Secrets and Masks

03. Medusa

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?"