Weep No More

The silence in the pub was unbearable. Draco could swear he saw some of the men pull out Muggle weapons from their pockets.

"What is your friend doing wearing the clothing of a demon child?" How could have such a simple question brought them into such a big mess?

No one was moving, really. Percy's hand was still wrapped around Hermione's waist; he was trying not to look frightened. Hermione's mouth was open, but no words came out. Pansy was glaring at Percy. Draco, well, he was trying to come up with a quick answer.

"Don't worry," Roget said, breaking the silence. "We do not bite."

"No, you'd just burn us alive," murmured Pansy, but only Draco could hear her.

"It's not a piece of clothing," Draco said suddenly, surprising himself as much as the others. He stood up straight, trying to intimidate everyone in the room. It wasn't so easy when he was somewhat short.

"It's not?" said Roget, amused.

"It's a... trophy, shall we say?" Draco drawled, trying to imitate the way his father talked with the Minister of Magic so often. "A trophy earned by an extraordinaire witch-huntress."

Roget looked Hermione over, deciding whether or not Draco was speaking the truth. "A witch-huntress, eh?" he asked.

Hermione nodded nervously.

Draco rolled his eyes. Leave it to a Gryffindor to not know how to act. "We are all witch-hunters," he spoke up, trying to attract the attention away from Hermione. "Young, yes, but powerful."

Roget scratched his chin thoughtfully. "What business do witch-hunters have here?"

"None, really." Draco leaned lazily against the wall. "We travel the lands like nomads, mostly. Looking for those who understand what we do. Those who understand the need to do what we do."

Percy was giving him a curious glance, which he ignored.

Roget nodded his agreement. "I don't believe I've caught your names," he said. Fiona set down glasses of water in front of them.

Before Draco could say something, Hermione cut him off. "Now, now," she said, in a voice that Draco had never heard before. "Witch-hunters don't trade names in the business."

Ah, of course, realised Draco. That History of Magic lesson he had been to not so long ago about witch-hunters. Names were never, ever given out to someone of the trade. Matters of privacy and all.

"We gave you ours," Roget said, but he looked impressed and, better yet, that he believed them.

"All the better not to give you ours," said Draco.

Roget laughed and so did a few of the others. Fiona smiled at Draco flatteringly. Pansy shot her a death glare.

"Fiona shall show you to your rooms now," Roget said. "Perhaps later we can go over tactics." He looked at Hermione with a smile. "Perhaps your little friend has other trophies to show off?"

Hermione looked appalled and Percy actually started to growl. Draco found it all incredibly amusing.

"Right this way," said Fiona, leading them up a staircase.

They were led down a brightly lit hallway. To each side there were small wooden doors, leading off to rooms. Each door was marked with a number and, under that, a name of a tree. They stopped once they reached two doors painted with a vivid red colour. The one on the red was marked Oak and the one next to that was called Maple.

"The girls will be staying in Maple," said Fiona, "and you boys will be in Oak. The rooms connect by another door inside. You can come downstairs whenever you want something to eat."

Draco groaned mentally. He did not want to share a room with the weasel. But if he said that, he knew suspicions would arise. After all, witch-hunters would tend to hunt in packs, like wolves.

"Thank you," Hermione said, opening the door to her room carefully.

Fiona smiled brightly and hurried back downstairs to Roget.

"Well, we're in a bit mess now," Percy said, as they followed the girls into their room.

Everything in it was a light blue colour, from the curtains to the bed sheets. Nothing was top class, but it had a cosy look to it.

"This place is awful," complained Pansy, despite Hermione's pleased looks. "Draco, I cannot stay here!"

"It's not like we have a choice," Draco said. He settled onto one of the chairs, and looked around.

"We have to get to the Irish Ministry of Magic," Percy said after a while. "We need to get back to Hogwarts."

"We won't be going anywhere in this storm," said Hermione, who had pulled the curtains open, revealing the struggling storm. In the distance, Draco could barely make out a tall crucifix.

An eerie silence covered them. Draco wondered how he could have fucked up things so badly. After all, how wrong can one bloody potion get?

*

Downstairs, away from the magical four, everyone had gathered around Roget and Fiona, gossiping excitedly about the new witch-hunters that had arrived.

"But they're so young!" exclaimed Mr. Cusou, the barman and owner of The Daily Token.

"They must have had a terrible experience to become hunters at such a young age," said Fiona.

Roget scratched his chin. "Indeed, unless... those women are witches and they have bewitched the two boys," he said.

"Roget!" exclaimed Mrs. Cosou. "Do you really think such young ladies could have such power?"

He shrugged and said, "We must examine this from all sides. We can never be too careful."

"They do not look like witches," said Fiona. "Neither of them are an image of beauty, and I felt no bewitchment when they came in."

"We must watch them carefully," said Andrew, Fiona's brother. "If there's the slightest possibility one of them is a witch, we must set them up to Trial!"

"If this storm ever decides to set, though," said Mrs. Cosou, who was not too fond of setting young ones through the Trial, "We must get them back home. If I were their mother, I would be dying of fear for them." Mr. Cosou petted her arm lovingly.

"Whatever comes first then," said Andrew. "Sun or the Trial!"

Fiona shook her head. "Everyone knows Southbire storms can last for days!"

"Then let them be mere mortals, my sister," said Andrew.

*

Draco had been brought up to not show emotions. He had been brought up to be able to not let people get to him, to make him want to yell with fury. He had not been brought up, however, to learn how to stand a Weasley.

"They must have books on magic here!" exclaimed Percy, pacing around their room.

Draco was lying on the bed paying no heed to him.

"There must be some way to get in contact with the Ministry," continued Percy angrily, slamming his fist onto the table. "People at Hogwarts must be worried sick you're not there."

"My father will find me, thank you very much," Draco said, playing with the white bed sheet. Everything in the room was of that sickly colour.

"I really hope my mum's clock doesn't say I'm in mortal peril!" said Percy, suddenly. "She's going to have a fit."

Draco rolled his eyes, and tried to focus on the sound of the rain outside. Anything to block Weasley's constant yapping.

"Dumbledore will find us," Percy said happily. "After all, three of his students are missing. Ron and Harry must have noticed Hermione's absence."

"I'm sure they have," said Draco sarcastically.

"What do you mean by that?" Percy demanded.

Draco shrugged. "Why do you think it was so easy to slip a potion to Granger without her boy wonders to be there?"

Percy's retort was cut off as Pansy yelled, "Weasley! Draco! Come here! Granger is doing it again..."

Both boys rushed into the next room. Hermione was twitching on the floor. Pansy looked scared and was trying to stop Hermione from moving.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

"She just went into a fit," she explained. "Something about seeing the stars."

"Hermione," whispered Percy, not touching her. "Hermione, stop it. You need to stop now."

"She did this when we were in Hogsmeade," Draco said. "She sort of collapsed on the floor."

"Bugger this potion," snapped Percy, grabbing hold of Hermione. "Hermione!"

She stopped suddenly and moaned. "Around, around goes the merry go-round, up, down, up, down," she murmured, her voice one again childish. "That was the song mummy used to sing me. Up, down, up, down."

"Well, that was incoherent," commented Draco casually.

Pansy bit her lip. "Perhaps not quite," she whispered.