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The Derp Queen
How could she have forgotten Teddy? The infant had been placed in the care of Bill and Fleur after the Battle of Hogwarts and was, actually, inside the cottage. The boy was an orphan, like Harry had been, but this time around his foster family, and the entire Order of the Phoenix would love Teddy Lupin. He was a collage of his parents, a daily reminder of those who had been lost but also a hope for the incoming generation. She wanted nothing more than for the boy to grow up without Voldemort at the reigns of his life. And, to think, the witch had forgotten of his connection to Harry and. Consequently, Grimmwald Place. Sometimes, Hermione wondered about how thick her skull was at times. Truly, she was brilliant but sometimes her own brain’s capacity for information worked against her, unable to resurface needed knowledge at the correct time.

She gave a huff, a revitalized energy buzzing through her as she ran a hand through her tousled hair before turning back to Shell Cottage, a smile beginning to play on the edges of her lips. The wind was beginning to pick up and blew at her from behind, making her tendrils flail and sway through the air in a cascade of light brown waves. “Bloody hair,” she murmured to herself as she pushed the nuisance out of her face. Her eyes caught two figures on the roof above as her vision was finally restored and instantly, she recognized the two: the female half-Veela Tyler and Vicente, the local vampire so to speak. He was, really, the only one who’d aligned with the Order thus far and she admired him for that, among other things. She knew his true reason for being here didn’t match up to exactly why the Order was created, but Hermione couldn’t pick and choose who came to her, and the group’s aid this time around. He wanted Voldemort out, and that was good enough for her. Plus, his reason was valiant and, in a way, she too wanted to crush the Dark Lord for a few personal reasons. The serpent had killed too many loved ones for Hermione to even count and still threatened to kill more.

Tyler, on the other hand, was someone who had another person to relate to: Fleur, who’d been a companion of the girl ever since she’d joined the Order. Of course, Hermione knew the girl as well, though from afar, since she’d been in the same house as she when at Hogwarts and was glad to have such a determined woman on their side. She was ruthless, to say the least, and it was always good to have strong fighters with a passion to get rid of the evil that was hovering over them like a plague.

Hermione gave a small wave to the two in acknowledgement, though they seemed to be in their own personal bubbles, before moving into the cottage with purpose. Her eyes scanned the bottom floor, which was cluttered with members up ‘til the ceiling, and did not spot who she was aiming for. Onto the next floor.

Soon, she came to the end of the stairs and heard the faint whispers of Bill and Fleur, speaking about the previous meetings and concerns that matched Hermione’s. The flash of red hair from the room across the way sent a pang through Hermione’s heart. It just wasn’t the same, even though the shade matched, it did not replace the redhead that had always annoyed her in previous years and set her on edge emotionally, for reasons she’d come to terms with only two years ago. Ron was gone. She knew he wouldn’t last the Battle of Hogwarts but, still, the image of his possible death after they’d been separated in the Great Hall, sent shudders down her back and a lump began to form in her throat. Swallowing it down forcefully, she moved towards the room, spotting a small baby boy in Fleur’s lap.

She would test out her theory, tonight, and hopefully not die or get Teddy killed due to her determination.

_ _ _

Her eyes pierced into each member’s souls, or lack there of, as she continued to make her way around the long table. There were Death Eaters, and those who craved to join the ranks, lining about the walls of the room, and they too watched as the Dark Lord’s lieutenant ran the course of the meeting. No one seemed to speak, out of fear or sheer idiocy Florence did not know or care to find out. It was better that they didn’t make a sound. There weren’t to be any questions. They wouldn’t speak out when Voldemort was in their presence, and now was barely any different. While Bellatrix had tightened the leash on the fellow members with lunacy, Florence did it with a graceful, passive aggressive nature that shattered others’ will to protest. It almost made the pureblood smile in amusement. It was no wonder she had gained the Dark Lord’s trust. None of these others would suffice to fill in her shoes. They didn’t have the spines to do it.

At that thought, Florence’s eyes went to the host of this gathering, Draco Malfoy, the “chosen one” of their side. He hadn’t done much thus far that the woman could congratulate. Sure, he’d smuggled the Death Eaters into the school upon the night of Dumbledore’s death, but she knew when her cold eyes fell on him, that he wasn’t worthy of the black mark that lay lovingly on his arm. It was one mistake the Dark Lord had made, but Florence wouldn’t dare to let it be known to her Master. She would simply keep an eye on the blonde fool that dared to brag about his place in society.

“Tonight, there will be a heightened surveillance of every street within the Wizarding World. I want,” she stopped for a moment, “the Dark Lord wants all to know, who haven’t learned just yet, who exactly is in control and will be in power forever. There won’t be a single being whose breath isn’t granted by Voldemort. Tonight, we sniff out those who dare to oppose the Dark Lord’s reign. Every single one of you should be out in the streets, glad to sacrifice your sleep and the comfort of your home for his wishes. If you so much as hear a whisper of the hope to rebel, exterminate the whisper’s owner.” Her voice was passionate, liquid gold in consistency, and filled with venom that was lethal upon injection. Her hatred for those who stood against Voldemort was evident in her every move, her eyes flashing with a spark of blue fire. Still, her face stayed composed.

“Now, don’t sit there and stare into the wood. Go, everyone,” she commanded, ending the meeting. Immediately, Death Eaters began to disapparate in order to tend to their posts, wands ready to utter the darkest of curses in order to please the Dark Lord. She, too, would soon make her way to the streets in order to show just how foolish a “rebellion” was. But first, to deal with a certain pureblood.

“Draco, dear, I have a special task for you as commanded by the Dark Lord,” Florence cooed, her proper, elegant manners coming to play the moment she was no longer on the disgusting topic of muggles and the likes. Her contempt was hidden, for the most part, though all the while as she approached the male she couldn’t help the desire to put him out of his misery.

Once all the other Death Eaters had disbanded, she was left with the Malfoy boy. Her eyes ran over him, unable to swallow down the disdain that rose like bile. “The Dark Lord has heard whispers that the Order of the Phoenix, that failure of a thing, is starting to brew up a problem. He’s requested that the two of us look into it, find their location of operations and extinguish it completely.”
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