On a Night Like This

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Chapter six: She’s a Mystery

Still bound and in the dark, Harry was confused. He heard the curse cast and he could hear the screams. But they weren’t coming from him or any of those in his immediate vicinity. The only explanation was that it was the other Deatheaters, which didn’t make sense at all. Abruptly the screams were replaced by quiet whimpering. He heard the crack that came with apparating and the lights came on.

He felt the bonds remove themselves and sat up warily. The fourth figure removed her robes to reveal, surprisingly, muggle jeans and a black t-shirt. She was small, not much more than five foot, slim with curves that looked deceptively large on her small frame. Her skin was slightly tan and littered with moles. Silky dark brown hair covered her head, pin straight and falling a bit past her narrow shoulders. The most mesmerizing feature was her large eyes. They were dark brown, so dark as to appear black. Hooded by her long lashes, they were the only feature that showed her age. Her body was that of a young girl, not much older than themselves. Her eyes, however, showed pain and suffering. They were not the eyes of a child.

Strangely, when she turned those eyes on them they were full of compassion and anger. “Are you alright?” she asked. Harry gaped at her. Exactly what the hell was going on here? Abducted by Deatheaters and then apparently saved by one. This was turning out to be a very strange day.

“Why would you care?” he spat at her. She looked affronted for a moment but quickly frowned back at him. “Well Minerva would kill me if anything happened to you, for starters.” Well, he told himself, I certainly wasn’t expecting that. “There are members of the Order who are more clandestine than others.” She smirked at them, a vaguely familiar expression, though Harry could not think why.

“But…You are a Deatheater!” cried Hermione. The girl rolled her eyes at them. “I wouldn’t be the first one,” she said, nodding at Malfoy. “How can we be sure you what you are saying is the truth?” Hermione asked suspiciously. “An excellent question.” She beamed at Hermione.

“I would have worried had you been too trusting. It would not do to have those who hold the fate of the wizarding world in their hands to listen to just anyone. I am a Deatheater, after all, and a spy for the Order. A traitor is a traitor. There are many things I could tell you to prove who I am, but I believe the location of your headquarters would be best. It is after all, unplottable and you can only find it if you know where to look. Dumbledore himself took me on my first visit to 12 Grimmauld place.”

Hermione nodded, satisfied. This was turning out to be strange day indeed. “And them? Bellatrix?” The girl thought for a moment, understanding what Hermione was asking. “They assumed I was chastising them for prematurely taking what is strictly the dark lord’s. He wishes to finish you off himself, Harry. You have been quite the thorn in his side and he will allow no one else the privilege. And before you ask, yes I did torture them. I have witnessed and partook in enough evil in my life not to waste time worrying about bad things happening to those who deserve it. In another life I would consider it wrong to subject anyone to that kind of pain. But as I said, that would be in another life.”

Draco looked at her with a mix of fear and wonder. He didn’t recognize her from the meetings or revels, though that meant nothing, really. Only the daft or dangerously confident removed their masks. She would have been immediately apparent because of her sex. There were not many female Deatheaters. Apparently the “rape and pillage” aspect did not appeal to them as it did the men.

The few there were though, such as Bellatrix, were a force to be reckoned with. Only the most calculating, hard women remained in his service for any length of time. Truly they were more valuable to Voldemort’s service than the men. They were the ones with no qualms at all, doing his very dirtiest work. Bellatrix would kill her own family in a heartbeat if Voldemort asked, and likely even if he didn’t.

Ron broke the silence first. “I’m Ron Weasley. Pleased to meet you,” he said, bending to kiss her hand chivalrously. Hermione rolled her eyes and Draco stifled a laugh. Ron had grown into quite the playboy, hitting shamelessly on any woman who met his criteria. Perhaps criteria was a bit of an overstatement. All they had to do really was be in possession of a vagina and look in his general direction.

“Uhh, pleased to meet you too, Ron,” she said rather flustered at his overly dramatic greeting. “My name is Belladonna but mostly people call me Bella. I assume you are Hermione. I have heard much of your mental abilities; I hope you are able to live up to the hype.” Hermione looked at her and blushed, muttering a thank you. Most people had known her for so long they dispensed with such niceties. It was actually quite rare to receive such a compliment, even if it was a conditional one.

Glancing at Harry’s forehead she said, “You can only be the famous Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived.” Shifting her gaze to Draco, she smiled. “I would know you were a Malfoy from a mile away. From the praise your father heaps on you in your absence, I half expected you to be made of gold. The little dragon indeed.”

Draco winked at her. So she knew his father. The man loved him endlessly but Draco sometimes wished he could tone it down a little when non family members were around. He recognized her face and her name from somewhere he couldn’t place and wondered if he had met her at one of his father’s parties.

“I suppose I shall escort you back. It has been some time since I have been there myself. I have been needed on an assignment that was very lengthy. There are people I would like to see,” she said wistfully.

Ron noticed a touch of sadness in her eyes and rubbed her back gently in a manner that he hoped was both comforting and arousing. Harry noticed this humorously, and knew Belladonna would have to be daft not to see what he was attempting. She accepted it gracefully for the time being, at least.

“Besides, someone will have to explain your mishap to Minerva, which I assure you will not be pleasant. Hopefully my return will mask any anger she may wish to direct at you.” They all nodded. She may love them all dearly, but she had never hesitated to give punishment when it was due. “Let’s get a move on then, before they start looking for you.”

Back at Grimmauld place, Sirius and Severus checked Draco’s room first and then the trio’s. Confused, Sirius looked around their practice room as if waiting for them to pop out at any moment. “Where are they?” Severus looked just as confused and worried. “I don’t know, but if they did what I think then there will be hell to pay.”

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