¿Mixed Chemistry?

Chap 31.07

Hermione sat in the bay window watching the Potter kids play. Arthur and Molly Weasley had left about a half an hour ago and the kids’ curfew had long past. Hermione looked up to catch Ginny give Harry a sweet kiss.

She closed her eyes, trying to fight back tears. She turned to look out the window at the rain that fell even harder. The night went by fine. All the Weasley’s were there and no tears fell then. She looked at her watch; it read 11:55 p.m.

She stood up, trying to keep her composure. She smiled weakly at the couple, “I think I’m going to head home, too.”

The couple stood up. Harry looked at the grandfather clock.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” she hugged Harry. She held the embrace for a bit longer than usual as if she was not going to see him for a long while. She stepped back trying to smile up at him.

“Ginny, thanks for inviting me.”

“You’re kidding right,” Ginny laughed. She was slightly surprised when Hermione hugged her just as she did Harry.

“I’d better get a move on,” Hermione said heading for the foyer. She pulled her coat.

“You’re not going by floo powder?” Ginny asked surprised.

“I need the exercise,” Hermione said smiling weakly.

“You’re joking right,” Ginny said as she opened the front door.

“It’s raining cats and dogs out there, Hermione,” Harry added.

“I’ll be fine. A little rain never kills anybody,” she said, gulping, as she put her coat on. She gave both Harry and Ginny a kiss on the cheek before nodding her last goodbye.

They watched her pull the hoodless trench coat’s lapels closer around her neck. The rain beat down on her slowly shrinking form as she walked away from the house. Both Harry and Ginny looked at each other worriedly. They watched her as she turned the corner before they closed the door.

* * *

The rain fell hard on Hermione. Her face was awash with moisture. But a more careful study of her face would show that tears were flowing down her cheeks masked by the falling rain droplets.

She had walked for some time, a good twenty minutes, or so. She saw her home where she and Ron had shared for the past three years. She looked down. “Why’d you have to get yourself killed?!” she yelled in her head. She cried into her hands as she crumpled to the sidewalk.

She looked up at the sky again. The large raindrops hit her face. She turned to see smoke from smoldering fires in the distance. “Curse you, Death Eaters,” she said under her breath.

She suddenly bolted upwards. She felt for the thin stick in the pocket of her coat. She began to break into a sprint. She made up her mind. She was going to hit those foul Death Eaters where it would hurt the most.

She headed straight for the wealthy gated part of the town. It was quiet. The torrential rain had given way to a gentle drizzle. She pulled out the wand and headed for the largest mansion. She pulled off her trench coat and headed straight for the porch where three guards stood smoking muggle cigarettes.

They spotted her too late. She aimed her wand at them and three blue incandescent orbs shot out of it. It struck them dead; clean and quick. She rammed her shoulder into the front door. It flung open. Fifteen guards came rushing into the foyer.

Along with some muggle martial arts, she took nine of them down breaking neck after neck. Her eyes were cold and calculated; something she never thought could ever happen. She took care of the rest with her signature orbs.

Another set of guards came down from the second floor. Two of them flung themselves at her. They fell down a flight of stairs into a dank, dark, cellar. She coughed, trying to catch her breath. The fall killed both the young guards. She recovered before another group of guards came rushing down the stone steps.

She went to one knee as she surveyed the situation. Five of them went into their defensive stances to her right. Another six aimed at her from her left. She narrowed her eyes at them, determined to get through them and kill the masters of the household.

She slowly stood up to her full form. Several of the guards shuddered, showing their fright. She took a step back. There were eleven of them ready to pounce on her. She thought of an old auror trick that she employed when the Ministry needed them in the streets. She aimed at the ceiling of the dungeon and then chanted a spell.

The guards looked up as a rumble rocked the foundation of Malfoy Manner. Large clouds of dust came falling into their eyes. She moved quickly aiming orbs at each of them.

As the smoke cleared, she felt a jolt. Another set of nine guards came rushing down the stairwell. One of them flew at her tackling her into the ground. She convulsed, trying to catch her breath. The blow had knocked her wand out of her hand.

She flipped the young man over. She lunged for her wand, when she felt the pointy tip of a boot crack into her right side. She gasped for air. Another guard picked up her wand. She hurled herself into the young wizard.

The guard struggled against her. She pushed him into the bars of a cell right behind him. He dropped both of his fists into her back. She screamed in pain. He picked up her wand and aimed it at her. She looked him straight in the eye and quickly brought her fist in an upward motion that clocked the guard in the chin. She grabbed his neck and twisted until she heard it click. He fell limp.

Her face fell. The wand had splintered into two pieces. She took in a deep breath. She turned only to feel as if she walked full steam into a plate glass window. She staggered backwards.

The remaining eight guards were able to overcome her. They ganged up on her and wrestled her to the ground. They pummeled her until she lay near the brink of unconsciousness. She shut her eyes as she heard them faintly.

“The master will want to interrogate her before we dispose of her,” one of the guards said. They tied her wrists together before dragging her into one of the cells that stood behind her.

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat up in his room peering out over the Dark Forest a mile away from their mansion. A quick traveling spell would clear that distance in a millisecond. The forest was full of Dark Magic; a place he would never choose to enter unless it was a matter of life or death.

He had remembered the first time he had entered it. He was forced to pull detention with the school’s gamekeeper, Hagrid, and three meddlesome Gryffindors: Potter, Weasley and of course Mudblood know-it-all Hermione Granger. It was the first time he had seen the Dark Lord at his weakest point; a far cry from what he was now.

His followers have helped him grow more and more powerful. The Malfoys were a big part of that run. He had better appreciate what we have done for him, Draco thought. He was part of the new generation that would help to spread his power. He rubbed the inner part of his left forearm and stared at the tattoo like picture of the skull and serpent that symbolized the Dark Mark. He smiled to himself, almost wickedly. He was in the inner circle now of those who wielded the power; who struck fear in those non-purebloods. He had helped to create that fear and it gave him a sense of importance.

If it weren’t for those of that bloody Order of the Phoenix, the rise of the Death Eaters would be complete. Potter was being the same little do gooder that he always was. But now his faithful sidekicks were nowhere near his side. At this thought, Draco appeared a little sad as he remembered approaching the dying young man.

The redhead had been fatally defeated in that duel. He lay under a pile of rubble. Draco closed in on him pointing his wand towards his head. Draco wanted to finish him off fairly. He sneered as he cleared most of the rubble from the upper half of his old nemesis. He was barely alive. Draco knew he was suffering from internal injuries. He knelt beside him keeping the wand on him.

He remembered his green eyes rolling back into his head. Draco was going to finish him off but he stopped. Ron had grabbed onto his forearm that had the mark on it.

“Please don’t hurt her, Malfoy,” Draco remembered him pleading.

Draco almost dropped his wand. He recovered, though. He took hold of his wand in his right hand and raised it again.

“Please don’t let them kill her, Malfoy,” Ron coughed up blood.

“Draco, please. Draco, protect her. Protect Hermione.” It was the last thing his enemy had said to him before he let go of his arm and his life.

“Protect her? Bullshit,” he muttered to himself.

“I’d rather blast that Mudblood to pieces,” he said out loud.

“That can be arranged, son,” Mr. Malfoy had entered his son’s room. Draco glanced over at his father wondering how long he had been standing there.

“Father, it’s a bit late, is it not,” Draco rolled up his sleeve as he looked at his watch. It read a little past one.

“It seems that our enemies have no concept of time, Draco. Come with me. I think you’d rather enjoy this,” Mr. Malfoy baited him as he walked out of the room.

Draco’s interest was piqued. He followed his father down to the cellar of the old mansion.

“Potter and his followers have gone too far. We will squash their futile attempt at resistance as Lord Voldemort assures us,” his father muttered.

“I will not tolerate this,” he continued as he led his son down the last flight of stairs.

“What are you babbling about, Father,” Draco said dryly with no particular sense of interest in his voice.

“No Mudblood will taint my manor as long as I live,” his father stepped into the dark shadowy basement. There was a faint light in the lone cell that was occupied.

Draco had finally realized at what his father was so upset. One guard held her down on her knees while another guard, towering over her kicked at her sternum. Six other guards waited outside of the cell laughing at the torture in front of them.

They stopped laughing as they saw Lucius step off the bottom step onto the cold stone floor. The guard finally stopped kicking her; she seemed to convulse as she tried to take in a breath. He showed her no mercy. He forearmed her across the face. Blood spilled from her mouth. But before she could fall over, the guard behind her held her up.

“Stop!” Draco heard himself yell as the torturer cocked his forearm again. The dungeon went silent. Both guards turned to face the young man. The guard that held her released his grip on her and she sank to the floor.

Lucius Malfoy looked at his son questioningly, scanning the young man’s face. “Wizards and witches like her have destroyed our culture, Draco. Half bloods and Mudbloods have dirtied our homes and workplaces; our communities; our schools. Muggles should stick to their own world and leave ours alone.

“This one; Hermione, is she not? That dead Weasley boy’s wife,” his father spat out the words. “She wouldn’t divulge anything of this plot to overrun this manor by herself. It makes no sense. She took out thirty two of my best guards. She’ll pay for this.

“Kill her,” Mr. Malfoy instructed the guards in the cell. The torturers picked her body up with a seeming glint in their eyes.

“No!” Draco found himself yelling again. Mr. Malfoy again looked at his son questioningly.

Draco was silent for a while. He took in a deep breath; trying to calm himself down. “I’d like to do it myself, Father.”

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A/N It's slow going, I know. But, please review anyway. Thanks.