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The Derp Queen
It was utterly strange to be called “Miss Granger” by anyone outside of professors from Hogwarts, who were never going to address her that way now, and Hermione couldn’t help but smile in amusement. “Hermione, please,” she corrected kindly. The young witch knew that Vicente was simply trying to be polite but her vision of the Order was of members being comfortable around one another. Of course, having a vampire with them made this concept a little hard to install in some other people within the Order, though not Hermione herself. She had been an advocate for all kinds of mythical creatures, as one that was constantly talked down to in the eyes of pureblood elitists. He hadn’t done anything thus far to cause her to quiver in fear or disgust, and probably wouldn’t while he was on this mission. Hermione, however, still kept in mind the small child she held inside the sling. His warm body reminded her that she was responsible for two lives tonight, and if Vicente posed a threat in any way, she’d have to take action against the member.

“Vicente, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening but I need your assistance with a small mission I’m going on.” For a split moment, the woman went silent as she mustered up the strength to push down the lump that was slowly forming in her throat. What memories would be stirred on this errand? “Grimmauld Place was in Harry’s name previous to his death and since Teddy,” her arm instinctively tightened about the sling about her, securing the baby further, “is his godchild, I need to find out if it recognizes him as the inherited owner. Its location is both brilliant for the Order and dangerous to get into. That’s why I need someone with good senses to come with me to the residence, since having an extra pair of heightened eyes and ears will help finish this faster.” There was the silent second reason of having someone else to take the child if anything were to happen hovering between the two conversing beings.

“I’m going on broom to avoid any alarms. It’ll take quite a while longer but it’s the safest approach,” Hermione continued as she pulled out her broomstick. “If you’re up for it, simply follow me. Make sure to stay above the overhang of clouds once we approach London.” With that, she settled onto her broom, making sure to secure the baby even further. He wasn’t going to be falling for anything.

She wasn’t a fan of the technicalities behind broom flying, thanks to that early fiasco in the broom class at Hogwarts as a child. Still, the essence of being in the air, above the rest of the world, filled her with a magical feeling of freedom; that was hard to come by in these times. So, once she was in the air and done with the more technical aspect of the broom, Hermione felt a smile tingle on the edges of her lips and a grin illuminated her face as she maneuvered about the stars as if she were one of them for the time being. For a split moment, the thought of simply staying up there came into play. But, alas, Hermione had a heavy feeling of responsibility that always weighed her body down back to the solid ground and reality. She had a purpose in life, to defeat Voldemort, in order to bring peace of mind to herself and everyone else. She couldn’t simply disappear as many had already, out of cowardice.

Most of the time flying was spent in silence, hers sourced through awe for her surroundings that kept her from disturbing the tranquil nature of this night, which shrouded the much more impenetrable darkness of the Death Eaters for a small moment in time and allowed her to believe that all was right with the world. But, it wasn’t. This was made adamantly clear once they approached London, whose clouds were darker than the cloak of the Grim Reaper and filled her being with foreboding despair. This was Voldemort’s doing.

She glanced over to spot Vicente and gave a small nod of acknowledgement before rising above the approaching mass of clouds in order to keep discreet. The baby still lay, warm and quiet in the sling- oblivious to the cruelty that hung just beneath him. She knew this landscape like the back of her hand, after flying about a few times for Harry and with Ron, the memory stabbing her like an icicle through the heart. But, as always, she shoved it aside as her senses told her that she was nearing the targeted location. Again, she signaled Vicente to prepare to touch down on ground, pointing to the park cluttered with large trees and bushes that sat across from Grimmuald place- a sight that peeped through a small hole in the clouds below them.

She murmured the disillusionment charm, her wand pressed against the base of her broom as she gripped it tightly with one hand. Instantly, the object vanished from plain view, for now. With that done, she put the wand to herself and the cold, oozing sensation that came with the charm covered her like a blanket, along with Teddy who stirred at the strange feeling. She was made invisible and could only hope that a spell hadn’t been cast about this area to break any enchantment cast. She’d had her fill of those tricks when she went to Gringotts. Thankfully, once she descended upon the neighborhood, the cool feeling of invisibility clung to her as she touched ground and got off the equally invisible broom within the welcomed trees and bushes that hid her once she waved off the disillusionment charm.

Scanning the area from the dark spot in the woods, Hermione noted that no one was out on the streets. That was, until she heard a crack sound someone apparating into the facility. Her breath caught, realizing that there was no alarm sounding- it was a Death Eater. Quickly, she ducked even further into the hidden spot, behind a bush as she cursed within her mind. Her mind went to the invisibility cloak within her purse, and with that she pulled it out, smoothing its surface out. Once she knew Vicente had touched down, she would figure out where to go from here. She knew Death Eaters would be about, but had hoped against it.

* * *

Dark eyes fell on her face, calculating her every expression as his stayed mute. He was a royal serpent, draped in a dark black ensemble that moved about him like smoke and reflected his overall being: a dark lord- a god manifested. He moved languidly about the divine hall, the sleek marble flooring picking up nothing from his steps while, if Florence were to make a step, her shoes would echo. He was a ghost, floating to and fro. If she were to reach out and try and touch the Dark Lord, would her hands go through? She didn’t dare risk the move.

“You’ve served me well, Florence. Sweet, strong Florence. Do you know why I picked you to be my lieutenant?” His voice wrapped around her, coiling like a snake- like Nagini who was nestled only feet away from his Masters’ body. Florence’s eyes were glued to Voldemort, admiration, pride, and power emanating from her being but dulling in comparison to the man, the being before her. “I chose you because of your diligence, loyalty, and strength. I give you my trust to do all that is necessary in my leave, as I will be on my own personal mission for the time being.”

She did not question what this was. That, too, was why she was chosen- though he would not speak this. It did not need voicing.

“Squash this bug and show the world what happens to traitors,” he hissed. One moment, he was composed but the next he was maddened by something inside of him. It had been this way since Potter’s death. Though she was leuitenant, taking Bellatrix’s place, she knew not of the Horcruxes’ existence. Only Bellatrix had been given that insight, but as far as Florence was concerned: she knew all.

“Of course, my lord.” She couldn’t help but smile in pleasure.

Nights in London could be chilly and tonight was no different as Florence walked about the street, her eyes scanning the surrounding homes. She had been out there for some time now and Malfoy had yet to make an appearance. How astonishing! Really, she expected nothing more of the juvenile boy. Why on earth had the Dark Lord assigned him to her? A mentor, he’d said. He needed a mentor now that his failure of a family had fallen, taking Bellatrix with them. The Dark Lord had ordered it, and so Florence would obey but it truly took quite a few bites to the tongue to keep back the complaints that bubbled to the surface.

The darkness had fallen completely over the city, clouds hovering over and threatening to send rain pelting down but never did. The street was empty, a strange hue coming off of the streetlights lining the neighborhood that annoyed Florence. With a whip of her wand, the lights were extinguished, sucked into the tip of her wand and tucked away. The dark was always better and it made it much more fun to seek out any prey that would be coming about.

She had summoned another to take Draco’s place for the time being, since he’d decided to take a siesta from the task the Dark Lord had bestowed upon him. Greyback walked the opposite perimeter about 12 Grimmauld Place, surveying the park and surrounding houses with senses that made Florence cringe. He wasn’t one she liked. He was a beast, but he would do for the nighttime. He had been assigned to a few streets only a mile or so away from here, so it had been the most convenient, and he was the vilest of all Death Eaters. If she felt the need to do some damage to anyone who wasn’t with Voldemort, he was the one to go to. As long as he was away from her, it wasn’t a problem.

Said creature was leaning against a now useless lamppost, awaiting anything new to look at or young to eat. 12 Grimmwauld Place continued to be hidden from view, a pesky trick of the magical residence that made watching it even more boring for the werewolf. His eyes racked 11 Grimmwauld Place, whose residents were keeping away from the window out of an instilled fear that came with the ominous feeling of doom. Humans were beginning to understand that something was going terribly wrong in the world. People were dying and, even as human police tried to keep incidences secret from the public out of fear from what would happen when magic was exposed, residents of London and the surrounding land knew darkness was suffocating their land.

When a crackle announced someone’s appearance, the dull werewolf’s nose sniffed in the general direction of the intrusion. Obviously, it was a Death Eater since alarms weren’t sounding, but that didn’t make Greyback any less aroused. He loved messing with anyone with a pulse- whether it be Death Eater or other. The only reason he hadn’t messed with Florence was because of her bite.

“Look who rolled out of bed,” his rough voice spat, his breath stinking of decay and flesh. He eyed Draco Malfoy with amusement and disgust. It was because of him that Greyback wasn’t eating right now, a young little child limp in his arms. Instead, he was here babysitting an invisible house.
Edited by Wicked, August 8, 2011, 4:38 am.
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