All the love for LightofEvolution (Beta Queen) and In Dreams (Alpha Guru)! Are you reading Shared Path by Light? Creature You Know by Dreams? I highly recommend you do :)


It's guilt, honestly, that drives Hermione to the Ministry archives early on a Monday morning. That blasted portrait made her feel like a monster for not fulfilling her promise to research the death of his likeness.

How inanimate is inanimate? She's started pondering. How sure is she that wizarding portraits, enhanced with magic too ancient to understand, can't possibly feel fear or sadness?

It's intriguing to her, actually, this particular bit of magic. Intriguing and a little horrific. She was always fascinated with the portraits of Hogwarts. They had seemed so self-aware, it was almost impossible for her to believe they were little more than brushstrokes on canvas, imbued with a bit of charm magic. Their knowledge and personalities were intuitive and complete; more so than seems possible to Hermione's logical mind.

And what if witches and wizards are wrong? What if this God-like creation of faux life is more detrimental than they know? What if the portraits truly are aware? What happens when they are destroyed?

It had kept her awake at night more than a few times, curious and imaginative twelve year old that she had been. The years passed, however, and she grew to accept their state as nothing but what everyone else believed. No more real than a muggle photograph.

Now, with this version of Draco Malfoy, begging her for help, all those ancient concerns are starting to revisit her at night. What if he truly believes he is real? Could it simply be a botched spell? It makes her shiver, a psychological chill right down to her bones.

Even if it's not actually Draco Malfoy in her room, he's the image of a young man that has shown himself, in brief glimpses, to be frightened and desperate. With a heavy sigh that morning, she had pulled herself from her comfortable bed and dressed for the day at an early hour. Emerging dressed and ready from her en suite, she'd been greeted by the image of Draco sitting on his sofa, arms crossed petulantly.

"It's about time, Granger." Ah, so his usual attitude is back.

"You know, you might not want to be rude. I could just change my mind."

"You wouldn't," he'd sneered back. "You promised. Gryffindors are predictably honorable that way."

He'd been right of course, and Hermione had rolled her eyes before grabbing a jacket and heading to the floo.

Now, it's nearly eleven in the morning, and she's found very little on the Mafloys' last heir. He has been theorized as deceased, of course. That much she anticipated. It is a matter of public record that the Malfoy family was assumed dead after the final battle. No physical body had been found for Draco nor his father, though evidence of physical struggle and curse marks on the earth were discovered surrounding the body of Narcissa Malfoy. She had bled heavily, her body a virtual husk left frail and sheet-white on the ground.

It is odd, Hermione will begrudgingly admit, that Draco's body is unaccounted for. Convenient, in light of his claims. She starts to wonder at that, and considers changing direction in her search.

Hermione breaks for lunch and returns to the stacks, chasing a new investigatory path and expanding her search into more than just Draco Malfoy, but the casualties at large. It is slow going at first, but the deeper she digs, the more instances she discovers of bodies that were, at least initially, listed as unrecovered. At least twenty-six Death Eaters had vanished during the battle: A staggering number on the surface.

However, over the course of the past year, seventeen of those mysteries have been solved. The body of Amycus Carrow, or what was left of it, was discovered in the magically dissected bodies of at least four Acromantulas that had feasted on his flesh. As the Forbidden Forest was cleaned up and searched for, first survivors, then remains, they found Augustus Rookwood had suffered the same fate.

The emaciated body of Jugson was discovered deep in the woods, the remnants of a festering leg wound probably what ultimately did him in. Rosier and Goyle Senior had been killed by Centaurs as they tried to escape the battle, their bodies left as a warning to those that would intrude on the Centaurs' lands.

The list was extensive and gruesome. After an entire afternoon of research, Hermione starts to think that maybe it's best for Draco's likeness to not find out exactly what happened. The choices of fates are colorfully varied, each more vivid than the last.

She finally lands on the only witness document that mentions the Malfoy men. Theodore Nott's father had noticed the Malfoys slinking away from the battle. A blood-thirsty Fenrir Greyback, not far behind, sniffing after the cowards like a lion on a wounded gazelle (his words, verbatim). Nott had further theorized the three met their end at the hands of the werewolf, who was likewise later killed by Aurors a week after the battle.

She closes the last tome with finality, having reached a veritable dead end. Most anyone who would have known the Malfoys is either dead or has already been questioned. To say the family was unpopular at the end would be a vast understatement. Somewhere in the midst of the battle, word had circulated that Narcissa was a traitor to the cause. Death Eaters who were interviewed on their way to Azkaban had no love lost for the three purebloods and seemed to think they had met a deserved end.

Similarly, the Order and other fighters for the Light had little sympathy. Accounts from those on Hermione's side of the battle lines included phrases like "predisposed to Dark Arts" and "cowardly lot of evil tossers". No one mourned them in their passing. Not the Dark. Not the Light.

It's the most tragic thing from the war she's come across in some time.

But what the hell does she say to Draco? He loved his mother; that much was obvious in the one moment he mentioned her. To know that the entirety of the wizarding world brushed aside her loss, not to mention his own death, is something no one, not even an inanimate object, should have to shoulder.

Hermione returns to Harry's new ancestral home that evening feeling grim and uncertain. She finds her friend in the parlour, looking over the work that has been done during the day.

"Looks nice," she says as she enters, eyeing the crown molding that has been refinished and painted a crisp white.

"I thought so," he nods, eyeing it, and then turns to her. "You look exhausted."

Offering a wry smile, she flops onto the sofa by the fire and responds, "Thanks. You're looking particularly not as fresh and handsome as usual, yourself."

He chuckles and takes a seat at the other end. "Sorry," he offers the perfunctory response. "You just look a little worn down, is all."

"I am," she admits. "I spent the day at the Ministry archives."

Harry furrows his brows and turns to face her more fully, offering his obvious attention. "Are you looking for something?"

Hermione sighs and settles in. "You'll think I'm a complete loon. It's Draco. Malfoy… He… It's crazy, Harry, but he doesn't think he's a portrait. I've never seen anything like it."

Her friend nods. "He mentioned something like that to me when they were hanging him. Says he must be cursed or something. Tried to convince me to call in favors with the Unspeakables if I could. As if I have any say with that bunch of lunatics," he finishes with a mutter.

"Right. So, he asked me… and I can't believe I agreed… he asked me to research for him. Find out what happened to him after the battle. Harry, I can't find anything concrete, but the accounts of other missing Death Eaters…" She shakes off the haunted feeling and finishes with a succinct, "I don't think he needs to know what likely happened to him or his mother."

"What will you tell him?"

She shakes her head, a little unsure, but answers, "I'll tell him I will look more. That I didn't find much. Which, in regards to him in particular, is true."

Harry frowns and reaches over to squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry I put you in this position. If I'd known he wouldn't behave like a normal portrait-"

She waves that thought away and interrupts, "It's fine. Really, Harry, it's your house. He's not even that bad so far. Mostly polite…ish. I just feel a bit guilty. You know me, always the one with the answers."

They fall into a comfortable silence, contemplating how true that statement is.

Finally, Hermione rises to her feet and says she is going to retire. Though she'd not appreciated the comment on her appearance, she truly is exhausted. She is not, however, looking forward to speaking with Malfoy's image.

She stops in the kitchen on the way to make a cup of tea and steels herself for the conversation to come.

Opening the door slowly, she peers in and steps across the threshold. The image in Malfoy's portrait stands immediately, looking at her with anticipation.

"Well? Did you find anything?"

Hermione tries for a polite and placating grin. "Not much yet, I'm afraid. You're presumed dead officially, which you knew. Your assets have mostly been seized and partially distributed, including the manor and your Black inheritance, though one Malfoy vault is still locked down. The goblins refuse to release it to the ministry for another year without a… a body." She pauses, realizing how clinical she sounds. Clinical and cold. Clearing her throat, she starts again with a touch more sympathy in her voice. "I, um… I'll try again, though. I mean, I only went to the ministry. I'll see what I can find from other sources. Hogwarts maybe? Department of Mysteries?"

Draco takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "Thanks, Granger. I'd hoped… but I know it was your first try. I just want to say thank you for helping me. You don't have to, and… I appreciate it."

Hermione isn't quite sure what to do with this contrite and humble Malfoy. She softens a little and shakes her head, denying his gratitude and feeling rather undeserving of it. "You don't have to thank me. If there's anything I can do, I will." And she finds that she means it. If he has been cursed in some way to a restless eternity, she will do what she can to bring him the usual peace she has seen in enchanted paintings.

Stepping all the way into the room, she sets her teacup and saucer on the nightstand and grabs a nightdress, still tending toward slightly more conservative bedtime attire. She told Ron it was like being watched by a teapot, but that's not entirely true. He might not be a real person, but it's a reasonable enough facsimile for her to respond to his attention as if he's real.

She returns in her black gown that covers as well as a sundress and a bathrobe hanging off her shoulders. Steadfastly not looking at her unconventional guest, she crawls into bed and picks up the book beside her.

He allows her to read in silence for a while, her tea emptying slowly and simultaneously growing cold. She had just cast a warming charm on the remaining portion when he clears his throat.

"What are you reading?"

She hesitates and does that asinine thing where she actually looks down at it to check. As if she's already forgotten what it was. "Just a muggle fiction book. Nothing that would interest you, I'm sure."

"I would hazard you have no idea what might interest me."

She looks up to find him staring intently. Where she expected to find a sneer, she finds a strange sincerity. She supposes it's a valid point as well. What would she imagine Draco Malfoy read for pleasure? 'How to Kill a Headmaster in Ten Days'? 'Vanishing Cabinets, Murder, and You'?

Marking the book with a bit of scratch parchment she tore out of the Prophet, she sets the book on her lap and explains with a bit more detail. "It's called Blu's Hanging. It's a story of a family in a rather impoverished muggle community and the struggles they face with finances, racism, and their own dynamics. The main character is the daughter and it's her coming of age story in the face of those challenges."

"Sounds depressing."

She's shocked to see what almost looks like a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, and so she snarks back playfully, "I told you it wouldn't interest you."

"I've reason enough to be depressed, thanks ever so."

The banter stops abruptly before it even had a chance to start. There is silence after that until, sometime later, Hermione looks up to find Draco asleep on his sofa, his back toward the room.

Turning down the light by her bedside, Hermione slips under her sheets, trying very hard not to think about what it would be like to live in a state of denial and depression, eternity looming overhead.

She doesn't have the answers, but it's already starting to eat at her conscious, this path of mildly ignoring his plight, and it's only been two days.


Happy Sunday! As we leave the more "set-up" phase of the story, meatier installments are just over the horizon. I expect to be back a couple of times this week with updates.

Huge thanks to all of you! If you left a review, unless you are a guest (or have your private messaging turned of) you have already received my thanks, but it bears repeating. For all you anons (and you too idk111) big thanks to you as well! I also want to extend my gratitude for follows and faves. Every notification is exciting and appreciated! If you would be so kind, I would be so happy to hear from you once again! Chapter 4 will be up in a couple of days!