Uncoffined

All of them were in there somewhere. Uncoffined.

***

Despite the outward appearance of general disorganisation and lack of hierarchy in Voldemort's ranks, the new regime took charge in a frighteningly swift and effective manner.

Key positions were quickly covered by high-ranking Death Eaters; Muggle-born and halfblood laws were put into effect immediately. The refugees were regarded suspiciously, since they had lost their homes fighting against the new government. Or simply not jumping fast enough to accept their new liege.

An area between Diagon and Knockturn Alley had been cleared and enlarged, then declared the re-settlement area for all refugees.

The cramped houses along the windy streets now served as lodging houses, providing one room per family and, if they were lucky, a communal bathroom and kitchen. For the not-so-lucky had to use the public hearths, street water pumps and public outhouses.

The Warren, as it was called now, was little more than a ghetto, a breeding ground for disease, crime and prostitution.

Employment was sparse, and to legally work, Ministry papers were needed. Muggle-borns were not allowed to enter into salaried employment. Halfbloods could obtain the necessary papers, but many struggled to pay the fees – and bribes – in order to receive the precious, life-saving documents.

***

It had been nearly three months; three months of fighting against the constant threat of discovery, starvation and infection.

One day, Ginny's injury-weakened body succumbed to the cold dampness of the walls, the poisonous mildew growing in the corners and the lack of nutrition. Her once petite, but strong frame now jutted bones, dying little by little, day by day.

One day, George did not return from his search for food. They waited a long time. When it was evident that he would not be coming back, Molly grew very quiet. She merely went through the motions of daily life, if one could still call it a life.

One day, she sat with her back against the wall in the corner that was their "dining area".

"I will lie down for a little while."

Molly had shuffled over to the lumpy mattress on the floor that she shared with her husband and crept under the thin blanket. From then on, she only got up when it was absolutely necessary.

Arthur had been out all day, standing in line at the occupational office of the Ministry, hoping to receive one of the day jobs clearing destroyed areas. It was when he came home, worn out and greyer than ever, that Hermione could not take it anymore and fled, oblivious to the frightened shout of her adoptive father.

Roaming the Warren streets at dusk or even after nightfall was dangerous at best.

***

The red lipstick was perfectly painted on her perfectly formed lips, and thin translucent scraps of fabric were strategically draped over the beautiful witch's body.

She had been brought over by the hostess and had immediately straddled him, rubbing her pert breasts against him.

The guest of honour stared at the khol rimmed eyes, the sparkling blusher on her cheekbones and her long, long, red fingernails, raking over his robes.

Like claws.

He looked around. They'd had a horrible week of flushing out members of the resistance that were still hiding in forests or trying to survive the fallout of dark magic in the former wizarding dwellings. Those were the hardest to forget. Insane with the sheer force of darkness, they were hardly recognisable as humans.

His men were taking full advantage of the distractions offered at the revel. Blaise Zabini was draped over a low chaise longue, a girl between his legs while he feasted on the bare breasts of another.

Theodore Nott and Marcus Flint were sharing a pretty blonde witch.

Today he had had to kill a young woman, one about his age. He did not remember her from Hogwarts, but with house rivalry being what it had been, she might well have been one of his classmates. He had found her in the corner of a ruined house, clutching a teacup that was missing half the handle. Upon seeing him, she had snarled like an animal in a trap and leapt at him.

When he closed his eyes he could see hers, those blue eyes that no longer recognised a fellow human being.

She had fallen at his curse. Death relaxed her features, and he could see that she had been pretty. A nice girl in a nice little village, with a nice family that was no more.

Hands worked on his belt, and he looked into the eyes of the dancing girl on her knees before him.

Blue eyes.

Without thinking he backhanded her sharply.

"Who allowed you such liberties, wench?"

The girl was sprawled on the floor, a hand covering her cheek, her eyes startled only for a mere second before she scrambled away into the crowd.

Draco Malfoy stood abruptly and stalked from the room. In the corridor, he waved Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe away from their own girls.

"Greg, Vince, I'll be in my quarters here, over the weekend. Bring me a distraction." He rubbed his face with a weary hand. "Bring me... something different. Something not so shrill and bright. It hurts my soul tonight."

"And no blue eyes," he added as an afterthought.

His friends looked at him without true comprehension, but nodded. If the High Reeve wanted something, the High Reeve got it.

***

So pretty.

She had not seen such pretty colours since... She had to think hard; since before this life.

Red and yellow. Green and purple. Orange.

Colours of the entire spectrum lay in piles in front of the green grocer's store. He knew very well just how precious his merchandise was. Two hired guns, or would that be wands?, stood next to the exuberant crates filled with tasty ingredients for meals none of them had enjoyed since the new reign had begun.

The two burly men directed their attention to a young boy who was inching suspiciously close. Uncrossing their arms, they reached for their wands and proceeded in shooing him away.

Undetected by the two and most of the crowd, a small girl had crept up to the stand from the other side and had started stuffing vegetables and fruit into her pockets.

Hermione stared.

Nobody paid her any heed.

There were only two paces between her and not being hungry, not being sick.

Before she even knew that she had made a decision, a red bell pepper was in her hand. The small girl nodded her head curtly then turned to run. The quick motion drew the attention of the hired help. They took in the running girl and Hermione standing with a bright vegetable in her hand.

She spun around and ran into the opposite direction.

Footsteps behind her.

There were too many people on the streets, and she was not fast enough. She could not get around them quickly; she was dodging left and right and turning corners without seeing where she was going.

And always, the heavy footsteps were behind her.

Turning a corner into a narrow alleyway, salvation stood in an archway, not twenty paces away from her.