MTLNOVEL Chapter 46: Chapter 46:
"Good evening, Quinzel," he said, eyes on the bag as he swung it to the tiled floor and started removing the herbs and trinkets collected in it. "Romy is sorry he's late. He went to the market to get the ingredients Mrs Zabini needed, and he ran into another elf. He was very nasty and rude. He said that when his Master attended dinner here a few months ago that he didn't like the roast potatoes that Romy made. Can Quinzel believe that? Romy was very cross with him, and wanted to throw this Bezoar at his head for his rudeness. Of course, Romy didn't do that, because that would-" He looked up suddenly, and Hermione couldn't help but smile as a small blush coloured the green-eyed elf's cheeks. "Miss Granger!" he squeaked happily. "Romy is very pleased to see you! Romy didn't want you to think him rude when he didn't bring Miss her dinner this evening. You see, Miss Astoria wanted him to go and get ingredients for her special potions and-"
"Romy," Quinzel cut in, annoyance clear on her small face. "Would you go to the storage building and get Quinzel crushed snake fangs?"
"Hold on a second. Romy?" Hermione asked, stopping the elf before he could escape. "What makes Mrs Zabini's potions so special?"
His green eyes widened considerably but he didn't answer the question. Quinzel had stopped preparing Hermione's drink and was watching him, her pink eyes narrowed to slits and her lips pressed into a thin line. Clearly, Romy had said too much, again.
"Is there a special ingredient?" Hermione pressed on, hoping her insistence would encourage him to slip. "Or is it the potion itself that's special?"
"Well..." Romy's eyes trailed to the floor, and he started to pick at his nails, obviously uncomfortable with the situation he'd found himself in, but that just made Hermione all the more curious.
She knew Romy wasn't supposed to mention Astoria's potions, she could tell from Malfoy's reaction that it wasn't something Hermione wasn't supposed to know about. But why?
Astoria spent an awful lot of time in her potion's lab, so it wasn't exactly a secret that she had a passion and flair for brewing. So why didn't the elves want to answer the question? Before Hermione could press the matter further, Quinzel hopped off her stool and pushed a chilled glass against Hermione's knees. Even through her leggings, its coldness caused her breath to catch.
"No time for questions," Quinzel said sternly, urging Hermione to take the glass of blue liquid before she started to shoo her from the kitchen. "Romy and Quinzel have many tasks to do before sunrise, and Miss Granger is only getting in our way."
Quinzel hastily guided Hermione to the door, and locked it when she was on the other side. She must have cast a silencing charm too, because when Hermione pressed her ear against the door to eavesdrop, she couldn't hear a sound.
Hermione sighed heavily and started walking back to her room. She sipped the potion as she walked, feeling the effects start to take by the time she came to the winding staircase. Her muscles felt much stronger when she reached the top, and by the time she reached the end of the lonely hallway where her bedroom was, she almost had a spring back in her step.
She fussed over the elf's strange behaviour once she was back in her room. She ran over the ingredients she'd seen Romy unpack, and tried to pair them with potions she knew required those particular herbs -
A loud crashing sound suddenly cut through the quiet.
Hermione's eyes snapped to her door whilst the rest of her body stilled. An eerie silence followed, and she counted five of her heartbeats before she heard voices, two voices. One was a mans, deep and gravelly, while the other was high and feminine. She couldn't make out whether the woman's voice was laughing or crying.
Hermione slowly walked towards her bedroom door and pressed her ear to the wood. Although muffled, she was sure the feminine voice was Astoria's, but she couldn't quite place the male voice.
There were several loud bangs and then a smash, which sounded an awful lot like something ceramic shattering.
Hermione gingerly opened her door. It was just a small crack, only wide enough to peer one eye through the gap and investigate. She was right, Astoria was stood in the hallway, about twelve feet away, clutching an almost expired bottle of red wine clumsily in her hand while the other gripped the wall for support.
Nott sat on the floor with a bottle in his hand, leaning against the opposite wall with his legs stretched out in front of him.
Both of them were staring at chunks of a smashed vase on the floor.
Astoria blinked at the mess once, twice, then giggled.
Nott took a swig of the bottle in his hand. "Malfoy will kill you," he muttered. "His mother bought that vase."
Astoria scoffed. "It's fiiiine, the moody bastard has charmed eeeeeverything." Her voice didn't sound right. Her tone was slower, darker than the high-pitched ring she usually spoke in and the words were slurred. "It'll repair itself in a second... just waaatch."
Astoria extended her arm theatrically towards the pile of shards, and that's when Hermione noticed the streak of blood that was seeping from a deep cut on Astoria's bicep, but the blonde didn't seem to be able to feel it.
Astoria's usually impeccable beauty was gone, she looked a shell of her radiant self. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her skin was pale and grey, a striking comparison against the violent stream of crimson that flowed down her arm and into the dip of her elbow. Her red lipstick was smeared down her chin and her mascara was smudged under her eyes and across her cheeks, evidence of dried tears. There were dark, almost black roots at the top of her head, and they looked all the more noticeable against the frizzy, artificial blonde underneath it.