could be? What else is there?" she asked herself, twisting around slightly to see further. "No, just a couple of small carts, that's all."
Hermione looked down and said, "That's it, Harry, I'm afraid. You can let me down now."
"Okay," said Harry, sounding a little strained. "Use your arms to steady yourself on the way down."
Harry lowered her gently.
"Thanks, Harry. Sorry if I squashed you a bit. I felt my thigh push your shoulder, but I wanted to see."
"No problem," replied Harry, sitting down against the wall and drawing his legs up. "Um, tell me again what you saw?"
"Sure," she replied brightly, sitting down closely next to him. Soon she was describing in detail exactly what she'd seen.
Harry still wasn't listening, but his slightly glazed look did begin to clear after a while.
"Harry, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Hermione. Why?"
"You keep rubbing your face."
"I do?" he said, realising he was doing it again. "Um, have you noticed there's no door to this cell?"
"Yes," she replied with a hint of suspicion in her voice.
"And this floor," he continued. "It's made up of large pebbles. The floor is perfectly level but there's no cement. I can get my fingers into some of the gaps but I can't budge any of the pebbles."
They sat quietly for a moment.
"Harry, they can't really be building another Arena out there, can they?"
"It probably is," he replied quietly.
"But why take the risk of being detected again?"
"I suppose it's just arrogance. That and the fact that they've got some prisoners that might make for some decent entertainment."
Hermione kicked the blanket, possibly just out of frustration.
"Hermione, what was that? Something fell out of the blanket!"
Hermione dived over and picked something up. She came over and handed him his wand.
"Harry, this makes no sense. Why leave us our wands?"
"I think it's a message, Hermione. They don't think we can get out, even with our wands."
The first thing Harry did was to conjure some fresh water from the tip of his wand. Hermione drank deeply first, and then Harry quenched his thirst. He was going to drench himself in water, but he found he just couldn't manage it. Something was dampening the magic.
Hermione lit her wand tip and shone the narrow beam upwards into the shadows above them. The stone vaulted ceiling was very high up.
Harry tried to perform several Reductor curses on the stone walls, but they appeared to just absorb the magical energy. He tried the floor too with no success.
Hermione then tried to conjure a fire, but it burned feebly and then died. Fortunately, they didn't need to keep warm. It was becoming increasingly warm inside the cell and Harry found himself sweating profusely.
"Hermione, do you think that whatever is in these stones is preventing us from Apparating out of here?" asked Harry, wiping his hands down his legs. The walls and floor had a strange waxy coating of dirt that transferred itself to them when their wet skin came into contact with the stone. Both Harry and Hermione were becoming more and dirtier, although Harry was sure the dirt wasn't harmful.
"That's possible, I suppose, although I've never read about magical energy dampening fields affecting Apparition. I'd say it was more likely they just built anti-Apparition ropes into the stonework."
*
They remained sat together for several hours and Harry did his best to keep Hermione's spirits up.
Both of them were becoming uncomfortably aware of the increased activity going on outside. From the nature of the shouts reaching their tiny window, Harry knew that whatever their captors had planned for them, it would happen that evening.
After a long silence, Hermione said shakily, "Harry, whatever happens later, you must promise me that you'll buy time for yourself by any means. Remember, you just have to live to fight another day. If we're made to fight each other, I won't resist. Just try and kill me cleanly. That'll spoil their fun."
Harry took hold of her hand and said, "Hermione, you can't be serious. There's no way I could or would ever do that, no matter what. We're getting out of here together, or not at all."
"I'm so scared," she said in a tiny voice.
"Me too," he said gently, "but remember, we may yet get out of this. We just need to take our chance when it comes."
Hermione gave a small nod.
Harry knew that they were both trying to make the best of a bad situation. If they ever got out of there, there would be a reckoning. While there was no chance of escape, of course, neither of them would provoke the other. If they had to die, there was no point in holding a grudge.
*
"Harry, did you see who grabbed me?"
"Um, yes," said Harry, glad of a distraction from the noise outside. "It was Ollivander."
"What?"
Harry then explained how Alison had seen Ollivander and identified him as the Healer before she died.
"So, he was just pretending to be befuddled?"
"Yes, I assume so."
"But why did he kill the Nurse?"
"I imagine so there were no witnesses."
"Harry, are you really sure it was Ollivander that Alison was identifying?"
"Well, he'd gone by the time I looked up, but he was right there. He also kidnapped you, remember?"
"Oh, yes, I suppose there is that."
"You know?" continued Harry, "When he turned, just for an instant, I thought I could feel Ollivander's feelings. He was feeling supreme satisfaction. It could have been his pleasure in their suffering so much or that his handiwork survived for so long."
"That's horrible, but do you think that Voldemort could have been possessing Ollivander at the time?"
"Yes, he could have been," Harry admitted, "but I usually know when Voldemort is close by."
"Can you feel him now?"
"No."
"You're not just saying that not to upset me?"
"Honestly, Hermione. I haven't felt him at all so far," he said truthfully, although he knew Voldemort must make an appearance later then the preparations outside were more complete.
*
It was getting dark now and it sounded like a large and boisterous crowd was gathering outside. The taunts and jeers were definitely being directed at them up in the tower.
Hermione's breathing was becoming short and couldn't help but show how increasingly nervous she was becoming.
The taunts confirmed Harry's fear that they wouldn't be made to fight each other. That wouldn't be nearly cruel enough.
The evening's entertainment would consist of his fighting for Hermione's life. He would fall, of course, but not allowed to die before he had properly appreciated the horrors intended for Hermione.
Harry forced himself not to think about that.
"I do wish we'd learned to teach our Patronuses to take messages," he said lightly.
Hermione gave a nervous laugh, and said, "Of course, they would have to learn to read maps too so they could tell them where we are!"
Harry laughed, knowing that Hermione was forcing herself to sound brighter than she felt.
They didn't have long now.
Harry lifted his wand lazily and said, "Expecto Patronum!"
Harry's stag Patronus almost blinded them. He had wanted it to run outside and give the crowd a scare, but the great stag just stood still, almost filling the circular walled cell.
"Can't it get through the walls?" asked Hermione.
"He isn't even trying."
The stag looked down directly at Harry. He stared back up at it, wondered what this meant.
"Isn't he lasting rather a long time for a Patronus?" asked Hermione.
"Oh," breathed Harry, and his Patronus vanished plunging the cell into darkness again.
"What just happened, Harry?"
Harry jumped up and just as he did so, the floor lurched downwards a few inches.
"Get up!" shouted Harry, pulling Hermione to her feet.
"The floor, Harry!"
"Forget the floor, Hermione," he said, pulling her towards him and wrapping his arms around her.
"Listen to me, Hermione, listen to my voice," he insisted, as the pebbles in the floor began to vibrate.
The floor began to descend again.
"Concentrate. Close your eyes and empty your mind. Try to forget where we are. Listen to my voice. Don't actually try to Disapparate. Just relax your mind."
It wasn't working, Harry realised. Hermione was shaking.
He held the palms of his hands flat against her bare back and held her tightly to him.
"Hold me tight, Hermione," he said, bowing his head down to her shoulder.
A loud shout from below told him that the top of the cell entrance had just been exposed. It sounded like a hoard of Death Eaters were baying for them outside.
"Listen to my voice," he breathed. "Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists."
A euphoric Death Eater forced his way into the small but growing door opening. There were several more behind him, and it sounded like they were fighting amongst themselves to get inside first.
Just at that moment, Harry felt Hermione relax into his arms. She was still holding on tightly, but her mind was now totally fixed upon him.
Harry Disapparated them away at once.
*
Harry was only vaguely aware of the commotion that their sudden arrival in the middle of the Burrow's kitchen.
"Oh, my goodness! Look at the state of them."
Harry felt himself being buffeted and felt Hermione resisting their being pulled apart. His eyes still shut tight, Harry clung onto Hermione.
"Molly, I'm really not so sure you should," began Mrs Granger.
Hermione appeared to relent and Harry relaxed his arms enough to allow Mrs Weasley to force them apart. Hermione was ushered upstairs in a loud kafuffle while Harry was left to stand alone.
He finally opened his eyes to see that his hands were shaking violently.
Harry knew he should feel relief, or something. Anything other than the anger that was coursing through him at that moment. It wasn't a revenge kind of anger, either.
Suddenly the kitchen felt very constrictive and he headed straight for the open door out into the garden and darkness again. A few paces outside, with grass under his feet, Harry gradually became more aware of his surroundings.
Behind him, Ron, Fred and George had followed him outside.
"Where's Dad?" asked Fred unusually quietly.
"He was showing Mr Granger his stuff in the shed," answered George evenly. "Ron, go and get him, will you?"
Harry heard as Ron approached him.
"Ron," warned Fred as Ron touched Harry on his shoulder.
"I just wanted to say well done. I mean, well, thanks mate."
Harry didn't hesitate. He turned and punched Ron square on his jaw sending him flying backwards. In the same instant a smashing noise could be heard from upstairs inside the house.
"Interesting," muttered George, surveying the sprawled figure of his unconscious brother.
There was a loud cracking sound and Kreacher appeared next to Harry. He grabbed hold of his forearm and snapped his fingers.
Harry didn't resist.