Captured

Chapter Thirty-Six: Home

But she had a purpose in being here, and that purpose would help them far more than a temporary fix.

They set off towards the imposing white marble building at the far end of the path, Hermione internally promising herself she would come back and help them as soon as she could, and her heart beating faster with every step they took towards the wizarding bank. She was so focused on their destination, that she nearly stumbled when a beggar intervened in her path. One eye was covered in a bloody bandage, and the other reflected a fierce kind of desperation as he confronted her.

"My children," he shouted, pointing at her. "Where are my children? What has he done with them? You know, you know!"

"I-I really—" Hermione stuttered out, struggling to get her bearings as the wizard in front of her pushed forward, the utter devastation clear in his eyes as he took her hesitation as confirmation that the worst had happened. The man lunged at her, his hands outstretched towards her neck. She stumbled back, trying to get out of reach of those clawing hands, and before she could pull out Bellatrix's wand, a red light with an accompanying bang sent the man flying backwards. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious, and it took everything within Hermione not to drop to the ground beside him and heal whatever damage had been done. She glanced at Ron, whose wand was still held out in front of him as he stared at the man he had just prevented from attacking her. He tucked the wand back within his robes, his hand shaking only slightly as he did.

She looked around at the attention they were now receiving. Some curious shoppers were stepping out into the street, others running in fear as they realised who was in their midst.

She cursed internally, their plan already veering from the path they had spent weeks agonising over, but before she could suggest they find an alleyway to regroup, an unfamiliar voice called out behind them.

"Why, Madam Lestrange!"

Hermione froze, trying to force herself into Bellatrix's mindset as she turned slowly, looking for all the world as though the scene that had just played out hadn't affected her in the slightest. She straightened her spine, forcing the haughtiest look she could manage onto Bellatrix's features.

"And what do you want?" Hermione forced her tone to sound derisive, trying to channel the way she had heard Bellatrix speak to nearly everyone but her own sister. A wizard clad in expensive robes froze in front of her, a look of offence clear on his sharp features. He had greying hair, sticking out from his head in a way that told her it was as unruly as her own bushy curls. His sharp, bird-like features were currently twisted in derision as he stared at what he thought was his fellow Death Eater. She had no idea who he was, but he seemed to know who Bellatrix was and she feared she had made yet another mistake when Harry's whisper floated to her informing her that the man in front of them was called Travers, and was a fellow Death Eater.

"I merely sought to greet you," said Travers coolly, "but if my presence is not welcome . . . "

"No, no, not at all, Travers, how are you?" She scrambled to fix her mistake, trying to skate over the inappropriate tone and banish any reason for him to worry. She hadn't banked on running into any other Death Eaters here, and she didn't know how she'd convince someone who interacted with Bellatrix regularly that she was the terrifying witch. She caught a glimpse of herself in the window behind Travers and clenched her fist, hidden within her robes as she tried to prevent the anxiety clawing its way up her throat.

Not now, not now, not now.

Her heart stuttered and she felt as though all the air had been stolen from her lungs. She struggled to breathe normally instead of taking gasping lungfuls of air like she so desperately needed. Her vision narrowed, black spots appearing at the edges as Travers' voice took on a tinny quality when he responded.