Hunted

Chapter 17: Betrayed

Ravena groaned and stirred on the bed. A throbbing pain pulsed in her temples. She attempted to reach for her aching head, but her arms were twisted behind her back and bound with ropes that cut into her wrists. She tugged against the bindings, then allowed her face to sink deeper into the velvet bedspread.

"Get her up," commanded a heartless voice.

Two hands seized her arms and jerked her upright. A jolt of pain shot through her bound limbs. A cry of agony escaped her lips. Her eyes fluttered open to light on the cruel face of Lucius Malfoy. Ravena gasped. So he was behind this. She should have known. Only Lucius could have inveigled her mother to betray her only daughter.

Ravena cast him an insolent glare. Malfoy returned her stare with a cunning gaze, the corners of his mouth curling into a lascivious sneer. His hand reached to brush a strand of hair from her face. He chuckled.

"Well, Ravena," Malfoy said, "cooperate and I will go easy on you. Defy me and I will make you suffer."

His fingers grasped a handful of the thick black tresses and yanked. Ravena's neck snapped back. She winced, but remained defiant. No amount of physical discomfort could persuade her to cooperate with him.

"If you're looking for the diamond," Ravena spat, through gritted teeth. "I haven't got it."

"The diamond?" Lucius laughed. "That is past history. This time, I need something else from you. Information that only you possess. And you will give it to me."

"I will tell you nothing," Ravena snapped, her blue eyes flashing.

"We shall see," Lucius replied.

He released his hold. Ravena jerked her head away from his repugnant touch. She glanced at a second man, disguised in a hooded robe that stood at her side, guarding her. Her eyes scanned the room, taking stock of her situation.

She sat on a four poster bed with a crimson canopy and matching coverlet. Heavy velvet drapes covered the windows, blocking out all outside light. A small bedside table covered with antique lace supported a silver candelabrum, the only source of illumination in the room. In its flickering light, she could see a large oil portrait in a gilded frame hanging near the bedside. An elderly man with sharp features, dressed in ornate wizard robes emblazoned with the Slytherin crest, stared down at her. The man held a serpent-headed cane in his gloved grasp. Ravena surmised that this was one of the bedrooms in Malfoy's Wiltshire mansion.

Then her gaze flicked to Malfoy. He held a pitcher in his hand and poured water into two glasses with deliberate slowness. Ravena's lips felt parched and dry, a remnant of her mother's potion. The cooling liquid was just what she needed to slake her thirst. Malfoy turned to her and waved a glass before her face in a teasing gesture.

"Thirsty, are you not?" he taunted. "The sleeping draught does have that effect."

With a cruel laugh, he withdrew the glass. He watched her eyes following his hand. A mocking smile played on his lips.

"But I am not an unreasonable man," he said. "I can be generous when so inclined. A gesture of good will."

Malfoy held the glass to her lips and dribbled a small amount into her mouth. But Ravena knew Lucius well enough to suspect his treachery. Instead of swallowing the liquid, she spewed it from her mouth, spitting it back in his face. Then she wiped her lips on the shoulder of her blouse, smearing the ivory silk with the remains of her lipstick in the process. If the water had been tainted with any foreign substance, she wanted no part of it left on her lips.

Malfoy's face contorted with fury. He set the glass back on the table and mopped his face with his sleeve. Then his hand struck her cheek with a stinging blow that sent her head snapping to the side. She winced again, but his blow did nothing to quell her defiance.

He raised his hand to strike her again, but a knock on the door interrupted him. He stopped and spun to face the door. An aged house-elf wearing a soiled loincloth shuffled into the room.

"What is it?" Malfoy spat. "Did I not tell you that I do not wish to be disturbed?"

"Yes, Master," the house-elf said. His ancient bones creaked, as he doubled over in a low bow. "But Mistress sent Kreacher to tell Master that Minister Cornwall is in the parlor to see him."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. His head whipped around to face the masked man.

"Keep an eye on her until I return," he ordered.

Then he spun around and strode toward the door. As he exited, his foot shot out in a kick that send the old house-elf hurling into the hallway. His hand pulled the door shut in his wake. Ravena could hear his footsteps retreat down the corridor. She sank back down on the bed with a sigh of relief.

The masked man laughed, a familiar, sarcastic snigger. Ravena's head jerked to face him with a quizzical stare. The man pulled the hood and mask from his face to reveal his sharp features, platinum-blond hair, and blond goatee. Draco leered over her.

His lustful eyes raked over her curvaceous form lying on the bed. She watched his gaze linger on her breast. With her hands bound behind her back, she was quite helpless to fend off any advances. His hand reached for her. She cringed and edged away on the bed.

"Now Draco," she urged. "I am your professor. Remember your place. You could be expelled for less."

"But you are my prisoner," he reasoned. "Dad left me in charge. You have to do what I say."

She had to think of something quickly. Her gaze swept to the glasses of water on the table. Her eyes flicked back to Draco who now slid onto the bed beside her.

"All right," she whispered, her lips trembling. "But m-my throat is p-parched and my lips are dry. Could I please have a drink first?"

"You're not going to spit it at me, are you?" Draco said.

"No, I promise," she replied, casting him a pleading look. "It's just that I can't kiss you with dry lips."

Draco stared at her, considering her words. Then his mouth curled into a wicked grin of delight. He sat up on the bed. His hand reached for the first glass.

"No, not that one," she urged. "It's laced with Veritaserum. Do you really want a woman to tell you the truth after your very first kiss?"

Draco's hand withdrew from the glass with an abrupt jerk and reached for the second tumbler. He pulled Ravena to a sitting position with a clumsy tug. He tipped the glass to her lips, spilling the contents down the front of her blouse. Ravena kept her lips pursed shut, only pretending to drink. But she allowed the liquid to wet her lips.

Draco replaced the glass on the table, then leaned over her. He met her lips with a wet kiss. She felt his groping hand on her breast. Seconds later, the weight of his body pressed down upon hers in a dead faint. The second glass must have been tainted with a powerful drug. Draco was out cold.

Ravena wriggled herself out from under his body and wiped her lips on the bedspread. In the wink of an eye, she transformed into a black, long-haired feline. The bonds that had confined her wrists and ankles slid to the bed in loose tangles of rope. She was free.

Ravena resumed her human form. Her hands rifled through the pockets of Draco's robe, searching for his wand or any other weapon that might be of use in her escape.

"Bravo," said a snide voice from the wall above the bed. "That was a fine performance, worthy of the family name."

Ravena's head whipped up to see the man in the oil portrait watching her with an appreciative grin. Her eyebrows rocketed skyward in alarm.

"But, of course, my dear," the man in the portrait said, "I cannot let you free after what you just did to my great grandson."

Ravena laid hold of Draco's wand and whipped it from the folds of the robes. She pointed the wand at the figure in the frame and uttered a Stunning Charm. A sputter of sparks flew from the wand tip, then a bolt of red light. The figure in the portrait slumped against the picture frame.

Ravena fingered the wand. This one didn't work nearly as well for her as her own, but it would have to do. Her fingers tucked the wand into the belt of her trousers. She rose to her feet.

She dipped her hand into the pitcher of water, washed her lips, and wiped them on her sleeve. She wanted to eradicate any traces of that sedative from her mouth. One false lick and all her hard-won gains would be lost. Then she headed for the bedroom door.

She opened the door just a crack and peered into the hallway. A large spiral staircase with a polished banister met her gaze. The bedroom was on an upper floor. In an instant, she resumed the form of the black Persian cat and slunk unseen from the room.

Partway down the corridor, the ancient house-elf walked with a shuffling step. The cat pulled up short and darted behind a suit of armor, eyeing the elf with caution. Had it seen her? Apparently not. The addled, old elf trundled down the hall, muttering to himself.

"Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black, served his Mistress well. Then that blood traitor of a son, what a disappointment to his mother, what would she say if she knew that poor Kreacher had served him." He laughed fit to burst. "But Kreacher is clever, so clever. The prodigal son ordered Kreacher to go, and Kreacher must obey. Kreacher ran away to serve Mistress' sister." He cackled again. "The blood traitor is dead, he cannot order Kreacher anymore. But Kreacher will always serve the noble house of Black. Always serve..." The muttering voice trailed off down the hallway.

With padded paw, the feline crept out from behind the armor and down the corridors of Malfoy Manor. She had not been inside this house in more than a decade, but her memory served her well. In short order, she found her way to the front foyer. The massive paneled front doors with their brass serpentine grillwork and ornately carved handles towered before her, her escape route now only meters away.

She surveyed the entry hall, formulating her plan for her final dash to freedom. The front door lay directly in front of her. The entrance to the gentlemen's smoking room lay to her right. The entrance to the parlor was to her left. The door to that room was ajar. She could hear Malfoy's voice and that of Minister Cornwall's in whispered conversation. But the acoustics of the hall were such that she could hear every word from her position crouched near the floor. She froze, listening.

"Now, I say, old chap," Cornwall blustered, "nasty business if those photographs came to light. Can't afford a scandal, you know. You are sure that the young lady will be discreet?"

"Miss Pennywort has confided the details of your affair to only me," Malfoy said in a conspiratorial whisper. "As a favor to you, I can exert my considerable influence over her to ensure her silence."

"Righto," Cornwall replied with a sigh of relief. "That would be much appreciated."

"In return, however," Malfoy continued, "I have certain requests of my own. Political favors."

"Anything." Cornwall urged. "Anything at all."

"Actually, you will be doing everyone a favor," Malfoy said. "As a governor on the board of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I have watched the decline of Headmaster Dumbledore with concern."

"Dumbledore?" Cornwall rejoined, his voice rising in surprise. "Great wizard. Everyone thinks the world of him. Splendid chap."

"Yes, that may have been true in the past," Malfoy said in silky tones. "But lately I fear that he has grown senile and therefore incapable of executing his duties. Perhaps, you are not aware of the events of recent years? The old man hired a werewolf to teach on the faculty."

"You don't say," Cornwall blustered. "Appalling."

"Yes, and unfortunately true," Malfoy concurred. "He also coddles a half-giant as gamekeeper and instructor. My own son was nearly killed in his third year by a beast beset upon him by the giant oaf. You cannot imagine my dear wife's horror."

"Must have been ghastly," Cornwall exclaimed. "The beast was destroyed, no doubt?"

"No," Malfoy said. "In fact, the Headmaster allowed the blood-thirsty beast to escape. At the same time that the notorious Sirius Black escaped from Hogwarts. Slipped right through Dumbledore's fingers. And these examples are but a few of the errors and miscarriages of justice that I have witnessed these past six years. Do these events sound to you like the actions of a sane wizard in full possession of his faculties?"

"No, no, indeed not," Cornwall said. "But what do you want from me?"

"I need your help to remove Dumbledore from Hogwarts and his gamekeeper as well," Malfoy whispered. "For the public good, of course. You see, he is still affectionately regarded by the many members of the board. But I am afraid that their affection blinds them to his faults."

Ravena gasped. The involuntary sound escaped her mouth in a feline hiss that echoed in the voluminous foyer. She did not wait for Minister Cornwall's reply. She dashed for the front door. In an instant, she assumed her human form. Her hand reached for the door handle. Then with horror, her ears heard the sound of approaching footsteps. The Minister and Malfoy had concluded their business and were coming her way. She had delayed too long at the doorway, eavesdropping on their conversation.

In panic, she tried to force the door handle open, but it was jammed and wouldn't budge. Her gaze flew to the gentlemen's study. She dashed for that door, opened it, and stepped inside. The sounds of the footsteps echoed on the polished marble floors in the foyer. She slid the study door shut and flattened herself against it, her heart pounding at her narrow escape.

Then she heard a high-pitched squeal of surprise from behind her. She spun around with her wand drawn at the ready. Her startled eyes stared down into the face of a short wizard with small watery eyes. Before she could react, a glistening metallic hand grabbed her wrist. She screamed with pain and dropped the wand. In the next instant, she was hit with a hex and fell unconscious to the floor.

* * * * * * * *

The basement dungeon was dank and dim. The absence of windows barred all daylight from this foreboding space. Light from several torches mounted on the rough stone walls cast menacing shadows across Malfoy's furious visage. Ravena faced him with a defiant glare, her ankles and wrists bound with shackles and chained to the wall. She had endured his threats and intimidation, but still refused to yield the information that he desired.

"So you still will not cooperate," Malfoy snarled. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you have caused me?"

"That's what you get for sending a boy to do a man's job," Ravena spat.

Malfoy raised his hand and struck her across the face. Ravena's head snapped back in response to the blow. She tasted the blood in her mouth. Her cheek stung. But that was nothing compared to the stinging rage growing within her own breast.

Medea, her mother, surged forward and seized Malfoy's arm before he could strike another blow. Ravena eyed her traitorous mother with contempt. In the shadows, her mother's wrinkled face looked even uglier and more sinister. A sneer of disgust worked on the corners of Ravena's bloodied lips.

"Lucius, you promised not to hurt her," Medea begged.

"I have tried to be patient with her," Malfoy snapped, shrugging free of the old woman's clawed grasp.

"Let me try," a female voice hissed from the shadows.

Ravena's head whipped around to stare into the face of a woman with heavily-lidded, haunted eyes and an imperious gaze. Bellatrix Lestrange strode toward the prisoner. She whipped her wand from the folds of a black cloak. She pointed her wand at Ravena's chest. Her face twisted into a nefarious grin. She cackled, a high-pitched, insane laugh.

Ravena watched her mother's eyes fly open with alarm. The old woman leapt with a spryness that belied her age. She seized Bella's wrist.

"No!" Medea screamed. "You promised."

"Get out of my way, old woman," Bella shrieked.

The Death Eater flailed her arms to extract herself from the old crone's clutches. In her fury, she flung the old woman to the floor. Medea Hawkins lay panting on the cold slab of concrete, clutching a stitch in her chest. But her eyes narrowed in murderous hatred toward that Lestrange woman.

Ravena knew her mother's wrath. Her mother might bend her will to that of her cousin, Lucius, whom she worshipped. But she would step aside for no one else. Medea Hawkins would not be denied.

Ravena watched her mother's fist clench around her wand. The cold eyes glistened with malice. Her gnarled hand raised the wand, bent on destruction. Wrinkled lips mouthed an evil incantation. Blazing light fired from the wand and sped toward the Death Eater. Light met light, as hex met with defensive curse.

Then a flash of fatal green flew from Bella's wand. The spell hit the old woman square on the chest. The lethal hex struck, bringing instantaneous death. Ravena stared in stunned silence at her mother's corpse, loathing frozen on Medea's wizened face.

Ravena's gaze now flicked to Bella's face. The Death Eater's lips were turned up into a contemptuous sneer. Bella Lestrange threw back her head and let fly a mirthless laugh that echoed throughout the dungeon chamber. Its heartless ring sent shivers up Ravena's spine. She knew that her time at Bella's hand had come.

The Death Eater raised her wand and aimed it once more at Ravena's chest. Ravena braced herself for the torture that she knew was inevitable now. But to her surprise, Malfoy stayed Bella's hand. His gaze focused on Ravena with a calculating look.

"Leave this to me," Malfoy commanded. "If you reduce her to madness with your torture, she will be of no use to us. Do you wish to incur the Dark Lord's wrath? This must be handled delicately."

Bellatrix Lestrange shot Malfoy a frustrated glare, but she complied with reluctance. She lowered her wand and stepped away from the prisoner. Ravena let out her breath in a rush of wind.

Malfoy's cold gray eyes now bored into Ravena's ashen face. His hand reached into his vest pocket and extracted a small object. He opened his palm to show her a lapel pin in the shape of a serpent. Perhaps the dim light of the dungeon played tricks upon her eyes, but the pin appeared to wriggle in his palm, the sideways sweep of a sidewinder gliding across the shifting dessert sand.

"Where did you get that?" Ravena exclaimed with alarm.

"I see that you recognize this little artifact." Malfoy chuckled.

"Yes," Ravena gasped. "Cleopatra's Asp. Mother owned one."

"Well done," Malfoy drawled. "This is, in fact, part of her collection. A charming piece, to be sure. A cursed pin that bores into the veins of the wearer, causing excruciating pain and agonizing death. An untraceable poison. No cure." Malfoy eyed the cursed object in his palm with an appreciative stare. Then the smile on his face transformed into a threatening grimace. "Now tell us what we want to know."

Ravena stared at the pin in abject terror. She swallowed hard, trying to force the lump from her throat. She closed her eyes and attempted to steel her courage. Her proud head lifted to expose her neck to him.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "You'll have to kill me then."

An angry hissed escaped from Bella's lips, like a cobra prepared to strike. Ravena cringed. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, bracing for the deadly prick. But Malfoy merely laughed. Ravena's blue eyes fluttered open, a look of shock on her face.

"Your bravado is touching," Malfoy drawled. "But this pin is not intended for you. Perhaps a certain Potions Master who has betrayed our cause will savor its bite. It would be so simple to administer and he would be none the wiser. That is until the poison begins to work in his veins." He chuckled. "Cooperate and I will spare his life."

Malfoy paused to gauge the effect of his words on Ravena. Her eyes flew open wide in horror. Her lips hung open, trembling. Not Severus. Anything but that.

"That's a good girl." A triumphant smile crossed Malfoy's lips. "Now where can we find your cousin and her werewolf husband?"