Secrets and Masks

18. Dead witch walking

TW; graphic depictions of wartime violence and gore, disfigurement, and suicide

10th March

"Your carriage awaits, princess.

"You're barking mad if you think I'm going anywhere with you!"

Nott had the audacity to tut and roll his eyes. "Jesus fuck - Malfoy said you were going to be difficult about this. Look Granger, I'm going to be honest with you, I don't have time to fuck about and play games this morning. He pushed himself off the doorframe he was leaning on and into Hermione's room. "Normally," he said in a low, playful voice, "I love games, fucking adore them. There's nothing more satisfying than toying with a witch.

Nott crossed the room in three easy strides, twirling his hand loosely between his fingers. Hermione took a few cautious steps to the left, putting the large four-poster bed as a shield between them, but Nott was all too quick to walk around it.

He stood a breath's distance away from her, a sly smirk peeling its way onto his features. "And believe me when I say, I really, really want to play games with you sweetheart. His eyes darkened as they raked over Hermione slowly, leisurely. "There's nothing more satisfying than watching a pretty little thing squirm while they try and dissect every word I say, thinking every twitch of my hand could either be a curse, or a caress. He raised his hand towards her face as if he was about to tuck a stray curl behind her hear, Hermione instinctually tried to slap it away -

But Nott moved quicker than she did. He caught Hermione's wrist before her blow could land and dragged it down to rest against the bottom of her stomach. She tried to slap him with her other hand, but he caught that one too. She struggled as he pinned her wrists together with one hand, then sharply withdrew his wand and conjured a set of metal handcuffs around her wrists.

"I admire your tenacity, I really do," Nott said teasingly, his eyes down as he checked her restraints and put his wand back beneath his robes. "But the Dark Lord is rather pissed at me, and today we simply don't have the time to play. He looked up and caught her eyes again, the most devilish smirk cracking across his face. "He's planning on a very public announcement in Whitby, and you're the guest of honour. He's assigned me to deliver you there, all shiny and undamaged. No excuses, no exceptions. And he'll have my cock on a spike if we're late.

After being dragged through the manor by Nott - kicking and screaming the whole way - Hermione found a black carriage and two Threstrals on the gardens waiting for her.

As soon as they were in the air, she spent the entire journey discreetly checking for weak spots in her restraints, trying to find a rusting link or a weakness in the spell. Unfortunately, Nott's charm work was impeccable, just like it had been at school. The chains were unbreakable, strong as stone.

The carriage ride itself made Hermione feel sick. She'd never been good with flying. She'd always hated it; it made her feel dizzy and nauseous. She was too analytical for flying, that was the problem. There were too many things that could go wrong. Too many equations that didn't add up. Too many factors that could tip the scales and send her hurtling towards the ground with no safety net and headfirst into a horrifying death. She didn't think she could hate flying any more than she already did. Thought the short flight on the dragons back after her robbery at Gringotts was the worst moment of her life. Then she was forced to share a carriage with two vicious, murderous Gold Masks, and she realised she would happily ride the Ukrainian Ironbelly again, from London to Australia with a smile on her face, a thousand times over.

Every time Hermione flinched, Zabini would narrow his eyes at her from across the carriage. Every time she shuffled on her bench, his hands would curl a little tighter around his wand - the wand that was conveniently aligned with Hermione's stomach, threatening her, reminding her that one wrong move might earn her a nasty Cruciatus curse.