MTL NOVEL Chapter 7: Chapter 7:
Hermione leaned against the shower wall and slid down the tile. Unable to keep the tears that streamed from her eyes, unable to choke back the sob that ripped its way up her throat as she screamed. She screamed and she cried until her limps ached and her throat was hoarse. Her body convulsed, lungs threatening to collapse as she allowed herself to let go. To feel.
She so rarely got to feel anymore. She'd witnessed so much death, seen so many bodies burnt beyond recognition. Sometimes, she just needed to let it out. Let the grief wash over her, exorcise herself of those emotions, vanquish them from her body by her private tears or screams.
Until eventually, there weren't any tears left. And she was left empty, again.
Everyone attended Colin's funeral. Every single surviving member of The Order of the Phoenix tore themselves from their tasks to pay their respects - except for Kingsley and a few other senior members. They were probably too busy cooing over the artefact.
They had to cast several extension charms to lengthen the basement so everyone could fit into the tight space. And as the funeral began, everyone huddled together, clutching onto one another for comfort and support.
Despite only being several months younger than Harry, Colin still looked very young. He'd had a small growth spurt somewhere around the age of fifteen, but he looked small. Innocent. It might have been his blond curls, or that his cheeks had never quite lost that youthful roundness, but Colin had always looked several years younger than his age. Always looked closer to being sixteen than in his mid-twenties, and if possible, he looked even younger now the colour had left his cheeks.
Harry made a speech. He gave a small eulogy of Creevey's life; his accomplishments, his undying loyalty, and infectious smile that seemed to lift the spirits of everyone around him. 'A pure soul', Harry said. 'One of the best'.
Muffled sobs filled the air as attendees cast fire hexes to ignite the pyre. Most began to file out when the burning started, too upset to watch the body of one of their own burn to ashes.
Hermione stayed - she always did. Harry, Seamus, Ron, Luna, and Neville too. They all stood side by side in silence, watching the flames lick higher and higher, eclipsing their friend and disintegrate him into nothing. And as the familiar smell of a burning body filled the air, Hermione prayed to every god she could think of - Muggle or otherwise - that Colin's death hadn't been for nothing.
29th November
"I didn't think you were going to show," a deep, gravelly voice said from behind. "Thought you'd forgotten all about me."
Hermione spun toward the sound and drew her wand, aiming it at his throat on instinct. The tip lit with a small green light; the killing curse ready, the incantation at the tip of her tongue.
"Wow, wow, wow, easy there killer." She could hear the smirk in Medusa's voice as he held his hands up, showing her that he wasn't armed - not yet. She knew all too well how quickly he could draw his wand and point it at her temple; he'd done it enough times during their meetings. "Don't shoot the messenger, Lilith."
"I don't have time for games Medusa," she snapped, the charm on her voice box unnaturally distorting the words. "What's the information?"
"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast," he said, waving his index finger at her. "First things first, you made a right cock-up last week. I told you to be careful. You almost lost the artefact. Do you have any idea how valuable that thing is?"
Her fingers twitched to hex him. "My cock up? Are you serious? The team followed your instructions! And thanks for telling us about The Vhaltera Dagger by the way; they almost died because of that thing! If it's anyone's fault, it's yours because of your shitty information!"
Medusa tilted his head to the side. She could tell he was mocking her, even from underneath his mask. "I wasn't there. Don't blame me because your team was underprepared. I gave you enough; the location, the time, the size of the group. Everything else is on you. Your teams' failure is on you."
Hermione couldn't help but flinch, or stop her spine from straightening.
"I take it you lost one of your own?"
Hermione stayed silent. The grip on her wand tightened, her knuckles turned white as she swallowed the bile in her throat. Colin's death was still too fresh, like scratching an open wound. The impulse to lash out was growing stronger, each cruel torment from Medusa's tongue another lashing that pushed her towards the edge.
God, how she wanted to kill him some days. Wanted to tear his eyes from his skull and shove them down his throat just to silence him. He always seemed to know how to get under her skin, rile her up to the point the rational part of her brain dulled and she was a slave to her impulses.
That couldn't happen today. She needed to be calm. Couldn't risk pissing him off and losing their rat. Couldn't kill him right there on the spot like a dog. No matter how much she wanted to. He was too valuable; his information was too important.
"I'll take that as a 'Yes' then."
"Why are you even doing this?" she snapped, an acidic lilt creeping into her voice. She didn't lower her wand. "Isn't it a little late for redemption for you? How much blood is on your ledger?"
"Oh, I've lost count, sweetheart. The list goes on and on." Medusa started to circle her; predatory, the way a wolf circles a baby deer. "But I don't pretend to be something I'm not. I know what I've done, I know who I am. Do you know who you are?"
"What are you getting at? I don't have time for games. Spit it out!"
Medusa chuckled under his mask. His pace slowed a little, but he didn't stop circling her. "How does your Order feel about some of your foot soldiers casting killing curses? I hear from a very reliable source, that the Granger girl has become quite the little murderer, and I know she's not the only one. They wouldn't have sent you to me, into the snake pit as it were, if they didn't think you could defend yourself. So, I wonder, how much blood is on your ledger?"
It was a test if she'd ever heard one. A challenge. An open invitation for an execution. He knew the effect he was having on her, probably guessed it from the way her chin jutted out defiantly, or the deadly green light illuminating from the tip of her wand.
Hermione took a calming breath, feeling her shoulders tense and relax before they slumped altogether. She finally lowered her wand. "More than I would like. It keeps me up at night, as it should. But this is war; we don't have time to be gentle anymore."
"Indeed. Spoken like a true Death Eater," Medusa said as he finished another rotation. She could feel his gaze burning into hers as he made another round. Examining her, dissecting every twitch of her hand and micro movement. Sizing her up. "I wonder, were you a Slytherin back in Hogwarts?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Ah, it seems I was mistaken. Only a Gryffindor would roar at such an accusation. You lions are all the same; your bark is always worse than your bite."
Hermione snorted, feeling her lip twitch upwards into a sort of smirk. "I can prove you wrong if you'd like?"
"Yeah? What were you thinking? Small Knockback jinx to the knees? Little blinding hex to leave me vulnerable for ten minutes? I know you lions don't like to use lethal curses if you can help it."
"How about a hex that boils the blood in your brain?" she asked, loving the way he paused at her words, like it caught him off guard. "Nothing brightens up your Tuesday evening quite like seeing a man fall to his knees in agony."