A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, follows and favourites. I am so glad you're enjoying this. There's so much planned for this. As always, you can find me on tumblr at 'asirensrage' for the occasional moodboard, prompt and headcanon about this 'verse.

Chapter 11: Not Alone

It is easy to bury herself in her work. Hermione can ignore the way her hands shake and how the memories linger in the back of her mind. She does not want to think about it. If she closes her eyes, she can almost hear Bellatrix's laugh again.

"Ms. Grankova."

She whirls instantly, wand at the ready and a curse upon her lips.

Kirigan is standing in her doorway, staring at her hand pointedly.

Hermione looks down and flinches at the sight. The realization that she revealed herself, was ready to play her hand at a threat that was not there, settles around her. She pulls back on her magic, calming it back down. "General."

He watches her for a moment. "You should be more vigilant in your caution, Miss Granger." There is a pause before he continues. "I was informed you met Baghra."

Hermione's hand tightens slightly on her wand and she tucks the wood away. "I did."

"You were quite correct to tell her that you did not have lessons scheduled with her." He glances around the room before he moves towards her. "She taught me when I was young."

"And she is still here?" Hermione asks because there needs to be a reason why this woman who teaches through stress remains.

"There is no real pension for Grisha," he tells her. "We must give her a job to do but her methods are not appropriate for most students. She takes those who are blocked in using their gifts or unable to progress and is set in her ways." He reaches over and touches the open field guide. It is designed to appear faded, illegible with water damage, to muggles. To other magicals, it delivers a small shock and encourages them to ignore it. Those that press receive much worse. It is spelled to protect itself from anyone but her. His eyebrows rise but he does not comment on it as he pulls away. "She mostly makes a nuisance of herself with her copious spare time. She is a sour woman stuck in the past and thinks that nothing will get better for Grisha so we should not try. Life is suffering and trying to prevent it or rise above our station is folly." She can hear the acid in his tone at that.

Somehow, she is not surprised by his words. Of course, the woman does not believe that action can solve something. Complacency like those back home. It sets her teeth on edge. "I see."

He stares at her for a moment as though he does not believe she is so easily subdued in her opinion. He would be right. "In the interest of our common goal, you need to be aware that Baghra is another Shadow Summoner. She taught me when I was a child. She does not have the same love of Grisha or care for Ravka as I have, so whatever you think best to defend yourself and your secrets from one such as myself should be done as soon as may be." There is another moment of silence before he continues. "I would not have you think I am depriving you of information," he then smiles coldly. "And I will speak with her. She should not accost you in such a manner again."

As though Hermione would allow it. Still, she nods slightly, trying not to betray the tension in her spine. "Thank you. Now, if you would be so kind, I am in the middle of something." It is a lie but one he does not need to know.

He tilts his head in acknowledgement. "Forgive my intrusion." He does not push further and Hermione watches his retreat. She turns back to her studies, ignoring the way the silence of the room presses in on her.


She does not sleep. She loses track of time in her room. She has not left since the General made his appearance. In an effort to escape her own memories, she wards the room with herself in it. It is the only thing that keeps her magic from lashing out. She has yet to fully counteract Kirigan's power and the knowledge that there is another with it, one who likely knows the palace like the back of her hand, eats at her already fragile sense of security.

After casting several revelios to expose every possible entrance or spyhole, only an extra servant's door is revealed. She carves runes into her walls, the doorjambs, the window casings, the hearth and mantle. Even her furniture. They are not overt or large by any manner but having them there, etched into the foundations of the room makes her feel slightly better. It is an easy thing to ward them further, hiding them under simple colour changes and notice-me-not spells.

Hermione has always liked her hair. It is one of the things that makes her her. But in the dark, with the shadows moving from the fire, a glimpse of her reflection reminds her of the shape of Bellatrix. Hermione nearly snarls at herself when she cannot stop herself from recoiling at it. Too much light will draw attention to her window so she cannot banish the reminder in such a fashion. She blackens the mirrors instead.


"Maya?" There is someone at her door. It cuts through her concentration. She has not been awake long. She finally slept, exhausted and feeling secure enough to do so.

"Maya?" The voice is slightly muffled behind her magic. "I know you're awake. Open the door."

Hermione hopes they at least come bearing tea. She pulls down some of her wards to allow them entry but leaves one that will bar admittance to those with ill will. She tries not to show the regret at the action or the desire she has to bar herself further in her suite.

She opens the door slowly.

Ivan and Fedyor are standing on the other side. The latter smiles automatically but it falters once he actually sees her.

"Ms. Grankova," Ivan says. "Perhaps this conversation would take place best inside."

Hermione nods and moves aside. They enter and Fedyor closes the door behind them. Ivan looks around but Fedyor turns to her.

"You have not been present at meals. We were worried."

Ivan does not look like he agrees but he does not argue it either. Hermione frowns slightly. "Two meals is not a cause of concern," she says. Truthfully, she does not entirely know how many she has missed in the last few days. It is not a hard thing to slip back into.

"May I?" Ivan asks, motioning to her hand. She gives him her non-dominant hand. Hermione half wishes to pull out her wand but they would not have been admitted if they were a danger to her. He pinches the skin on the back of her hand, pulling it up slightly before he lets go. He watches it carefully before he releases her and moves. She blinks in surprise when he crosses to the table that holds a jug of water and pours some in a cup.

He brings it to her. "Drink." He stares her down until she takes it from him and does as he asks. "You are dehydrated."

"I am fine." She says, though as soon as she tastes the water, she realizes how thirsty she is. She drinks more and Ivan relaxes slightly. He looks at Fedyor.

"You have missed many," Fedyor says. "The last four and more previous. Your attendance was excused when it was few, but Maya–Hermione," he corrects himself. "You need to eat. If only for your strength."

"You are not taking care of yourself," Ivan added bluntly.

"I'm fine," she repeats. "I have my emergency stores. I have been busy keeping to the schedule and learning."

"You are as bad as our General, there is no emergency," Ivan says. "You are scraping yourself thin. What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," she snaps. She takes a deep breath. They do not deserve her anger and she cannot be certain that it is openly known that Baghra is another shadow summoner. Though something about it pricks at her brain. "I'm sorry. This has nothing to do with you. There is so much to learn and the work is…it feels overwhelming. I do not have infinite time and the longer it takes me to solve this problem, the more lives are lost."

Fedyor frowns slightly as she talks. Ivan however goes back to the door. He snaps at someone outside to fetch a maid. He motions for them to wait at the door and Fedyor moves before she can. He hands Ivan the container that holds her dirty laundry. Ivan demands they bring food and when they leave, he closes the door again. He moves past her, going deeper into her room.

"What-what are you doing?" she demands. She is unused to being overrun and having someone else take the control from her, especially in her own room.

"He is trying to help," Fedyor says softly. "Let him."

There is the sound of running water before he returns to them. "You will bathe," Ivan says. "And when you are finished, you will eat dinner with us."

"You can't–"

He cuts her off. "You should be honoured. As we eat, you will listen to how Fedyor and I met and how I wooed him to be my husband. Understood?"

"You wooed me?" Fedyor asks. "Are you forgetting how that happened? We would have never been more than cordial if it was up to you."

"After," Ivan says.

Fedyor grins at him before looking at Hermione. "Go on. I want to hear how this man thinks he wooed me."

There is no arguing. She can recognize the look on Ivan's face. She has seen that steadfast resolution before in Harry and Ron.

"Fine," she says before moving to the bath. She closes the curtains and automatically bespells them to ensure that no one can see her. It is a move she has done a million times in that tent.


It does not take long. Hermione is not one to languish in a bath, not when there is work to be done and especially not when people are waiting on her. She dries and dresses quickly, attempting to wrangle her hair into a braid as she walks back into the main room of her suite.

She feels…a little more human. Less out of sorts. She feels exhausted and hasn't been completely honest, but she meant what she said. She cannot stop when there are lives on the line.

She does pause though at the sight of Fedyor staring at some of the runes on the fireplace, dust rag in his hands. Ivan is setting up the table. He motions for her to sit when he sees her.

She sits where he tells her to and Fedyor puts the rag in the empty laundry basket that was replaced before joining them. There is a table between them loaded with some covered dishes. "Thank you."

Fedyor smiles at her as he motions for her to eat. "It's already been tested. Enjoy."

She glances around. The bed has been stripped and remade. The room is brighter and the air seems fresher. It is as if they opened her windows while she was gone.

"I believe I was promised a story?" she prompts as she reaches for the utensils. Hermione looks towards Ivan who sighs slightly and looks to the man next to him. Fedyor takes a bite of the food in front of him before smiling.

"I met Fedyor when he came for training…"

She eats as she listens to the usually stoic man tell of their meeting and how his interest grew quickly.

"He had superior manual dexterity," Ivan says in a near stoic tone. Fedyor looks up at him and she catches the slight confusion in his expression. Ivan continues. "And this is what first caught my eye. We did not know each other well, but as we spent a considerable amount of time together, I was wooed by his talents in dissecting our specimens with great delicacy."

"Really?" Hermione asks skeptically. She could see how that would be appealing, though maybe not the specimen part.

Ivan nods. "No one else was able to separate the layers of sinew from offal as he did. I vowed to bring my own skills up to scratch before he was swept away by another suitor who was surely unworthy of him."

Fedyor chokes slightly at that. He waves away the concern though and takes a drink instead. Suspicion rises.

"You expected competition?" Hermione has spent many moments in Viktor's company and she is suddenly reminded of how fans constantly vied for his attention regardless of his relationship with her.

"How could I not? That he mastered healing, as well as being a talented Heartrender, lit such a fire in my loins." Ivan leans forward slightly, eyes on her. "I know you will keep this confession of my highest regard for my beloved with the reverence it deserves Hermione."

"Of course," she says automatically.

Fedyor starts laughing. "I apologize," he says, wiping at his face with one of the napkins available. "My love, you should not tease so."

"Who is to say I was not in awe of you. Your strong stomach in the face of decay is unmatched."

It's that line that breaks Hermione. She leans back, laughing at the sheer confidence of it. Fedyor joins her.

"A fire–" he cracks up further.

When they finally stop, she sees Ivan. He is watching them both, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, melting back into her chair as she does so. The anxiety that was consuming her settles somewhat as Fedyor tells her the apparent real story. Hermione pulls her feet up and tucks them under her as she listens. She falls asleep in the chair.


"Ms. Grankova, if you will accompany me?"

She looks up from her book to see the General standing there. It is not yet time for her lesson with him, but she cannot refuse. Not in public. "Of course." She nods and goes through the process of closing her book after making a note of where she is in the text and leaving it in her basket so it will not be reshelved with her discards. Order must be maintained in Konstantin's territory.

He does not say anything further as they leave the library but he does not lead her toward anywhere she recognizes. The sunlight is harsh as they exit the building. How long has it been since she'd been outside? Since they trekked to the Grand Palace? She makes a mental note to go out more. She likely needs the vitamin d to help stabilize her mood among other benefits.

They walk, ignoring the stares and few murmurs that follow their wake. Kirigan offers the occasional nod to some they pass by but as he leads her to the edge of the gardens, the number dwindles. By the time they reach the greenhouses, they are alone.

He stops at the furthest one that is slightly separated from the others and opens the door, ushering her in. There are a few Grisha working that look up as they enter. They leave at his command.

"Why have you brought me here?"

"To show you this," he motions to the greenhouse. "My people have been working with the soil from the Unsea, the Fold," he explains. "When the Fold is destroyed or moved, we will ensure that the land can be made viable again."

Despite the odd feeling of relief that something is being taken care of, something stands out to Hermione. She stops walking. "Moved?"

Kirigan continues forward, fingers grazing the dirt held in a trough. "We do not yet know if it can be unmade. I have not been willing to make the attempt without…assurance that it will not expand haphazardly. If it is capable of being moved, I would have it on our borders. A deterrent to our enemies in Shu Han and Fjerda."

It is not that she does not understand his reasoning, but not all in those countries are their enemies. "What of trade or Grisha refugees? How would you ensure safe passage through when even now there are deaths?"

"It would need amendment," he carefully admits. "But we have passage now into West Ravka with skiffs and squallers. Fear of the Fold would keep any alliances needed in check."

"Fear is not a weapon to be wielded. It will bite back," she points out. "Just as you have seen with the persecution of Grisha."

"Your hands better be immaculate, moi soverenyi," a voice calls out from behind her.

Hermione turns to greet the intruder, but not before catching Kirigan pulling his hand away from the dirt and putting them behind his back as though he had been caught.

There is a woman standing just inside the door, her eyebrow raised as she stares down the General.

"Galina," he says with a smile. "Allow me to introduce Maya Grankova. Our sun summoner."

"I am aware of who Miss Grankova is, General. I dare say there are few who aren't." Galina looks at Hermione and offers a reserved smile. "I am happy to meet you. I have heard many things from my brother. I am Galina, Head Alkemi of the Little Palace and its gardens."

"The pleasure is all mine," Hermione offers.

"I thought the General and my brother would continue to keep you occupied and all to themselves. I am quite surprised that he has finally brought you to meet me."

"Your brother?" Hermione asks.

"Konstantin," she offers. "The Librarian."

Hermione's eyes light up. "Oh! Yes, he's been a wonderful help and has such a fascinating organizational system."

"It is rare he finds someone who shares his passion," Galina says.

"Understandable. The General was just explaining that you have been working with the soil from the Unsea."

"We have," Galina moves forward. "It is a matter of controlling the acidity in the soil and drawing out any remnants of darkness from it. The lack of light and circulation within the Fold allows miasma to linger. The towns and army posts nearest to the Unsea have all experienced greater outbreaks of fever and intestinal sickness than anywhere else in Ravka. We cannot solve one problem if it will result in a plague in the aftermath. Even if all creatures and material inside the Fold were burned to ash there would be complications of lung ailments for miles around. Reshaping our country will be no small undertaking and likely the work of many more hands than your own.

Perhaps, when your schedule allows, you might be willing to be of assistance? We want to ensure that we will be able to not only ensure the health of the people but make the land viable for crops, to feed those who need it or at the very least be able to prevent erosion."

"Of course," Hermione agrees instantly. "Considering the manner of the Fold, you will want to ensure that it is receptive to light after all these years."

"Yes, and if there are any toxins lingering, are they a part of the shadow itself or simply a result of the beasts that live and feed there. All of life has decayed in that darkness. What effect does that have on what remains? Merzost can be unpredictable, especially because we know so little about it."

"If I may cut in," Kirigan says. "My purpose of this visit was to ensure that Ms. Grankova's research, her drive in assisting us all, is not at the cost of her wellbeing." He looks at Hermione, meeting her eyes. "She is not alone in her search for answers and therefore must work with those who are already at the task."

Hermione looks away, unable to hold his stare. Something in her stomach flutters at the intensity.

Galina turns her shrewd gaze on to Hermione. "Have you not been taking care of yourself?"

Hermione falters in how to answer. She has done her best under the circumstances, but standing before Galina feels like standing before Professor McGonagall.

"I will not allow you into my gardens, Ms. Grankova, if you are unable to practise such basic restraint. Perhaps I shall warn my brother as well."

"No!" Hermione nearly shouts and catches a smirk from Kirigan out of the corner of her eye. She pulls back into herself, trying to temper the outburst at the idea of losing access to the information available to her. "Apologies. That is not necessary. I have been made aware of my…neglect. It won't happen again."

Galina stares at her for a moment before she nods. "Good. Now, have you met Grigor?"

[tbc]