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Chapter 4 : Fynn's Trick
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There were thirty-three Hunters, if Marcus had been telling the truth. The ones that Hermione could actually arrest and charge were Marcus, Fynn, and Draco. She looked Marcus and Fynn up in the Auror’s records and found information about them.
Marcus Dryciano was twenty-seven years old and had been arrested once for cursing a muggle. Rynell Fynn was thirty years old and had been arrested for sexual assault twice before on muggles and once before on a witch.
Draco Malfoy didn’t have a record, but by the time Hermione was through with him, he would have a record longer than that of a true Death Eater.
Once she was through with her research, Hermione got into the shower and scrubbed for ages, getting both real and imaginary dirt off. The warm water cascading around her felt heavenly, and she remained in the shower for nearly an hour.
An hour later, when she finally left her small shower, Hermione found her towel missing, though she could have sworn that she had left it on the edge of the sink. Frowning slightly, Hermione walked to the towel pantry and grabbed another.
Right after she had wrapped the fluffy towel around her body, Hermione was stopped by a wand tip digging into her neck.
“Hello again, love,” said a whispered voice in her ear. Hermione’s blood ran cold. It was the cold, halting voice of Fynn. “You made me very unhappy the last time we were together.”
“Really? Good,” snarled Hermione, not in the mood for civilities. She tried to jerk away without dislodging her towel, but Fynn shoved the wand into her neck harder until she whimpered.
“So I come to find you, to finish our little encounter,” Fynn continued, completely ignoring her, “and here I find you already undressed and waiting for me.” By the simple means of his sharp wand, Fynn forced Hermione to walk back to her bedroom as he spoke. “Oh, the boss was so angry with me—said you were out-of-bounds. The stupid boy, he’s much too soft.”
Though she was frightened, Hermione was surprised that Draco had been angry with Fynn over her; his attitude after reviving her had been one of utmost indifference.
“Come now, take off that towel,” he hissed into her ear.
Hermione stepped away from him, acting like she was about to take her towel off, but instead, she grabbed Draco’s wand from her dresser and pointed it at him, yelling, “Stupefy!”
The spell missed and Fynn shot a Cruciatus Curse at her, which Hermione ducked. Flashes of light were shooting in all directions as each tried to get a clear shot at the other.
Fynn’s legs began to dance uncontrollably, but in the brief moment that Hermione had looked at her handiwork, he managed to get off a glancing blow with a Bone-Crushing curse that broke her wand arm.
Hermione screamed as her arm was smashed by the curse, and now all she could try and hit Fynn with was stunning charms, because she couldn’t think of any others that she could use with her left hand.
Since most spells and charms required wrist movements, Hermione hadn’t learned how to do them backwards for her left hand, which she was definitely going to make sure was a part of Auror training if she survived.
Fynn had performed the counterjinx to the leg-dancing jinx and was now walking on two feet toward her. Hermione shot three stunners in a row at Fynn through the haze of pain that was in her right arm.
Fynn managed to duck two of the three stunners, but the last one hit him in the chest and he fell, unconscious, to the ground.
After grabbing his wand, Hermione hurriedly got dressed in her Auror robes as best as she could with a broken arm that she couldn’t heal by herself since she didn’t know the left-handed wand wave for the healing spell to work.
A loud pounding on her door distracted her from her plans to apparate to St. Mungo’s.
The horrible pounding pain in Hermione’s arm was almost debilitating as she walked over to the door. Two men stood outside, dressed in plain black robes.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” the taller one asked, his face partially hidden by his hood. He had plainly seen her breathing hard and in pain as her right arm hung at an awkward angle by her side.
Hermione debated about saying that she was okay, but as black dots swam in front of her eyes, she realized that Fynn could wake up any moment and she would be helpless to stop him.
“No,” she said.
“Can we help you?” said the shorter one. “What’s wrong?”
“One of the Hunters came after me,” said Hermione, now leaning on the doorframe to stay conscious, “and he’s stunned in my bedroom. My arm is broken and I can’t heal it.”
“We can help, right, Sam?” said the taller one.
“Yeah, we’ll come in and round him up,” offered Sam.
“Wait,” Hermione said suspiciously. “Who are you and why are you two here, anyway?”
“Well,” said the tall one, with a glance at Sam. “We’re also Hunters, and we’ve been told to bring you back to Mr. Malfoy—he says he has some unfinished business with you.”
Hermione whirled around to try and shut the door, but the other two were too fast; one darted past her and went to go find Fynn while the other scooped her up carefully in his arms and disapparated.
Hermione found herself in Draco’s office in the Malfoy Mansion once again. The Hunter holding her set Hermione on her feet, and she wavered, placing a hand on the bookcase next to her to steady herself.
Draco, sitting at the desk in front of her, saw the way her arm hung at the wrong angle and instantly rounded on the Hunter who had brought her to him.
“I told you she wasn’t to be harmed!” said Draco furiously, fingering the wand that was on his desk.
“Sir! It wasn’t us—Fynn got there first and he was the one who attacked her,” explained the tall one, his eyes darting from Hermione to Draco. “Sam’s on the way—he’s got Fynn. He broke her arm before she stunned him.”
“What do you want, Malfoy?” Hermione asked roughly, her vision dimming.
Hermione watched as Malfoy appeared to be answering her, but she couldn’t hear anything but the roaring in her ears. She blinked rapidly, wondering why he looked so concerned when he was the one who had ordered her to be kidnapped.
She watched as Malfoy moved almost in slow motion around his desk toward her. Hermione tried to meet him halfway, but ended up falling into his arms. Before she passed out, the last thing Hermione saw were Draco’s stunning gray eyes looking down at her.
There was something above her—something silvery. Hermione reached up to try and catch it; maybe it was the moon!
“Granger. Are you awake? Granger! Put your hand down and open your eyes.”
Hermione realized where she was and closed her eyes tightly, hearing Draco’s silky voice speaking to her.
“I can very easily call your friend Fynn back here,” Draco threatened.
“Then I’ll just kick his ass like I did the last time,” replied Hermione stubbornly, her eyes still closed.
“Last time?” Draco’s voice held a hint of laughter. “Granger, last time you two tangled, you ended up with every bone in your wand arm crushed and he was just stunned.”
Hermione’s eyes shot open and she glared up at him reproachfully.
“If you hadn’t sent that pervert after me in the first place, none of this would have happened,” said Hermione. She was lying on the couch of Draco’s office, and Draco was sitting next to her in a chair.
Hermione tried to move her arm but it was tied in a splint and still painful. The room was empty but for the two of them.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Granger, for being such an insufferable know it all, you sure can be dense.”
“Don’t you call me a know it all, Draco Malfoy,” snarled Hermione, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You’re the one who tried desperately, year after year, to get higher grades than me, and it didn’t work. Tell me, Malfoy, how did your father take it when you were beaten by a muggleborn?”
“Sod off, Granger,” snapped Malfoy. “And just to make things perfectly clear, I did not send Fynn after you; it was a mistake hiring him to begin with. Clearly, he’s too violent and unwilling to follow my commands.”
“What are you going to do with him?” Hermione asked curiously, wondering how things were done in the Hunter group.
“Kill him,” said Draco easily.
Hermione gasped. “Why so extreme?”
“Because he disobeyed me twice in two days, and more in the past, Granger. I will not have him sully the name of the Hunters by turning them into a group of rapist thugs,” said Draco.
“Malfoy—you told that Marcus character to molest me,” Hermione informed him. “That really doesn’t bode well for the Hunters’ reputation.”
“ Pretend to molest you. And I do what I have to for information,” said Draco. He leaned back in his chair. “As for why you are here, I would like my wand back.”
“As would I,” sneered Hermione.
“Shut up, Granger.”
“Give me my wand.”
“Are you going to have Potter arrest me?”
“No.” When Draco looked relieved, Hermione continued, “I am going to arrest you.”
“I do a valuable service to the Wizarding world,” Draco informed her.
“Bull. You’re a sadistic creep who uses the law as a joke to get your violence high.”
“Well, you’re a silly mudblood who follows Potter’s every whim, instead of what you want.”
“Why did you get angry with that Hunter when you thought he hurt me?” Hermione threw out the question, hoping to unbalance him.
“Because I told him not to and I get angry when people disobey me,” lied Draco.
Hermione could tell he was lying because he avoided eye contact with her for the first time, but she couldn't tell what he was hiding.
The real reason, which Draco would never admit, was that he almost admired her strength and cleverness in both not giving in to Marcus’s interrogation and escaping his mansion, though it admittedly made her all the more dangerous to him and his followers.
A wave of pain washed through Hermione’s arm and she gritted her teeth. “Would you heal my arm?” she hissed.
“Maybe…” said Malfoy cryptically. “But you have to do something for me first.”
“The price of your freedom is one night with me,” he said, his eyes unreadable.
“Are you joking?!”
“Thank you.” Malfoy waved his wand at her arm, healing it instantly. Then he vanished the splint and tossed her back her wand, having found his own in her robes while she was unconscious.
Hermione stood upright and pointed her wand at Malfoy. “Draco Malfoy, you are under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder,” she said, watching him warily. “You will surrender your wand and come quietly or I shall have to bring you in by force.”
Malfoy looked at her incredulously and laughed. “Right, Granger. I’m letting you go—let’s have that be enough for now.”
Before Hermione could retort, there was a crack and Sam appeared in the office with Fynn.
"Fynn has something to tell you," Sam said.
“Boss,” said Fynn, looking at Draco. Rynell Fynn actually looked civil when he wasn’t mad with lust and rage. “I swear to you that I did not go after the girl. She invited me to her house; said she had something to tell me. I only attacked her in self defense! She lured me there…”
Draco blinked, thrown off guard by this.
Hermione was frightened of this man and she half-expected him to attack her that instant. But Fynn never once looked at her; he just looked calmly at Malfoy and spoke sincerely.
“I even have the letter still,” said Fynn, pulling a piece of parchment out of his robes and handing it to Malfoy. The parchment was heavily scented with perfume; Hermione wasn’t even holding it and she could smell it. The opposite side of the letter said in curling script: To my dear Rynell
Draco’s eyes scanned the letter quickly and his features darkened. He looked at Hermione, his gray eyes electric with anger.
“I should not have doubted you, Fynn,” he said. “Take the girl to the room she was in before and lock her in.”
Hermione was stricken already, but then Draco struck the final blow. “And disable the call button—I don’t need to be bothered with any of her lies.”
“Malfoy, I—” Hermione was cut off by Draco’s wand pointing at her and silencing her.
In one quick movement, Fynn disarmed her. He then bowed to Draco and said reverently, “I am sorry for her making you believe me a traitor, sir.”
Draco nodded and waved his hand to dismiss them.
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