Chapter 34: Ghost in the Machine

Like on the cusp of waking, Dagmar felt stuck. Images stirred around in her vision like a white line lost to black paint. Shapes formed rooms, objects, and occasionally faces. Voices were muffled, as if Dagmar listened to them through water. Was this death? Had Dagmar not cut cleanly from the world?

Emotions sometimes found her too. She'd become aware enough of her own fatality to feel disappointed, sad, and everything in between that she had let Draco down. Dagmar didn't want to leave him like that. It wasn't fair. Had he really been looking when it happened? He really saw her die?

If Dagmar fought for consciousness hard enough, sometimes it was possible. It didn't feel certain, like Dagmar's sense of time. At some point, a rush rippled through her. Dagmar woke in a spin, looking at herself from the outside. After that, she heard her own voice more clearly. She felt her mouth moving. She felt her brain working. She felt her heart pumping. She was alive. . .in some sense.

Dagmar struggled toward it now that she knew what she was aiming for. She wanted to see through her own eyes again. Once she got that far, it was like a veil lifted from where it had once obscured her vision.

She sat at a table with a piece of parchment in front of her and a quill in her right hand. The room was quiet around her, lit by a couple torches. Dagmar twiddled the quill awkwardly between her fingers. She had control of her limbs and everything, but she had no idea what she'd just been doing. Whatever she'd been writing, Dagmar couldn't read it. She didn't remember seeing anything like these symbols when she'd taken Ancient Runes.

There were more like them on her arms. Dagmar rubbed her hand over one. It was stuck, as if placed underneath her skin.

Dagmar looked around. She was in a library that kept scrolls rather than books. A clock on the wall said it was just past six. Everything outside the closed door was quiet.

Footsteps sounded then, as if they were coming down a flight of stairs. Dagmar stilled, listening. Her heart picked up as the footsteps reached the bottom and then passed by outside. Dagmar rose from her seat and crept over to the door. She placed her ear close. Whoever it was had ended up in a kitchen, judging by the muted sound of pans clanking together.

Dagmar opened the door as carefully as she could to avoid making any noise. She poked her head out into the empty hallway. Light came from the right, and shadows played on the wall. There was a fireplace down that way, as well as torches lit in the kitchen. Dagmar didn't bother to close the door behind her. She kept her step light.

She stopped when she reached the mouth of the keeping room, frozen. In front of the fireplace laid a gigantic snake. It was Nagini. So what had happened, then? She was with the Death Eaters somewhere? Had Bellatrix taken her body when they left? If Dagmar survived, that meant Voldemort must have too. But how?

"Oh!"

Dagmar jumped. Whoever was in the kitchen had started at the sight of her when they turned around. Dagmar felt immediately relieved to see Narcissa.

Narcissa held a hand against her chest. "I didn't hear you coming, my Lord."

"Where are we?"

"Erm. . ." Narcissa furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure. I haven't looked at your map."

Two puzzling responses was too much for Dagmar to brush aside. She blinked at Narcissa, who was pretty blasé about Dagmar being up and about.

"What happened?" Dagmar asked. "Where's Draco? Is he here?"

Narcissa stared at Dagmar, her lips parted. Dagmar's stomach sunk as Narcissa's eyes welled and she brought a hand up to her mouth.

Before Dagmar could get an answer, she faded back into a place of sleep. Voices became muffled again and faces swam like fish in turbulent water. Dagmar fought against it. She was still here. The dead didn't dream. It had felt far too real to talk to Narcissa for it to have been an illusion.

Dagmar climbed her way to the surface again, as if she'd been adrift in a lake. She was laying down this time. The house was quiet and the room was dark. Dagmar listened for anything making a sound while her eyes adjusted. She was in the library again, curled up on the couch under a warm blanket. She had to pee.

She sat up. Déjà vu touched Dagmar. She shook it off and headed for the door. The hallway was equally quiet. Only a little bit of light came from the keeping room as the fire had gone low. Dagmar had passed by a bathroom the last time she got up. It too was dark. Although Dagmar didn't have a wand on her and had no idea where hers had gotten to, she felt like magic flowed freely through her without it. Sure enough, a wave of her hand was just as effective as a wand to light the torches in the bathroom.

Dagmar's nose wrinkled as she sat on the toilet. It was a strange thing to notice, but her pubic hair had grown out. She'd groomed it like usual the last day she remembered being at home. She knew she had. When Dagmar and Draco starting angling toward a shag when they'd woken up that morning, Dagmar had warned him against putting his face down there. She hadn't bothered dealing with it while she studied all week for exams. Draco didn't care enough to wait until Dagmar had hopped in the shower, but Dagmar still took the time to tidy things up when she'd washed afterward.

Just how much time had passed? It had to be at least a few weeks for everything to have come back in. Dagmar looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyebrows were natural again as well. She'd plucked and trimmed those back into shape that morning too.

Was there something else wrong besides Dagmar's memory? She barely remembered anything about the people she'd talked to or what she'd said to them. Even if Dagmar had issues with recollection, she wouldn't have let the finer parts of her personal hygiene go like this. She didn't stink and her hair was clean. Dagmar had done that much for herself.

While Dagmar stared at herself in the mirror, trying to jog something, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Dagmar froze. She wasn't alone in the bathroom. Her gaze bore into the shower curtain in the mirror. Dagmar waited for it to move, to show someone was hiding behind it.

They felt too close for that. Dagmar gripped the edge of the counter, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Did the mirror lie? Dagmar could sense someone hovering over her shoulder. She should feel breath against her neck and weight against her back. Her eyes widened as an invisible shawl blanketed her over. Whatever it was touched her. The hair on Dagmar's arms stood next.

Dagmar started to go numb. She couldn't feel her hands anymore, nor could she make them release. Her feet were planted firmly against the floor. Dagmar's heart started to slow. Her breath returned to a more normal rhythm. As she stared at herself, the expression of terror on her face turned passive. Her mouth closed. Her shoulders relaxed. Dagmar's alarm to watch her eyes go from blue to scarlet made no outward manifestation. Instead, Dagmar felt her face be pulled up into the small smile she was looking at.

"Are you still with me?" her mouth whispered to her. She stared hard into her own eyes with lack of choice to look away. "I can feel you."

Shock delayed Dagmar's intent to respond. When she tried, she didn't have enough control to move her lips and form any words. With little other choice, Dagmar said it inside her head. Yes.

We can communicate this way, can we? Dagmar's reflection didn't show any sign she'd actually said that aloud, but Dagmar heard it as clearly as if it was spoken directly into her ear. Whoever it was spoke the way Dagmar's mind worked with language, dipping back and forth between English and Norwegian depending on which language better expressed her thoughts. Interesting. How long have you been awake?

Who are you?

Dagmar's reflection smiled again. The eyes were cold. You know exactly who I am.

Dagmar could certainly hazard a solid guess. What is this? You're using my body?

I have been for a little while now.

How long is a while? What day is it?

Dagmar's gaze darted about by its own accord as Voldemort was thinking. The twenty-second of January.

If Dagmar had control of her own heart, she figured it would've started racing again with new panic. It's been that long? What happened? I thought Potter killed us.

He sure gave it his best attempt. Voldemort scoffed aloud. We still have more yet to do, though.

Like what?

Let's go back to bed. Dagmar didn't have much of a say in the matter when Voldemort walked them out of the bathroom. We can talk about it there. You're not tired?

No. I want to know what's going on.

For what it's worth, I never intended for this to happen. Neither did your mother.

What does my mum have to do with this?

Everything. This was her idea in the first place. I'll admit, I gambled the possibility I might wind up in your body by holding her feet to the fire. Everything was going just fine until Potter showed up at your place. Bella has a difficult time thinking ahead too. She should've just let us hide while you and Draco were being grilled. So you two got a little cozy with Dumbledore and Potter, huh? Interesting, you never mentioned that while I was in your home.

Draco and I did what we had to after everything happened with our parents, Dagmar replied, hoping that Voldemort wouldn't be close enough to her mind to know her thought process. It was difficult enough to lie to him when he could look her in the eyes. You never asked about either of them.

I wasn't really concerned. Voldemort closed the library door behind them and headed back to the couch. Perhaps now you can appreciate that I owed you only a slim degree of latitude. You've been keeping a fragment of my soul safe since you were an infant. I had concerns that should Dumbledore realize, he'd do away with you for the sake of destroying part of me.

And when were you going to tell me that?

At some point before Bella and I left your home. We wouldn't want you to do anything silly like set up a trap for me next time I came by, would we?

Dagmar grew uncomfortable. That had been the half-baked plan she and Draco came up with. Or, it was at least what they expected to plan with Dumbledore once they had their home to themselves again.

It doesn't matter now, Voldemort continued as he sought a comfortable position on the couch. This is our current situation. The Ministry announced my death. They're all scrambling because Scrimgeour is dead. All of the Death Eaters that were in Azkaban have been extricated. In another week or so, we'll have arrived in the Greek Isles.

The Greek Isles? Dagmar grew confused. Are we on a boat or something?

Now that Dagmar felt for it, there was a slight rock to the place.

Something like that, Voldemort replied. A hafgufa. Too bad you didn't wake up a few hours earlier. We just cleared the Strait of Gibraltar.

A hafgufa? Dagmar repeated. She would've grunted in annoyance if she had control over her body. That must have been what Potter was actually chasing when trying to find Fantomøy.

You don't remember it?

How would I ever forget something like that if I'd seen one?

You have a good memory, Voldemort said. You remembered this place the night we chatted at Malfoy Manor.

That house?

Yes. You were born here.

I figured that much. Dagmar paused, for other than through Potter she had no way of knowing that through external means. I was remembering something in those nightmares I used to have, right? The house seemed so big. I was small. There was no record of where I was born when I went looking. I figured I was born at home. Here, I guess.

I was present when you were born, so I can confirm that.

Dagmar's attempt to pull a face didn't manage to have any effect on her facial muscles. You were?

Mhm.

Dagmar hesitated. She really didn't want to ask, but now she needed to know. Are you my father?

No.

Okay. Dagmar paused again. It's just sort of weird. You've been in my body all this time? You've been in control of it since the beginning of December? So you've seen me naked then. And had to deal with my periods.

A couple. The latest one ended yesterday. Good riddance. Although he made light of it, Voldemort didn't outwardly laugh as the two of them laid there with Dagmar's eyes closed. If it's any consolation, I've done my best to respect your body. I've kept it clean, ate well, all that. The only other person that's seen below your neck at all is Narcissa, when she helped me put these runes on. I just ignored it whenever you became sexually aroused.

Dagmar cringed. Thanks, I guess.

Mhm.

The weight of his presence receded as Voldemort slipped back toward sleep. Once he reached a certain point, Dagmar's blinks became her own again. She rolled onto her other side to face the back of the couch. She didn't have a clue what Voldemort had used her body for while she struggled for consciousness. Even if he'd acted in consideration of her, it was still unnerving.

Maybe it just hadn't sunk in quite yet, but Dagmar didn't feel very surprised about this. In the back of her mind, she'd always known something was off about her. In a way, it relieved Dagmar to put a name to it. It wasn't her. There wasn't anything wrong with her soul specifically.

Her body, though. . .Dagmar grew nervous. If she was sharing a space with Voldemort and he had the majority of control, then Dagmar had no choice but to ride along with whatever he was doing. What were they even going to the Greek Isles for? He'd mentioned releasing everyone from Azkaban. Did that mean Dagmar's mum was here? Dagmar had no idea what to even say to her when their paths crossed, or if she wanted to say anything at all. What did Draco think about all this? Dagmar couldn't imagine being in his position, watching her walk and talk but knowing it wasn't actually her.

Dagmar hesitated to fall asleep since she didn't know when she would wake up again. It was light out when Dagmar was next conscious. She was in a dining room and there was a full table before her. It was dinner time.

Voldemort was chatting with Bellatrix and Rodolphus, so his attention was mostly on them. Dagmar only got to see the rest of the table whenever Voldemort glanced around at them. Dagmar barely recognized her mum now that she'd cut her hair short. She was even thinner than when Dagmar had visited her in Azkaban. She sat beside Narcissa, who Dagmar was relieved to see.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus' conversation turned inward to each other. Voldemort was content to focus quietly on his food. Are you awake?

Ja.

I felt you coming.

Dagmar didn't really know what else to say. She felt like a marionette doing whatever the master said.

Do you want to talk to your mother after dinner? Voldemort asked her.

Mum and I aren't exactly on good terms.

Surely you must realize now that everything she ever did was in your best interest.

Your best interest, Dagmar corrected him.

Our best interest. Voldemort sounded amused. I was always going to be all right. It's you who was in danger.

Thanks to you. Thanks to my mum.

Thanks to those who would kill a child just to get to me.

Dagmar didn't respond. That was such a flimsy argument, and she would get nowhere by pointing that out. Nobody would have ever cared about Voldemort if he hadn't made a name for himself first. That will to see him gone was in reaction to something, not just a bunch of people going out of their way to inconvenience him.

Voldemort gazed at Dagmar's mum until she looked over. Her face lengthened. Dagmar could already tell that she was going to be forced to talk to her after dinner.

Sure enough, her mum followed Voldemort into the kitchen when he took his plate to the sink. Voldemort jerked his head toward the library. In there, she folded her arms when Voldemort closed the door behind him. To Dagmar's horror, the door knob became tactile in her own hand. Voldemort wasn't even going to segue or give Dagmar a chance to say no.

"What is it?" Dagmar's mum asked. "Is she back?"

Dagmar didn't respond, and she didn't even want to look at her mum. She'd seen in the bathroom mirror how her eye colour fluctuated with whoever was currently in charge of her body. To raise her gaze would give her away.

"It's you, isn't it?" Dagmar's mum's tone softened further.

"Where's Draco?" Dagmar realized then while thinking about who she'd rather speak to that she'd never seen him at the dinner table.

"I don't know exactly, jenta mi." Her mum's voice was barely more than a whisper. "He's not here."

Dagmar eyes welled, whether or not Draco being spared this spectacle was for the best. Really, it probably wouldn't even matter if Draco was here. Dagmar wasn't alone in her body anymore, so she could never truly speak privately to someone. She didn't know if she could handle Draco rejecting her or avoiding her because he couldn't see her the same way anymore.

"You don't know at all?" Dagmar asked. "Is he okay? Did he get hurt?"

"No," her mum replied right away. "Erm. . .everyone thinks you're dead. It was in the papers."

Dagmar put a few steps worth of space between them. She wiped her eyes, trying to cut the tears off before they had a chance to touch her cheeks. It was a pretty futile practice. Trying to hold them back only made her nose more stuffed. She sniffled every other time she inhaled.

"How did this happen?" Dagmar's tone was a lot harder than she currently felt. "Why did you do this? Nothing about you makes sense, Mum. Voldemort said you were the one that put him in here when I was really young. What was even the point of letting me have a life when it was just going to wind up like this? I worked so hard in school to get on as a Healer, and now I won't get to finish the program. Draco and I were engaged. We had a timeline for getting married and having kids. We made a home together. Now we've got nothing. I've got nothing. My entire life was a waste."

"It wasn't." Her mum sniffled. "You can still get it back. There's just something we need to do first."

Dagmar scoffed. "I don't trust anything you say. You're a liar. Maybe Dad bought it all, but I don't. You really did let him die for you, didn't you? It should be you dealing with this, not me. If I had a choice, I'd be a million miles away from you. I'd never speak to you again. You already made my life hard, but I have to say you've truly outdone yourself this time."

"I know," Dagmar's mum said. "I know I have. I'll make it right, and I don't expect anything from you in return for that. You don't have to like me or love me or anything like that. I just need you to not get in the way."

"Of what?"

"Bjorn is still alive." Her voice trembled. "We need to find him. It was him I was supposed to put Voldemort into, not you."

Dagmar scoffed. "You really are the shittiest mother alive, aren't you?"

"I tried my best." A ripple went through Dagmar's mum's disposition. "I'm still trying my best. I can give you your life back, then you don't have to have anything to do with me anymore. I won't hold it against you."

"Bloody right you won't. Fuck you." Dagmar couldn't get far enough away from her mum for her skin to stop crawling. "I wish you managed when you tried to kill yourself in Azkaban. It probably would've been the kindest thing you could ever do for me."

"No, it's not." Her mum was shaking bad enough for her voice to. "I've made mistakes. I know, jenta mi. But I can still fix them."

"By swapping out one of your children for the other to be doomed." Dagmar sneered. "I guess the bright side is that you never had a chance to get attached to him. So what does he matter, right? It's not like he might have family and friends and all that. What'd you do anyway, forget him somewhere in the Greek Isles?"

Her mum shook her head. "He might be in the Balkans. Magnus took him from me when he left. He tried to take you too."

"I wish he did."

"No you don't. It wouldn't have fixed anything about your situation. It would've just left you ill-prepared, because Magnus had no idea what he was dealing with."

"Herregud, Mum. Just shut up."

"No." Something about that, maybe Dagmar rolling her eyes, snapped her mum out of the little well of self-pity she'd fallen into. "I won't. Like it or not, you're my daughter. I'm your mother. You can act as pissy as you want, this is the situation and it's not changing until it gets fixed. I'm sorry, Dagmar. I'm truly sorry for what's happened to you, and I accept full responsibility. Your dad and I were trying to fix this for years. He bought us some time, but it ran out anyway."

"Don't you dare talk about Dad. It's your fault he's dead."

"I know," her mum snapped. "You don't need to remind me."

"I'll remind you as often as I want. And he wasn't even my real dad, so what does that say about you?"

"He was your real dad."

"Not by birth."

"Does that matter?"

"It does for the point I'm trying to make." Dagmar's throat tightened as the pain of missing her dad squeezed it. "Why didn't you jump in the way instead?"

"Aside from the fact that I was a little preoccupied, you need me." Her mum came around the end of the table to the side Dagmar had moved to. "I'm the only one that can remove Voldemort's soul from you when the time comes."

"You'll be lucky I don't kill you as soon as you do."

Her mum rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."

"You want to try me on that?"

Her mum scoffed.

Dagmar doubted she could or would follow through, but she was too pissed to say anything either way to her mum. She spoke into her mind instead: I'm done with this. You can take lead again.

Why? Voldemort sounded like he hid a laugh. You two have plenty to discuss.

We're not going to. I'm done.

Dagmar waited for him to take back over, but she was still the one in control of her body. There was nowhere in the library to get away from her mum, so Dagmar headed for the exit. She assumed that Voldemort would just stop her as soon as she did something he didn't like, so Dagmar saw no harm in trying to find that line.

She headed first for the kitchen to find Narcissa. She wasn't part of the dinner cleanup crew. Some people Dagmar had never seen before looked back at her. One said something about 'my Lord' before Dagmar headed back down the hallway. Her mum had come out of the library. Dagmar brushed by.

"What're you doing?" Her mum asked as Dagmar started up the stairs.

"Looking for Narcissa," Dagmar stiffly replied in Norwegian.

Fourth door on the right, Voldemort was the one to tell her instead.

Dagmar stalled briefly when she reached the top landing. Turning to face the other end invoked the worst wash of déjà vu. It looked different now, but this was definitely the house Dagmar used to have nightmares about. To be inside of it in such a scenario was far worse than anything night once brought her.

She rapped her knuckles against the middle door on the right-hand side. Dagmar glanced back toward the top of the stairs. She hoped her mum wasn't following her, although she didn't hear her coming. Footsteps sounded behind the closed door first. Narcissa opened it.

"It's me," Dagmar said so that Narcissa's careful study of her didn't have to go any longer than necessary. "Can we talk?"

"Of course." Narcissa opened the door wider for her. "Come in."

Dagmar passed her by, although had no idea what to say now that she was here. What even was there to say, especially when Voldemort could hear everything? Dagmar, Draco, and Narcissa couldn't even speak openly when they were all together in Bergen. It was futile.

Narcissa clicked the door shut. "How are you?"

Dagmar shook her head, vision blurring anew. "I just don't get it. I mean—I do, but I don't understand. How could she do this to me? And she won't even. . ."

But Dagmar couldn't say what her mum hadn't done. She'd admitted that all of this was her fault. She was doing what she could to make it right, or so she said, anyway. That was all fine and good, but Dagmar had to wonder what waited for her on the other side of all this. She couldn't stomach that when all the pieces had fallen, she ended up here.

"I know," Narcissa said as she approached Dagmar. "It must be so alarming to wake up in the middle of all this."

Dagmar slumped against Narcissa when brought into a hug. This entire thing made Dagmar feel like a child. She had no idea what was happening, her environment confused her, and she was absolutely powerless. The one person in the world that she should be able to rely on to protect her was the one that put her here in the first place.

Narcissa stroked Dagmar's hair as Dagmar sobbed against her shoulder. Dagmar's hands started to feel numb as she clutched on, worrying her that Voldemort was taking back over. It was just the severity of her grip. Although Dagmar didn't have a mind for much beyond seeking and receiving comfort, she sensed Voldemort backing off. It was some sort of weight off Dagmar's shoulders to actually be alone with Narcissa. She was the closest thing Dagmar had to a mother here for the purpose she needed one.

As Dagmar calmed down, her head stayed heavy. Her lips had dried out, as well as her eyes. She sniffled constantly, but couldn't clear her congestion. Eventually, Dagmar felt strong enough to stand herself up. Narcissa still held onto her shoulders.

"Sorry." Dagmar sniffled. "I didn't mean to come in here like this. I don't have anybody else."

"You can talk to me as much as you need to." Narcissa tried to smile, but it only made her eyes look more watery. "I'm just glad you can. Nobody knew for sure that you were still alive."

"I almost wish I wasn't." Dagmar wiped her face again. "I don't want to be dead, but herregud. What am I supposed to do with this? There's nothing I can do."

Narcissa guided Dagmar over to the bed and sat her down on the edge of it. "What did your mum tell you?"

Dagmar shrugged. "Something about finding my brother. They really think he's alive? What happens if he's not? Do I just get stuck?"

"I wish I had answers for you," Narcissa replied. "I think this is new ground for everyone."

"I don't want Draco to see me like this." Dagmar's emotions swelled enough for her lungs to draw heavy on the next breath. "He really thinks I'm dead?"

Dagmar felt bad to ask after Narcissa's face crumpled a little. She held it all back with difficulty before nodding. "That's what I've heard."

"Is he okay, at least?"

"I don't know." Hesitation made Dagmar nervous as Narcissa regarded her. "He spent a few weeks in Azkaban, but he's out now. I'm not sure where he went from there."

Dagmar's heart ached. "Why did he go to Azkaban?"

"With Bella and the Dark Lord at your house, no one really knew what was going on," Narcissa said. "It doesn't help that only Potter and Shacklebolt walked away, as far as the Aurors were concerned."

"What about Professor Parasca?" Dagmar asked, to which Narcissa furrowed her brow. "The woman that was with Potter and Kingsley."

"Oh. Bella said she killed her."

"Her poor son." Dagmar's emotions didn't even have anywhere else to go as bad news piled on top of bad news. "He's a friend of Draco's and mine."

"I'm sorry." Narcissa sighed and rubbed her eyes. "You probably realize this by now, but you've missed a lot. The last couple months have been mental. I don't really know that the future is going to be any less turbulent. We're heading to the Greek Isles now."

It hadn't sunk in yet for Dagmar that she wasn't actually an only child. She didn't even know if it was worth feeling excited or relieved that Bjorn actually survived. If they found him, it wasn't like Dagmar would have a chance to get to know him before his life would be taken away. Dagmar just felt guilty. Maybe she wasn't the driving force behind that, but she still had much to gain.

"Nobody knows anything for certain about Bjorn, is the thing," Narcissa replied. "That Magnus fellow took him. When you and Bella talked to him in Paris, he said some things that led the Dark Lord to believe he might be in the Balkans. Some Death Eaters went ahead of us to track down archmages, or something. One of them might have been who cleared Magnus' memory. They might know where Bjorn is, if he's still alive."

"And then what?" Dagmar didn't really remember what her mum had said. She was too mad, and she didn't trust a single word that came out of her mouth anyway.

"When your mum came onto the island, she did a test to see if you were still here." Narcissa pulled her leg up onto the bed so that she could better face Dagmar. "She basically pulled your soul out of your body, along with the Dark Lord's. She can't remove the Dark Lord's completely without his permission. He'll give that once we've found Bjorn."

"If he's alive," Dagmar glumly repeated. "I don't even know if I want him to be found. I wouldn't wish this on anybody. And even if it's not my choice, who knows how long this could take? Ja, maybe I'll have my body back. But. . .what about anything else? I've already lost out on my Healer program. If Draco thinks I died at the cottage, he won't want to live there anymore. What if he's moved on by then?"

Narcissa rubbed Dagmar's back as a fresh wave of grief came up over her. Dagmar had never imagined there was a way for her to not have Draco when they loved each other like they did. She didn't want Draco to hurt, but she didn't want him to find someone else before she had a chance to come home. Would Draco even want Dagmar anymore after this? Would he be able to look at Dagmar and see her, not Voldemort?

That was a stupid question. Of course he would. He already had, in a way. Who knew how having Voldemort's soul inside of her changed who Dagmar was on a fundamental level? Draco had fallen in love with that person. He'd accepted that Dagmar did some questionable things—things that Dagmar attributed to that dark little corner of her soul. Should it really change things, now Dagmar knew who was hiding there? Or would she change into somebody Draco didn't recognize once Voldemort was removed?

"I wish I could promise you something or tell you everything will work out," Narcissa said. "We're all flying pretty blind. I do feel like I understand things a lot better after talking to your mum and the Dark Lord. I know you're upset with your mum. You have absolutely every right to be. You need to trust her, though. All right?"

"How can I do that when all she's ever done is lie to me?"

"I thought the same thing." Narcissa moved up closer so that she could put an arm around Dagmar. "I wanted answers when she got here. She obliged. She showed me everything that led us to this point. Maybe she's made a lot of mistakes, but the magic is solid. She knows what she's doing. If we can just find Bjorn, everything will be okay."

Dagmar wanted to trust Narcissa, especially since she seemed to believe what she was saying. She didn't mean this as a platitude. And yet. . . "What if she lied to you?"

Narcissa shook her head. "You know the truth when you see it. I saw it."

"I'm so scared," Dagmar replied. "Even if things all work out like she wants them to, what kind of things am I going to have to see? What kinds of things am I going to have to do? Even if it's Voldemort doing them, he's doing them with my body."

"The thing I've found with this place is that you sort of just have to live in the moment to keep yourself sane," Narcissa said with a mirthless chuckle. "There's not much to do right now other than catch up on sleep. We have a week yet until we reach the Greek Isles, and then the Dark Lord will have the Carrows fetch the Death Eaters that came ahead of us for a meeting. We'll find out then what the next move might be."

"I've been asleep for almost two months." Dagmar slumped. "I just want to go home."

"I know. Me too."

Dagmar sighed inwardly as she started to feel Voldemort's presence again. He still kept some distance. To Dagmar, it just felt like he quietly sat in a corner of the room. She felt like she would see him if she looked behind her.

"I guess I get it," Dagmar said. "I don't know what to do about my mum, though. I don't know how we'll ever be okay again. She seems to accept that. Mad as I am, I wish that still didn't manage to hurt."

"She's leaving it up to you, I think. She's made so many mistakes when it comes to you. It's come so far now that it doesn't really matter anymore it was supposed to be for your protection. She doesn't have a leg to stand on as far as justifying goes. She can't expect you to just accept it. As you start to learn things, you might understand more. You might empathize. You might even be able to forgive her. As for what that means in the future, that's all up to you."

"Ja."

Dagmar leaned more heavily against Narcissa. Terrified and uncertain as she was, she at least had someone to talk to. It didn't matter that Narcissa couldn't do anything to help Dagmar's situation. To be comforted was enough for now.

Voldemort's voice crept up inside Dagmar's head. Are you about done? I have things I'd like to do.

Dagmar sighed aloud. "Voldemort wants to get back to whatever it is he does."

"All right," Narcissa replied as Voldemort scoffed inside Dagmar's head. "Come here, then. One more hug to tide you over."

Dagmar squeezed her back as tightly as she could. Since Voldemort wasn't taking over by his own volition, Dagmar wasn't sure if she should just leave.

Once she did, she became a passenger again.

Feel better? Voldemort asked. You seem calmer.

Meh.