Devil Doesn't Bargain

The Tower

Again.

Hermione gasped for air and clung to Malfoy's arm.

Again.

Nausea twisted her insides, but she squeezed her eyes shut.

Again.

This time she actually vomited, and he tapped his foot impatiently as she wiped her mouth.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Seven times they apparated, hopping all over the continent to discourage being followed. While serving with the Order, Hermione hadn't realized how paranoid Voldemort was; only Malfoy knew of their instructions, and he'd been given them via legilimency. Even so, they were required to travel in cloaks and masks, then follow the convoluted apparition path. Not for the first time, she cursed the dark lord that now controlled her future.

Bile rose up in her throat and she clenched at her stomach. Although Hermione's body might have withstood the magical transport sometime last year, today she was still fighting the effects of her darling imprisonment. Every apparition drained her further, and by the time the two of them reached Austria, Hermione thought she might pass out.

Fortunately, she had a snarky companion to keep her otherwise distracted.

"Lovely of you to join me, Granger. I especially enjoyed the part where you gagged over my shoes."

She glared at him with as much dislike as she could muster. "Sod off, Malfoy. It's not like I wanted to be sick."

His eyes glittered behind his golden mask, but he only tossed her a corked vial. She caught it instinctually and sniffed the contents. Dittany. She gulped it down, feeling the restorative effects immediately.

"Cheers."

"Don't mention it."

Malfoy turned to examine their surroundings. Resting at the foot of the Austrian Alps, the view was breathtaking. Lush green slopes painted with wildflowers filled Hermione's vision, and her hand covered her mouth in awe. She'd never seen anything so striking. When she craned her neck, she could just make out the tip of the nearest incline.

A butterfly fluttered around her nose, and she gently reached out a finger for it to rest on. Hermione closed her eyes and sucked in a lungful of the clean mountain air. In the height of summer, there wasn't even a chill in the breeze. What a stark contrast to her confinement at the manor.

When she opened her eyes, she found Malfoy staring at her pensively. She raised an eyebrow and showed him the butterfly.

"Isn't she lovely?"

He studied her for a few seconds before responding. Something like confusion marked his expression. "Yes. She is."

Hermione flicked her fingers lightly and the little insect flew off. "I thought it was supposed to be cold here."

He rolled his shoulders back and gazed up at the range. "It will be, but only where Nurmengard is located. There is ancient magic in place to keep it frozen in winter all year round. It's some sort of psychological torture the old Russian wizards developed, both to confuse the prisoners' timing and always keep them slightly chilled."

"That's terrible."

"Yes, well, the inmates are terrible."

"You're terrible."

Malfoy bowed sarcastically. "Thank you for noticing. Now," he reached out a hand invitingly, "shall we?"

Hermione batted his hand away but followed him forward. From here until they reached the prison, archaic apparition wards were in place. Instead of simply barring apparition, they were designed to shred the insides of any trespassers. This meant that for the next few kilometers, they'd be walking. Not that Hermione minded. She would soak in all the sunshine she could get before facing their mission in the desolate prison.