Requital by Msscribe
Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.
Ships: H/Hr
Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure
Summary: A story of Hermione Granger coming to terms with her greatest loss, finding her own voice and strength, and coming of age in a world battered by a never-ending war.
Disclaimer: No profits are being made off the fiction on these pages. Harry Potter, associated characters and the associated Harry Potter universe is © J. K. Rowling and respective publishers. Fanfiction is fiction--it is not meant to be taken seriously in the least.
Chapter 6 - Gods and Monsters
At 2:23 am, metal slammed against painted glass; there was a gasp from his wife, and then the lights in the Goyle estate flickered off. A familiar face hovered above the startled couple.
The man struggled against his captors, but they managed to drag him through the doorway despite his pleas. On the way to the long black car that was parked in his newly paved driveway, they laughed at his misery, reminding him of his promises and his failure to keep them.
When they had reached their destination, they left him alone in the only room he hadn't visited before. They were hesitant to enter it, shoving him forward and slamming the door behind him while they held their breath. His nostrils burned with the foul odor. Rancid meat? Sulfur? On an instinctual level, he knew what was about to come.
"I've served you to the best of my ability. I swear it." Gregory Goyle said, looking at the dark shadow that seemed to be edging closer to him. Small streaks of weak light came from under the door.
Had his vision adjusted more quickly to the light, he would have seen her pale dead eyes coming towards him.
She struck his face, flailing him backwards. He screamed. He turned to try to flee. It was in vain.
She laughed.
"But you promised…" she said, mimicking the disappointed voice of a child.
He could feel her close to him. Part of him wanted to see her, had to see her. But another part of him, knowing something of the diabolical thing that she was, was grateful for the darkness.
She screeched and hissed, chattering in a language he didn't understand. He cried out again.
She came down on him, tearing into his flesh, he struggled some, and then mouthed a pathetic plea, slumping to the ground as she dragged him deeper into the dark.
She screeched again, happy to be able to feast upon some magical flesh instead of her usual subsistence of mere Muggles.
#
Neville Longbottom was halfway out of the tunnel, on his way to meet his companions at the pancake house, when he heard the hoarse scream. It wasn't shrill or piercing. It was a low and guttural cry that conveyed stark terror.
He froze. Another scream.
He fought against being hit with blind panic.
There were sounds of a struggle, a loud thump, and the slick movement of something being dragged across the ground.
Then something else screeched. It was an unholy, inhuman sound that rattled his senses and left Neville slightly shaky. The foul stench of the tunnel became even more unbearable and he quickened his pace towards the door.
Neville reached out to turn the knob.
"I would think you'd like to at least stay for breakfast. Perhaps get to learn your new position?"
Locust Daviz stood behind him now.
Over the years, Neville had gained a reputation for taking any job, regardless of how dangerous it was. But his fear now made his legs weak. The way Locust stared at him…through him… was making his skin crawl.
" Looking forward to it." Neville said softly, hoping his shaky response would go unnoticed.
Neville reluctantly began the journey back through the tunnel, hoping that soon he could contact Harry.
#
"Planning to spend the rest of the day in bed?" Cho Chang asked, pulling the covers off of a soundly sleeping Hermione, almost sending the startled girl scurrying for her wand.
Hermione released a long sigh and pulled the covers back over her head. Suddenly noticing she was in bed by herself, she sat up again, looking around the room.
"Harry already left. He had to meet his informant and he didn't want to wake you." Cho explained.
Hermione collapsed onto the bed and groaned.
"You mean the bastard didn't want to face me." Hermione muttered groggily. "So what time is it anyway?"
Cho snorted, shaking her head and tossing some clothes at Hermione.
"It's already 1:30 in the afternoon, and we only have another day and a half until we have to meet with Arthur. I suggest you and I try to figure out what happened to us last night. Especially why is it we don't remember how we got back to the bar."
She paused for a moment, grabbing some of Hermione's perfume and spraying a little on her neck.
" I assumed it was a memory charm of some sort but there aren't any side affects like there would normally be. Not even a headache," Cho said, looking puzzled.
Hermione pulled her t-shirt over her head. How was that Cho could stay up all night and still look like a bloody Barbie Doll.
"I'm still tired," Hermione complained.
Cho gave her a serious look, sitting on the bed next to her.
"You'll get used to it."
They were quiet as Hermione continued to dress, catching a quick look in the mirror.
Christ. No wonder Harry left. She was surprised he hadn't run screaming like a banshee.
"So what happened with you and Ron?" Hermione asked, trying to take her mind off of Harry.
Cho stood and laughed, pursing her lips together.
"Absolutely nothing, although it wasn't from his lack of trying," she confessed.
The thought of Ron trying to snuggle up to Cho almost made Hermione laugh.
Hermione tried to organize her thoughts. She'd go to the ministry today to retrieve some old research items, but she wanted to make a quick stop somewhere else first. It probably wasn't smart, but it felt necessary.
"Feel like tagging along somewhere with me?" Hermione asked.
Cho questioned her with a look.
"Please? I don't think I'm up to going alone," she said, hoping for a positive response.
Cho sighed and shrugged her shoulders.
"I suppose, so long as we accomplish what we need to today."
"I swear it." Hermione said.
#
"And so," Draco began, offering a seat at the table for Harry, "here we are again. I hope that you being late wont become a habit Potter. It would benefit you to make these things as convenient for me as possible."
A tiny disdainful smile dimpled the corners of Draco's mouth. Harry thought to himself that it was this sort of smirk that had caused him to break Draco's nose in their fifth year.
"Sorry. It's often hard for me to convince the rest of the world that it should always revolve around your schedule Malfoy," Harry answered, sitting down across from him.
Draco's smile deepened.
"Well, let's get on with it," Harry said, not wanting to drag this on any longer then necessary.
Draco looked around the small Sushi bar. It was crowded enough to block them from being seen from the outside.
"My father came home rattled this morning. All I overhead him telling my mother was that Gregory Goyle was dead. Not that I cared about that bastard. He couldn't even be bothered to come to his own son's funeral. That man's picture should be under the word asshole in the dictionary," Draco said.
Exactly what he thinks of you, Harry thought.
"But I'm sure you're not worried about that," he continued in a soothing voice Harry found slightly repulsive.
"Not at all."
Draco face twisted, but it wasn't hurt or sorrow, it was more confusion than anything.
"My father is never rattled. I've seen him take down creatures as large as this building without so much as a quiver. He screamed at my mother about some book, and then he mentioned the Mudblood's parents. Seems that Goyle ordered the attack on them."
"Hermione's parents? Why?" Harry said, his stomach getting that sinking feeling again.
Draco leaned back in his chair and his eyes narrowed slightly. The waitress came and Harry tried to manufacture a smile. It felt false from the inside, but it must have looked all right to her because she smiled back pleasantly and took Draco's order. Harry ordered a drink and then turned his eyes back to Draco.
"Please continue…what did Goyle fail to do?"
"Don't know. My guess is it was to retrieve or destroy that bloody book. But apparently it was a failure. Looks like they weren't particularly interested in blowing them up. My father said Goyle failed and now it was his responsibility to pick up his pieces. I overheard him ordering his hoods to search another Muggle's house. Apparently she's some relation to Granger. They think whatever book it is might be there. Her name is Lois Mills."
Harry was still recoiling from Draco's last statement as the waitress brought their order.
"They know Hermione's alive. I'm shocked they haven't decided to go after her," Harry said.
Draco grinned.
"I don't know that they haven't. Or perhaps they know she doesn't have what they want and she's unimportant to them. I don't think my father even knows exactly why he needs to get this book."
Every time Draco mentioned his father, Harry cringed. Lucius was untouchable for so long, even after Harry had taken down Voldemort. It was an enormous sacrifice Harry made, allowing Lucius to remain out of Azkaban, in order to keep getting information from Draco. At least Harry had some consolation knowing that Lucius wasn't at the top of this chain of command. That remained unknown. If they had the answer to that, his life would be a whole lot easier.
"When will the attack be launched?"
"Tonight. I overheard them saying they had to wait because of some conflict."
Death eaters with busy fucking schedules, penciling in appointments to kill innocents.
Harry stood, gulping down his drink and nodding at Draco, who seemed busy devouring his lunch.
"I'll contact you," Harry said pulling on his coat.
Draco gave Harry a resentful glance.
"I suppose you and Weasley are off to save the innocent."
Harry waited, looking thoughtfully at Draco. The way Weasley slipped from his mouth, Harry knew what he wanted to ask and spared the pompous git the shame of it.
"I suppose we are…and Ginny is fine."
Draco mustered a grateful look. It clearly took a lot of effort, and not wanting to make the scene more awkward, Harry left him there to finish his meal.
#
The soft dirt beneath Hermione's feet felt a like plush carpet. She thought to herself how inappropriately sunny the weather was today. They had walked only a few steps from where they were parked when they reached her parents grave. Cho was hesitant at first; Hermione could see it in her eyes.
"Relax, no one would ever recognize me like this," Hermione told her.
Cho had understood in the end, and so they now stood there, paying their respects to the two headstones at their feet.
Closure. Without a word, Hermione knelt and began pulling away leaves as Cho stood the flowers they had brought between the two gravesites. The last of the leaves cleared, she looked towards Cho who was standing there reverently. Hermione slowly rose back to her feet.
She felt numb. There weren't any tears, just a sense of finality. She knew Arthur Weasley would be horrified at her taking a risk like this, but she also knew that he himself would likely not have been able to resist. Besides, she had waited almost three months.
There was so much she wanted to tell her them. Her mother would hate her hair. She'd complain that it made her studious daughter look cheap. Her father probably wouldn't notice.
Hey Mom. Hello Dad. I hope God is taking better care of you up there.
Cho put a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder and looked at her with her dark eyes, filled with compassion.
"We shouldn't stay too long."
"I know," Hermione agreed.
They started to walk back to the car. Hermione had done a lousy job of parking, driving partly up onto the curb.
"At least I have a license to drive a Muggle car," Hermione said.
"They must give those things out like candy," Cho said shaking her head. "I think apparating is less risky."
Hermione flashed her a look pretending to be offended.
"To the Ministry then," Hermione declared, getting behind the wheel.
Cho opened the passenger side door and slid in next to Hermione.
"Pray we make it."
#
When Harry repeated what Draco had said to Ron, he fell quiet.
"Any word from Neville?" Harry asked, looking around for a note or an owl.
"Nothing yet."
Harry was concerned, but Neville was smart. He'd been in stickier situations and lived to tell about it.
"Lets go then. We'll need to summon help from the Ministry."
After searching through their directory, Harry had found the address of Lois Mills. He was thankful there was only one listed. Her home was in the heart of Muggle London, so that meant they would need to take Muggle transport. They couldn't risk being seen apparating. Ron grabbed his wand.
"Not that I'm your mom or anything, but you never came home last night Harry Potter," Ron said as they walked quickly towards the train station.
He flushed some, feeling the bottom go out of his stomach as he thought of Hermione. They had to, at least at some point, talk about what happened.
"I think I'm old enough to be out all night."
"But nineteen is still a boy young man," Ron joked doing a very respectable imitation of Mrs. Weasley.
He was right. Nineteen was so young.