Chapter 7

Harry envied Narcissa's graceful landing after the portkey deposited them on the fabled island. For a woman who had likely just escaped a brutal beating, she appeared remarkably calm. Maybe she was in denial. Or maybe she was distracted by where she was now.

"Oh, my…." she breathed, placing her hand over her heart as she looked around. "Is this really the Isle of Kings? I've heard about it my entire life…but I never thought I would see it."

Her gaze traveled up from the beach where they had landed to the palace, high atop the white limestone cliffs. A stiff sea breeze was blowing inward with the tide, wreaking havoc on her hair. It was the most unkempt Harry had ever seen the woman, not that he disapproved. He thought it suited her, somehow. She looked younger; the haughty expression she normally wore was absent, too, which might have had something to do with the improvement to her looks.

Blaise walked over to where Narcissa was standing. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he asked, "Are you alright?"

She nodded, giving him a small smile. "Yes. Of course, dear."

He nodded. "Good. Well then, let's…"

A pop behind them stopped whatever he was going to say. One of Hermione's personal assistants had come to usher the visitors into the castle. The little elf gave a low bow. "If you please, Coco has been tasked to bring the young Masters and Missus to the receiving room. That is where you'll find my Majesties. Come this way, and Coco will present you."

Harry thought nothing of what the elf had said and began to follow the creature up the stone stairway, but Blaise and Narcissa shared a significant look between them. They knew the term "Majesty" was normally reserved for monarchs and their consorts. It was obvious who the former was; but the latter was the more intriguing. Who had the elf meant?

As the three of them trudged up the carved-out path to the top of the cliffs, Narcissa was busy trying to keep track with the strong impressions she was feeling. For one, she found it strange that the climb was not difficult, even though the stairway was steep and at places, treacherous. Two, although she'd never set eyes on the island before, it felt familiar; almost as if it had been a holiday home she'd been to as a child….or perhaps a place she'd visited before in a dream. Three, and this one felt the oddest, her presence here almost felt…fated. Like the island had been expecting her. She sensed its welcome with each step she took; a bizarre recognition that entered into the soles of her feet to spread upward throughout her body.

There is strange magic here.

Not strange in a negative sense, but unearthly. Mystical. Goosebumps broke out over her skin. A hushed shiver swept through her. The very air crackled with an invisible power that she intuitively knew could be deadly, should it choose. Almost as if she were standing beside a bolt of electricity. Whatever it was, it was something she'd never encountered before. She felt both excited and overwhelmed by it.

She was completely out of her depth and knew it.

The sensation was even more potent when she entered the palace. Her magic sensed the ancient power thrumming in every stone that made up the structure. She'd heard tales about the elven and goblin participation in the design of the castle, and the magnificence it wrought, for there was no other magical structure like it. The effect of it was said to be so heady, it made all but the strongest feel lightheaded.

It's true, she thought. Reaching out to a nearby wall, she stopped to steady herself.

Blaise looked over and smiled in sympathy. "You'll get used to it," he said, understanding exactly what she was experiencing.

Then they both looked over to where Harry was, seemingly unaffected by the invisible might pressing on every side.

He really must be the Chosen One, thought Blaise, shaking his head in wonder.

Once they reached the doors to the main reception area, Coco motioned for the group to enter. Walking in, they saw Hermione standing in front of a magnificent stained glass window talking to a group of men, two of them appearing to be extremely enamored with the princess. Draco sat off to the side, watching. However, once he saw his mother, he quickly stood and rushed over to her side.

"Mum," he whispered against her ear, hugging her as if he were a lad of seven again. That, more than anything else, told Narcissa how serious her situation had been. The last time he'd called her that was before he ever went to Hogwarts. She immediately hugged him back, marveling at the increased strength she felt in his arms. When had that happened? On his last visit home, she'd worried that he'd grown too thin and gaunt. But now he seemed better. The dark circles under his eyes were gone and his face looked fuller. Was the magic of the island responsible?

"Son, why are we here?" she asked in a hushed tone. "Does this have something to do with your father's appointment?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you everything later, but just know I'm here by invitation and with the Headmaster's permission."

"Invitation? Did Miss Granger invite you?"

"She's not Miss Granger anymore, Mother."

"Oh, yes….of course not. I apologize."

Draco grinned. "There seems to be a lot of that happening today. Thankfully, Hermione is a forgiving sort."

"You call her by her given name now? Does that mean you're friends?"

The cheeky grin left Draco's face; a much softer smile took its place. "Friends, at the very least. And perhaps a chance for more."

Narcissa stared at him, studying more intently his changed appearance. Yes, something had definitely occurred since she'd last seen him. There was fortitude in his expression that had not been there before; also, a tenderness showed about his eyes. The cold, hard glare that she'd been afraid he would inherit was gone. Also gone was the proud sneer. He seemed….at peace. It was as if a giant hand had wiped every trace of his father's influence from him. Perhaps it was the magic of the island.

Perhaps it was something stronger.

"My dragon….are you certain of this? The ramifications of such a match….." In a much lower voice, she murmured, "You would be a prince consort…perhaps even a king, if the decrees of the ruling line allowed it."

"I don't care about that. All that matters to me is that I would have the witch of my dreams."

Narcissa thought she knew her son, but that remark threw her. "Oh….so this is not a sudden scheme? I thought….since her true heritage is now known, you might have decided…"

Draco appeared affronted. "Mother, stop. It's not a scheme of any kind. Simply put, I love her. I did even when we thought her …unsuitable."

"Oh. I see….well, you were wise to hide that from your father."

"I had to, then. But not anymore."

Narcissa nodded. "Then I shall do my best to be worthy of such a daughter and welcome her into our family, if it comes to that."

"Thank you. But you understand our family may now be reduced to just the two of us?"

Narcissa knew there was a reason for Draco's comment. One he was attempting to conceal. Wincing at what her imagination could conjure up, she reached up and tenderly cupped his face with her hands. "It's always just been the two of us, my darling boy. Only now the rest of the world will know it."

Harry was hard put not to cry when he saw Hermione. Indeed, as soon as the elf opened the door to the chamber, he had no eyes for anyone but her. He watched as she easily conversed with her guests. He saw the grace and elegance that had always been there, the generosity of spirit, the kind cordiality, the interest in what others had to say. The noblesse oblige that defined who she had always been.

Why had he not seen it before?

She'd been a queen from the first moment he'd met her.

It had been nearly a month since he'd last talked to his friend, and in that time he'd come to realize how much she had given; how much she had cared. And how much he'd exploited it. He hadn't set out to use her, but he had. He'd leaned on her heavily. Too heavily. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, but he could now acknowledge it. Ron still couldn't. Whether he couldn't see it or was too stubborn to admit it, Harry didn't know, but he figured it was the latter. She'd brought so much to their fight against Voldemort, and all he'd done in return was enable an even bigger bullseye to be put on her back. He'd resolved to make it up to her somehow, so today when Zabini told him about Hermione's message, he knew he had to go with the Slytherin. He was done being held back by his own blindness or Ron's mulishness.

So far, she hadn't noticed him.

When their group came in, she'd detected blonde hair and saw when Draco had moved toward the door. She'd given a sigh of relief that Blaise had been successful. It was only after getting her hand kissed by the two young men who were taking their leave that she'd noticed another person beside Blaise. A young man with messy black hair and the greenest eyes she'd ever seen looking at her with an expression of profound homesickness; not for a place, but for her.

"Harry," she gasped, then sprinted toward him with a speed that surprised everyone watching; the guards with curiosity, Draco with resignation and Blaise and Mrs. Malfoy with polite indifference.

"I've missed you, 'Mione," Harry said, getting a mouthful of hair as she crushed him to her.

"Oh, Harry…I've missed you, too. How are you? Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah. Everyone's fine. Just missing you, that's all."

She smiled at that. "Ron didn't come with you?"

"Er…well, to be honest, Ron doesn't know where I am."

"I can explain that," Blaise said as he joined the two. "I had asked Potter to tell the headmaster where I was going, but when he found out I'd gotten a message from you, he begged to come."

Just behind Blaise, Draco and his mother moved up to complete the circle. He immediately shifted over and took Hermione's hand in his, offering support.

But Harry didn't see it that way. He scowled at the blonde, his eyes narrowing in distrust. Truth was, he'd not noticed his nemesis until then.

"What's he doing here?" he hissed. "And why are you letting him hold your hand?"

This was the moment Hermione had dreaded; trying to explain Draco to her friends. But before she could utter a word, Narcissa spoke up. "My son is here by invitation, Mr. Potter. Unlike you, who are here by accident."

Good Lord. Of all the things to say, that was not one of them. Hermione gritted her teeth, even though she knew better.

"You didn't mind me accidentally saving you earlier," Harry retorted.

Narcissa's haughty expression made a return as she looked down her nose at the defiant teenager, which was quite a feat since Harry towered over her. "You have my gratitude, although if I'm not mistaken, the bulk of it should go to my son's friend….unless it is the practice of all Gryffindors to hog the credit for anything that borders on heroism."

Uh-oh. Narcissa had just poured gasoline on an open flame. Even Draco knew that, as he could be heard whispering, "Mother, please."

Harry's infamous temper began to get the better of him. His hair began to crackle with magic, standing up every which way; his eyes were shifting to an avada kedavra shade of green. Hermione knew she'd better put a stop to this before the older witch found herself blown up and floating like a balloon over the Atlantic.

Reminding herself she was a sovereign now and no longer just a sidekick to the boy who lived, she attempted diplomacy. "You, of course, are always welcome, Harry. But so is Draco and his mother and Blaise."

"Draco? Since when do you call him that? What's going on?" Hurt flashed in his eyes.

"We'll talk later, Harry. But I promise everything is fine."

He wasn't having it. Everyone has triggers, and unfortunately, Draco was one of Harry's. "Have you forgotten who he is and how he's treated us?"

"No…of course not. It's just.."

"I…I can't believe this. And you're still holding his hand! Is Ron right? Has all this gone to your head to the point you think your place is now with…" he gestured rudely, "…that lot?"

That lot? And….her place? Hermione told herself that was just Harry's temper talking. An hour from now he would feel badly about his outburst. But this couldn't continue; this constant suspicion and second-guessing when it didn't line up with his or Ron's ideas. Her role had changed. Disrespect to her was in effect, disrespect to the Crown. That could not be tolerated.

"Harry James Potter, you will not question my choices. Draco and I have made peace with the past. That's all you need to know. I understand that it may take time for you to trust him. I get that. But let me be clear….I expect you to trust me. I will no longer allow you or Ron or anyone else to berate or challenge everything I do and say. I welcome your thoughts. I will hear your suggestions. But if you cannot respect me, your Sovereign, then you no longer have any place here. Do you understand?"

It was the first time Hermione had ever invoked the authority of her position, although at the moment, she didn't realize she'd done that. She couldn't hear her voice change in timbre; she didn't see the flash of flame in her eyes; she couldn't feel the waves of magic issuing from her person. But all the rest of them could.

The change was immediate.

Harry looked like he'd been whammied, his eyes wide in shock. Contritely bowing his head, he murmured, "I'm sorry."

Narcissa looked shamefaced too, as she gave a little bob and admitted, "I was also in the wrong, your Highness."

Blaise bowed his head in respect as did Draco, but the latter raised her hand and kissed it before letting go.

Hermione frowned, perplexed at the sudden change in their behavior. It was like she'd stumbled into a freakish alternate reality where everyone bowed and curtsied and acted like puppets on a string.

What in the world just happened?

She didn't get her answer until later that evening after Blaise and Harry had gone back to Hogwarts with Professor Snape, who was still in charge of overseeing her and Draco's independent study and who visited them regularly to make sure they were keeping up. He'd seemed surprised to see Narcissa at the castle and had stayed longer than usual talking to her; no doubt being filled in on what had happened that day. Hermione was in the living room located in the wing that housed the family's private quarters. She was stretched out on a sofa beside Draco, both of them with a book in their hand and their feet propped up on the coffee table while his mother was seated beside the fireplace, chatting with a guest. Francesca Zabini had answered her son's request to bring Narcissa some toiletries and a few changes in clothing since she would be staying awhile at the palace. She'd come eager to hear her friend's account of why she'd been invited to the castle. She also came with news of her own.

"My dear, have you seen the evening's edition of the Prophet?"

"No, I've not had time. What was in it?"

"Your diabolical excuse for a husband, that's what."

Narcissa shrugged. She'd long known Francesca's opinion of Lucius. "What was it this time?"

Had he gotten himself arrested again? A girl could hope, she supposed.

"Oh, it was a puff piece about his important role as the future queen's senior advisor, and how excited he was to "help our young monarch bridge the gap among the countries in the Commonwealth." She waved her hand dismissively, "The whole article was a complete load of twaddle that had absolutely no purpose except to show that your husband has no intention of passing on the appointment to Draco."

"Ah….so you know about that."

Francesca smiled. "Of course. It's what I do best."

Narcissa feigned a cough to cover the smirk that was trying to show. "Yes, I believe I recall you mentioning it before."

"I make no apologies. Knowledge is power or so say the muggles. And I think they're right. But it doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what you're going to do about this."

Draco and Hermione stopped studying when they overheard his father being mentioned. When Mrs. Zabini shared what was in the paper, Hermione reached over to take Draco's hand, giving it a sympathetic squeeze.

"I don't know what you think I can do," Narcissa said. "Just the suggestion that he pass the appointment on to Draco threw him into a murderous rage."

Her friend sniffed. "I wish I had the handling of him. He needs a taste of his own medicine. That's what you failed to do when he was younger, Cissa. He's had his way for far too long. I think it's made him mad."

Draco's mother sighed. I think I'm the one who's been driven to madness. However, all she said was, "You sound like my sisters. But I was never that way. Bellatrix used to mock me for not having a killer instinct, but I couldn't afford to develop one after I was married. By then, I had more than myself to consider," she said, tilting her head in Draco's direction.

Hermione could just imagine Narcissa as a young mother trying her best to protect the one thing in life she couldn't live without; her baby boy. Her only son. Her heart hurt for her.

The life she must have lived…

Her marriage had brought her both entitlement and abuse. Hermione absently rubbed her thumb over Draco's knuckles as she tried to think of a solution that could help. Then the memory of everyone apologizing came to mind.

"Mrs. Zabini," she said, interrupting the conversation between the two witches. The older witch looked her way. "Yes, your Highness?"

"Is it legal for a monarch to...compel a subject to carry out their wishes?"

Blaise's mother immediately sat up and stared hard at Hermione. A shrewd smile began to play about her mouth. "Ah…finally," she said in satisfaction. "A queen who's unafraid to get down to business. I like that."

"Oh, no! I didn't mean I would do it. Not if it was illegal. Not on purpose, anyway," Hermione muttered, biting her lip, a guilty expression coloring her face.

Francesca quirked a brow but said nothing. However, a conspiratorial smirk continued to stay on her face. "Let me guess…has this happened already?"

Hermione nodded. "Just today. I got fed up with Harry's doubting me, and I…well, I don't know exactly what I did. But everyone who heard me was affected. Do you know what caused it? It hasn't happened before."

"If I had to guess, I would imagine it has to do with the closeness of your coronation. You are beginning to acquire a sovereign's thrall."

"Thrall….you mean, like what fairies use?"

"And despots…and other tyrannical leaders hellbent on subjugating their people."

"But that's why I was asking about the legalities. Thralls became forbidden after the Treaty of Elva Hill in 1876. In fact, I recall reading that any leader or minister found guilty of using a thrall would have their magic automatically removed. So that couldn't be what I did, because I still have mine," she demonstrated as she levitated a candle from the table.

"That treaty is British law, my dear. It doesn't apply to you."

"But I'm British!"

Francesca grinned, a lovely dimple popping out on one cheek. It was clear to see where Blaise had gotten his good looks. "Don't let the French Minister hear that. True, you grew up British…but your real parents were French. This island is French territory. Therefore, you're bound to French law. You are also the Head of State for many other countries. Your likeness will be on more coins than just the galleon or bezant."

"Lucky me," Hermione deadpanned. "Something to look forward to; my face on foreign currency the size of hubcaps."

Draco laughed. "At least, you're beautiful. Just imagine what it would be like if you looked like Millicent Bulstrode."

"But my hair….."

"Then be glad for the large sized coins. At least all your mop will fit on those."

"Draco!" Narcissa scolded, but the effect was ruined by her laughing.

Francesca laughed too, then added, "Don't tell me you're going to let him get away with that."

Hermione wasn't. She jabbed Draco in his side, making him yelp. "You are so mean."

He reached over and pulled her close, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. "Am I? Then why am I the one now dealing with a bruised rib?"

She grinned, looking down to try to see the damage, but he stopped her, lifting her chin to steal a kiss instead.

"Not now," she admonished in a frantic whisper. "We're not alone."

Narcissa and Francesca buried their grins in their cups as they suddenly took an interest in their tea.

"Well, I suppose I must be off. Let me know if you need anything else, Cissa," Francesca said as she stood from her chair. "Your Highness, I am very honored to have met you. Blaise was right; you will make a wonderful queen."

"Mrs. Zabini….one moment, please. Would it be possible for you to stay just a few minutes longer? I have some matters I would like to discuss with you."

"Of course," she said, sitting back down.

Narcissa and Draco took that as their cue to retire. The former did with a nod and a bid for all to have a pleasant night, but Draco leaned down and gave Hermione one last kiss on her forehead. "Sleep well, Granger," he whispered. Straightening up, he gave her a wink before he departed the room with his mother.

Both Francesca and Hermione watched as the two climbed the stairs, Narcissa taking Draco's proffered arm while looking up at him with blatant affection.

Francesca turned back to study Hermione. "You chose well," she said.

"Pardon?"

"And don't worry," she continued, ignoring Hermione's question. "The further he's removed from his father's interference, the more his true personality will show."

"You're speaking of Draco."

"I am. I don't deny what's he's done to you and your friends in the past; Blaise has often enough complained about it…and with reason. But despite that, Draco has a loyal heart. I know it, because my son would not have put up with him otherwise."

"Well…." Hermione blushed. "I hardly know what to call our relationship. It's all developed rather recently…"

"For you, perhaps. But not him." The older witch leaned forward in her chair. All traces of her former amusement were gone from her face. "He's in love with you….can you not see it?"

Hermione's face turned even redder. "How can you tell? A few weeks ago, I would have sworn he hated me."

She shrugged. "As I said, it's what I do best. And not because I'm gossipy, or that I'm overly observant…even though I am those things. They can be useful. But it's because knowing is my gift." She leaned back into her chair. "I have The Sight."

"You're a Seer?"

"No…not in the way you mean. I can't see into the future. But I can see into people. It's what makes so many fear me. I know when they're lying. I know when they're plotting. I know when they're happy or sad or worried."

"Sounds exhausting," Hermione declared. "Is it like Legilimency?"

"Not really. A Legilimens may enter into the mind of another. My gift enables me to know the thoughts and emotions of everyone I'm around. All at the same time."

"Good grief. What a heavy burden to bear."

She shrugged. "I suppose it is. But no more than a crown. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Yes, in a way. You would think my position would enable me to get things done, but so far, I've bungled up everything I've tried to achieve. I tried to get Mr. Malfoy to give up the appointment, but all that did was cause Mrs. Malfoy to be put in danger and lose her home. I wanted to choose my own partner in my own time, yet all these…. people…. keep coming to woo me.

Draco was tortured for defending me. Blaise is run ragged because of me…I just….I want to be a good queen….but I can't even manage the simplest things!"

"Except a thrall?" Francesca said, humor returning to her eyes.

Hermione let out a noise that was a cross between a chuckle and a snort. "Don't think I'm not tempted to try it on Draco's father."

Mrs. Zabini sighed. "I would love to be there to see you do it. But it's no use. It wouldn't work on him."

"Why not?"

"Because he's already under one. That demon from hades, Tom Riddle, has all of his death eaters dancing to his tune. Not quite an imperious….oh, no. Lucius knows what he's doing, and make no mistake, he enjoys it, too. But let's just say…he's kept highly suggestible to whatever Tom whispers in that mind of his."

"But…how is that possible? Shouldn't Voldemort have lost his magic from using a thrall?"

"Well….didn't he after a fashion? And the way he came back…. I don't think they had anything like that in mind when they made that treaty."

Hermione looked crestfallen. "There goes that idea, then."

Francesca stood up and moved to where Hermione was sitting on the sofa. "May I join you?"

"Yes, please do," she said as she scooted over. She watched curiously as Mrs. Zabini gently placed her hand on her forearm.

"Please forgive my boldness, but right now, I'm going to speak to you as a mother. And my question as a mother is why you are so set on rescuing Draco and Narcissa? Are your feelings deeper for him than you've admitted?"

Hermione stared at the older woman's face. Her expression was one she'd seen so often on Blaise. The intelligence in her eyes, the same as his. It made her feel she was talking to him. "I don't know what I feel. I mean….how can I? It's all happened so fast. However, I know there's always been something between us…a kind of fire, I suppose you could say. Passion. I admit most of the time it's been relegated to fighting…but still….there's always been a spark."

The earnest expression Francesca wore gave way to a satisfied one. Hermione froze when she realized she'd just been played. With her gift, Blaise's mother would have already known what she was feeling. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

She laughed then, a lovely lilting sound. "Forgive me, dear, but you needed to know your own mind before I could answer your question."

"My question?"

"The real reason you asked me to stay….not the crown business you tried to convince yourself of; those are frustrations, to be sure, but what's really on your heart is how to protect the Malfoys. That was the true question. And I'm happy to say there is another way. But I needed you to acknowledge your feelings before I told you, as this might require a deep commitment; one that could very well last a lifetime."

Hermione stilled at the sudden seriousness in Francesca's tone. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Go on."

"Has anyone told you about the ceremonial gift you will receive at the Coronation?"

"Do you mean the Orb? I was informed I would be given it after the blessing."

The older witch tsked in disapproval. "And that's all you were told? They should have explained things better than that. Did they not tell you that with the Orb comes the gift of the Three C's?"

"The three Cs? No, I don't recall…..wait…..I think I have heard of it before. Maybe during a history of magic class? I recollect Professor Binns mentioning something about a gift that used to be given to kings…. weren't they wishes of some kind?"

"Yes, I suppose you could call them that. They were to be a gift for a new sovereign to help them in their early years of rule."

"Well, if I'm remembering correctly, the practice was abolished, right?"

Francesca shook her head. "Not totally. There used to be three wishes granted. Now there's just one. It will be up to you to choose."

Hermione frowned. The whole thing sounded awfully vague. It gave her an uneasy feeling. "I don't understand. What am I choosing?"

"First and foremost you're choosing an individual," Mrs. Zabini began, but sensing the princess' further bewilderment, she said, "Let's start over, shall we? The Three Cs are simply this. You are given a choice; you may select one person from your kingdom, and that one person is compelled by the law to abide by your choice. He or she must accept the judgment or appointment you bestow upon them. You are given either the power of condemning this person as a criminal, or if the person chosen is one you respect and trust, you may appoint them as Royal Counsel."

"And the last C?"

She smiled. "This is the special one, and the reason why I tested you earlier. If you were to choose someone you loved, you could have them as your Consort without any fear of retaliation. So the gift of the three Cs is the power to have what you would most want and desire: do you need to dispose of an enemy? Choose the C of Criminal. Do you need an advisor you can trust? Select the C of Counsel. Or is your heart bound to one who's forbidden? Choose the C of Consort. That is the gift of the three Cs."

"Ha! Well, that's easy, then. I choose Voldemort to be condemned as a criminal. If anyone ever deserved the kiss, it's him."

"And that would take care of him, would it?" Once again, Francesca gave her a knowing look.

Hermione sucked in a breath. She's right. The kiss wouldn't end him. But how could she know that? Surely, she isn't aware of the horcruxes.

"Of course, I'm aware. Because I told you…..I know your thoughts. I also know you are avoiding thinking about the choice you will soon have to make."

"Look…I don't think I can make one. The whole thing sounds oppressive…like coercion. I would be forcing a decision on one of my subjects without letting them have any say in the matter. If that's the gift, then no thanks. I don't want it."

"You wouldn't be forcing..."

"I would be, if I took away their choice."

Francesca's stare was penetrating. "Not if it was his choice, too."

Hermione stared back at the witch as her full meaning washed over her. "You can't know that."

"Can't I?"

Hermione's breath caught. Yes, Blaise's mom could, in fact, know that. Know that Draco would want to be her consort. Know that it would be what he would choose for himself, given the chance. Heck, he'd admitted as much to her earlier that day.

A consort. A husband. At seventeen.

It was too much. Too much to consider. Attraction was one thing, but a lifetime commitment? Marrying Draco Malfoy…

It was too soon…..she was too young….her friends would never understand…..

The walls of the castle began closing in, binding her….imprisoning her. She felt like bolting from the room, from the castle and apparating away as far as her magic could take her.

Hermione's breath became erratic, her hand clutching at the sofa's armrest. Black spots appeared in her vision. She felt weak, her hands and lips tingling with the sudden onset of a blood sugar drop due to the anxiety that was racing through her veins. Before she knew it, she was lost in the throes of a vicious panic attack.

And for a time, it reigned supreme.

Moments passed. Later, she became aware of strong hands cradling her while waves of gentle, soothing magic washed away the terror that had held her captive. She found herself ensconced in Draco's arms, sitting on his lap while Francesca stood in front of them, wand in hand. Beside her was Narcissa holding a vial.

"Here," she said gently. "A sip or two should do the trick."

Obediently opening her mouth, Hermione instantly recognized the potion as being the Draught of Peace, its blue color and berry flavor quite distinctive.

Almost immediately, a calm sleepiness crept over her, replacing the former fear. She snuggled more closely to Draco's chest, laying her head against its warmth. "Tired," she mumbled.

"Shh…it's alright, love. Go to sleep," he said.

The last thing she registered before oblivion overtook her was Francesca's voice whispering in her mind. "I know you'll find the courage when it's time. I know, Your Highness."

A/N: A few notes-

Most stories have a wise person or sage. Gandalf….Dumbledore…Yoda…..on it goes. For this story, Francesca is that character. For my Star Trek Next Gen friends, she's kind of like Tam Elbrun

Regarding wizarding currency. The hubcap reference was taken from the below:
Goblet of Fire, Chapter 7
"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."

Lastly, I didn't know if I should share this, as it's very personal and precious to me. But the world is so insane right now. Nuclear saber-rattling, little children being slaughtered at daycare, biological warfare threats, crazy dictators springing up like rabbits, human rights abuses getting worse and worse…..it can make one scared to get out of their bed. So, I'm hoping what I'm about to say might give assurance to those who need it.

The part in this chapter where Narcissa is feeling overwhelmed by the power of the island came from a real life experience of mine. I was a teenager. It was summertime in the deep south, and I was in my backyard walking back to the house. It was later in the day; calm and peaceful with the sound of cicadas in the air. After an afternoon of swimming and fun with my friends, all I wanted to do was to stuff my face with a bowl of my mom's homemade ice cream. Suddenly, out of nowhere, shivers and goosebumps erupted on my back and trailed down my body to the soles of my feet. Something was behind me. I could sense it so strongly. Something colossally powerful. Something that could obliterate me in a second, if it had wanted to, yet seemed to project a nurturing regard. I had never felt so small before, so overwhelmed yet also so overjoyed. I can't explain it better than that. I turned my head to take a peek, not knowing what I might see, which turned out to be nothing. Yet the air behind me had a shining quality to it. It was crazy. But I can still remember the happiness and peace I felt.
I can't prove it happened…whatever it was didn't leave a calling card, unfortunately….but I believe it was my guardian angel.

I'm not sharing this to creep people out or to make you think I'm some sort of weirdo. I just wanted you to know how I came about writing that bit about Narcissa. What I just told you really happened to me. I've never forgotten it, even after 40+ years. May it bring you comfort if you're lonely or going through a really tough time. We're not alone.