47: After the War: Part 3
After leaving Ginny in the hallway at St. Mungo's, Hermione returned to the lodge. The visit had tired her more than she cared to admit, and so she'd soaked in a hot bath and taken a nap before making her way to the small library. Lucius found her later that night, surrounded by books. He listened patiently as she explained what she'd learned about Harry's condition and smiled at her desire to research and help if at all possible.
"Have you ever heard of such a thing? Of a fracture in your magic?" she asked. He'd guided her to the sofa, still concerned about her overexerting herself, and placed her bare feet in his lap as she spoke.
He looked thoughtful. "I have not. However, it makes sense, I suppose. I cannot imagine the body escaping damage due to the horcrux and then the killing curse that destroyed it."
"But he continued to fight. Harry was up and fighting after that," she reminded him. "It wasn't until after Voldemort was killed that Harry lost consciousness."
"Mmm…a delayed reaction, perhaps? Or perhaps like you, adrenaline sustained him until his body had been pushed to its limit."
"I don't know. I just…I feel like I'm missing something."
He huffed a laugh. "Pet, you aren't a healer. I mean this kindly and not in a disparaging way, but there's surely a lot you're missing based on your lack of training."
Hermione looked at the books on the table and felt sheepish. Lucius was right, of course, she told herself. How arrogant of her to assume she knew more than the healers did. When they finished their conversation, Lucius stood from the sofa and extended a hand to her.
"Come, I've brought something for you," he said as he led her from the library.
His "something" turned out to be a small rack of witch's robes.
"What is this?" she asked, looking at the clothing.
"You've received a summons from Shacklebolt - it arrived whilst you were at St. Mungo's - and you cannot go to the Ministry dressed as you are."
She looked down at her jeans and jumper. The denim was worn in places, and the jeans were at least a size too big thanks to her time on the run with limited access to food. She had a few changes of clothing in her beaded bag, but they were all in dire need of a good cleaning, and all of them were more practical for camping in the woods than meeting with someone important.
"Where did all of this come from?" she asked as she touched the garments lightly.
"Madame Malkin's. It's nothing elaborate or custom, just some of what she had readily available. If you are under the protection of my house, then it would be expected we would have something for you to wear, but nothing so ostentatious as custom robes this soon after the battle."
She nodded in amazement. He really did think of everything. All of the robes were conservative and modest and in shades of dark purples, blues, greens, and greys. Despite the subdued colour palette, the styles were very similar to robes she'd seen worn by some of the more traditional pureblood girls at Hogwarts. There was also a black robe at the back of the rack, devoid of elegant trim, lace, or other adornments.
"For the funerals," he said, noticing her hand on the robe.
She yanked it back as if she'd been burned.
"As awkward as this may be, you should attend Narcissa's funeral, and there will surely be others you wish to attend."
"You… you want me to attend your wife's funeral?"
He glanced away, and she heard his sigh.
"Not particularly. As you know, my marriage was not… a love match. But she was the mother of my only child, and she is entitled to a funeral befitting her station."
"And having your mistress there is the thing to do among the Sacred 28?" she responded dryly.
He looked back in her direction, a twist to his lips that hinted at amusement.
"Given the tendency toward arranged marriages in pureblood culture, I suspect that there have been many mistresses at many funerals in the past," he said as he slipped his hands into his pockets.
"But not muggleborn?"
"Well, if they were, they probably weren't invited to the wife's funeral." He paused and offered her a gentle smile. "I appreciate your attempt at humour, but in all seriousness, you should be there. As I've offered you the protection of my house, people will talk if you are not there, especially given your close friendship with Mr. Potter and the role Narcissa played at the end, her lie to the Dark Lord in the forest that night."
"I see. Will I…" she hesitated, unsure of how to gracefully ask the next question.
He raised an eyebrow with a look that she knew was a silent request to continue.
"Will I be with you and Draco during the service?"
"No. That is only reserved for family by blood or marriage. You are considered an honoured guest, given your role as a ward of my house."
"And Draco? I cannot imagine he is remotely happy with my presence there."
Lucius sighed again, and Hermione was suddenly aware of how tired he looked.
"Draco is aware of my expectations and will behave appropriately, however much he may dislike the situation. Given the loss he has suffered and his grief, it is best that you keep your distance. All in attendance will understand and will not expect any grand gestures from the supposed couple."
He looked deeply uncomfortable at both the subject of his wife's funeral and of the mention of her false relationship with Draco, and Hermione felt a twinge of absurd jealousy, mixed with guilt. Guilt that she'd caused them all added stress with the lie that she and Draco were a couple, guilt over the relief she felt at knowing that Lucius was free from the bonds of marriage, and jealousy over the long years Narcissa held the role of his wife. Hermione glanced at the black funeral robe again before deciding it was best to change the subject.
"You said I'd been summoned by Kingsley?" she asked, afraid to dwell too long on Narcissa.
"Yes. The Ministry is somewhat locked down at this time, but they've agreed to open a floo for you at the appointed time. You can expect additional questioning about where you were with Potter and what happened between the time your trio fled and the battle."
"Is there… I mean… do we need to talk about keeping our stories straight?"
He shook his head as he passed her a letter from the Ministry. "My understanding is that they want to know about your journey with Potter and Weasley and the activities you undertook after leaving Hogwarts at the close of your 6th year. Replace me with Draco if you speak of our relationship. You'll be fine."
Hermione dug her fingers into her palm nervously. She did not think she would be fine at all.
~oOo~
The Ministry of Magic was in more disarray than Hermione had ever seen it. The lobby still contained piles of debris, and everywhere she looked, office windows had been magically patched. It appeared that a battle of some sort had taken place here as well either during or shortly after the battle at Hogwarts. She'd expected a buzzing hive of activity, but it was surprisingly quiet as a young Auror escorted her to the lifts and then down a long and unfamiliar corridor.
"Where is everyone?" she asked, startling herself as her voice echoed off the dark marble.
"They're keeping a lot of people out whilst everything's sorted. Don't want to have the place infiltrated by any Death Eaters wanting to do more damage before they're caught. Makes life a lot easier for us to secure the place for now. I assume they'll bring everyone back soon though," he added in an optimistic voice.
She was taken to a large room and was seated in an uncomfortable chair at a plain conference table. She anxiously fidgeted, rubbing the braid trim on her dark purple robe. It had been extremely generous and thoughtful of Lucius to ensure she looked presentable and professional, but she couldn't help but feel awkward, like a young girl playing dress up in someone else's clothing.
She was already nervous, worried she'd say something wrong, would ruin the cover story she'd hastily created about a forbidden romance with Draco, and being left alone to fret in the empty conference room was not helping her nerves. She was unsure how long she waited alone in that room, but it was long enough that she'd worked herself into a nervous state.
At long last, Kingsley came in, accompanied by several other men in dark robes.
"Hermione, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. As you can imagine, my schedule is a bit mad these days."
He sat across the table from her and introduced his colleagues. She recognised Dawlish and Robards from Hogwarts. The other men, some of whom looked to be closer to 100, were introduced to her as members of the Wizengamot and as senior staff who were there primarily to take diligent notes of this interview.
"Well. Shall we begin?" Kingsley said, offering her a friendly smile.
Hermione clasped her fingers in her lap nervously and nodded.
The questions began, and it seemed as if they would never stop. The interrogation she'd faced from Shacklebolt, Dawlish, and Robards at Hogwarts after the battle had centred on what the Malfoys had done to aid Harry and the light. This interview was apparently intended to cover everything else.
She walked them through everything she knew about Dumbledore, about how he was dying from a curse and had arranged for Snape to kill him, about Snape's memories in the pensieve and whether they might still be in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, so the Ministry could verify the content. Severus Snape, she thought to herself, would probably hate the idea of people seeing these memories, but she had little time to think on this before the group ploughed forward with more questions.
She spoke about the horcruxes and everything she knew about them from Dumbledore, from Snape's memories, and from her own research with Harry and Lucius. From the questions and the bits of conversation she'd heard between Shacklebolt and the others, she wondered if they planned to suppress all information about horcruxes. Hermione bit her lip as she considered this. If it were widely known what Voldemort did to cheat death in 1981, would another dark wizard or witch attempt the same? The idea of suppressing knowledge, or deciding who could and could not have information about magic - particularly magic the Ministry decreed "dark" had long bothered her, but this was the one area where she thought it might be for the best if all knowledge of horcruxes was wiped from the world.
She explained how they'd pieced together what Voldemort had used as a horcrux and how they'd destroyed each one. Her voice broke when she explained that Harry himself had carried a horcrux within him.
There was no clock in the room, but she knew she'd been there for hours. At some point, one of the Aurors left and returned with a glass of water, for which she was immensely grateful as her poor throat was unused to interminable conversation.
She answered even more questions about how she'd received information from Lucius about Death Eater movement and how she'd relayed it to Sirius for the Order of the Phoenix to respond. She had not kept a journal during those months on the run, but she had a strong memory, and she recounted as many details as she possibly could, speaking slowly and clearly for the benefit of the harried note takers.
Her stomach rumbled with more and more vehemence as she spoke, and when she finally reached the point of feeling faint from hunger, she had no choice but to speak up.
"Can we…I've not eaten, and I don't feel well. Is there any way we can take a break or perhaps come back tomorrow?"
The men across the table from her paused, a brief quiet conversation took place. One of the Aurors left the room and then returned moments later.
Kingsley offered her an apologetic but tense smile.
"It appears the cafeteria is not functional at the moment. I've got another meeting, but we can regroup another time. This information is important, but not as important as capturing the Death Eaters who escaped after the battle. Someone will owl you about a future meeting," he said as his colleagues stood and began gathering their parchments.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Her conversation with Ginny at the hospital flashed through her head quickly.
"Wait! Kingsley!" she said quickly as she stood as well.
In a halting voice, she told the interim minister about Ron's disappearance and how he'd not yet been found.
"Is there anything you can do? His family is desperate to know what's happened to him."
"I know. Arthur's already spoken to me. I promise we're doing everything we can."
His tone of voice was reassuring, but she didn't miss the grim look in his eyes. 'Everything we can' was probably not very much at this point, given the apparent state of the Ministry.
~oOo~
There was an owl waiting for her when she returned to the lodge that evening, bearing a letter from Ginny Weasley with the details of Fred's funeral. She attended it alone, as Lucius thought it best not to antagonise Arthur Weasley with his or Draco's presence. The family was distraught over Fred's death and Ron's disappearance, and there had apparently been a huge argument over whether to wait for the funeral until they had more answers about Ron. The consensus among the family was that he was surely alive somewhere, but she caught the strained look in Arthur's eyes as Molly insisted her youngest son was not dead. She suspected that he feared the worst but was unable or unwilling to say so.
Hermione sat near the family, at Ginny's request, and cried with them during the service as Fred was laid to rest in the cemetery at Ottery St. Catchpole, near Molly's brothers, who'd been killed during Voldemort's first reign of terror. George was despondent and looked as if he'd been shattered to pieces by the loss of his twin. She hugged him tightly after the service and whispered to him how sorry she was for his loss, knowing the words meant little to someone grieving as deeply as he was. He seemed as if he was still in shock, barely capable of responding to anyone.
Afterward, Hermione made polite conversation with the people she recognised from Hogwarts. Parvati Patil had asked about Draco, and Hermione excused his absence by saying that he was barely coping with the death of his mother. It was an accurate enough statement. She sat numbly with her former roommate as Parvati cried about Fred and about Lavender. She had forgotten how close the two girls had been, but all she could see in her mind when Lavender's name came up was the horrific manner in which she'd died.
A funeral for a friend and classmate who died young would have been sad enough already, but combined with the aftermath of the battle they'd just survived, it was just too much. Hermione felt overwhelmed by the number of people there and by the palpable feeling of grief that hung over everyone because they all knew that Fred's funeral was just the first of many that would come as all of the bodies were recovered and claimed from Hogwarts.
Ron's body was not among those found on the school grounds. She knew that fiendfyre and other magical spells could reduce a human body to ash or vanish it entirely, so the lack of a body wasn't wholly conclusive, but it did give the Weasleys and Hermione some hope. There were reports that he'd been present at Hogwarts at some point in the battle, but she had no way of knowing if it was really him or if witnesses had mistaken another member of the Weasley family for him. Molly steadfastly refused to believe Ron was dead, although she had no answer for where he might be. In a Death Eater's dungeon somewhere? Obliviated and lost, wandering the countryside? No one knew, and so Hermione did what she could and wrote to Kingsley again after Fred's funeral and asked him to question every captured Death Eater about her friend. He may have left her and Harry, but Hermione wasn't ready to give up on him.
She was bolstered in her belief of his survival by the number of other witches and wizards who'd lost loved ones in the war. Ron was one of many who'd mysteriously vanished before or during the final battle. She'd been assured by Lucius and Kingsley both that the Ministry was putting together a division of the Auror office to search for those who'd disappeared and that recovering every last possible witch or wizard was a priority for the Ministry.
In between her visits to St. Mungo's to see Harry, whose condition sadly had not changed, and follow up meetings with various Aurors and Ministry officials, Hermione attended funerals. Lucius still feared for her safety, but she knew that she needed to go. After all, it's what Harry would have done had he been able.
At Lavender's funeral, her mother sought Hermione out, whispering to her in hushed tones through her tears as she gripped Hermione's arm.
"Someone told me. They said you were there that night. That someone killed the monster who did this to my little girl. Do you know who it was? No one seems to know who it was. I want to know who it was."
Gruesome images of the spell she cast that night flitted through her memory, of the way Greyback's head had been sliced cleanly off, blood spurting everywhere, on top of Lavender's ravaged body. Hermione had not known then if she was alive or dead at the time, but she'd prayed that the girl had already been killed before the werewolf sunk his teeth into her.
She did not want to admit her role in this to Lavender's mum, both because she did not want to relive the memories of that night and because she had her own guilt over her actions during battle. She'd done her best to keep Harry focused on their end goal, to not be distracted by each fight happening around them, but people had died. They died fighting whilst she and Harry ran past them under an invisibility cloak, desperate to find and destroy the last horcruxes.
Hermione swallowed the bile in her throat.
"No, I'm sorry, I don't know. But I'm glad he's dead. I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Brown," she said hoarsely.
She left shortly thereafter, unable to handle any more.
Remus's funeral was one of the most heartbreaking ones she attended. Tonks had gone into labour after learning of her husband's death, and so she attended the funeral clutching his newborn son, Teddy, named Edward Remus after the father and grandfather he would never know.
Lucius and Draco attended that funeral with Hermione, as Andromeda was Narcissa's sister, even though they'd been long estranged. Hermione found it peculiar how interconnected with the Black family Lucius was: Andromeda had been the witch he desired, Narcissa the one he married and would soon bury, and Bellatrix the one he killed.
Regardless, she was thankful for his presence because the very sight of Andromeda - and her shocking resemblance to Bellatrix - caused Hermione to stumble. Had Lucius not gripped her upper arm, she might have fallen on the wet grass of the cemetery. She'd met the woman before, but seeing her at the funeral, looking like a saner version of Bellatrix, made Hermione's breath catch in her throat. She'd had to walk away to compose herself before rejoining Lucius and Draco.
Andromeda looked surprised to see the Malfoy men, and for a brief and horrifying moment, Hermione was afraid they'd be asked to leave. The older witch's eyes cut to Hermione then, eyeing her quizzically before giving her a brief nod and turning away. It was a look that suggested concern but somehow also grief and resignation. Whatever Andromeda thought about Hermione's presence with Draco and Lucius, she kept to herself.
They remained in the back of the crowd, for there were already whispers and hissed words about the presence of two marked Death Eaters at Remus Lupin's funeral. Hermione suspected that wands would have been drawn had she not been there with them. Draco mostly stared at the ground and didn't say much to anyone, her included. Lucius was stoic throughout the funeral, and she suspected he was occluding, for she could not see any other way someone could remain that calm whilst listening to Tonks's gut-wrenching sobs as she cradled her baby. He silently passed Hermione a handkerchief as she cried. She would have liked to lean on him, to receive physical comfort in her grief, but he was still playing the role of grieving widower.
Sirius left Harry's bedside to attend Remus's funeral, sitting near the front with Tonks and Andromeda, and offering them both supportive hugs. He looked disapprovingly at Hermione when he saw her with the Malfoys but mercifully did not try to pick a fight with Lucius. Harry's godfather looked worse for wear, she thought. It was clear he'd not slept more than a few hours at a stretch in weeks. Still, he held baby Teddy at one point after the service, crying as he cradled his friend's only child.
Just two days after Remus was laid to rest, a service was held at Malfoy Manor for the Lady Malfoy, and it was an exceptionally surreal experience for Hermione. From the time she began her relationship with Lucius, she'd hoped and prayed for a way for them to be together, and Voldemort had provided it by killing Lucius's wife. Hermione knew that logically, it was not her fault Narcissa was dead, but she couldn't shake the sense of guilt she felt, knowing that Lucius was free, free of Voldemort and free of his wife, but that it had come at the expense of Narcissa's life. They were still trapped by the wizarding world's assumption that she was Draco's paramour, but that was a small matter compared to what they'd already overcome.
She was also on edge. The day before the service, three masked Death Eaters had attacked a wizarding village near Manchester, killing two and injuring a half dozen more. Nearly all of Voldemort's inner circle were accounted for - either dead or captured - but there were others who were clearly not ready to give up the fight. Lucius had spent much of his spare time before the service laying new wards around the manor grounds in an attempt to keep out those who would seek to harm him or his family for the role they'd played in the war. Hermione trusted his magic explicitly, but it still caused her concern that someone might try to harm him.
And then there was Draco.
If there was ever a day when Draco was apt to give away their ruse and denounce her as a homewrecker or a whore, it was on the day of his mother's funeral. Lucius apparently shared her concern - or perhaps the funeral always would have proceeded in this manner in line with obscure pureblood etiquette unfamiliar to her - but he'd arranged it so that only blood relatives or those bound in marriage to blood relatives were near the front, surrounding the casket.
To Hermione's surprise, the remaining members of the Black family attended, even Sirius. He arrived with Andromeda and Tonks, who was holding Teddy. Hermione could not help but wonder if this was an instance where blood trumped prior political allegiances or if they'd come out of respect for Narcissa's lie to Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, a lie that had bought Harry time and gotten him back into the school. Behind the close family members, there was an array of mostly blond witches and wizards, who Hermione surmised were more distant cousins - members of the Rosier family and Malfoy cousins, some from France.
Hermione stayed to the back of the sizable crowd, dressed in the same black robes Lucius had provided for her, watching her lover from afar. Lucius stood ramrod straight for the entire service, a hand firmly clasped on Draco's shoulder. She could not see their faces from where she stood, but she could see the subtle movement of Draco's shoulders that indicated he was crying. Her feelings about Lucius's son were complicated. She hated him for the awful things he'd said and done to her, but she couldn't help but feel pity for him on this day. His grief was palpable. She knew from her own experience of wiping her parents' memories, just how devastating their loss was, though hers was only a temporary loss.
Following the service, Narcissa's casket was interred in an ornate mausoleum on the manor grounds where generations of Malfoys had been laid to rest. There had to be some sort of undetectable extension charm on the place, for it did not seem remotely large enough to hold so many. The mausoleum was located past the gardens, on a small hill that was shaded by trees and overlooked a lake. It was a peaceful location, she thought, as she followed the crowd down the stone path back to the gardens, where elves had laid out food and drink and had cast warming charms to keep everyone comfortable outdoors.
Witches and wizards in black milled about, conversing in small groups. It was a far bigger gathering of people than she would have expected. According to Lucius, there had already been a story in the 'Daily Prophet' about the role Narcissa had played in the final battle, and that, combined with the revelation that the Malfoy men had been spies for the light, had apparently generated a great deal of interest in the family.
As she wandered through the crowd, speaking politely with those she knew, Hermione was aware of the stares and whispers. There were some purebloods in attendance who did not approve of a Malfoy taking up with a muggle-born, and there were others present who came out of either respect for the efforts the Malfoys had made during the war or out of curiosity over the family and Lucius's offer of protection to a muggleborn. She had the fleeting wish for Harry's invisibility cloak - hiding underneath it, out of sight but still close to Lucius, would have made her a lot more comfortable than feeling so many eyes on her every move whilst she tried to stem her own anxiety and turbulent emotions.
When she at last was able to make her way to Lucius, he greeted her with a sombre expression and shook her hand in front of the assembled crowd and told her that she honoured Narcissa's memory with her presence. A camera flashed, as Draco looked over at her, eyes red-rimmed from tears. She was told much later that the press portrayed it as a restrained, proper pureblood heir looking lovingly at the object of his affections. Clearly the photographer missed the glare Draco gave her a second later.
As the crowd wound down and people began to make their departures, Hermione walked the opposite direction, toward the back of the gardens and down the stone path that led back toward the mausoleum, wanting a moment to herself. She felt emotionally wrung out from the events of the afternoon, especially coming after so many other funerals. She paused roughly halfway down the path to take in her surroundings. The sun was beginning to set, and its rays reflected off the still waters of the lake, making the surface look like liquid gold. It was hauntingly beautiful. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a bit chilled now that she'd moved away from the comfort of the warming charms.
She turned her face away from the sun, looking back at the manor. Malfoy Manor was breathtaking. This was the most time she'd ever spent here, and she hated that it was under these circumstances. Even in late winter, the gardens contained a surprising amount of colour, and she couldn't wait to see it all in full bloom in the spring and summer. Someday soon, she would be able to come here with Lucius, under happier circumstances, and he would give her a tour of this grand estate.
A figure approached in the twilight, and Hermione's heart swelled, thinking it was Lucius.
"What are you doing out here?"
She felt as if her chest deflated at the realisation that it was Draco.
"Watching the sunset. It's beautiful here."
He grunted noncommittally.
"No, why are you still here? There's no reason for you to be here. Go back to wherever my father keeps you stashed."
She drew in a deep breath and reminded herself that she could and would be the bigger, better person here, that Draco was grieving the loss of his mother.
"I'd prefer not to argue. This has been an incredibly rough week for everyone," she said gently.
"What would you know of it?" he spat.
"I've done nothing but attend funerals this week. We've both seen more people die recently than anyone should see in a lifetime. My best friend is in the hospital, with an injury no one knows how to fix, and he's not getting better. My other best friend is missing."
"It should be you. It should be you, lifeless, sealed in a casket," he said in a quiet but angry voice. "My mother is dead because of you and Potter!"
Hermione heaved a sigh and tried to let his words bounce off of her.
"You know what? Maybe you're right," she said, throwing up her arms. "Maybe it should have been me who died in the battle. I came close plenty of times that night. You were there - you saw how chaotic it was. Even the smallest, seemingly insignificant decision about going up or down a flight of stairs could have made the difference between whether a person lived or died that night."
"We were stuck there because of YOU."
"What are you talking about?"
"YOU refused to leave. Father told you, repeatedly, to use your portkey and leave, but you refused. And he wasn't going to leave without you."
She knew that Lucius had chosen to stay with her, but she hadn't realised that Draco knew that.
"He left my mother and ran off to find you. Because you'd gotten yourself in trouble! If he'd stayed with my mother, he could have gotten her out."
Hermione felt as if he'd slapped her.
"Look, I realise that you're grieving, but I am NOT responsible for Voldemort's actions that night, nor am I responsible for anything your mum did or didn't do! SHE chose to tell Voldemort that Harry was dead in the forest. We all had portkeys, and I can't imagine Lucius not making sure she had one as well, which means she could have chosen to leave but didn't. I understand that she wouldn't have left without you, but once she found you, you BOTH chose to stay there, in the midst of a battle."
"You think I'd just leave my father? Not knowing if he was alive or dead?" Draco spat back.
"Your father told you to go."
"Yes, and he told you to leave too, but you didn't. If you'd left when he told you to, we all could have port-keyed to safety. This is your fault! You should be the one dead!"
Memories of the battle swirled in her mind, of running through the castle with Lucius, desperately trying to hold a magical shield around them, throwing curses back at those who attacked them.
"Had your father been alone, on the way back to the courtyard to you, he could have easily been killed," she said quietly. "He was attacked from behind, he was injured, and I was able to repair the damage. So no, Draco, you can't assume everything would have been fine if I'd left the battle after your aunt tortured me."
She shook her head in frustration before continuing. "You can play 'what if' for the rest of your life if you want, but you can't assume a better outcome, and you can't change what happened. We all had our reasons for staying at Hogwarts as long as we did. I know you don't believe me, but I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. The only person I wanted to see dead that night was Voldemort."
"It certainly was convenient for you, wasn't it? My mother just happened to die, when there was no other way out of their marriage bond."
His insinuation bothered her tremendously, as if he thought she'd somehow willed Narcissa's death. Was it convenient that Lucius was now free? Of course, though she wouldn't have wished for Draco to lose his mother.
"I knew how permanent their marriage bond was," she said, tired of arguing in circles with him. "I knew, and I chose to be with him anyway. I knew that meant we'd probably never be able to be together in any sort of public way, but none of that mattered to me because I love him that much. I was - and always have been - willing to have him in my life on whatever terms he can provide."
Draco did not seem to know how to respond to that, turning his gaze from her to look toward the mausoleum.
"Look, it's getting late, and I don't want to stay out here arguing with you. Your mother did an amazing thing for Harry, and I won't ever forget it," she said gently.
He refused to look at her, but she took his silence as a good thing.
"I'm incredibly sorry for your loss," she said as she walked past him back toward the gardens.
She was surprised to realise when she turned the corner on the stone path that Lucius was standing there, wand in hand. He caught her with a soft laugh before she could collide with him, and then turned, walking with her back to the house.
"I heard what you said to Draco just then," he said as he walked beside her, a respectable distance apart.
"You did?" she glanced up at him in the dim light.
"I did. I had my wand ready in case I needed to intervene. You handled that beautifully, pet."
"I'm sorry you had to hear that."
"She did have a portkey."
Hermione caught his eye, and Lucius nodded in the general direction of the mausoleum.
"Narcissa, that is. She had a portkey on her at the battle. There was no love lost between us, but I had a responsibility to her and would not have left her unprotected. And you are correct - she chose to stay after she'd found Draco. And I dare say, she understood the risks she was taking. The moment Potter was revealed to be alive, she had to know that the Dark Lord would seek vengeance. Hell, it's possible her own sister would have killed her for such a betrayal."
Hermione shuddered at the mention of Bellatrix.
"Did you tell Narcissa to leave?" she asked Lucius.
"Of course I did. Once she confessed to me that she'd lied to the Dark Lord, I told her to go. If he defeated Potter, I knew I would have to send her into hiding or watch alongside Draco as she was tortured and killed. She refused to leave until she'd found Draco and ensured that he was safe."
"Is it…" she hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to ask her question.
"Is it what?"
"Is it true that everyone was stuck there because of me?"
Lucius sighed. "Please do not listen to the angry words of a grieving young man. We all made choices that night, and some of them had far-reaching consequences. I appreciate my son's loyalty, but I never wanted him to stay there. I wanted him safe and away from the fighting. Nor do I want him to place guilt upon his own shoulders because he did not leave straight away. The only person responsible for Narcissa's death is the Dark Lord, and he is dead and gone."
His words had a finality to them, and she let the subject drop as they returned to the gardens. The rest of the mourners had departed by then, and Hermione allowed herself a moment to enjoy being there alone with Lucius.
"Your home is beautiful," she said softly. "I'd love to see the gardens in full bloom. It must be so lovely."
"And you shall."
"Are you… are you alright?" Hermione asked. Regardless of the things he'd told her previously about his feelings toward his wife and their arranged marriage, Narcissa had been his wife for many years, and now she was gone.
Lucius looked around the gardens and at the manor.
"I suppose I am. It feels rather strange, being unmarried. I can't say that I expected to be in this position. I wish that Draco had not lost his mother, of course, for his sake. No parent wants to see their child hurt."
He glanced again in the direction of the path they'd just walked, presumably looking to see if Draco was behind him.
"I was unhappy in my marriage, but I did not wish for her death."
"No, of course you didn't!" she said quickly.
"There is a part of me that is relieved to be unburdened from a marriage I did not choose, regardless of how much I love my son," he admitted. "But it is difficult to even take the time to ponder such things when our world is in such disarray."
He offered her a sad smile, and they started walking again, through the gardens and toward the house.
"The Ministry was in a terrible state when I met with Kingsley."
"Yes, apparently there was a skirmish after the battle at Hogwarts, when members of the Light took over the Ministry. My understanding is that there was little resistance, as most of the Death Eaters had been called to Hogwarts," he said. "Although I suspect there are concerns about some of the Dark Lord's supporters quietly holding onto positions at the Ministry. It will take time to repair the physical damage there and elsewhere, and even longer to capture and try those who would seek to destabilise Shacklebolt's government or to harm you for your role in defeating the Dark Lord."
"It's going to be like this for a long time, isn't it?"
"Like this?"
"Chaotic. Uncertain. Dangerous."
"Yes, pet, I believe so."