The Death Eaters

The Hand

Chapter Two- The Hand

The sky was stained with twilight when Hermione returned home. She turned onto her street, heels clicking against the cobbles, careful not to trip. Her head was ducked low, hat covering her eyes. It was as though the world itself was different now, somehow more muted, every line thrown into garish distinction. Hermione couldn't help but see the depth of the shadows, the almost sinister way the houses stood side by side, tilting, leering, faces hiding only God knew what sordid secrets. She had to squint at the sudden clarity of it all.

She walked a little quicker despite herself, not slowing down until she was ensconced within her house. "Hello? It's me. Is anyone in?"

Hermione glanced into the front room, fumbling in her pocket for her key. She shouldered her bag higher and shut the door behind her, pressing her key into the lock and turning until she heard the click. Lately, she'd found herself obsessively checking the door, urging (to no avail) that Lavender take her key with her in her purse when she had business instead of leaving it under the doormat as she was prone to do. Lav had laughed at her, tapping her nose and telling her she was overthinking again, warning her that worry made your hair fall out.

Hermione had only laughed nervously, because how could she possibly tell her friend that she had looked into the ink black eyes of the devil himself? Death was on their doorstep and they had never comprehended just how prolific or close He was.

"In here!"

She kicked her shoes off at the bottom of the stairs and hung up her coat and bag, before heading to the back of the house. Parvati sat at the small table in the kitchen, patching up her dress. Padma, her twin, gifted with the same bronze skin, willowy figure and long, sleek black hair, sat at the other end of the table, sipping her tea. She must have just returned from work, for her face was still painted with bright, pretty colours and her fortune teller's headscarf sat limp by her hand.

"How's the new job?" she asked, smiling up at her.

Hermione paused, only to take a breath, but Parvati stopped what she was doing, her head shooting up, eyes narrowed; her eyeliner made her look catlike.

"That bad?" Her face softened when she caught sight of Hermione biting her lip. She sighed. "I know we're low on the dough but you didn't have to quit your job at the post office. I know you enjoyed working with old man Ollivander."

Hermione pressed her lips together, moving over to the counter to put the kettle on. She rubbed at her head, tucking a curl behind her ear, and stole herself for just a moment before she turned and leaned against the worktop. "It wasn't bad," she said. "I'm a very quick typist."

Parvati snorted, putting down her sewing and swivelling in her chair to fix her with a shrewd look. "Granger, you'll be efficient in whatever job you do. But do you enjoy it?"

"It's a lot more varied than the post office," said Hermione weakly.

"Did you see Harry an' Ron much?" asked Padma. "They work at the department, don't they?"

Hermione nodded, twirling her spoon. It clattered against the side of the teacup. "They're more field officers though. Patrolling the street. I'm more- paperwork. Anyway, I've got a trial as a barmaid later this evening. In case it doesn't work out."

Parvati laughed. "Already got a back-up in place, Granger?"

She shrugged, leaving her spoon in the sink, taking a sip. It burnt her lips but she forced herself to drink. "I'm just not sure today." Hermione glanced at the clock. "Where's Lavender?"

"Working."

Hermione met Padma's gaze, and the other girl looked away first, pursing her lips before she sipped her tea.