In the Mood

Chapter Three


Hermione woke slowly to the smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee. She went over to the doorway of the kitchen, looking in on him eating. He only had made breakfast for himself. Sighing heavily, she walked over to the table.


“You can fix your own food,” he told her.


“And may I use the W.C.?”


“Help yourself,” he mumbled around a mouth full of food.


Hermione gave a nod. Leaving the room, she went over to the bathroom. Once she was out of the bathroom, she went over to the kitchen and made quick work of an egg, toast, and thin sliced ham. He watched as she poached the egg, as the she magically toasted the bread and heated the ham. She sat down with her plate in hand, eating silently as she read the Daily Prophet. He had never had breakfast at his own table with another person, never mind a woman. And yet there they were eating peacefully. Quietly he got up and served her coffee, putting it next to her.


“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking up the mug. “Have you read the paper yet this morning?”


He gave an affirmative grunt.


“Do you think they are correct in anything that they had to say about the murder?” she asked him.


He thought it over. “They got the day and the time correct.”


She laughed quietly. “I thought as much.” When he frowned, she added, “Let me just say that it appears that anyone with the last name of Skeeter have no association with the truth.”


He nodded slowly with understanding. “So what will are you doing today, Missy?”


“Besides trying to figure out how to get back to my own time?” she asked. “I don’t know. I was thinking that perhaps I might be able to help you out.”


“How so?” he inquired. “Are you a trained auror?”


“No.”


“Are you even finished with school?”


Her eyes narrowed. “That dig wasn’t called for.” She stood up and went to the sink saying, “I’ve done quite a bit before and since I’ve graduated, Mr. Moody. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t treat me like an idiot.” She finished doing not only her own dishes, but his as well. She dried them magically and put them away.


When she was finished, she turned around to leave but found herself fenced in against the sink by Alastor. He was so close that she could feel his breath against her face.


“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he murmured. “I think you are an untrained witch when it comes to the dark arts.” His hand went to her hair hesitantly, combing it back from her face. “There are witches and wizards out there, Missy, that I don’t want you to know about.”


She was silent for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to him without giving away too much. “Alastor, I wish I could say I say that I was ignorant of what you speak of, but I was cursed to living in interesting times.”


His eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”


“Dark wizards and witches are not only confined to this time and place,” she murmured. “Evil is vast and I know more of it than I ever cared to.”


He snorted at that. “What would you know…”


“I was tortured.” That stopped him. “A different time I was hit by a hex that the mediwitches still haven’t a clue the full extent of the damage it did to me.”


“That proves nothing,” he muttered.


Thinking a moment she said, “I can see the Veil.”


That had his eyes going wider.


“There’s nothing there.”


“Keep telling yourself that,” she said, walking away. “Maybe one day even you might believe that.”


***


Left with nothing else to do, she cleaned. From the top of the house to the bottom, she took her frustrations out on dirt and dust rather than the bull headed auror who was now avoiding her. She was in the middle of cleaning up the basement room when it felt like someone was watching her. Hermione looked up to see Alastor in the doorway.


“So you can see the Veil,” he said. “That doesn’t mean that you should be out there acting like an auror.”


“I never said that I wanted to,” she shot back. “I said I wanted to help you out, not that I wanted to be a auror.” She got up from where she was trying to scrub off a stubborn stain. “It’s blood isn’t it?”


His eyes flicked down. “Yes.”


“Okay.” Grabbing a napkin she transfigured it into an area rug that went well with the rest of the room’s colors. Or, she thought, lack there of. She covered the spot and went about, putting bits of color throughout the room.


“Come along,” he ordered gruffly. “I don’t have time to wait for you to get over your domestic bent this morning. We have work to do.”


When they arrived at Malfoy Manor, Hermione just about threw up. The last time she had been there was when Bellatrix LeStrange had tortured her. Swallowing back the bile, she absently stepped a little closer to Alastor. This wasn’t missed by him nor was the change in her coloring, as she had turned ashen the moment they had arrived on the front steps of the large mansion.


But the moment he was about to ask her what was wrong, the front door was opened by a house elf. She blinked down at the elf.


“Dobby?” she asked quietly.


The elf blinked its huge eyes and said, “I be Dobby.”


She went on her knee and held out her hand to him. “My name is Hermione Granger. It is a pleasure to meet you who has served so many so well.”


The little elf looked about ready to burst into tears. He shook her hand. “Thank you, miss. You is the nicest witch Dobby has ever met!”


But just at that moment Abraxas Malfoy came over and kicked the elf out of the way.


“That wasn’t necessary,” she snapped at him, getting to her feet.


“Yes, it was,” he said snidely. “He was in my way.”


And that was the moment Hermione was positive that Abraxas Malfoy killed his own father. Alastor stepped forward, pulling her out of the way and began talking to the new lord of the manor. They were allowed into the house, but only so far as the main entrance way. She didn’t hear a single word pass between the two men, who were snapping and nearly arguing with each other. All she could hear was Bellatrix asking over and over again about the huxcruxes. All she knew was the pain and that evil maniacal laugh of a mad woman that would die during battle to a housewife.


Alastor didn’t know what was wrong with her. She hadn’t said a word since she had snapped at the new Malfoy heir. It wasn’t until they had arrived at the Ministry of Magic that he saw that her lower lip was bleeding. He pulled her to the side, yanking out a handkerchief and blotted her lip carefully.


“You bit through your own lip,” he muttered.


That seemed to snap her out of what she was thinking. She looked into his eyes and whispered, “I need to go for a walk to clear my head. I-I’ll be back.” Without so much as a by your leave, she walked away.


Not knowing what to make of how she was acting, he followed her. She knew where she was going, he thought, but where…


And that was the very moment she stepped into St. Mungo’s.


***

A/N- Thanks for reading! Please take the time to review.