Whole City in Flames!
The Ministry of Magic reported that a civilian has blown up the town. The city was on flames for hours before dying down. The Dark Lord stated that this is a shocking tragedy. The Ministry will begin rebuilding the city in a few months. The Ministry is on the lookout for people involved in the tragic bombing.
- Rita Skeeter
The tense air around them hadn't shifted since they first got to the hotel. In the silence all that was heard was the ticking sounds of the clock on the wall.
Draco stared at the clock, a scowl on his face. He noticed that the tempo was uneven, like the clock was unsure of how time should have worked.
He sat on the broken wooden chair; the wooden table matched the chair, one leg shorter than the rest. Dead flowers sat atop the table and newspapers littered the surface.
Cleo sat on the floor of the hotel room and stared at the few knuts in her hand as she constantly clenched and unclenched her fists. The shape of the knut imprinted in her hand.
Hermione laid on the bed, looking emptily at the ceiling above her. Blood stained the sheets. The items in her pocket seemed to weigh her down, but she didn't have the energy to take it out. Nausea ran constantly through her body. She still seemed to have the adrenaline in her body, her heart-rate continuing to run.
None of them had spoken a word since Hermione had performed the diagnostic spell on herself. Third-degree burns. Cuts. Bruises.
But she was alive and breathing.
Cleo took a breath, stopped playing with the few knuts in her hand, "So... do we have a plan? I don't think that we can go back to my pub anymore."
Draco stopped rubbing the rings wrapped around his fingers. "We can't stay here forever. You're going to have to find a job and get used to this place."
"You act like it's easy to get a job," Cleo said, her face beginning to turn a light shade of red. "The pub was the only thing keeping me afloat," she scoffed, "and it's not like you know anything about working."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm just stating the facts. You can't just keep walking around all mopey about a building you lost."
"What the fuck, Malfoy?" Hermione propped herself up. "Let her grieve for her pub."
"It's an inanimate place," he drawled.
Cleo's jaw clenched. "That inanimate place was my home," she cooly said. She stood up and began to walk towards the door. "Watch over her —I'll go look for some food."
Hermione tried to stop Cleo from leaving her alone with Draco, but Cleo had already closed the door. A slight creak came from the metal door.
Hermione glared at Draco before falling back onto her bed and staring aimlessly at the ceiling —she could feel his eyes on her . "Why are you here—what are you even trying to do?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Granger." He spat her last name out before shaking his head. "And does your friend know about your identity? Or are you lying to her too?"
"The Granger you knew died in the Battle of Hogwarts just like everyone else she cared about. That girl doesn't exist anymore. No one I've met since knows me by anything other than Jean Dursley—"
He raised his brows, amusement flashed his face. "So you're going to keep lying to her? I don't think friendships work well when people lie to each other."
She scoffed at him. "And what do you know about friendships? I don't see you with any of your friends."
"That's where you're wrong, Granger. You have no friends by force, I simply chose to be alone."
Hermione pretended to think aloud. "Oh—so that's why you're slowly going crazy."
"You're insufferable. No wonder why Cleo wants me to supervise you, you're a child."
Hermione pointed at the bandages on her body. "I'm injured. I don't need you to supervise me, and quite frankly, I would rather you leave."
"I saved your life and this is how I get repaid? No wonder heroes become villains so easily."
"You? A hero?" She pointed at him with a questioning look on her face. "I don't believe you have any good in your heart. Calling yourself a hero spits at the name of the people that died doing good."
"Don't put words in my mouth. Heroes don't have to be martyrs—you seem to be a living proof of that."
Hermione stayed silent for a few seconds, unsure how to respond to his backhanded compliment. "You think I'm a hero?" She laughed. "Am I talking to the real Draco Malfoy or am I hallucinating?"
"I don't think you're a hero—god, that would be pathetic, don't you think? More like a failed hero," he lightly laughed, "it was always Potter, Granger, and Weasley this, Potter, Granger and Weasley that. People waited for you to save the day, and yet here we are. Potter and Weasley are dead. The Dark Lord won."
"Trust me, if I could turn back time I would risk my life to save theirs. But look around, knowing what life is like, it would be selfish of me to want them to live in a world like this."
Draco stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue, but when he noticed that she didn't he shook his head. A ghost of a smirk on his lips. "And yet you save me. Very classy of you to force me to stay in this world."
"It's a world that caters to you, Malfoy. I'm not so sure where the problem is? Is being a Death Eater not what you expected?" She mockingly said.
"Depends," he said flatly.
Hermione rolled her eyes and began to slowly get out of the bed. Her pants and long-sleeved shirt held burn marks and cuts —telling a quiet story within themselves. "Are there any bandages?"
"Those are the only ones we have. You'll have to get used to those."
"I'll go clean them. It's not a good idea to have an infection on all of these cuts."
"Can't you just use magic?"
Hermione shook her head. "I wouldn't want to try that."
"And why not?"
"Don't tell me you don't know." Hermione was met with a blank look. "Well, it looks like the Dark Lord doesn't share his plans with all of his low life Death Eaters, now does he? Just like when we were back at Hogwarts and you followed around all the Seventh Year Slytherins, doing whatever they said like a dog looking for scraps," Hermione picked up speed as she spat out her words, "he broke the cardinal rule of magic. Everything is now under his control. No one can cast magic on food or water without it backfiring. And I'm not particularly keen on learning what else is under his control. But certainly harming people who try to heal themselves or others seems right up his alley."
She internally congratulated herself once she noticed that his hands were clenched tightly, knuckles white.
With that, Hermione limped towards the bathroom. The room was very cramped and it barely fit the shower and toilet. She stepped over the toilet to stand in front of the smudged and dirty mirror. Slowly, she unwound her bandages. All over her body she saw burns, cuts, and bruises. The blood all seemed to blend together—she couldn't quite tell how many cuts she had. She looked at the scars crisscrossing her body. Tentatively, she touched her burns, but she couldn't feel any pain. Her nerves had been damaged beyond repair.
The diagnostics had already told her that the burns existed on her body but seeing the burns with her eyes made it tangible.
She turned on the tap and waited for the water to come out. After a few minutes of waiting, the brown water, filled with specs of dirt and plastic, began to spill out. It came out irregularly, pausing and unpausing multiple times.
Hermione cringed at the water. She rummaged through her jeans to pull out the whiskey bottle before drinking the last few drops. She walked back to the main room and took a small cup from the rickety table. Draco sat on the chair, deeply engrossed with the paper he was reading.
She took a piece of paper from the table and returned to the bathroom. She placed the piece of paper over the cup and tried to filter the water. Take the paper. Cover the cup. Empty the cup into another cup. Repeat.
She repeated the steps until she couldn't see any distinguishable dirt or plastic. The water still looked a bit polluted, but it was the best she could do.
Hermione began her slow process of cleaning the burns. She unwrapped the cloth covering her burns and dabbed the water on them.
She hadn't realized that she was pressing onto her burns harder than supposed to; she expected to feel some sort of pain even though the back of her head told her otherwise. She continued to press onto her burns, harder and harder, almost hoping to feel some sort of pain.
But she felt nothing.
Hermione had no choice but to use the dirty cloth to wrap around herself again.
She stared at herself closely in the mirror. Unsure if the person staring back was actually her. She continuously blinked as she waited for her appearance to change.
She waited until her curly hair replaced her now wavy hair. She waited until the bags under her eyes cleared up. She waited until her bones didn't show. She waited until the callouses on her hands disappeared. She waited until the colour reappeared in her face.
But the girl staring back at her didn't change.
" I'm fine, mum," Draco said, his voice muffled.
Hermione furrowed her brows, and she pressed her ears against the door. She could vaguely hear his mom's voice accompanied by rushed talking.
She placed the whiskey bottle back into her pocket before she slowly opened the door to prevent it from creaking.
" I'll be fine, it's not like I'm alone anyways ," he said.
She saw the white-whispy form of a fox sitting in front of Draco, who looked agitated at the patronus.
"We can't have him any more mad—your father is trying his best," the patronus began to flicker, " I'll talk to you soon. I love you, Draco."
" Love you too ."
The patronus ran off. Draco sighed and threw the pencil at the door, narrowly missing Hermione's body.
"It's not very nice to eavesdrop, Granger."
Hermione awkwardly walked out of the bathroom and sheepishly sat down on the bed. "Uh, sorry." She played with her fingers; his eyes boring into the top of her head.
"You're all the same," he muttered under his breath.
"At least you still have parents to talk to," she muttered back, "plus, you weren't even having a conversation, all patronuses can do is send one sided messages."
"For a witch who thinks she's so smart, it's funny that you seem to think that the patronus charm is the only way to communicate with others."
"What do you—"
The door of the hotel room creaked open, both of their heads shooting up to see Cleo.
"We're going to need a better security plan—I didn't even need a key to open the door," Cleo said as she closed the door.
"Duly noted," he replied, "did you find anything?"
Cleo shook her head. "No jobs, but the food seems to be a bit cheaper than in Boreas. Still pricey but it's something. Anything that costs a few knuts is all gone now—we'd have to wait if we want cheaper food."
"Where exactly are we?" Hermione asked.
Cleo shrugged her shoulders. "An hour or two away from Boreas. A lot of people moved here—"
"And that's why we can't stay here for long," Draco handed Cleo the newspaper, "they're going to start kicking out the people who aren't originally from here."
Cleo sat down next to Hermione, allowing both of them to read at the same time.
City Law 901:
After the mass exodus of residents from Boreas to Kione, Kione will check the status of every citizen residing in the city. Proof of citizenship must be shown to the Death Eaters on command.
Any counterfeit documentation will end with a possible execution or the enforcement of Law 02.
To the people of Boreas: leave before the Death Eaters check your status. Status checks will begin at sunrise.
"What do we do now?" Cleo asked.
Hermione put the newspaper down —the corners of the newspaper crumpled from her grasp . "We leave."
"I agree with Grang—"
Hermione coughed pointedly, "Sorry, something stuck in my throat. What was that, Malfoy?"
He scowled at her. "We have to leave soon. Are there any places that we can go to?"
Hermione looked at him incredulously. "We? Why are you coming along? Aren't you a Death Eater?"
"If it wasn't for me, you and Cleo wouldn't be here—for all I know you would be on the floor still."
"If it wasn't for me, you would be dead!" Hermione argued.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Do you really—"
"Enough!" Cleo intervened. She rubbed her temples before sighing. "We can't be fighting. Here I'll make the plan. Malfoy can stay." Hermione went to argue, but Cleo quickly cut Hermione off. "He is right that without him we wouldn't be here," Cleo turned to Draco, "but you're on thin ice. One slip up and you're gone."
Draco stiffly nodded his head.
Cleo turned her attention back to Hermione. "Do you have a plan?"
"I can try to apparate us to one of the cities I visited before," Hermione stated after a moment of thought.
Cleo smiled and clasped her hands together. "Great, we have a plan. We can leave at dawn, before then we should get some supplies. Malfoy, do you have any money?"
Draco reached into his pockets, Hermione expected him to pull out bags of galleons, but he merely held out a few galleons, sickles, and knuts. "We shouldn't use all of these now."
Cleo looked giddy at the amount of money he had. "The sickles should do just fine, better than fine really."
Draco handed Cleo a few sickles. "Hurry up and get the food, we don't want to waste any time."
"I'll go with Cleo," Hermione quickly said, "I'll be fine—the burns don't—"
"I could care less if you go with her or not. Just come back quickly," he drawled.
Hermione put on her burnt jacket, before she and Cleo rushed out of the room. Hermione took out her wand and placed a locking spell on the door.
They quickly walked down the stairs of the hotel, the paint on the stairs chipped away, exposing the rusted metal.
"I can apparate us to the market now. Stay close to me, we don't want to lose each other in the crowds," Cleo said.
Cleo grabbed Hermione's forearm once they reached the outside of the hotel and began to apparate them to the market.
Kione was crammed with people. Hermione could barely see the buildings. Groups of people sat against the walls, asleep. Flies and vultures flew around the city as they encircled the mass group of people there.
Cleo tugged on Hermione's jacket to pull her in the correct direction. "Don't get distracted."
The open market had fruits and meat out in the open; most, if not all, seemed to be rotting away. Cans of preservatives and MREs tied to the cashier's foot.
"Don't get the MREs," Hermione whispered, "we won't have clean hot water to cook them in."
"They'd taste disgusting anyways." Hermione didn't respond to her. "It's a joke, Jean."
"I know it's a joke!"
"When you hear jokes you're supposed to laugh."
Hermione grabbed a loaf of bread. "It's not the time."
Cleo shrugged her shoulders and began to hunt for non-perishable food. By the time they had scavenged the whole place for food, they had only managed a handful of goods.
They both took their items to the cashier and paid. Hermione shrunk the bag and placed it in her coat pocket. "Let's go before Malfoy gets mad."
Cleo grabbed onto Hermione's hand and apparated them both outside the hotel. They quickly ran up the stairs and back to the hotel room.
Draco stood in the room impatiently waiting for Hermione and Cleo to come back.
He had packed all of their belongings—his belongings—multiple times. He paced around the rooms as he looked for anything he could steal.
The hotel room had almost nothing useful, he stole three blankets, three sets of sheets, and one small bar of soap. But it didn't matter; the supplies wouldn't protect them from the cold or dirt that they would encounter living outside.
He became agitated as he waited for the two to arrive. The ticking of the clock only induced his anger.
He grew sick at the thought of working with the two, but he needed to use them for the moment. Just for a small moment before he would inevitably have to betray them. It would be best for him to stay alive in a group before he runs away.
Could it really be betrayal if they were never acquaintances?
He packed and unpacked everything again and again. He would take the blankets out of his bag before folding them and placing it in the bag again. Over and over.
He couldn't count how many times he had unpacked and packed before Hermione and Cleo came back.
Hermione and Cleo walked through the door.
"Okay, we can leave now," Hermione said.
Draco took the two bags into his left hand. His guitar strapped to his back. "Then we should hurry."
Hermione looked at the both of them. "Can't we apparate now?"
"God, have you never been to the hotel?" Draco opened the door. "You can't apparate in and out of the hotels. Security measures."
"Not all of us can afford luxuries," Hermione replied under her breath.
She could see Draco growing more agitated with her.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "It doesn't matter. Let's go."
The three dashed down the stairs and to the road. Hermione quickly took both of their arms and tried to visualize the cities that she had visited before.
All of the cities began to blur into one another, the same images popping into her mind. She could see her childhood home, Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place —the cities. Hermione focused on one particular image of a city that she could see the clearest.
She could feel the float-like sensation as she began to apparate all three of them away. The tingling sensation around her cells told her that she was moving to the correct place.
All three of them landed on the outskirts of the city. Metal pieces littered the floor. Hermione's hand tightened on both of their arms before she let them go. "Let's go," Hermione said.
The three began their descent to the city. They couldn't see parts of the city, fog covered the buildings, and the grey seemed to blend together.
The flowers around the road had dried out—the colours drained.
"Did you even apparate us anywhere?" Draco said. "It looks exactly the same as Boreas, and Kione, for that matter."
Hermione looked at the city she had apparated to. "Yes, this is a different city, we're in Phyrus. Every city looks like this—I don't know what you want me to tell you."
Draco stared at the people on the road—who stared at him in disgust and anger. "Where do we stay? Is there a hotel somewhere close?"
"There should be," Hermione said. She could see people trying to approach Draco. "Come on, we can't stay out here for too long." Hermione tugged the both of them away from the Desperates walking towards them.
They passed the pub, people filled the cramped pub. Same in every city. The windows slightly dented and fenced, facing the people passing to only see glimpses of the pub.
"Do you think I can get a job at the pub?" Cleo asked. The joke fell flat and Hermione could see the sadness in her eyes.
Hermione cracked a small smile. "Yeah."
They arrived at the hotel—which was much smaller than the previous once. Hermione and Cleo went to open the door, but Draco kept his feet placed in front of the building.
"This is a hotel?" Draco asked.
Hermione nodded.
Draco scoffed. "Seems more like a motel."
"Would you rather stay in the forest?"
Draco raised his brow. "What forest would I even stay at?"
Hermione looked up at him in confusion—trying to figure out if he was joking or not. She couldn't decipher any of the emotions his face held. "You're joking, right?" She desperately began to search around her brain for any memories of the forest that she once stayed at but she couldn't see anything clearly. She quickly glimpsed at her surroundings, but it seemed like the buildings had already covered where the forest once was.
He shook his head. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."
His answer only left her more confused with what he said because she had stayed in the forest or was it the other city? But it couldn't have been the other city if —
"Come on," Cleo said. Hermione snapped out of her thoughts, the forest that she could once depict began to fade; when she blinked again the green turned to grey.
The three walked into the motel. Hermione's stomach twisted as she thought that the three of them were going to the motel. Three people. A trio.
It was supposed to be Harry, Ron, and her. Not Draco, Cleo, and her. It messed with her thoughts as she tried to understand why she was always twisted and entangled in the number three.
Harry, Ron, Hermione.
Harry, Ron, Hermione.
Harry, Ron, Hermione.
Their names kept echoing in her brain. That was the only trio that she thought she would be a part of but now it seems like she would be forced into another group of three. No—it shouldn't be a group of three—it was supposed to be a duo. Hermione and Cleo. Three is a doomed number, always one left out, and it seemed like Hermione was predestined to be the one left out. She never liked odd numbers.
Rust covered the metal pipes. The linoleum tiles cracked under the weight of her footsteps —cigarette butts and ashes covered the floor . The cheap floral prints held a yellow hue as it began to peel off of the wall.
"You want a room? " The motel-keeper asked.
Draco nodded his head.
"How many?"
"Two rooms."
The motel-keeper grinned and said, "That will be one galleon a night."
"One galleon?" The three asked.
"One galleon—take it or leave it."
Draco grumbled and placed two galleons on the table. The motel-keeper took the galleons and handed them the keys.
"This is one key."
The motel-keeper pointed to the hallways. "Tough luck. The room will be on your left."
Draco handed the key to Hermione.
"This is the exact same price as the hotel we just stayed at—complete and utter rubbish," he muttered.
Hermione placed the key into the keyhole and began twisting but the door didn't give in. She began to twist the key even harder.
Draco watched in amusement. "Having trouble unlocking a door?"
Hermione ignored his comment as she began pressing her weight against the door. When that didn't work, she began to kick the door.
Cleo took the key out of the keyhole then placed it back into the keyhole. "Maybe we both have to push on the door." Cleo and Hermione began to push on the door, and slowly but surely the door began to creak open.
Piles and piles of books and furniture crowded the door. Hermione pointed her wand at the pile before she moved them to the corner of the room. Two beds were situated on either side of the room with the table and chairs in between. At first glance, none of the beds, table, and chairs were broken.
"How does this even happen?" Cleo asked.
Hermione's lips tightened as she peered through the room, trying to figure out how the people before them left; but other than the furniture she moved, the hotel room was completely normal. "Security measures. I'm not sure how they got out."
They all took a seat at the table. The chairs almost gave into their weight. The dim lights continued to flicker around them.
After a few minutes of silence, Hermione spoke. "We're going to have to find jobs and try to figure out what we're going to do in the long run."
Draco shrugged his shoulders.
"We can't live off of your limited money," Hermione annoyedly said, "how long are you going to stay with us?"
"Not sure—I have to figure some things out before I leave." His eyes focused on the Malfoy signet on his left index finger.
"And I'll hope that is soon," Hermione muttered.