The Burning Pen

Dark Lady
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 9

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 9 ~ Reparations

Janet Mackery rolled over in her bed and pulled the pillow over her head as she heard knocking. She groaned to herself. Who could it be at this hour? She opened one bleary brown eye and looked at the clock. It was eleven-fifteen in the morning. She'd just made it in from work at nine and it had been a busy night shift at St. Mungos.

The knocking continued.

"All right. All right," the thirty-five-year-old witch said tiredly as if whoever was outside her door could hear her clearly. She slid out of bed, put on her robe and slippers, pocketed her wand from off the nightstand, then walked into the bathroom to splash a bit of water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror and patted down her kinky black sleep hair so as to look more presentable. Her brown skin looked a bit dry. She wasn't moisturizing enough. The heavy knocking continued.

"All right," she said again, padding down the hallway and to the front door. She peered out the little peephole, then jerked her head back.

Who the hell was that? She looked back out the hole at the man who stood on her doorstep holding a small chest. His hair was black, long and lank, and he was as pale as a fish's belly. His nose was hooked, and his cruelly cast mouth was held in a thin unpleasant line. He didn't look at all safe.

"Yes?" she called loudly through the door, unwilling to open it as she took out her wand.

Is this the residence of Miss Janet Mackery?" Snape asked, staring at the peephole.

"What do you want with Janet Mackery?" Janet asked, not wanting to identify herself before knowing what this visit was about.

"I represent Hermione Granger. She is a former patient of St. Mungos who had a bit of an altercation with Miss Mackery. She would like to make reparations. Are you Miss Mackery?" Snape inquired.

Janet frowned slightly, still peering through the peephole.

"What kind of reparations?" the black witch asked.

In answer, Snape opened the chest, which was brimming over with Galleons. Janet's eyes widened and she immediately opened the door, looking at the money and not taking in Snape at all.

"What do I have to do?" she asked him in a hollow voice, the gold of the Galleons reflected in her hungry brown eyes.

"Just forgive her, Miss Mackery. She wasn't in a good state of mind at the time she attacked you. It wasn't malice but desperation that drove Miss Granger to render you unconscious and steal your clothing," Snape said softly. "By paying you restitution, it is Miss Granger's hope that you will drop the charges against her. She would like to return to wizarding society with a clean record."

Janet now looked up at him, the light in her eyes going out.

"And what is your name?" she asked him.

"Severus Snape. I am Miss Granger's envoy," he told her.

Janet looked him over.

"Envoy? She must be very important to have an envoy. I thought you might be her solicitor," the witch said.

"No. I'm not."

Janet looked thoughtful.

"You know, Mr. Snape, I never held any ill-will toward that young lady," Janet said softly. "She had gone through so much and they kept her so medicated. I used to go into her room at night and brush her hair, just so she'd feel some human contact. Some kindness. No one came to see her. Albus Dumbledore did come in the beginning, but seeing her that way was so painful that he just couldn't return. There was a family of redheads, but they stopped coming, too. She was so alone. Every night she'd whisper 'Harry, Ron, Harry, Ron,' over and over. I'd do my rounds and then come sit with her. I'd give her the potions as directed, to keep her calm. She was calm all right. Like a zombie."

Janet blinked, her eyes filling as Snape listened. Obviously, the medi-witch needed to talk.

"They kept her hands and feet bound, and I complained to the healers that the bonds were too tight. The ropes were bruising her wrists and ankles, but they said they had to be that way. One morning, before I got off work and was bringing her breakfast, I noticed that her arms and legs around the ropes were purple from lack of circulation. So I left the tray on the cart and loosened them. I didn't care what the healers said, that was no way to treat another human being. And then, it all happened so quickly. I woke up on the floor in only my bra and knickers and called for help. But I never blamed her, Mr. Snape. She only wanted out and I couldn't blame her, mad or not. I didn't press the charges. The hospital did because I had been injured and in order for my insurance to kick in, someone had to be held responsible. She didn't try to kill me. She just wanted to get away and I let her escape because I didn't do my duty like I should have. I've always felt terrible about that. No one knew what had happened to her. I thought—I thought she might have harmed herself. I'm glad that she's alive and apparently in better health. I do forgive her. I forgave her that very same day. I don't deserve reparation. I put her in danger with my actions. I should have called the healers to deal with her lack of circulation. I just thought they wouldn't have done anything."

Hermione was watching the exchange through a frozen sheet of fire, listening. Her nostrils flared as the medi-witch selflessly took the blame upon herself.

"Fuck her reticence! Make her sign the paper and take the damn money!" she hissed.

Snape started. He heard Hermione's voice clearly and she sounded angry. Apparently, Miss Mackery's demeanor was having a negative effect on the Dark Lady. And that could be dangerous.

"Miss Mackery, your selflessness is admirable, but Miss Granger feels you deserve this money. She also needs you to sign off on the criminal charges against her. If the insurance company wishes to pursue it further, then they can file their own complaint with the courts, which would make it a civil situation. For now, only your forgiveness for the physical assault matters."

Snape reached into his inner pocket and produced a parchment, handing it to the witch. It was a statement saying that she had no ill will toward Hermione Granger and wished to forget about the entire matter.

"You only have to sign this, and the Galleons are yours," he said softly as she looked it over. "Then it will be taken to the Ministry and put on record."

"I'll sign it without accepting the Galleons," Janet said quietly, walking back into the house to get a pen. Snape stood on the doorstep, waiting.

"NO!" Hermione's voice growled in his ear. "She MUST take the money, Severus! If she doesn't, I'll destroy her where she stands. I swear I will!"

Snape blinked several times as Janet returned with the signed paper, offering it to him.

"Miss Mackery," he said in a low, intense voice. "Listen to me, and listen well. If you want to keep breathing, you will take this money immediately."

"What? What are you talking about?" Janet demanded, frowning at him now.

"I cannot give you all the details, but I assure you that if you don't take these Galleons, your life will be worth nothing. Please."

Janet stared up at Snape and saw the worry and fear in his eyes. Her heart started to beat quickly. She instinctually knew this unpleasant looking wizard wasn't lying. Her eyes shifted about to see if someone had a bead on her, then she looked back at Snape.

"All right. But like I said, I don't deserve it," the witch said, taking the chest from Snape, who nearly slumped with relief. He was sure that Janet's death would have been a very nasty, painful one.

"Take it and spend it all on something frivolous, then, Miss Mackery," Snape said, taking the parchment from her and glancing at her signature.

"I suppose I could give it to charity," she said softly.

"WHAT?" Hermione snarled in Snape's mind.

"NO!" Snape shouted at Janet, who jumped, startled.

"No," he said in a softer voice. "You have to use it yourself, or—or something extremely unpleasant and permanent will happen to you. Do you understand me? And don't attempt to clandestinely give the money away after I leave. As I said, you will die, Miss Mackery. It will be found out, and you will die."

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Suffice it to say, Miss Mackery, Hell has a lot to do with it. Now, good day."

Snape turned and Disapparated, leaving the witch standing in the door with wide, frightened eyes. She looked down at the chest of Galleons, then slowly closed it. She looked around again, then stepped back into the house, closing the door behind her.

Hermione was glowering on her throne. Janet had shown such thoughtfulness. Such a good heart towards her attacker after what she had done to her. Janet Mackery was truly a good human being and was genuinely concerned about her. She watched as Janet walked into her bedroom and set the chest down on her dresser. Hermione could feel a sense of appreciation growing in her chest—

"NO!" she snarled, thrusting her hand toward Janet's image. The medi-witch screamed as she was covered in painful welts. Hermione banished the fire, relieved of her feelings of good will.

"That's much better," she breathed.

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Snape brought the signed parchment to the Ministry and personally gave it to the minister himself, his large nose wrinkling at the stench in his office. It smelled as if something had died in there and someone had unsuccessfully attempted to cover the smell with cologne.

"I will have this taken care of immediately, Mr. Snape," Titwilder said. "Be sure to tell your Dark Lady that I did just ask she asked. Her name will be cleared by this afternoon."

"Tell him I want my name cleared publicly. Post it in the Prophet," Hermione hissed to Snape. She was observing him via the ring now. "The evening edition."

"Ah, the Lady would like this decision to be posted in the Prophet this afternoon," Snape informed him.

Titwilder spluttered. He was still on Barnabas' bad side for stopping the presses last night.

"This evening's Prophet? It might be rather late for that," the minister said. "I could probably have it inserted in tomorrow morning's edition—"

Suddenly, Titwilder's entire office burst into flames around him, fierce heat washing over him. Snape didn't seem to notice the fire all around him as he stood looking at the wizard. He did notice, however, the look of terror on the minister's face and the perspiration that suddenly beaded his forehead.

"ALL RIGHT!" he screamed, startling Snape as the flames died down.

"All right. It will be in the Prophet's evening edition," Titwilder said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his forehead.

Snape hadn't been privy to the inferno scene, but he was relatively sure Hermione had something to do with the minister's change of tone.

"Very good, minister. I'm sure she will be pleased," Snape said, departing the office and the stench.

He really needed to open some windows and air the place out.

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Hermione sat on the throne, lazily watching a shirtless Draco scrub the blood off the throne room walls the Muggle way, his strong back flexing. He leaned down and dipped the scrub brush into the bucket, then returned to the wall.

Hermione flicked a finger toward the bucket, which rose into the air and drifted over the unsuspecting wizard's head. Hermione whirled her finger and the bucket tipped, drenching Draco with its contents, leaving him wet and glistening. He spun around angrily, snarling at Hermione, who looked back at him with amusement.

"I like you wet and dirty, Draco," she said softly as he swelled up visibly, wiping the dirty water from his face. But he didn't dare say anything.

"Go get some more water," Hermione hissed at him. She watched as he grabbed the bucket and stalked from the throne room, his wet jeans clinging to his tight bottom. After he exited, she could feel Snape trying to contact her. She summoned the wizard and he appeared in front of her, bowing low.

"So, I'm cleared now," she said to the dark wizard.

"Yes, my Lady," he replied.

"Good work. Now, tonight I will be summoning the Death Eaters for a little show," she told the Potions master.

"A show, my Lady?"

"Yes. Some entertainment that you will all find quite interesting," Hermione informed him, her eyes starting to glow redly.

"It will have chills, thrills and five stars," she continued.

"A quality show, then?"

"Oh yes. But the five stars aren't a rating, Severus, they're going to be people. Five people in the leading roles," Hermione said, slapping her wand in her palm. "Those five will be Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Bellatrix LeStrange, Antonin Dolohov and Walden Macnair."

Snape simply stared at her. Those were the five Death Eaters responsible for Harry and Ron's deaths.

"You won't want to miss this," Hermione added with a sinister smile.

"Believe me."

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A/N: Another chappie. Bad, bad Hermione. But such FUN to write. Lol. Thanks for reading.

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