From debt trap to death trap…

61. Now Cracks A Noble Heart

It was a painting of a beautiful black rose, petals like velveteen gloss, set against a dark sepia backdrop…

'I didn't know you were so talented, Fleur!' Hermione enthused.

'Oh, it wasn't me…' Fleur turned her head towards the open door and smiled at her sister who was sitting on a garden bench overlooking the sea.

'Does she know we have to destroy it once Salvedra's trapped inside?'

'She's happy to see it burn – or whatever it is we do.'

'…I've been thinking about that!' Bill said, ambling in from the garden to join them in the kitchen. He brought with him the smell of freshly-cut grass and the sound of children's high-pitched squeals of excitement as they played on the lawn with Tuyen and Arlene.

'We'll seal the painting in the old tin mine, but I'm also working on a spell – a super-ramped-up Reducto.'

Hermione pondered this. 'Maybe we should think of this painting like a horcrux – and treat it as such? We're can't get hold of a basilisk fang at short notice so maybe we should consider fiendfyre?'

Bill recoiled. 'But that'd destroy the old mine!'

'Does it matter?' Hermione asked archly.

'The mine would contain the fire, actually,' Fleur said thoughtfully. 'I think that'd work.'

'Okay… I'll get everything in place and the moment the operation kicks off, we'll be ready,' Bill decided.

'I'm sick of waiting,' Hermione grumbled. 'We're regularly sweeping the pictures… taking shifts… And Padma's on the look-out. As soon as she spots Salvedra at El Sol y Tershe'll alert us by lighting a candle in the window of Malfoy Manor… the painted version... But it feels to me like Salvedra's gone to ground!'

'We need to be patient,' Bill said sagely.

'Says YOU of all people!' laughed his wife.

'Is – Is it quieter here today than usual?' Hermione asked. She could barely remember the last time she'd had a civil conversation at Shell Cottage without umpteen people interrupting.

'Now Ephraim's in prison many of our guests are moving on…' Fleur said bending down to pull a large sponge cake from the oven. The room was instantly alive with the delicious smell of fresh bakery. Finally! A smell that didn't trigger instant nausea, Hermione thought, salivating… Baby must have a sweet tooth.

'Agatha's gone home,' Fleur continued, 'but we'll still see her as Tansy's staying and they're continuing Sub Rosa.'

This pleased Hermione… Agatha was fast becoming a fearless investigative journalist – a far cry from her tittle-tattling days at the Daily Prophet.

'Neville and Hannah are staying with Ron for a bit,' Fleur said, moving the cake onto a plate and covering it with a cloth.

'It'll be good for Ron to have company,' Hermione mused.

'And this morning Gwen and Oleg moved to her house in Borehamwood,' Bill said, '… though Alfred's staying with us a bit longer. Him and Louis are inseparable.'

'But what about Aunt Rita? Oleg won't know what's hit him!'

'She's gone on a cruise with her sister,' Fleur said.

'Doesn't she care that her husband could die any day!?' Hermione cried, bursting with indignation.

'I think that's partly why Gwen's going home, actually,' Bill said softly.

'And why you're keeping Alfred…'

Bill nodded curtly. 'He's better-off here.'

Hermione's eyes were drawn to Gabrielle looking out to sea. She was wearing a trimmed straw bonnet with a frivolous pink ribbon that flapped in the breeze.

Hermione brought her a cup of tea and sat down to watch the grey-blue waves parading in an endless dance between the two headlands that anchored either side of the bay.

Gabby smiled appreciatively. Her rosy cheeks were pink and raw-looking. In her straw bonnet and with warm sunlight dappling her face she looked like a bonny maid in an Impressionist painting.

Hermione noted the jagged edges of blonde hair peeking out from the bottom of her bonnet. Fleur had mentioned how Gabby had suddenly decided to cut her abundant hair short… her beautiful thick blonde tresses – all gone.

'Your painting's beautiful,' Hermione said. 'Thank you.'

'I hope it helps.'

'It'll be ruined, you know… Fiendfyre.'

Gabby gave her a curious smile. 'That's okay… Most beautiful things are…'

The light shifted in her clear blue eyes and she seemed to be looking beyond Hermione to the far cliff-tops.

'I'm having a baby.' Hermione spoke the words before she could stop herself…

Gabby's gaze moved to Hermione's face. She blinked rapidly… 'That's wonderful, Hermione.' A film of tears sprung into her eyes. 'Truly.' She smiled and dimples dented her cheeks. 'Briek was fond of Ron, but he thought you and Draco were better-suited.' She reached out and clasped Hermione's hand. 'And now we've even more to fight for, don't we?'

'Yes.'

'And it'll be nice for Magda to have a sibling closer to her own age.'

'Hugo's already very good with her…'

'Yes. He has a big heart…' Gabby smiled fondly. 'And in time the older children will love her too – and their new brothers and sisters, because – and forgive me if I can't find the right words here, Hermione – I feel there's a fecundity, a sort of ripeness between you and Draco… And you've changed too. You were desiccated… dry like – like dusty parchment and quick to flame. But now there's a sort of... humidité luxuriante…comme une femme de la terre'

'You mean I shag a lot!'

Gabrielle laughed and her cheeks glowed. 'Pour la bonne santé!'

'I've never seen myself as someone who'd have a big family,' Hermione admitted. 'I'm an only child – like Draco – but I fantasised about having a brother or sister. I even invented imaginary ones in my head, although I made so many rules up for how they should be if I'd ever had one they'd probably have despised me!'

'Well, you've made your own family. Friends and people you care for…' Gabrielle eyed her thoughtfully. 'Maybe when you married Ron – as much as you loved him for the man he was – you also wished to be part of something bigger than yourself? His family… you'll always have them, but perhaps it's time to move beyond those limits and create your own, without others' expectations.'

'You'll always be family to me, too, Gabby.'

Gabrielle smiled. 'And you to me, Hermione. You and ALL your children.'

Hermione's attention was drawn to the children on the lawn. They were sitting in a circle singing a song with Arlene and Tuyen – it wasn't in English, more a mixture of melodic sounds and laughter.

Little Hakim was poking Vithu with an insistent finger, demanding attention - very much looking like the younger brother! Vithu swotted him away, a surly look on his face, but it wasn't unkind; more born of the familiar … these strays and runaways were forming their own kind of family.

Where would they all go? They couldn't live here forever…

'Harry's here,' Gabby said, twisting around to wave. But then her attention returned to the sea, though she seemed less melancholic than before.

'Did you find anyone in the paintings?' Hermione asked eagerly, skipping towards him.

He shook his head. 'Nothing.' He'd been 'touring' with Draco. 'Draco's at home. The new Minister for Magic's come to see him.' He raised his eyebrows.

'Julius Merriman? Did he say why?'

'No… I left them to it and came to get you… We were actually heading to The Burrow. Arthur needs help rebuilding his chicken coop. It blew over in the storm.'

'Haven't we got other things to be thinking about?'

'Small chinks of normality, Hermione… it's not such a bad thing,' Harry smiled. 'And Draco's going to take another stab at getting Katya to talk...' Any buoyancy in his tone ebbed away, like a punctured balloon.

'He's trying his hardest,' Hermione said defensively. 'But she's incapable - or unwilling.'

'She's just WEIRD,' Harry said with dark lugubrious relish. 'Not a single fucking word to anyone!'

'Maybe I should try?' Hermione thought out loud.

'Really?'

'She needs to know we don't want to hurt her.'

'But you've already hurt her. Your very existence hurts her. You're forgetting Sylvestra said she'd told Katya everything! And Draco's told her, too – he didn't want any misunderstandings.'

'Even more reason for me to try…'

'Oh… I wouldn't bother,' Harry sniffed. 'She's just rude.'

His belligerence surprised her. 'No. She's not well. She lost two years of her life!'

'I realise that, but – Hell. I'm thinking of you, Hermione, not her. I don't give a stuff about Katya Malfoy's feelings if I'm being honest.. And she looks at Draco like she's trying to pull his brain out with her eyes. Gives me the creeps…' He sighed. 'And poor Gunter… He's desperate to connect with his new sister but gets nowhere. She just stares like a lifeless golem. Except…' He paused. 'I don't know… there's something going on in there and I don't feel good about it.'

Hermione repressed a shudder. Katya scared her too… but she was trying not to think about it and focus instead on being KIND. As the woman who was sleeping with her husband and bearing his child, it was the least she could do.

'You can't rescue this one, Hermione,' Harry said ardently. 'I think you should stay away. Particularly… particularly now.'

'What do you mean NOW?' she asked suspiciously. And then - 'Oh… Draco. He's told you.'

'THIRTY SECONDS was all it took before he spilled the beans,' Harry grinned.

'Oh dear, is he telling everyone?'

Harry shook his head. 'No… he just wanted meto know, seeing as we work together so closely… and because the man's almost bursting and had to tell someone in case he exploded.'

Hermione covered her face with her hands, hiding the fact she was both smiling and strangely tearful. Bloody hormones, she thought to herself.

Harry gently pulled her around the back of Shell Cottage so they were facing out to sea and only Gabby – who was looking the other way – could see them.

'I'm going to tell you what I told Draco,' Harry said weaving his arms around her waist and pulling her close. 'It wasn't the most tactful I've ever been but the guy took it well – in fact it wasn't one of our MANLIEST moments... Tears were shed.'

'Oh god, Harry! What did you do?'

'I said that if anything happens to him but I – I survive, I'll look after you and his children like you're my own… His children would be provided for and loved.'

Hermione wasn't sure what to say. Harry's face shone with sincerity and emotion.

'So your prognosis for all of us getting through this unscathed isn't great?' she laughed, though it felt like she was choking back a sob at the same time.

'I meant it, though… Draco worries more than he lets on. He's still got a bit of that boyish bravado about him.' To her surprise, he smiled fondly. 'But he's alone, Hermione. Apart from us. He's all alone… which is why I also promised I'd do everything in my power to bring his mother back and make sure she was looked after properly.'

Hermione was speechless. A swirl of unexpected emotion washed through her.

Yes, Draco had no one left. No one he could trust… The only child.

But unlike her, he hadn't stayed close to anyone from his past.

'I want us all to survive and be happy,' she said, with a tearful smile.

Harry leant forwards and kissed her forehead. 'Me, too.'

XXX

The Minister was sitting on the sofa in the living-room at Folkvangr when they arrived. Cordial greetings were exchanged but Hermione noticed that Draco looked very glum indeed.

Harry quietly seethed. His repeated requests to have Ephraim move to Paris had – so far - fallen on deaf ears.

Hermione sat next to Draco, facing Julius. Draco was thumbing through a fat wad of parchments, a brooding, resentful look on his face.

'The Minister's brought me these bills – what I owe for invoking Feinsnapp and getting released by Vendôme.'

Harry leant forward in his seat. 'Why haven't I been told about this? Draco was in MY custody!' he demanded.

'Feinsnapp is strictly Ministry-to-Ministry; nothing to do with Auror HQ,' Julius said crisply. 'In any case, these charges relate to the particular agreement struck between Mr Malfoy and the British Ministry.'

'But I thought that was all settled?' Hermione said to Draco. 'Didn't you give the Ministry shares and a piece of Malfoy Manor?'

'Thing is… Ephraim screwed up… He promised the Ministry a binload of shares in Malfoy Manor: my share and most of his own. Turns out Ephraim mortgaged the whole of Malfoy Manor to an American hedge fund.'

Julius sucked in his teeth, looking distinctly awkward. 'Ephraim wasn't quite as wealthy as we thought. We've heard from numerous creditors.'

'But that's Ephraim's problem, not Draco's!' Hermione said sharply.

'Not with regards to this particular contract. It was drawn up by Mr Malfoy's lawyer – Mr Haast. And it's watertight. We've taken some monies owed - a few dribs and drabs at Gringott's - and Mr Haast had the presence of mind to remove and liquidate all furnishings and valuables from Malfoy Manor, but we still have a rather sizeable sum outstanding.'

'Malfoy Manor's EMPTY?' Hermione shrilled. Draco nodded, hollow-eyed…

'Are you saying Draco still owes the Ministry shitloads of money for a house he doesn't even own?' Harry fumed.

'The problem is, Mr Potter, the Ministry NEEDS this money. Since coming to power I've discovered a rather large hole in our budget.'

'What sort of money are we talking about?'

Draco told them.

A stunned silence fell on the room.

'That's nuts!' Harry said tersely. 'How did the Ministry lawyers miss this when the contract was first drawn up?'

Julius shrugged. 'The old regime was rather cozy with Ephraim… somewhat beholden you could say. But the fact remains, Draco has to pay off this mortgage and effectively give us the property or equivalent cash… We would accept monthly installments.'

'But it'd take a lifetime to repay such a sum!' Hermione argued.

'What happens if I can't pay?' Draco asked.

Julius heaved a heartfelt sigh. 'My advice is to avoid a default.' He frowned deeply. 'Since becoming Minister I've vowed to restore a sense of tradition and legitimacy to our politics. This means due diligence and proper scrutiny at everylevel… without exceptions. It means restoring true justice – our system has become so corroded, so arbitrary… our traditions and laws so elastic they barely mean anything at all! Take Unforgivables, for example. They used to incur automatic banishment, but I can't even remember the last time someone was sent to Azkaban for performing an Imperius! And we now have a slew of highly irregular laws clogging up our statute books which lead to nothing but complication and corruption... I want those ditched.'

'Including the New Family Act I presume?' Hermione said tartly.

'It will take time to legally overturn, but it will be. There are clearly some very different-shaped families in our community.' Julius's lip twitched uncomfortably.

As if on cue, Ron swept into the house with Hugo and Scorpius who ran straight into the garden.

Ron was shiny-faced with sweat and wearing an unflattering tracksuit ensemble. Hermione wondered if he was finally embarking on the much-vaunted 'jogging' drive he'd threatened for the past decade and the boys had gone along to encourage him…

'Where's Rose and Magda?' Hermione asked in querulous tones. He'd offered to take the children this morning as Tana was coming over for brunch. Hermione had a hunch that Ron's relationship with his work-partner might be 'evolving' somewhat as she'd been keen to meet ALL the children!

'Hannah and Tana are taking them swimming…' but he wasn't able to explain further as Julius stood up to shake his hand.

'How hugely fortuitous, Mr Weasley,' Julius smiled. 'You've saved an owl a good deal of bother!'

'Oh? How so?' Ron was still a bit out of breath.

'You're probably aware of our planned restructuring at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement… well, your name has cropped up in relation to a rather interesting employment opportunity - to head up the Office for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts! We're amalgamating it into Section C – now known as the Department for the Misuse and Misapplication of Magic.'

Ron looked utterly flummoxed…

'That's – that's great, but if I stick at Section A I can get on with nailing the corrupt bastards who used to work there… I've got a full list!'

Julius flinched a little. 'A laudable aim… but I suspect most have resigned their posts already. Internal Affairs will investigate any troubling behaviour… and any criminal conduct will be dealt with in the usual way.'

'So you're letting them off scot-free?' Harry snorted derisively.

'Sounds like it,' Draco agreed.

'Gracious me, no!' Julius exclaimed. 'But it's a question of PROOF.' He returned his focus to Ron. 'Ms Blythe says you'll be an excellent candidate and Auror McLaughlin has happily sponsored your application – a most fortunate recommendation as it turns out. We're set to name her Head Auror tomorrow.'

'TANA? But she hasn't said a thing!' Ron expostulated. 'I was talking to her just ten minutes ago!'

Not a LONG jog then, Hermione thought…

'Maybe she wanted it to be a nice surprise?' Julius said with a sunny smile.

Molly wandered in from the kitchen, flour coating her hands to her elbows. She'd been using Folkvangr's kitchen as a spillover from her more cramped quarters at The Burrow. Tansy had become her chief culinary assistant.

She'd clearly been eavesdropping and looked desperate to intervene, but Julius Merriman unfurled himself from the sofa to leave.

'And what if I don't take the job?' Ron asked to everyone's surprise.

'Well… there's a potential opening in Section B… Tom Bennet's old job – but there'd be extremely stiff competition. I wouldn't recommend it.'

'Can't I just stay where I am?'

Julius wavered. 'I'm afraid not… A plaintiff has come forward with some rather unfortunate allegations - fully-costed and corroborated - regarding your comportment during the Quidditch case you were working on. Sadly, I can't give you further details.'

Ron looked desperate. 'What allegations? I worked that case with Tana… she can vouch for me.'

'She already has. Hence the job offer, Mr Weasley.' Julius gave him a pitying smile. 'We're working in your best interests to make this go away, believe me.'

Draco saw Julius to the door.

'George has suggested Ron join him in the business,' Molly said wistfully.

'But do you really see yourself as a shopkeeper?' Harry asked Ron.

'I'd rather be an Auror!' Ron said fiercely, his dreams crashing.

'You've got to take the new job. You haven't got a choice,' Draco said, returning from the hallway. 'Fully-costed was code. Someone's accused you of taking bribes.'

'But I haven't!' Ron cried. 'I'm clean! Unlike the other fuckers in that department.'

'It's a good deal, all considered,' Hermione said quietly, although she was stewing inside. Who was the plaintiff? She suspected Ruddy Krenzel…

Ron looked miserable. 'Misuse of Muggle Artefacts…That's Dad's old turf, isn't it?'

'No shame in that,' Molly said beadily.

Ron shuffled uncomfortably… 'You're right… he can give me a few tips… Truth is, I HAVE to take the job because I owe a bit for what I paid on top for this place…' He gazed around the living-room of Folkvangr.

'Who did you borrow from, Ron?' Hermione asked waspishly.

Ron visibly flinched. 'In light of everything it seems really foolish…'

Hermione stared at him, demanding an answer.

'Tom Bennet,' he admitted. 'He hasn't DEMANDED repayment but he sent me a rather cryptic note – it's inferred.'

Hermione groaned. Tom bloody Bennet. Of all people… None of this was a coincidence.

'A note you can ignore… he's just taking the piss. He knows we're after him…' Draco growled.

'But I borrowed A LOT. And – and from others, too. Not just Tom…' Ron said, almost shrinking as he spoke. 'I've run into a bit of trouble, actually.' He looked directly at Draco. 'I was rather hoping you could sub me a bit…'

'Draco's skint,' Harry said baldly.

'SKINT? But you're paying for EVERYTHING, Draco,' Molly said heatedly. 'How are you managing?'

'Muggle investments… it's fine.' He didn't sound convincing.

'I'll tell Tansy to go easy on the butter…' Molly said, dashing to the kitchen.

'You're going to need a job… after everything,' Harry said to Draco. 'I can probably sort you out something at Auror HQ. You could work with me.'

Hermione looked at Ron. This was hardly tactful!

'I'm not exactly Auror material,' Draco laughed.

'You damn well are. You BOTH are, actually.'

'I'd hate it,' Hermione said with feeling.

'After all this crap? I'll want a quiet life,' Draco grinned. 'There's this tech start-up Ziff and I have been working on. Hopefully I'll have enough cash left to fund it.'

XXX

It felt strange being back at Wisteria Cottage.

Hermione had brought swimming costumes for Rose and Magda. Hannah and Tana were taking the girls to a sports centre in the neighbouring town.

'It's good to see you,' Tana beamed. She was tanned and freckled, looking even more wholesome and outdoorsy than usual. They were sitting in the garden with glasses of lemonade and the girls were so engrossed playing in Hugo's old sandpit they didn't even look up when Hermione arrived.

Hermione sat down for a few moments and closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of the sun on her face. It felt so familiar here - and yet different. Had it always been this quiet? Even the light breeze as it shook the tall trees surrounding the garden was softer, even soothing. The cottage was old and crumbling but characterful – unlike the cold, slick modernity of Folkvangr with its high fence and hemmed-in lawn. Here there were bushes and weedy undergrowth and a sense that nature still roamed free.

'I hope you don't mind me and Neville stopping here,' Hannah said in timorous tones.

'God, no. It's nice for Ron.' Hermione could feel Tana's nutbrown eyes watching her as she spoke… 'Thanks for recommending Ron for this new job,' she said. 'Looks like he's run out of road at Section A.'

'I think he'll like it,' Tana said brightly.

'It's a terrible load of rubbish he's been accused of,' Hermione said, watching Tana closely. 'Who accused him?'

Tana looked at her hands on the table. 'I'm not privy to those details, unfortunately.'

'When are we going to the pool?' Rose called. She looked up and saw her mother and came running over, Magda toddling behind.

Once they were kitted out in their new swimsuits Hermione let herself out, but a scrap of parchment on the coffee table in the living-room caught her attention. It had been scrunched-up in anger.

She smoothed it out and read:

'Bit short on the old readies so hoping you made good on that investment you were telling me about… Time to cash in, mate. Though I'll cry me a river if you haven't made a killing! I need that dosh. Tom.'

The note was far from cryptic and nothing was inferred… it was a DEMAND for repayment.

And there was something weird... something underhand, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

She let herself out and sped towards The Burrow. She passed the kids' school on her left with the park on her right and then cut through the estate where she now lived.

It seemed so dull and torpid and claustrophobic after Wisteria Cottage… beige, blocky houses, hot, steaming roads. She traversed Willowbank Avenue, skirted Valhalla Crescent and headed down Weeping Brook Lane, past Folkvangr, to the fields stretching towards The Burrow.

She was still thinking about Tom's note. Ron had presumably invented some cock-and-bull investment opportunity rather than a house when he'd asked for money. Otherwise how could Tom expect him to quickly cash in?

The Burrow was busy. She could hear the thudded chock of a football being struck - children playing in the paddock - and Gwen was hurrying from the kitchen with a pitcher and glasses on a tray.

'I need to pick up a few bits from your place later, if that's okay?' Gwen said, greeting her cousin with a kiss on the cheek. 'You heard we've moved back to Mum's?'

'A sanity break?' Hermione laughed. She wanted to tell Gwen she was pregnant but she could sense eyes on her, raking her skin, as though trying to peer underneath.

Hermione glanced at a hodge-podge collection of tables and chairs at the edge of the lawn. Katya was watching her, completely ignoring Gunter's best efforts to make conversation as he plied her with elderflower cordial and a batch of Molly's cauldron cakes.

Arthur had recruited quite a band to re-build the chicken-coop. Draco was astride the roof being passed planks of wood and banging in nails with an air of barely contained violence. It was hot work and his shirt was open.

He was enjoying himself, Hermione thought with a smile. If Ziff's tech adventure failed to take off, he could always be a carpenter or builder. He liked making things…

She smiled again and her hand automatically rested on her belly.

'Do you think he's gone into hiding?' Ginny said once Gwen had moved on.

'Salvedra? I hope not.'

Her eyes moved to the children playing football. Albus had been tackled hard by Alfred and was clutching his ankle. Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation.

'Kids, eh?' she groaned. 'Who'd have 'em? Let alone more.' She smirked at Hermione, her eyes twinkling. 'Quick work…'

Hermione blushed heatedly. 'Not planned.'

'Merlin's pants!… This means I'll have to be an aunt to a bloody Malfoy…'

Hermione gave her a quizzical look. 'We're – we're not actually related you know.'

'As good as,' Ginny said airily. 'Scorpius called me Aunty Ginny earlier… he was only copying what he's heard Rose and Hugo call me, but it's not fair to exclude the wee chap just because of the unfortunate circumstances of his birth, is it now?'

Hermione's mouth twitched in amusement. 'Well, you're welcome to be aunt to whoever arrives from this very fortunate circumstance…'

Ginny looked her up and down. 'Doesn't show.'

'Won't yet… though my bra's tight.'

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. 'Bet Draco loves that.'

'He – he is rather captivated by my anatomy at the moment, actually…' Her eyes were drawn back to him on the roof of the chicken-coop and she sighed.

Ginny leant in closer. 'We finally coaxed Mrs Malfoy out of the living-room into the sunshine… Bill rather cruelly nicked her notepad and pencil and took them outside… it was the first response we've had from her! Total freak-out!'

'Did she speak?'

Ginny brusquely shook her head. 'Oh no! That'd be far too normal! She sort of… keened. And she's been outside ever since. Drawing away… in her own little world.'

Hermione tried not to laugh at the tragi-comedy of it all. The poor woman needed help. But there was no way she could go to St Mungo's in the current circumstances.

Katya was staring fixedly at Draco… and then her eyes would drop to the drawing-pad in front of her and she feverishly worked her pencil across the page.

'Well, it's nice that someone gave her paper,' she murmured. 'Drawing obviously comforts her.'

'Yeah, Mum found her a sketchpad when she started drawing on the tablecloth. She draws that tower-place she was stuck in LOADS. That's why Ron and George got the painting. They're setting it up in the living-room right now…'

'WHAT?' Hermione cried. 'Someone could spy on us!'

The hammering at the chicken-coop stopped. Draco quickly descended and hurried over.

'Oh, they're making it all blank-looking and mysterious!' Ginny said defensively. 'You don't need to worry about that!'

'When did you get here?' Draco asked. He almost kissed her but remembered himself and drew back…

'A few minutes ago… Did you know the tower painting's been moved here?'

'Why? That's bonkers!'

'To comfort Katya,' Hermione said sardonically.

'The best thing would be to find out what potions and pills she was taking! Ephraim would know,' he hissed in low tones. 'Have you heard from Pascal?'

'No, but when I do, I'll get him to ask…'

Harry had wandered over. 'Did I hear you say that painting's here?'

Hermione nodded, a dark look in her eye.

'Is it blacked-out at the back? We don't want any Tom, Dick or Harry creeping into The Burrow.'

TOM… That reminded her. That note… Why did it make her so uneasy?

She was about to say something but was distracted by Katya moving purposefully towards the house, closely shadowed by Kai who seemed to have taken it on herself to keep a watchful eye at all times.

She'd left her drawing pad on the table….

'Excuse me,' Hermione said, tripping over to take a quick look at what she was doing. It was intrusive… but she wanted to see what and who Katya had been sketching.

Draco looked over her shoulder as she thumbed through page after page.

The Tower. Again and again... And here was The Burrow… ramshackle and crudely patched-up. Three or four different sketches, one after the other… and from different angles.

The paddock, too, and the driveway.

Molly… rendered well. Arthur… less so. Bill… three pages of Bill, which struck her as curious. And Harry. And Ron. And… Henrik, who warranted a double-sided sketch it seemed. And Gunter. Gosh… Lots of Gunter.

She almost closed the pad but Draco stayed her hand. 'There's more at the back…'

'Oh yes.'

'Scorpius,' Draco said dolefully. An angry-looking Scorpius. Harsh, dark lines etched onto his face, crows feet that aged him and a contemptuous sneer.

'He doesn't look like this!'

'Maybe he does when he looks at her?'

A loud clattering from the chicken-coop and a furious cry… Henrik had accidentally dropped a plank onto Bill's foot. Draco grunted and went to help out.

Hermione flicked through the remaining sketches feeling distinctly queasy. She wasn't sure if this was morning sickness or a flash of foreboding.

There were numerous sketches of Draco – lovingly rendered in minute detail. Many were clearly fantasy.

And then herself. Just one drawing. Her eyes were black… And she was holding Magda…

Hermione almost dropped the sketchpad… but her sudden breathless fear ratcheted up moments later… ROSE. Three, no, four double-sided portraits.

There really was some lovely drawing here... She'd captured Rose beautifully – but she'd only seen her once! Here. In the kitchen. Yet Rose was pictured in the garden… yes, that was the arching bough of the old apple tree.

'Bloody peculiar,' Hermione whispered to herself, her hand trembling as she turned the pages.

Strange… she thought. Where both sides had been used, the pencil-marks differed slightly. Heavier. Angry…

More sketches… Ah, there was Kai! She hadn't seen that before… Elizaveta. Niko… Was that Pascal? Yes. He'd also been in the kitchen that day.

Hermione dashed over to the chicken-coop.

'Come to see our Chicken-Palace?' Henrik chortled.

'She's drawing everybody!' Hermione interjected. 'LOOK!' She flicked through the drawing-pad…

Bill looked perturbed. 'Why ME?'

'Why ROSE? Here. In the garden?' Hermione asked… 'And look. I've got black eyes…'

Arthur had a worried frown on his face. 'Feels like we're being spied on.'

'No, Arthur. She picked up a portkey… she was following Draco,' Hermione said reluctantly. 'This isn't a ploy.'

'Maybe… but she's scaring the life out of Molly. It's why she's at Folkvangr half the time.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, I truly am!' Hermione's insides twisted in guilty anguish. 'We should move her.'

'Better she's with us than you,' Arthur said, grimacing at the picture of Rose in Hermione's hands. 'But we need to get her to talk! Find out what's really going on.'

'I'm trying,' Draco remonstrated. 'But… It's like she's been brought back to life but isn't actually alive.'

'Oh, she's alive alright. The same as any of us… and I realise she's suffered, but that's no excuse for discourtesy.' Hermione was surprised by Arthur's hardline attitude.

'Do you feel she's malevolent?' Hermione asked. Her voice seemed to resound amongst them… the unspoken fear.

Arthur didn't reply. He dipped his paintbrush into a pail of whitewash and started applying paint in furious strokes.

'I reckon it's classic Stockholm Syndrome,' Henrik said. 'Locked up for years, gets cozy but paranoid.'

'She's ill,' Draco sighed, seemingly in sympathy, except he didn't forgive her. Hermione could feel his fury, bristling.

'I think she needs to know you still care,' Bill advised Draco. 'She still loves you.'

'Strange kind of love,' Harry said with an acid smile. 'The wild-goose-chase with the necklace and then that bloody Matryoshka… It's not exactly balanced, Bill. Nothing like love. More like ownership.'

'I sometimes think she's SMELLING you, Draco,' Arthur said, stolidly focusing on painting.

Hermione looked at Arthur with wide, terrified eyes. 'SMELLING? As in SNIFFS?'

'And then there's the staring…' Harry added.

Draco buried his face in his hands. 'What a fine fucking mess.'

'Has she done any magic?' Hermione asked Arthur urgently.

'She hasn't got a wand.'

And she didn't have colour-magic. She'd have sensed it by now…

Their conversation was interrupted by Hugo urging Draco to come and play football. 'I will do. I promise… in a couple of minutes.'

But Hugo decided to sit next to Draco and wait it out. 'Why can't Muggles do magic?' he asked out of the blue.

'But they sort of do,' Draco said. 'Just… different. Not spells and things… but stuff that makes people happy. You know. Like music… One moment there's silence and the next there's something amazing and meaningful.'

Hugo looked a little perplexed. 'Is football magic?'

'I guess it can be… if played well enough.'

'So… if magic is stuff that makes you happy and football is ALSO magic, then being good to people and making them happy by playing football with them is the best magic of all!' Hugo said persuasively.

Draco burst out laughing. 'A flawless argument, Hugo. Come on, then!' He jumped to his feet and they joined the others.

Henrik regarded them enviously. 'Can I have some time off?' he asked Arthur.

'We're almost done here anyway.'

Ron and George were striding across the lawn towards them.

'The painting! Was that really the BEST idea?' Hermione asked them in withering tones.

'She's happy as Larry now,' George said, smacking his lips triumphantly. 'We've made the room all dark and gloomy. Can't see a bloomin' thing. And there's a black curtain-thingy you can flip over the painting whenever you want.' He looked at his brother proudly. 'We've thought of everything.'

'She'll want her little book though… Kai said she's always got it,' Ron added, pointing to the sketchpad in Hermione's hands.

'Tell you what? We should bring Magda over?' George said in ebullient tones. 'That might cheer her up!'

'She's a child, not a bloody support animal,' Harry said pithily.

'I'll take this to her,' Hermione said looking at the pad in her hands. She shot a quick glance at Draco. He was splitting the boys into teams – Louis to Captain one team, Vithu the other.

XXX

The living-room, devoid of furniture and clutter, looked much bigger than before. All that remained was a small, low couch and a rocking-chair. The curtains were drawn and the room's walls had been draped in grey sackcloth. An oil-lamp on a small table cast cold light. Hermione's shadow loomed large and imposing as she entered the room.

She was immediately struck by Katya's rapt expression as she sat on the sofa staring longingly at the tall gleaming painting on a makeshift easel at the back of the room.

'You left this in the garden,' Hermione said, keeping her voice as level as possible.

Katya didn't respond, though her face flickered a little.

Hermione eyed her with growing frustration. She needed answers…

She flipped the cover on the painting and sat down beside her. She thumbed through the book alighting on a picture of Rose.

'Why have you drawn my daughter?'

Katya kept her face averted. Her small, elfin features seemed to slightly sniff the air.

'You've only met her once and yet you've drawn her many times. I'd like to know why.'

Katya tilted her face towards Hermione. A sharp, diagonal shadow cut across her features, rendering one eye a clear, artless blue, whilst the other was dark and impenetrable.

Hermione's scalp crawled icy-cold but she bent her face closer… This was a young, troubled woman with no recourse to magic. Harmless.

'You drew me, too – but with black eyes.' She wasn't going to mention Magda… 'But I don't have black eyes - so why did you do that?'

Katya regarded her in silence.

Hermione had expected Katya's 'colour' to be rosy pink… but she was more an ashen rosy-grey…

Cenizas de Rosas

'You need to talk to us, Katya… we might be able to help you,' Hermione said in quiet tones, maintaining eye contact as best she could. 'We know you've suffered and I'm sorry that you're suffering still… I'm sorry that we – that Draco and I – have hurt you. I truly am.'

Katya blinked rapidly. A response. At last…

'But I'd rather we were honest about this… Because I want you to know that we never intendedto hurt you. Far from it... But things happen. Life changes when we least expect it to. It is what it is.'

Hermione edged even closer. If she touched her she might be able to peek beneath the surface… The ashen rose was swirling in her mind; thick and oppressive. She summoned her purple - a robust defence, but simultaneously eased it into Katya… seeking, searching, trying to scope out a sense of the woman.

She was shockingly blank! A barren grey. But there were flashes of black, coiled shiny threads, spiraling and tumbling…. Hermione resisted her natural instinct - rapid retreat – and pressed on. No one could be this blank. No one human… and Katya was definitely human. She could almost sense the weight and warmth of her organs, her innards pressing in on the hollow kernel at her core.

Is this what a certain kind of madness feels like? she wondered. A muted scream…

There was something else, though. A fuzziness, like static on a television, tucked into the far corner of her mind… It made a noise. A harsh buzz that was getting louder and louder… like a hornet's nest that had been kicked open.

A woman was crying… or was it laughter? Hermione couldn't tell.

Talk to me, she said in loud, declamatory tones that seemed to echo around the blank, grey space…. A rushing sound like water seemed to come from her right… She turned to look.

And it was black. Deep-void BLACK.

Hermione gasped and pulled back. And a voice rang out loud in her head… But she couldn't make out what they were saying or even who it was… She presumed it was a woman, but the moment she tried to catch hold of it, it slipped through her mind, like dark rain.

She tried to focus, fighting a dank, grey bleariness… and white flashed at the corner of her eyes…

Draco.

'What are you doing?' he asked urgently, pulling her up from the couch.

Hermione's ears were still ringing. Katya was staring ahead, ignoring them – but Hermione felt sure her lips curled upwards, ever-so-slightly.

Malevolent, indeed…

XXX

'Please, Hermione. Don't ever try that again,' Draco begged, almost frog-marching her out of The Burrow.

'I had to know - and she's all grey; but there's black, too.'

She could sense blackness in him at the moment! He was angry and scared – more than he was letting her know in the usual course of things.

'It's getting late. Best we head back to Folkvangr. Harry and I are going to have another scoot-around picture-world…'

'I think it's my shift.'

'You look tired.'

'You said you wouldn't coddle me!' she said, raising her voice.

'I'm not! You look tired… that's all…' He tenderly squeezed her arm.

Hermione set out across the fields with Gwen. Draco and Harry would follow with the kids.

Gwen hooked her arm through hers and they walked in companionable silence. Eventually Gwen said: 'It's going to be weird being back in Muggleland.'

Hermione looked ahead to Folkvangr and the other modern houses on Weeping Brook Lane. 'Well, this is Muggleland… devices work at Folkvangr.'

'But The Burrow and Shell Cottage and The Blue House… they've been extraordinary experiences… I'm a bit worried Oleg's going to find it all a bit dull in comparison.'

'As long as you're there, I'm sure he'll love it.'

A burnt orange sunset streaked across the fields behind them, fading rapidly to a broadening purple horizon. Many of the houses on Weeping Brook Lane already had lights on and deeper into the estate a blue light spiraled slowly round and round.

Weeping Brook Lane…

The words repeated in her head…

I'm going mad, Hermione thought. Venturing inside 'Katya' had screwed with her mind.

They stepped into the house and Thelonious offered to make them tea.

'That'd be lovely,' Hermione said, sinking onto the sofa … Draco would be back soon. And the boys. Parvati was picking up the girls from Ron's.

A few minutes' shut-eye would be welcome…

Cry me a RiverCry me a River

What the hell did that even mean?

'What's Cry me a River?' she asked Gwen… that was what had puzzled her about Tom's note, she realised. Such a strange phrase to use.

'Oh. It's sort of sarcastic when someone's being a bit of a drama queen… And there's the song… you know…' And Gwen hummed it.

Yes, yes, she did know… and it continued in her head.

Cry me a River.

Crying LIKE a river – or a river that cries? A crying river… like a brook, Hermione thought… suddenly feeling winded… A weeping brook

WEEPING BROOK LANE….

She jumped up, almost colliding with Thelonious who was passing her a cup of tea.

'What's wrong?' he cried.

'Tom Bennet knows where we are!'

But did he know WHERE EXACTLY? Ron might've told him he was buying a house and he worked out where that house was… but that didn't mean he knew the exact address.

'Who's Tom Bennet?' Gwen exclaimed, infected by Hermione's fear. Her eyes shone white in the glare of the ceiling spotlights.

'What's going on outside?' Thelonious said.

More whirling blue lights… Darkness was falling and the blue lights blended with the red glow of tail-lights on the back of vehicles taking up most of the road outside.

Thelonious peered through the kitchen window. 'Quite a crowd.'

Hermione craned to see over the hedge – she could make out the top of an ambulance and another emergency vehicle, a police car.

She heard the front door click open and moments later the slim form of Gwen passed the nose of the police-car and disappeared from view.

'I'll go take a look,' Hermione said. Thelonious stood at the open door, an anxious frown on his face.

A high-pitched scream rent the air… Hermione felt a surge of panic rising inside of her. GWEN. That sounded like Gwen…

Police tried to push her back and she was jostled by silent onlookers and a child was crying… and she could barely make out a heated exchange above the non-stop fizz and burble of walkie-talkies, tinny and distant, clicking on and off.

'Let me through,' she said in urgent tones to the young policeman trying to block her from moving forward. 'That's my cousin.'

She impatiently elbowed him aside and ran to Gwen who was kneeling in a pool of blood surrounded by paramedics, police… A body was being zipped into a long, black bag.

Hermione briefly glimpsed a bulky woman, a mess of blood… And Gwen's shoulders heaving.

A young policewoman knelt beside her, a glare of fluorescent yellow, but Gwen brusquely turned away.

'Gwen…' Hermione breathed, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Gwen snapped round to look at her. She was pale and shaking. 'She's meant to be on a cruise! Why's she here? Like this?'

Hermione felt like fainting… like her head might explode.

AUNT RITA?

There was no point asking if she was dead when she'd already heard the sweeping zip of the body bag close around her.

Aunt Rita. Gwen's mum… A bloodied corpse… Dead on Weeping Brook Lane.

'We have to get back to the house,' she whispered.

But Gwen shook her head.

'Come on…' Hermione said a little more forcefully. 'She feels sick,' she said to the policewoman. 'I'm just taking her to the loo!'

She threw her arm around Gwen's waist and pushed through the crowd.

'But Mum…' Gwen said in a soft, girlish voice. Her lips were white with shock. 'She's in the ambulance.'

Thelonious was waiting at the end of the path.

'What's happened?'

'Get her inside,' Hermione hissed.

She could sense she was being watched. No, that wouldn't do!

'Look after her! I have to do something!'

She momentarily stepped aside and rubbed her hand across her eyes, stifling an urge to vomit… No time for that, she thought. No time.

She scanned the street… A figure in the crowd. A mud-brown hoodie. YES! There you are!

She weaved through the milling spectators – the police car was reversing and some onlookers were scattering - but Hermione didn't let him out of her sight.

He knew… he knew they lived on Weeping Brook Lane! He'd killed Gwen's mother. Her aunt. And left her body to lure them out. To see where they lived…

He slipped beyond the crowd and rounded the corner onto Valhalla Crescent where there was another pathway leading to the far corner of fields.

Hermione speeded up and was onto him… She grabbed hold of his hoodie and then fell into a breathless whirl, a dark roiling sensation ripping through her.

She landed heavily on hard grass; the sky was dark and studded with stars overhead..

'Came along for the ride, did you?' snarled Tom Bennet. He flung his arm into her face and for a brief moment she saw red, but she couldn't afford to loosen her grip on him.

HE KNEW WHERE THEY LIVED! Her children, Draco… people she loved. He knew it all… She couldn't afford him telling Sylvestra - or anyone else for that matter.

The windmill loomed to her left, a tall shadow against the night sky, its downstairs windows ablaze with light.

'I reckon you'll be quite the prize,' Tom Bennet leered. He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to haul her off the ground but she focused hard – pulsating with purple until she glowed – making herself as heavy as possible, heavy as lead, rooted to the ground…

'Hell's bells…One of those are you?' he panted, before collapsing on top of her. She instantly jerked upwards, throwing him backwards, but he was lightning-quick, rolling her over and pinioning her arms behind her head. An unnerving light gleamed in his eye as she struggled and flailed beneath him.

'Draco got himself a bit of a wild cat, didn't 'e?' He raised his eyebrows cockily. 'Lucky fucker…'

Hermione grunted in fury and summoned every ounce of strength inside of her… She freed her arms from his grip and smashed her fists into his chest pushing him over and straddling him, forcing her knees into the crook of his arms until he was gasping in pain.

'Who knows where you were today?' she rasped, sweat pouring down her face with the effort of pushing him deeper into the ground… she could feel the crunch of his body beneath the sharp bone of her knees.

'TELL ME!' she said, bursting with desperation and a strange sort of sorrow…

She pressed her hands down onto his chest and he opened his mouth to cry out. His eyes were wild and staring. Shocked at her strength and power.

'No one,' he gurgled, pleading. She stared at him… eyes boring into his face. What now? Take him prisoner?

His eyes flicked towards the windmill. Somebody had come outside…

She raised her wand to Stupefy him but he swung his elbow into her jaw and she gasped as his wand poked her stomach uncomfortably… 'Sylvestra told me about your bonny wee surprise…you and Draco have been busy!' He laughed nastily. 'Can't stand the critters meself… one less won't matter…'

He opened his mouth – but before any words could possibly tumble out Hermione twisted his wand-hand away and pushed a violent, seething, incandescent surge of magic into him…her heart racing, blood pumping, teeth gritted… 'Blood to stone!' she rasped – the first thing that came to mind, that could end this… and was horrified as his face slowly froze into a ghastly rictus grin and his eyes stilled grey.

She'd killed before, but this felt different. Too close. Repellent…

Can't think about it, she thought to herself. Once we're safe… maybe then… but not now, not today.

'Tom?' came a voice from the open doorway. 'Is that you?' Sylvestra…

Hermione held her breath…

'Where did he go, do you know? He's been gone for hours,' Sylvestra said to a long shadowy figure who'd joined her at the windmill's threshold.

'He promised us a surprise…' her companion said, snorting in derision. Hermione recognised that voice… It was Troy. 'Ruddy's out of patience. He's cut the cards already. We're starting without him.'

Hermione could hear men's voices laughing; Krenzel's South African accent was particularly prominent.

Both figures wandered back inside.

She could see Sylvestra sitting at a table beside Ruddy Krenzel with his curly mop of hair. Troy stood behind her - a protective stance. And around the table were a handful of Aurors she vaguely recognised – Nesbitt, Cairns, Toffitt and Charlie Dowson.

She could disappear and leave Tom as a parting gift or… they were sitting ducks. She could get backup and attack. Take out their HQ.

The rose garden painting… upstairs. Might be worth stealing, but first - a Patronus.

Everyone was engrossed in the game – there was ribald laughter and the clink of glasses and someone shouted angrily.

She sent a message to Draco with a bold flourish of her wand and a sleek, silver tiger was let loose, leaping into the darkened fields… Would he still see that in picture-world?

In the meantime, she had to think of a way to dispose of Tom's body… how much effort would it take to Evanesco?

XXX

Bill and Angelina almost passed her in the darkness.

'Over here,' she whispered.

Gunter and Elizaveta followed.

'Harry sent a Patronus… They're still in the paintings with Niko,' said Gunter.

'There's a painting here, isn't there?' Elizaveta said. 'They might arrive THAT way.'

'Do we wait to hear from the others or just steam in and hope for the best?' Bill asked.

'A shooting match inside could get messy very fast,' Gunter said. He pulled a ball of GX61 out of this pocket. 'I suggest we chuck this into the windmill… fry their magic and force them outside. We lie in wait at a safe distance and ambush them…'

'Is it our objective to kill them?' Elizaveta asked coolly. Hermione shuddered… Troyanda13 had no qualms killing to achieve an aim. She'd forgotten that. But then the same could now be said for her…

'Who are the key players here?' Gunter asked Hermione.

'Sylvestra, for sure… And Troy's dangerous. Possibly, Krenzel.'

'Okay. So our mission is to terminate the danger they pose to us… I don't care how. And destroy that windmill, removing their base.'

Bill was keen to practice Fiendfyre as it wasn't a spell he'd ever performed. It wasn't the kind of magic decent wizards usually indulged in… but these were different times calling for different measures…

Hails of hearty laughter and a furious slap on the table emanated from the windmill. Someone HATED losing, Hermione thought. From the scrunched-up, pouty cat-look on Sylvestra's face, it was her.

'But what if Elizaveta's right and Draco and the others come through the painting upstairs?' Hermione worried. 'They could walk straight into Fiendfyre.'

'Okay, Hermione… you get inside and take the painting… We need to make a move or they'll be on to us.' He took a deep breath. 'Right… let's go.'

Minutes later and a blue cloud was floating above the gaming table and there were outraged yelps and a frenzied commotion… Sylvestra was peering through the window into the darkness, eyes slitted – her resemblance to an angry cat even more striking.

Hermione shrank into the shadows beside the open doorway as everyone – including Sylvestra - filed past her.

She tripped up the stairs as quietly as possible as a volley of spells cracked and fizzed behind her – lighting up the sky with brash flashes of colour.

Katya's room was still and quiet, lit only by the panoply of lights and colours reflected on the window from the wand-fight below. Scrimshaw's body was gone but the floor was bloodstained – even a little tacky. Hermione glimpsed a screwed-up ball of paper – Katya's drawings - under the table and stuffed it into her pocket.

She put her hands on the painting and summoned colour-magic to make it light and portable but a cold lick of magic curled its way around her… dark, fathomless.

She shivered in fear, her hands dropping from the picture-frame, eyes drawn upwards..

How the hell had SHE got here?

Sylvestra was flat against the ceiling, like a giant bat…

'Always good to see you, Hermione,' she said smoothly, and in that same instant a glistening silvery gloop tumbled downwards, thick, glutinous skeins of silver entangling themselves around Hermione's limbs… but she clenched her fists and fought herself free and darted onto the landing.

'Not so fast!' Sylvestra yelled, leaping to the floor with sinewy, acrobatic grace to block Hermione's path. 'Why the hurry?' she puckered artlessly. 'You're not SCARED of me, are you?'

In truth, Hermione was… Sylvestra was resistant to colour-magic and the GX61 meant she couldn't use wand-magic either.

Hermione said nothing… inwardly praying that Draco and Harry would come through the painting and distract her.

Sylvestra cocked her head and laughed. 'Everyone RAVES about how powerful you are for a Muggle-born… so very CLEVER they say… but in my opinion, you're nothing special!'

'I'm not trying to be,' Hermione retorted. I'm trying to survive, she thought.

'Good…' Sylvestra smirked, 'because you're no match for me! I've been using our magic for years - and this time, you haven't got Draco to make you stronger...' Sylvestra stepped closer, holding Hermione in her gaze, like a black-eyed snake eyeing up its prey. 'There is one thing I DO admire about you, though. You have a gift for convincing people to do what you want – like making my father humiliate himself and our family.' Her mouth tightened in fury. 'Rather than all this unnecessary nastiness between us, I think we could work together.'

'I've no intention of working with you on anything,' Hermione said in a tight, choked voice.

'Maybe you'll reconsider when you see your children about to die… because I can arrange that all too easily,' Sylvestra said with a sorry smile. 'Losing people you love can focus the mind… which reminds me, can I have my sister back?'

'I don't have your sister! Why would I want HER?' Hermione lied. 'I'm sleeping with her husband, remember?'

Sylvestra's eyes glowed venomously. 'I know you have her. And… possibly something else. Something she foolishly mislaid…'

Anna's papers

'You KNOW nothing,' Hermione snarled.

Someone, anyone, please come… Hermione silently begged. She blanked her mind, aware that Sylvestra's magic was slicing into her… trying to scavenge a vestige of the truth, a mere image, even. Hermione trembled with the effort of resisting…

She could sense Sylvestra's frustration building. She lacks patience, Hermione thought - a fatal flaw in her otherwise formidable arsenal - and she was inching closer and closer… backing Hermione up against the wall next to the table where Niko had found Katya's drawings.

There was a bed shoved against the wall behind Sylvestra… It seemed an impossible task but…Focus and Flow, she thought, Focus and Flow… Yes! It was moving upwards… bit by bit… higher, higher - until it was upright.

Hermione's limbs were shaking with tension and she was aching with the mental effort of keeping her face smooth and unflustered - but all she had to do was raise it up and let it… DROP…

Sylvestra screamed as the bed crashed into the back of her head, jolting her to her knees. She was smothered by a tumbling cascade of white bedlinens. She skidded onto her belly, arms out in front of her and groaned as the bed collapsed heavily on top of her.

Hermione immediately leapt onto the bed to launch herself out of the room, but Sylvestra grabbed her ankle and with superhuman strength yanked her backwards. Hermione slammed onto the floor and struck her head against the table.

A blinding blur of light flashed across her vision… and to her dismay, Sylvestra reared upwards, tipping the bed off her back with scary ease. Hermione instinctively fired off a shot of searing purple… but Sylvestra bent backwards, elastic and yielding, so that Hermione's magic whizzed past her and petered into a faint speckling trace.

Desperate, Hermione seized the table-leg behind her and with a loud grunt, sweating with the effort, she pitched the table at Sylvestra…

Sylvestra roared furiously, swiping the table away, pulverizing it into a fine, scratchy sawdust. She threw herself at Hermione – blood up, control vanquished – gripping her neck with both hands and squeezing hard, digging her nails into Hermione's throat.

Hermione swallowed back hot bile. The urge to vomit was almost overwhelming… But she couldn't fail. Not now. Not here. Too much to live for.

She could feel colour-magic brewing up inside of her… scorching hot power, like molten lava spooling through her veins… She was choking and crying but with a supreme effort she was able to twist out of Sylvestra's grasp and jab her knee fast and sharp into Sylvestra's groin.

Sylvestra grunted in shock but wound her hand into Hermione's hair, roughly pulling her back when she tried to make a break for it… Holding back tears of pain Hermione swung her fist against the side of Sylvestra's head, followed by a ferocious right-hook under her chin.

Sylvestra eased out a dazed sigh, starry-eyed, and her hold on Hermione slackened.

Hermione took advantage of Sylvestra's unsteadiness to claw herself up from the floor and scramble over the bed parked in the centre of the room, aiming for the staircase beyond the open door – but a rolling blast of colour-magic electrified her, slamming her against the door-jamb.

She span around, mortified to see Sylvestra standing on the bed, eyes flashing, shimmering with dark magic… Her powers of recovery were remarkable, unhuman.

The window, she thought…it was all that was left… She imagined the glass shattering, fragments flying through the air – a gleaming projectile…

The window exploded and Hermione threw herself onto the floor as myriad glistening shards of glass rocketed across the room, hitting Sylvestra …

Sylvestra shrieked in pain, ribbons of blood streaking across her face and neck. She fell down, bellowing in vexation… Her voice shook the walls and she showered Hermione with scalding, stabbing sparks of pure pain that had Hermione gasping and crying.

Hermione threw up a translucent colour-magic shield, but Sylvestra was weakening… a froth of pink-stained saliva spluttered from her mouth and dribbled down her chin. Sylvestra placed her hand against her abdomen and shook her head in disbelief. She'd been impaled by a long, thin spear of glass… She wrenched it free releasing a slick flow of blood that soaked the bedclothes beneath her within seconds.

'What have you done?' she mewed…She was convulsing uncontrollably and to Hermione's surprise blood was dripping down her face in slow rivulets as tears streamed from her eyes.

A tumult to her right and Harry had bounded from the painting, Draco alongside him.

Sylvestra cowered, like a cornered beast, and Draco sneered – fierce and greedy. He raised his wand, poised to strike…

'No, Draco!' Hermione cried, 'it won't work!'

Sylvestra threw back her head and opened her mouth and let out a piercing, high-pitched scream that had Hermione slamming her hands to her ears, her head suddenly pounding with pain, and Draco and Harry falling backwards.

Black smoke was hissing and writhing, a living thing, spiraling through Sylvestra like a long, black flame... a black blizzard… before catapulting her upwards and out of the empty window-frame.

She was gone…

'I thought we had her!' Hermione moaned.

'You okay?' Draco asked, capturing her in his arms and holding her tight.

'Gunter used GX61,' she said. 'Wand-magic didn't work..'

'I'm sorry we're late getting here… we had company.'

'Company?' Hermione instantly thought of Salvedra.

'JOSEP,' Harry snarled bitterly.

'Where's Niko?' she asked, alarmed.

'He set off a fucking light-quake to keep Josep at bay,' Draco said.

'Is he ALIVE?'

'We think so…' Harry said, but she worried it was more hope than certainty.

'We need to help the others…' Hermione said. But outside there were bodies lying still on the ground; it was quiet, except for Gunter, leaning over Elizaveta, babbling in German.

Hermione's heart sank. 'Oh no… is she—?'

'No…' Gunter's reddish eyes were dimmed. 'She's hurt, though.'

Elizaveta's teeth were chattering in shock. Her arm was almost severed from her shoulder.

'We'd better get her back fast,' Draco said, kneeling beside her while Harry quickly scooted around the windmill to see if Sylvestra had landed close by.

'Shell Cottage I think,' Angelina said, striding towards them. 'I've broken my hand…'

The windmill burst into a towering blaze behind them… they all stared, faces stinging in the heat. 'Job done,' Bill said triumphantly, 'though Troy got away… the bastard.'

'Can't find Sylvestra,' Harry said grouchily. He gawped at the inferno… 'Fucking hope Niko wasn't trying to get through that painting!'

Bugger, Hermione thought… they'd left it behind.

'I've got to get back to Gwen,' she said to Draco. 'Her mother was murdered.'

'Jesus… Who by?'

'Tom Bennet. I killed him.'

XXX

'She just upped and left!' Parvati wept. 'Oleg went with her – obviously.'

'Where's she now?'

'She wouldn't say. Said she had something to do,' Thelonious replied, despondent.

'Uncle Derek,' Hermione said to Draco. She unloaded the scrunched-up paper from the windmill onto the dining table and was ready to leave straight away.

'Hold on, I'm coming, too,' Bill said. 'We need to protect your uncle's hospice…'

XXX

When Hermione, Draco and Bill arrived at The Spires, the lights were dimmed. Bill mumbled a spell and the duty nurse looked away as they passed her station.

'In here…' Hermione said. The door was open and they collided with Oleg, standing against the wall looking crestfallen.

'She won't want to see you,' he said sadly.

'None of you… not ever again,' came Gwen's quavering voice from behind the door.

'Gwen…' Hermione said softly. 'Please… I'm so sorry.'

'It's no good, Hermione..' Gwen sobbed. 'I've had enough. I was better off before… before your world stomped all over my world…'

'Don't say that,' Hermione said in bleating tones. She looked at Oleg. His fingers had pushed his glasses up as he pressed away tears from his eyes.

'She's said the same to me,' he said huskily. 'She thinks we've stolen her life.'

'My life… my son's life… Alfred isn't the same kid he once was. He'll never be happy with what he is, what we have. Not ever.'

Bill whispered something to Draco and shuffled off into the shady corridor.

Hermione edged around the door. Her uncle was breathing with the aid of a ventilator. His grey, worn face was illuminated by a single bedside spotlight. Gwen was holding his hand and trembling as sobs wracked her body.

She gazed at Hermione, looking tear-stained and wretched, hair askew.

'I have to think of Alfred… I spent too long forgetting that he's what counts most. You see, I can adapt back. But with Alfred, the rot's set in and I have to stop it. His best friend's a wizard and one day he'll be off to that Hogschool place you all go to – like one big, happy family—'

Not quite, Hermione thought…

'And Alfred will be stuck at the local comp trying to forget that there's another life, another world that he can never be part of.'

'But you can be…' Oleg said plaintively. 'I'd look after you.'

'I don't need looking after, Oleg,' Gwen said sharply. 'I'm my own person and I managed perfectly well before and I still can… if you – if all of you – just leave me alone.'

Hermione could feel tears sliding down her face.

'I'm sorry what's happened… I'm sorry you've been hurt…'

'My mum has been MURDERED… A real person, Hermione… someone who had nothing to do with all the shit going on in your stupid, made-up world…'

'Hardly made-up! We're real too!' Hermione countered, feeling her emotions getting away from her… Draco laid a hand on her arm and emerged into the room behind her.

'Gwen…' he said. 'By all means go home. Live your life and we'll help you in any way we can with what's happened to your mum…'

'No doubt avenging her with even MORE people dying! And so it goes on…' Gwen said, her face crumpling, lips twisted and trembling… 'it's all so bloody pointless and yet none of you see it… you just drag innocent people in… us poor magic-less MUGGLES, whose lives seem to have less value unless we're serving your great cause.'

Draco swallowed hard. 'You're right. The whole thing's stupid… our community's a fucking up-itself cult and I don't blame you for wanting out. But please, Gwen, don't shut Hermione out. Or Rose and Hugo. Even Scorpius. They love you. And that's nothing to do with being magical or Muggle. It's just love.'

Gwen's face contorted into a loud, wrenching sob. 'And I love them... But it's too much, Draco. Too much….'

Hermione reached out to touch her but Gwen pushed her away and turned her face to the wall.

For a brief moment, Uncle Derek stirred and a soft sigh escaped his thin, grey lips.

'Can you go now?' Gwen asked, shoulders juddering. 'All of you.'

Oleg threw her a desperate look but Hermione shook her head and led him away.

In the darkened corridor he held onto her, resting his head on her shoulder.

Draco followed a few minutes later. His face was pale and bottled-up. 'Let's find Bill and go home,' he murmured gently. 'There's nothing more we can do tonight.'

XXX

Hermione was too tired to cry anymore. She'd failed her cousin, her family… she hadn't protected them. Bill reassured her Gwen would be safe at her house. But nothing made her feel better…

'Is the hospice safe?'

'As much as it can be.'

Draco sat next to her on the sofa and she fell against him.

'Are the kids in bed?' she asked, hoping to follow their lead.

'Sound asleep… Do you want to go up?'

Henrik was poring over Katya's scrunched-up pictures at the dining table.

'Katya didn't draw these,' he murmured.

'She did,' Harry insisted. 'They were part of the same pile as these…' He pushed her drawings from the windmill towards Henrik.

'I've cross-referenced,' Henrik said, 'and I'm telling you, someone else drew these. See?' He lifted up a picture of Hermione. On one side there was a light, deft sketch, but on the other the same picture had been rendered in thick, dark jagged lines.

'It's a bit spooky she drew me when she hadn't met me,' Hermione admitted. 'But the darker version… It's probably a blunt pencil..'

'Okay, then,' Henrik sighed, 'what about this one?'

He held up a picture of Rose.

'Oh god,' Draco paled. His hand gripped Hermione's arm. 'She definitely hadn't seen HER before!'

Henrik flipped the paper over presenting a mirror-image – except her face was dark and shaded – and her eyes were blacked out. The drawing was both the same and yet different – a different hand – to the first…

'It had to be Sylvestra,' Bill said. 'Showing her who to look out for.'

'But Sylvestra didn't SEND Katya here,' Harry said. 'She came on her own accord.'

Hermione felt a fiery pain clench her chest. Raw panic... 'Someone's communicating with her… maybe it's an enchanted pad or something?'

'Definitely not the one she's been using at The Burrow,' asserted Bill.

'Whoever it is wants her to know who Rose is…' Draco said in low tones.

Everyone gasped as the French windows suddenly swung open and Niko stumbled into the living-room. He looked dishevelled, clothes torn and his hair was brittle and burnt.

'Fucking nightmare!' he shouted. 'I stepped into that bloody rose garden and the whole place blew up on me!'

'Oh no,' Bill said, aghast. 'That was my fault!'

'It doesn't matter! We've got something much bigger to think about,' Niko said dismissively. He gazed around the room. 'Padma's lit the fucking candle in the window… So we'd best get moving, guys! !t's fucking game on!'

XXX

CHAPTER TRACKS:

"L'INCONNUE" by BEACH HOUSE

"PARADISE"by NILÜFER YANYA

"HEART-SHAPED BOX" by NIRVANA

"KISS KISS BANG BANG" by HIGH CONTRAST

"VENUS IN FURS" byVELVET UNDERGROUND

"DON'T WANT TO KNOW" by KARINE POLWART

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters.