Chapter 11 : Gone again
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He stopped, his train-of-thought derailed. The mattress surrounding her looked dark, damp.
“Are you ok?” He asked his voice no louder then the passing wind and he was surprised she heard him.
“Ok? Am I ok? Haven't you done enough? Haven't you cause me enough pain? Why are you even here? To mock me, laugh at me?” Her voice got higher with every word though it started to crack. “Just go, leave me alone. You've did enough, you- you murderer.” He had to strain his ears to hear her last words and he almost recoiled in horror, he wasn't a murderer.
“I'm not a murderer, I haven't killed anyone,” he tried to reason but her head was already drooped and her shoulders were shaking, she was crying? “Look, are you hurt?” She didn't answer and he moved forward to the edge of the mattress were he saw the dark, damp stain. Blood? “Is that blood?” She ducked her head even lower, a sob escaping her lips. He would take that as a yes but why was she crying? It didn't make sense unless she was, no she couldn't be his leader would have told him. But his boss had known something, something he didn't maybe it was that. He hoped not, he really, really hoped not.
“Are you pregnant?”
“Were you mean, thanks to you and the other one,” she exclaimed before dissolving into a fresh round of tears. He didn't know what to say.
“Stand up,” she just looked at him, her brown eyes glistened with tears and he looked away. “Please,” he muttered and she sighed but he felt her weight leave the mattress.
“Why, what more do you want with me. Haven't you done enough?” He only nodded, he realised much too late that he should never had agreed to help in the first place. Fame, power who was he kidding? The only thing he had done was tear some family apart and murder an innocent child. No, this had gone far enough.
He walked out of the door and she hesitantly followed, her whole body was slumped forward. They wandered down corridors, left then right then right again until they eventually reached a room which appeared to be empty. Waving his wand around a thin red glow emitted from the middle of the room and a table appeared. It was an old wooden table with a box on top. While he walked towards the box, Hermione saw he chance and started off down the corridor but he noticed immediately. Making after her she felt her feet pound the stone floor beneath her and even though she was hurting like hell she couldn't stop, she couldn't face him again. His footsteps seemed to be getting closer and she tried to move faster but it was too late, a hand collided with her waist and she stumbled to a stop.
“Stop struggling!” He hissed as he grabbed her arm and pulled her along with him, back towards were they where.
“Please, let me go,” she pleaded. He didn't answer but he loosened his grip around her wrist, no point in leaving a bruise. When they reached the room again he started walking towards the box, this time with Hermione, and he opened the lid and pulled out a wand. Letting go of her wrist he picked up the box and handed her the wand.
“It's yours,” he explained when she started at him blankly and she reached out to take it. “Hold on,” he told her extending his arm and she looked at him, her eyes almost pleading that he didn’t hurt her before placing a hand on his arm. Pointing his wand at the box it seemed to pulse blue before going back to its original state. “Hold on tight,” he warned before they were both pulled forward and jerked into darkness.
Neither of them heard the bang.
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