Chapter 21 : Kidnapped
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“Boy,” said a female croaky voice.
Draco turned to see a hag. One of her eyes bulging out, too big for her eye socket. This blind eye had a thin glassy layer, making her eye cloudier. The other eye was abnormally small and narrowed with a black iris. Her long nose ended with a large mole with a couple of hairs poking out. She had high, hallowed cheekbones and a long face with a pointed chin. She smiled widely at Draco, showing her three yellowish-almost black teeth.
“For a price, I can tell you where the one you seek went.”
“And where did she go?” he growled impatiently.
“For a price.”
“Don’t fucking play games with me, you hag.” At this moment, Draco aimed his wand, inches away from her forehead.
She fiddled with her fingers. He could see the long, curved nails stained yellow and brown.
“Two people took her.”
“What did they look like?”
“A blonde woman with short curly hair. Very slender. And a man. Tall and built with scars,” she answered croakily, squirming.
Draco crouched to the floor, cradling his face with his palms. His eyes darted wildly, thinking. His heart sunk into the pit of ice in his stomach.
Hermione had just been kidnapped.
The icy water dripped drop by drop, slowly, stinging her forehead. She groaned lightly, shifting her cold and stiff body. More trickling of water was heard in the far distance. She squinted and felt the ground beneath her with her hands, hard and damp. She could feel the beads of dirt massaging the supple palm of her hand. She lifted herself up with her elbows, shakily. Her body was weak and rigid as if her limbs had been neglected for days. Once in a sitting position, she narrowed her eyes at her blackened hand and with a scowl wiped her forehead with her inner arm. She heaved a sigh as her narrowed eyes glanced around the area. Dirt was scattered on the floor in hard beads and crunchy, old autumn leaves of brown rattled lowly from the draft on the floor. One leaf swept away to the shadowy corner where the bottles of all colors were vaguely seen. The gray walls were high, peeling away and some spots were broken in, showing the frame inflexible wires of the concrete wall. Stony debris settled at the edges of the wall. The windows were only a foot away from the ceiling, blackened with specks of dirt and the glass partially broken and ragged. The ceiling was hidden by the gray pipes snaking through each other and rusted with amber. One of the pipes clanked loudly, shaking as steam whistled out its binding. There was a crimson metal door, indented with a square pattern. In the middle of that door was a line of clear-icy blue windows mucked with grime.
Behind the door were muffled voices, sounding similar to an argument. Hermione laid on her front, pressing her face against the frozen floor as it burned her face. Under the crack of the door, there were two pairs of feet. One person sported black heels and the other with combat boots. Hermione couldn’t help, but to feel that sickening feeling settle at the pit of her stomach. She attempted to crawl military-style to the door, but was held back by a shackle clasped to her leg that clanked when it stretched out and echoed in the room.
The door slid open with jerks and a rasp and finally fully opened with a slam, booming an echo in the room. The heels clicked slowly toward her as she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping this was all a nightmare. That this was not real. That she was in bed alone and Draco would eventually come and wrap those protective arms around her and the nightmare would just go away. Now she was whimpering in fear.
The purr was recognizable. She could hear the venom sipping through the voice; she could feel it dribbling on her. She felt herself wanting to be poisoned by the voice so she didn’t have to be here.
“Evelyn,” she croaked, her eyes slowly lifting to see her standing above her.
“I heard you have been a naughty, naughty little girl.” She sounded exactly like Moaning Myrtle moping as she probed Hermione with her foot. “You didn’t take my potion. I was caught by Draco. He threatened to,” her voice changed into firm and assertive, “kill me with the same poison I tried to use on you. So,” she cocked an eyebrow with a smirk, “when I found out Farrow hated you as much as I did, well, we naturally teamed up.” Her smirk was wide now with cruel glee. “To believe, you stunned him twice. You let his prey escape his clutches and then you refuse him, when he just wanted to have a little bit of fun.”
Farrow’s footsteps were heard shuffling and gruffed, “Let me have fun now.”
At this Hermione shot far away from him as possible, hugging her knees and glaring at him.
“I swear, Farrow,” Evelyn snapped. “You are a primitive beast. You can’t get any woman into bed with you that you need to stoop so low?” She rubbed her templates with a sigh, clearly frustrated. “Anyway, dearie, if you haven’t notice. You've been kidnapped by me and Farrow. I don’t think I will kill you though. Someone wants you alive… But at least you’ll be out of the way. Come, you dog,” Evelyn called to Farrow and walked out with swaying hips. Farrow closed the door behind them with a struggle and a slam.
The man cried piercingly, his face contouring in an ugly pained look. His body jerked like he was experiencing a seizure. His face were stained with tears. “PLEASE!” he wailed.
Draco pointed his wand down, staring at the man with a cold, stony expression.
“Have mercy,” he whimpered, his voice no louder than a whisper.
Draco slid the chair across the floor backwards and with a turn and a slam, the chair was facing the man. He slowly lowered himself to sit. He leaned forward, with his elbows on his hands and twirled his wand in his hands. “Mercy is something I just don’t have time for.”
He sniffed, “I don’t know where she is. I don’t. I haven’t heard from her.”
“I really want to know where your sister is,” he said solemnly. “She kidnapped someone who means a lot to me. And she knows better than to fuck with me especially when it comes to my fiancée.”
“I really don’t know, Malfoy, sir,” he replied, his voice trembling.
“So, I guess since you're no use, I might as well kill you.” Draco lifted his wand to the man.
“NO! NO!” he howled, choked with a sob. “I REALLY DON’T KNOW!”
Draco sighed, rubbing his templates. “Alright then.”
“NOOO,” he shrieked. “NO!” His high-pitched screaming stopped, the minute Draco left.
Draco stepped outside inhaling the harsh winter air. Snow had settled, touching everything with its pure white beauty. It was heavy on the bare, skeleton trees, but glittering like tiny diamonds.
There was a fluffiness to it as snowflakes continue to whirl from the swirling clouds in the gray skies.
Draco turned to eye Rabastan with a scowl, but cocked his eyebrow questioningly.
“How many days has it been?”
“Three. I have no trace. Nothing I could fucking work with. I know it was them though.”
“You need to stop torturing your own people.”
“My own people?” growled Draco. “You’re fucking kidding me. My own people fucking kidnapped her. Fuck them.”
Draco walked with the snow crunching quietly beneath his feet. He walked home back to the Manor within an hour. He didn’t care to apparate. Didn’t even care to transform into a tiger. He wanted to embrace the cold as a friend because his insides were ice. The snow draped his shoulders as white dust and his hair wet from the melted snow. He entered the Manor, feeling unbearably empty. His father was sitting on the living room armchair, reading the Daily Prophet. His eyes rose to meet Draco’s.
“I finally was able to read the Daily Prophet on the interview,” he said coldly. “Your mother was indifferent about it. Called Rita a foul woman. It seems as if…your mother has a soft spot for the girl.”
“I need a favor from you,” Draco replied as cold, disregarding his father’s comments.
“And what will you do for me?”
“What do you want?” he asked cautiously.
“I need you to take a position in the ministry in the new year in the in Department of International Magical Cooperation. The Ministry workers of that department are making futile attempts to require outside help. I need you to suppress that sort of behavior. And don’t take it as a privilege. You were not my first choice. Both the Lestrange brothers rejected the offer.”
“I will take it,” he answered quickly.
“Now, son. What can I do for you?”
“Call all the Deatheaters. Not through letters. Call them with the mark.”
A small smirk played Lucius’ lips. “You are hoping the two will come?”
“I know they have gone into hiding, but I am positive they will show when called.”
Without another word, Lucius inched the wand toward his Dark Mark. The tip finally touched the mark and Draco felt his own mark go ablaze. It burned in his skin, but his eyes were unwavering from his father. The Dark Mark’s snake slithered in an intense carbon black. Faint pops could be heard in the distance beyond the Manor gates. Chattering was heard lowly as it became louder and louder, meaning the Deatheaters were approaching the front door. With a slam, they heard their distressed voices.
“Here!” called Lucius.
They moved as an unorganized crowd, stumbling over each other with worrisome faces. Amongst the crowd was Evelyn and Farrow and their eyes met Draco’s cold ones.
The arctic winds swept the flurries of snow through the broken windows. The windows had frosty veins of ice, reaching out and tinted slightly icy blue. The flurries eventually settled into a thin layer of dust, scattering when the freezing wind howled. Hermione clutched her coat tighter around her, frozen with her teeth chattering and the tips of her body going numb. She could feel her blood freezing over to ice. She sniffed, feeling herself getting sick. Her stomach grumbled, sounding like a roar as it echoed in the room. She counted the nights and the days. She had been there for almost a week now. Evelyn or Farrow hadn't been around either. She didn’t expect them to appear anyway. Their plan was probably for her to rot in this place.
She wondered about Draco. If he thought about her or if he embraced the opportunity that she was gone from his life. She thought endlessly about him. The way his smirk was a little lopsided. The way his eyelashes were so light they shined in the moon light. The way his eyes would darken stormily when he was upset. The way his hair ruffled when he was disgruntled. The way his grin would flash his teeth when he teased her. The way he stood tall and proud with hands hitched in his pocket. The way he was protective of her like he cared. The way he held her with strong arms and she could feel every muscle flex.
She sat there and wondered when her feelings for him became stronger than a friend. She rummaged through her head, searching for that moment. The memories between them two. Funny how things change. How two people can grow up and become better. That’s it. She broke. Warm tears first rolled down her flushed cheeks, burning the frostiness of her skin. Her shoulders lightly shook then became more violent until she was sobbing hard. Her cries echoed in the room, reminding her of her loneliness. That there was no Draco here to comfort her.
The door rasped against the track on the floor with jerks. And it wasn’t Evelyn or Farrow. She couldn’t believe who it was.
Evelyn tried to push through the crowd, pushing Farrow roughly to the ground. Quickly, Draco waved his wand and rope shot out of his wand, bounding Farrow. Evelyn disappeared into the crowd momentarily, but Rabastan appeared, holding her by her neck. He threw her to the ground and looked directly into Draco’s eyes. Ropes once again shot out of Draco’s wand, binding and gagging her. She squirmed fanatically, her scream muffled and her eyes darted wildly. Draco levitated them both from the living room to the dungeons. No one gave a single protest. They could see the deadly look in his eyes. With a big flick, they were thrown hard against the wall and fell to the ground. Draco ungagged Evelyn as she gasped for air. She swallowed hard then finally lifted her eyes to meet Draco’s stormy grey ones.
“You can come out and say it or I can torture you. You can decide.”
“You’re—you’re not going to let me rot in these dungeons…” she croaked.
“Evelyn, I don’t give a shit about you. Just tell me where she is.”
“The West Midlands… Outside the skirts of Walsall… She’s in…this thing—I don’t know what it is!” she squeaked with fear, squinting at the wand pointed at her face. “I don’t know what it is called! I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s a muggle thing. It’s run-down and dodgy. Has these big huge pipes. I have the coordinates. I have them!”
“Why don’t you show me?” he asked with a growl.
Quickly, he untied her and roughly grabbed her, pulling her close and sticking his wand to her side. He pushed her out of the dungeons and eventually outside the Manor completely. He poked her with his wand. He was indifferent to the feeling of being squeezed through a tube. The fields on the outskirts of the manor wrapped into a single red metal door and high concrete walls towering over them. Evelyn moved forward warily with glances back to find Draco’s wand still pointing at her. She struggled opening the door with jerks until it finally slid open with a rasp. She stepped into the room.
“No, no,” she muttered.
Draco followed in after her to see the room completely empty.
She gazed out the beautiful garden, filled with colorful flowers of the rainbow. The sun was setting in the horizon, bursting with colors of hazy yellow, burnt orange and a tad of magenta. The room was cozy as she eased at the warmth of the crackling fire as she wrapped the quilt around her tighter.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Are you really?” asked Hermione. “I find it convenient for you to show up at the right moment at the right place.” Hermione turned away from the window. “Blaise.”
hank you so much SassySlytherinGirl for editing this chapter XOXO. So much thanks.
A/N: This was soooo overdue. BUT on a good note, I finished two of my story challenges that were short stories so now this is pretty much my only focus so hopefully I can spit out chapters like bullets like before especially since I’ve completed up ‘till Chapter 30. =O Yes, I am a whole 9 chapters DONE from what I post.
Guys, I love you XOXO always thanks for the support.
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