Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!
Yankee Accents
Chapter Seventeen: Houses by the Sea
Written By: Auburn Lily
The rest of that week passed by quite uneventfully, in which Hermione finished reading all of the books on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes that she owned. She found that she desperately needed more books to read on the subject matter, so that weekend she paid a visit to Diagon Alley.
Ginny, who rarely was able to see her friend anymore, accompanied Hermione on her shopping trip. They were currently making their way through the crowds of the main road.
"Ron was telling me Wednesday," Ginny was saying between sips of her coffee, "that mums condition's getting steadily worse."
"She seemed fine on Monday," Hermione replied, as she looked through the windows of a new quill store that she had never seen before.
"Of course they give her potions and things like that to side-step the more grotesque symptoms of what they think the problem may be. They don't even know what's the problem."
"That's really weird," Hermione commented. "You'd think they'd have come up with something by now. It almost seems to be like their being sabotaged."
"Mmhmm," Ginny mumbled meditatively. "I need to step in here," she said abruptly, referring to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
"I should probably get some new ones, too; soon mine aren't going to fit anymore." Hermione agreed as they stepped into the cool atmosphere of the little shop.
Ginny went off to inspect the racks and shelves, while Hermione sought out Madam Malkin.
"What can I get for you, dear?"
"I need something that'll fit my body in October, when I'll be at the peak of my pregnancy."
"If you'll just follow me to this rack, here," Madam Malkin was saying, but Hermione wasn't listening any longer.
"Pregnant, are we?" an Egyptian goddess purred, as she gracefully made her way to Hermione. She was flanked by her four girls, the youngest one clutching her hand. Draco didn't seem to be anywhere in sight.
Hermione, noticeably shrinking under Auset's abrasive glare, mentally cursed herself for not casting another Concealment Charm on her body.
"Yeah," Hermione smiled feebly. "Just a bit."
"When are you due?" Auset asked, arching an intrigued eyebrow.
"Mid-October," Hermione replied, as she held out her arms for a bunch of robes that Madam Malkin had collected for her. "Thanks," she mumbled.
"If you need fitting dear, don't hesitate to seek me out. Dressing rooms are just there." She pointed out a corner in the back of the shop, solely dedicated to small mirrors and tiny rooms shrouded in thick, heavy velour curtains.
"So, that would make your time of conception," Auset thought aloud, "January? Oh my goodness, it couldn't possibly be the product of your little rendezvous with my husband?"
"No!" Hermione replied firmly, finally regaining her bold footing.
"Oh, someone else then?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"How interesting," Auset replied. "Well, we must be going. Come along girls," she added sharply, and without further ado, they left the shop, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.
She hoped she had lied well enough.
"Hermione," Ginny said after they left Madam Malkin's. "Is there anything else you need to get? I told Ron we'd be at his house around six. It's five thirty now."
"I just need to get a few books at Flourish 'N Blotts for my classes."
"Kay. I'll be at the Leaky Cauldron. Meet me there when you're done."
"I shouldn't be long," Hermione replied, and she wasn't long. After she had finished at the bookstore, she found Ginny sitting at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, exactly where she said she'd be, sipping a huge fire whiskey.
"I'm so tired," Hermione breathed, as she sat down heavily on one of the hard chairs. She could see Tom's hunched form dragging itself over to her.
"Sinead said that we're welcome to stay the night. It's only Saturday. You don't have to be back at Hogwarts until Monday morning, right?"
"Yeah," Hermione replied, rubbing her sore feet. "I'll have a tea," she said to Tom, who nodded politely and sauntered away back to his bar.
"Which books did you get?" Ginny asked interestedly.
"Just a few on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and I got one for Jessa for her Geomancy classes. I always tell her she doesn't have enough." Hermione replied, taking them out of her bag. One of the books was the one that Zenden, one of Draco's daughters, had asked for, Analytically Realistic Runes. The others were just normal textbooks, or translation journals. "I also got an Arithmancy pad," she added, reaching into her bag and pulling out an old square of plastic that resembled a muggle calculator. "I'll need to send out a notice to my older students; they'll need to get one."
"When I took Arithmancy, I never had one of these. Had to do it all by hand."
"I find it better that way myself. It just simplifies everything using this method," Hermione was saying, as Tom brought her tea.
"Yeh can take that' un wit' ya, 'ermione," he said pointing to the mug.
"Thanks Tom," Hermione replied, packing all of her books back into the Flourish 'N Blotts bag. "Let's go, Gin."
They stood up, clutching their parcels to their chests, and Hermione pointed her wand at her mug, whispering "Concretus." Ginny followed suit, hardening her fire whiskey so it did not splash all over them in the fireplace, and then took Hermione's hand. She threw the glittering dust into the roaring fire of the Leaky Cauldron, stepped inside the grate, and yelled "7 Wilgus Cemetery Place" clearly.
After a few moments of jostled journey, they were spat out of a cold fireplace. Hermione stood up, followed by Ginny, and dusted herself off, surveying her surroundings.
The room that they were standing in was currently empty, and quite drafty. It was very dark, as there were no candles lit, and the room appeared to be in the middle of the house, as there were no windows. The dark, hardwood floor was covered with a faded gold rug, which was fraying at the ends. The candle brackets were devoid of candles, and the occupants of a few portraits that graced the walls were snoozing soundly, their chests rising and falling gently with intake of breath. The wallpaper was a crimson-burgundy, with what seemed to be patterns of dark acorns and pinecones grouped together. The furniture consisted of a few hutches, incredibly antique, which contained objects of obvious concern, and a few uncomfortable-looking sofas were scattered sporadically about the room. Atop dark rosewood tables sat cold oil lamps, and some padlocked trunks stood in a few corners.
"Ron and Sinead and their children live here?" Hermione asked, flicking disbelieving eyes to Ginny.
"They're never in this room. This is the only fireplace in the house attached to the floo network." Ginny explained. "Come on, Sinead'll have coffee waiting for us in the sitting room."
So, they commenced through an archaic-looking door, and Hermione found herself in a dimly lit corridor where a few more portraits hung. None of them appeared to be of Weasley ancestry.
Ginny walked towards another door, and Hermione came to discover that not all the house was as dank and cobwebby as the floo receiving room had been.
This room was obviously the kitchen, with light oak cabinets and counters lining the walls, and a huge oak table in the middle surrounded by chairs. The table was laden with spices, and a huge cutting board covered in vegetables.
"The sitting room's through this door," Ginny announced, pointing to another door at the other side of the kitchen, and they walked through it, revealing a cozy little room full of cats and people.
"Hello everyone," Ginny called, setting her bags near the door. Hermione followed suit, removing her jumper and shoes as well.
This room was easily the most comfortable-looking room that Hermione had seen of the house so far. The wallpaper was a pale rosy hue, and the furniture was all light and comfortable looking. Sinead sat in one of the couches near a coffee table, which was laden with a petite tea set, with baby Brina in her arms, smiling graciously at them as they came in. Her pregnancy was more visible than ever, as she was due in July.
Ron sat at a chess set in the corner with his daughter Allyn, obviously teaching her how to play. Fred and his girlfriend Georgia sat across from Sinead, sipping cups of tea, and Mr. Weasley was teaching the twins Siobhan and Aidan how to play Gobstones. Incessant argument could be heard, as the twins quarreled over whose stones were whose. Hermione made a mental note not to go into that particular corner of the room any time soon.
"Your house is simply gorgeous, Sinead," Hermione said as she sat down next to her on the couch.
"Let me see my little niece," Ginny said, holding out her arms for Brina.
"Thank you," Sinead replied, handing Brina over to Ginny, and filling two more precious porcelain teacups with boiling tea. "The house elf Cyri keeps it quite clean."
"Don't even start Hermione," Ron called from a corner, and Sinead cast a confused glance at the both of them.
"I led S.P.E.W. back in our school days," Hermione replied sheepishly.
"Spew?"
"Not spew, S.P.E.W.!" Hermione replied anxiously.
"What does it stand for?" Sinead asked curiously.
"Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."
"How interesting. Do you keep up with it?"
"Not any more. I don't really have the time to do it. Actually, I don't know when I found the time to do it then," Hermione replied thoughtfully.
"It was an incredibly obnoxious group," Ron said from the corner.
Hermione snorted. "That's rich, coming from you."
"What're you trying to say?"
"Simple: that you're obnoxious."
"Thanks Hermione," Ron replied, turning back to the game he was playing with Allyn.
"So, anyways, as I was saying, it was basically a way to win elves more rights in the wizarding world. It didn't win many supporters, though. I think the people who did sign up only did so I would stop with the campaign. It really was a rather good idea, I think, and it would've changed the world we live in today."
"Hermione," Fred said exasperatedly from the other side of Georgia. "Come on, can't we get through one party without you lecturing others on righteous crap?"
"It is not righteous crap, Fred," Hermione replied hotly. "It's incredibly important that we try and win rights for others."
"Hermione, would you like to see outside?" Sinead asked quickly, trying to avoid an argument.
"Sure," Hermione replied, taking the bait graciously. She did, however, send Fred and Ron angry, typical, Hermione-like glares on the way out the door.
"So, Hermione," Sinead said conversationally as they stepped out the kitchen door. "Have you thought about names for the babies yet?"
"No, not really," Hermione replied, taking in the scenery.
The house was apparently located on the coast somewhere, because a little ways off was a cliff. Hermione didn't know how steep it was, but she could see the Cimmerian-looking water, with iced waves and gray and black gulls flocking overhead. Hermione didn't know when, but the gorgeous day had turned cloudy and overcast, thunder rumbling in the distance. She could smell rain in the air, and her hair was already beginning to frizz at the ends from the intense humidity.
An old-looking wooden fence, that didn't seem to be able to do its job as well as some would've liked, guarded the cliff. There was a little gate in it, kept shut with a rusted lock, which seemed to lead down the cliff by way of stairs built into the cliffs wall. The yard was overgrown, much to Hermione's discontent, as she preferred everything in order, but she still had to admit that wherever it was that the house was located in was indeed charming.
"It's East Sussex, this is," Sinead said, as if reading Hermione's thoughts. Sinead led them over to sit at a bench that was latched down to the patio floor. "The house looks like a one-story rambler to Muggles, because the neighborhood we live in is a muggle one. You can obviously tell it's anything but that."
And Hermione looked up at the house at that, seeing that it was an old three-story, with redbrick and gray shutters. The roof was slanting, giving idea that there was an attic, and ivy had engulfed most of the back. Hermione could see at least three more chimney's sticking out sporadically from the gray roof.
"It's certainly charming," Hermione thought aloud, looking over the lawn once more. What appeared to be a gnome garden could be seen a little ways of.
"Thanks," Sinead replied.
"Have you thought of any names for your soon coming arrival?" Hermione asked.
"Well, its another boy," Sinead replied. "I do have a few in mind. I was thinking of letting Ron name this one, though. I named the last three."
"Could you give me any ideas for mine?"
"Sure," Sinead replied. "What is it you have, a boy and a girl?"
"Yeah."
"Let's see" Sinead pondered, tapping her lip with one of her fingers. "I don't like pairing twins names together. I think that's too cliché. Were you thinking of naming the babies after Harry, or his parents?"
"Actually, I was," Hermione replied. But Sinead didn't know the real reason why she wished to do this.
The fact of the matter was that Hermione did indeed love Harry, much the same as she loved Ron and Ginny, and as she was beginning to love Sinead and her children.
And Harry was probably the most important thing in her life at the moment; he was indeed protecting her from Draco's assumed wrath. And therefore, she thought that she should at least honor Harry by using his name, or his parent's names, for her children.
"Well, his mothers name was Lily, was it not? And his fathers name was James. I've always been fond of flower names, you know?"
"Eh," Hermione grunted. "As long as it isn't anything too frivolous, like Pansy or something of the sort," she replied, shuddering at her childhood rival.
"Oh, no, nothing like that. But I do like Dahlia and Iris."
"Iris sounds pretty," Hermione said. "But I don't know. I'd have to think about it much more carefully. What about boys names?"
"I dunno," Sinead replied. "You should ask Harry on that one."
But Hermione was thinking that the day she asked Harry to name one of Draco's children was the day she might as well cash it all in, and become a diviner or something of the sort.
"Well, thanks Sinead," Hermione said.
"Sure, sure anytime," she replied, waving a dismissive hand. More thunder could be heard rumbling overhead as she said this. "We should probably be going in; the gales down here can get pretty intense sometimes, and it looks like it's going to start any minute. I have to get the food on anyways."
"Who else is coming?" Hermione asked as they stood up and began walking back towards the kitchen door.
"Harry, but not till tomorrow morning, George and his wife and kids, Bill and some witch from Gringotts that he married a few years ago. They have I think three kids. Ron told me that you've never met his wife before. Percy and Penelope are coming for tea later on with their child, and Charlie is bringing a mystery girl, like he always does."
"Sounds like a big bunch o' people," Hermione replied, as they entered the house once more, leaving the festering storm out in the courtyard.
"Yea, so I've lots to cook. If you just let me put this food on, I'll give you a quick tour of the rest of the house."
"Do you need help with anything?"
No," Sinead replied, as she merely flicked her wand and everything around them set to work. The cutting board sliced up vegetables, the ladle in the soup pot began spinning in earnest, the spices floated around and tilted cayenne and pepper and ginger on something whenever they saw fit, the bread was being kneaded by invisible hands. "I don't think so."
"Okay," Hermione replied, and soon she was following Sinead out of the kitchen and back into the dark hallway Hermione had previously been in. It was longer than she had thought, and at the end an old looking staircase spiraled upward to the next landing.
"Our house was once owned by the dark wizard Grindelwald back in 1945, so that's why it's so dark. I inherited it from some distant relation (don't ask), and I couldn't pass up an offer for a free house, you know? I know it seems weird that he would station it right in the middle of some random muggle neighborhood, but believe me, he had his reasons for living here."
"Oh my goodness, how incredibly amazing," Hermione exclaimed. "You must have so many different things in this house."
"Yes, well, a lot of the things we think are here are in locked trunks, and I haven't gotten around to opening them up. Actually, I don't want to open them up. A few I think may contain boggarts. Anyways, I know you've seen this room," she said peeking her head in to the room Hermione and Ginny had flooed to earlier. Hermione heard a few angry yells, and when Sinead looked back at her she grimaced. "They can get really rowdy, and really rude sometimes."
They proceeded to the next room, which was a small dining room. "This is way too small for our family to eat in here, so we eat in another one across from the kitchen, but we think this may've been we're Grindelwald spent most of his time."
They proceeded through the hallway, poking their heads through doorframes; many of the rooms were small and dark.
"We haven't gotten the time to refurbish the entire house, what with all of our kids, so we just renovated the rooms that we use."
"Understandable," Hermione replied. The next room that was bright, and actually looked clean, was a small library.
"This is one of the two libraries in the house," Sinead was saying. "This one is much smaller than the other one, which is upstairs and takes up two of the levels. We haven't done anything with that one, yet, so it's still really dank and dark up there."
The next story was the most renovated of the floors.
"This is the floor we sleep on. The kids don't like the third floor, because it seems that there're a bunch of ghouls in the attic, and they're constantly fighting with each other, and making loads of noise. Plus, the ghosts up on the third floor never come done here. The twins and Brendan love the ghosts, but Allyn doesn't like them at all, and I don't think Brina is going to either.
"The third floor is for guests," Sinead was saying as they walked up another spiral staircase that creaked as pressure was placed on it. "Here, I'll show you the room you'll stay in. We have enough rooms for every family to have one. Yours'll be just here," Sinead pointed out a door down the hall way a bit. "Did Ginny tell you that you all could stay before you left?"
"No," Hermione replied.
"So you don't have any spare clothes? That's all right, the room has some. So now you know where it is; the bathroom is right about here, and there's two more down the hallway."
"Thanks, Sinead," Hermione replied.
"Well, I should go down and finish dinner," Sinead said, turning to leave. "The doors're all locked, but a simple 'alohomora' should do. You can look around, if you like. Ron's told me about your fascination with libraries and such. I'll be downstairs if you need anything."
"Are you sure you don't need any help with dinner?" Hermione asked, but Sinead had already descended the stairs, and disappeared from view.
Hermione turned her eyes back down the dark hall, which was lit by dripping candles. More portraits lined the walls, the occupants snoring loudly or wheezing softly. She walked down to the door that Sinead said was her room, and opened it up, to reveal more darkness, lit by an oil lamp, which sat on another rosewood table near the door. The room smelt of smoke and roses, and Hermione saw that her room had a window at the far end, curtained by thick, dark curtains.
The bed was a large four-poster, with the hangings shut, and at the end sat another padlocked trunk. A large armoire was shoved against one wall, topped with a vase of dried flowers. A desk was situated next to it, topped with another oil lamp, unlit, next to a stack of books. Next to the desk was a door.
Hermione sighed and after further perusal of the room, she walked back into the hall. She could hear the storm raging overhead, not sounding as if it were going to let up any time soon. The banging in the attic was reaching an incessant roar, and it sounded like someone, or something, was moaning up there, so before Hermione knew what it was she was doing, she was searching for a door or a set of stairs to get up into the attic.
She opened a few doors, one leading to a balcony of the library Sinead had told her of, and another revealing a room with a bunch of instruments in it. But finally, after ten more minutes of fruitless searching, she found a staircase that led up into darkness.
She ascended the stairwell cautiously, avoiding the cobwebs that seemed wont to cling to her curly head. The steps were creaking so much; Hermione feared that it might disturb the houses occupants so far below her.
The trip was fairly short, and after a whispered, alohomora, she gained entrance on the attic that was causing more racket than the storm was.
Immediately, something was hurled her way. She saw it smash to pieces next to the shut door, although the light in the room was incredibly dim. She whispered to her wand "lumos", and held it up before her, revealing the dirtiest attic she had ever been in, including one of the ones at Hogwarts.
Boxes upon boxes were piled everywhere. Hermione cringed to know what might be hidden in them. More spiders' webs clung to the rafters that threatened to hit Hermione's head, and just beyond the boxes she could make a bunch of furniture, covered with ghastly sheets.
She heard and felt something smash above her head.
Now, she knew that ghouls were fond of throwing things at people; and she did know, also, that they hated light. So, she whispered another spell, and the entire room was bathed in white, dazzling light, revealing six or seven ghouls in a corner, blinking stupidly at one another. Hermione then levitated a few boxes and placed them in front of the ghouls, uttering a simple binding spell so they couldn't be taken apart, and voila: the ghouls were trapped.
Hermione extinguished the lights, and turned to leave, but before she could, a cold voice's breath whispered against her neck. She started violently, and swung her arm around to hit the offending person, only finding that her arm swished through an icy sheet of nothingness.
"Now, why would you want to do that?" the familiar voice asked. "They were beginning to accept my staying up here with them."
Hermione turned, and saw someone's face she hadn't seen in forever it felt like.
Narcissa Malfoy.
The woman's face was shrouded in black contours of shadow. What the tip of Hermione's wand lit up was silver, and translucent. Her hair, once silvery-blonde, was a darker charcoal now and hung in her eyes. And Hermione could still see in Narcissa the face that she dared not think of at the moment; she could see the aristocratic chin, the high cheekbones, and the strong, proud forehead. She felt something stir inside of her; something she couldn't repress, and she felt the horrible longing to be wrapped in his arms again, to be taken by him again.
"Narcissa?" Hermione cried, snuffing down her earlier feelings of utter weakness and despair. "Oh my goodness. What on earth happened? I was never informed of your death."
"I know, I know," she replied wistfully. "My son always was the stubborn one. If you didn't wish to be contacted, than he wasn't going to contact you, no matter what it was that happened. "
Hermione snorted angrily, but did not want to ask Narcissa how it was she died.
"It was a few years ago," Narcissa said, answering Hermione's unasked question. "Draco doesn't even know the real reason for my death, actually. She lied to him."
"Who?"
"That wife of his, I never did like her," Narcissa continued, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "But that day, Draco had taken all of the girls out riding; oh how they did love to ride. He'd taken all of the girls out but Nabiyre, the youngest, and oh how she was the most precious. Auset was supposed to be out that day, shopping or whatever it was that she was doing. I dared not ask. But anyway, I was up in one of the baby's chambers of the mansion, already having put Nabiyre down for her nap, when she came in. I didn't hear her come in at all, for I was standing out in the balcony, and the next thing I knew, I heard her voice, and then that was it. I can presume that somehow she covered up the use of Avada Kedavra through some odd means that only she could achieve. I dare say she was a dark witch, now that I've had time to let the thoughts fester in my brain."
Hermione let the revelation roll over in her mind; she had an idea that Auset wasn't the purest of Egyptian witches that she ever met, but she didn't think that she would've killed Narcissa. She wondered what on earth it was that had possessed her; she wondered what her cause was for it.
"And Draco didn't do anything about it? He just gave you up for died at unnatural causes?"
"Oh no, child. Of course not. He did everything in his power to find something that might lead him closer to finding out what it was that killed me. I think he had an inkling of Auset, but she was supposed to be out shopping all day, you know. And I never did get to tell him about it, because Purgatory landed me here."
"Well, now that it has been found out, maybe I should be the one to put it out to public." Hermione replied smugly.
"Oh no, please don't Hermione," Narcissa begged, waving her arms in front of her, her silver eyes widening. "I can't bear the thought of that memory being open for him. Draco suffered so much at my death you've no idea. I was the only one left in the world who he thought loved him. You can't possibly let him know that you are aware of my death, or anything at all related to it. It would eat him up inside, once again, like it did so long ago."
"Oh, but don't you want your death revenged? I think it would be so much more important for her to be locked away somewhere, forever."
"No, then the children would be left without a mother, and I can't bear having to put another child, let alone four, through such a horrendous situation once again. I did it, quite against my own will mind you, too many times to Draco. And I can't bear having to do that to those children. I love them too much."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the ghost in front of her, the woman who would be forever trapped in this attic, with only the ghouls to occupy her. And they would eventually die.
"Please don't tell anyone, Hermione, please don't," the woman pleaded.
"Very well," Hermione replied slowly. She still couldn't understand Narcissa, the woman who was supposed to be the coldest, darkest wife of a Death Eater. "Why are you here, in the Weasley's attic?"
"Oh," she said, quickly abandoning her earlier distress. "Frankly, I didn't know from the start. I arrived at Purgatory, which is probably the biggest fortress, the place most devoid of feeling's that you may ever be, and I was questioned by this receptionist, poor dear, she's been locked in that horrible place for all of eternity, and will be for all eternity. I talked to her about some things; she was such a sweet heart. But anyway, as I was saying, the receptionist told me that I could either stay here in Purgatory, where I would fill out countless numbers of forms, so I could acquire an appointment to have my soul analyzed, or I could simply return to Earth as a ghost. She said I could never return to Purgatory, or ascend to Heaven or descend to Hell, but she told me that she only asks this question to a person who was still needed on Earth. So, I figured that since I was still needed here, I should go back, and this is exactly where they landed me. I didn't know why they sent me here; the Weasley's never come up here, bless their hearts, but now I do know why it is they sent me here."
Hermione, who had been leaning against the door to go back downstairs, stared at Narcissa in confusion.
"Why have you been?"
"To warn you, dear. I know that you are pregnant; it is quite obvious, what with your physical condition. But I also know that you've been lying to everyone. I know your baby's are Draco's. And I most warn you, dear," She repeated, "that you and your children are in grave danger. I don't know from what, or who, or when it will happen. I just need to warn you that if you don't keep an extra eye out for odd occurrences, then you'll fall, and I don't think you'll be able to get back up. I don't know what it is that you need to watch for, but I can feel it, this omnipotent force that is hovering over top you. So much like that storm that is hovering over top this very house."
Hermione stared at her, stock still, with shock, confusion, and worry all boiling in her irises. "What? How can you know this?" Hermione loved Narcissa with all of her heart, and she felt that given any circumstance, she would trust Narcissa with her life. But this was an incredibly odd circumstance, and she was having trouble believing her own ears.
"I don't know how it is that I know what I know, but I can feel it, and it's so important, you've no idea. You have to watch yourself."
At that moment, Hermione heard someone's voice traveling up the third floor staircase, yelling for her to come down. It was dinner.
"Narcissa, I must go, it's dinner. Why don't you come down?"
"Oh, no dear, I couldn't possibly. Now that I've done what I must, I'm free to leave this place, and do what it is I see fit. Besides, the Weasley's would be beyond shock if they knew that I had been up here all this time, without their knowledge."
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked curiously, feeling odd at leaving someone, even if they were a ghost. She felt odd at leaving the person who was so closely attached to Draco, the one who didn't seem to ever want to leave her thoughts.
But, the person who had been yelling before began again, and Hermione knew she must go, lest they find her here.
"I'm positively sure," Narcissa replied, with a forlorn smile. She pressed her cold lips to Hermione's forehead, and although the kiss should've sent shivers through Hermione's body, it sent waves of warmth to the ends of her fingers and toes. "And Hermione, Draco does love you, more than anything you could ever imagine. I can feel it." And with those last words, Narcissa floated away, going through boxes as she went, and before Hermione had known it, she had disappeared through the wall of the house.
Hermione clambered back down the stairs, and yelled at however it was at the bottom of the steps that she'd be down in a bit.
She needed time to contemplate what it was she had just found out from Narcissa.
A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I sent it off to my beta Tuesday, but she never sent it back. Please forgive her, it was her birthday this week, and she was incredibly busy. I desperately needed to get the chapter out before this weekend. So, this chapter stands unrevised, except by me. I ran through it a few times, and hopefully caught everything that was wrong. I hope you enjoyed it; it was unusually long for my standards.
I'm going away again this weekend, so the earliest I'll be able to get a chapter out is Tuesday (Warning people: that probably won't happen, so don't count on it). Have a nice weekend.
Happy Birthday, Serenity. This chapter was for you!!
Please review, all of you. They encourage me to write more. XOXO—Auburn Lily