The steady rhythm of knocking high-heels made her stir from her half-asleep state. Hermione was sitting on the hard chess board patterned linoleum for more than six hours by now, her head lolled back. She looked at the arriving person sleepily, her eyes meeting with glacial, blue eyes, simply questioning the raw fact of her presence.
Ah, Narcissa Malfoy née Black.
Even if she wanted to greet the woman, her vocal chords felt frozen in her throat. She merely nodded toward the worried mother and was back to her former activity, so trying to sleep at three in the morning. It took more than four hours to persuade McGonagall to let her go after Draco – he was dragged through the entire Hogwarts, humiliated and shown to every student as the Death Eater. The professors did nothing to help him or stop the Ministry monkeys.
He's been in the interrogation room for eight and a half hours by now. Only because he was related to Bellatrix Lestrage. The other Slytherins at lest were released without any hysterics from the head auror. And McGonagall had the gall to call that out as a promising ending!
She snorted.
They didn't even hear her out – didn't even want to hear her side of the story, or how Draco was the one who was fixing her up, both mentally and physically. They were only interested to get him to be blamed and got him what his father still didn't. She was sure by morning this would make a nice front page on the Prophet.
Her lips quivered, the tears welling up in her eyes. It was so fucking unfair. Those Ministry monkeys knew next to nothing.
She sighed audibly and looked back longingly at the big, oak door for at least the thousands time this day. If she was just to bang it down... there were some advantages of being a war heroine, so she was sure she'd be forgiven. Maybe she should get Kingsley.
She failed to notice the icy, prying glance of the woman due to exhaustion. She only realized the Malfoy matriarch was still, in fact, there, when she opened her mouth.
"Are you here for who exactly, Miss Granger? "
Hermione flinched back and abruptly snapped her head back from the door to the woman. Her vision was blurry as Narcissa's face was without contours and she needed to blink a few time to have a clear image of the older but undoubtedly beautiful witch. She was elegant, just in dark robes and standing above her as imposingly as possible. She looked calm, even though both of them knew how their nerves were on the verge of breaking.
"I think you have a suspect, Mrs. Malfoy," she answered flatly, her voice strained.
Something lighted up in Narcissa's eyes as she moved with grace to cross the aisle.
The next Hermione knew was that the beautiful witch was suddenly sitting beside her, on the floor, knees up high and hugging them tightly to her chest.
Her brown eyes were about to fall out of their sockets. It was something she'd not expected like, ever to happen. "I don't understand," she said the only thing that struck to her mind. Shouldn't this woman, maybe, hate her? For being rivals with her son, for being in different sides of a war or for staining her Persian carpets with her filthy blood back at her only visit at Malfoy Manor?
It was hard to gulp back the urge to retch. Her hell was in her own head as it seemed for a passing moment.
She forced her mind to concentrate on more cheerful things for the better outcome; things she treasured. The time with Harry and Ron, nights at the Gryffindor tower after Seamus had perfected the spell of making rum from water, the adventures and the thrill it caused within her – it always made her heart pound harder and her fingers twitch in anticipation. The moment when the Battle of Hogwarts had finally ended, the minute when she had the first tattoo, the feeling of freedom, her given name rolling off of Malfoy's tongue for the first time...
He called out for her: 'Hermione,' so desperate, so firm, but still, so lubberly too. However, he still was demanding, not even asking her to turn back, but right out commanding it. Thinking back, it came out really amusing – he, Draco Malfoy, calling for her and she stormed away and threw a whiskey bottle to kill some mermaids.
A dumb smile of relief slipped on her lips as she was looking down on her left forearm; it'd not require that much of time now, they'd solve their problems in a few months prior. He just needed to get away from the Ministry.
Perfectly manicured fingers swam in her vision and Narcissa pulled away her hair from the side of her cheek, revealing her tattoo, the one with the Serpent, Draco's constellation. Her other hand found her left forearm, elegant fingers circling it – the letters pulsating under her touch.
She didn't move, even if her face suggested she was disgusted. It must have been disturbing at best for such fine lady as Narcissa Malfoy.
Hermione was hardly able not to scowl.
"You've survived quite some horrors, Miss Granger," Narcissa said, ignoring Hermione's prejudice that radiated from her. She smiled at the Gryffindor, and then, she pointedly glanced at the side of her cheeks, her voice light; like she was talking to some kind, "Even if unintentionally, this must have meant something to you to have it sewn in your skin for a lifetime."
"It still does," she pressed on, with steady fire blazing in her brown eyes. "However, I don't see why you'd be concerned. The constellation fits the scar, and that's merely it."
Narcissa pulled up a perfectly shaped eyebrow: really?
Hermione confirmed with her hardened stare, the often so kind chocolate balls now were full of rebellion and determination. Really.
Mrs. Malfoy bristled at that, her fingers grabbing on the cloth of her shirt and rolling it up in a hasty movement, not even leaving her an option to escape. Her mouth was pressed in a thin line when seeing the barbaric art her sister had carved in her skin. It was a life-long scar and both knew it.
"This is why you need it," she concluded, her index finger just merely grazing the letters, and it still made Hermione flinch and grit her teeth. Her foot dabbed on the floor rhythmically to count the seconds and have her mind occupied with anything but the pain.
"Pardon?" she squeezed out with the departing air.
"The unicorn blood," she answered flippantly as if that was a daily topic that came up during brunches with her associates. Narcissa was always a good observant she spotted as Hermione's jaw tightened at even the mention of it. "You're brewing the Vindico Parea, don't you, child?"
"I'd prefer you call me miss, and not just a child. I brought down your psychopathic leader, you know," she replied and she received back a wolfish grin from the woman, obviously amused by her sharp tongue. "But yes, though I was not aware it was called the revenge of the fate."
Narcissa shook her head, smiling at the girl, "No, not as revenge. It's more like salvation by the Goddess of Fate. Draco should have told you more."
Hermione gulped, eyes wide as her words stuck to her brain, running in replay for a minute or so.
"He knows more than he lets on?" she asked with small voice, her lips trembling and the feeling of betrayal set loose in her chest. She trusted in him, she fucking tossed her life in his hands and still, he didn't tell her everything he knew?
Now, now, that'd be foolish to end me as I'm the only one who can help you before your freaking die.
She bit in her lower lip. Hard.
Don't worry your pretty, bushy head about those, I'll get them.
Could it be? Had he made the potion before? Bellatrix had the poison as a weapon; she was crazy thus she must have tested it on other Death Eaters! Not just on people like her! Malfoy must have had experience with the brewing. Even though it most probably had literally no effect on the Death Eaters.
He must be more familiar with it than she'd thought.
Allies for our lives or enemies for your death?
Her breathing quickened as tears welled in her eyes, her eyes became unfocused. She felt Narcissa's clutch tighten on her hand and as she whimpered quietly, unable to look at the blonde witch.
Her life was at stake and she was fucking betrayed.
Just before she could have panic, her soothing voice made her pay attention, trying to deter her thoughts back to their conversation, "I assume you've tried approaching the unicorns as by now, am I right, child?"
Hermione merely nodded, her gaze settled on the floor flicking between the white and black tiles of the floor. She felt desperate. "The dragon scales are already... here. The blood is the one missing... Don't call me child."
Narcissa seemed to debate over something for minutes, looking away from her, but holding her firmly, knowing well enough that, that was her only clinging point to reality. Even though the Malfoy matriarch's efforts, all the war heroine heard, during this time, was the frantic beating of her own heart.
"Estrella was murdered during the Battle of Hogwarts. It was my own sister who killed her. Maybe, her foals..." Suddenly realizing that the brunette was not the least listening, she warningly squeezed her hand one more time. "Her foals, I'm sure, they'd help you. Do you hear me, Miss Granger? The foals."
Hermione nodded with glassy eyes, repeating the name of her friend and the word of foals over and over, so it was properly and unforgettably in her mind.
Just before she could have answered properly, the big oak door was torn open and a clearly pissed auror rushed outside with hissing curses under his breath, leaving a calmly smirking Draco in the room.
Narcissa abruptly leapt on her feet to rush to her son, her son she'd not seen since her own trial, two weeks before he went back to Hogwarts.
And Hermione just sat there, forgotten.
Some things are uncovered. Have any interesting ideas? ;D (and sorry for nor updating yesterday, I just had half of it, and Fridays are my sport days - meaning I arrive home at six. Drag myself inside the house like a snail with artificial gastropods. Yeah, that serious.) Hope you enjoyed it!
And also, for the name of the potion: Vindico Parea - I was just using a Latin dictionary. But, Vindico really has those two meanings (rather contradictiory, if you ask me, which is amazing!) And Parea really does mean the Goddess of Fate. Or I hope and pray that the dictionary was not only for making me look like an idiot. Have a good weekend!