The vixen's shrieks echoed through the tunnels as the, to Hermione familiar, white-hot pins from the curse sank deep into her body. She writhed on the ground, whilst she tried to get a grip on the environment with her paws. But all which happened was her nails scratching the stone.
The agony audible in those screams would bring shudders to most people's spines. Bellatrix was not 'most people'. Her mad cackle rang proudly through the tunnels, intertwining with the agony she created.
This sound too was something Hermione was all too familiar with. Even as she spasmed on the floor, whilst her body was forced to return to her human form, did she register the creepy sound.
Though the Death Eater's fun was cut short, for a nasty cough abruptly broke through her laughter. The older woman wheezed and sputtered. Phlegm obscured her respiratory passages, making breathing something that currently needed all her attention. Therefore, control over the curse was lost and it broke off at once.
The moment it was lifted Hermione clenched her jaws to keep herself from making a single sound. Bellatrix had located her with the use of sound, thus Hermione had to stay silent. And she succeeded except for her shallow breathing. Which she quickly regulated into deep breaths, ones that could not be heard over Bellatrix' coughing fit. All the while, she carefully stirred her body into movement, she gripped the floor with a shaky hand and made herself sit on her hands and knees on the floor. And as her senses came back to her the Muggle-born grew aware of just how utterly dark it was this deep in the maze of tunnels. She had to return to her vixen form, no matter how uncomfortable a transformation would be with her now sensitive body.
Despite the fact that the Crusiatus had not even lasted the half amount of time she had endured in Malfoy Manor, Hermione was still shaking on her paws by the time she was standing in her vixen form.
With her sight back, she watched as Bellatrix lay practically crumpled on the floor. Even with the distance between them, Hermione saw how the Death Eater's body shuddered like a leaf in an attempt to sit upright with her hands on the floor to steady herself. Sickness had her in its power however, Bellatrix was far too weak to even try to get up again.
Hermione observed the woman a moment longer, anger for what had just happened mingled momentarily with her fear, but then she tore her eyes away from the pitiful heap of old flesh and bones. She had no doubt that Harry had heard the echoes of her screams and was currently blasting his way through the wall of fallen ceiling, not caring that he endangered himself. With fear for his safety, she sprinted as fast as she could, ignoring the lingering pain of the curse and thanking Merlin that there was no water she could fall and drown in, for she seemed unable to run in a straight line. Still, even as she ran in an unsteady line, her speed did not suffer from it. And gradually her steps became steadier.
It was not long before she could hear the destructive magic if only she could cast a Patronus she could have spared Harry the despair of not knowing about her wellbeing. Hermione felt longing and fear for the idea of trying to cast one. She could try the memory of her reunion with Viktor. But she would have to return into a human first, then she would still have to take the time and concentrate on the feeling and... It would take too long. Hermione had made her decision and finalized it with a short shake of her head and body whilst she continued to run.
Hermione came sprinting and jumped through an opening that had not been there before. She twisted through the smog of the previous explosion to avoid an upcoming Bombarda and landed into the bright Lumos light only to dash forward again. Behind her, another big boulder exploded into debris and for the first time (for as far as Hermione was aware at least) the ceiling began to rumble and groan for the loss of support. Small pieces of rock and cement fell downwards.
Harry stood there with wild panic on his face, sweat covered his skin, he had not yet noticed her. With his wand in hand, he shot one spell after another. Until he finally saw the vixen, who jumped and morphed just before she collided with him, her arms thrown around him as he stumbled and almost fell backwards because of the force.
"Herm - Her -" Harry stuttered as he slowly wrapped his arms around her, "Hermione." The clatter of his wand on the stone floor was a forlorn sound in the tunnel where explosions had been going off mere seconds ago.
The Muggle-born breathed too fast from her sprint to do anything other than say, "Yes."
"What was that back there? I heard your screams from such a distance away and I tried to get through these boulders, really, but they are -"
Hermione took a step away, her face showing far too many emotions, "Harry, not now. We have to get to Minerva at once."
Harry had sent a Patronus ahead of them, warning the Headmistress that there was a dire situation. Meanwhile, the duo sprinted through the castle. Hermione wondered if there would ever come a day that they did not have to rush to one place or another.
Fear bubbled inside her, it fueled her legs to go as fast as she could. It was a fear originating from so many different reasons, there was no time to inspect them all. But most of all, Hermione was afraid that, despite her sickness, Bellatrix would escape out of the tunnels now that Harry had enlarged the gap, and would spread terror once more.
They were halfway to the office met by a briskly striding Minerva, her robes billowing behind her as if she was the one running. Her eyes were stern and her mouth was set in a thin line.
"What is the cause of this unrest? Are there Death Eaters scouted in the Forest?"
"We were in the tunnels which lead to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry puffed out. "Looking... Looking for a few rare plants." He kept Neville out of the story, no need to drag him into something he had nothing to do with.
Whilst he spoke Hermione looked around to see if anyone was nearby. When she was quite certain it was unlikely that they would be overheard she said softly, "Lestrange, it is Bellatrix Lestrange, she is in the tunnels underneath the castle."
"What?!" Harry almost shouted as he rounded on her.
Minerva too looked in surprise from one to the other, obviously wondering how there could only be one who knew of this while they had been down there together, though the emotion showed for a mere split-second on her face. She schooled her features into determination when she asked, "You are quite certain of this, Miss Granger?"
"Yes," was all she could say for the moment, though in her mind she followed with her arguments. There is only one person who cackles as she tortures and I would recognise the pain she causes me even if I would be blind and deaf. Then she suddenly rushed to add, "She is very ill, she can barely sit upright. But her magical power hasn't weakened."
McGonagall did not hesitate, she brandished her wand and almost simultaneously her Patronus appeared, already in a dead sprint as it merged with the shadows, to reappear wherever the Head Auror was currently present.
"Potter, Granger, I would be very grateful if you could make sure that no one is present on the Second Floor, tell the paintings to ward off any wanderers. When that is done, return to the entrance of the Chamber, the Aurors and I will be there soon.
"Poppy has to be briefed in about the situation, in case we need her assistance. And I will see to it that Sir Nicholas awaits the arrival of the Aurors at the front doors of Hogwarts and escort them to the second-floor lavatory." The Professor got ready to leave, though she paused to give one last instruction to her two pupils, "I expect to see you two standing before a still closed door to the Chamber of Secrets."
Poppy - who had not wanted to sit idle as she waited - and Minerva were both glad to see the Chamber's entrance still securely closed as they entered the lavatory, leaving the door open behind them. The two students did not even stand near the entrance. Meanwhile, they had a conversation in soft voices, which stopped the moment the Professors entered the bathroom.
"I received a message back from Robards, he and four Captains of his department are on their way. They will arrive here any moment." Was Minerva's way of greeting.
By the time the Aurors arrived the entrance was opened. All the while, Poppy had been and still was leaning over a cauldron and stirred the brew she had been making; there were bottles and herbs scattered everywhere over the surface of the transfigured table.
The Head of Aurors, Gawain Robards, took off his hat and gave a respectful nod to Minerva, "Headmistress, what is the cause of this abrupt summoning? I hope this is no light matter?"
Minerva answered him without missing a beat, "Bellatrix Lestrange has been found in the tunnels underneath Hogwarts, and she is still alive, though barely."
The Aurors (four men and one woman) took this in without so much as a twitch of their hands. With their experience, this was clearly not the weirdest thing that had crossed their paths.
Robards' eyes fell on the two students, they have to be the ones to have found the witch, it is the only logical explanation for their presence. Then he saw the lightning bolt and knew these two to be none other than Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. However, the admiration he felt for their achievements during the war did not take away the question he had as to why they had ventured through the tunnels.
He turned to his Captains and conducted a strategy with them. It was done within a minute, for they used code words and hand gestures, all taught to Aurors in their years of training. And when that was done the Aurors took the lead and began the descent into the labyrinth of tunnels.
Poppy stayed behind in the lavatory. The nurse's brew was still not ready and someone had to guard the entrance, in case helpers had strayed from their work and who would not heed the paintings orders to stay away from the second floor.
The wall of boulders was the only obstacle on their path, with the small to medium gaps in it. But, with so many strong and experienced wizards and witches, the wall was not that great of an enemy. One half of the group concentrated on keeping the ceiling from falling down while the other half took boulders away from the pile, levitated them back to the ceiling and made them merge once more with their original place. Within a quarter of an hour half of the wall was gone, a path as wide as an Abraxan horse was long could be safely walked through.
The group travelled mostly in charged silence, everyone with their wands in their hand. They only spoke when in need of directions. Harry and Hermione were kept at the end of the group, and all the while their Professor stayed close. Hermione knew that it was not because Minerva was incapable of fighting Bellatrix, no, she stayed close to her students in case they needed protection.
Truth be told, the Muggle-born appreciated the sentiment, but it also meant she could not partially transform herself in order to use her vixen ears, eyes or nose. Minerva would notice it at once, as any other Animagus would. And, admittedly, in the Lumos light the tunnels looked different than when she had been in her Animagus form. The shadows which were cast made their environment look creepier than it had been when they had been completely made of shadows.
Still, Hermione managed to give the group the correct directions; all too soon a rattling cough came from not that far away.
As one the group came to a halt, the Lumos' light was dimmed to its lowest shimmer and the Aurors showed some hand gestures to one another. Hermione could not help but be surprised that wizards used sign language. Harry was transfixed with everything they did, after all, he still wanted to become an Auror himself.
Suddenly Robards took a step towards Minerva and spoke softly, "We will take it over from here, this can get ugly. Stay here."
The Headmistress lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes at him. Her voice was kept carefully neutral but the warning was still clear in her words, "Remember who you are talking to, Gawain. As for Mr Potter and Miss Granger, we all know what they have accomplished these last few months, so give them the respect they deserve."
To his credit, the man did not show any form of embarrassment, though the tightening of his jaws and shoulders did not go unnoticed by anyone. "Merely doing my job, Headmistress McGonagall, this was nothing personal."
Not one of the other bystanders said or did anything, they merely watched the exchange.
Robards gave up on his end of the argument and simply nodded his defeat. Then he signed for the Aurors to start the ambush and at once the five of them stalked into the darkness. Yet the moment they seemed to have disappeared in the shadows bulbs of light, different from any normal Lumos, were thrown into the air. The bulbs aligned themselves in perfect order, as if they were torches on the wall, a consistent distance between each of them.
The whole of the tunnel and beyond was lighted, but it was what laid just before the corner to another tunnel on which the Aurors were focussed. A pathetic heap of human on the floor; the dark mane tangled and greasy, dirt covered every surface on her clothes and body, and she had a starved look about her.
By now they had already crossed half of the distance. One of the Aurors had taken something out of the inner pocket of his coat, he now carried chains and a collar in both his hands, intended for capturing the Death Eater.
Meanwhile, Bellatrix' agony at the sudden light after days of intense darkness was apparent to the group as she hid her eyes in the crook of her elbow, though there came no obscure words or insults from her mouth. Just a wheeze with every breath she took. However, she was still able to throw minor hexes at the intruders with her free hand. Most of which were far from their marks, but they made coming closer still a dangerous task for the Aurors.
But it was five against one; a weak and sickly one. This was bound to be a short fight, if one could even call it a fight.
Four of the Aurors kept Bellatrix' hexes at bay, creating shields wherever the spells would land. It was the fifth with the chains and collar in his hands who would make the difference.
He took one of the chains in the hand of his throwing arm and as he did a round clump grew on the chain's end; the clump then formed itself into a noose of sorts. The Auror began to lasso and threw the chain just when Bellatrix took her elbow away from her eyes.
A surprised and infuriated yelp came from the Death Eater as the noose tightened around her wrists. At once the Auror pulled the roped taut, earning a grunt of pain from the heap on the floor, for her arm was forced to stretch painfully. He held the chain in both hands, the other chain and collar had fallen at his feet.
Another Auror came to pick up the chain at her comrade's feet and she was just as deft with the device in her hands. It was like the previous time, in a moment's notice Bellatrix' other wrist was shackled and now both her arms were forced to stretch in opposite directions. A grimace was clearly visible on her face, her eyes blazing with fury as they shot daggers at the Aurors.
Only now that she could no longer defend herself did the Death Eater begin to insult them, though her words were barely audible between her wheezy breathing and coughs. The exertion it had taken for Bellatrix to throw all those offensive spells had done nothing good to her current state of health. Which only angered Bellatrix all the more.
It was the Head of Aurors who took the collar in his hands and walked unceremoniously towards the shackled and practically fire breathing Bellatrix. The last two Aurors were ready to act if the Death Eater so much as twitched in the wrong direction. Their wands pointed at the vulnerable places on her body.
But Bellatrix only needed a second to spit in Robards' face and even though the Head of Aurors should have seen it coming, the spit still splattered right on his face.
The moment after that Bellatrix' body went limp from the multiple spells that had struck her, she fell to the ground, for the chains detected that she was unconscious and went slack to enable some space for movement, though the shackles were still tight around her wrists.
With a growl of disgust, Robards produced a tissue out of thin air and wiped his face off. Then he proceeded to put the collar around the woman's neck. In the deafening silence, the click could easily be heard by everyone. Then he fastened the shackles with a third and fourth chain onto the collar.
The two Aurors who held the chains came closer and all the while the chain magically shortened itself, after all, they needed a short leash on Bellatrix. Bogards took a few steps away from the captured woman, to ensure safety even though it was unlikely for her to awaken any time soon, and turned to look at Minerva, Harry and Hermione. The three had started to make their way towards him.
The Muggle-born halted a little bit earlier than the other two with no apparent reason, but to her it was like there was an invisible wall between Bellatrix and her which she could not breach. She felt detached from her own emotions as she observed the limp body, she knew that she felt fear and disgust, and yet the emotions seemed so far away. As if they were not hers to feel. Still, she was unable to tear her eyes away from her torturer. Unaware of what was going on around her.
Even whilst having a serious infection Bellatrix had been capable of casting the Cruciatus Curse and given a good attempt to defend herself. Not many a witch or wizard could say the same. Once more Hermione caught herself admiring the woman's skill. She tried to reproach herself for it, but she knew it was useless.
Unbeknownst to herself, Hermione clutched her left forearm, she was too preoccupied with herself and the questions that raced through her head. One in particular repeated itself over and over again.
Why was she here?
Why, in Merlin's-fucking-name, had Bellatrix sought shelter underneath Hogwarts? It was right under the noses of everyone who wanted her locked up, if not worse. So, even if she had managed to escape these tunnels... It made no sense, there was something they were not privy to, there had to be. Hermione eyed the tunnel with suspicion in her eyes, glancing feverishly around her in the hope to see what had kept Bellatrix alive in these tunnels.
Yet, a quick inspection of the surrounding tunnels done by the two Aurors without the chains had been fruitless, though there would be an investigation crew sent once Bellatrix was put safely behind bars.
Where would she be put? Hermione was about to ask this question aloud when the Head Auror gave a sign with his hand.
One Auror pulled the chain in his hands, stretching Bellatrix' arm once more and at once the body stirred, it was in a way that reminded Hermione of someone being electrocuted. With a cough the Death Eater became conscious. Again she tried to push herself upright with the other hand but barely managed it. No one rushed to her aid when she fell back on the ground with a loud thud.
Hermione was almost shocked as she heard an exhausted sigh escape from Bellatrix, she had never thought the Death Eater to willingly give an impression of how she could possibly feel. Even without the use of any words.
Wordlessly the two Aurors used the chains to lift Bellatrix up by her arms. But instead of using their help to stand up the Death Eater stayed limp. Her head leaned sideways on her shoulder and bicep so that she could still delude herself that she was looking down her nose upon them all; her greasy, tangled mess of curls swayed in the rhythm as she was dragged like this through the tunnels, her feet bumped over the ground. Despite her obvious arrogance and the anger still visible in her eyes, she looked like someone who had given up hope, someone who was utterly defeated.
But this was Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who had worn the shackles that lead to her imprisonment in Azkaban with pride. Hermione did not once believe the woman to be without hope or a desire to fight back. And anyone who did was a complete and utter fool.
It was clear by now that each of the Aurors had been assigned a certain role and position before this whole debacle had started. They had worked in so structural a manner anyone could see the pattern in their commands and actions.
The two Aurors with the chains in hand walked ahead of their captive, the Head of Aurors walked close to Bellatrix, the tip of his wand always pointed at the woman, and the last two Aurors stayed at the back, to make sure nothing went amiss.
Minerva, Harry and Hermione were positioned at the front, to lead the way through the tunnels.
After a while, Harry opened his mouth and stated in a whisper, "You seem out of it, are you alright?"
Hermione made a noncommittal noise. A quick glance made him silence any further questions or statements he may have had. She was in no mood to converse, not with her torturer so near, even knowing that killing a certain Mudblood was - hopefully - not on the Death Eater's mind. Hermione wondered if Bellatrix was even aware of her presence and did the Death Eater even know who she had cursed, barely an hour ago.
With so many experienced fighters around her, Hermione should have felt safe. Yet, the fact was still, she did not. The rational part of her brain did see safety in the situation, but it was the illogical emotions that made the hairs of her neck stand on end.
Bellatrix was the whole way silent, except for a cough here and there. It was only when they reached the stairs that lead to the lavatory that the Death Eater began to grunt and curse again as she was made to stand up by leaning heavily on the shackles. Needless to say, the ascent of the Aurors with their captive was a slow one. The Professor and her two students reached the bathroom far sooner.
Hermione blinked against the light, even though they had used Lumos she still needed to adjust to the natural lighting. As she did, she could hear Minerva speak to Poppy Pomfrey, giving her a quick assessment of the situation. The nurse did not show any kind of surprise or anger, she kept her face devoid of emotion. As if it was not a Death Eater that was about to be brought before her, but just a regular student.
While she listened Poppy offered the three of them a diluted Pepper-Up Potion. "To make sure you three are not in any kind of shock," Pomfrey said kindly.
Naturally, Minerva refused the potion, stating she had no need for it. But the students were not allowed to refuse, the nurse quirked her eyebrow at them to make that much clear.
As they downed the liquid, sounds of a struggle could be heard from the stairs. Which was soon followed by the appearance of the two Aurors who helped - or rather forced - Bellatrix to walk the stairs with her own feet, while she still leaned heavily on the shackles and chains.
The moment natural light touched her skin Bellatrix tried to rush back into the shadows, hissing as she scrunched her eyes closed, but the chains would not budge and the Aurors actually pulled her roughly into the light. Making Bellatrix stumble and fall hard onto her knees. She grimaced and she spat at the ground, then she looked up at the two who held her chains with a feral grin on her face. "I will get you, just wait, one day I will cut that smile of yours away for good, Anderson." She rasped.
The Muggle-born felt a chill run up her spine, even though the threat was not directed at her.
The Head of Aurors spoke before Anderson could, "Keep quiet, Lestrange, no need to make this harder than it has to be." Then he turned to one of the Aurors, "Take the chain over from Byrne, Huáng. Byrne, search Lestrange and confiscate any kind of weapon she may carry on her body."
The Aurors both nodded their heads and did as they were told.
While this happened Pomfrey did what she was brought here to do. She cast several spells on the Death Eater, though there did not happen anything for a dozen seconds when suddenly a soft orange glow came from the tip of Pomfrey's wand and several symbols appeared in the air.
Hermione had no doubt that they told the nurse what ailed Bellatrix, or at least gave some kind of indication, though what exactly they meant was a mystery to the Muggle-born. Curiosity killed the cat. But just for a moment, she forgot that she was not even 10 metres apart from Bellatrix, leaning forward to watch Pomfrey's interaction with the symbols. She wanted to know more about this kind of spellcasting and made a mental note to pay a visit to the Hospital wing soon.
The nurse hummed as she looked at what her magic told her and turned to her finished potion. She dripped a dollop of the gooey liquid into a flask, then took another bottle and dripped some of its content into the flask. The cork was securely put on the flask, after which the nurse started to shake the object in her hand with fervour; the differing liquids had to mingle before being given to a patient.
Auror Byrne stepped away and stood at a safe distance from Bellatrix before she turned towards Bogards, "Lestrange has nothing on her, sir, not even a wand."
At the last words Bellatrix' eyes widened as if she was awakened from a daze, a dangerous glint had appeared in them. "Stolen, my wand was stolen! Filthy fucking Mudblood has it! I am going to -" Another fit of coughs silenced her, Bellatrix curled into herself as her body shook.
Pomfrey stepped forward, made eye contact with Huáng and Anderson, and with a simple gesture, they pulled the chains taut for her.
Bellatrix was forced to sit up as her arms were spread wide once more, she looked up with a grimace of fury on her face. Yet she said nothing when her eyes landed on Pomfrey.
"Please open your mouth, Bellatrix, and do not bite me." The nurse kept herself neutral and yet, at the same time, there was something akin to kindness which lingered in both her speech and touch. She reached out and held the Death Eater's chin with one hand, whilst she poured the potion into Bellatrix' mouth with the other. And to Hermione's surprise, Bellatrix did nothing but close her eyes gulp the liquid down whenever there was enough in her mouth.
The image was a surreal one to Hermione, she would have never believed anyone if they had told her she would witness this with her own eyes someday.
When the last of the potion had been drunk Bellatrix slowly began to go limp once more and hung onto the chains, much like a puppet on strings. The Aurors did not miss a second, like a well-oiled machine they worked.
Bogards began a conversation in whispers with Professor McGonagall who mindlessly twirled her wand as she listened. Hermione knew her well enough to know from the expression on her face that Minerva was mentally readying herself for something. All the while, Huáng and Anderson made sure the collar, shackles and chains were fastened as they should and did not cut off any circulation. And Byrne and the still nameless Auror made Bellatrix travel-ready. In half a minute, the group was ready to depart.
Minerva took to stand between them and held out her arm for everyone to take a hold on her. And just before a loud crack echoed within the bathroom the Professor turned towards Poppy, Harry and Hermione and said, "I will be back within three minutes, please wait here for my return." Then they were gone.
Harry took this as an opportunity to begin the process of closing the Chamber's entrance.
All the while Hermione was mute with shock, had the Professor just Apparated the group? On Hogwarts' grounds? But that was supposed to be impossible whilst the wards were up. And they had been active ever since the repairs on the castle had started.
The Muggle-born turned around to Poppy who was magicking most of the equipment she had stalled out back to her infirmary. "Madam Pomfrey, how was that even possible? She just Apparated and we all know that is not possible, not here. Where has she gone?"
Pomfrey did not look up as she rummaged through the last few bottles and herbs that were present, "Minerva merely went to the gates, where the Aurors can Apparate themselves, dear. She will be back in a jiffy."
"But how is it even pos-"
A barely audible pop interrupted Hermione's question and she faced the direction of the noise at once.
Minerva straightened herself the moment she reappeared, her back to the three other occupants of the room. She eyed the closed entrance for several seconds before she turned to them. And upon seeing Hermione's wonder she said not unkindly, "Remember, Miss Granger, I am Headmistress of Hogwarts now. Not only my title has changed."
Pomfrey was the only one to make some noise as she put the last flasks and bottles in the pockets of her apron. She brandished her wand and transfigured the table back into its original form: a sink. With a wave and a kind smile, the nurse said goodbye to Harry and Hermione, "Do stay healthy, you two. And don't ever hesitate to come to the hospital wing if you need me."
Then she made for the door, though not before she paused at Minerva's side and gently touched her shoulder, she muttered something only the Professor was able to hear.
Harry glanced towards Hermione and she looked right back at him, each took a step closer to the other.
When the nurse had left them, McGonagall laid her eyes once more upon the duo, her stare unflinching. She was unabashedly scrutinizing them.
Harry and Hermione almost felt like they were back in their first year, the moment after they had been caught doing something foolish. But there was a big difference between then and now: they had survived a war. The duo had faced far more fearsome foes than an 'observant, with a killer-stare McGonagall'. They held her eyes without looking away. That did not mean Harry and Hermione liked the stern look on Minerva's face, they were both fond of their Professor, after all, and they did not like to displease her.
After a long moment, Minerva sighed heavily and her expression softened ever so slightly, "I won't delude myself into believing that a stern word will make you two think twice about entering those tunnels again, but, please, for the sake of those who love you, be careful."
The two students lowered their eyes at this, guilt was written all over their faces. They were still not truly used to this kind of responsibility they held to others, months of being hunted and on the hunt had somewhat forced the care for their own safety out of their systems.
"But if it weren't for you two, we would never have found out about Bellatrix, and who knows what would have happened if she had returned to full health in the tunnels.
"Albus would have given you each a hundred Gryffindor points for foolish bravery, no doubt." And with this statement, a sparkle of amusement became visible in the woman's green eyes.
Harry met Minerva's eyes with a grateful smile, "Thank you, Professor McGonagall."
Hermione's relieve was visible in the way her shoulders lost some of the tension they had held.
"Well, I hope to see you two under different circumstances next time." The goodbye was a mix of a warning and a jest.
"Wait," Harry said and stepped forward, holding out his hand as if he had to touch Minerva in order to keep her here a minute longer, "I - no, we - wanted to invite you over for dinner, at the camp. We were planning a small feast tonight."
This garnered a smile from Minerva, though she declined the offer, "That is very sweet of you, but I have business to attend to. Perhaps another time."
"Is it Lestrange? Are you going to the Ministry, see where they put her?" Hermione could not keep the questions to herself, she needed to know. Just like she needed to breathe.
"Indeed, I am, among other things," came the mysterious answer. "Try to get some rest tonight. Poppy can always provide you with a draught."
This time Minerva was not interrupted as she made her way out of the bathroom. The duo stared after their Professor, they stood there in silence long after her footsteps had faded. Harry was the one to break it as he put his hands into the pockets of his jacket and said, "We have to buy her something grand."
That night Hermione laid wide awake in bed, staring at the darkness around her. And had been doing so for quite some time. She could listen to Harry and Viktor's breathing without having to strain her ears. Their beds were that close. On each side she had a man sleeping peacefully. Viktor had always been able to fall asleep easily, something she envied many a time. And Harry had opted to take a Dreamless Sleeping Draught, obediently following Minerva's advice. So it would be some time before he would awaken.
Perhaps I should take a glass of it as well, she could not help but think. Yet the moment the idea surfaced she dismissed it. No, it was too late for that, if she took it now she would not be awake till somewhere in the afternoon.
She would just have to clench her jaws and take the few hours of rest in stride. It was not like she was foreign to it, with the nightmare haunting her whenever she did not take the damned draught. There was always coffee to help her on the way as well.
It was not the restlessness she had felt during the day which kept her awake either. In fact, now that she pondered about it, the restlessness which had been present in her being for almost two days had been absent for several hours by now. There was no mistaking it because for hours she had been lying in bed without feeling the need to stand up and pace around like a caged animal.
A dreading suspicion in regards to the origin of the restlessness took hold of the Muggle-born. Had it been linked to Bellatrix, to the Death Eater's wellbeing? Was it the curse on her forearm that was the link? Or was it no link and had the curse on her arm just acted up in a different manner than Hermione was used to?
Bellatrix had been alive all along, just like Hermione had suspected since the moment just before she had gathered the books from the Restricted Section. Because when one was hit by the Killing Curse one did not dissolve into dust. And, so far, the books agreed.
But then how had Bellatrix stayed alive? Had her dead at the hands of Molly been an optical illusion? One which was so utterly in everyone's face - and which would have been so painfully obvious in any other situation - that it had been overlooked by the masses?
Hermione remembered the fascinating and lethal enchantments the Death Eater had left in the tunnels of Gringotts. Had Bellatrix used the same form of enchanting to create the illusion, if she had used any at all?
What about the energy emitted by the Killing Curse? Had Bellatrix used that in order to escape? Was that even possible?
The Muggle-born groaned softly in frustration whilst she put her hands over her eyes. No matter what she tried, tonight her thoughts circled around the one person she wanted to think as little about as possible. It was not a strange occurrence, with everything that had happened during the day, but it was still unwanted.
She needed a distraction, but reading her books was no option, for they too were linked to Bellatrix. And for once Hermione just did not want to use her brain all that much.
Gathering her focus she concentrated once more on the breathing of the two men in the room. She turned to face the direction from where Viktor's sounds came from. What if she would wake him? Would he be annoyed with her? She had never really been in such a predicament before.
Her naked feet made no noise on the wooden planks, though she only needed to take two steps and she was already at Viktor's bedside. She sat down on her knees and reached out for her lover. His arm was the first she felt under her touch, from there her hand travelled over to his shoulder and neck, to settle on his cheek. With a gentle caress, she made sure his hair was out of his eyes. And sitting like this, while she enjoyed the way his skin and hair felt underneath her fingertips, she waited for him to awaken.
Slowly he stirred and once he was conscious enough he tried to ask, "Hermy-own-ninny? Is that you? Is something wrong?"
"Yes, it's me, and yes, in fact, there is something terribly wrong," her voice had a seductive undertone, though she was not sure if Viktor had a clear enough mind to notice it, "I can't sleep and I need your help to remedy that."
From the moment they laid down on the temporary transfigured bed in the living room Hermione was freed from the circling thoughts that had pestered her the past couple of hours.
While her two men prepared breakfast Hermione decided to make a quick visit to Minerva, that is, if she was able to track her down. With any luck, the older woman was still in her office.
And luck was indeed on her side. She poked her head around the door and saw Minerva look up from her correspondence to see who had opened her door after a quiet knock. With a gesture of her hand, McGonagall motioned for Hermione to sit down opposite of her, "Pardon me, but I need to finish this letter before I can help you. If you would be so kind as to wait in the chair."
"Of course, take your time, Professor."
During the wait, a tray with a teapot, cups and saucers appeared at the side of the desk. Hermione contented herself with pouring them both a cup.
Minerva put her quill down after she had signed the letter, put the parchment into an envelope and magically sealed it. Then she placed it on the stack of finished letters to her right.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," Minerva said whilst she picked up her cup and gave a grateful nod as she looked over the rim of her glasses, "am I too presumptuous to believe that you came here for an update on Mrs Lestrange's whereabouts?"
The younger woman smiled ruefully over her cup, "It is what I came here for, so you aren't too presumptuous, in my opinion."
The Professor observed the student on the other side of her desk. Hermione had undergone a change in character, some personality traits had sharpened whereas others had softened. Even with their limited interactions, Minerva had noticed the change. She wanted to offer her office as a place, a safe haven, to come during the evenings and talk through the trauma Hermione had undergone during the war. There was obviously something haunting the young woman. But Minerva simply had not the time to do so. Merlin knew how little sleep she already got, with the reconstruction of not only Hogwarts but most of wizarding Britain as well, not to speak of the reformation in both the whole of the Ministry and the Wizengamot. And soon the preparations for the new school year had to begin, for there were far too few capable Professors who had survived the Second War.
There was too much on her plate as it was, so, instead of contemplating if this was an unhealthy way of processing past experiences Minerva caved in and simply told the young woman before her what she wanted to know, "She is held captive in an improvised cell in St. Mungos where she is receiving treatment. All the while she is kept shackled and chained, dosed and guarded around the clock.
"This is a temporary place, however. When Lestrange is fit enough to be transported she will be moved to a proper place of confinement."
Hermione took a sip as she let the words sink in.
Minerva put her cooling tea back on the saucer, she already regretted telling her student the truth. "Are you planning a visit to Mrs Lestrange?" After a moment of hesitation, she got a nod in response.
Hermione realized that Minerva had the mind to forbid her and the power to make it impossible for her to pay a visit to Bellatrix in her cell. But still, the Muggle-born thought it best to be honest. Besides, her wish to make a visit was quite transparent, lying about it would be foolish and hurtful.
For a long time, neither of them said anything, a period in which Minerva practically dissected Hermione with her eyes, who in turn observed her Professor's face, trying to see underneath the charms that kept Minerva's appearance impeccable. But, obviously, she did not succeed.
"I will message you with the exact location when Lestrange is no longer in a critical condition," Minerva said with a sigh as she banished her cold tea.
"Thank you, Headmistress. It means a lot to me."
"Just be careful when you go, Miss Granger. And until the start of the new school year, there is no need to call me that yet."
Luna discussed the purpose of lucid dreaming with Viktor and Harry. Hermione, who had her arm hooked with the Ravenclaw, was merely listening to them whilst they made their way through Muggle London. She had her own thoughts on the subject but felt no particular desire to share them.
Harry and she had bought new clothes, which were currently all stowed in her shoulder bag. Viktor and Harry had needed new shoes as well, so while they had been busy with that, Hermione had taken Luna to a bookstore and shown her some of the famous Muggle authors. And, of course, bought several of those books, since her personal collection had been lost with her previous bag when the Trio had been captured.
The group was on their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, where they would meet up with Ron, Ginny and Neville, to catch up and just be around one another. Though, another reason for the gathering was that some of them needed a new wand, their own being destroyed or lost somewhere during the war or the Battle at Hogwarts.
And so, after hugs or smiles and handshakes, the group of seven took a table at the tavern and while each was enjoying some kind of beverage the conversation went from the war to the future, from heavy to other more light-hearted subjects.
When two hours had past Neville noted that it was time to go to Ollivander, if they still wanted to get a new wand. The shops would close within an hour. Hermione smiled as she saw Neville get nervous and annoyed at the slow pace of the group. He glanced for the third time at his watch and as he looked up again he caught the young woman observing him.
The surprise on his face made Hermione wonder what there was to be surprised about, surely it was not strange for a friend to watch a friend? Though that was what started the strange tenseness between Fleur and me, Hermione worried to herself. Is it something in my eyes that unsettles people?
However, before her worries could truly manifest themselves Neville made them disappear to the depths of her mind, for a few seconds later Neville smiled his fond smile at her and his whole face lit up with it.
A minute later the group made their way through Diagon Alley. With as destination the rebuild wand store from Ollivander.
At a certain adjoined allay Hermione had to split from the group, stating that she needed to order some books. Harry and Viktor knew of this, she had informed them beforehand. Thus, it was of no surprise to her when Viktor wordlessly joined her.
Before long the rest of the group walked into the shop, a bell chiming softly as the front door opened. A shuffling could be heard from the back of the store while the group settled and waited. Harry stood nearest to the counter, wanting to apologize for the way he had behaved back at Shell Cottage.
The moment the old wandmaker came in sight and let his eyes fall on the individuals a broad smile appeared on his weathered face, yet it faltered slightly as his eyes roamed from face to face. Though he beamed once more when he met Harry's eyes again.
"Mister Olliv-" he began but was interrupted by the man himself.
"Mister Potter, it is such an honour that you came back for a new wand! I am still aggrieved for what happened to the previous one. But let's hope there is even a better match to be found today."
"That won't be necessary, Mister Ollivander," Harry said kindly, "we came here for Luna, Ron and Ginny."
Ron shared a look with him, he understood that their knowledge was better kept a secret. The fewer people who knew about the powers of the Elder wand, the better. Thus, before anyone could ask any questions he broke out a smile, looked at Luna and said as smoothly as he could, "Well, Luna, why don't you go first?"
Meanwhile, Hermione and Viktor walked hand in hand to Obscurus Books, enjoying the sights the shopping district had to offer, though it was still far from its former glory. But at least there were no longer buildings with broken windows or other damaged goods.
"What do you think of the others? Of my friends?" Hermione asked in Bulgarian. It would give them far more privacy and, honestly, they often - if not always - conversed in his mother tongue when there were no friends or acquaintances around.
She asked this because, until now, Viktor had never really been with her friends for longer than an hour (with the exception for Harry, they had been living together at camp, after all). It had not been intentional, but all these years Hermione had gone to Bulgaria during the summers, it had never been the other way around; it was just inconvenient with Viktor's Quidditch training and besides, she liked being in another country and experiencing the different culture.
"It was fine, they are fine," Viktor said absentmindedly, his eyes on the broom shop further down the alley.
"We can go there if you wish?" Hermione said after she had followed his stare. "But let me first order my books, then we can stay there till closing time."
He smiled at her and followed her inside the bookstore. She did not look around at the books on the bookshelves, aware that she would not be able to leave the shop without at least half a dozen books she did not come here for. Instead, she made a beeline for the counter. At which no one but the shop clerk was standing.
He was a thin boyish-looking man, though Hermione suspected he was a few years older than she was. His eyes became as round as saucers when they fell on Hermione, he straightened at once with a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. Which turned into a glimmer of hero worship the moment he saw who was walking beside her, with his hand comfortably entwined with hers.
"Mister Krum, i-it is an h-honour," stammered the clerk.
The couple mostly ignored it; Viktor was used to it and had no difficulty to bring his features in a neutral expression as he nodded, but Hermione could still feel uncomfortable at being faced with such behaviour sometimes. She steeled herself however and told the clerk the titles and authors of the books she wanted to order.
"O-of course, Miss Granger, the order will go out at once!" He said whilst writing down everything. "These are some rare books, but you have come to the right place, Miss, we will make sure to have them ready for you! And you probably already know, but I am telling you just to be sure: you will be notified when the books have arrived. Thank you for using our services, Miss Granger. I - uhm, we couldn't be prouder."
Both Viktor and she were grateful to walk out the front door and in the direction of the broomstore. They could hope that the people there would be a bit more down to earth. Which was perhaps a little foolish, since it was a store that specialised in Quidditch equipment besides the brooms.
When the couple arrived at the wandstore they let go of each other's hands and walked inside. By now Ron was the one being tended to by Ollivander, who was completely fixated on the reactions of the wands and talking excitedly to the young man he had before him.
Harry grinned as Hermione and Viktor came over to the group, "Took you two long enough, you missed a bunch of sparkles and some weird magic, but look here." He motioned to Luna, who carefully held up her new wand, like a proud mother with her new-born child. The colour of the wood was a leather-worn brown, with dark lines adorning it, giving the wood the impression as if it curled around its axis. The handle had a slight wave at the end.
"It is beautiful, Luna, absolutely stunning," Hermione said with an admiring tone.
The Ravenclaw showed a dreamy smile, "Made of Hazelwood, with a Unicorn's hair as the core, it's 11 1/4 inches long and slightly springy."
Ginny threw an arm over Luna's shoulders and added with a big grin, "Ollivander said he had wondered who would become the owner of this one. And that he no longer had to worry about it, now that he knew that Luna would take care of it."
Viktor asked Luna something, about the character of the wand and Hermione listened with interest for the answer. But before Luna could even really begin Ollivander exclaimed happily at that moment, which distracted her. She looked over at him and Ron.
"That is it! This is the chemistry the wand and you need. Now, please, be more careful this time around, Mister Weasley. No need to break this one, nor lose it."
Ron shrugged with a look of embarrassment on his face, "Third time is the charm, right?"
Though he sounded far too uncertain in Ollivander's ears. For a moment the old wandmaker wavered, almost as if he wanted to take back the wand in order to keep it safe from a horrible fate. But at last, he shook his head and turned to search for the other redhead in his shop. That was when he noticed the two new arrivals and the shorter one made his beaming grin return, "Ah, Miss Granger! What a pleasant surprise. Well, not really a surprise since your friends are here, but it is still a pleasant thing for you to visit. I began to wonder if you still remembered my promise to you, for I have, you know."
The young woman in question smiled politely and had her response ready, "Good evening, Mister Ollivander. It is good to see you back in your shop."
"And it certainly feels fantastic as well. Made sure the workers repaired it just the way it was. Something Meribeth is not too happy about, says it gets too stuffy. Pft. The girl doesn't know what she is talking about." Ollivander waved the air as if he had to get rid of an annoying fly, then he turned his attention back to their conversation. "Now, how about a new wand for you, sweet girl?"
Hermione felt touched by his willingness to keep his promise, but she declined nonetheless, "Perhaps another time, sir, there isn't much time left and Ginny still needs a new wand as well." It was the perfect excuse, a beautiful white lie, no one would think twice about it.
"Well then, if you are certain about it." Ollivander looked her over a moment longer, time in which Hermione began to wonder if her excuse was not as foolproof as she had believed. When he turned towards Ginny, however, he was smiling once again, "That leaves you, Miss Weasley. Ready for your new wand? I believe I know which of my wands matches you perfectly well."
The old wandmaker was busy shuffling through the small corridor at the side, knowing with precision where he would find the wand he had in mind. Ginny bounded over to the counter and leaned forward to see every movement Ollivander made.
Meanwhile, Viktor was still listening intently to what Luna was telling about the reactions of the wand when she created the first spell.
"- and after that, a soft and warm tingle ran from my fingers up my arm. It was like the feeling I get when I watch rain dance over a lake."
After the three had paid, the group thanked Ollivander gratefully for his services. He grinned from behind the counter and reminded them to take good care of their wands.
"Let's celebrate," Neville said as they walked out on the street. "Let's have a drink to celebrate the newly purchased wands."
"Grand idea, mate!" Ron said and clapped Neville on the back, with a beaming face he looked around at the others for agreement. "Honestly, I could do with some food as well."
"That's the thing, Ron, you can always eat," Ginny rolled her eyes, "though, truth be told, it has been hours since we had lunch."
"I would like to stay here longer as well," Luna commented, "It is good for the mind to be in places that had previously been neglected or destroyed."
"Then let's head back to the Leaky Cauldron," Harry decided. "Their home-made meals are very tasty. At least, a few years back they were."
Night had fallen a long time ago when the three of them arrived back at their tent. Half of the remaining camp seemed already sound asleep.
Hermione considered what to do in regards to Fleur's borrowed clothes. She should probably wait till morning to give back what belonged to the French woman. Then again, she could go there right now and see if there was still anyone awake to give the clothes to. But, honestly, she did not feel like going, Hermione was tired and the idea of seeing the quarter-Veela now made her feel uneasy. Not that it would be different any other time; that last conversation and the awkwardness was just too fresh in her memories. But she was aware that the prospect of waiting any longer with returning the borrowed clothes did not feel good either.
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair to get some curls out of her eyes; she was still on the fence in regards to this.
"What has you so tense all of a sudden?" Harry inquired as he walked past her with a book about Quidditch techniques in hand. He had been meaning to talk with Viktor through some of the techniques described in the book.
Hermione busied herself with gathering the mugs on the table as she answered, "I am contemplating if I should bring Fleur her clothes, but I don't feel like going right now."
"Then wait till you do," he said over his shoulder.
"But she has been waiting for so long already. And now that I have my own clothes I should bring them to her. Shouldn't I?"
"I doubt that Fleur will make a fuss if you wait one or two more days. But if it really bothers you, then you should bring those clothes back tonight." He said and sat down on the couch.
"Yeah, you are probably right... But what about the time? Isn't it far too late for me to go there now?"
"As I said, do what feels right. You can wait till tomorrow morning if that is what you want."
"But I can't make her wait longer than necessary, Harry, that would just be lousy of me," she said as she put the mugs in the sink.
Harry held his hands and book up in the air, in an exasperated gesture, he was obviously already tired of the circling discussion, "Then go. Hermione, Fleur won't be insulted one way or another, just talk to her. Explain yourself." He had turned around in his seat in order to look at her, Harry was no longer only talking about bringing back those clothes.
She knew he was right and gave a half-hearted nod. With another heavy sigh, Hermione went to the bedroom, to make sure she had all of Fleur's clothing. She would do it now.
In her new black jeans and a light-blue blouse, Hermione made her way through the camp, her shoulder bag in one hand. She would not risk carrying the clothes in her arms, fearing the smaller pieces - like socks - might unnoticedly fall to the ground or be taken up by a gust of wind never to return. It was cold outside, but she would manage the short distance.
Hermione knocked on the front flap (which was enchanted to function just like a wooden door in case people needed to knock, just like all other magical tents) and spoke up, "Good evening, is Fleur still awake? Can I come in?"
"Indeed, I am," came Fleur's voice, followed closely by the sound of wards being taken down, "come on in."
A young man Hermione did not recognize sat in the seating area of the living room with William and Fleur. They all had clearly been enjoying a conversation accompanied by some Firewiskey, if the bottles were anything to go by. Hermione felt her unease triple as her gaze ran over the scene. She should not have come.
"Sorry for disturbing, but I brought you your clothes." She said awkwardly and held her bag up as if she needed the evidence.
"Zhat is alrigz, let me -" Fleur struggled up from her seat in the chair. "Let me 'elp you. Or, non, zhe closet, my closet. Bring you zere, oui?" Hermione noticed how intense her French accent was, now that alcohol ran through the quarter-Veela's bloodstream. It was like Fleur had never outgrown it.
There was the slightest sway in Fleur's walk as she came towards Hermione. Meanwhile, William merrily asked from his seat, "Want a drink, Hermione?"
The Muggle-born shook her head and forced a smile, she did not worry if it was a convincing one or not. These three were far too tipsy - or downright drunk - to see the difference. Now that her eyes had gotten accustomed to the low lighting in the tent, she could see more details (other than the bottles of wine). The red flush on the noses and cheeks of the three being the most important of those details.
Fleur swayed to the corridor that lead to the bedroom and motioned for Hermione to follow, who obediently went after her. They did not talk to one another. Although Fleur repeatedly muttered to herself in French, but it was too slurred for Hermione to understand the words.
When they were in the bedroom the French woman opened the closet doors, stood there for a few seconds, and then turned around and made for her bed to plop down upon it. She sat there like a queen on her throne, looking down her nose on her subject.
For a moment Hermione merely watched Fleur watch her, feeling both disbelieve and annoyance at the quarter-Veela's behaviour. Yet, in the end, she shrugged the annoyance away, mentally repeating to herself that Fleur was drunk, that it could not be helped. Without another glance at the older woman, nor a single word, she started for the closet to put all the clothes where she suspected they belonged. She pulled them from her bag which currently laid at her feet.
As she did so the Muggle-born debated with herself if it would be wise to discuss the garden-incident now. Most of her being was definitely against the notion, but there was this tiny part of her that wanted to speak up about it now. To be done with it. After all, there is the saying that 'a drunk mind speaks a sober heart'. Though, Hermione highly doubted this to be true. And besides, Fleur needed to be able to remember their conversation the next day, which was highly unlikely at this point. Which meant it would be all for nought.
"You 'ave been avoiding me, righz, 'Ermione?" Fleur's question cut through the silence but she did not wait for an answer, in fact, she answered it herself, "Yes, you 'ave. Zhough I know you 'ave been important elsewhere. And I 'ave been avoiding you as well. Which, 'onestly, eet was not zhat 'ard, since you are never 'ere."
The younger woman kept silent as she continued with folding the clothes, she was almost halfway done.
"I 'ave been doing work een zhe camp, whenever I am not needed een one meeting or anozher. Zhey always seem to find a reason to get togezher. Foolish men."
Hermione wanted to let her shoulders droop, but that would give the wrong impression so she kept a straight back as she wondered how Fleur could be such a weird drunk; she acted so high and mighty. Or had she, Hermione, been blind to this side of Fleur during her stay at Shell Cottage? Had 15-year-old Hermione been correct to think of Fleur as an arrogant snob? She could hardly believe the thought, no, just... no. Fleur is not like that, that is not the Fleur I befriended in Shell Cottage.
It had to be the alcohol; some people are happy drunks, others are aggressive drunks or whatever-else drunks, and apparently, there were a select few - one being Fleur - who are better-than-thou drunks.
Or is it something else? Hermione wondered again, am I missing something? Forgetting something crucial for the equation? Is it her Veela heritage?
With these thoughts, the Muggle-born put the last garment on the hanger and into the closet. "I put everything in your closet, Fleur." She said as she turned back around to face her companion, "So, I will be going."
Fleur blinked in surprise at Hermione's statement, her eyes were practically black because of her dilated pupils. "But... But where are you going? 'Ow can I take care of you eef you go away?"
Now it was Hermione's time to blink in surprise, where was this coming from all of a sudden? Can drunks be overtly caring and snobby at the same time? Or did drunkenness go in phases? She had no idea. Viktor rarely touched alcohol with his strict Quidditch regime, Harry was the sleepy and sad drunk whereas Ron was the happy drunk. At least whenever she had been there to witness it.
"I... Uhm... I am just on the other side of the camp," somehow she got the feeling that pointing out that she did not need to be taken care of would not do much good to the conversation.
"Righz, I knew zhat. You gave me breakfast, I remember." Fleur rubbed her face with her hands then looked distractedly towards the open door from which came laughter of the two drunk men in the living room.
Is she sobering up? Hermione decided she would not stay to find out, she wanted to go to bed. She made her way to the door but spun around as she reached it. "Good night, Fleur. I want to talk to you soon, but I don't think that right now is a good idea."
"Bonne nuit, 'Ermione." Came the simple French reply.
The two men did not even notice her exit and that was perfectly fine with her. As Hermione walked through the cold night air she felt grateful that Viktor rarely touched alcohol; she did not know what she would do if he was a snobby drunk like Fleur.
Hermione had given all the clothes back. All but one. Within the safety of her shoulder bag, there was still the sweater with the bloodstains on it, which did not want to get out of the fabric. She reasoned with herself that she could hardly give Fleur back a piece of clothing covered in old blood. The fact that she had not bought herself a new sweater because of this reason was easily ignored for the time being. And it had certainly nothing to do with the fact that, once in a while, she believed she could still catch the scent of Fleur in the sweater's fabric.
When she returned to the tent only Viktor was left in the living room. He lay all over the couch, his eyes were closed. Looking as if he were fast asleep. His breathing was even however, so she knew he was still awake. For a moment she watched how the shadows cast by the dim light made him look a lot older, and still, she found him attractive. She broke the figurative spell after half a dozen seconds and put the wards up, for once feeling the need to murmur the incantations aloud. She was too tired and distracted by what had just happened in Fleur's tent to do them non-verbally. When that was done she kicked off her boots and put her bag on the table before making her way over to the couch.
"You think I can fit in next to you?" she asked softly as she neared. "Or shall I expand the surface?"
Viktor cracked his eyes open and spread his arms out to her, "Lay on top of me, I am cold." His smile told her the contrary was true, but she made no remark on it, she hummed instead.
After some manoeuvring, accompanied with a giggle from her, Hermione laid with her head on Viktor's chest and her arms a bit haphazardly over and around him. Whilst he had her wrapped securely in his arms. After a few seconds of lying like this, he took a deep breath, kept it caged within him, and let it go free. With it, his body relaxed underneath her. All the while she was listening to his heartbeat, her eyes closed; she too felt like the tension was being drained out of her body.
She felt like she could easily fall asleep to the drum of Viktor's heartbeat, but first, she wanted a real answer to a question she had asked a few hours earlier.
"So, what about today, did you enjoy being around my friends?"
"No, it was horrible, they were awful and their humour is dry and -" She hit him playfully on his arm which made him laugh, "No, really, they were horrible to me, they tried to befriend me, Hermione."
"Why do I love you?"
"Because I am a world-famous Quidditch player, of course."
Hermione propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him, a very unimpressed look on her face. And in her driest tone of voice, she said, "Right, how could I have forgotten."
He laughed again, which made her grin in satisfaction. Viktor cupped her cheeks and brought his lips to hers.
Fleur gripped her head as a groan slipped from between her lips. Luckily the room was still relatively dark, despite the light that seeped in from the open door, or she would have even worse pains than the current throbbing headache. She needed a potion and several glasses of water.
With careful movements she came out from under the blanket, only now noticing that the space beside her was empty and had not been slept in at all. The room danced before her eyes as she managed to stand up, clutching the nightstand for support. She reached for her stomach and held a hand full of clothes. Luckily, she did not have to run for the toilet, other than being hungover her body was relatively calm. When she looked down she saw the clothes from the day before. Fleur realized she had never taken them off.
When she finally - for she walked at the speed of her grand-mère, with one hand on the wall at all times - entered the living room she saw on her way to the kitchenette that Bill and Hendrik had fallen asleep in their seats. They would have stiff necks for the rest of the day, of that she was sure.
First, she went to the cupboard to get the potion she needed to lessen her headache and after she had gulped that down she reached for a glass and a can to fill the latter with water so that she could take a seat at the dining table.
All the while she tried to remember what had happened the night before. Why had she ended up in the bedroom, falling asleep without even taking off her clothes, whilst the men had not moved a hair from their places?
Slowly, as she sipped her second glass of water, memories trickled into existence. Hendrik stating that he needed to go to his own tent before he could no longer walk, which Bill and she had not allowed, saying that they would transfigure a bed for him. But then more wine and laughter had followed. And after that, her memories were all too fuzzy.
Someone had entered their house? Had Fleur helped them find something? She was not sure if she had. The French woman took the can and refilled her glass and sipped her water again. Her eyes stared blindly at the bookcase in the corner of the room, an image was forming in the fog of her mind. It was Hermione, who had been watching her curiously, with disbelief visible in her eyes. Which became an expression of disinterest the moment Hermione shrugged her shoulders; as if she had mentally distanced herself from whatever Fleur had said or done.
Dread knotted in her stomach, but no matter how Fleur tried to clear her mind, she could not remember what had been said between the two of them. She closed her eyes, moved her head to let her forehead rest in the palm of her hand and muttered softly her regret into the silence, "Merdre..."
"I am going to the Owlery for a bit, be right back!" Harry said as he looked from outside through the open front flap into the tent.
Hermione waved him goodbye, though he was already gone. All the while she munched on her toast and popped a slice of cucumber in her mouth to add more taste. In her mind, she was going over what she could do for the day, perhaps retreat to the library and continue her research there. She had no desire to be surrounded by many people. The nightmare had stalked her dreams and had made her sleep practically useless, as always. And as a result, she felt mentally battered. Especially since the previous day had been so eventful. Not for the first time, Hermione told herself she should have taken the Dreamless Sleeping draught.
The Muggle-born sighed in both defeat and relief, At least I can just be with my books and read in my favourite chair in the library, with no one to bother me.
She was about to take another bite from her food when a barn owl flew through the open front flap of the tent. It dropped a small piece of parchment on the table, made a U-turn in the air and flew right out of the tent again.
A bit confused by the strange behaviour of the owl Hermione grabbed what the owl had dropped for her. Most often the delivery flyers wanted a treat for all their hard work, which was reasonable. But she did not let the owl's behaviour bother her for long, the message in her hand was that much more interesting. It was a short message written in a handwriting Hermione would recognize anywhere.
Dear Miss Granger,
This morning I was told that Mrs Lestrange is no longer in a critical condition, though she is far from being declared recovered. I advise you to wait a day or two before you make the visit.
They still keep her at St. Mungos. On the outskirts of corridor 121, which is the department for mental health crises. The number of her 'room' is 0.529.
Be careful, Hermione, even though Lestrange is kept under surveillance she is still a dangerous woman.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Hermione knew she should wait for Harry to return, at which point she could tell him what she wanted to do. She knew she had to give him the opportunity to protest and when that would not succeed in making her rethink the idea, let him demand that he would go with her. She knew that if she did not wait for him that he would be angry with her. And that, in his anger, he would likely unintentionally mention her torture to Viktor, who she had yet to tell about the events at Malfoy Manor; there was still so much about the war she had not told him about. And she knew that after hearing that from Harry Viktor would be cross with her too.
And yet, despite knowing all of this, she did not wait.
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