The Unfortunates

Back with another chapter now! May not be the most exciting one so far, but believe me when I say the next one will! ;) Anyway, read and review...:

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CHAPTER THREE: PROFESSIONALISM


Hermione made her way to The Leaky Cauldron around half past eight that evening, her mind set to make sure Malfoy had indeed asked for her and Mandy at Lilly Barrette’s.

She got the answer to that soon enough, as Tom enthusiastically waved her over when she entered.

“Hi there, Mira!” he grinned.

“Hullo, Tom,” smiled Hermione.

“You’re one popular girl around here, aren’t you?”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “I am?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” Tom confirmed. “Around five today, that Lilly Barrette lady dropped by... Was asking for you and your friend Mandy.”

“She was?” said Hermione joyfully.

“Indeed she was,” he nodded. “Wanted you to drop by there some time soon.”

“Well, I’ll certainly be doing that!” said Hermione happily. So Malfoy had done his job, then! Wonderful... As much as she still loathed him, she was seriously tempted to show him later that night how grateful she was. If things worked according to plan now, Hermione and Mandy would be free of that horrid Mr. Warren once and for all.

Tom sighed then, his gaze dropping from Hermione to the bar disk. “Look, Mira,” he said heavily, “I don’t like this idea of yours.”

“What idea?”

“You know perfectly well – this idea of yours and Mandy’s to get into Lilly Barrette’s... I know you’re in a tight spot, Mira, but this is no way of fixing it!” He sighed again, and lowered his voice considerably. “Oh, it just hurts me so to see young women such as yourselves degraded to what you are now... And it’s all those bloody Death Eaters’ fault... No consideration whatsoever for the normal, hard-working people...”

“Relax, Tom,” said Hermione quickly, patting his arm and looking around her, making sure no one had overheard him. “We’re doing all right. Could be worse, right? He could be dead, after all.”

Tom didn’t need to ask who “he” was. Whenever Hermione spoke of a “him” that was no one in particular, she always meant Harry Potter.

“Right,” Tom nodded, his gaze back on Hermione. “You’re right. I just pray things will improve. Future looks bleak, you know?”

“Stop thinking like that,” said Hermione. “You’re starting to sound like Mandy.”

Tom smiled at that.

“Well!” he said. “Before I forget, there was someone else here looking for you, apart from that Barrette woman. Yesterday, this was.”

“Who?” asked Hermione.

“Didn’t know the man,” replied Tom. “Looked foreign to me. Was mostly hidden in the shadows of his cloak and hood, though – looked suspicious, and I wouldn’t be telling you about him if it weren’t for the name he gave me.”

“What name?”

Tom leaned in a bit closer to make sure no one could overhear him.

“Granger,” he said. “Tiberius Granger.”

Hermione blinked.

“His name was – was Tiberius... Granger?” she asked, trying to sound unaffected.

“That’s what he said,” confirmed Tom. “Said he was interested to talk with you about something. Don’t know what, though.”

Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn’t think of any relative of hers who’d be walking into The Leaky Cauldron, and much less of one named Tiberius.

“Why,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “why would you trust this man just because he said his name was Tiberius Granger? Who’s that?”

Tom hesitated. “Well,” he said at last, “I didn’t really expect you to know the name... Mandy’s been saying you went to some school abroad...”

Hermione didn’t object to that – she was happy to have the rumour encouraged.

Tom was lowering his voice again.

“But Granger was the name of one of his best friends,” he whispered. “Hermione Granger, was her name... Don’t reckon you’ve heard of her...?”

Hermione shook her head.

“No,” she said steadily. “Never heard of her.”

“Well, she was a great girl,” said Tom, his eyes glittering with memories. “Stayed here a few times with him and his other friends before they went back to school... Always so nice and polite. I really wonder what’s happened to her... She’s on the wanted-posters, you know.”

“Really?” said Hermione. “I haven’t really paid much attention to those.”

“Well, you see, I figured if this Tiberius bloke was a relative of hers, he’d be alright,” continued Tom. “He didn’t look all that trustworthy, as I said, but if he’s her relative he might know where she is... And maybe she knows where – er... well, you get the idea?”

Hermione nodded. “So... What did this Granger man want with me, exactly?”

“Didn’t say specifically,” said Tom hesitantly. “Said he wanted to meet you... Seemed interested in your – er – relations with Mr. Malfoy, too.”

Hermione frowned. Who could this man be? He was no more a Tiberius Granger than she was a Mira Gideon, that much was for certain. But why had he chosen that name? Of all names, why hers?

Was it possible he knew who she really was?

Perhaps he was of the enemy, ready to blow her cover unless she did anything he asked of her... Tom the innkeeper didn’t seem too worried, but then again, he didn’t know the whole story – he didn’t know that there was no relative of Hermione Granger’s who went by the name of Tiberius.

Hermione felt a tingle of fear form at the pit of her stomach as her thoughts on this “Tiberius Granger” developed. Should she perhaps run off; go into hiding for a while? The last six months had taught her a thing or two about how to stay alive: being paranoid was no longer a negative ability.

“So – how did this Granger man say he was going to get in touch with me?” asked Hermione.

“He didn’t say,” replied Tom. “Just said I was to let you know he was asking for you.”

Hermione relaxed a little at this – okay, so at least he wasn’t coming for her. That was some good news, wasn’t it? At least it gave her some time... Time to think it all over, perhaps consider keeping a low profile for a while...

Her trail of thoughts was abruptly interrupted.

“Mira,” drawled a voice from behind Hermione, “what a coincidence to run into you here, the second night in a row! You must really like this place?”

Malfoy winked in acknowledgement to Tom, who forced a smile.

“Mr. Malfoy,” said Hermione happily, turning to him, grinning. “I hear you did me a nice favour today?”

“Yeah, I did,” nodded Malfoy, his arm reaching up to let his fingers walk lightly across her upper arm. “I take it you appreciated that?”

“I really did,” smiled Hermione.

“Which means you now have time for me, right?”

“Very much so.”

If her efforts helped her obtain her goal, Hermione was willing to let Malfoy thoroughly enjoy the evening as a small thanks – even if he was a real son of a Death Eater bastard.

--

They had snuck out very early in the morning – around 4:30 AM, as Mr. Warren and the rest of the inn lay fast asleep. Hermione and Mandy had made their way out of the basement with their trunks, walking on tiptoe up the creaking stairs and out the front door and into freedom.

Well, it’s all relative – “free” wasn’t really a term frequently used to describe the women who lived and worked at Lilly Barrette’s, but at least it was better than living at Warren’s.

The “pub” (brothel, really) owner had been most enthusiastic about Hermione and Mandy. They’d dropped by her place the day following Hermione’s last escapade with Malfoy, and she’d been more than satisfied with their attitudes and the clients they could brag about. For Hermione especially was this the case; she’d had almost a dozen high ranking Death Eaters coming for her at some point – mostly thanks to Malfoy’s generous recommendations.

In the end, he’d served some purpose after all.

The thought kind of made Hermione smile – oh, if only he’d known he had saved Hermione Granger from the wrath of a man like Mr. Warren! But he thought he’d saved Mira Gideon, and she really preferred it that way.

It was still dark outside, but one could tell morning was approaching. There was even the occasional witch or wizard out in the streets, perhaps out to get to work early or to enjoy the quiet morning, who knew...

Hermione and Mandy, for one, were out early simply to escape having to pay their landlord the money the owed for the horrible room in the basement.

They reached House of Lilly Barrette’s after a ten minute walk, and slipped silently inside. The pub room was completely silent, save for the sound of a crackling fire. By it, at the far end of the room, sat Lilly Barrette herself.

“There you are,” she said as they entered, without bothering to look at them.

“I apologize again that we had to arrive so early,” said Hermione, dropping her heavy trunk unceremoniously on the floor.

“That’s quite all right, my dear,” said Barrette, and now she stood from her chair and came over to them, her fake smile never leaving her pretty face. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

She led them up a rickety, spiral staircase which was located in a corner of the room. They reached the first floor, and Barrette waved them eagerly down a long, dark corridor. At the far end of it, she stopped in front of a door, opening it.

“Here’s your room, darling,” she smiled and held out a hand, gesturing to enter.

Hermione made to go in first, but she was stopped by the hand held out by Lilly Barrette.

“No-no, dear,” she explained, “this room’s for your friend.” Her gaze fell on Mandy, who raised an eyebrow quizzically at Hermione.

Hermione just shrugged. Perhaps they even had individual rooms here? Not bad... And, although it was dark, by the look of it these rooms seemed far more adequate than those provided by Mr. Warren.

Mandy picked up her trunk and went into her room.

Barrette, who did not bother to wait for any sign of approval from Mandy, simply waved an impatient hand at Hermione, and led the way up another set of stairs, and then another, and another... Hermione was starting to wonder if she’d counted correctly the number of floors on this house from the outside, when at last they reached the top.

This floor held a much shorter corridor than the previous, and there were only four doors here. Barrette opened the first one on the left to Hermione.

“And here’s yours, my sweet,” said the brothel keeper, gesturing for Hermione to entered. She did so.

It was really a lovely room – more beautiful than Hermione could ever have anticipated. The bed was an enormous four-poster, covered in scarlet silk, with a nice pile of fluffy pillows at the far end. And apart from the bed, there was a big rug on the floor, which lay in front of a hearth at the left hand side wall, two chairs and a small table, and a rather large wardrobe on the right hand side.

“This is amazing,” said Hermione, her trunk dropping to the floor by her feet.

“Glad you think so,” smiled Barrette. “Now, get some sleep. The bathroom’s on the floor just below us, if you need use of it. And in the morning, I’ll have one of the girls give you all the rules and routines and such.”

“Yes – thank you,” said Hermione absently, her eyes still scanning the lovely room.

Then, as she heard Barrette made to leave, she quickly returned her attention to her new employer.

“There was one thing,” she began.

“Yes?” Lilly Barrette froze by the door.

“Why am I here, whereas Mandy’s down on the first floor?”

“Oh, dearest,” said Barrette sweetly, “there’s a difference in class, isn’t there? Gentlemen such as the Malfoys, for instance, won’t take anything less than a lady from the top floor, whereas the more ordinary man, gent in the street, you know, could settle for a nice first floor girl...”

Hermione’s eyebrows went up. Class separation in a brothel?

Oh, well. Nothing should have surprised her by now, really. And Lilly Barrette seemed like a woman who liked to have everything just so.

“So I’m higher ranking than Mandy, is that what you are trying to say?”

“You practically said it yourself,” said Barrette. “Listing all those Death Eater clients... That’s important business, you know! Now, go to sleep, Mira, and we’ll talk more in the morning. All right?”

Hermione nodded; turning her attention back to the room she absentmindedly heard the sound of Barrette slamming her door.

“Well, Hermione,” she said to herself, throwing herself onto the bed and taking a deep breath, “welcome to professionalism.”


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A/N: Thanks so much to my beta JessiokaFroka! Still my own, personal goddess, she is...!

Now obviously, there\'s little (or nothing) exciting happening in this chapter, and for that I apologize... But I\'ll soon have the next one up to get the story going; hopefully that\'ll be to your liking. :) Keep the reviews coming, a fanfiction author lives for those! Thank you all so much!