Four Weddings & A Funeral

Chapter Sixteen

Hermione stood at the spot marked with the old post. Despite being dusk, it had been easy to find and recognise from the description in the owl that had arrived that morning. She looked down at the post, only about three and a half feet tall, leaning over slightly and grey from exposure to the elements; it appeared to have been placed haphazardly beside a tangle of old trees - most of which looked half-dead - on the side of a narrow, winding, country road. It had one distinguishing feature however, not visible to Muggles, and that was a green stone, set in the top of it that gave off a rather sickly glow. Hermione peered at it a little closer, sure she could see something in the stone and gasped when she realised that the something was a tiny snake, obviously charmed to appear alive as it writhed sinuously within the confines of the stone.

She straightened with a slight shudder and wondered how much longer she'd be standing here, waiting for she knew not what. Then a green glow on the ground in front of her feet caught her eye and she looked down to see the words "pick me up" glowing against the grass; Draco had reported via Phineas that a Portkey was used to gain entry. So simple. Taking a deep breath she bent down, her hand reaching out...

*

Ginny had spent the day drifting in and out of light, fitful sleep, aware she was using it as a refuge from reality; she had found herself jerking awake at odd moments, her heart racing from nightmare-induced fear, nightmares in which Lucius Malfoy played a large part. She'd also spent a good amount of time going over and over the events of the last few days and crying, feeling despair seeping into her soul. How long? How long before - what? Anything! For someone to come! - and then she heard the door open and glanced up, assuming it would the little house-elf with her dinner as dusk was beginning to fall. But it wasn't. It was Draco. He closed the door carefully, ensuring he made no sound before moving silently across the room, his robes making only the slightest rustle as he walked. When he reached her, he knelt down in front of her; after looking at her and taking in her red eyes, full of misery, and her tear stained face, he leant forward to whisper in her ear, his hands resting on the sides of the chair. She couldn't know that seeing her so was causing him great distress and he needed to take a deep, steadying breath before speaking.

'I knew you would be going a little crazy not knowing anything. I'm going to tell you what little I know. I've just been told my father has ordered Latro to leave him undisturbed until dinner - he's in his study - so I knew I would have time to see you, talk to you - although I don't have long - he's arranged for guards for all of us and they'll be here shortly. I'm sorry I can't lift my father's spell and let you move or talk.' He was silent for a few seconds before continuing as though struggling with his inability to help her. 'The day you were kidnapped I received an owl from my father that he had you and wanted me to come here or he would -' Draco hesitated and decided against saying "kill you" despite those being the words his father had actually written and said instead, 'hurt you. I went straight to Dumbledore and told him, after which we went to your home - everyone there knew of course you were missing but didn't know where you were until we arrived. Granger has also received an owl and I think the reason my father doesn't wish to be disturbed is because she is due to arrive this evening. He would have used the threat of harm to you to ensure she would come.' As he did with me.

Ginny's head was reeling as she tried to take in everything Draco was saying. Everyone knew - Dumbledore was involved - Hermione was coming? What about Harry? And what about Dean? She wanted to scream with frustration at not being able to ask questions. Draco moved back a little so that he could look at her. As though he could read her mind, he said softly, 'I know you must have a thousand questions - I will just try to tell you everything I know.' Then, as he continued, she forced her attention back to his words, closing her eyes to help her focus.

'My Grandfather Phineas - I think he's actually my Great-Great-Great Grandfather according to my mother - is able to overhear some of what happens here through the landscapes in the house.' Ginny's eyes flew open and darted to the beautiful landscape paintings hanging along the far wall, wondering if Phineas had been in any of them. Had Phineas been listening that morning? Had he reported back what Lucius had done to her and to Draco? Draco followed the direction of her eyes and nodded. 'Yes, he's checked on you, he's told me. He was the one who told me my father was shutting himself away in his study.' Ginny knew Draco had thought of the same thing when he said, 'And no, he wasn't in here this morning - he was reporting to Dumbledore.' Ginny wasn't sure if she was glad of that or not. 'Dumbledore told me he expected Granger to come, then finally Potter. I've told them how my father and the others get in and out of here - it's not possible to Floo or Apparate because of the spells my father has put on the place. Phineas says Dumbledore is working on a way to break in with a team of Aurors and Hit Wizards once Potter's here. Because my father knows I won't leave while you're here he doesn't bother to restrain me, so I'll be doing everything I can to find out whatever I can and pass it on through my grandfather.'

He stopped and Ginny opened her eyes only to find Draco's grey eyes studying her intently. She looked at him, wondering if there was anything else he could tell her.

'Ginevra, I am so sorry for what my father has done to you - and what he did this morning,' Draco's gaze dropped and she could sense his discomfiture and embarrassment. He lifted his eyes to hers once more, a crooked, self-deprecating smile in place as he said, 'but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it gave me a tantalising glimpse of what it would be like if you felt for me even a tenth of what I feel for you.' He shook his head slightly then as though to remove such thoughts. His voice, when he spoke again, was cold and implacable. 'My mother is dying because of a curse my father placed on her - she is slowly going mad and she's dying. I swore I'd kill him for that and now -' he looked into her eyes once more and she was amazed anew at the love and passion she saw there, '- he's done this to you. He has reinforced tenfold my vow to kill him and die in the attempt if necessary.'

He stood up abruptly. 'I have to go, but remember - everything is being done to free you and I don't doubt that between them, Potter and Dumbledore will succeed.' He turned and left, his heart pounding. He hated himself for the desire that had swept over him as he knelt talking to her - the desperate desire to kiss her knowing she would be powerless to stop him - but he didn't want to give her reason to hate him anymore than she did already by giving in to it.

*

Hermione stood immobilised, unable to speak, in the middle of a room she guessed was a study, going on the myriad bookshelves, desk and couches. She was able to move her head, but not any other part of herself as Lucius Malfoy checked her jeans pockets, her jumper and coat, looking for something. Then he straightened and looked down at her, a slight smile on his lips that didn't reach his eyes. His hideous red eyes. Hermione wondered what had happened to him.

'So, you didn't bring your wand? Surprising...'

Idiot! thought Hermione. Why would I bring my wand just to see you break it? She glared at him, trying to convey to him the loathing she felt.

He slapped her suddenly then, across the face. 'Don't look at me like that you insolent, filthy Mudblood.'

Hermione felt dizzy from the impact but decided that it wasn't wise to provoke him any further, so she kept her eyes downcast, her cheek stinging; she fought back the tears that were forming, determined not to show any weakness.

Malfoy took a seat in the Chesterfield before the fire, levitating Hermione to stand at the end of the lounge so he could see her; she was grateful for the warmth provided by the fire, staring into the flames so that she didn't have to look at Malfoy.

'So, Potter has obviously been able to ignore the activation of that flawed charm of his. I doubt even the great Harry Potter would have succeeded anyway, with the Anti-Apparition Spells I have in place. I imagine he was crying when you left, the fool.' Malfoy's voice was full of contempt as he spoke and Hermione looked up at him, wondering whether he wanted her to answer or not.

'Well?' His tone was full of menace. She shook her head, looking down once more, afraid her hatred for him would be only too clear in her gaze.

'Do you now how I was able to get that traitorous Weasley here?'

Hermione shook her head again, curious despite herself.

'That silly little witch - Laycock - the one that works with you, she's as easy to read as a book.' Priscilla! Hermione felt for her friend, knowing she would be distraught when she found out. As it was, Hermione assumed Malfoy meant that "as easy to read as a book' could only mean he'd used Legilimency on Priscilla, but when? Could he do it from afar? But he was talking again and Hermione wanted to hear what he was telling her. 'And so it was simple to see she'd be an easy target for the Imperius Curse. She did a good job of getting the Weasley witch outside where I was able to Disapparate with her back here. And I'll wager that Dumbledore wouldn't dream of using Occlumency on any of you to find out anything in case it "harmed" you - the old fool. So, now I have both bits of bait - you and Weasley. And I have my traitorous coward of a son. All I need now is Potter. And he'd be terrified of what I might do to you, wouldn't he?' Malfoy's voice was full of self-satisfaction, knowing the answer without hearing it. 'Of course he would be. Good. I hope he agonises over it every second of every hour.' Hermione closed her eyes, desperately willing herself not to cry. Malfoy's mocking words were only too true and it tore at her to know that Harry would be at the Ministry, or the Burrow, doing precisely that; before she'd left to make her way here, he'd simply held her tightly to him, unable to speak.

Malfoy lazily reached out his hand and a book that was lying on the desk across the room flew to him. He opened it to a previously marked page and sat there, reading as though he was alone, completely ignoring Hermione. She was sure it was a deliberate move to unnerve her.

As Malfoy read and sipped from a glass of what looked to be red wine, Hermione surreptitiously looked around the room, trying to see if there were any paintings on the walls; she moved very slowly so as not to attract Malfoy's attention and felt a jolt of hope when she saw a large landscape of the English countryside on the wall over the desk. She hoped Phineas knew of her arrival and had reported back to Dumbledore and Harry. She wished she could've confirmed that she'd also been brought into the house with a Portkey. Not that Malfoy would conveniently provide a force of Aurors and Hit Wizards with a Portkey into his home, more's the pity, she thought wryly.

*

After Latro (which Ginny now knew to be the name of Malfoy's wretched little house-elf) had left her for the night, lying on the four poster bed once more, Ginny heard the door to her room open again and felt fear clench at her stomach. Who was it? What were they going to do?

She heard a single set of footsteps then gasped as Hermione came into view, obviously levitated by Lucius Malfoy who was walking behind her with his wand pointed at her.

They stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds, relief in both gazes at the sight of the other - unharmed and alive. Then Malfoy spoke, malicious amusement in his tone. 'See ladies? You're both here, unhurt. And tomorrow Potter will be told he can come. And then the fun really begins.' Ginny cringed inside, wondering what Malfoy was planning but Hermione, her spirit still strong, looked at Ginny, trying to pass some of her strength to her friend through their gazes. Tears sprang into Ginny's eyes and Hermione's eyes softened with the pain she felt for her friend while her heart hardened - Malfoy was going to pay for all this.

*

Harry wasn't sure how it was he was managing to function, although in truth he was only going through the motions of living in the manner of an automaton. When an owl arrived at the Burrow the following morning, he felt released as relief and a renewed sense of purpose overcame him. His instructions were almost identical to Hermione's, telling him to be at the old post near Malfoy Manor at sunset that evening. When Molly had wondered why Malfoy was spacing out the arrivals of his victims, Dumbledore told her the same thing had occurred to himself and Harry: they felt sure he was doing it deliberately to prolong everyone's suffering and misery. And prolong his own enjoyment.

After reading Malfoy's instructions, Harry left immediately for Neville's office, bearing the small roll of parchment, fuelled by impatience; sunset suddenly seemed a long way off.

Towards the end of what had felt like the longest day he'd ever lived through, Harry came to stand on the same spot that Hermione had occupied the previous evening. Harry too, glanced with repugnance at the small, writhing snake within the glowing stone before taking several deep, steadying breaths as he endeavoured to prepare himself for whatever was to come.

*

'Potter.'

Harry looked around, feeling the Portkey (a green glass paperweight with the head of a striking snake inside it) leave his hand and turned to watch as it flew to a large, leather-topped desk behind him, his eyes then moving up to see Lucius Malfoy standing behind the desk; the Portkey had brought him into what was obviously Malfoy's study. Harry noticed that although Malfoy's arms appeared to be hanging, relaxed, by his sides, he had his wand in his hand. Then disgust swept through him as he registered Malfoy's appearance. Merlin's beard! He must've been employing some of Voldemort's methods to prolong his life by the look of him. And those red eyes were eerily reminiscent of Voldemort.

'Welcome to Malfoy Manor.'

'Malfoy.' Harry's tone was deadly flat and did not pretend to be civil.

'You're looking well, Potter, considering you must be under considerable strain.'

'Where is she?' Harry couldn't prevent a mixture of hate, tension and fear from carrying in his voice.

Malfoy's thin lips stretched hideously in a smug smile. 'You shall see her soon enough.'

'Both of them.'

'Only both of them? Not the three of them? Surely you're concerned about Draco, too, Potter,' Malfoy's voice rippled with sarcasm.

'I don't give a damn about your son,' Harry replied, his voice cold as ice.

'Neither do I. Nor do I give a damn about your Mudblood or that blood traitor.' Malfoy's voice was even colder than Harry's.

'So what is it you do give a damn about?' Harry felt the tension creeping throughout his body. His mind screamed at him to knock Malfoy down and run and find Hermione - and Ginny - but he had to resist the impulse, not knowing what precautions Malfoy may have taken to cover just such a situation.

'Only myself. And what I want. Nothing and no one else matters.'

Harry stared at Malfoy, saying nothing.

He caught the slight movement of Malfoy's wand arm and his right hand flew up, palm out, to take the curse as it flew at him. As he closed his fist, destroying the curse, Harry caught a tiny flicker of surprise in Malfoy's eyes though it was quickly suppressed; he'd no doubt been testing for Harry's response and if he was at all impressed, he didn't allow it to show. Harry wondered if Lucius would attempt to take his wand from him. Not that it would do him much good - it was concealed in such a way that even Malfoy wouldn't be able to find it.

Speaking as though nothing had happened, Malfoy said, 'The first thing I want is for my world to be free of you and my son. If I get what I want, I may even let those two filthy witches go.'

Harry didn't believe him for a second. However, he said coolly, 'It's not very often we get what we want, is it?'

'On the contrary, Potter, I'm always used to getting what I want - in the end.' Malfoy then turned and walked towards the door. 'Follow me,' he said curtly. The fact that Malfoy didn't exhibit any concern at Harry being behind him, spoke volumes to Harry - about Malfoy's confidence in his personal protection as well as the measures he'd taken to prevent Harry freeing Hermione and Ginny.

Harry followed Malfoy from the room, his heart leaping at the thought that he was being taken to see Hermione. Despite Phineas' assurances, he wanted to see for himself that she was unharmed.

But when he did see her, he felt both terrible fear and enormous anger assail him, sickened by her predicament and his inability to do anything at that moment to alleviate it.

Malfoy had taken him to an upstairs bedroom, passing a number of doors along the right of the landing which looked down over the entrance foyer below. Harry wondered briefly which of them might be hiding Ginny and Draco Malfoy from view. Malfoy had opened the last door on the right and with a sweeping gesture, directed Harry into the dim room, lit only by a candelabra set on a low table sitting across the end of a single four poster bed and the last feeble rays of the setting sun. Not that he could know, but this room was almost identical to that which Ginny occupied, just a little smaller. Hermione was laying on the bed, obviously immobilised, with a black-robed Death Eater standing by the bed, holding his wand to her heart, a long, dangerous looking knife in his other hand which was hanging by his side with deceptive nonchalance; he could feel the Death Eater's eyes on him - watching for the slightest defensive movement on his part. Harry didn't doubt for a second that should he attempt anything, Hermione would die instantly but he couldn't prevent his hands curling into painfully tight fists as fury burnt through him...

He'd no sooner had time to take it all in - his heart racing as his gaze locked with Hermione's, her eyes widening at the sight of him - than Malfoy stepped in front of him and pushed him out of the room, closing the door firmly behind them.

'You'll have a room to yourself tonight, Potter, and you won't leave it or make any attempt whatsoever to see or contact your pathetic Mudblood,' Malfoy told him as he led him back downstairs and into another bedroom; Harry's still tightly clenched fists jerked convulsively at Malfoy's words but he managed to keep them by his side. The room Malfoy ushered him into was much smaller than the one Hermione occupied upstairs and was, unknown to Harry, part of the servants' quarters. As he turned to look at Malfoy, who was standing in the doorway with his fingers curled around the door handle ready to leave, Harry felt a sudden rush - a fierce desire to simply strangle Lucius Malfoy with his bare hands then and there and to hell with the consequences. His stomach churned with the effort necessary to prevent himself from moving - he couldn't risk doing anything like that, at least not yet...

'Don't even attempt to leave this room, Potter,' Malfoy repeated in a condescending tone. 'Even you cannot hope to tackle three different Death Eaters in three different rooms at the same time and while you may - although unlikely - be able to save the first one, two others will die; as if by your hand. So don't even consider it. Just wait until tomorrow.' Suffer until tomorrow! thought Lucius with malicious triumph, knowing Harry would indeed be suffering throughout the long night, drawing immense satisfaction from this fact; he thrived on inflicting mental anguish.

*

After Harry and Malfoy left, Hermione felt as though she wanted to scream in frustration and hatred at Malfoy - while at the same time she wanted to run to Harry - she wanted Harry to obliterate Malfoy and take her away from here - but at the same time her "sensible" side knew the best thing she could do was to get as much sleep as possible. She glanced up at the Death Eater standing guard by her bed and felt a chill run along her spine on seeing his flat, cold grey eyes staring at her from beneath his hood. Forcing herself to ignore him, she shut her eyes and dredged up memories - happy memories - which eventually wove themselves into fitful dreams until she finally fell asleep.

Ginny took longer to fall asleep. Having already experienced the emotional torture Malfoy was capable of, she was fearful of what the next day would bring, especially now that he had all of them under one roof. And the almost black, dead stare of the Death Eater standing beside her bed did nothing to alleviate her fears.

Draco was also under guard, although not restrained in any way. This was due to his father's confidence that while he probably did not care about Hermione, he would not take any risks that might jeopardise Ginny's safety - and his father was right. A hooded Death Eater stood in front of the door to his room and Draco, who was laying on the large, four poster bed, spoke to the Death Eater, his voice conveying enormous boredom with the whole situation and heavy with barely concealed contempt.

'I don't suppose you know what's going on, do you? No, you're only a henchman. Still, I'm sure that was Potter my father was talking to on the landing - no doubt my father took him in to see his Mudblood, Granger.'

The Death Eater did not even appear to have heard him, but Draco continued nonetheless. 'My father obviously didn't put Potter here in one of the upstairs bedrooms, either. Perhaps in one of the old servants' rooms downstairs - my father would think that was fitting for Potter. And I'll wager there's one of you in both of the witches' bedrooms.' Draco smirked. 'Not in Potter's though. Who would want to stand guard over the great Harry Potter? No one here would have the guts.' Still the Death Eater acted as though he was deaf.

Deciding he'd said enough to enable Phineas Nigellus to make a report to Dumbledore, Draco yawned and dismissively turned his back to the robed guard, appearing to sleep; his mind, however, didn't let him sleep for some time as it insisted on dwelling on Ginevra and his constant concern for her.

Harry lay on a small, lumpy bed, sleep eluding him for a long time; he was unable to put the image of Hermione lying on that bed with the Death Eater leaning over her out of his mind. The screaming desire within him would not let up - it hadn't stopped since he'd first arrived in Malfoy's study; he just wanted to get up and run from this room - find Hermione - get her away from here...make her safe, keep her safe...

Harry realised he was close to being overwhelmed by panic and forced himself to clamp down on it immediately. He needed to stay clear-headed to ensure he could think and act quickly when it was time. For Hermione...for Hermione...and it was with the rhythm of his heart beating in time with the sound of her name that he eventually forced himself to sleep.

*

Whilst Malfoy Manor was dark and quiet, back at the Burrow there were flickering candles on the kitchen table as vigil was kept by the heartsore and exhausted Molly and Arthur Weasley and their son-in-law, Dean; Priscilla was coming to visit them every few hours, making fresh tea, endeavouring to get them to eat just a little but usually without success. Neville and Dumbledore, too, were frequent visitors, seeming to harbour a need to be there rather than just Floo; it was as though they too drew some strength from numbers. Ron and Luna had joined the vigil, Molly having finally given in - needing as many of her family around her as possible and asked Ron to forgive her for not telling him sooner. Ron had told his mum there was nothing to forgive - he told her how much he and Luna appreciated the wonderful memories from those few precious, untouched days, memories they would always have, despite everything else. Charlie, too, had visited that day and he, as well as Bill, was Flooing regularly to check on developments and to offer words of encouragement.

Shortly after Priscilla left to be with Neville, who was still in his office, Professor Dumbledore arrived to give them the latest report from Phineas.

'Phineas heard Lucius Malfoy tell his house-elf not to disturb him until dinner and shut himself in his study so he joined him, via the landscape of course. Harry arrived - also by Portkey, which is the only method of entry we've seen, although I'm sure Malfoy himself has other means. Malfoy tried to hit Harry with the Cruciatus Curse, which Harry fended off. Then -'

'Fended off?' interrupted Ron. 'What do you mean? That he just - stopped it?' He sounded incredulous; he hadn't known Harry could do that.

The Professor gave Ron a weary smile. 'Yes, I've shown him how to do that - although if he didn't possess the innate ability necessary, he couldn't have learnt it. It's not something he advertises - you know Harry.'

Ron rolled his eyes. 'Yep, I know Harry. Trust him to be able to do something stupendous like that and not say anything.' Ron suddenly sat bolt upright in his seat as though electrified. His eyes widened as he stared at Dumbledore, unaware that as he spoke, every other pair of eyes at the table also swung to stare at Dumbledore, waiting for his answer. Ron had asked, awe in his voice, 'Does that mean he can stop the killing curse too?'

'We don't know, Ron. We haven't tested that, for obvious reasons, although it would be highly unlikely.'

'Albus, please tell us more about the situation at Malfoy Manor,' Arthur Weasley's voice sounded strained, as indeed he was; the effect of the constant worry and heartache over his daughter's safety - and now Hermione's and Harry's - was only too obvious.

The old wizard nodded as he continued. 'Malfoy took Harry to see Hermione before putting him in a room downstairs. Phineas heard Draco - ostensibly talking to his guard - plainly attempting to relay details of the current situation to him. We don't expect any more to occur tonight - whatever Malfoy has planned will no doubt take place tomorrow.'

What he didn't tell them was that Narcissa Malfoy had been moved to Hogwart's hospital wing late that afternoon, unconscious and gravely ill. He'd told Phineas Nigellus, asking him to use his discretion in telling Draco the news; he didn't voice his fear that Narcissa would die before Draco had a chance to say goodbye. Dumbledore doubted Phineas would get the chance to speak to Draco or any of the captives now that guards had been placed on them all, save Harry. Dumbledore wished he could lighten everyone's hearts a little by giving them a hint of how he and Harry were planning to defeat Malfoy; but it was too much of a risk as only he and Harry were capable of fending off any attempts to either control them or enter their minds. He suppressed the smallest of smiles as he contemplated the surprises in store for an unsuspecting Lucius Malfoy...