**TRIGGER CONTENT** : Graphic violence (mid-end chapter). Gory details.
When Hermione woke up on the morning of her brother's birthday, her first thought was of him. She wished him a happy 23rd birthday. Then she realised that they had completely missed the start of breakfast and sprang to her feet, waking Draco who jerked awake and reflexively grabbed his wand from under his pillow.
"I think we have time to grab some toast before we leave for the Ministry," Hermione said as she disappeared into her room to find some clothes.
Draco lay there for a moment longer, massaging his eyes that were sticking together. The delectable memories of the night before, of their warm, naked bodies pressed together, of his frenzied, desperate thrusts into her, of her breasts in his mouth, her lips in his neck, her hand around his cock, percolated through his mind to the deepest layers of his soul. Whatever happened, he could always keep these moments within his heart, but nothing would make up for her absence. Just thinking of her… permanent absence felt like burning oxygen coating his lungs.
"Draco!" she shouted at him from her room. "Don't forget the vial!"
He sighed and climbed out of bed, reciting in his head all the healing spells and their incantations that he had learned by heart over the past week.
The Great Hall was half empty when Draco and Hermione arrived, their hair a little dishevelled. They were both wearing Muggle clothes. Hermione was wearing jeans that molded her legs and a sand-colored jumper, the magical coin tucked neatly into her bra. She had braided her hair quickly into one long thick braid. Draco wore black jeans and a flimsy coat, also black. Only Ginny and Ron were finishing their breakfast at the end of the Gryffindors table. Draco looked towards the Slytherin table for Blaise but couldn't find him.
"Oh!" exclaimed Ginny as soon as she saw them. "You've come!"
"We only have a few minutes," Hermione said.
She grabbed a piece of toast, which was magically warm from a plate in the centre of the table, and bit into it. Draco followed her lead, sitting down on the end of the bench.
"Where's Harry?" asked Hermione, looking around a bit.
Ron looked at Ginny before frowning. Ginny gave him a reciprocal look. Hermione caught the unspoken words they were exchanging right away.
"What, guys?" she pressed. "Where is he?"
"We don't know, actually," Ginny said.
Draco swallowed and wanted to let out an impatient groan. They couldn't be bothered to think of anything else today...
"I spoke to him last night," said Ron. "Just like you told me to do."
"And...?"
"And he seemed normal. He was worried, but like I said, it's normal. He's like your brother."
Hermione blinked as she considered this sentence. It felt funny. She had only had one blood brother, but more than one who was not biologically related to her.
"What did he say to you?" she asked.
Ron shrugged and took a bite of cereal. "That he knew you and just hoped you didn't do anything stupid."
Draco looked up suddenly. "Potter said that?" he blurted out. It sounded...unusual. Even for Potter.
"He knows that when you love someone," Ron continued, "you...can put your own life in danger. But let's be honest, we all do that too."
"Don't beat about the bush, Weasley," Draco snarled. "Potter said he didn't want Hermione to sacrifice herself for me or anything like that."
Ginny watched quietly as everyone spoke.
Ron looked uncomfortable. "He didn't say that exactly... and not like that, no."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Bullshit."
Ron ignored him. Hermione bit her lower lip.
"He told me he had homework to continue, so I went upstairs to bed," Ron finished. 'He wasn't in the dormitory when I woke up."
Hermione tried to calm her heartbeat. She was trying to convince herself that nothing bad had happened. Harry was worried about her, and when he was worried he tended to shut down and even isolate himself. He probably needed some time alone while this whole... mission was going on, so that he could keep his emotions in check.
Draco looked at his watch, the one Hermione had given him, and lightly touched the brunette's wrist. "We have to go," he said softly.
Hermione stood up and looked at her two friends with a slightly wet eye.
"No, we're not doing this a second time," said Ginny, also teary-eyed. "We'll see you later."
This is not a farewell, Hermione repeated to herself. This is not a farewell.
"See you later," she whispered.
"Oh, and Malfoy?" said Ron right before they left.
Drago looked at Ron and raised an eyebrow, expecting.
"Kick his arse. Duncan's, I mean."
The Slytherin couldn't help but smirk. He ruffled Ginny's hair, just as Sam used to do with Hermione. He grabbed his girlfriend's hand and guided her to McGonagall's office.
Everything was in order. They were in the Aurors' Operations Room on the first floor of the Ministry of Magic. The room was rectangular, very wide and bright, with a domed ceiling magically reflecting the sky outside. Although, in reality, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was right above them. The ceiling was made of squeaky black marble. Several small stations were set up in different places, as well as small dressing areas, curtained off. Circular tables with a few chairs were placed at the right end of the room, for 'last minute' meetings or to finalize plans.
Clive and Fergus had welcomed them into McGonagall's office as soon as they had finished their breakfast toast. The Headmistress' chimney had been activated so that they could use it to go to the Ministry. Fergus had made sure they had Blaise's and Ginny's respective hair before guiding them towards the green flames that Clive had just left.
McGonagall had signed a form for her agreement as Headmistress of the two students to the mission, even though the form was merely a matter of administrative paperwork for the Aurors' Office to avoid legal action. At the Ministry, Draco and Hermione had also had to sit in an office to sign a similar document, attesting to their consent as adult wizards to their 'active participation, entirely independent of any external pressure, in a mission initiated by the Aurors' Office and aimed at assisting the Auror(s) involved.' They had then been guided to the Operations Room, where Fergus had made them wait to fetch the Polyjuice potions.
"Prepared by our most skilled Potions Masters," he said, handing them each a glass filled with the unappetising potion. "It should last 45 to 60 minutes. We must leave within fifteen minutes of you taking it."
Draco and Hermione swallowed their respective potions with their friends' hair. Hermione's clothes fitted Ginny's body perfectly as they were the same height and had roughly the same figure, but Draco realised that while Blaise was a few inches taller than him in terms of height, he was also broader in shoulders and thus his clothes were a bit too tight. Fortunately, the room was equipped with a corner full of clothes of all kinds, sizes and occasions, fitting for everyone, and mainly intended for Polyjuice users. He had been given a larger shirt and overcoat. Black.
"You look strange," Draco remarked, staring at Hermione.
"I'm Ginny now, that's all!" she said, twirling a lock of straight red hair between her fingers. "Come on, it's not that weird, we see them every day."
"Yeah, but I don't feel like kissing you as much..."
"I don't necessarily want to kiss you either," she replied, detailing Blaise Zabini's features.
"But we're a couple."
"So kiss me, Draco!" she sighed. "Make up your mind!"
"Hey, guys," cut in Clive, annoyed, who was filling out a form. "You don't even need your own appearances to look like a couple. You should start calling each other by your disguise names."
Draco rolled his eyes and looked down at Hermione, now the spitting image of Ginny Weasley.
"You're the love of my life… Freckles," he said, blank face and monotone voice.
How strange it was to say that sentence with someone else's name!
"Love you too… Zabini," she winced.
Clive finished filling in his form at the same time that Fergus opened the curtains of the changing area, now displaying the snide features of Draco Malfoy. Hermione stared at him with her now blue eyes, trying to stop herself from throwing herself at his neck.
Fergus, as Draco, stared back with grey eyes at the real Draco Malfoy, as Blaise.
"If your girlfriend keeps staring at me like that, we're going to have a problem," he teased.
Hermione felt herself blush and looked away. Clive entered the small changing area and closed the curtains. A few minutes later he walked out, now resembling Hermione.
"This is fucking weird," Draco grumbled. "I won't get used to this."
"You'll get used to it soon, trust me," Clive replied, his voice still masculine.
A twinkle crossed Draco's chocolate eyes and a mocking look crept into his face. "You know you two are a couple now. If we have to play pretend, so do you."
Fergus, looking quite inexpressive under Draco's skin, shrugged, grabbed the back of Clive's neck and kissed him quickly. Draco had never experienced watching himself kiss Hermione, and he didn't know what to make of it. That was the strangest thing he had ever witnessed.
"Another request, Mr. Zabini?" asked Clive.
Draco felt himself redden, but masked his embarrassment perfectly. Fergus laughed. "This is not our first mission," he said. "You can trust us. We can be convincing."
"I've noticed," Draco replied.
"Okay, last station, Voice Modulations," Fergus said. "Because if you're as uncomfortable with Clive's voice as I am with the way he looks…"
The four 'teenagers' made their way to the last table at the far end of the room where several uniformed Aurors, secretaries and paper planes were circulating. Two Charms experts, a man and a woman, sat behind the table and greeted them enthusiastically.
"A young woman's voice, please," asked Clive.
The woman gestured with her arm to invite him to sit in the chair opposite her. "Origin?" she asked.
"Reading," he said.
"It's a matter of accent," Fergus whispered, leaning towards Draco and Hermione. He sat in the chair facing the man and asked for a slightly younger male voice.
"Origin?" the man asked.
"Wiltshire."
As the man and woman performed their incantations, pointing their wands at the Aurors' throats, Hermione and Draco stood by, fascinated by the process. After two minutes it was over and Clive asked Hermione, as Ginny, to change her voice.
"Mackie knows you and will recognize your voice," he explained in a completely female voice that bore a striking resemblance to Hermione's.
The woman asked him where she was from, to which Hermione replied 'Devon' before the woman casted spells that would give her another female voice. Only Draco kept his own voice, posing as Blaise Zabini. It was all over in the space of a few minutes, after which Clive rubbed his hands together.
"Everyone gets into character in three, two, one…"
"Come on, Granger, we're going to be late!" said Fergus.
Draco could swear these two were having a blast. They didn't look stressed at all. They were genuinely confident in their mission, which helped him relax himself.
"We have an hour maximum for the voice modulation spells," Fergus said, opening the back door of the room which led to a dark alley outside.
"One hour maximum for voices and forty-five minutes minimum for appearances," Hermione summarised, taking "Blaise's" hand as he helped her down the stairs.
"Fifteen minutes have already passed for appearances, so we have to be quick," Clive added.
He turned his amber eyes on the two young wizards with them, the small, flamboyant figure of Ginny Weasley and the tall, dark figure of Blaise Zabini. He took a breath.
"You're not supposed to interfere," he added. "Mackie will come to Miss Granger, therefore me. It should only take a few minutes. The plan is for him to confess to being Mackie, or Duncan, by giving himself away with a gesture or a word. I think it will happen quickly. As Aurors, we're not allowed by law to attack someone who doesn't show any signs of threat."
"But we can," Draco grumbled.
"Willem's there, isn't he?" asked Hermione.
Fergus nodded as he closed the door behind him. "Like us, he's disguised as a wizard. He's old and wearing green."
"Does he know which one of you is which?" asked Draco.
Clive stared at him with the accusing look of Hermione that Draco recognised all too well. "This is not our first mission, Mr. Zabini," he said.
Fergus held out his hands and the other three people strapped themselves together, ready for the Apparition. Hermione's heart raced in her chest, she was surprised it didn't burst out of her and tear her apart. The goal was only for Duncan to reveal his identity — his real identity — somehow, and there would be three experienced Aurors and two eighth years to stop him. The danger was almost minimal.
Fergus leaned into Clive's ear. "Don't tell my wife I kissed you," he muttered.
The most precise location Fergus could apparate them to — four people was still a lot of weight — was the Chiswick Baptist Church, about a hundred meters from the graveyard. As soon as they landed in the churchyard, Clive rolled his eyes.
"Even my wife knows we've had to do worse for a mission," he said and stretched out his hand. "Darling?"
Fergus intertwined his fingers with Clive's and they started walking towards the graveyard, followed closely by Hermione and Draco, who also clasped their hands together. They were two couples, two pairs of friends, visiting the graveyard. Hermione couldn't forget that this was the first time she was visiting the graveyard since her brother had died. And that first time was not really to pay her respects and have a moment alone with Sam. It was to catch his killer. She promised herself she would return under different circumstances.
Fergus, as Draco, let Clive, as Hermione, pass in front of him out of chivalry at the graveyard's gates. At Hermione's side, Draco walked straight ahead, hands in his pockets, and the redhead had his arm wrapped around his arm. She was shaking with anticipation, but thankfully Draco seemed firm, resolute and solid on his feet.
They walked slowly between the rows of gravestones, as if there was no rush, trying not to stare too hard at those already there. Hermione had already noticed an old man in green wizard's robes and a hat of the same colour, sitting on a bench writing in a journal or notebook. Willem. There were some trees in the graveyard, but not in the central part. The biggest one was an elm with a large trunk, in the left part of the cemetery. The place was surrounded by a black metal fence, and an imposing stone mausoleum was visible on the right. A few spring flowers sprang up among the weeds.
Once close enough, Hermione finally noticed the figure of Ivana in the fifth row. She was wearing a beige trench coat and her hair was held back behind her right ear by a sophisticated barrette.
"Hermione?" Ivana said with a frown.
Fergus, Clive, Draco and Hermione looked up at the same time. Hermione had no doubt that the Aurors had just feigned surprise when they knew full well that 'Ivana' was there. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from answering and let Clive do the work.
"Ivana, right?" Clive replied, mimicking Hermione's somewhat guarded expression to perfection.
Ivana approached them, her hands unseen in her coat pockets. Draco wondered if she was handling her wand or a knife. He continued to watch her, controlling every muscle in his body to keep himself from reaching for his wand right away.
Ivana stopped ten feet from Clive and Fergus. "You've come with your friends," she remarked.
"Yes," Clive replied. "Moral support. This is the first time I've been here since Sam…" He let his voice trailed off.
Ivana nodded politely at 'Blaise and Ginny'.
"Hello," Hermione blurted out in her altered voice, hoping that Ivana had never spoken with Ginny. "You met my brother. In November."
"I remember."
Up to this point, everything seemed normal, and the real Hermione was even beginning to wonder if this Ivana standing in front of them was really Duncan. They couldn't afford to spend thirty minutes making small talk, as the efficiency of the Polyjuice and voice modulation spells was already running out like an hourglass that Hermione could picture all too well in her mind.
The old man on the bench had looked up from his journal and was quietly watching them. One of his hands was hidden under his coat. Clive and Fergus knew that Willem already had his hand on his wand. Willem had a wide view of the graveyard and had enough distance to spot any danger around. In the worst case, he would have the best window of opportunity, thanks to his distance, to call for reinforcements if needed.
Draco was keen to test whether he was able to Apparate out of the graveyard, fearing that Ivana — or Mackie — had managed to apply an Anti-Apparition Jinx spell after they had appeared.
A loud, deafening crack echoed through the graveyard and Hermione gasped, already so nervous, before clutching 'Blaise' a little more tightly. The Aurors made no move to grab their wands and Draco was impressed by their self control. A second Ivana, in a blue coat and ponytail, had just appeared in the eleventh row and she stood still as she looked at the four teenagers talking to a copy of herself.
"Hermione?" she called out, about ten metres away, without moving. "What's going on?"
This wasn't part of the plan, Draco thought with a pang of anxiety that was beginning to grip him, feeling his heartbeat quicken considerably. He looked at Clive and Fergus, who looked confused. Fuck, Draco thought. If even the Aurors are confused, that wasn't a good sign. Everyone had to keep playing along, but the arrival of a second Ivana had not been anticipated at all.
The first Ivana looked at her look-alike with a dazed expression. "I... I don't understand?" she squeaked.
Hermione could have sworn that the first Ivana's expression was genuine. Was the second Ivana who had just appeared... Duncan?
The second Ivana suddenly strode over, looking angry, staring at her look-alike. She drew her wand and pointed it directly at the other Ivana's chest. The latter stepped back, visibly frightened, raising her palms in front of her in defence.
"Who the hell are you?" shouted the second Ivana in the blue coat.
"Guys," croaked Ivana in the trench coat, "if this is a joke, I'm not laughing at it at all."
Hermione, completely lost, had her mouth half-opened. Every face in the graveyard had the same expression of utter confusion. The Aurors had told them that the real Ivana only came to the graveyard once a month, which meant that the one in the graveyard every day was not really Ivana. But how could they be sure? Hermione, the night she'd been tortured in the Forest, had seen in Duncan's memories that he'd been visiting Ivana and had even convinced her to be part of his plan to help him capture Hermione. The real Ivana hadn't given her a warm welcome when she'd visited with Harry and Ron. What if after all this time, as soon as Pansy had been arrested, Duncan had gone back to her, to Ivana, because he no longer had an accomplice? Maybe she was working with him now... Maybe this was all part of Duncan's evil plan. Maybe this scene of utter confusion of the two Ivanas meeting had been planned for weeks and even rehearsed as a comedy in her own living room in Bloomsbury?
Hermione hoped that one of the Aurors had the same reasoning as her and could do something about it. Time was running out. It felt like an hour had already passed, but more realistically, it was twenty minutes.
The second Ivana in the blue coat clenched her jaw and glared in Clive's direction. "Hermione?" she spat. "Say something!"
Neither Clive nor Fergus wanted to reveal that they were Aurors, and Fergus decided to play his Draco Malfoy role by stepping protectively in front of Clive to push him back behind him.
"I have no fucking idea what's going on," he growled. "I suggest you back off!"
But the second Ivana did not lower her wand, still aimed at the first Ivana. A gleam suddenly crossed her blue eyes. "Does this have anything to do with the investigation to catch Duncan? Some Aurors came knocking on my door a fortnight ago and asked me if I came here regularly!"
The first Ivana in the trench coat visibly flared up, and shoved the wand pointed at her with an aggressive arm movement. "I come here every day to see my sister!"
It was Fergus' turn to draw his wand, but he did not raise his arm. "One of you is Duncan."
Even Hermione, who kept looking back and forth at them, couldn't make out which one was the real one. She didn't know Ivana personally well enough to spot her mannerisms or facial tics. And if one of them was Duncan, he played the part perfectly... too perfectly, in fact. Nervousness churned in her stomach and pulled at her train of thought.
"What's your sister's name?" Clive asked suddenly.
"Angela Jenkins," the two women answered at the same time.
"What's her birthday?" continued Clive.
"June 2nd," the two women answered again in unison.
Draco guessed what Clive was doing, but he wondered if it was a waste of time. If Duncan had been in love with Angela, he knew her almost as well as his sister...
"This is ridiculous!" shouted the first Ivana. "Angela was my little sister! Hermione, you've already met her, you know that! Look me in the eyes! You came to see me, I offered you tea!"
Clive clenched his jaw but did not answer. In his head, the same reasoning that had been going through Hermione's mind a few minutes earlier was now storming his mind. Had Ivana and Duncan actually been accomplices all along? Was this all an act?
The second Ivana stared at her twin, eyebrows furrowed. Her teeth were clenched. "Angela is my little sister," she enunciated, emphasizing the verb tense. "Even if she's dead, she still is. And always will be. I'm surprised you're talking about her in the past tense…"
Fergus, Clive, Draco and Hermione all looked at the first Ivana in the trench coat. Something ignited deep inside Hermione at the second Ivana's words. When Hermione spoke of Sam, she used the past tense when talking about what had happened to him, but she had never said 'he was my brother' or 'I had a brother'. Death does not break the sacred bond that united a family...
The second Ivana continued, looking at Clive.
"You came with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley on the 21st of November and told me I had a nice house. I did the wrong thing that day, I —" She paused and sighed, then resumed, her tone more controlled. "Duncan wanted me to find a way to keep you. I was supposed to call him. But you sensed something was wrong and left in a hurry. I realize Duncan manipulated me, he kept saying your brother was toxic to my sister, but... I'm sorry. I really don't have anything against you."
Hermione tried to hide her confusion and let 'Blaise' slip an arm around her waist.
The first Ivana squinted, looking suddenly defiant and bold. "You think you're clever, don't you? she spat at her look-alike.
"I don't care who you are, and if it's really you, Duncan," the second Ivana retorted, "I don't want you to hurt Hermione. Your manipulation is over..."
Silence fell over the graveyard, and the wind whistled through the branches of the elm tree, which bore only a few leaves. Slowly, very slowly, the first Ivana withdrew her hand from her coat pocket with her fingers closed around her wand.
"I'm not Duncan," she articulated, before waving the wand in front of her own face.
Silver sparks flew from her wand and struck her face gently, distorting it slightly. Her hair shortened, her eyelashes lengthened, and her forehead widened very subtly. Hermione, under Ginny's skin, could not help but gasp. It was Angela who was there, staring defiantly at her older sister.
The effect on Ivana was immediate. Her hard mask disappeared, and her features dropped. She whitened visibly. "A-Angie?" she stammered.
HERMIONE
The first Ivana had just pointed her wand at her own face, and Hermione couldn't tell if she had made a mask disappear or appear. Angela was dead. Hermione had seen her die in Duncan's memories. The young woman standing in front of them was no longer Ivana's look-alike, but she looked very much like her and seemed to have grown younger. The two sisters looked very similar.
Hermione looked at Ivana, who was shivering under her blue coat. Her complexion was pale, as if she had just seen a ghost, which was actually not far from the truth. The corners of her eyes were filled with tears, glistening and incredulous.
Clive and Fergus, almost simultaneously, raised their wands to Angela. Further away, Willem had risen from the bench and moved subtly closer, pretending to look at another grave.
"Angela is dead," Clive said, again in a voice almost identical to Hermione's.
Ivana dived towards Clive and clung to his arm to pull his wand down. "No!" she cried, the first tear rolling down her cheek. "Hermione, wait!"
Hermione, still standing motionless beside 'Blaise', felt her heart sink down slowly to her stomach. A mixture of hope, disbelief, surprise, joy and sadness shone in Ivana's eyes as she couldn't take her eyes off her little sister.
"The dogs found you, in the woods…" Ivana whispered.
Angela's face broke into a comforting smile. Slowly she raised her hand, as if inviting her sister to come closer. Ivana stood there, tears rolling down her cheeks. Hermione felt her own eyes sting. Just the thought of Sam reappearing like that, right in front of her, filled her with an overwhelming mixture of confusion and euphoria. She couldn't imagine what Ivana must be feeling.
Angela grabbed her sister's hand gently and pulled her to her very carefully. Ivana surrendered, sniffling. "You... You're dead…" she whispered repeatedly.
Clive and Fergus continued to watch the scene, their brows furrowed, wands still clutched in their hands along their sides. Hermione could see their white knuckles. The scene was... unreal. She couldn't quite tell how much of what was happening was staged, how much was improvised and how much was genuine. At her side, she heard Draco draw a long breath. She was sure he was doing everything he could to keep himself from interfering and let the Aurors do their job. They were all waiting for some sort of confession that would help them identify Duncan.
"I'm so sorry," Angela breathed, once her sister was in front of her.
"This can't be true," Ivana sniffed, wiping her runny nose on her coat sleeve. "I... I miss you so much... Every day…"
"I miss you too, big sis'," Angela replied, her voice weak.
As if her barriers were breaking down, Ivana leaned down until she almost fell into her sister's arms, hugging her with all her might. Angela slipped her arms around her and gently rubbed her back. A tear slipped down Hermione's cheek and she wiped it away in a flash.
"Ivana..." Clive began in an almost shy voice.
The two sisters ignored him, continuing to hug each other. Angela pulled her sister away from her and held her at arm's length. "You want to know what happened that day, don't you?" she huffed.
Ivana nodded quickly, wiping away her tears. Hermione's heart leapt in her chest. No... No, no, no... Angela gently stroked her sister's face to brush aside one of her locks.
"My boyfriend killed me," Angela said, her gaze firmly fixed on her sister's blue eyes.
Ivana's features remained blank, as if she hadn't heard anything, until slowly, very slowly, her eyebrows furrowed more and more.
Angela pointed at Clive with her chin. "Her brother," she added, as if a clarification were necessary. "Sam... killed me."
The emotion that flashed across Ivana's face at that moment disturbed Hermione deeply as she looked into Clive's eyes. An expression of betrayal tore at her features. Her eyes were as round as two marbles and filled with new tears. Hermione's heart was pounding against her rib cage. 'Blaise' tightened his arm a little tighter around her waist, as if he had guessed what was unfolding inside her.
"It's... It's true?" Ivana whispered to Clive, barely audible. "Your... b-brother...?"
Clive pursed his lips and said nothing, either because he didn't know what to say or because he was too confused to answer. Yet this was the confirmation Ivana was looking for, for her breath escaped her throat, as if all the oxygen in her body had just left her in one second.
Angela, for the first time in several minutes, looked at Clive for a moment, with a frightening intensity. Then her gaze shifted to Fergus, or "Draco", and lingered on him. Her eyes finally rested on her older sister, who was stammering without being able to articulate coherent sentences.
"Yes," Angela replied in a suddenly icy voice. "Yes, he killed me. And you are no longer of any use to me."
What happened in the next second profoundly scarred Hermione. Angela, with lightning speed, shoved her hand into her coat pocket. As her hand sprang out, holding a knife, her arm made a precise, semi-circular, horizontal movement and she slit Ivana's throat. Right. In front. Of her. Blood spurted from her ruptured jugular and splattered on Angela's victorious face.
"NO!" screamed Hermione.
The two Aurors pounced on Angela, but she was prepared. She knocked Clive down with a deft feint and began to wrestle with Fergus. With the knife clutched in her palm, the blade still dripping with blood, she looked like a warrior goddess.
"He had to die!" she shouted. "I had to make him understand that he could not get away with lies!"
During that time, "Ivana" was clutching her throat with both hands, dropping her wand, but the blood poured freely from her clenched fingers. Her body slumped heavily and she slid to the ground. Terror, confusion, and betrayal were painted on her face. Hermione instinctively rushed towards her, pushing her long red hair over her shoulder. She didn't really believe that the poor woman bleeding to death before her eyes was Duncan. The genuine panic in her eyes told her otherwise. 'Blaise' imitated Hermione, kneeling at the young woman's side, while the Aurors were engaged in a fight with Angela, but one could tell that they were full of doubt and their moves were neither convincing nor convincing.
Willem, who was further away, took advantage of the distraction of the fight to run over to Hermione and Draco, and assist them. He almost fell to his knees right in front of Ivana's noticeably whitened face and pulled out his wand. No incantations came out of his mouth. Hermione could see the horror on his face. Without saying anything more, Draco took out his wand and began to recite healing enchantments on Ivana, but the effects were not strong enough.
Hermione stroked Ivana's white face. Her throat was making terrible gurgling sounds that nearly made her gag. Leaning over her, she looked into Ivana's frightened eyes with her blue eyes, with Ginny's eyes.
"It's okay, it's okay..." Hermione cried, with a faint crack of her voice. "You'll see your sister soon, I promise. She will welcome you, she will guide you home. You'll be okay… Look at me. She'll take care of you."
Ivana kept her eyes fixed on 'Ginny's', on this stranger, on the dark-skinned young wizard who was reciting enchantments over her, and on this old man with a kindly look. Hermione prayed to Merlin that Ivana could somehow see her true identity, not a facade... An ally, perhaps. A last-minute friend.
Quickly, as if someone had turned off the light with a wave of their wand, Ivana's eyes dimmed and she went still. Dead.
Murdered.
Draco closed his eyes, trying to hide his dismay, and slowly, with his index fingers, closed Ivana's eyelids in one smooth motion. Hermione stood up and stared at Angela in shock. She continued to fend off the Aurors who tried to get her under control with force and heat, and sweat beaded on her forehead. Knife in one hand, wand in the other, she kept her attackers at bay, ferocious. She kept repeating words to convince them that she had just killed Duncan. Somehow she had managed to knock Clive to the ground, who was squirming with his head in his hands.
Hermione knew she wasn't supposed to talk, but Ivana wasn't supposed to die either.
"She's dead!" she spat. The fight stopped as soon as she opened her mouth.
"I sure hope she is," Angela sneered, looking down at her sister's body at her feet. She spat thick, red saliva on the ground and wiped her mouth.
Silent as a shadow, Willem had returned to his strategic spot where he could get a round view of the graveyard, wand locked in his hand. Positioned this way, his coworkers could see him, but not Angela. With a flick of his wand, he made a loud sound that sounded like a cracking noise. Hermione guessed that he had just faked Apparating, to make Angela, with her back still to him, think that he had left. But no one paid him any attention. He remained motionless and mute. In Angela's eyes, he was just an old wizard who had witnessed a murder and decided to flee the scene.
Draco grabbed Hermione's wrist to pull her back. If Hermione decided to confront this woman who had just murdered Ivana in front of several witnesses, she would reveal her true identity. And Duncan would know that she wasn't really Ginny, and that Blaise was really Draco.
Fergus took charge, assuming his role as Hermione's boyfriend. He instinctively stepped in front of Clive, who was struggling to get up from the ground with a long, bloody gash on the side of his face, pointing his wand at the young woman.
"Game over," he spat, raising his wand, poking it into Angela's cheek. "Ivana wouldn't have killed Duncan this way. Drop the act, Duncan. It's over."
"Oh... good boy," Angela simpered.
And those two words, for Hermione, erased any trace of doubt, and it was the same for the Aurors. The status quo was broken, and within a second, hostilities broke out. Clive and Fergus were closest to Angela, or Duncan, and when she raised her knife before they could retreat, Fergus pushed Clive away from the danger and the blade sank into his arm. A gut-wrenching howl burst from his throat and he dropped his wand, pinning a hand to his wound.
"Draco!" shouted Clive.
"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted, wand pointed at Angela.
The young woman deflected the spell with ease. Hermione hadn't noticed when she had grabbed her wand. Clive soon followed Hermione's lead, focusing again and positioning himself in front of Fergus to shield him from the spells coming from Angela's wand. Willem rushed towards them, casting his first inaudible spell towards the young woman in the trench coat. Hermione repeated spell after spell, trying to make her lose her balance, or her grip on the knife. It suddenly seemed as if protective barriers were forming around Hermione without her having magically summoned them. Was it Draco's ANTS magic protecting her?
"I thought I killed you," Angela growled, her eyes fixed on Clive.
His face was beginning to shift, twitching as if bugs were crawling under his skin, and Hermione recognised the obvious signs of the Polyjuice potion losing its effect.
"Good thing you didn't," Clive retorted.
"Your Pureblood can't save you this time," Angela grumbled, her voice a little deeper.
Hermione knew what was coming. But suddenly two figures cloaked in black smoke streaked across the sky above the graveyard, casting shadows over their battle. Everyone looked up, following the dark trail of smoke as it swirled around itself. Hermione hadn't seen Death Eaters in a long time, and the mere sight of them made her blood run cold.
Angela let out a loud, raucous laugh, and when Hermione looked back at her, she wasn't even surprised to see Duncan. In his true form. Tall, broad and blonde. Evil-looking. He removed the now too small trench coat and threw it on the ground. He was wearing a large black shirt that now fitted his figure, sticking to the bulge of his biceps.
"Blaise!" cried Clive, taking advantage of the distraction. "Go to Draco!"
Draco didn't obey, and Hermione knew he wanted to stay close to her to protect her, but Clive repeated his shout, this time his voice full of anger and impatience. Hermione couldn't understand how he managed to stay in his role.
"BLAISE!" repeated Clive, deflecting a spell from Duncan. "Go to him!"
Draco finally complied and knelt before Fergus, who was bent over in pain. Hermione did not hear the incantations he recited to heal him.
Duncan took advantage of the fact that Clive and Willem were watching the sky to throw his knife straight at Willem. The handle spun like a helix, splitting the air with a hiss, and lodged itself in the old man's neck. A terrified scream ripped through Hermione's throat just as Clive rushed towards Willem.
"NO!" he bellowed.
Duncan stopped his run by casting a non-verbal paralysis spell on him and Clive froze, one foot dangling in the air. He fired a spell at Hermione, and ropes sprang from his wand, twisting around her wrists and ankles. Her wand fell from her hand.
The two wisps of smoke finished their flight and landed at Duncan's side, as Willem's body stiffened and he dropped to his knees, the thick blood flowing from his wound trickling onto his green clothes. It took only a few seconds for him to stop moving. The Polyjuice magic was slowly leaving his body, restoring him to his original appearance.
Draco helped lift Fergus, his own look-alike, to his feet. Fergus shook himself, having regained his colour, but his eyes widened at the sight of the three black figures. And when Draco looked at the two figures flanking Duncan, his jaw dropped.
"Mother?" he breathed.
Narcissa and Lucius, dressed in their ankle-length black Death Eater cloaks, stood proudly beside Duncan with an impenetrable face.
DRACO
Duncan's eyes widened and a triumphant smile spread across his face from cheek to cheek. "Mother?" he repeated, stunned.
He blinked several times, twisting his wand between his index finger and thumb. "Wait a second..." he breathed out in disbelief.
Draco couldn't take his eyes off his mother's face. Duncan ran a hand through his blond hair, which fell over his forehead, and pulled it back. Half of his skull tattoo was visible on his neck.
He pointed his wand at Draco, who was still under Blaise's skin, without casting a spell.
"You just said 'Mother'..." he said quietly. "Which makes you…" He laughed in delight, and Lucius joined in. "Draco... Malfoy…! The one I wanted!"
He bit his lower lip, ecstatic. His wand swung towards Hermione, who was still tied up. "Which probably makes you... Hermione Granger. Looking like the ginger friend."
Fuck, Draco thought, slowly coming to his senses. Fuck, fuck, fuck... He'd just revealed their true identity. Hermione was no longer safe. He'd fucked it up. He rushed towards her, but Narcissa came at him, quick as a shadow, and grabbed him by the throat with a steely hand. She held him at arm's length, staring at him in disgust, and Draco did not resist. How could he raise his hand against his mother? His throat was dry, and his stomach was a leaden puddle that weighed down his legs. His mother was with...?
Duncan took a few steps toward Willem's body, placed his sole on his chest, and bent down. He withdrew his knife from his neck with a suction sound that brought a rush of bile to Draco's throat. Beneath his nose, right in front of him, his own mother held him in place with an extremely strong grip, and he knew that if she squeezed any tighter, he'd suffocate.
Duncan wiped the blade of the knife on Willem's coat and walked back to them, slowly, as if thinking. He approached Clive, still paralyzed by magic in the middle of his run, and pointed the tip of his knife at him.
"Which makes you..." he began thoughtfully, "probably not Hermione Granger. "Maybe the real ginger?" he added, pointing the knife at Hermione, who still looked like Ginny. "A little switch between the girls?"
Duncan's cold blue eyes finally landed on Fergus. "And you, you're not the Malfoy heir…" He exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, and shook his head dejectedly. "I have to say, you almost fooled me!" he winked in the direction of the tied up Hermione.
"Mackie..." Fergus gritted his teeth.
The next second, Fergus threw an offensive spell at Duncan, which Lucius blocked. Instead of counterattacking Fergus, Duncan pointed his wand at Clive.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The deadly green curse hit Clive in the chest, and he could do nothing at all to defend himself. His body fell to the grass, stiff as a board, his head smashing into a grave. If the spell had not miraculously killed him, the impact against the stone had. "Hermione's" body gradually lost its magic and the corpse took on Clive's true appearance.
"CLIVE!" roared Fergus. "YOU BASTARD!" He shot a spell at Duncan, rage twisting his features, but Duncan deflected it. Again, easily.
Suddenly, a purple spell flashed between the graves and hit Hermione's wrists. The bonds around them snapped and Hermione didn't hesitate to bend down and pick up her wand. At the same time she reached into her bra and pulled out the coin. She activated it. Lucius hurriedly pointed his wand at her to engage in a duel.
"Draco!" Hermione shouted in Ginny's voice, shoving the coin into her pocket. "They're not your parents!"
Duncan turned his head to see who had cast the purple spell, but there was no one else. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he continued to scan his surroundings. The next second, he rushed towards Fergus to duel him, and simultaneously, Narcissa and Lucius switched positions, as if they had choreographed this move, to 'swap' opponents. Now Lucius faced Draco, and Narcissa faced Hermione.
HERMIONE
Hermione could feel her face tingling, and she knew that the potion was starting to wear off in her system. Anyway, it was no longer of any use...
She had been able to activate her magic coin, and now she just hoped that someone could come to their aid... Two Aurors were dead. The plan had failed. They were three against three, and Hermione didn't like the foretelling of those odds.
Narcissa Malfoy's sleek blonde hair swirled around her as she attacked with snarl, speed and conviction. Hermione could see her teeth clench and the hateful flames boiling in her eyes. Duncan had had far too much fun with Polyjuice, and she knew that the person she was facing was not Draco's mother. Well, she really hoped it wasn't.
Hermione was focused, not taking her eyes off her opponent. She was able to deflect spells or avoid them with sideways leaps and dodges. She was trying not to let the other two duels in the graveyard distract her, putting aside her worry about Draco.
"You're losing your beautiful red colour," Narcissa sneered.
Hermione ignored her comment, knowing full well that her hair was starting to darken. She continued to cast spell after spell, managing to throw her opponent off balance as she wobbled to her feet before following up with a rather powerful spell. I'm not leaving, Hermione repeated to herself. No matter how things turned out, she would carry on to the end. She wouldn't give up.
The two witches were moving around a lot, and Hermione noticed that some spells were breaking on an invisible barrier of protection right in front of her eyes. But it wasn't coming from her... And Draco was deep in his duel with Lucius and couldn't be focused enough to protect her with his ANTS magic.
A crazy idea appeared like a dawn in her imagination. Could it be...?
"Who are you?" cried Hermione, before wiping the sweat from her forehead.
"You really can't guess, can you?" Narcissa spat.
"Whoever you are, Duncan is just manipula—" Hermione only had time to turn her head to avoid the yellow spell that brushed against her ear and cut a strand of her hair.
"There is no manipulation," Narcissa replied. "I chose this."
Hermione threw a Stupefy with extreme precision and swore when Narcissa managed to duck and dodge it with catlike agility.
"Why?" asked Hermione.
"I don't have to answer you, Mudblood!"
"Your face is starting to change, too, you know?"
Hermione was out of breath but was driving her body to move as fast as if she had all her energy. She didn't want to let her opponent think that she was getting tired and that she could wear her down even more. Protego spells continued to stream around her to protect her from Narcissa's curses and if Hermione squinted, she could see a few spells being directed at Narcissa herself. For a quarter of a second, she saw the tip of a brown shoe against the grass, which disappeared immediately.
"WHO'S HELPING YOU?" shouted Narcissa, running out of patience.
"No idea," Hermione lied, now smirking.
BLAISE
His leg twitched with agitation. Sure, hundreds of scenarios kept running through his mind. He had gone through his first class of the day, never really focusing on what Flitwick was saying, feeling the magic coin over the fabric of his wizard's robe. He would jump up as soon as he felt a vibration, false alarm or not.
At lunch, Ginny and Ron had eaten with him, though none of the three managed to swallow anything. Still no sign of Harry. Ron was pale with worry; Harry had not shown up for his morning class. The Gryffindors and Slytherins had a free period after dinner; deciding not to sit idly by, they split up the castle grounds to look for Harry, just as they had done for Hermione at the beginning of the school year.
Ginny suggested they go to the Heads dorm to see if Harry was waiting for them there.
"Do you know their password?" Blaise asked.
"The password hasn't changed since I became Head Girl," Ginny shrugged.
Blaise looked offended. "Why doesn't Draco tell me anything?"
Ginny gave him a sideways glance. "Come on, you know why he didn't tell you the password..."
"Why not?"
The witch winked at him. "He doesn't want us to use his flat as a... sex lounge."
Blaise laughed, wrapped his arm around Ginny's neck and pulled her to him, planting a kiss against her head. "The man has a point. But I'll hear you say the password anyway."
"I don't think Harry's in the dorm, actually," she said.
The Slytherin sighed, but they continued their walk to the seventh floor. When they got to the portrait of the dorm, they saw no sign of Harry. Ginny began to inspect further down the corridor, but the Gryffindor was not hiding in a crevice of the wall, nor behind the standing knight's armour. Blaise was still absentmindedly fiddling with the magic coin between his fingers.
And suddenly, it vibrated. Just like that. His blood rushed through his veins. At the same time, Ginny spun around and rushed towards him, her eyes wide.
"The... The coin!" she gasped. "Did you feel it?" She was grabbing Blaise's wrist. "Oh my God, Blaise, we have to go! We have to—"
He pointed his wand at her. "Petrificus Totalus," he whispered.
The redhead's body stiffened, but her eyes remained wide open, staring at Blaise in incredulity. Blaise stroked her hair and leaned her gently against the portrait. Yep, he would definitely get a week's worth of detention for this.
"I hope you understand why I can't allow you to come," he said in a low voice. "I will never let anything happen to you."
He kissed her forehead, and dropped his eyes. The urgency pulsed through his blood like a heartbeat. "You'll hate me, I know, and I'll receive all of your insults and curses when I return, I promise."
He placed his mouth on Ginny's motionless lips. Two tears, the only trace of life on the witch's face, slid slowly down her cheeks.
"I love you," he breathed. "I'm sorry."
He turned on his heels without further ado, knowing that it would take a while before a student ventured in front of the Heads dorm and found her. Soon his strides doubled in speed, and he began to run, as fast as he could. He didn't bother to go to his dormitory for other clothes. He ran down the stairs, almost falling several times, and ran through the corridors, ignoring the confused looks of the other students. Blaise Zabini was just a gust of wind, his wizard's robe flapping behind him. He didn't know how much time his friends had. Was it already too late?
He dashed to the front doors, ignoring the call of one or two professors, and raced out. The wind smacked his cheeks and made his eyes water, but he continued his tireless race towards Hogsmeade, where he could apparate. It was the only time he found himself cursing the Anti-Apparition rule in the school.
He hoped that the next Gryffindor wouldn't run into Ginny for a good half hour. Or longer. He dismissed the paralysed face of his beautiful girl from his mind. She would hate him. She would hate him to death. Even if he had confessed his love for the first time. He'd stopped her from acting in a situation where all she'd want to do is act... And he'd deprived her of that right. But the more he thought about it, the more he tried to convince himself that it was the best decision. It was too dangerous.
The village was growing by the minute. Blaise continued his race without respite. He already had the wand clutched between his fingers. As soon as he would apparate and land, he would be ready to act. He hoped his Apparating would be accurate. He had already been to the graveyard; two of his mother's ex-husbands were buried there.
A taste of rust filled his mouth under the strain of his lungs, which begged him to stop. But he continued, panting, refusing to take a break. The coin had vibrated fifteen minutes ago... Anything could happen in fifteen minutes.
As soon as he crossed the village gate, he stopped dead in his tracks, his heels skidding against the ground. Chiswick Graveyard. Chiswick Graveyard. He breathed three times before Apparating. Chiswick Graveyard. He landed in the very centre of the graveyard.
Immediately he ducked to avoid a spell that Ginny, with brown hair, had just cast on Narcissa. Narcissa?
Duncan was dueling 'Draco', and Lucius Malfoy was dueling his own look-alike, dark skin and all, who he knew to be the real Draco.
He finally noticed the three corpses and his heart shook with the horror of the wounds. His stomach churned. There was a young woman he had never seen before, with her throat slit and open, and the wound reminded him of minced, blood-soaked meat. And two men. Two Aurors. One bloodstained, one unscathed. Both dead.
He assessed the situation, trying to determine who needed his help more. If he stood there in the middle like that, he'd end up caught in the crossfire, literally. So he began to move, casting spells towards the figures of Duncan, Narcissa and Lucius.
"I'm glad you're finally joining us!" his look-alike, Draco, shouted.
Lucius turned his head and saw him. A cruel smile changed his features. "The real Zab is here? Ah, that's even better!"
Blaise met Lucius's gaze and had the strange impression that he already knew who was hiding under the man's skin. Fuck.
DRACO
Lucius' first move in the duel was to punch Draco directly in the jaw. Draco's head spun sideways from the blow, and a hot, rusty liquid flowed into his mouth. He spat out his blood.
"My father is in prison," he growled, wiping his mouth.
"Oh, really?" the man retorted.
"Whatever game you're playing, it won't work on me."
He cast his first spell, a Stupefy, which Lucius dismissed with a wave of his wand. "Try harder!" Lucius shouted, before counterattacking with a spell that was propelled with great force.
Draco parried it with ease. "Mackie likes playing with Polyjuice too much..." he spat. "Time for him to find another way to mess with people."
"But it works, you have to admit!" Lucius retaliated with a non-verbal spell that Draco barely dodged, flattening himself to the ground behind a grave. The stone shattered into a thousand pieces. He was just getting up when Lucius cast another spell in his direction, but this time Draco had no time to react. A protective barrier rose up in front of his nose at the same time that Lucius' spell broke against it. Draco didn't have time to look at who had cast the protective spell on him, but he blessed them inwardly.
Every time he stepped back to put some distance between himself and Lucius, Lucius came closer. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Eventually, Draco stumbled against Ivana's stiff foot, whose body still sprawled on the grass, and thought he heard a horrible cracking sound that he did his best to ignore. I'm sorry, he thought, I'm sorry...
Another deafening crack echoed through the graveyard, and Draco saw the figure of Blaise appear.
"I'm glad you're finally joining us!" he exclaimed to him, before turning his attention back to his fight.
But Lucius looked at Blaise and smiled. "The real Zab is here? Ah, that's even better!"
He leapt forward and managed to land another punch right in Draco's stomach. The air left Draco's lungs, and he fell back, suffocating for a few blinding seconds.
"You know," Lucius growled, "you could have more, Draco... Power. Glory. The submission of others."
Draco panted, clenching his fists. He leapt to his feet, and with the speed of light, slammed his fist under Lucius' chin. A perfect uppercut. Lucius staggered backwards, stunned, before massaging his jaw.
"You're insane," Draco hissed.
Lucius spat out a tooth, coated in blood, which fell to the grass. "You really think you're redeemed, don't you?"
"Experlliarmus!" Draco shouted.
Lucius blocked the spell with a wave of his wand. He ignored the blood on his chin, which was dripping down his chest, and let his lip bleed. His stern features, the features Draco knew by heart, were beginning to change too.
"Do you really think you've changed?" Lucius continued. "That you're a new person?"
"Stupefy!" The spell was blocked in the same way. Draco did not give up, not taking his eyes off his opponent.
"Crabbe would have applauded you to the end," Lucius hissed, his expression disgusted.
Draco's hand tightened around his wand and he bit his tongue. He blinked. "Goyle?"
"Lucius" finally wiped his mouth, leaving a trace of blood on his cheek. His hair was no longer blonde either. His features were slowly returning to their original shape. He let Draco scrutinize him, as if he was proud of his appearance, which was returning to normal.
Draco's lips parted, and a gulp of cold air entered his throat. He hadn't seen Goyle since... the Room of Requirement. As soon as they'd managed to escape, leaving Crabbe's body to burn in the Fiendfyre behind them.
"Join us, Draco," said Goyle.
There was a howl elsewhere in the graveyard, hoarse and painful. Draco turned his head for a few seconds and saw Fergus with his back to the ground, his arm crushed under Duncan's sole. Draco didn't hesitate for a second. He shouted a spell at Duncan, who wasn't even looking at him, and he lost his balance, thus releasing Fergus. But Goyle took advantage of this moment to cast a spell against Draco, which hit him in the chest and sent him flying several metres away.
Draco's body fell with a thud against the grass, and he was unable to get up immediately. He heard Goyle's throaty laughter as he approached.
Draco blinked several times, clearing the leaden fog that enveloped his entire head. A headache was now pulsing against his temples. He stood up, rather painfully, shaking the dirt from his coat. He swallowed his bile and did not resist the rage that rooted itself like a funeral seed inside him.
"You know Goyle, now you've pissed me off," he hissed.
He charged headfirst at him.
HERMIONE
Hermione had just noticed Blaise's appearance and continued to battle against Narcissa. The woman was clearly getting exhausted, if Hermione was to judge by her panting, sweaty brow, and deliberately slower movements. Her reflexes were becoming less and less effective and Hermione was beginning to get the better of her.
Narcissa had managed to slap and kick her a few times, but Hermione had been able to reciprocate with a fierceness she didn't recognize. She knew that she had regained her full original appearance a while ago.
Narcissa's size was getting smaller and smaller, but Hermione wanted the satisfaction of guessing her true identity before the Polyjuice wore off — she didn't know why.
"Drop your cowardice!" Hermione shouted, as 'Narcissa' remained hidden behind the trunk of the elm tree. "Tell me who you are!"
"You always want to know everything, don't you, Miss-Know-it-all?" spat Narcissa.
Hermione threw a spell vehemently in her direction, which crashed into the trunk and sent bark flying into pieces. "Tell me who you are!" she repeated, moving closer to the trunk.
Narcissa had stopped counter-attacking several minutes ago, concentrating on avoiding the spells that Hermione kept casting with furor. Another spell flashed from the tip of Hermione's wand and the bark splintered again.
"If you tell me, maybe I can help you!" she said.
She heard Narcissa laugh sarcastically. "You're no better than Potter and his hero complex."
Hermione heard a howl in the graveyard that startled her and she whirled around. The panic she felt at the thought of Draco's lifeless body never left her since the beginning. It was Fergus she saw, trapped on the ground under Duncan's sole. Her heart leapt into her chest. They couldn't lose him too... She didn't have time to react when she heard a grunt from the trunk, and a thud. Narcissa had just been tackled to the ground.
"Harry, what are you doing?" gasped Hermione.
When she had seen a shoe floating in the air, she knew it was him. She almost knew his wardrobe by heart; it hadn't changed much in the last few years. Harry had arrived, probably before them, at the graveyard, under his invisibility cloak, and had waited for the right moment to start intervening, remaining hidden.
"She was going to pounce on you," he said breathlessly.
Harry was straddling Narcissa, preventing her from moving, his hands tightly gripping her wrists. Narcissa was trying to wriggle free.
"A little help?" squeaked Harry.
Hermione rushed over to him and knelt down right behind Narcissa's head and grabbed her wrists. Harry proceeded to trap her legs. The brunette didn't want to use a paralysis spell, as she wanted to make her talk.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance, Mudblood!" spat Narcissa. "I had so many chances to grab you and squeeze your stupid little throat in my hands. Choking you like a fucking rat!"
Hermione frowned and widened her eyes as the realisation crossed her mind. "Pansy?" she blurted out.
"You bitch!" screamed Narcissa, trying to get away again.
"How did you get out of Azkaban?" asked Hermione.
Finally, Narcissa's stern features were beginning to morph. Discomfort twisted her face. Sometimes the transformation was more painful than others.
"The how is not important," she retorted, glaring back at Hermione. "Duncan didn't leave me there to rot. He loves me."
Hermione laughed an angry, pitying laugh. "You can't really believe that."
Pansy's face was becoming more and more recognizable. Hermione's thoughts were racing, like a carousel run amok with a broken mechanism. Looking up, she saw that Blaise, flanked by Fergus - who had also returned to his normal appearance - was locked in a fight with Duncan. Fergus looked very weak, only by his posture. Blaise had obviously come to his aid. A little further on, when Hermione squinted, she could see Draco heavily involved in a fist fight with... Goyle?
Duncan, Pansy and Goyle.
A new murderous trio.
Pansy opened her mouth and started to blabber on, but Hermione was no longer listening, watching the two fights that were taking place between the graves. Spells were flying from all sides, and everyone was moving quickly. Who should she run to? Should she assist Blaise and Fergus in stopping Duncan, or help Draco so he wouldn't... die?
Fergus' body crashed suddenly to the ground, and he stopped moving. But the spell that had hit him was not green, and Hermione guessed that he had probably just lost consciousness. Duncan's figure blurred, and black smoke curled around him. Hermione had time to see a victorious and wicked smile stick to his mouth before his face disappeared under a mask of smoke that she had seen Death Eaters wear before.
"No!" she breathed, to herself.
Duncan began to rise a few feet above the ground, the thick smoke flowing to the ground like storm clouds blacker than night.
BLAISE
That son of a bitch. Blaise was convinced Duncan had just broken the Auror's arm by ramming his shoe directly into the crook of his elbow. Blaise thought he heard a crack, followed by a screech that sounded like a wounded animal. Duncan had the upper hand on the last Auror. And he couldn't let him.
A spell had hit Duncan and he'd stumbled back. Blaise had rushed into the fight, stepping between the Auror's body and the fallen Duncan to give the Auror time to get up.
"Well, well, well," Duncan spat, massaging his neck.
He cracked his neck, turning it to his right shoulder, crack, then his left shoulder, crack. "Zabini showed up," he said.
"I missed you," Blaise retorted.
"Don't talk to him!" hissed the Auror behind him.
A spell flew over Blaise's shoulder to Duncan, but he stepped aside to avoid it. Blaise could hear the Auror wheezing behind him.
"Kid, get out of here," the Auror demanded. "This isn't your fight."
Blaise ignored him and continued to look at Duncan. He could see the sheath of his knife hanging from his belt. If he could keep an eye on his knife and wand, he'd be all right. Duncan didn't move for several seconds, and Blaise guessed with a hint of satisfaction that some fatigue had begun to creep into his muscles. All humans had their limits.
"Wanna know what I'm going to do to your friends?" Duncan said, in a low voice.
He didn't wait for an answer before continuing. He pointed his wand to the right, where Narcissa and Hermione were still fighting near the elm tree. "If Pansy doesn't get rid of that Mudblood, I'll finish her off myself. For good. And I'll make sure you watch."
A volcanic rage rumbled inside Blaise and he clenched his fists.
"Don't let him talk!" the Auror shouted.
Duncan pointed his wand to the left, where Draco and Goyle were fighting with a mixture of punches and spells. Blaise could see the blood dripping from his friend's nose. He inhaled sharply and glared at Duncan.
"Goyle is just trying to distract him so he doesn't get in the way of my partner's attempt to defeat the Mudblood. You see, Draco is supposed to join us. Together we're going to crown a new Lord."
Blaise's mouth went dry. "What?" he rasped.
"Shut up!" the Auror yelled, pushing Blaise aside to take the lead.
He held his wand out to Duncan and began to cast spells again, skillful and powerful, but the tall blonde man wasn't as damaged as the Auror and managed to dodge everything without even lifting his wand. Blaise blinked a few times before shaking himself back to himself. He re-engaged the fight, throwing well-aimed attacks at Duncan. But he was deflecting everything. Absolutely everything. He had no time to counterattack, but he excelled in the art of dodging.
Blaise could feel the anger pounding in his blood like a frantic pulse. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his left hand and cast spell after spell with his right. But that son of a bitch was still too fast. The reservoir of spell knowledge in Blaise's head was running out. He kept repeating the same spells, but nothing seemed to really break through the psychopath's defences.
Eventually Duncan managed to launch a counterattack, which hit the Auror in the chest, and he went down. And as soon as Blaise noticed the first wisps of smoke curling around Duncan, he knew what was coming.
"Showtime," said Duncan playfully.
Blaise couldn't let this happen. Either Duncan was going to escape, again, or he was planning an attack from above, which would be much harder to stop and would reduce their chances of defeating him.
Blaise didn't think for a second and dashed towards Goyle and Draco, jumping over or around the graves. He arrived at light speed from the side and tackled Goyle to the ground, ignoring the pain that crashed through his body like a shock wave.
"Duncan!" he shouted at Draco, pinning Goyle to the ground as best he could. "NOW!"
He snatched the wand from Goyle and handed it to Draco. "Use this one!"
Draco's eyes went wide, his shoulders heaving with his rapid breathing.
"NOW!" Blaise urged through clenched teeth.
DRACO
Draco clutched Goyle's wand in his hand and looked up, finally noticing Duncan's shadowy form rising above the graveyard. His eyes caught Hermione's, who had reverted to her old self. Her gaze probed him from a distance. Thirty meters or so. Draco could see no one but her, as if all his peripheral vision was blurry except for her figure.
She nodded, as if she had already guessed everything. "Do it!" she shouted. "I know you can do it!"
Draco didn't answer, as if he needed her permission even more.
"Do what you have to do!" she yelled. "Quick!"
Their eyes remained locked together for a tiny eternity, in which they both silently communicated. A grin stretched the corner of Draco's mouth. He tucked his own wand into his pocket and raised Goyle's to his face. The next moment, a mask of smoke settled over his face, cool as a night wind. Slowly, Draco filled his head with two words. Fuga Tenebris. He had not invoked them in ages, and the familiar feeling of airiness enveloped him. The black, opaque smoke concealed him from neck to toe, wrapping itself like a snake around his body.
"Duncan has no idea what awaits him," Blaise grunted behind him.
Draco turned to him, a creature of shadow and smoke. "Damn right, Zabini. Playtime."
The next moment, Draco Malfoy was soaring through the sky, leaving a trail of dense smoke behind him like a meteor tearing through the clouds. No time for games. No time for pity. He raced after Mackie, twirling around with stamina and speed. He was not afraid of heights. The graveyard was now just a small green canvas beneath them.
"It's over now, Mackie!" he shouted, his voice carried by the wind.
He heard him laugh. "Catch me if you can!"
Draco increased his speed, drawing closer to his opponent, close enough to grab his heels, but he pointed Goyle's wand at him instead. Blaise knew that his own wand didn't react well to dark magic spells, as it had a unicorn hair core. But not Goyle's...
"You want to fight like a dark wizard?" Draco bellowed, his breath creating a swirl of air among the black smoke. "I'll show you how a dark wizard fights when his witch is threatened! FIGHT ME!"
Immediately, as if obeying him, Duncan turned and dashed at him. They collided violently, each trying to take control of the flight trajectory. They scraped the tops of some trees further into the city, and the branches slashed at their limbs. Draco slid one of his hands against Duncan's waist, groping for the knife sheath.
"Oh, definitely not!" Duncan spat.
Duncan's hand reached for his wrist, but Draco's fingers were already on the knife hilt. He didn't let go. He took advantage of Duncan's other hand gripping the collar of his coat to point his wand, which was in his free hand, at the man's belt. It snapped, and Draco pulled on it. It fell into the void, dragging the deadly weapon with it.
Duncan roared in anger, before smashing his head against Draco's nose. The pain exploded into a multitude of agonizing sparks in his head and blood spurted from his nose. He was sure his nose had just broken. The blood ran down to the underside of his chin, hot, quickly cooled by the wind. They continued to swirl in the sky, both wrapped in a dark cloud of smoke.
"I came here for you, Draco," Duncan said, with a twisted gleam in his eye. "I knew your Mudblood would show up for her brother's birthday, and I knew you'd be with her."
"What do you want from me?" Draco growled.
"The world needs a Lord!"
"The world needs you gone!"
"You're still shapeable! I can teach everything you need to know to become the next Dark Lord. You already have the skills, the looks, the pure blood and the cruelty. I'll take you under my wing, I'll make you rise from the ashes and make you even more powerful than our fallen Master. Stay with me, and I'll let her survive."
Draco pushed Duncan's body away, and he flew away, coated in smoke, making a semicircle in the sky, following Duncan's path with his eyes. The tip of his wand aimed at the shadow and he cast a spell at the exact spot he calculated Duncan would reach in three seconds. The spell did indeed hit Duncan hard, and his body was blasted away, whirling around. He heard his howls of rage.
"You know, we may have had the same tutor," Draco cried, loud enough for him to hear, "but I knew all your spells and tricks before you could say 'Quidditch'."
Duncan came back to him, smoke billowing around him like a dark aura. Draco avoided him, and so began this game of cat and mouse.
"You may be proud of being trained by Bellatrix Lestrange," Draco continued, his tone mocking, "but don't you dare forget that Auntie Bella has been training me since I was born. Lucius Malfoy has been training me since I was born. Severus Snape has been training me since I entered Hogwarts. You are NOTHING compared to me!"
Duncan cast a spell against Draco, which he dodged with a non-verbal Protego. "If you're so good," Duncan snarled, "then how come your Mudblood almost died at my hand?"
Draco's blood surged through his veins. "Don't even mention her name! Crucio!"
The spell hit Duncan, but only at the ankle, and only a muffled grunt escaped his throat. Draco swirled through the sky, as nimble as if he were on a broom, and leapt backwards, casting a series of continuous spells at Duncan. The latter struggled to parry them one after the other, but Draco soldiered on, fiercer than ever, and repeated his Crucio.
This time the spell hit Duncan in the chest and he plummeted to the ground. Draco dived for him and grabbed him, dragging him back over the graveyard, where he dropped him several feet into the air. Duncan's body, shrouded in smoke, fell from the sky like a fallen angel and crashed to the ground just in front of the elm tree.
Draco landed in front of Duncan. The smoke had cushioned his fall, and Duncan didn't seem to have anything broken, though his face was contorted with exhaustion and pain. Hermione, Blaise and Harry rushed towards them, but stayed back. Pansy and Goyle were motionless, paralysed, half hidden by the graves.
Draco pointed Goyle's wand at Duncan.
"You know, Crucio doesn't really suit me," he said coldly. "It's too... simple-minded. There's no pleasure in it... the person loses consciousness after a while."
He fired a curse that made the blood freeze in his veins. Duncan screamed as the hex hit him and his knees buckled beneath him. Draco knew the spell didn't have the same effect as the torture spell. The agony was worse.
"How are you feeling?" the Slytherin hissed through his teeth. "How does it feel to be in pain?"
He did not wait for an answer before casting a curse that made the blood boil in his veins. Duncan's face contorted into an inhuman shape, and sheer agony rippled down his throat. His screams of pain gave Draco a morbid thrill. He'd finally gotten the better of that scum.
"You like to kill, Mackie?" he snarled. "You want to play with the big boys now?"
Duncan's shoulders heaved under his now wheezing breath. He'd dropped his wand, but his smile returned as he looked up at Draco. "Good boy," he rasped, his voice husky. "You're everything that we need."
"I will never, ever be your ally. Or your Lord. Go fuck yourself!"
He cast another curse on Duncan, this time making sure to aim at his chest. Immediately Duncan clamped a hand to his heart and began to cough. Blood poured out of his mouth, down his nose, out of his ears, and out of his eyes. Draco tightened his grip on his wand.
"How does it feel to drown in blood?" he enunciated, each word as sharp as a blade.
Duncan opened his mouth and a thick, ruddy pool of blood spewed out. He leaned forward, dropping onto his forearms, and spat, coughed, choked.
"Draco..." Hermione let out behind him.
Draco didn't break eye contact with Duncan, admiring his panicked jerks. The sight of the blood flowing from him was like a promise fulfilled. The blood was flowing back to the soil. Vengeance was finally being served. Justice was being restored. And it felt good.
"You spilled blood," Draco muttered. "Too much blood."
"Draco..."
A hand rested on his arm. Soft. Like a petal on his skin.
HERMIONE
Draco blinked and finally seemed to realise that Hermione was in front of him, just a little to the left, leaving Duncan still in full view. Her face was a little swollen in places, probably from a few blows, and there was a cut on her eyebrow, and one on her chin. She was calm, self-controlled.
"Let me talk to him," she said.
"No," he refused.
"Look around you, Draco. Blaise and Harry are there, wands pointed at him. There are four of us, and he's alone. He's weak. He's defeated. Let me talk to him."
"Hermione..."
She swallowed the knot in her throat. "I need to talk to him," she declared, a little more firmly.
It was more than that. She needed to look her brother's killer in the eye and see him surrender. To witness his defeat as it unfolded before her. Part of her wanted him dead, part of her preferred to send him to Azkaban, where he would probably get the Dementor's kiss.
Blaise reached out and grabbed Draco's shoulder, motioning him to back away. Draco complied and stepped back, but still held his wand out towards Duncan. The psychopath was still on his hands and knees on the floor, a thread of blood and saliva dripping from his chin. The tears of blood that had dripped from his eyes glistened on either side of his nose like two red lines.
Hermione thanked her boyfriend with her eyes and turned to Duncan. Behind her, the three boys had given her space, but all had their wands pointed at the killer in front of the large elm tree.
The brunette approached from a safe distance and crouched down to his level. She could see the same cruelty in his eyes that she'd detected that night in the Forest. She swallowed her anguish.
"Duncan," she said, her voice low. "You don't have to do this... Stop trying."
He really did look messed up and weak, and a part of her was glad to see him like that, at the bottom of the pit trying to claw his way up. She almost wanted to take her wand and inflict more pain on him, to see his features contort under the same pain he had caused her, Samuel, Ivana, and his dozens of muggles and Muggleborns.
She shook the morbid feeling off and looked at him with pity.
He spat disdainfully at her feet. "Burn in hell, you bitch," he hissed.
Hermione heard the crunch of grass behind her, as if someone had just shifted.
"I know you want control, but it will only end up destroying you!"
"Shut up!" he shouted, trying to get up as best he could.
Hermione noticed that he had picked up his wand in the process, but she pretended not to notice. He was like a trapped and wounded animal, trying to bite anyone who wanted to help him.
"If you surrender now of your own free will," she continued, "the Wizengamot may reconsider the severity of your sentence." She doubted it, but she had to try.
"Wizards, humans, muggles," he grunted, wobbling on his feet. "I'll bury everyone. Dust returns to dust, and power to power."
Hermione frowned, trying to make sense of his words. "You're defeated, Duncan," she said, almost softly. "Surrender. You've lost."
Duncan looked up at her and smiled, revealing blood-stained teeth. "I can't be defeated," he spat. "Don't you know? Wizards, humans, muggles... Perdition awaits everyone, the Reaper will fetch your wicked soul. Damnation. You, the Mudbloods, will suffer the ultimate anathema. You will be sunk into oblivion. And all wizards, humans, and muggles who oppose it will burn at the pyre. The poison will be atoned for."
Hermione's heart was pounding against her chest. "Why did you really kill him?" she huffed. "Sam?"
"I told you. The ultimate anathema. You kill a Pureblood, you die at the hand of a Pureblood. An eye for an eye. A life for a life."
"The world cannot function on this principle..."
"Without principles, what are we left with?"
Hermione blinked. "Everything," she murmured.
Silence fell in the graveyard, and the wind whistled through the silent graves. Duncan's eyelids flickered occasionally, as if his eyes were about to pop back into their sockets. But he shook himself and remained conscious, his icy blue eyes locked on the brunette's face. The silence dragged on, stretching out like a quilt spread across the gravestones. Ten, twenty, forty seconds passed, and Duncan's features grew tighter and tighter under the dawn of a new conviction. Murderous.
"I will never be defeated," he said. "But if I am, then so are you. Avada Kedavra!"
His spell, green and glittering, rocketed towards Hermione and bounced against an invisible barrier she had not erected. The ANTS, she guessed. At the same time as he spoke his Curse, she had been quicker than him and shouted:
"Stupefy!"
Behind her, three voices exclaimed at the same time:
"Expelliarmus!"
"Reducto!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The four spells struck Duncan in the chest and the impact sent him flying backwards, and he slammed into the elm. His head collided with the trunk, and his body slid limply to the ground, motionless, at an unnatural angle. Immediately someone grabbed her wrist and the next thing she knew she was cradled in Draco's arms.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm right here. You're alright. You're alright."
Draco held her tenderly, even though she felt him shaking like a leaf. Blaise walked carefully to the trunk, knelt down in front of Duncan's body and poked him with the tip of his wand. He inspected him for a few moments and felt his pulse. He stood up, his face impassive.
"He's dead."
Hearing these words, this confirmation, all the pressure drained from Hermione's chest and she burst into tears. This time she was firmly held as she allowed herself to fall apart, one relieved sob at a time.
"But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated."
Ernest Hemingway
oOoOoOoOoOo
This is it. Meaning that this is really the end of Duncan/Mackie, and even tho I live for plot twists and cliffhangers, I promise you it's over ; he is not coming back from the grave, he is not faking, he is simply and irrevocably dead. I know a LOT happened in that chapter and I truly hope you were not too lost with the Polyjuice scams. I know a lot of my plot twists relied on Polyjuice scams, the only reason is because Mackie enjoyed playing with people and tricking them. It's not because I was lazy as a writer to find something a more shocking reason to why "Cissy" showed up, for example.
I've already started writing chapter 41. I hope I can post it next week. Reminded that Chapter 42 will be the Epilogue.
Axiomea