Chapter 26: The Crosshairs
The absolute worst feeling, like a hand on her throat and frozen water in her lungs, gripped Dagmar—her body, more accurately. It only grew worse as the reality of Bellatrix's situation sunk in on Voldemort. Dagmar considered going to sleep until the worst of this had passed, but was jarred from the thought when Voldemort suddenly stood.
"Bella!" he called.
She had just about reached the exit. Her head snapped in Voldemort's direction, and she drew what sounded like a painful gasp. "My Lord!"
The Aurors leading Bella out redirected her before she had a chance to step toward him. She fought them anyway, as did Voldemort against Lydia, Renée, and Ellinor. Lydia's grip tightened on Dagmar's arm as she gave Voldemort a final warning before he'd be stunned.
Dagmar took that as her cue to slip out of the situation. When she tentatively came back to, she was in her room at Ramstad Manor. She laid on the bed, facing the wall. The blanket had been pulled up over her so that only her face peered out of the little cocoon. Voldemort was still there, as was the utterly raw feeling all throughout her body.
Footsteps sounded on the foyer stairs. They carried on through into Dagmar's room once they reached the landing.
Madam Bones' voice followed. "It must be him awake right now, yes? I doubt Dagmar would sulk this hard about Bellatrix."
White-hot anger flooded down through Voldemort's cold anguish. It cracked everything in its path, setting Voldemort into a restless tremble.
"Tom," Madam Bones addressed him through the bars. "Sit up. Let's talk."
Voldemort didn't budge.
"You could save her life, but I'm not talking to your back. I want to know that you understand what I'm about to tell you."
"I'm not stupid," Voldemort tersely replied. "I can hear you just fine."
"Is this not beneath your dignity?"
"Yes, but what's new? Just say what you mean to and then leave me alone."
"Listen carefully, then. I'm here to make a deal with you. You leave Dagmar's body, and I'll commute Bellatrix to a life sentence instead."
Voldemort scoffed. "How utterly transparent."
"Sure," Madam Bones agreed. "Is there something wrong with giving you some incentive to move along? It's not as though I'll be hurt by Bellatrix being gone if you force me to carry through. I also can't rule out another unanimous vote like she received this afternoon, for the others. We'll see come Friday. I think Pettigrew and Snape will be fine tomorrow and Thursday. Pettigrew got really chatty after being brought in, and Snape has worked on the sly for Dumbledore ever since you killed Lily Potter. Rodolphus? No guarantee. Based on everything I've heard so far, his chances are as good as Bellatrix's to not see summer."
Although Voldemort laid perfectly still, Dagmar felt him squirm internally.
"There's a time constraint on you saving Bellatrix's life—or any others that might land in the same situation. You have thirty days, Tom. That's not to make a decision, or start flirting with a maybe. If you are not gone from Dagmar's body before May fifth, Bellatrix will die. Then who will remember you the way you want to be? Let's not pretend that you won't eventually tire of this. Is this a life worth dragging out, being behind bars with no privacy and no one to talk to?
"And Dagmar is still open to Azkaban," Madam Bones added. "Maybe two months from now, after all is said and done with your followers—say worst case scenario happens, and they all go the same way as Bellatrix. You can have Azkaban all to yourself. I suggest you think really, really hard about what's most important to you and your legacy."
Although Voldemort didn't respond, Dagmar could nearly feel the blood rushing about her head with how hard he thought. A loathing deeper than anything Dagmar ever felt by her own volition blanketed over them like a second comforter. Voldemort curled in tighter to himself. The room was quiet spare whoever was on watch occasionally clearing her throat or turning a page in her book. Dagmar couldn't hear anyone else in the manor house.
Voldemort could only mope for so long. Dagmar sighed when she had control of her body again, him gone like a faded stomach ache. She threw the blanket off herself. She still wore the same robes she'd attended the trial in.
"He's gone," Dagmar told Madena, an Auror from Spain. "Would you pass me some clothes from the closet, please?"
Madena set her book aside. "What would you like?"
It took a little extra time to direct Madena through, but she at least was willing to have some fun with Dagmar. A glint came up in her eye as she showcased a slew of leggings for Dagmar to pick from. Dagmar had to go to the bathroom too, so Madena followed her to the door.
Dagmar struggled to let her bladder release. Rather than be embarrassed, giggling had developed into a defence mechanism. "Sorry. I've never had so many people involved in my bathroom routine before."
"It's all right." Madena looked back into the bedroom.
That helped, but Dagmar's cheeks burned a little as she finally managed to go. The humour bled out of her while washing her hands.
"Where's Draco?" she asked Madena.
"I'm not completely sure," she replied. "He might be with Mrs Malfoy. Madam Bones was going to talk to her about Bellatrix."
"Oh yeah." Dagmar chewed her lip briefly. "Is Narcissa okay?"
"I don't know."
Dagmar sighed and retreated to the chair beside her bed. One of her school texts sat earmarked on the bedside table.
She passively listened while reading for any sort of change in the manor house. Madena turning her page drew Dagmar's attention every time. So too did the house resettling. Eventually, Dagmar heard footsteps downstairs. They came up, and then Draco poked his head in.
Dagmar straightened. "Hey."
"Hey." Draco nodded at Madena in greeting when he stepped in. "All right?"
Dagmar closed her text. "Did Madam Bones tell you what she told Voldemort?"
"I heard." Draco dropped into the chair on the other side of the bars. "She told Mum about it when they discussed Aunt Bella."
"So what happened there?" Dagmar hesitantly asked.
"Well, Mum's a bit of a mess." Draco grimaced, although his expression smoothed back out once their fingers had hooked. "You'd think she wouldn't care after everything Aunt Bella did to her, but I guess she's still her sister."
"Ja."
"They talked about things like family plot and whatnot. The Blacks have one up in Lancashire. If the Ministry goes through with this, Bella will be buried there with her parents."
Dagmar studied Draco, trying to find where exactly his head was on all of this. He looked tired, but Dagmar didn't think she saw any sadness in there. Of course Draco likely had little to no soft feelings about Bellatrix. It was still his blood though, and Draco could just be too mentally exhausted from this entire ordeal to show his upset.
She waited for it to emerge, but Draco remained calm for the rest of the day. It juxtaposed the state Narcissa was in, the next time Dagmar saw her. Narcissa stayed the night in the master with her mum, and then slated to leave with her the next morning for Peter's trial. Voldemort had lost his opportunity to go because of his outburst at Bellatrix's, and Dagmar found she didn't mind at all that that meant she couldn't attend either. She asked Madena for the Daily Prophet from yesterday, and then got details later from Draco about how Peter's trial went. No death sentence, as Madam Bones expected, but life in Azkaban.
Professor Snape's the next day was a short one—him free to go with no consequences. Draco came by the manor before lunch, dickering about whether he should go today or tomorrow to talk to Gunvor about taking more time off. He headed for Norway with Dagmar's insistence.
He wasn't gone more than a couple of hours. With a forced exhale, Draco dropped into the chair beside Dagmar. He'd found the fresh bread made that morning by the house elves on his way back up.
"How'd that go?" Dagmar prompted him.
"Good. I'm off the schedule until at least the ninth of May now." Draco swallowed his mouthful of buttered bread. "It depends if Voldemort takes the deal, and if you need time adjusting to being back home."
"We'll figure it out." Dagmar reached through the bars to rest a hand on Draco's forearm. She ran her thumb against the grain of the fine, light hairs there. "Did Gunvor seem upset or anything?"
"No, thankfully. I'm still going to go up whenever I have time to keep up with the firedrakes. Other than that, Gunvor wants me to prioritize settling everything over here so that I'll be completely focused when I'm back." Draco took a bite of cheese. "She explained how all this affected my paid time off. I never thought about it before."
"Me neither."
"What I had is burned up. Good thing we don't need to worry about money, I guess. I sent rent to Janne out of my entitlement disbursements." Draco paused. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"
Dagmar made a noise in her throat. "I'll give you my half once we're in a position where we can square up."
"Okay."
"Or I can just take care of the next four months." Dagmar shrugged. "Either or."
Proper lunch arrived then, so they fell quiet for a while as they tucked in. Dagmar had been craving a good creamy chicken soup.
She eventually broke the comfortable silence. "I was thinking about the cottage, actually."
Draco looked up. "What about it?"
"Just had the thought that if we were going to buy it, we ought to wait until after we're married." Dagmar dipped her bread in the soup and let the excess drip off. "I'm sure we would have waited anyway, but I was thinking more that it would be easier for the cottage to be a marital asset than something we need to sort out in the prenup."
"Yeah, true enough." Draco chewed while he thought. "Still think we need a prenup? Neither of us have control of our family estates anymore. All we've got now is whatever each of us earned when we were working, then our disbursements."
"I think we should. We already decided to. There'll just be less to put in it now," Dagmar replied. "We have our own bank accounts. We each pay half for things that we share. Down the line when we have control of our family estates again, yours is yours and mine is mine."
"Okay."
Dagmar looked over at Draco, then smiled. "What?"
He shrugged, cheeks pinched with amusement. "I could easily forgot how uncomfortable you used to be, talking about money."
"Ja." That feeling had dried up for Dagmar, thanks to some life experience managing her personal finances. "I know where that anxiety came from now. Mum's been talking a lot about when I was little. We had next to nothing while she got situated in Tromsø. Even before that, I mean, we never had money or anything when we lived on the island. Didn't need it. It's a relatively new concept still for her. I wonder if I picked up on that, or maybe if it's something that comes from. . .you know. Having been alive all that time."
"You could ask your mum. I'm sure she'd know," Draco said.
"Some things held over apparently, like when our clan was slaughtered," Dagmar replied. "I didn't remember it, but Mum said I was a little distant for a while. I felt like something was missing. I knew we were supposed to have other people with us. I knew that something was wrong."
Draco nodded rhythmically, gaze darting beneath a furrowed brow as he chewed on some bread. "Your mum gave the Ministry some old memories from back then, didn't she? Wasn't that how they started the ball rolling on Sirius coming back?"
"Ja, Hermione said she's seen them." Dagmar hadn't asked for details though, unsure she wanted to know, and Hermione hadn't offered to tell her.
"Are you ever tempted to look at them? To see if maybe they jog something, or just to know?"
"I don't think I'd be all that keen on seeing some of it." Dagmar suppressed a shiver. "Maybe someday. Hermione and I talk about what her new position at the Ministry will mean for her and I. Mostly I think she's interested in my mum's perspective. I don't think there's much else I can really offer at this point, other than what a relationship with a mother like her is like. That's changing, now that I'm an adult. I finished growing up on my own, which she wasn't around for. She's also never gone through anything before like what Voldemort's done to her. She's still my mum, but I've felt at times lately like sometimes our roles reversed. Me telling her to eat more because she needs to gain weight, trying to talk her through her grief about Dad because she barely started to deal with it while in Azkaban. . .it's weird that she can be so immature. On Sunday, she fit right in with me and Daphne when we were being silly getting ready for dinner. Times like that, she feels more like a sister than a mother."
"There's nothing wrong with that," Draco said with a shrug. "I don't think things like that are completely exclusive to your situation. I've sort of felt like that with my mum and dad too. You know how usually the kid is supposed to cock up, and then the parent wonders how they were so stupid to get caught up in whatever that was? That's been reversed for me, with my father. As for my mum, she feels so different on this side of everything. She lived a really sheltered life before, then had no choice but to learn how to fend for herself after she ended up on the island. In a way, she grew up at the same time we did."
"Ja."
"Remember when Bellatrix was at our house, she said something about realizing your parents are just people?" Draco asked. "I hate that she was right. I miss when it seemed like our parents knew everything. Now it's unnerving to think back and realize they were just as clueless as we were."
"Well. . ." Dagmar shrugged, chasing a carrot slice at the bottom of her soup bowl. "Mine weren't clueless. They were just in way over their heads. I guess they were clueless about what was coming. It's unsettling in hindsight."
"I'm glad it's over." Draco sighed. "Well, nearly. What's your read on Voldemort? Is he considering Madam Bones' deal?"
"I think so," Dagmar replied. "I've been feeling kind of tired during the days. That happened on the island a lot because Voldemort spent half the night reading. If he's keeping my body from getting any rest, it probably means he's awake thinking."
"He hasn't talked to you?"
Dagmar shook her head. "We don't really talk at all. He'll ask me things about what's going on, but that's it."
To her, it all seemed like good news. That Voldemort had nowhere to go must be sinking in. Like Madam Bones said, she still had room to go on making his life more miserable. Voldemort couldn't have Azkaban to himself anymore since Peter headed back there, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be isolated. Madam Bones could even transfer all the Death Eaters that avoided a death sentence elsewhere, like Nurmengard, if she was particularly dedicated to the idea of a living tomb.
Dagmar felt that Madam Bones might have hit one of few soft spots Voldemort had, with Bellatrix. No matter how ornery he'd been or how he'd treated Bellatrix after Bergen, she remained his favourite. If anyone would stay loyal for decades to come—regardless of Voldemort's situation—it would be her. Rodolphus showed similar zeal, although Dagmar couldn't get a very good read on people like the Carrow siblings, Yaxley, or even Dolohov and the others. They all hadn't been privy to details like Bellatrix and Rodolphus were. They fell in line, and that was about it.
If Voldemort didn't have the benefit of mystery to his loss of power this time, how long would those ones keep on caring about him? People like them were drawn to power more than anything. That was also true of Bellatrix, but she had a personal relationship with Voldemort that transcended master and lackey. She knew all of Voldemort's business and secrets. He'd allowed her to take care of him—and take charge—when he was injured.
With his head rested against the back of the chair, Draco studied Dagmar through the bars. His gaze progressively softened, hitting its limit on that when Dagmar reached through again to take his hand.
"You might be home in a month," he eventually said.
"I really hope so," Dagmar replied. "I'm not looking forward to seeing nothing outside this room until Voldemort can be bothered to leave."
"Yeah."
The tip of Draco's thumb took a light stroking motion over Dagmar's palm. He wanted to say more, Dagmar could tell. When things were still relatively uncertain, planning remained impossible.
That didn't really stop Dagmar, though. She'd allowed herself to feel the pressure about restarting classes and Healer training after missing an entire term. Dagmar considered knocking some practicum hours out during May. She doubted she would need the entire month to get settled back in at home. Part of that entailed getting back on track. The only thing Dagmar could think she might need the extra time for was to study.
As for other things. . .
"There's something I want to run by you," Dagmar said.
"What's that?"
"What would you think about me hyphenating my last name?"
Draco blinked. "When we get married, you mean?"
"Ja." Dagmar paused, hoping he didn't take it the wrong way. "I don't really want to give up my dad's name. Since he and I weren't related by blood and this manor is going to be sold off once it's not being used anymore, I don't really have any other connection to him. I think it would just be a legal thing, anyway. Socially—and probably professionally, if I still get that prenatal practice Arne and I talked about—I'd just simplify it and go by Malfoy. And I wouldn't expect our kids to hyphenate."
"You wouldn't feel left out, or anything?" Draco asked. "If me and the kids have one name, and you have a different one?"
"I'd still have the same one as a Ramstad-Malfoy," Dagmar replied. "I wouldn't make a big deal about it, like I said. I just want to keep my dad's name. My mum said she is."
"Is that why you want to?"
"Not other than that's where I got the idea from, I guess." Dagmar studied him, toying with her bottom lip. "You don't like it?"
"I would have something to say if you didn't want to be a Malfoy at all, but I think that's a good reason to hyphenate. I don't blame you for wanting to keep that connection to your dad."
"I wouldn't if he was still alive." Fresh longing to see him again, just one more time, created an ache inside Dagmar. "I had so much unfinished business with him. We never had the chance to talk about me not actually being his daughter. I never got to hear it from his mouth that that never mattered, even if I know it didn't. I think I would've known otherwise. He probably just wouldn't have bothered with my mum in the first place, if a kid was a dealbreaker. That's the sort of thing you either go all-in on, or you stay away."
"Yeah."
"It feels like a way to honour the relationship we had, while we had it." Dagmar's eyes gained some weight to them, although remained shy of blurring. "Our kids will never get to meet him. He wouldn't have been able to walk me down the aisle if we decided to have a wedding. At least I know he approved of me marrying you."
"I think he liked me," Draco jested, suppressing a smirk. "I wasn't the first pick, remember."
"You were the final pick," Dagmar pointed out. "Arrangements aside, I think everyone can agree that me marrying you will go a lot better than had I gone with Blaise. My parents can't have known back then that he was gay. Even he didn't know."
"To be fair, sometimes it's easier to pick up on that in someone else than to know it about yourself."
"I didn't pick up on it." Dagmar shrugged. "I knew he didn't fancy me, but my mind never went there. You'd think I'd be the first one to notice."
"I shared a dorm with him and it never occurred to me, so don't feel thick."
Dagmar laughed.
"If you want to, though—coming back to your dad," Draco said, "I wouldn't mind honouring him by giving his name to a son, or something."
"Oh, I didn't think of that." Dagmar sat up a bit straighter. She felt done with her soup, so she put the tray it came on aside and turned more toward Draco with her legs folded underneath her. "Have you thought at all about names? Do you want to follow any Black or Malfoy customs, or. . .?"
"I haven't thought that far ahead," Draco replied. "I don't know that I'd care to follow either of them. Malfoy sons take their father's name as their middle name. That we could easily switch up by giving him your dad's name instead. As for the Blacks. . .some of the names are cool, but a lot are cumbersome. If there was a star or constellation name we just happened to like, that's an easy tradition to keep up. We'd have to be careful with them too, though. A lot of the names will have baggage attached to them. Is valuing blood purity really something we want to honour?"
"It could be considered reclaiming, instead," Dagmar said. "Family history isn't something you can just leave behind. I can tell you from experience, it's downright strange not to have something like that to root myself down. I'm basically my own mother, and grandmother, and so on, and I have no biological father. I don't even have a place I can really say I'm from. Is it Norway, because I grew up there? Is it Trondheim, because that's where Chelone happened to be this time I was born? Does Chelone even count as a place of birth, because she's a creature that I lived on top of? Does this plane count? Shouldn't it be something like Vanaheim? Or is that even where I was born? Was I born at all to begin with?"
Draco nodded slowly, thinking.
"You could see what your mum thinks, anyway." Dagmar played with Draco's hand. "Or Andie. Even Tonks or Sirius, really. You five are all that's left that counts of the Black family. It'll be up to you what sort of legacy you want."
"It's something we could figure out when it comes closer to the time." Draco paused, humming anew. "Although, I don't want to accidentally give off any hints that's something we're up to. Or do I care? Should I care? 'Hey Mum, Dagmar's letting me cum inside of her without anything stopping that from taking. We're going to name whatever comes of that, and we're on the hunt for ideas'."
Dagmar snorted. She ducked her face and shushed Draco, even though Lydia couldn't understand their Norwegian.
"I told my mum we were planning on having kids," Dagmar said when they stopped laughing. "I can't imagine she'll keep that from yours. Both of them will be excited to be grandmums, I bet."
"Mine for sure," Draco agreed. "I guess I don't have to be that blunt about it. I could just ask to borrow the family bible again."
"Ja."
During the moments this week when Dagmar felt down or lonely, she would daydream about what the life they planned would be like. Dagmar wanted to go home to the cottage so badly sometimes that her chest ached. She carded obsessively through moments of achievement at the hospital in her memory. Dagmar almost barely dared let herself imagine Draco lounging in the living room, playing with a baby. She could almost see the glint of sunlight off a wedding band on his finger.
The Daily Prophet this morning had caught Dagmar in one of these strange moods. In part of covering Peter's trial from the day before, it delved into his personal history. The primary focus of that was how his friendships with James and Lily Potter, Sirius, and Professor Lupin had ended with betrayal. Dagmar knew the story like anyone else, but it hit a little harder with photographs. In one was the wedding party from when James and Lily got married. Everyone looked beyond happy, and Dagmar had to remind herself that the war had been going on then in the background. You wouldn't know it, from their grins.
In the picture beside that one, Sirius and Professor Lupin sat on either side of Harry at Peter's trial. All that carefree ignorance from the wedding had been replaced with hollow grief.
Dagmar saw a reflection of herself in the wedding photo. Everyone in it thought they had their entire lives ahead of them—and together, at that. Dagmar had already gone through her own nightmare with this war. She could so easily not be here right now. Voldemort could've died after Harry took his shot in Bergen, and Draco could've actually been widowed before he and Dagmar had a chance to become legally bound. Dagmar was lucky not to have left a child behind, like Lily and James had.
Knowing how close she'd come to death unnerved Dagmar. What if it happened again? Should she be rushing into things like marriage and kids before she really had a chance to know for sure it wouldn't? But how did anyone know what to expect? Time and life were so incredibly fleeting.
Draco's grip on Dagmar's hand became more solid. She hadn't realized how carried away she'd gotten playing with his. He squeezed, pulling her attention.
"All right?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I guess talking about names makes it feel very real."
"Sort of. It's hard to put one to a face you haven't seen yet."
"Ja," Dagmar agreed. "We just haven't discussed it this seriously before. You know. . .not just that it'll happen, but actually sort of planning."
"Makes you nervous, doesn't it?"
Dagmar studied Draco, assessing his tone. He said that in a flat way, almost more like it was a statement than question. Dagmar tried to sort out if he directed it at her or meant it as a general sweeping comment.
"We've never been shy that that's going to change our entire life," Dagmar said. "I think it would be worrisome if we weren't overwhelmed by the idea. It'd be like we didn't appreciate how big of a deal having a baby is. Everything will revolve around this little bundle of needs for a long time. Our lives always will, even when they're independent."
"Mhm." Draco readjusted how he sat in his chair so that he was leaning against the side closer to Dagmar. "We aren't talking timelines right now, though. There are still other things to do first."
"Ja." Dagmar relaxed to have that explicitly stated. "I just can't imagine having my shit together enough right this moment to seriously figure out how far away it might be. With Daphne and Theo having one on the way, well. . .it feels like it really could happen any time. They weren't expecting it, but they're making it work. I'm sure we could too, if we were surprised like that."
"It's different for them." Draco shrugged. "Daphne didn't have any immediate career goals like you do. She hasn't heard her calling yet, so what's the harm in having children first? There are positives to having kids early. You can handle lack of sleep better. You're more active, maybe more playful too. Theo and Daphne will only be thirty or so when they send this kid to Hogwarts. If they only end up with the one, that's still a very young age to focus on yourself again—pursue a career, or travel just as a couple. Mr and Mrs Greengrass and Wes are all still quite young, so Theo and Daphne's daughter will have a long relationship with her grandparents."
A suspicion rose in Dagmar while Draco talked. "You've been thinking about this."
"I overheard Dad and Wes talking, and kinda ended up in it," Draco said. "We can't really ignore that we just went through something pretty fucked up. I thought an outsider perspective could be good. And—you know. Dad's my dad, and I might as well get comfortable with Wes as a stepdad. I guess you're supposed to ask your dads for advice once in a while."
Dagmar chuckled. "I'm relieved I'm not the only one unsure how to feel about the whole thing. Young parents are normal to me. By the time my mum was my age, I was already born. My dad didn't come around for a few years yet, but he took on the responsibility of a kid that wasn't his at only twenty-one."
"I don't think it'll ever change that what we do is completely up to you," Draco replied. "You're the one that has to go through nine months of pregnancy, followed by labour and delivery. I might get three months off work for it, but I won't pretend for a minute us having a kid will affect me as much as it will you."
"I know what to expect for the physical changes," Dagmar said. "I'm not too terribly worried about how things will look after. I've seen my mum's stomach. She bounced back just fine after two kids. Being tall with wider hips is a definite advantage. She never told me about any hormonal issues, post-pardum."
"That's good."
"Then there's still my work to factor in on our timeline." Dagmar pursed her lips. "Maybe that's another advantage to having a kid young. You can do it before you get established. Like you said about Daphne and Theo, they'll have extra time to figure out what they want to do, then they'll be free to pursue whatever once the kid's off to Hogwarts. Bit late for me on that already, but oh well."
"Would it affect your work, though?" Draco asked. "You already get to schedule the parameters of your clinic at this point, right? It's not like there was anything special about doing it on Sundays."
Dagmar shook her head. "I just preferred it over Fridays so that it lined up with your schedule."
"Exactly, so it's kind of your call, isn't it?" Draco replied. "What you do doesn't specifically even have to be done at the hospital. You could do it anywhere."
"I feel like doing it through the hospital is more legitimate, and Arne's been so good to me."
"I know. The point is you could do all this on your own. Instead of doing it at a hospital and taking a salary from Magical Welfare, you could charge out the arse for private care. You choose not to, but you have the option. So either the hospital bends to your needs or they lose you, is what I'm saying. I feel like any good dean or director or boss would see that. I think Arne does. He said as much, didn't he? That he was already getting ideas of how your abilities could be used for the hospital's benefit?"
"Ja." The mention definitely stirred something in Dagmar's memory, but she couldn't remember from where or when exactly. "I don't want to hold it over anyone's head, though."
"You don't have to. It's a professional relationship. You don't owe them anything, and they don't owe you anything. So long as things stay mutually beneficial, it's a good relationship. It's in their interest to work with you on anything you want to do with your life that might affect your schedule there. Even just for your Healer training, they're investing in you."
"True enough," Dagmar agreed.
Magical Welfare fielded the expenses of her education and paid her a small salary for the work she did during practicum hours. She was contracted to the hospital for five years following the programme. If she broke that, she would have to pay back what Magical Welfare had put in for her. Dagmar could afford whatever bill they might send her in that situation, but she didn't intend anything like that to happen. Arne had her loyalty after he'd looked beyond her iffy past and gave her a chance to flourish in his hospital.
"I think Arne would just work with me on it," Dagmar continued when Draco didn't say anything. "The culture up there is friendly toward families anyway. We'll get three months paid to bond and care for a new baby. I'm sure any of my patients will be very understanding if I take some time off—or even just shorten hours—because I did the exact same thing they're trying to do. Plus, now we have the luxury of our parents being around. We're not doing this by ourselves anymore."
"Yep."
Dagmar came away from the conversation feeling more thoughtful than her usual nervous. One thing neither she or Draco explicitly stated during was that having a child might even in ways be beneficial to her work. Empathy was a powerful tool in Healing. Even with as clear a view Dagmar had to the fetuses that passed under her hands, she found herself on a steep learning curve for the psychology of an expecting mother. The purpose of Dagmar's work (and the ring on her finger) emboldened patients to ask about who she had at home. Most poked around the question of kids, hinting instead of asking outright, and Dagmar didn't mind saying that she and her fiancée had plans down the road. Patients might be more comfortable—more trusting in their vulnerable position—with a fellow mother.
Those thoughts contributed to Dagmar's restlessness as the afternoon turned into evening. She wished she could work out some of her pent-up energy, either through a walk or (ideally) pulling Draco into her bed. Dagmar pushed deeper into exhaustion come morning, thanks to Voldemort's nighttime pondering. She felt like she hadn't slept at all. After she said goodbye to Draco on his way out for Rodolphus' trial, Dagmar crawled back into bed to try and get some actual rest.
She woke up deep in the afternoon, hungry. While seated on the toilet with her fist dug up into her cheek, she addressed Ellinor. "Is the trial still going?"
"It ended a little while ago," Ellinor told her. "I figured Voldemort would've come around to ask how it went."
"Which was?"
"Same outcome as Bellatrix."
"Death sentence and all?"
"Jaa." Ellinor shifted her weight in her lean against the door frame. "Draco came by when you were still asleep. He'll be back. Rodolphus had also put Narcissa down as his next-of-kin when he was arrested."
"Is she as upset as she was after Bellatrix's trial?"
"Not really." Ellinor looked away when Dagmar wiped. "It probably helped that this time she expected it."
"Ja."
Narcissa and Lucius came along with Dagmar's mum and Draco for dinner. The three Malfoys looked tired in the way that naturally resulted from meeting with Madam Bones and Mr Clayton. Dagmar had a fleeting thought that Lucius was more sullen than the situation called for, and learned through the course of dinner that it was due to something else entirely. He would begin the new job slated for him as part of his sentencing on May third. Arthur Weasley started as Head of Magical Enforcement that day, and Madam Bones thought it beneficial they receive the necessary training from her together.
Dagmar grimaced as she realized something. "Does that mean you're going to have to preside over any executions, should they actually happen?"
"Not really." Lucius poked at his salad. "It's the Wizengamot that calls for them, but the Azkaban office that oversees all of it. Arthur and I will probably have to be there, but I was going to be anyway for Bella and Rod."
Narcissa took an unsteady breath. "Could we maybe not discuss this over dinner?"
"Sorry." Dagmar hadn't meant to bring it up. She reeled the topic back, returning her attention to Lucius. "You're not looking forward to working with Mr Weasley? He seems like he'd be easy to get along with."
"We have a bit of a history."
By the time Lucius went home and Narcissa left with Dagmar's mum to give Draco and Dagmar time alone, Dagmar started to wonder if Voldemort intended to show up at all to find out what had come of Rodolphus. It was coming on nine o'clock that Draco, sighing, got up and left at Dagmar's announcement he'd emerged. She waited for him to take control, but his voice only sounded inside her head.
Well? he asked.
Death sentence, Dagmar replied. I've been told to pass along that it's the same deal as with Bellatrix. You leave, and he'll be commuted to serve life instead. You want to know what's sad?
Voldemort hesitated. What?
He tried to bargain with the Wizengamot before the verdict was delivered. He said he would take the death penalty instead of Bellatrix. He was already going to get it anyway, so it didn't really mean anything. He thought it might, though.
Voldemort had nothing to say to that. Dagmar braced anew for him to either take control or disappear, but he did neither. While she brushed her teeth and otherwise readied for sleep, Voldemort just hung around like a shadow loitering over her shoulder. He was still there when she started to doze off. Dagmar had a sneaking suspicion that she would wake up rough in the morning.
She was right. Dagmar considered going to sleep again and letting Voldemort deal with the fatigue alone. She realized she didn't have control of her body currently. Curiosity as to why that was made Dagmar linger.
Voldemort got up. Ignoring the press of Dagmar's bladder, he stepped up to the bars. Lydia had taken over at the last shift change. While Voldemort stared at her, she gazed back with a neutral expression. Dagmar's tongue rolled a little through her mouth, a show of Voldemort's hesitation. He rested a hand on the bars gingerly, as though he feared they might shock him.
"Need something?" Lydia finally prompted him.
"A word with the Minister."
An ibex Patronus burst forth from Lydia's wand. It headed off through the wall in direction of London. With it gone, Lydia returned to reading her magazine. Voldemort lingered at the bars. Dagmar's heart settled into a dull rap against her ribcage, and they started to sweat.
Can I go to the toilet? Dagmar asked.
Voldemort relinquished control so that Dagmar could tend to it. She kept her gaze up while seated because Voldemort stuck around. This close to possibly being rid of him, Dagmar had no interest in him seeing her bits. His mind seemed elsewhere, anyway.
He took back over after Dagmar finished. Too restless to sit, he paced instead. Dread and anxiety oscillated within them. Dagmar wanted to be cautiously optimistic that this might be Voldemort giving up, but she didn't dare hope quite yet.
Voldemort came to a stop when footsteps sounded downstairs. Madam Bones appeared in the room, sizing Voldemort up while he did the same thing in kind. She approached where he stood.
"Yes?" she said.
With a loose grip on the bars, Voldemort ran his fingers lightly over them. "If I give my consent to be removed from Dagmar, what's going to happen to me?"
"Well, we have nowhere else to put you," Madam Bones replied, "and we certainly aren't just going to let you go. That only leaves shattering."
"How do I trust that's what you'll do?"
Madam Bones furrowed her brow.
"What if you do have somewhere to put me?" Voldemort elaborated. "How do I know you're not just tricking me?"
"Setting precedence, I guess," Madam Bones said with a shrug. "Should this situation ever arise again, we wouldn't want someone in your position to doubt we'll keep our word. Trapping you wouldn't be worth the next person in Dagmar's situation."
Voldemort calmed in a way, as if this was what he'd hoped to hear. At the same time, he grew nervous. Dagmar's stomach fluttered with it. "I have demands."
"Those being?"
"I want to talk to Bella," Voldemort said. "Luca, too."
Madam Bones hummed. "I don't think those are entirely unreasonable, although I can't force Luca if he's not interested."
"He won't do it for Dagmar's sake?"
If Dagmar had control of her face right now, she'd frown.
"I can ask," Madam Bones replied. "That's it?"
"I also want a trial." When Madam Bones' eyebrows rose, Voldemort tightly smiled. "Oh, don't pretend you wouldn't love that, Amelia."
"Why would you, though?"
"I have my reasons."
Madam Bones folded her arms and leaned her shoulder against the bars. "It could certainly be arranged, although it wouldn't happen until all the others are done. The Wizengamot is fully booked until the twenty-ninth. It would also take time to prepare, although I'm sure most of the work on that would already be done through preparing for the others'. The thirtieth is a Friday."
"Okay."
"I'll book you in, then," she said. "And I'll get back to you about Bella and Luca."