The Lost Horcrux

Internal Affairs

Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse (including rape) on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasley's and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history and the HP real-life timeline.

***

Hermione blinked as the darkness cleared and she clutched at her chest. She felt as though her entire being had been squeezed through that feeling you get when missing a step on the stairs. Her chest felt tight, her breathing laboured, and there was a jittery shiver that was racing along her skin from head to toe and back again. It took a good few seconds for her to settle down and assess her surroundings.

She found that she was sat on a sloping lawn, well manicured, which led uphill to a large manor house of some considerable size in the distance. It was night, and the moon dappled the dark grass with a tint of silver. Up ahead, the many windows of the house were all lit and Hermione could see figures moving in them, quite indistinct from this range. There were more silhouettes on the terrace and in the gardens surrounding the house, and the light sound of an orchestral waltz drifted to Hermione on the breeze.

It was as if the house were playing host to a ball or reception of some sort, and Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that she, herself, was somehow invited.

She looked behind her as she tried to decide what to do, and caught a surprised breath in her throat. For she was sat on the banks of a wide, fast flowing river, and on the other side was ... nothing. She couldn't see through a curtain of thick, dense fog, unable to tell if that bank was lush and fertile as this one, of merely miles of endless black desert. It was a jarring thought.

Hermione decided her best bet lay in the manor house up ahead, so she stood and struck out for it. The road to get there led through elaborate gardens and Hermione stopped to consider new marvels as she passed through them. Every tree was resplendent in rose-pink blossoms, or groaning under the weight of golden apples; there were fountains of champagne-coloured water, which actually turned out to be champagne when Hermione tried a palm full as she grew thirsty, and a pond where rainbow-coloured fish with peacock-feather-type fins jumped and frolicked in the air as if to welcome Hermione on her journey.

"What is this place?" she wondered aloud, as she watched a reddish-purple unicorn graze on silver grass nearby.

Hermione moved on, past a rockery of moonstones with gently tinkling mini waterfalls, past a giant chessboard which looked like the last game had only just finished, and under a winding arch of roses with flowerbeds of lilies and daffodils flanking it on either side.

And after passing all of this, Hermione found that she had gone hardly any distance at all.

She turned out of logical caution, just to make sure she hadn't lost her way, only to find that she'd barely moved from her original spot. She was still a stone's throw from the river, even though she'd been walking away from it for at least three-quarters of an hour. She huffed and took a single step back ... and found that she was exactly where she had started.

"What in the hell?" Hermione huffed out loud. "What is this place?"

She took a step forwards and found herself in the midst of the garden again, only now some people were ambling around her, admiring the flowers or dipping glasses into the champagne fountains. Hermione strode towards them, eager for answers.

"Excuse me, could you tell me how to reach the party, please?"

But the black-haired man simply ignored her. She might as well not have existed for all the attention he gave to her.