Touchstone || Dramione

Chapter II: Slave

Anam Cara is a slender building located along the more questionable backstreets of Muggle London. It seems to dip precariously under the weight of the neighboring structures, the sign reading the club's name in blinking violet letters. The entrance to the club leads down beneath the street, a neon red string of lights bordering the stair railing.

Hermione, Nott, and Luna are already in the bowels of the building, standing at the door of Jaeger's office. McNair is off discussing the current attacks on slaving shipments with the traders, McNair himself in the trade. Parkinson leans casually on the mahogany working desk at the far back of the room, her painted eyes as sharp as a feline's. Hermione catches her stare. Parkinson's hand skirts up to her neck and her thumb makes a slicing motion across her throat.

Just like in Hogwarts, only this time, the game between her and Parkinson is much more real. Hermione has already made an attempt once on Parkinson's life in retaliation for her antics. It wouldn't surprise Hermione at all if Parkinson attempts to kill her on basic principle, regardless of her use to Riddle.

"You're late." Jaeger drawls, his accent thick.

"Fashionably." Nott smirks. "You going to let us in?"

Jaeger scowls at Hermione. "Wer ist diese Bitch?"

She stiffens at the crude question, but doesn't speak. It's better that this ends smoothly, anyway, and not with the man's face covered in boils... or worse.

Nott shrugs. "Her blood taints he way."

Jaeger halts for a moment, his eyes wary as he looks at her again. With another shrug of Nott's shoulders, Jaeger opens the door fully and allows them through. Luna remains close between Nott and Hermione, and Jaeger takes another moment to study her, eyebrows raising. The door shuts with a click and Hermione counts each heartbeat, her hand covertly slipping under her jacket for her wand, which Nott gave her on the train.

The room is bright compared to the hallway, golden overhead lamps geometrically positioned to create assorted shapes on the ceiling. The desk Parkinson leans on dominates the back of the room and a set of plush evergreen couches are situated near a Floo fireplace, not that Jaeger will ever use it.

"Parkinson and McNair were here for trader business. Why are you here?" Jaeger says impatiently.

Nott snickers. "Why would you think I'd visit this dump?"

Jaeger's face hardens and Parkinson grins behind him in amusement. "I'm quite busy maintaining the Dark Lord's financial leverage. I don't have time for your bullshit, wizard. What is it?"

Nott hikes an eyebrow at him. "I need a team assembled. The House of Songs has been found."

Jaeger's eyes widen. "You're sure?"

Parkinson herself is surprised, coral lips falling open.

Nott doesn't bother answering him and continues. "I'm going to need the team by next week. Make sure to pick the best from your stock. You'll be accompanying. We've got the Order crawling all over our usual communication networks, despite their recent losses. They are desperate. We don't need any further incidents. Keep this private."

Jaeger glares accusingly at Hermione and she glares back. He eventually looks away with a huff. "This Mudblood has been loyal to the Order. I don't give a shit if she is the one who has to find the box. We can't trust her! The Dark Lord knows this! You"—

"The spell is very specific, Jaeger. The journey, the entire journey, must be made by the one who enacted the spell." Nott's voice lowers to a smoky purr. "Are you questioning the Dark Lord?"