There was a lot of noise in the Apparation Room as the small group Hermione had assembled to go to the Malfoy Mansion prepared to leave. Luna had finally come back with Ron in tow, and now it was time to make sure everyone was accounted for before they left.
As much as she hated the fact that there really were Death Eaters organizing out there, the fact that they were going to do something about it gave her a surge of adrenaline that had become a rarity at Claer.
Not that the restful life at Claer was a bad thing, by any means. After all that Harry and the rest of them had endured for seven years, it felt nice to have a bit of peace. Plus, she was finally able to be with Harry, a dream that she had never dared to think would come true, but beyond all reason and all hope, her dream had become a reality. The quiet moments that they shared together still caused her heart to skip a beat.
As if on cue, she saw Harry making his way toward her through the people, the smile that she fell in love with years ago on his face.
"Ready?" she asked, feeling the excitement of a journey about to be undertaken.
"Yeah, I guess we are. Is everyone accounted for?" he asked, surveying the people in the room.
"Everyone's here: you, me, Ron, Luna, Neville, Dean and Callum are all ready."
"Callum?" Harry asked.
"Yes, Callum Taliesin. That dark-haired boy over there," Hermione said, indicating a boy who was talking to Dean and Neville. He was a bit shorter than Harry, with short black hair and sky blue eyes. He was deep in conversation with Neville and Dean, and didn't notice Harry looking at him.
"Why don't I remember him?" Harry asked, clearly embarrassed that he didn't know who he was.
"He joined the DA in the middle of the seventh year. At that point you were so busy that you really didn't have time to go over all the new recruits, so I had to check up on everyone who wanted to join. He handles himself well in dangerous situations, and I've not seen him fall in a fight."
Harry looked at her warmly. "Sometimes I wonder how I ever made it without you."
She smiled in response and shrugged, "It would have been a lot more difficult."
Harry laughed, but then his eyes turned serious. "Hermione, I really can't persuade you to stay, can I?"
She rolled her eyes and said, "Harry, we talked about this all ready. You may need me, and I'm the one who picked all these people to go anyway. I'm going."
Harry no doubt caught the irritated tone in her voice and held up his hands. "Very well, I just thought I'd try one more time."
"You know, you were never this protective during the war," she said, smiling kindly.
"I didn't have as much to lose," he said, and he walked over to Ron, to him something before they embarked on their journey.
She took a deep breath and calmed her annoyed feelings. She knew that Harry just wanted to protect her, and she loved him for that, but she had proven herself more than able to handle a dangerous situation. He just needed to let it go a bit, was all.
Harry at last seemed satisfied that everything was ready, and said in a loud voice, "Everyone set?" and he was quickly answered in the affirmative by everyone there.
"All right, Hermione gave you all the location of the Malfoy Mansion, so let's go!" and with a BANG he was gone.
Hermione uttered the spell, and the familiar rush of a split-second blast of wind hit her before she was standing in the dark night, in the front lawn of a large house. She could all ready see Harry's form, and with a few other loud pops, the rest of the party was there. For a moment, they all stood and stared at the wreck that was the Malfoy Mansion.
The house was a menacing, two-story house that seemed to be a throwback to the old castles of England: it was made of dark stone and the slender windows seemed like the many pitch black eyes of a spider. It appeared to actually loom above them, and she had a brief memory of their visit to the old Riddle House during their seventh year, but pushed the thoughts away. If the Death Eaters were to meet anywhere, this certainly seems an appropriate place, she thought to herself.
The ruins of what had once been ornate oak doors hung ajar in the front doorway, and the wind blew tattered curtains through an empty window. The house had barely been abandoned for a year, but it looks like it's been empty for ages, she mused.
The whole story of the near-end of the Malfoys was an unpleasant one; one that had come to light in bits and pieces during their last year at Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy, who had been in Azkaban during their sixth year had been freed during the following summer, only to be killed by Voldemort's supporters. Most people seemed to think that it was because of the way he botched the attack on the Ministry, which would be more than enough reason for a person with a temper like Voldemort to have someone killed. Nobody knew which of the Death Eaters did it, and it seemed unlikely that anyone would ever know.
From all accounts, her husband's murder and Draco's disappearance after Dumbledore's death threw Narcissa Malfoy into a rage at Voldemort and all of his supporters. Hermione remembered hearing the story, barely whispered in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, of how she had gone mad with the hate and loss, and had attacked a meeting of Death Eaters, killing almost half a dozen before someone finally managed to kill her.
And that left Draco, which few knew anything about. He had vanished at the end of their sixth year and no one had seen him since then. Once he had been cleared of Dumbledore's murder, Snape had been questioned about Draco's whereabouts, but Snape had maintained that it had no bearing on the present affairs, and would not speak a word of it. To this day, no one was sure if Draco Malfoy was alive or dead.
As if they were all mired in the same thoughts, Dean suddenly spoke aloud, saying "Just a family with no luck."
"Maybe they got what they deserved," Ron said, bitterness heavy in his voice. Hermione found herself agreeing with both - certainly the Malfoy family had done its share of evil deeds, but she found herself pitying Narcissa's and Draco's fate.
Dean's voice in the quiet seemed to have shaken everyone out of their stupor and Harry lead the way to the door, his wand drawn. The group fell into single file behind him as he slipped inside the darkness.
Once inside the house, they all faintly lit their wands, and looked in amazement at the scene before them - it looked like the house had been ripped apart. There was broken pieces of furniture everywhere, holes blown in the walls, pages from books strewn about like garbage, and the very air in the house seemed weighed down by dust and stuck in Hermione's throat.
Directly in front of them was a winding staircase that led to the second level, and a door way to the left and right, as well as one behind the stairs. After taking their surroundings in for a minute, Harry said in a whisper, "Luna, Neville, Dean and Callum: you search the upstairs rooms. Ron, Hermione, and I will search this floor. Keep your wands ready and call out if you run into trouble."
The four who were to go upstairs nodded and quietly started picking their way up the staircase, while Ron headed through the doorway to the left, and Harry, quickly giving Hermione's hand a squeeze, moved toward the door behind the stairs. This left Hermione with the right door, which she crept to on cat's feet.
She found herself in what must have been the dining room. There was an enormous table that had been cracked right in the middle, and the pieces of broken chairs laying everywhere. She took a step in and heard a crack, and froze. She looked down and found herself standing on a jagged piece of broken china - the floor was littered with broken pieces of plates, tea cups and glass from the shattered remains of a cabinet. Great, she thought as she began to carefully move into the room. The black wallpaper was peeling in several places, but she noticed that two portraits still hung on the left wall in the center of the room: portraits of Lucius and Narcissa, both with rather unpleasant looking expressions on their faces that could only barely be considered smiles. She shivered involuntarily under their dead gaze and moved on.
She found her way through two more broken rooms, both devoid of any sign of life, when she was forced to make a left into what was undoubtedly the kitchen. Utensils of all kinds, pots and pans were everywhere, and she gave the various knives a look of distrust as she entered. Harry was already standing their waiting, and shook his head at a questioning glance from her.
She came to stand beside him, and in a few moments Ron entered, looking equally disappointed.
"Nothing," he said, walking over to stand next to them.
"Not even nothing," Hermione said. "It doesn't look like anyone's been here for quite some time; there's dust over everything," she said, running her finger along a cupboard and wiping its gray covering on her jeans.
"Maybe we're early, or too late," Harry said, looking about curiously.
"Or maybe Hermione's right and no one's been here," Ron said, not bothering to hide his frustration.
"Could be," Harry admitted. "But if no one's here, I wonder why…" but he trailed off, looking sideways at Ron. Hermione knew what he had almost said, but she knew he didn't want anyone else to know he still received visits from Snape.
Ron looked curiously at Harry, but he just shrugged and said, "Well, let's head back to the stairs. Maybe the others had some luck," but he sounded doubtful. The house had been completely silent, which probably meant that they hadn't found anything either.
Hermione led them out the way she had come, and soon they came to the dining room. As a precaution she pointed out the shattered porcelain and glass on the floor and motioned for them to step carefully. As they gingerly made their way across the room, they again passed under the hanging portraits on the wall.
As they walked by them, she heard Ron swear behind her, and turned to tell him to be quiet only to find him pointing his wand at the picture of Lucius, a look of disgust on his face. Before she could say anything, he muttered a small curse and an orange beam shot towards the picture and hit it right on.
Hermione cringed, awaiting the explosion, but there was only silence. She opened her eyes to find the portrait looking like it hadn't even been damaged. They all looked at each other in surprise, and she made sure to give Ron an annoyed look, when there was a sudden rotating sound, and a panel of the wall right next to the picture swung open, revealing the first steps of a wooden staircase that descended into blackness.
Again Harry took the lead, and they made their way down the stairs, which went down further than she expected, but at last they reached the bottom, only to find a large room filled with stacks of crates.
She went over and wiped the dust off of one, trying the read the writing the box had on it.
"Wine," she said aloud, looking at all the boxes in disbelief. "This is just some kind of wine cellar."
"Bloody family liked to drink, didn't they?" Ron muttered, making Harry laugh softly. Hermione gave them both an admonishing look, and they quieted.
They looked at all the boxes for a minute more before Harry shrugged and said, "We'd better get back. They could be waiting for us."
As they all turned to go they heard, a dry, sarcastic voice behind them say, "Leaving already, Potter? Just when I was wondering if you'd have the brains to find this place."
They turned back to see a very gaunt, grim Draco Malfoy step out from behind a stack of boxes.
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