It was the sunday a few days after Hermione's birthday, and the Flint family were all relaxing in their respective rooms. No one knew who the perpetrator was, or what prompted them to seek revenge in such a way. Yes, there had been raids on every house belonging to a member of the order, and Bellatrix did burn down the weasley's hovel last year, but the Flints assumed that the ancient wards put on their family home would keep them safe.
There was a violent crash, and Hermione swore loudly, spilling her wine. She threw open her window and saw smoke billowing from the lower floors. Yells and more explosive noises mounted in volume as the witch hurriedly picked up her owl and allowed him to fly out of the window for safety. Her vision turned to pins as she dashed around her room, stuffing valuable items into her pockets and shakily uncorking and swallowing the fire protection potion. The window exploded, spewing fragments of glass everywhere, ripping her bedsheets. Flames licked around her door as she grabbed her purple bag and wand, and lunged through the door. Hermione screamed for her parents until her throat went hoarse, stumbling down the smoke obscured hall, and shaking her robes to get the fire off them. Portraits of Flint ancestors were running through each other's frames in a frenzy, shouting advice at the family before escaping to their portraits in buildings that weren't burning down. Her mother appeared with hysterical eyes and they dashed through the hall, choking. Anna blasted open the back door and Hermione heard her Father roaring in fury. They stumbled into the garden, where Marcus was holding his nimbus 2001 to his chest and fruitlessly casting aguamenti, as Callidus chased away masked figures, shooting curse after curse after them.
The most horrendous noise tore from the stables.
"NO!" Hermione yelled and tried to run towards them but her brother held her back. She watched in horror as Raven beat her flaming wings and took flight, completely covered by flames, writhing in abject agony. Hermione shrieked as her Hippogriff did, tears streaming down her face. The poor creature soared higher before spasming and falling to the ground with a sickening thud, smoke rising out of her. Hermione thrashed against her brother's arms sprinted towards her Hippogriff's charred corpse, deaf to her own agonised wails. It was unrecognisable, dreadfully deformed. She sobbed on her knees before it until her mother pulled her away.
Turning in a dreamlike state, she beheld their house entirely ablaze. The thick black smoke put out the stars. She cried into her mother's shoulder, tears falling thick and fast as Marcus sniffled behind her and her Father enveloped them all in his smoke stenched arms. They stood in shock as everything they had- and everything that they were- was eaten by flames. Centuries of history erased, the four of them was all that remained.
After some time, Callidus apparated to the ministry to report the incident, and get a search started for the rebels who committed the crime. Hermione, Anna, and Marcus apparated to Malfoy Manor for refuge. Narcissa came to greet them, shocked by their dishevelled appearance and aghast when she was told what happened. When Marcus and Anna had been escorted to their old rooms, Hermione broke down completely in the entrance hall. She was barefoot, covered in charcoal and ash, and reeked of smoke. Her robes were tattered and burnt. Everytime her eyes closed, she could see Raven burning in the sky.
Narcissa rushed towards her, soft hands pulling her into a warm embrace. Hermione cried silently into Narcissa's silk gown, trembling hands clutching the fabric as the woman stroked soothing circles on her back, whispering platitudes. She ended up on Narcissa's lap, her hair being stroked as she attempted to stem the flow of her tears.
"You're bleeding."
Hermione raised her head to see that there was a scarlet patch blooming from beneath her ruined dress. She hadn't even noticed. Narcissa summoned a yellow bottle of dittany essence from upstairs, and moved Hermione into a sitting position on the flagstones. Narcissa peeled back the charred fabric to reveal the cut, and siphoned off soot with her wand.
"Don't move. This will sting."
One hand closed tightly around Hermione's lower thigh, and the other dropped the liquid precisely onto the cut. Hermione bit her lip in pain and squirmed- but Narcissa held her with a vice like grip until it subsided. Looking through the dissipating smoke, Hermione saw that her leg was healed, but there were red indents where the witch's fingertips had been. Narcissa's slender hand dropped lower, but stayed on her skin.
"All better," she muttered, banishing the remaining streaks of blood, and stroking her thumb across where the injury had been.
"Thank you," breathed Hermione, embarrassed at the inappropriate butterflies in her stomach. How on earth could her silly crush subvert the trauma she had just experienced. To make things worse, Narcissa looked straight into her eyes and wiped away the streaks of tears with her fingertips.
"Let's get you cleaned up, you poor thing." They stood from the floor, Hermione breathing normally now, allowing herself to be led to an upstairs bathroom.
Hermione emptied her pockets and put the contents by the sink. She had salvaged all the potions from Severus, the knife her father gave her, and the Weasley's joke shop items that were still in her purple bag. Then, with faintly shaking hands, she peeled the singed dress from her skin and banished it before it could dirty the floor. The bathroom was luxurious, but Hermione wasn't in the right mindset to appreciate it, so she washed herself quickly and thoroughly until the smell of smoke had vanished. Opening the door wrapped only in a towel, Hermione almost regretted banishing her dress instead of trying to repair it.
"Um, do you have a-"
Narcissa had already picked out a nightgown for her to wear, and held it out kindly.
It was slightly too long but made of comfortingly soft material, which enveloped the younger witch in the scent of Narcissa's perfume.
"I won't pry tonight," the Malfoy spoke when Hermione re-emerged, as if continuing a line of thought aloud. "I can see that it's still going round inside your head, isn't it? But if you ever need to… vent, or anything, I'm here. And you and your family can stay here for as long as you need to."
Hermione was sick and tired of crying, but that didn't stop tears pricking her eyes at the unnecessarily compassionate words.
"Thank you, but you've already done so much, I don't think I can ever repay you."
"Oh darling," Narcissa soaked up her tears with an embroidered handkerchief. "You don't have to repay me. Your company alone will make things less… well, more pleasant. Honestly, I was about to invite you back. Under different circumstances I'd be delighted that you're here."
The younger woman's stomach did a back flip, so she excused herself.
It was difficult to sleep in the same room she had for the ball. So much had changed since then. Hermione tried not to list all of the things she had lost in the fire, and drifted off eventually;
In the heat of an incredibly sunny day, Hermione opened the stables to take raven out. Mid-flight the hippogriff caught fire and turned her head to attack her owner. Feathers singed and fell off, one by one, until the frantic beast was reduced to a black skeleton. Hermione took her hands off it and saw that her balms were blistered. The skeleton crumbled into dust, leaving her to fall to death, with her echoes of her parents screaming all around her, and footsteps hurrying closer.
Hermione woke up with a jolt to hear herself screaming. As soon as she realised, she stopped. Her throat felt scratchy and dry.
"It's ok darling, it was just a nightmare."
Narcissa was beside her in bed, apparently relieved that she had woken. Mindlessly, Hermione moved towards the warmth, prompting the other witch to sigh.
"You frightened me."
They hugged as Narcissa smoothed back the hair stuck to her forehead in a cold sweat. Hermione was too tired to even be embarrassed at how childish it was to be afraid of nightmares.
"Will you stay?" She mumbled into the silk Victorian nightgown before her.
"...Alright."
Narcissa pulled the covers over herself and slunk her arms around Hermione's waist, her breath rustling the hair on the top of Hermione's head as their bodies intertwined.