Hp: Hermione and Darkness

Hermione took a deep breath and sprayed as fast as her hands could squeeze. Doxys were everywhere. A particularly large one with shiny beetle-like wings and needle-sharp teeth flew directly towards Hermione's face. Two sprays later, Hermione finally hit her target, and the Doxycide struck the creature right in the face. It froze in midair and fell onto the carpet below. Just before Hermione could pick it up, another smaller Doxy flew past her ear. Hermione spun and started chasing it around the room.

"Fred, what are you doing?" said Mrs Weasley sharply. "Spray that at once and throw it away!"

Hermione looked over to see what Fred was doing but lost track of the runaway Doxy.

"'Mione, watch out!" Ron said, squirting a stream of black Doxycide directly over Hermione's shoulders. "Got 'em," Ron said, stepping over to Hermione and the now-stunned Doxy. Ron looked at her with the grin she loved so much. She grinned back, almost as frozen as the Doxy on the carpet, forgetting all about the rejected kiss.

"Erm, 'scuse me," Ron said, lightly grabbing her hips. Electricity shot from her hips to her stomach. Then, before she knew it, Ron moved her out of the way. The flutter in her stomach immediately stopped as soon as she realised Ron wasn't flirting with her… he was just trying to get the stunned Doxy and put it in his bucket.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she would not let them fall. She felt so foolish yet again, but she couldn't let Ron know. "Sorry," she said as casually as she could and quickly crossed to the other side of the room.

She could feel the ball of panic rising steadily in her stomach. She hated feeling stupid like that. It was the worst feeling in the world. Hermione tried some breathing exercises to get through the initial panic and then channelled all of the anger she felt at herself for being so dumb into the bottle of Doxycide and the war against the creatures.

Three bottles later, Hermione had gone quite a few minutes without thinking about Ron, instead focusing on the task at hand. Only when Mrs Weasley accidentally sat on a bag of rats was Hermione brought back to the present.

"I think we'll tackle those after lunch." Mrs Weasley pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, several tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages Harry could not understand and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of most definitely blood.

The clanging doorbell rang again. Everyone looked at Mrs Weasley.

"Stay here," she said firmly, snatching up the bag of rats from the armchair as Mrs Black's screeches started up again from down below. "I'll bring up some sandwiches."

Mrs Weasley left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. At once, everyone dashed to the window to look down the doorstep. They could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a stack of precariously balanced cauldrons.

"Mundungus," said Hermione. "What's he brought all those cauldrons for?"

"Probably looking for a safe place to keep them," said Harry. "Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?"

"Yeah, you're right!" said Fred as the front door opened; Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. "Blimey, Mum won't like that."

He and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening intently. Mrs Black's screaming had stopped.

"Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley," Fred muttered, frowning with concentration. "Can't hear properly... d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?"

"Might be worth it," said George. "I could sneak upstairs and get a pair-"

But at that precise moment, an explosion of sound from downstairs rendered Extendable Ears entirely unnecessary. All of them could hear precisely what Mrs Weasley was shouting at the top of her voice.

"WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!"

"I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else," said Fred, with a satisfied smile as he opened the door an inch or so to allow Mrs Weasley's voice to permeate the room better. "It makes such a nice change."

"- COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE-"

"The idiots are letting her get into her stride," said George, shaking his head. "You've got to head her off early; otherwise, she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry – and there goes Sirius's mum again."

Mrs Weasley's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall.

George made to shut the door to drown the noise, but Kreacher edged into the room before he could do so. Hermione's heart ached for him. He was basically naked except for a filthy rag tied like a loincloth around his waist. He was ancient, and his skin seemed to be several times too big for him. Hermione also suspected the poor creature was going deaf and maybe even going blind because he never seemed to notice them at first. He would always shuffle around hunchbacked, unaware of anyone in the room. There was also a very good chance he suffered from some sort of dementia because he was constantly muttering incoherence under his breath.

"...smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my mistress's house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do…"

"Hello, Kreacher," said Fred very loudly, closing the door with a snap.

....

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