Chapter Four: Breathe
Ten days after the war
"Hello, Miss Granger, Athena Davies. It's truly a pleasure." The auror was a witch Hermione hadn't met before, and she held out an elegant hand, grasping Hermione's in a firm shake before leading them into the room. She continued speaking as she moved towards the large desk before the back wall, gesturing to the empty seats in front of it as she did. "After hearing of everything you've done for us… Well, I'm honored to meet you. I also know this will likely be difficult for you, Miss Granger, so if we need to pause at any time, please just let me know."
Athena's strawberry blond hair was pulled back into a soft braid, glowing golden in the sunlight streaming through the window behind her, and her wide green eyes were staring at Hermione earnestly from her soft, pretty, freckled face. She seemed kind, genuine. She had the kind of grace that made others in her presence comfortable almost immediately.
That was likely the reason they had chosen her for this.
Kingsley stood leaning against the pale green wall behind where the auror sat at his desk, allowing her to conduct the questioning while he remained silent.
It wasn't an interrogation, they had said, and had assured her they just needed any information they could give her about what she had seen in the Manor while she was there.
They were struggling to round up the lesser known supporters or those who had gotten away, and wanted to be sure they were pursuing every avenue to bring his followers to justice.
Kingsley had done everything he could to make her comfortable for this, even going so far as to conduct the interview in the Minister's office rather than one of the dedicated interrogation offices floors below.
Athena had sat in Kingsley's chair, while Hermione, Harry, and Ron, sat in the plush, conjured seats on the opposite side of the white marble desk. She waited until Hermione was seated comfortably, and had nodded in understanding before shuffling a sheath of papers before her until she found the item she was looking for.
"Ah, yes, here we are… So it says here you were… taken, late October of last year?"
"Yes, that's correct. Harry, Ron, and I were looking for Voldemort's horcruxes," the auror still winced at his name, "and I had been found. Harry and Ron were still safe, and my family was… threatened–"
"And it was Mr. Malfoy who threatened your family, yes?"
Hermione blinked, "Well, yes…" The auror wrote something down on the parchment in front of her.
"But he thought he had to, to protect his own family."
"His own family, who were supporting He-Who-Must-Be-Named and assisting with the murder of muggles and muggleborns?" Athena looked up at her, and Hermione saw a flash of the fierce, inflexible will that she had recognized in the other aurors she knew, shine through the demure facade.
Maybe she wasn't so genuine after all.
Hermione could feel the low, simmering heat of her anger begin to flare up within her.
"His father was. His mother… he was hurting her. Lucius. Draco was trying to protect his mother. And his mother was trying to protect him. They had realized that Voldemort was wrong long before I got there, but they were trying to survive."
The auror stared at her for a moment before setting down her quill. When she began speaking, it was in a gentle, cautious voice. The kind people used when they were approaching wild animals or someone disturbed. "Miss Granger, I don't mean to upset you but… there is a phenomenon where prisoners fall in love with their captors, I believe the muggles call it-"
Hermione cut her off, the anger rising quickly like a tidal wave, "It's called Stockholm Syndrome, I know what it is, and this isn't that."
"Miss Granger…"
"No," Hermione's voice was growing louder and she could see Ron wince in her peripheral vision, "He saved countless people, he risked everything to help us, to help me. I will not sit here while you try and twist that into something even darker and more twisted than it already was, when the only reason I didn't waste away or die in that manor was because of him."
The auror was still looking at Hermione with pity in the deep green of her eyes. Pity, and condescension.
"Draco has made bad choices in the past, no one is denying that, but the first real opportunity he had to prove himself to Voldemort, he couldn't do it because he's not a murderer, because he realized how wrong it was. The night he didn't kill Dumbledore, he asked his mom to leave, he told her they were on the wrong side-"
"It's possible he was ly-"
"I saw it in his head, in his memories, by accident. He didn't even tell me, and he didn't want me to see it. It's true. When I was in the manor, all I did was tell him what he already knew, that he could do the right thing. He made the right choices on his own, knowing what it might cost him, knowing if he was found to be lying to Voldemort to protect me, he would die."
Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably, and a glance towards Harry showed her he was rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. She snapped.
"If you're not going to believe what I tell you then I see no point in continuing this meeting any further."
She stood, shoving the chair back slightly so the abrasive sound of it scraping across the wooden floorboards echoed through the room, causing Harry and Ron to wince involuntarily.
"Miss Granger…."
Hermione began to walk towards the door, fully prepared to leave to make her point. She had suffered. Draco had suffered. Everyone in this room had suffered because of this fucking war, and still, they thought that holding onto their pre-conceived ideals was more important than the truth.
"Miss Granger, please, wait."
Hermione paused.
"I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to offend."
She turned to stare at the auror, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly as she did. Athena's expression was careful, measured.
"Please sit," the witch gestured to the empty seat before the desk, askew from being pushed back so forcefully by Hermione.
"I will not sit here and listen to you tell me I don't know my own mind or experiences," Hermione warned, refusing to budge until the witch nodded reluctantly in acknowledgement.
Hermione moved slowly back to the chair, perching herself on the edge and refusing to move it back to its original position, sandwiched between Harry and Ron. She wanted to have an easy exit if necessary.
"Please, continue, Miss Granger."
Hermione took a breath, hesitating only a moment as she stared at Athena, ensuring that the witch seemed at least semi-sincere, before she began speaking again.
"You have to understand - after he couldn't kill Dumbledore, he asked his mother to leave. And she wanted to. But Draco had already been marked by Voldemort. They would be found anywhere they tried to run. If they tried to run, if they tried to openly defy him, they would have been killed. Draco may not have had the same beliefs about muggleborns as he does now, but he didn't think they deserved to die. He wasn't perfect, but still he knew it was wrong and wanted to get out. When I came along… he had only taken me because he was trying to help his mother. Trying to prevent his father from being punished, so that his mother wouldn't be hurt again."
Hermione settled into her seat a bit further, as they allowed her to continue without interruption. She outlined most of what happened at the manor, save for her intimate moments with Draco, and Athena took down notes without any further interference. She said nothing further until Hermione reached the party in her recount of what she experienced. Athena only paused her to pull out a teetering pile of images for her to look through. Wanted posters, photographs, names - Hermione looked through it all, confirming anyone she could that she remembered seeing during her time at the manor. Harry and Ron both spoke up at this point as well, confirming anyone they'd seen at the final battle, or piping up with additional information they'd picked up on Voldemort's followers.
The morning sun had risen high in the sky by the time they finished, casting long shadows across the office anywhere the bright rays were unable to hit.
"I think we can call it there, for the day."
Kingsley, who had stayed still and silent as a statue throughout the questioning, finally spoke up, his deep voice reverberating throughout the room.
Athena glanced at him, nodding when she saw no room for argument in his stern gaze.
"Yes, we've gotten quite a bit to go off of. We'll contact you when we need anything further, Miss Granger."
Hermione nodded, rising from her seat and stretching her stiff muscles. She waited for Harry and Ron to rise beside her, then turned, not bothering to say goodbye to either Kingsley or Athena as she walked out and moved purposefully towards the lifts.
She needed to get out of here.
She felt as though she were moments from exploding, as though every moment from the past year was clawing its way up her throat and begging to burst forth in the most damaging way possible.
She just needed to get out of here.
She rode the lift in silence with Harry and Ron, barely aware of their soft conversation beside her as she waited anxiously for the gates to open so she could finally flee. She felt like her lungs were constricting, squeezing tighter and tighter until her breath was coming in shallow, tiny breaths.
Finally, the lift came to a stop, the gates opening with what felt like agonizing slowness.
Ron said something to her about needing to speak with his father, and she could do nothing but wave in acknowledgement as she plowed out of the lift, hurrying faster and faster until she was nearly sprinting to the visitor's exit.
She could have left by floo. Could have gone straight to Andromeda's.
But the thought of stepping into that fireplace, spinning through the floo network… just the idea made her want to vomit.
She just needed to get outside.
If she could just make it into the fresh air and take a gasping lungful, she would be okay.
The walls felt as though they were closing in, inching closer and closer. She barely made it to the lift, stumbling slightly as she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for it to take her into the blissfully open streets of London.
Breathe.
Almost there.
Just breathe.
As soon as the lift stopped, she threw open the door of the tiny phone booth and stepped out onto the pavement. She could have cried as she took her first breath, grateful for the breeze that lighted upon her flushed skin, leaving trails of soothing cold wherever it touched.
She made it halfway down the street and around a corner into an unassuming alleyway before she allowed herself to collapse, sinking against the wall and using its firm support to guide her to the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly as she fought to get herself under control.
She just couldn't catch her breath.
She tried, gasping shallowly as she fought to keep the air in her lungs long enough to fill them.
She hated this.
She hated feeling weak.
She was the person others leaned on, the person her best friends turned to for strength and unwavering certainty.
And now… now she was a pathetic, disheveled mess, curling in on herself as she hyperventilated on the ground of a dirty alleyway.
"Are you okay?"
She snapped her head up.
A familiar frame was leaning against the stone wall of the alley, brunette brows knitted together over a pair of deep, emerald eyes.
He moved forward towards her, pausing when her already erratic breathing hitched and faltered.
He knelt instead, bringing himself to her eye level.
"What happened?" His warm, husky voice was almost gentle, and his eyes shone with genuine concern as he took in her rumpled state.
"I…" She tried to speak but was still breathless, fighting against the anxiety that still threatened to consume her.
He grasped her hand firmly, dragging her attention back to him.
"Take a deep breath."
She forced herself to do as he asked, keeping her eyes trained on his as she took a deep breath.
"Again. Count to four, and then breathe out."
Inhale.
One, two, three, four…
Exhale.
One, two, three, four…
"Again."
Each breath brought her further back to herself. Each expansion and contraction of her lungs had her calming down, just a little more.
She noticed his hand was warm around her own. It was sturdy. Comforting.
"Once more."
She closed her eyes as she took one final, deep breath, and felt his hand leave hers as she exhaled the breath in a final whoosh.
"Better?"
She opened her eyes to find him leaning back on his heels, a faint smile playing at the edges of his full lips.
"Much," she breathed.
He nodded, standing and offering her his hand once more so he could pull her to her feet.
"What happened?" He asked again, tilting his head curiously as he did.
"They wanted my statements about what I experienced... Over the past year." She couldn't bring herself to say the Manor, already trying to shove those emotions and memories back into a neat little box that she could take out and process at a more appropriate time. She cleared her throat slightly. "What about you? What are you doing here?"
The slight smile faded as he shrugged nonchalantly. "Same. They have questions. Want to know if I'm planning on going on any murderous rampages anytime soon, probably."
Hermione snorted.
"Anyway, I better get in there. I was already running late. I hadn't been planning on rescuing any stray animals today."
He flashed her an amused grin as he turned back in the direction of the visitors' entrance, though not quickly enough to miss the rude gesture that Hermione sent his way.
His amused chuckle bounced off the walls of the alleyway as he called back over his shoulder, "I think what you're looking for is 'Thank you,' Granger."
"Thank you, Theo." She grumbled under her breath.
"You're welcome!" He shot back.
She felt the corner of her mouth pull up slightly at the response, and waited until he had been dropped out of sight before taking one final deep breath and spinning on the spot, finally ready to head home.