Unbidden Love Chapter Five

Chapter Five: The Twist

Hermione was thrown to the ground in a heap, sending dust and ash flying in all directions. For several minutes she lay on the floor, coughing on dirt and trying to brush ash from her eyes and face. It was not until her vision was clear that she realized where Malfoy had taken her – a run-down shack in the midst of a wide forest. The walls, ceiling and old wood flooring were disgusting shades of brown, while the ash and dirt left blotches of black in random areas. There was nothing in the tattered room besides herself and her captor, although Hermione guessed that at one time the place could have been inhabited.

She starred in awe at the poor excuse for a shelter, voicing her questions aloud. “Where did you find this place, Malfoy? Are we even in the same country?”

Malfoy, who had been pacing the floor with his lighted wand, eyed her with distrust. “Always asking questions, aren’t you? Why should I tell a Mudblood how I found this dump?”

Hermione ground her teeth in annoyance. “I am awfully tired of being talked down to like a second-class citizen or child. And I think I have every right to know where we are, considering that you kidnapped me and drug me to this heap!”

Malfoy smirked in apparent pleasure, as if he had forgotten his actions had been kidnapping. “Well, in that case, I’ll devolve enough of my careful plans to tell you that we are in a disowned shack in the middle of a wide forest. Appeased?”

Hermione barely hesitated before grabbing a handful of dirt and pelting it at the ex-Slytherin. She was startled when he whipped his wand around and cast the dirt right back in her face.

Hermione cried out in aggravation as the new dirt clung to her face and frizzed hair.

Damn that boy and his quick reflexes! she cursed to herself.

“I take it you’re still unhappy,” Malfoy observed, pursing his lips as if pondering the situation. “Is it any consolation to know that we are far from the rest of the Neo-Death Eaters and their cruel tactics?”

“No!” Hermione hissed as she tried to remove the dirt, but this task was impossible considering her hands were as covered with dirt as the rest of her body.

Malfoy chuckled at her distress, twirling his wand between his fingers like it held all the power in the world.

“I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you, Malfoy!” Hermione spat, hands falling to her sides. “Do you not remember Harry’s words to you? This whole ‘capture’ thing is complete rubbish…you and your mates can never win this game. Just because you managed to keep me with you doesn’t mean your side is ahead!”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows with interest. “Oh, really? How much do you know about this game, Granger?”

Hermione’s mouth closed instantly, caught off guard.

“I thought so,” Malfoy grinned. “Our plot is complete secret, so don’t even try to pry it out of me. It may seem like our cause is hopeless, but soon you all will realize we aren’t completely ignorant.”

Hermione merely rolled her eyes at his speech. “Speaking of complete rubbish, tell your lies to someone who actually cares, Malfoy. So are you going to get my wand back or do I have to take yours?”

Malfoy’s eyes lit up with something close to satisfaction. “Neither. You’re a lover of adventures, Granger; how ‘bout I give you one?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t like the sound of your game.”

“Well that’s too bad, because I’m rather fond of it.” Malfoy motioned with his wand to the dense forest outside the empty window. “You wanted to know where we are, so why not go find out yourself? I’m anxious to ring your parents’ house tonight to see if you made it.”

Hermione growled low in her throat, causing Malfoy to step back a few inches. “Why you foul little…”

“I thought we were through with the childhood name-calling?” He quickly recomposed himself, acting as if he hadn’t backed away at all. “I realized your words make sense, Granger, which rarely happens if I might add.”

Hermione frowned, unable to conceal her surprise.

“There’s no point in keeping you here when you’re not what we’re after. You were just a tool to get Prince Potter to come to us, but recently we learned that we don’t need The Chosen One after all. So why should I deal with a filthy – in the literal sense of the word – “He wrinkled his nose at her grubby appearance. “ – little Mudblood? I have better things to do. So you should get down on your hands and knees and thank me for releasing you at last.”

She winced in horror at the thought. “Nev…”

“But before I go, I must ask you a simple question.”

Hermione almost laughed at his unexpected comment. “What new information can I give the master of the Neo-Death Eaters?”

“Just one thing…who were the ones that tried to rescue you?”

Hermione froze, not comprehending his strategy. Why would he ask such a stupid question? There had to be a catch…

“There’s no catch, Granger. Just give me a straight answer.”

Hermione pursed her lips indignantly. “Fine. Harry and Ginny. You should know that seeing as you spoke to them.”

“Hmm.” Malfoy stroked his chin in puzzlement as he turned and headed toward the one door in the whole shack. “Peculiar, isn’t it?”

Hermione’s frustration had reached its peak. “Cut the crap, Malfoy! What are you getting at?”

He gave her the oddest smile then – at first glance she thought he looked sad, but then his face changed and the smile was one of smugness.

“Nothing. It’s just I thought you were intelligent enough to realize who was there tonight and who wasn’t.” With that, he Apparated at the doorstep and left her in darkness and confusion.

It was then, only a minute later, that the worst pain erupted in her chest. It was worse than the spell Malfoy had hit her with back in her cell, or even the pain of being thrown off her broom. This was a different kind of pain. For Hermione realized that it was Harry who had come to rescue her, not the one whom she thought would. The one she had been dreaming of night after night; the one she longed for so much it felt like her heart would break in two.

Ron had never come for her.

*

“Hermione?”

She had been walking in a complete daze, she realized it now. She narrowed her eyes to focus her vision on the figure approaching her. If her brain had been functioning, she would have at least been weary of the figure, but all she could do was halt in the midst of the trees and lean against a trunk wearily.

Right then she didn’t care if the person coming for her had good or bad intentions. She was too exhausted to fight them off, anyway.

But tears came to her eyes when she recognized the short statue and fiery red hair of a man close to her heart.

“Mr. Weasley?”

Arthur Weasley sighed and studied her with intense pity. He took her into his arms straightaway, the deteriorated state of Hermione’s body not affecting the strength and eagerness of his hug. The tears pooled from her eyes further when she realized how long it had been since someone had held her like this.

After a long moment of emotional reunion, Mr. Weasley held Hermione by the shoulders and studied her thin figure, filthy skin, and greasy hair. His eyes, too, began to water when he met the pure desolation of Hermione’s expression. She held not one emotion back from him; she was too weary to even try and mask her pain.

“My dear child, what have they done to you?” he whispered in horror.

Hermione hated seeing Ron’s father so upset, so she mustered a small smile for his benefit. “It could have been worse,” she said, her voice so frail it was barely audible. “Nothing done to me is long-lasting, Mr. Weasley, honest. After a few days’ rest I probably will be fine. At least Draco let me go.”

Mr. Weasley’s eyes widened with either fear or shock. “Draco Malfoy?”

“How many Dracos are there in this world?” she asked, wincing at her pitiful attempt at humour. She was trying too hard to appear unaffected, which was clearly failing.

Mr. Weasley gave her another quick squeeze before saying, “Don’t worry anymore, Hermione; you’re safe. I’m going to take you to The Burrow and I require you to stay until you’ve healed. We’ll ring your parents and explain everything.”

Hermione nodded dully before an urgent question sprang to her mind. “Mr. Weasley, where are we? Malfoy brought me to a shack a few hours ago, and I’ve been wandering around this forest ever since. I’ve been too exhausted to Disapparate, otherwise I would’ve tried. I was terrified of being stuck here when night…”

Mr. Weasley shook his head and cut her off with a flick of his hand. “Stop talking, dear, you’re going to wear yourself down even more. We’re only a few kilometers from the outskirts of London. You’ve been close to civilization all this time, although I dread the thought of what might have happened to you in such a busy city. Without a wand and the way you look…” He shook his head again in distress. “Merlin’s beard, I’m just glad I found you now. Let’s go now before we draw any attention. Who knows what may be wandering around the forest now, especially if the other Neo-Death Eaters knew where Malfoy had brought you.”

Hermione had never enjoyed the process of Apparation more than that second when she traveled to The Burrow with Mr. Weasley. She did not think about whom or what she might meet when she arrived. All that mattered was the wonderful, undeniable fact that she was now in safe hands…

They Apparated by the shower, which Hermione was entirely grateful for because now she could bathe before meeting anyone else.

Mr. Weasley brought her a pair of tan trousers, a violet button-down shirt, socks and worn trainers. “They’re Ginny’s, so they may be a bit small for you, but…”

“No, they’ll work fine,” Hermione replied, eagerly taking the clothes. “I cannot express my gratitude for all…”

“I’ll have none of it,” Mr. Weasley said hastily. “You’ve always been and will always be welcome amongst my family, Hermione. This is nothing compared to what should have been done for you weeks ago. You have no idea what stress your capture has caused among all of us. This is the least we can do for now.” He was beginning to get emotional again, so Mr. Weasley quickly cleared his throat and motioned toward the shower. “Take your time in there, and we’ll have supper ready when you come down to the kitchen. After that you can rest for as long as you want.”

Hermione knew the best way to express her gratitude was to embrace Mr. Weasley again, which she did with eagerness. After he had left her alone, Hermione stripped down in the bathroom and longingly turned on the shower. She knew her barriers had completely broken when she wept long and hard under the stream, for it had literally been weeks since she had been allowed to bathe properly. Her body was encrusted with dirt and sweat, and her hair was so full of knots and clumps of filth that she had to shampoo three times before she was satisfied.

After what seemed to be hours of careful cleansing, Hermione carefully dressed in Ginny’s clothes. Even though her body was finally free of dirt, she still avoided the mirror. The dirt may have been easy to remove, but Malfoy’s spell had created a decent scar on her stomach and innumerable bruises discoloured her skin in several different areas. The last thing she wanted now was concerned stares and never-ending questions.

The fatigue, which had been ever-constant during the long day, hit her with renewed force when her body had relaxed under the warm water. She then wanted nothing more than to skip supper and crawl under the duvet, but she knew that her appearance at the table was close to mandatory. She knew she had to get this first meeting out of the way before she could completely relax.

Thus, Hermione pulled on the socks and trainers before slowly heading down the stairs into the warm, welcoming kitchen.

There, Hermione met a multitude of concerned though eager faces. The way each face turned to stare the instant she approached made her stop in her tracks. Her eyes quickly glanced at the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Harry, Percy, George, Charlie, and…Ron.

Hermione consciously avoided Ron’s hesitant expression, instead smiling at the other faces and taking the seat Harry had eagerly pulled out for her. Before she sat down, Harry embraced her tightly and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered in her ear.

Hermione smiled, mouthing a “thank you” as she sat in her chair. The food in front of her had never looked so freshly made or appetizing, but Hermione knew that she could easily get sick after consuming even a small portion. At least she was certain Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t be offended.

The table was uncomfortably silent for a moment (with Ron staring anywhere else but at Hermione) before Mr. Weasley stood with wine glass in hand.

“I would hate to call this gathering anything close to a ‘celebration,’ so perhaps Hermione will allow me to call it a meal of appreciation.” He smiled affectionately at Hermione, tears glistening in his eyes. “Appreciation for the safe return of someone whom we all love so dearly. We never would have thought that any new danger was lurking after the War, but this new development has chilled us all. Although we finally have Hermione home safe with us, we never would have thought it would take so long. We owe it to Hermione to confront this problem with all fierceness, searching for and apprehending those evil Death Eaters who tried to destroy our happiness.”

“Well said, Mr. Weasley,” Harry approved, standing in turn and holding his glass high. “I’d like to add that we should also congratulate Hermione for her fierce perseverance. We all knew that Hermione was intelligent and strong, but her resolve to keep going no matter what is bloody remarkable. Tonight I ask you to toast our friend who stood against the Death Eaters once more and survived.” He raised his glass high. “To Hermione!”

“Hermione!” the rest echoed joyfully, clinking glasses with their neighbours.

Hermione knew her face was flushed like a cherry, but she smiled gratefully at the people around her. She had never expected such praise that night, and although she longed for sleep more than appreciation, she could not help but shed a few tears at their love and support.

“Thank you so much,” was all she could say after the salute had ended.

“Are you lot done talking?” George piped up. “This turkey has been taunting me for a millennium.”

Hermione smiled fondly at George, although her stomach had clenched at the sudden realization of what memories had been uncovered with her dilemma. How come she had survived an encounter with the Death Eaters again when George’s twin had not? What made her so special?

But she had to commend George for his own fierce resolve to keep living, despite the loss of his closest friend and confidante. She knew that he felt it was up to him to continue the pranks and jokes the Weasley twins had been infamous for. Their shop in Diagon Alley was still thriving, thanks to George’s work ethic and part-time assistance from Ron.

Ron…

Hermione’s eyes rested for the first time on Ron’s freckled face, which was now red with some uncomfortable emotion. He silently ate his food, his eyes never leaving his plate. A painful annoyance rose in her gut. So the tradition had continued…it was to be Harry who fought for her survival and spoke loving words to her. Ron had neither the courage nor, seemingly, the want to express to her his emotions.

What the bloody hell was his problem?

Hermione had opened her mouth to speak to him when Mrs. Weasley, apparently unaware of the tension between her son and Hermione, tried to catch her attention.

“Hermione, love? As much as you may want to, you shouldn’t eat much tonight. The food is too rich for your sensitive stomach, I fear.”

Hermione managed a smile, tearing her gaze from Ron. “Of course, Mrs. Weasley. I understand. I don’t think my stomach can handle this food, either.”

So she resigned herself to a glass of water, bread, and a small portion of noodles. Even this pathetic amount felt amazing to her stomach, although she was hardly concentrating on the process of eating. She could not keep her mind off Ron, and the more she thought about it, the more depressed she became. It became difficult to keep the grief down, but she knew that suddenly bursting into tears was not the best way to avoid attention.

It was ten minutes into the meal when Ronald himself broke the quiet side conversations occurring around the table.

“Mum, has the post arrived yet?”

Mrs. Weasley frowned at her son’s eagerness. “Of course, Ron. You should know when the post…”

“Did I get anything?”

“I think so. One small letter from someone in Wales, I think. I put it on the counter there…”

It was completely unlike herself to be so nosy, but something in her gut warned Hermione that Ron’s letter was more than just sales rubbish. The small, white envelope, she saw, was placed on the counter directly behind her head. So, before anyone could magick it from her, she snatched the letter and tore apart the envelope before anyone was any the wiser.

Hermione’s instincts turned out to be correct as her eyes quickly scanned the small, curly print of the handwritten note. A thousand different sensations flooded her mind and body as she comprehended the just of the note, but pure shock and rage took over.

Ron got over the shock of Hermione’s actions first. His first words to her were one of vicious accusation and horror.

“Hermione! Get your bloody hands OFF…”

“Come and get it, then!” she taunted, pushing her seat back and rushing from the table. She held the letter high above her head, like her older cousin used to do when he held a prized toy above her and she was too short to reach. “Apparently this letter was to be kept secret, or else you wouldn’t have cared who read it. Didn’t you once say we should hold no secrets from each other? Apparently we had different concerns whilst I was on holiday!”

Ron’s face was aflame with anger, but he tried to sound calm as he slowly held out his hand. “Come off it, Hermione; you don’t know what you’re doing. Just let me explain…”

She laughed high and cruel. “What, and continue to believe your little game? Now I know why you didn’t try to rescue me in the fortress. Now I know why you’ve been avoiding me all this time. You’ve got someone else on your mind, haven’t you, Ronald Weasley?”

Hermione didn’t wait for him to respond before tearing the note in half three, four, then five times before it was nothing but scraps of paper littering the floor. The utter anguish on her ex-lover’s face was priceless – he stared at the remains of his letter like it was the remains of his dreams.

Hermione didn’t dare face the expressions of the other people at the table. She merely brushed past Ron like he meant nothing to her and ran up the stairs with as much energy possible.