Chapter 25

Look Who's Talking

They waited but nobody came. They waited and waited, examining their telephones and talking to each other in hushed tones, very much the way one talks when present at somebody's deathbed. No one came, no phone rang. It was as if Hermione and her sister had fallen into a hole in the ground, as if the ground itself opened up and swallowed them whole.

And, quite frankly, it was terrible.

Narcissa finally called it the night and marched to her bedroom. She stopped on the threshold and looked inside. A double bed, pastel walls, some pictures in frames hanging in random locations, a tall window covered with long, crimson hangings, a white drawer in the corner and a small bedside table made of beech. It was all cozy and Narcissa would have found it enjoyable, much more than the cold and stony halls of Malfoy Manor, if only she was not that anxious. It kept boiling in the pit of her stomach, mixing with waves of nausea a the tingling sensation of sheer adrenaline, a mixture deadly and draining. She felt her knees weaken and stumbled towards the bed, grateful that no one was there to see her downfall.

She sat down on the mattress and stared at the opposite wall. There was a photo hanging there, a very tall woman with chestnut hair and gray, piercing eyes, was standing beside a lean, muscular man, he kept his arm around her waist and she was smiling to the camera, and suddenly Narcissa wondered whether she was looking at the picture of Hermione's parents. Something clenched painfully in her stomach and it happened, finally: a choked sob broke free and startled hair.

She had been taught never to cry. It was a weakness and not only that, but also something a lady never did. Displaying emotions was one thing, ruining one's reputation another. And no one, not even the fairest of them all, her Mother would repeat that endlessly, looked good while crying. Runny nose, red blotches, puffy eyelids - on and on the list went. A lady who cried was not only a lady who showed her weakness, thus stating she was no better than a commoner, but also ruined her looks, a thing that was deadlier than a killing curse.

And so Narcissa hated herself as tears flooded her face; biting back the sobs that were threatening to escape her lips, she found herself rocking back and forth, like a frightened child. It was dreadful and humiliating, but all she could thing about was how Hermione had held her in that bed; it was the comfort she never had, the moment the woman's arms had encircled her, she felt the safest. It was ridiculous and she knew it, to take comfort in a severely distressed twenty-year-old was absolutely unbecoming, yet there it was.

And then a noise shook her out of her musings. She almost jumped off the bed as she recognized the sound. Someone was knocking at her door. Hastily wiping her face with the back of her sleeve, she cleared her throat, praying to anything that might have been listening, that it would come out without a teary croak.

'Who is this?' it was quite satisfying, maybe not the icy quality she had mastered in her early twenties, but it felt almost natural, nonetheless. Level and maybe just slightly nasal.

'Antonin.' the man behind the door replied in a soft tone, as if - and Narcissa almost froze - he knew somehow what had been happening on the other side. 'May I come in?'

'Is everything quite alright?' she asked, trying to steal as much time as possible. She had to clean her face.

'Yes, quite. Would you like, perhaps, a cup of tea?' he must have recognized what she was doing and she almost felt graceful 'I, myself, am terribly thirsty.'

'Yes, please.' she answered 'Perhaps I could join you for the cup in the living room in few moments?'

'But of course.' she almost heard the smile in his voice and gave a watery one of herself. 'I shall be on my way then. I hope to see you soon.'

And so she washed her face and adjusted her hair and put on a dressing-gown she had found earlier on (it was chocolate brown and long), and put on a pair of slippers and marched into the living room, where Antonin Dolohov was already expecting her, two porcelain cups steaming on the table.

'Where did you find china in this house?' she inquired with a faint smile as he stood up to greet her.

'If look hard enough, they say, you will always find a way. I'm glad you came.' he returned the smile earnestly and she looked at him with wonder.

Of course she had known him long before. The silent, sullen man, who usually sat at Dark Lord's table without saying much, his gaze always restless, traveling from one companion to another. She deemed him rude and ill-mannered, a man who never spoke much and always glared, lacked all the qualities of a gentleman. Yet now there he was, the sullen Antonin full of smiles and sheer courtesy, Antonin who apparently was as polite as any.

'I am glad, too.' she admitted softly, sitting on the sofa.

'How are you?' he asked suddenly leaning in, looming above the table, concern shining in his eyes. 'Please, don't tell me you're alright. Forgive my impudence, Narcissa, but I know you're far from alright.'

She exhaled slowly, unsure whether to lie and back down or tell the truth and betray her upbringing. In the end she chose the middle road.

'I recently lost my husband. Now, my sister and my friend have gone missing. I am worried.'

'You may consider me crude' Antonin finally leaned back, giving her more space 'and maybe I am. Should I offend you in any manner, please know it was not meant nor planned. But I want you to know that you're not alone. And that you mustn't give up.'

'I know.' she retorted irritably, following his suit and also leaning back, distancing herself from the man and his obnoxiousness. He was blunt and, after all, ill-mannered.

'Do you?' he asked softly, visibly unfazed by her response. 'Do you really? All I see is a woman, clinging with all her might to a social relict. The impeccable ice queen who is about to collapse from the sheer pressure of the situation.'

'How do you judge so easily, Antonin?' she was angry enough to raise her voice, even though it was merely a tone louder, she felt as though she had betrayed herself once again. 'How do you look someone in the eye and tell them what they are?'

'I had told our friend once and now I am telling you.' he smiled almost wistfully and sighed 'I have a gift. I can see things about people. Whether they lie or tell the truth, whether they feel something or not. That is how. I know that you are in a deep pain and I also know that you're wasting your energy trying to conceal it.'

'Why not go and tell her that?' it was childish and felt silly the moment it left her lips but she said it nonetheless.

'Because, deep down, she acknowledges it herself. She merely pushes it away throws all her energy and her focus on solving this' he gestured widely around 'mess.'

'Oh -' she said, trying to find some biting remark, when her son suddenly raced into the living room, his hair messy and his eyes alight with something intense.

'She called.' he uttered breathlessly 'They're fine. They're going to Scotland tomorrow.'

'Draco, tell me again. Why are they going to Scotland?' it was morning and they were all seated around the kitchen table and Snape, his face sour, was asking in his most acidic voice.

'I told you' Draco sighed exasperatedly 'she told me they have a lead, godfather.'

'Yes, but did she tell you why so sudden? Did she tell you what happened when they disappeared?'

'No.' the boy shook his head and took a long sip of his coffee 'All she said was that they were betrayed but they got away and are fine and need to rush to Scotland.'

'Is miss Granger always that rash?' the Potions Master scratched his temple, his expression still sour.

'Only when something urgent is happening.' Harry Potter, who had been wiping his glasses during the entire conversation finally put them back on and spoke up.

'Mister Potter' Snape's mouth curled into something much resembling a snarl 'and here I thought rashness and recklessness were solely your domain.'

The silence felt almost strained, until Dolohov broke it, loudly clearing his throat.

'While they're gone we ought to do something ourselves.' he said, looking pointedly at Scabior and Rowle, who were murmuring to each other all the time. Like scolded boys, they turned away, looking positively sheepish.

'And what do you think that is?' William Weasley narrowed his eyes.

'Look for Ollivander? Gather more people? You tell me, Willy.' Dolohov smiled coldly, returning the glare eagerly.

'Boys' she felt compelled to break the potential fight 'please act like adults.'

'Thank you.' Snape, who was sitting beside her, leaned in and whispered with a faint smile on his face. She nodded and sighed. It was quite early but already felt as if centuries had passed since the beginning of this conversation. Without Hermione to lead them, they were acting like children, their differences getting ahead of them. Someone needed to step in. Otherwise the whole group would come apart.

'She's right.' William's wife backed her up, quite surprisingly, and grabbed her husband's hand 'Bill and I could look for more people.'

'Do you have any idea who might that be?' he turned to her, visibly battling his annoyance.

'Krum?' she answered immediately and that caught him off his guard and he had to nod, defeated.

'It's settled, then.' Narcissa once again felt compelled to speak up and felt the eyes of the entire room on her.

'Since when are you in charge, Madam Malfoy?' Scabior, who never liked and always treated her like an obsolete housewife, now grimaced at her. Rowle, on the other hand, looked sheepish, as if embarrassed by his friend's sudden outburst.

'Since she's the most level-headed of us.' Dolohov instantly spoke up, his voice firm, loud and clear.

'Hadn't she nominated you as her second-in-command?' Snape asked incredulously.

'Hence I nominate Narcissa as mine and therefore all of you answer to her.'

With a nervous gulp she realized it was getting out of hand. Dolohov's unwarranted trust in her wasn't something she would acknowledge easily. She was never the one to be a leader, she could be a decent and faithful follower, an obedient wife, a loyal Mother - but that was it. Whatever picture of her Dolohov held in his mind, it was nothing more than an illusion reality would shatter in no time. She needed to tell him that. Not now, of course. She knew better than to publicly question a leader - not because he would become vile and furious, but because it was shake his imagine. And so she swallowed all the words she wanted to say, and held her silence, staring right ahead, above the Young Hermione's head and into the wall.

Surprisingly, it was once again Fleur, William's wife, who immediately supported Dolohov's decision. The French woman nodded - Narcissa caught that movement out of the corner of her eye - and said 'Zis is a good decision.'

'I agree as well.' Young Hermione piped in, her voice much like her older self's. It was bizarre and disturbing, to be in the presence of someone who actually was two people - no matter how strange or illogical or clearly insane that statement might sound. Narcissa swallowed once again, her throat suddenly very dry.

'What do you think?' Dolohov's voice snapped her out of her musings and she forced her attention back at him and saw that he was looking at her, an unspoken question shining in his eyes.

'About?' it was petty and defensive, yet she tried to pretend she was unfazed and disinterested.

'How do we split up?' Snape chimed in, whether out of pity or to move away from troubled waters 'Who does what?'

'I think' Narcissa cleared her throat, straining her voice to remain impassive and cool 'it would be much like her plan...' once again she cleared her throat, uncertain of her next words and nervous beyond anything. One wrong step, one bad decision and she could bring them all at terrible odds. Now she understood the quiet determination of her friend, the weight that laid heavily upon her shoulders. She was deciding people's lives and it was terrible in its finality 'I think' she tried again, begging her eyes not to water due to the nervousness she felt 'it would be wise to send Rowle and Scabior on a patrol, Severus to spy on the Dark Lord...' she broke off, unable to carry on, almost panicking.

'That's clever.' Snape saved the day 'It might not please me to follow Him, but it's smart, nonetheless.'

She locked her eyes with Dolohov, begging him to help her, and he did. A small smile lit his eyes and curled the corners of his lips. Oddly, his approval felt almost warm.

'And what about the rest of us?' Draco, her darling son who had been looking at her the entire time, probably debating with himself whether to jump to her rescue or let her handle the situation on her own, finally spoke up. His was voice firm and reassuring and with a faint she shiver she thought of the men in her life who actually did have her back, much unlike her husband ever had.

'If Quint and you, Draco - and Hermione' she licked her lips and looked at the girl who nodded encouragingly 'tried some form of research... maybe we'd be able to come up with something.'

And that was actually it. All they could really do was hope for some ridiculous research that would bring them closer to finding Ollivander, stopping the EMP agenda and maybe, just maybe, making a small difference. Right now, however, they had nothing. They did managed to thwart Wesker's agenda, there was no virus that could be unleashed on the Magic population, they did manage to spring Bellatrix out - but that was nothing. Charity Burbage was still missing, her role as unclear as before, the Muggle agencies were still working on their Acts and Pacts and whatever these things were called. The research was going on. And the Dark Lord continued attacking Muggles, provoking a retaliation, destroying -

'If we took him out.' she said suddenly, straightening in her chair. All eyes were on her, but she ignored the sensation and once again met Dolohov's eyes.

'I don't know whether it's not too late to stop the Muggles. They already know about us. Maybe they would want to negotiate, maybe we could have an agreement - if He only he wasn't...' she stopped speaking and saw Dolohov's eyes widening abruptly.

'Wait' Harry Potter stood from his chair, his glasses almost askew 'are you seriously considering an assassination?' the incredulity in his voice prominent and laced with disgust.

'Potter, weren't you the one who was supposed to end him, anyway?' Snape stared the boy down and suddenly he blushed and sat back down, sweat beading his forehead.

'It's different' he mumbled and cleared his throat 'It's different' he repeated heatedly 'To kill a man in a fight is one thing. But to plan it all out in cold blood... it's evil!' he found the word he was missing and uttered it with so much conviction that Narcissa almost blushed.

And it struck her, with all tremendous power, how truly good this boy was. A force of righteousness in a rather murky world. And she felt amazed and embarrassed and small and she knew she was looking at an actual hero. Hermione, her Hermione, was a leader and, possibly, a savior, but she carried her own amount of darkness and pain - and would not stop to ponder whether an act was moral or not, only looking for its efficiency factor. She was their champion and their leader, but she was not a hero. The boy, however, was. Pure and innocent, he would always, even in the darkest of times, look for what was right. And she despised and adored him for that.

'What other choice do we have, Harry?' the Young Hermione spoke and Narcissa flinched, realizing she probably was witnessing the birth of the Older Hermione. It was nauseating and amazing to see that all-familiar steely resolve color her words and enter her eyes 'It's not right, of course, but it's effective.'

'There is no greater or lesser good, Hermione!' he exclaimed 'There is only good or bad. You cant' justify doing a bad thing by saying you're doing it in case to achieve something good.'

And of course, he was as right as unrealistic. Now, Narcissa knew what price both Older Hermione's Harry and the woman herself had paid. To taint the heart of a man so pure and to break a girl so strong was despicably evil. And she knew, from Hermione's tale, the one she told her on the rocky cliff somewhere in Scotland, that indeed, the two of them had been broken and remolded into something new.

'Will it solve anything?' oddly enough, it was Draco who backed Harry 'Killing him, I mean?'

'We don't know that.' she admitted, her heart heavy 'But maybe, just maybe, it'd be worth a shot.' her eyes remained glued to the boy and she begged him wordlessly to understand.

'Then I suggest knowing before trying.' Young Hermione said in clear voice 'That's how we can avoid doing unnecessary evil.'

'So do you believe in sparing him?' Rowle looked incredulous 'I thought you hated the man.'

'I might hate him, yes.' Harry Potter, the voice of everything that was good, said calmly 'But I don't want to kill him. It's not the way. Never the way.'

'But I thought we set out to stop him -?' Young Hermione now turned to look at him, bewilderment evident on her face.

'Stop, yes. But kill? We never said that.'

'But I thought -' she broke off and looked at Narcissa, her eyes huge and pleading 'What do we do?'

It felt heavy, to make decisions like those, but she had to, whether she liked it or not - had to until she solved the problem of wrongly elected leadership with Dolohov.

'We contact the Muggles.' she said, battling to keep sheer fear out of her voice. She remembered it all. It felt like going back into that cage she had been broken out of. 'We negotiate.'

'But why?' Scabior whined, looking at her with so much resentment that if eyes could do magic, she would have dropped dead. 'Why not just take 'em down?'

'Negotiating might buy us time.' Dolohov pointed out 'I doubt we'll succeed.' he added apologetically 'But we might learn something of their plans - that's one thing. And secondly, we might locate Ollivander by the time. Or figure out how to handle Him.'

'So, summing it all up' Snape added thoughtfully 'While Fleur and William try to coerce more people into collaboration with us, Scabior and Rowle patrol, I spy on the Dark Lord, Quint, Draco and Hermione research some way to find Ollivander, what does the rest of us do?'

'Antonin and I will find a way to meet with the Muggles and speak to them.' she said swiftly, random thoughts drifting through her head 'Hermione, the older one I mean, and my sister do their thing in Scotland... It's a plan, isn't it?' she looked pleadingly at Dolohov, who nodded.

'What about me?' Harry Potter asked, his ire righteous and true 'Do I stay back? Just because I don't believe in the grey-zone?'

'We need someone to guard the Walker family' she reminded him steadily, praying he would agree and stop causing distress 'That's one thing. And the second: we need someone to have our backs.'

'In other words, I'm obsolete because I didn't agree to your murderous plans?' he remarked but nodded, nonetheless, his expression grave and stern 'We're doing it all wrong.'

'Tell me then' she lost her patience and snapped at the boy 'what would you have us do?'

'I don't know' he admitted, his voice broken and weak 'I truly don't know.'

Soon after the breakfast, Rowle and Scabior departed, Snape soon following them. Fleur and William were sitting in the kitchen, chatting quietly about something. Harry, brooding and visibly hurt, left for Walkers' hideout and Hermione, Draco accompanied Peter Quint upstairs, to the impromptu research center they had established. She was finally alone, sitting in the living room, her head in her hands, a splitting headache almost blinding her. She inhaled deeply, reveling in the silence. Years of living in the Malfoy Manor, its halls desolate and silent, she grew accustomed to her loneliness. Being around people for such a long time was now tiring. Tiring and more tricky, but definitely more enjoyable that the company of Death Eaters she had to suffer when the Dark Lord had hijacked their house and established his headquarters there.

She scratched her head, trying to figure out a way. They needed a contact. Someone they could talk to - and someone they could trust, even a little bit. A Muggle who would be interested in hearing them out. Maybe, maybe a truce could be worked out. One side would cede something, the other could step back - and maybe their world could merge, instead of standing at terrible odds with each other.

Her reverie was once again broken by her son, who marched into the room, a phone pressed tightly against his ear.

' -found her -' he murmured to whoever was on the other side and nodded at her, removing the phone 'Hermione. Wanted to talk to you.' he handed her the phone and smiled 'Just put it to your ear and talk. I'll be in the kitchen.'

She nodded and tentatively raised the device to her ear. Such a gentleman the boy had become. 'Hello?' she said loudly.

'Ouch! Don't yell!' the person on the other side instantly exclaimed, laughter coloring her voice 'Narcissa, don't yell. I can hear you just fine.'

'Sorry.' she said, smiling instantly. It was unmistakeably Hermione, her voice, her laughter and suddenly there was this warmth, pooling in the pit of her stomach, a strangely childlike sensation that everything was going to be alright.

'How are you?' she demanded, realizing she had fallen silent.

'Fine.' Hermione answered smoothly 'We had a rough ride, so to speak, but right now we're in Glasgow and it's really fine. We'll be renting a car, you know what a car is, don't you?'

'Of course.' she rolled her eyes but her smile was still on her face, involuntary and immensely relaxing. 'Where are you going?'

'See, we'll be driving north, like really far north. There is someone I need to talk to, someone who might be able to get into the London facility. How are things home?' she said it all in one breath and Narcissa giggled.

'Dolohov put me in charge.' she said instantly, readying herself to hear Hermione's disbelieving scoff or a harsh instruction to put him on the phone.

'Good.' the response was almost joyful and had Narcissa start with surprise 'I'm more than relieved to hear that.' the woman added and Narcissa closed her eyes in disbelief.

'Really?' it was almost a stutter and she almost cursed out loud, but Hermione simply scoffed, dismissing the question and jumping onto another subject 'So, what are you up to?'

'I' she licked her lips, still nervous, her palms sweating and the phone oddly heavy pressed against her ear 'I send Rowle and Scabior on a patrol, I send Snape to follow Him, William and his wife will soon look for more people to join us...' she allowed her voice to crack and sighed, waiting for the inevitable.

'OK. What else?' the question was simply and Narcissa could hear the city through the phone, people and engines and honks, and for a second she almost felt dizzy, listening to invisible Glasgow. It felt as though an entire reality had been squeezed into the tiny, black, device. Muggles and their technology.

'I want' she said and chewed on her lower lip, unable to carry on.

What if the entire idea was simply treason? What if she had betrayed Hermione's trust and friendship? Those were the people that had hurt the woman in such ways she could not imagine. It was too late though, too late to unspeak what she had said hours earlier.

'Tell me.' Hermione implored softly 'Look' the woman added briskly 'I trust you more than I trust myself, OK? You're smart and level-headed, you won't do anything rash or dumb, it's OK. Tell me.'

'I thought' she felt deeply touched now and felt like crumbling into a ball and weeping her broken, broken heart one 'I thought we could...'

'-You could?' the woman on the other side was immensely patient, her voice still light and laced with laughter 'C'mon, what did you do?'

'-negotiate with the Muggles!' she blurted out and froze, waiting for Hermione to understand the gravity of her treason.

And the silence that came was almost deafening.

Finally, Hermione spoke, her voice small and quavering 'Negotiate...?'

'I'm so sorry -' Narcissa felt the tears pool in her eyes and she blinked to keep them at bay. Now was not the time to cry, now was the time to assess and address the damage.

'Don't be.' the woman on the other side said harshly, something coloring her voice 'You know what?'

'Yes?' she waited for the angry words to fall, so she simply hung her shoulder and closed her eyes.

'I think you're brilliant.'

What?

'What?' she repeated dumbly, not trusting her ears.

'I think' Hermione said 'that you are brilliant, Narcissa Malfoy and I could kiss you right now.'

A/N:
First and foremost: to those of you who fear Hermione is going to pull a Dolly on Narcissa - don't worry. Although there might be some situations between the two ladies, the endgame will be Bellamione and solely Bellamione, so fear not.

Well, as of again and again, thank you all, dearest readers, for your kind words. Thank you to justine, TJK78, xyz, maverick66, inqe, Darkshadow-lord. You guys are lovely and I wish I could thank you face to face. But I can't, there's a limit to what a girl can do.

Random Anons: Thank you to the two of you. The thieving Random Anon: these were really kinds words. The original Random Anon: thank you as well, I will try and update more regularly next time.

inqe: I'm truly sorry for being a lazy ass. I was and still am rather fine, sometimes though, adult life jumps out of the bushes and sends you on multiple flights all across the globe. I don't recommend that nor wish upon anyone.

xyz: I laughed and laughed and laughed. I'm flattered. I don't know what state or country you dwell in, but I don't know if any law recognizes a marriage between a person and a work of fiction. Pity though, there are some things I'd marry myself.

CrucioMe: Not only a flatterer but also a charmer. What am I supposed to do with you, eh? Don't think I'd handle a nuclear war, though. My powers do have a limit, you know? Dunno about that wonderland part, though. It's a pretty (and I'm taking of the *real* Wonderland) warped place, I'm not sure it's all Rabbits and sweet things. Bellamione just has to be a slow burn. Otherwise it's pretty blech, methinks.

kristo13: Thanks, mate. I think Hermione's unhinged but I doubt she'll ever go fully crazy. But to make Bellamione plausible, methinks, her character had to shift from sweetly good to quite dark and rather violent. Besides I do like to experiment and wanted to see how far can I take Hermione's personality without changing her altogether.

.Tragedist: Thank you for those very kind words. I'm happy with what I get, so it's more than alright. Time traveling to the Marauders era seems a little bit boring for me and traveling even before is probably way over too tricky, unless the writer has a clue about daily life in the sixties. Anyway, I'm really grateful for the lovely things you said.