The Wild Hunt

December 23

"Knockturn Alley."

Hermione's whisper echoed Blaise's words. Hermione looked around with wide eyes and tried to step even closer to Blaise. He let her go and stepped away from her so abruptly she almost lost her balance. Dimly she heard a distant church bell tolling the last stroke of midnight and shivered at the sound.

"Send not to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee," Blaise quoted, looking around with a twisted smile.

"Stop it!" Hermione hissed, hugging her arms to herself. She couldn't believe it. Blaise had brought her to one of the most infamous wizarding neighbourhoods in all of Europe... and she was unarmed. Hermione felt more frightened and vulnerable than she had felt in years. She couldn't help thinking that it would only be a short while before Blaise's ominous comment would prove to be correct.

Hermione strained to see through the drizzly, gloomy darkness. There were people out there. She might not be able to see them, but she could practically feel their eyes crawling over her.

Blaise grasped her shoulders and pulled her close. "Granger, get a grip," he muttered, quietly, giving her a small shake. "Are you trying to advertise yourself as a target?"

Hermione stared up at him. He frowned when he saw the dazed expression in her eyes. He tapped her cheek lightly. "Snap out of it. How long has it been since you had any sleep, Granger?" She barely responded to his voice. He settled her cloak more firmly around her shoulders, and grabbed her wrist, urging her down the cobblestone road. "Come on," he said quietly. "It's not safe for us to be standing around out here."

Hermione's eyes continued to dart around and she jumped at every sound she heard. The deeper they progressed into the hazardous depths of Knockturn Alley, the more spooked she became. Blaise finally lost patience with her. She was so far-gone that she hardly seemed to comprehend that he was there, much less what he was saying. He was trying not to show it, but he was getting very worried about what might happen if they didn't get to a relatively safe place soon. Unconsciously, he tightened his fingers on her wrist until she gasped in pain and tried to pull away from him, gracing him with a scorching glare.

"Still in there, Granger? Good, I was starting to wonder," he said, loosening his hold immediately.

"What was that for?" she hissed, gathering her cloak close to her.

"I was thinking about something," he said shortly.

"Must not have been anything very good," Hermione commented. A moment later, she jumped as another mysterious sound came out of the darkness.

"Stop creeping around like a timid, little mouse," he snapped. "It isn't healthy to look like an outsider around here."

She observed Blaise more closely. He was carrying himself with a greater degree of haughty arrogance than he usually did and a coldly disdainful sneer marred his boyishly handsome face. She hesitated, then pulled her wrist free from his loose grasp and wrapped her arm around his, leaning into him and clinging to him like a limpet. Or like some brazen hussy, which was more in line with the way she looked at that moment.

Blaise stiffened and frowned down at her.

"I'm just playing a part. That's what you wanted, isn't it?" she said.

"Right. That's exactly what I wanted," Blaise said, sarcastically.

Hermione still kept shifting her eyes around, warily. She had never been in Knockturn Alley even during the day. It had a horrid reputation. Aside from the shadows of hulking buildings that seemed to crouch in wait, there wasn't that much to see in the feeble light cast by the occasional street lantern. Darkness obscured almost everything around her.

Looking around, she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. On one hand, she didn't like not knowing what was out there. On the other hand, she wasn't sure that seeing what was out there would really make her feel any better.

A lopsided, sagging building across the narrow street caught her eye. It was not an impressive sight. There was enough light for her to see that the door was a garish, bright purple that clashed horribly with the ghastly, mustard-coloured shutters and pillars that flanked it on either side. If the rest of it was just as bad as the entryway, it was a singularly ugly structure, but the light filtering out through the shutters looked warm and inviting to her at that moment. Hermione paused, looking at the building wistfully. "What is that place?" she asked.

Blaise spurred her back into motion with a sharp tug on her arm. "It's a whorehouse. Do you want to spend the night there?"

Hermione stumbled, her stiletto heels getting caught in the rough cobbles. "No, I certainly don't," she grumbled.

"Didn't think so," Blaise muttered.

"And how do you know that, anyway?" she snipped back at him. "Spend a lot of time there, do you?"

"What if I do?" Blaise asked. "You are in no position to dictate my morals anymore."

Hermione sniffed. "You used to have some standards."

"Oh, and look where that got me," Blaise countered. "Jilted by the only witch I ever..."

"What?"

"The only witch I ever asked to marry me. I won't be making that mistake again, any time soon."

"I don't imagine you'll find a witch willing to put up with your temper, any time soon," Hermione said, under her breath.

Blaise came to an abrupt stop. Hermione looked up at the soot-stained, crumbling edifice looming over them.

"This is going to be our temporary home," Blaise announced.

"It's a pub," she pointed out.

"We'll be able to rent a room. I know they have some available."

Hermione was too tired to even question how he knew this seedy pub so well. She doubted he'd tell her anyway. She simply stared up at the magnificently ugly structure in resignation. The dark purple sign hanging from the rusty iron bracket over the door had a painted image of a starved-looking, black bird that strutted from side to side, occasionally flapping its wings and cawing raucously. "The Gaunt Raven," Hermione said, reading the florid, red lettering proudly emblazoned across the bottom of the sign. "I imagine we'll be avoiding the food here, then."

***

Blaise was arranging a room for them to stay in. Hermione turned around, looking for some place where she could sit down and rest. She couldn't think of a time when she'd ever been this tired before, not even during the year she'd used the time-turner to take extra classes.

"Well hello, little missy," an oily voice said close beside Hermione. She spun about, backing away slightly from the revolting specimen of a wizard standing so close to her. He was dressed in black with long, stringy, grey hair and a pallid, sickly complexion. The only touches of colour about him were from his bloodshot eyes and his violet top hat.

"Dawkes at your service," he said, with a grin, sweeping his top hat off his head. Hermione caught a glimpse of his crooked, rotting teeth as he bowed low. He teetered alarmingly when he straightened up again, almost falling against her. When he brushed his greasy hair out of his face, she saw that his eyes were glazed, either from Firewhiskey or illicit potions. "A little thing like you shouldn't be all alone," he slurred, stumbling closer even as she tried to back away.

"Oh, I'm not alone," Hermione said, but he didn't seem to be paying attention.

Dawkes reached out and pulled her cloak back so he could see her properly. "Well, aren't you a fine little pullet?" he said. His tongue snaked out to lick his slack lips as he looked her over and Hermione shuddered in revulsion. She stepped back again, but she wasn't quick enough to evade him. She discovered that his deceptively spindly appearance hid a wiry strength when his arms snaked around her.

Hermione could smell his sour breath when he bent down to kiss her. She turned her head as she desperately twisted away from him and he ended up mashing his wet lips onto her cheek. Even that was enough to make her stomach rebel. She was suddenly very glad that she hadn't eaten in almost two days. She almost got away from him when he briefly lost his balance on the uneven floor, but he managed to grab her arm and he began to pull her toward him again, scowling in displeasure.

"Uppity wench, aren't you?" he panted. "Think you're too good for Dawkes, is that it? I won't take that kind of impudence from the likes of you. No better than you should be, and still putting on airs. I'll give you something to remember me by, that I will." His voice descended into incoherent rambling as he began to drag Hermione toward the door.

Blaise turned away from the bar and searched for Hermione. He cursed under his breath when he saw her predicament. She hadn't always been this much trouble, had she? Or had he just been too besotted to notice? Maybe she'd done him a favour by jilting him.

Hermione tried to pull out of Dawkes' tight grasp, but he simply would not let go. She looked around wildly, trying to catch somebody's eye, but everybody was studiously looking away from the little drama being played out in their midst. It seemed that a strict policy of non-involvement was the norm in seedy pubs in Knockturn Alley. To her relief, Blaise was suddenly beside her again, prying away the strong, wiry hand that was wrapped around her upper arm.

"This one is mine," he growled threateningly, "and I'll thank you to keep your hands off my property."

"Your property? How does the little witch feel about that? She seems like the independent sort," Dawkes asked with a gap-toothed leer.

Blaise pulled Hermione very close and grasped her chin, tilting her face up to his. "Who do you belong to, little dove?" he asked, looking down at her with glittering eyes.

Hermione stared up at him. "You," she said, weakly. "I belong to you."

Blaise's mouth crashed down on hers in a hungry kiss. It happened so suddenly and was over with so quickly that it made her head spin. "It will take a better wizard than you to catch me by surprise," he drawled contemptuously, as soon as the kiss ended. When she pulled back, she realised that Blaise had his wand drawn and levelled at Dawkes, who had obviously tried to draw his own wand while Blaise was distracted.

"Sweet Merlin," Hermione breathed, under her breath.

Blaise looked at the older wizard over Hermione's head and gave him a cold smile. "Like I said, this one's mine. You'll just have to find your own whore to warm you up," Blaise sneered. "I believe Mistress Overdone rents them out by the quarter-hour," he offered, helpfully.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at Dawkes who was glaring at Blaise, his lips curled back in a savage snarl, exposing his hideous, ragged teeth. Dawkes was making a variety of strangled, gabbling sounds, but she couldn't make out any real words.

Hermione shuddered and turned back toward Blaise, who still had one strong arm wrapped around her waist. When Dawkes didn't immediately retreat - as any smart wizard would, when confronted by a Zabini in a temper - Blaise narrowed his eyes, looking at the other wizard challengingly. "Unless you want to fight me for her?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Hermione's nerves stretched tight while she waited for Dawkes to make his move. Apparently, the precariousness of his situation finally penetrated his alcohol-fogged mind. Dawkes spat on the floor, missing Blaise's shoe by only a couple of inches and then turned to stumble out of the pub. He kept casting dark looks over his shoulder as he went, muttering incoherently to himself, but he didn't pause.

As soon as Dawkes was gone, Blaise withdrew his arm from around Hermione. He turned her around and steered her toward the stairs in the back corner of the common room. He muttered quietly in her ear as they walked. "I've got us a room here. Come on. I'd just as soon not attract any more attention than we have already."

Wearily, Hermione navigated the narrow, creaking staircase. Her earnest wish that their room would turn out to be on the first floor was cruelly dashed when Blaise told her they were staying on the third floor. The climb seemed endless to Hermione.

Their room was just as unprepossessing as the rest of the building, with peeling dingy walls, an uneven wooden floor and worn, sagging furniture. Hermione was dismayed to see that there was only one bed.

Blaise, noticing her expression when she saw the large, solitary bed, sneered slightly. "Yes Granger, there's only one bed. I think that I can be trusted not to ravish you while you sleep." He looked her over critically. "You look like you're dead on your feet. Just get ready for bed. We can talk when you wake up."

Hermione blushed uncomfortably at his comment about being ravished in her sleep, but didn't say anything. She was too tired to fight about it. Nodding, she disappeared into the bathroom to have a quick shower.

Hermione undressed and rinsed out her dress. It was looking worse for wear and getting washed and wrung out before being slung over the curtain rod to dry was not going to improve its appearance. She didn't feel she had much of an option, though. It was getting rather grubby. It was too tight to sleep in anyway, so there was no reason why she shouldn't just wash it and let it dry overnight. The only problem was that she didn't have anything besides her knickers to wear while she was sleeping.

She cracked open the bathroom door and peeked out. Blaise was pacing back and forth, frowning in thought. "Blaise? Do you happen to have an extra shirt I could wear to sleep in?"

Blaise stopped his pacing and looked toward the gap in the doorway. He could just barely see Hermione looking out at him. "What?" he asked, distractedly. "No, I don't."

"Umm... could I borrow your shirt?"

"My shirt? Why?" he asked, irritably.

"I can't wear my dress and I don't have anything else to wear."

Blaise snorted. "Don't expect me to play the chivalrous knight. I have to wear this shirt tomorrow and I'm no good at ironing charms." When he heard an indignant squeak from the bathroom, he said, "Oh, stop being such a ninny. You're going to be well-covered by a sheet and a blanket."

"Well then, will you close your eyes until I'm covered?" Hermione asked, plaintively.

"Why so shy, Granger? It's not as though I don't have more than a passing familiarity with your body." Blaise smirked. He could practically hear her seething from across the room.

Hermione dithered on the other side of the bathroom door, biting her lip indecisively. She would have liked nothing better than to hex Blaise for putting her in this difficult position. Just because they had once been lovers didn't mean she felt comfortable parading around in front of him in her knickers, now! The smirk on his face decided her.

Heart pounding, she threw open the door and strolled out of the bathroom head held high and almost completely starkers except for her knickers. Just as she reached the bed, she threw a glance at Blaise. She saw that her brave, defiant gesture had been wasted; Blaise had turned his back to her and was staring out the window. Hermione slipped into the sagging bed, feeling that it had all been a bit of an anticlimax, somehow.

Blaise, watching her reflection in the window, cursed himself for getting mixed up with Hermione Granger again. This whole escapade was going to be nothing but trouble. He could feel it in his bones. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be able to stop himself.

"You're still mine," he whispered to himself, as he watched her slide under the covers.

***

Hannah threw the pieces of the wand onto the desk with an exclamation of frustration. "I'm telling you, this is useless, Draco. I can't use a broken wand to track her." She put her hands on her hips and glared at him with unaccustomed anger. "I'm not going to waste any more time trying."

Draco slouched back in his chair and glowered back at her. "Are you just saying that because you don't want to catch Granger?"

Hanna put her hands on the desk and leant forward until her face was only a few inches away from Draco's. "No," she said, very slowly and clearly. "I'm saying this because it can't be done, you great, overgrown pillock. It isn't easy to do, even with an intact wand. It's impossible with a broken one. If you think you can do better, then you have a go at it." She straightened up again and turned to march out of the office. "It looks like you'll just have to track her down the old-fashioned way," she said, over her shoulder.

Draco scowled at her retreating back and swept the broken pieces of Hermione's wand off the desk with a growled curse. He pulled a thick file folder out of the drawer and began flipping through it, trying to decide what to do next. Where had Blaise taken the aggravating Muggleborn? Had they made a run for it? Or... were they lying low somewhere close by?

***

Hermione, deprived of sleep for so long, didn't wake up until mid-afternoon. The first thing she saw when she woke up was Blaise, standing by the window, looking out broodingly. For a moment, she found herself actually wondering if he had moved at all since she had fallen asleep. When he heard her stirring he turned around.

"Good you're awake," he said, expressionlessly. "I'll get you some food. You look like you haven't eaten right in weeks."

He didn't waste any time, striding out of their dingy room without uttering another word. As soon as Blaise was gone, Hermione got out of bed, grateful to have some privacy. A shower restored her spirits somewhat, although she was still feeling wrung out. She felt as though her life had become a waking nightmare. The prospect of being imprisoned for a crime she hadn't committed utterly horrified her. Only Blaise stood between Hermione and her terrible fate... and she wasn't entirely sure if she could depend on him.

By the time Blaise returned with some food, Hermione was once again wearing her awful dress. Not only was it wrinkled and full of water spots, now it also felt stiff and scratchy from being washed. It was even more uncomfortable than it had been before.

She surveyed the food that Blaise had brought with a jaundiced eye. There was a bowl of stew and a slice of bread along with a tankard of something that looked like pumpkin juice. As unappetising as it looked, she wished he had brought more. She hadn't been eating right for days and hadn't had anything at all the day before.

"Don't eat too quickly. You'll make yourself sick," Blaise said, putting the tray down on the small table in the corner of their room.

To Hermione's surprise, as hungry as she'd been, she didn't feel as though she could manage to eat more than the small amount of food Blaise had brought her. She managed to finish off the stew and the bread - which didn't taste quite as bad as it looked - in a tense silence. Blaise continued to brood, pacing back and forth restlessly, occasionally pausing to stare out the window.

"What's next?" Hermione asked when she had finished eating. "Will you help me get out of the country?"

"No," Blaise said, flatly.

Hermione's heart felt like it wanted to jump out of her chest. She jumped to her feet, spinning to face Blaise. "No?" she asked with panic edging her words. "You won't help me?"

Blaise gave her a grim look. "I won't help you leave the country."

Hermione sat down abruptly. Her head was spinning and there was a ringing sound in her ears. She almost didn't hear Blaise's next words.

"I'm going to clear your name."