Paramour

Chapter 3

Hermione awoke to a bright orb of light floating effortlessly through her bedroom door. It descended to ground before transfiguring into a glowing, lynx cat — Kingsley.

The patronus approached her bed, before emitting Kingsley's voice. "Granger, meet Alastor and I downstairs in half an hour. It is urgent." Hermione scarcely had time to think before the orb disappeared back through her door.

She jumped to her feet, quickly getting ready. Although Hermione had received many wake-up calls from Kingsley's patronus before, this had felt different.

Her stomach twisted, and Hermione thought back the urge to heave. Panic washed over her, a small sheen of sweat forming above her brow. It couldn't be to do with Harry. Harry's death would roar through The Order. His death would warrant more than a patronus message. Hermione's rationale provided her some comfort, slightly easing the painful knot in her stomach.

She quickly descended the staircases, almost tripping on a few occasions. She could hear her heartbeat's repetitive thrumming in her ears, seemingly mocking the repetitive thumping of her feet on the stairs. A pang of guilt struck her chest, as she heard people begin to stir on every floor she descended. Sleep was hard to come by in The Order, even with a dose of 'Dreamless Sleep'. She normally would hate to wake anyone, but her mind was focussed only on Kingsley's words. 'It is urgent.'

Reaching the outside of the laboratory, Hermione stopped and braced herself. Running her hands over her hair and shirt, she attempted to iron out any evidence of her having been asleep minutes earlier. Inhaling deeply, Hermione reached for the doorknob and slowly turned it, opening the door without a sound.

Entering the laboratory, Hermione found Kingsley and Moody in deep conversation. Her gaze darted between the men. They paused, noticing her presence. They hadn't been expecting her for another twenty-minutes, at least.

"Granger." Moody greeted. Hermione nodded at him, unsure of why she had been summoned.

"I'm sure you're wondering why we called you down here this morning, we understand your highest priority currently is brewing a new Polyjuice for Friday's raid, yes?" Kingsley's said. Hermione quickly nodded.

"This arrived this morning." Moody looked down at the table in front of them all, sliding a piece of parchment towards Hermione. She warily picked it up, reading the immaculate handwriting scribed upon it.

'The Order are fools. Allowing your Mudblood to openly forage in an area full of the Dark Lord's most skilled and vicious Death Eaters. I shan't be so kind again. M.D.'

Hermione's breath hitched. M.D. The Marquis — The Marquis of Death.

She had seen him, almost daily, sprawled across the pages of 'The Daily Prophet'. He was there, at every execution. She had watched him in the pictures, glide before his victims like a serpent, before inhumanely ending their lives.

Hermione thought hard and became horrified. He had been the one behind her in the barn. He had been the one to hide her. He had been the one to deliver her back to Grimmauld Place, or as close as. He had been the one to smell of leather and amber and pat— She swallowed hard and placed the parchment back on the table, before slowly looking up at Moody and Kingsley's scrutinising eyes.

"Explain, Granger." Kingsley wasn't asking, he was demanding. Hermione blinked, drawing in a deep breath and straightening herself.

"I— I promise I can explain." Moody eyed her before speaking.

"You told me nothing had occurred. You told Tonks and Remus nothing had occurred. So what is this?" Moody's index finger repeatedly jabbed at the parchment, slightly smudging the ink upon it. "Why would The Marquis contact The Order regarding you? What did you do?" Moody snarled at Hermione, sending shivers up her spine. She had never seen him so angry.