Chapter Ten
Mary and Her Lamb
Caroling. It was a perfect Muggle way to spend Christmas, just gather up the family and stand outside of strangers houses singing songs in off-tuned voice until either they came out to listen or they turned up their electronic stereos, whichever came first. Sometimes, they'd set a dog after you.
Obviously Draco had fallen victim to television in bars after his parents were murdered. He saw those episodes. All the ones with the merry carolers. To him it was a good way to waste precious use of one's time, but now it seemed perfect, a great way to give Hermione a Christmas, especially one that she would be familiar with. It was dangerous, he realized that, but now she had a wand. Not that he expected her to fight.
The coat closet wasn't filled with coats. No, it was filled with cloaks, all black, all heavy. They were only a tad bit dusty from lack of use. They would get use that day though. The falling snow would wash away the mustiness that was filling his nostrils.
Randomly Draco picked out one and held it behind him. "Keep your hood up."
Hermione did as he asked swinging it over her, flipping her hood over her hair pulled up into a ponytail. "Isn't this too dangerous?"
"I thought you lived to die," he asked a bit more harshly than he intended. It continued to bother him, the idea that she wouldn't be there much longer, that even after she said that he was her "everything" she still expected to commit suicide. She may not use that word, not even in her head he supposed, but that was what it was. Suicide.
"They killed all those Muggles," she said quietly, child-like.
"They did," he contested speaking of the massacre of the nearest town.
It was foolish of him, but he had to be sure, so last night he picked out his black cloak, the one he was covering with himself then, and walked to the town. It was rubble, the buildings blown apart, bricks lying over the street. But there were survivors. France was close enough to Muggle freedom as one could get. Aurors existed underground, and to the best of their ability they protected them. Unfortunately that was the reason they were underground. Too many were murdered, but the town, and many of the people were saved.
He cared little for the townspeople, but he couldn't help but think that maybe a little cheer was what they needed. The survivors couldn't forget there was hope. At the same time, maybe he could do the same for Hermione.
On the way out the door he asked her, "how well can you sing?"
"Dogs don't howl if that's what you mean. Why do you ask?"
He had yet to tell her what they were going to do. Other than mention that they were going out to the town. "We're going caroling. You remember a few Christmas songs, don't you?"
"Jingle Bells."
"The Elves Will Sing."
"Away In A Manger," she said meaningfully.
He chuckled understandingly. "Oh, okay, Muggle, right. Have Yourself A Merry Christmas."
"Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree."
"Silent Night."
"Joy to the World."
"Mary Had A Little Lamb."
She stopped short up the hill cocking her head to the side. "Mary had a little lamb," she questioned skeptically verging on laughing.
"That's not a Muggle Christmas song?"
"It's Muggle, but not for Christmas."
"Oops," he shrugged. "I thought lamb was a pet name for her son."
"Different Mary," she laughed, holding a stitch in her chest as he took her elbow helping her along the steep hill. "The Mary you're referring to was a little girl who wanted to take her lamb to school."
"Sounds stupid."
She was quiet a moment, stopping at the top of the hill for her breath. It slipped his mind how weak she remained. "You're right, it is a stupid song."
He watched carefully as her cheeks burned red. Not from embarrassment, and not from the wind blowing their clothes against them framing their thin figures. It was from the assertion of energy she put forth. It might have been good for her, he didn't know, he wasn't a Healer, but he did wish that just in case he had carried her. Not like she would let him, if nothing changed about her it was that she was just as stubborn.
Her eyes glazed over seeing something past his shoulder. He turned to see the blue-green ocean, the breaking waves that crashed over each other were louder now that he listened. The gray clouds were low almost touching them.
"It's beautiful," she commented. "Where are we?"
It occurred to him that he never told her. "Le Havre, France."
"England?"
"Taken over," he answered shortly.
Her breath was ragged as she inhaled, as though she was choking up. "They're all... Australia? What about there?"
He looked curiously at her, his brows knitted above his eyes. Australia? "Same as France. Why do you ask?"
"My parents are there."
"I'm sure they're safe, you can go back to them -"
"No," she shook her head violently, her hood nearly slipping off. "It's better that they don't know. You see... I altered their memories. They don't know about the magical world, and they don't know they have a daughter. They don't know who they are. I tried to pick out the happiest lives for them."
He saw then. Just like Weasley's last act was to "save" her, her last act was to save her parents.
A single tear trailed down. Without a second thought he pressed his forefinger to her cheek catching it on his tip. "There's no need to be sad, lioness. I'm sure they're happy."
"But are they safe?"
He couldn't answer that, because he couldn't lie. Not then. Not about that. He didn't know. He knew of one way to find out, but that would mean putting his best mate in danger again. He wouldn't do it, Theo was doing enough for them.
"Come on, lets go caroling. Keep your hood up."
***
The winter wind bit her face numbing. She wiggled her fingers inside of her coat keeping the blood flowing as they walked along towards the town.
She couldn't believe that she was going caroling with Draco. It seemed like it was out of an alternate universe, but there she was, next to him, trudging along in the building snow.
She hated to admit it, she never would, but the distant village coming closer and closer to them was... Beautiful. It was rubble, stones, and bricks littering the damaged cobblestone street, but the sparkling snow left a spell on it, it shining in the low sunlight.
Then there were the Muggles in torn clothing huddling together outside to keep the warmth. She felt bad for them, she wanted to help them, but they were there for cheer, only she had the feeling the cheer was supposed to be for her, not for the victims.
She directed her gaze away as they stopped on the outskirts.
"Mary Had A Little Lamb," he asked out of the corner of his mouth.
She smiled up at the man beside her, his face hidden under his hood, but she could tell he was smirking. "Silent Night," she offered.
"Sure."
And so they sung. Low and soft at first, but then louder catching the attention of the stragglers around them who stopped and listen with solemn appearances and a hint of appreciation.
She would have never expected Draco to sing so well. His low deep voice was not the bass she thought it would be, in fact it was a tone above that, lovely and smooth. She felt as though she sounded like a cat being thrown around in a bag, but she followed along.
Smiles began as hints across the faces of their audience until they broke into full-fledge grins. Some were mouthing along, others singing in French recognizing their tunes.
She smiled wider too. It felt good, bringing happiness to people that needed it. She had the closest thing to it beside her. This was right. Another act of goodness before she went to the Death Eaters to be killed. How easy that thought came should have been scary, but it still sent a comfort through her.
Twenty-seven days, she told herself.
Then the world exploded. Dark figures approached behind the oblivious Muggles, and green light flashed blinding her, bringing her back. Back to that night.
Fred, Bill, Charlie, George, Molly, Lupin, and Tonks. Blood splattered them, speckles on their snow white faces. She yelled at Ron to get out of her way, but he didn't answer, he only kept her in the corner, behind him as he fought.
Ron shoved Hermione against the wall, his face frantic, and dotted red. He leaned into her covering her protectively. "Listen, love, listen to me closely."
She tasted salt and copper. She barely recognized that she was crying. That she was actually bawling, the tears mixing with blood. She nodded focusing every fiber of her being on what her best friend was saying, ignoring what was replaying in her mind. She had to focus, for Ron.
"You don't have a name. You have no history. You're unnamed."
She didn't understand what he was telling her. She went to ask but past his arm she saw Ginny go down. She gave a strangled cry and tried to go to her. Ron held her back his face averted from the stabbing of his baby sister.
"NO!"
Harry was momentarily distracted. His visage a mix of horror, anger, and breaking sadness as he ran to stop his girlfriend's attack. And then in a flash of green, he fell too, right beside her, their hands together as though they were holding one another.
"HARRY!"
Ron was shaking. In a split second he turned to her. He raised his wand.
"Ron, no, don't!"
"Hermione! HERMIONE!"
Her eyes focused on Draco's frantic ones. His arm was coiled around her waist towing her away from the falling Muggles that thankfully her curtain of hair shielded her from. His wand was pointed in front of them as they ducked behind a smoking building.
The ear-splitting screaming could still be heard as they mutilated the innocent people just feet from them. It was significant. Different from every other screaming. It was tragic in its truest form.
She urged herself not to look. She had plenty of nightmares to last her a lifetime. She didn't need more.
"We're apparating," he informed her quickly, and they did, the swirling of white and red darkening until they were in their lounge.
Blood. More blood shed. People as innocent as Teddy, as lively as Fred and George, as funny as them and Ron, as brave as Harry, and as kind as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. People that were others brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. Friends.
She collapsed against Draco.