Seventeen
Sagittarius

The ride on Kaida is exhilarating.

With Draco's arms wrapped around her, Hermione takes in the world below. Her apprehension regarding their destination is forgotten for a short while. Blissful though it may be, the ride and her brief reprieve from her nerves end when they land.

Draco helps her down in a moment of surreality.

It is the same meadow where it all began.

Blankets of green grass. Rising mist. Flowers in full bloom.

The sunrise warms her back.

Home is still home, even though she is returning as a different woman.

"Hunt but do not go far." Kaida huffs in annoyance at Draco's order. He rolls his eyes. "I will call for you when we are ready."

The dragon looks at Hermione, who comes closer, placing a hand on her jaw. "There is a nearby lake that has your favourites. Be safe."

Kaida takes to the skies, the beat of her wings sending Hermione's gown askance. She and Draco watch her roar before she disappears behind the tall trees.

He chuckles suddenly; a curious sight.

"What is it?" Hermione asks.

"She told me not to be a poncy git."

Hermione laughs during the short walk to the Potter estate, her arm looped through his. Both tired and alert, she is relaxed from the ride and last night's deep sleep following Draco's exploration.

If he notices her nerves, he says nothing.

Father greets them upon their arrival. Mother stands at his side, smiling.

There is no formality in her tight hug. Just as Hermione has done all her life, it is easy to hold on like no time has passed, like everything is as it was.

"Your Majesty." Father lowers his head. "Welcome to our home."

"Thank you for your hospitality." It is stilted, as if Draco is remembering manners he seldomly needs.

He is stiff on the tour, quiet and observant, respectful in the way he keeps his hands clasped behind his back. Touching nothing, he only asks the occasional question that Father answers. She catches whispers of what feel like his nerves, confirmed by the way he balls his hands into fists for a second before releasing.

For the first time, she consciously projects a thought.

Relax.

A startled glance is all the confirmation she needs; the quick nod is a bonus.

The tour continues, and bit by bit, Draco unfurls. The way he and her father begin to flow between formal and informal speech shows a loosening of the reins he puts on himself, but he never completely lets his guard down.

Father's leg does not appear to bother him today. He moves faster, barely using his cane, even after Mother warns of overexertion and scowls when she is ignored. Hermione walks at her side. They linger behind the men, their arms linked as Father points out the artwork they have collected over the years, sculptures and painted portraits that move and sway and wave excitedly at Hermione.

Mother sneaks curious glances the entire time. By the time they return outdoors for a tour of the orchards and the thriving fields sprinkled with worker elves, she begins to stare boldly. Hermione does not know what she seeks to find.

They fall farther behind when Mother stops and calls for Dobby, requesting him to clean and prepare Hermione's quiver and bow. It feels intentional: a theory proven correct when Mother stops, turns, and touches her face with her free hand.

Hermione leans into her.

"You look much recovered, and dare I say at ease." Mother appears relieved. "Better than before."

"I am." Hermione glances at her father and husband. They make a strange pair. Draco wears riding breeches and a tunic, his wand and dagger holstered on his belt, while her father dresses formally. "We are finding common ground."

"I am glad to hear it." She smiles. "You were quite miserable. It was heart-breaking."

"My attack was eye-opening in more than one way." Hermione resumes walking. "You and Father carry guilt, I know, but do not be troubled. I know how much you tried to prepare us."

"I wish we could have done more." Mother's green eyes turn sad. A breeze catches her red hair and blows tendrils in her face. "We went against the oath more than once and told you—"

"I remember. Let us not return to a past we cannot change." Hermione clasps her hand on top of her mother's. "Happy Birthday, Mother."

The sentiment brightens her spirits. "I am happy you are here, even if only for the day."

"It is wonderful to be home."

Dobby returns with her quiver and bow, and she accepts them with a gracious nod before the elf disappears again.

Mother points at an apple tree. "Indulge me today, for old time's sake."

Hermione grins, pulling an arrow from the quiver and takes aim. As she draws the bowstring taut, from the corner of her eye, she sees Father and Draco stop. They turn to watch, the latter with heated curiosity.

Her attention is fixed on a plump, green apple hanging high in the tree.

It has been a while. She relaxes with an exhale, adjusts her aim, and lets the arrow loose.

It flies free and hits its target: the dangling stem of the fruit.

Mother cheers as her father stops its freefall with a spell. The arrow travels on, soaring into the sky until the magic activates and it changes course, circling back towards them. Hermione catches it and returns it to the quiver.

Draco plucks the fruit from where it hovers, his thumb brushing the smooth skin. He looks impressed as he offers the prize to Hermione. "I am not skilled with a bow. Perhaps you can teach me."

Hermione lifts her eyes to his. "Name the hour, Sire, and I will."

The forming smirk dies when he notices her mother watching them.

"Still have your impeccable aim, I see," Father says, breaking the tension. He looks proud, and Hermione cannot help but feel the warmth of his presence.

"Mother was my second teacher." Hermione gives him a fond look. "You, Father, were my favourite."

"I am the one who let you get away with not practising."

"And let her brew Polyjuice so she could enter into a contest, which turned her into a cat," Mother reminisces.

"That was one time," Father argues. "How was I supposed to know I pulled cat hair from Lord Thomas' son's cloak?"

The defence earns him the same dagger-sharp glare he received when Mother found her with pointed ears and whiskers. Her parents squabble about all the dangerous things Father allowed her and Harry to do as children. Hermione laughs with them, providing context when needed, but Draco remains quiet, listening with a strange, wistful look.

Hermione's smile fades when she realises why. Her childhood was filled with far more danger than typical—she, Harry, and Ron nearly did not make it to maturity.

But their younger years were also filled with love and fun.

This was far from his experience.

"Oh! You should surprise your students," Mother suggests when she stops arguing with Father long enough to remember their audience. "Seeing you would bring them much joy. Things have been tense since we started increasing the wards and security."

"I do not know if…" Hermione trails off.

"If what?" Draco prods.

"I am certain you will not want to visit orphans or—"

"Do not assume."


During their walk to town after breakfast at the estate, Hermione catches Draco sneaking glances at her. He has not seen her dressed as relaxed as she is now: in breeches and a tunic with her hair braided back.

They nearly match.

Hermione feels more like herself than she has during her months at the palace. Once Harry and Ginny arrive, everything will be complete. It will be a taste of her old world with a piece of her new life entwined.

For the third time, she catches Draco's eye. "I am aware my attire is not proper, but you do not have to stare. My students are not used to me dressing according to my station."

"I have never seen a woman in breeches." Draco does not avert his eyes, merely looks down at her boots then at her face. There is a familiar heat in his eyes that both warms and warns her. "And yet it is not only your unconventional attire that draws my attention."

"What is it then?"

A rare smirk appears. "My answer is not fit for public consumption."

Hermione softens, her lips curving into a smile. "I suppose it is just as well that there are no others around to overhear me say that I enjoyed last night. What you did was…"

Indescribable, once they accustomed themselves to the intimate act.

His enjoyment increased alongside hers.

As did his boldness.

A blush warms her cheeks. "I would not be opposed to repeating the occasion, but it is my turn to return the favour."

"Is that so?" His features twist in interest. "You said that we are not to be transactional."

"We are not. It will be for the same reasons you chose to last night."

"To shut my mind up?"

Hermione huffs with an eye roll, unable to stop smiling. "There are other avenues you could have taken, but you chose…"

To finger and lick her cunt until she was sensitive and squirming, breathless with her back arched and her legs spread wide.

"You are already aware." She grows warm beneath her collar. "You need no explanation."

"I do not."

"Just as I do not need to explain my reasons for wanting to taste you."

Draco stumbles in uncharacteristic clumsiness. "You—you should not speak so casually."

"But it is true and I am such a poor liar."

Heat simmers in his eyes. "Then I am ready for this day to conclude."

As she laughs, Hermione thinks about the day ahead. She worries that when he sees the orphanage, Draco will look for a reason to cut the visit even shorter.

When they arrive, every student drops the lesson they are in with Lady Susan to flock around her in droves. They do not even notice the king's presence, and Hermione is surprised by his reaction.

Draco remains silent.

He watches.

The orphans hug her. The smaller ones chatter, a few cry, and the older ones are thrilled.

She is not Queen Hermione here. She is still their teacher, despite a long absence.

"Are you back?" Angelus and Cassia ask as one.

"No."

Their disappointment is visceral.

It breaks her heart. "It is my mother's birthday. While I cannot stay for as long as I would like, I am here now with the king."

This is when they notice him.

Draco's reputation precedes him and he is not exactly warm. Initially terrified when he looks at them, they cower when he moves. Hermione gathers everyone closer and promises that they are safe, reminding them of their manners. She instructs them to bow before the king they have heard so many stories about.

His reaction is unexpected.

With a curt nod, his eyes skim the row. "Rise. Pretend I am not your king."

They do so collectively, staring at him in childish awe. Hermione calls for their attention, smiling at Lady Susan, who makes her way through the throngs of pupils and hugs her close.

"Where is Ron?"

"Home with the children and his mother. I made my excuses and came here instead."

The Viscountess will prattle on forever if allowed and Ron can never say no to his mother.

"Do you mind if I give them a lesson while I am here?"

"Not at all. We need to finish Arithmetic. The next lesson is sparring." Susan is an exceptional fighter and a patient teacher. That she serves as one of the replacements for Hermione is good for the children. "I will tend to the babies."

"Minerva has accepted more children?"

"Twin babies were delivered here last night after their mother died in childbirth," she says with a sad shake of her head. "I will relieve Minerva while you are here."

Hermione instructs everyone to sit in a circle around the large room and waits for them to settle. She loses sight of Draco, but spots him speaking to Minerva, unable to hear what he is saying while she gestures here and there.

Hermione's focus is pulled back to the group. They do not want to learn Arithmetic or Transfiguration. They want to hear stories of Court, of her life as Queen.

"It is challenging but exciting, very different from life here." Given the difficult transition, talking about her new life is easier than she expected. "I am always learning."

"What did you say to the king when you first met him?" Selene asks, looking a bit starry-eyed.

"I…" Hermione catches Draco listening intently now. "I answered three questions."

Then she continues Queen Narcissa's legacy by asking them the questions that were once asked to her.

They prod, but Hermione does not divulge her answers.

Instead, she gives each child her focus, checking in and listening to them. But time runs short. She is so swept up, she does not notice Draco again until she scans the room and sees him staring at a group of boys. They are no longer afraid, forming a semi-circle around him, armed with wooden swords. He fixes their stances and whistles as they pair up and begin to spar under his watchful eye.

"Good, but follow through," Draco tells one child. "Do not hesitate at the end. Your enemy will not."

The boy stands straighter. "Yes, Sire—I mean, sir."

"Again."

They raise their wooden swords.

Festus approaches Draco to show off his rat familiar. Draco kneels and speaks to the boy, who closes his eyes on command, then opens them suddenly, wide with wonder as he looks at his familiar. Draco nods and the boy runs off to a group who surround him, awaiting the story of what he learned from the king. To the group surrounding Festus, she whistles and sends them to help the cooks prepare supper.

Draco nearly jolts when he turns and finds little Emilia peering up at him with an enamoured grin. Suppressing her laughter, Hermione rescues him, fixing Emilia's braid before sending her off to play. They walk to the fence, watching the pairs spar.

Hermione takes in the sight. "I expected you to sit in the shadows until it was time to leave."

"Children are often more tolerable than adults."

"Says the man who does not wish to sire one of his own."

"Yet." Draco glances at her, smirking at her surprised expression. "I am not the best husband. I doubt—"

"You steadily improve in my regard. I do not expect perfection, and neither should you."

"What do you expect?"

Hermione does not need long to think of her answer. "Honesty. Loyalty. Companionship. You no longer disagree with me so loudly."

"You wanted me to listen so I have. It is not complex. Besides, I have recently discovered that I prefer distracting you to fighting."

She laughs. "I agree that it is far more favourable than discourse, but do not tread delicately around me. I am not always right. Nor am I fragile."

He hums. "I am aware."

"Above not putting a blade in your chest, what do you expect of me? We have found common ground, but you must want more. You are allowed to alter your desires, as am I."

Draco takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "For now, I am content."

She believes him.

Hermione shifts closer, their sides pressing as she rests her head on Draco's shoulder. His arm curls around her; she is unsettled by the casual intimacy.

Or are the sparks of nerves she feels coming from him?

"The children seem happy here," Draco says after a short silence. They watch two of the smaller children team together to spar an older child. "It is surprisingly functional, despite overcrowding."

"Most orphanages are overrun, thanks to war and illness, but not all have the same generosity as my parents have bestowed on this one."

"The boy with the familiar needs training. I showed him how to begin to put distance between himself and his familiar without causing strain. There are others who would make fine soldiers in the future."

"Is that all they are to you?" she asks.

"They serve a purpose, just like you and I. We are all subjects of the crown. Children will grow into adults, and society needs people to function and occupy certain roles."

"Which involves education. Giving a wand to a soldier who cannot read or write and does not know basic spells is dangerous. Not just to them, but to their fellow soldiers, to the knights, and to you. Most orphans cannot read to even gain admission so your idea does not work."

"It will if they are given a proper education."

"The funds—"

"There is enough excess in the treasuries to fund orphanages all over the kingdom. Or maybe you can build a boarding school for the orphans to attend and learn together."

"Ideally, that would be beneficial, but people are corrupt. They would squander the Galleons and leave the children destitute. Honest people are not as common as one might think."

"With force, they would comply."

Violence is the standard answer with Draco.

Hermione disagrees with his brute force approach. "The deserters should be a strong indicator that fear is not always a proper motivator."

"I did not have a problem with soldiers vanishing until I returned home. There are other factors at work. Your argument is partially invalid. What would be your solution to human greed?"

"There is no solution to that or selfishness. Perhaps appointing someone trusted to oversee and encouraging witnesses of wrong-doing a free place to speak their truth without threat of death is an option, but my ideas are fruitless if you do not intend to—"

"You know I do not ask questions if I do not want answers."

Hermione nods. "Of course."

"I noticed there are things missing." He points at the broomstand that has seen better days.

"You mean luxuries."

"Yes."

"They are not missing." Hermione knows this place is not perfect, but it is comfortable; the magic is as warm and inviting as Minerva is strict and caring. "Over the years, as things have broken, they have not been replaced. Funds are better diverted in other areas."

Draco clearly does not agree.

"The world beyond these walls does not teem with luxuries, so it is best they do not grow accustomed to such things. It would be cruel to teach them to depend on what they will lose access to when they leave. Luxuries are just that—luxuries. Not necessities, and certainly not an expectation we wish to instil. In our positions, we do not want for luxuries. They are freely provided as standard measure. Raised in royalty, and now as a king, it is natural you would not understand the difference. As time passes, I lose sight of the differentiation as well."

"I understand more than you assume."

She takes an unconscious step towards Draco, a teasing smirk on her face. "Name one luxury you wish for."

"Peace."


Mother's birthday celebration officially begins with Harry and Ginny's arrival.

The meal is informal, a mesh of her mother's favourites; palace food is decadent in comparison. Hermione's exchanges with those at Court are not as natural either. She speaks freely tonight. It is a nice break from the machinations.

She enjoys herself. Draco does as well.

He talks to everyone and even laughs at Harry's jokes. Her brother is not as shocked as the rest, as if this is normal of his time with the king—at least in private.

But more than once, Hermione stares.

Draco eats a little of everything, far more than usual. Hermione wonders if his appetite is due to his lack of worry here where no one will harm him or poison his food.

Here, he is allowed to let down his guard.

And he does.

Following dessert, they talk, reminiscing on the few non-violent childhood stories. Hermione wears a permanent flush from laughing, but her eyes keep falling on Draco.

What were hints before turn into blatant signs of his state of being. While she and Father shrink and pack vials of herbs for her brewing room in the castle, he flies on brooms with Harry and Ginny. Hermione watches from the window.

Father calls for her attention. "What else do you need?"

Mother joins them soon after, and Father leaves to follow Draco, Harry, and Ginny outdoors. She uses their time alone to give Hermione a muslin wrap stuffed with preserved jamu.

"Mother," Hermione gasps.

"I can retrieve more. Send Winky, tell her to be discreet." Mother rests her hands on Hermione's shoulders, searching her eyes. "You are Queen, but you should have the option to wait to bear a child until you are ready. It is your body. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I advocate for myself, Mother. Do not fret. Snape gave me a potion for this month."

"Good." A flash of appreciation for her old friend passes. "It is most excellent that you take this into consideration."

"Draco requested it be made for me."

Mother does not disguise her shock. "That is most unexpected, though I should not be surprised. He sacrificed much to save you, and punished himself for the actions that nearly drove you to your grave. I have never seen a more regretful man."

"He is atoning and learning from his errors. I am, as well, by speaking instead of suppressing."

"I am proud of you." She smiles and they both pause when they hear something hit the outside wall. Rushing to the window, they find Ginny flying back to the others with a ball in hand. Mother watches the sight. "Tonight, the king seems… dare I say, serene?"

"He is most certainly on his best behaviour. I believe he likes the peace he finds away from the palace."

They go back to what they are doing. Minutes pass in companionable silence; Hermione has missed this.

Mother makes her recite the steps to preparing the jamu plant, then carefully places folded muslin stuffed with herbs in the pocket of her gown.

She freezes upon seeing Draco looming in the doorway, sweat on his brow.

He nods to her mother. "Excuse us, Your Grace."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I will finish here."

Hermione follows Draco to the veranda. The sun is setting over the land, and the breeze saps the warmth from the day. Potter estate is as beautiful as always. She expects to find her father nearby, or perhaps Harry and Ginny, but the three are walking towards the orchards.

"They are going to show Potter the boundary of the wards."

"You did not go with them?"

"No. I wanted a moment alone." He holds out his hand. "Humour me."

As they move closer to a small platform off the veranda, she sees two swords hovering with their tips facing down.

"We missed our session this morning." Draco picks up the larger of the two swords, wielding it with an expert flourish. "Spar with me, but keep your mind locked."

Hermione takes the remaining, testing the weight in her hand. It is not one she has ever used when sparring with her mother, but it feels right: not too heavy or too light. "This is an Occlumency lesson?"

His smile grows with a wry tilt to his lips. "Yes. Thus far they have only been small lessons by the lake, but I want to test what you have learned. Only if you are up to the challenge."

"Always."

She closes her eyes and does just as she has practised, sealing each doorway of thought until none remain. When she is ready, she opens her eyes again, taking in the man standing opposite of her.

Their gazes lock.

Hermione sinks into her ready stance. Draco smirks.

She takes the offence first, just to test his skill. He blocks her with ease. Draco holds back, which irritates Hermione into launching a rapid series of moves that ends with a low jab. He does not expect it and is nearly unable to stop it.

The clank of metal on metal is deafening.

"You improve daily," he tells her, his breathing slightly laboured. "But your left remains weaker than your right."

"Then help me improve."

"I am."

Fighting is a dance: a fluid ebb and flow.

They circle and study the other, moving in tandem. Swords crossing, she feels his presence brush against her thoughts—more at first, then less when the duel stops feeling like he is humouring her.

It begins to feel like he is actually challenging her with a desire to defeat her.

The first time he attacks, Hermione blocks with as much effort as aggression. She is light and swift, but her endurance has not returned. Draco is taller with a longer reach, but he does not tire.

His retreat is both strategic and relentless.

Hermione's guard never falters.

"Your mind remains sealed." Draco points his sword at her. It reminds her of their first meeting. "Have you had enough?"

And now—like before—she does not back down. "Not even close."

"Good."

Time loses all meaning. They spar until sweat runs down her face. She enjoys it most when his efforts against her become visible, evident in his increasing aggression. He is easier to fight when his impeccable form slips.

She spins, mind blanking with focus as their swords cross.

Hermione's sword glows and burns.

Shock makes her nearly drop it.

The spark burns out.

"Was that—" she asks breathlessly.

"Perfect. You are channelling your magic," Draco replies. "Soon you will be able to cut through anything with a single stroke, no matter what it is or how strong you feel."

"My mother tried to teach me this skill for years."

"Perhaps the block on your mind made it difficult for you to master."

Now that it is gone…

Still dazed, Hermione tries to shake it off. "Another round?"

"If you so please."

She does.

The fight begins anew, but no matter how hard Hermione tries, her sword does not glow again. She does not fret. It will happen again. She can feel it.

"The key is not to try." Draco's sword burns a cold blue like Kaida's fire. "It must be natural. Instinct."

"Who taught you how to swordfight?" Hermione asks as they circle each other once more. Her hands are raw from the grip but she barely notices, too focused on her opponent.

"My father. My first real challenge was your brother. It took hours for Potter to eventually give in."

"My mother taught him and me." She jabs at his belly. Draco slides to the side, but then she has to block his attack. Ducks, spins, comes back harder. "We get our determination from her."

"Admirable." He catches her sword in a nasty clang of metal. It sounds like friction feels. He steps closer while their swords are still crossed. "My mother taught me to play to my strengths."

All of a sudden she feels a pulse. A force that rips the sword from her grip and sends her stumbling backwards.

Magic.

"Cheater!"

"You never said no magic." Draco's smirk is made more devilish by his scar. He tosses her sword aside and approaches with his at his side. He points it at her, tilting his head. "Do you yield?"

"No." Hermione makes a fist with a spell in mind.

Draco hisses and drops his sword. "You and your brother love that spell."

"A specialty." She advances, pulling her dagger from her gown with a flourish, and brings the blade to his neck. "Do you yield?"

Draco's eyes burn.

She wants to look away. But she cannot.

They are both breathing heavily, sweating from exertion and exhilaration.

Hermione loves to win, but this is better.

That is until a quick glance gives her a view of the dagger she never sees him pull from his belt.

"How about—" The blade slides down the side of her gown. She feels the pressure of the metal but it does not cut. "We yield to each other."

"A tie," Hermione agrees with a low hum, still catching her breath.

They drop their daggers.

Nothing stands between them.

Draco's eyes drop to her mouth. Hermione feels his steady presence on her mind, just there, pushing but not entering. Thus far, she has kept him out, but now she wants to let him in.

It is hard to say who moves first; they meet in the middle, trading fevered kisses and wrapping their arms around one another as they sink into each other. Draco picks her up, and with the same ease, Hermione's legs wrap around him. Slipping her tongue into his mouth, she fists his hair. Their kisses grow rushed, heated, desperate.

Draco's steps are blind but he backs her into the wall, lips travelling down her neck, hands pulling at the bodice of her maroon gown.

"I know a better place," Hermione murmurs against his lips. "More private. I will show you. It is just over—"

A movement from the corner of his eye draws Draco's attention.

Then hers.

Harry and Ginny run towards them in a full sprint. There is no mistaking the terror on their faces.

Draco helps her down, and they meet the panting pair at the bottom of the veranda stairs.

They ask their questions at the same time.

"What is it?"

"Where is Father?"

"Inferi, at the edge of the estate wards." Harry points with his wand. "We got separated from him!"

They spring into action.

Hermione grabs both swords, handing one to Ginny. "Let's go."


Urgency keeps their footsteps silent as they run through the forest.

Hermione expects the worst when they stumble into the fresh ruins of a battlefield. It is where Harry and Ginny last saw Father. Tall, lush trees block their view of the sky. They are still, as if poised for something.

A silence like death drapes over everything.

Nature is suffocating under the thick smoke billowing from dozens of burning mounds speckling the forest floor.

The flames grow larger but do not spread.

Instead, they twist into shapes.

Runes.

A message.

What caused this will be back.

A burning glove slowly stretches from one, reaching for Draco's leg until Ginny kicks it away.

Father emerges from behind a tree, wand drawn, spell on the tip of his tongue, until he sees it is them and lowers it, visibly relieved.

As are they to find him unharmed.

Father whistles, and three cloaked figures step out of the flaming shadows on command.

Draco and Harry raise their wands.

Father holds up his hands. "They are not the enemy."

"Then who are they?" Draco asks.

"Unspeakables," Father replies by way of explanation, but it is enough for the tense scene to slowly unfurl. Hermione's grip on her sword does not loosen; everyone notices it. "They are friends. Protectors."

"I know who they are." She keeps a watchful eye on the Unspeakable that stands closest to him. They are the group that cut out their own tongues to keep the Potter's true identities a secret. "But that does not explain why they are here."

"They appeared with fiery arrows when my leg gave out while I was running from the Inferi. I fell and they came to my aid."

Hermione looks at the flames with new eyes. "They are all Inferi?"

"Yes."

The voice does not belong to her father. A different man steps out of a disillusionment near one of the burning mounds. He is tall and lean with grey streaks through his curly brown hair, and wears the same uniform as the silent soldiers. He is different yet familiar. Still, Hermione cannot place him, distracted by what is behind him.

A circle of Unspeakables bearing torches approach, corralling a surviving Inferus.

As one, they step back, drop their torches, and stretch their arms. Fire burns a perfect circle around the Inferus as more Unspeakables descend from the trees with a single, silent leap, hands moving rapidly as they speak with signals and gestures Hermione does not understand. Draco and Ginny do not either, given the look of confusion both wear. Only her father knows the language because he responds and interprets.

"They canvassed the area and found this one approaching, but it is the last." Father then turns to the man, his smile growing familiar and friendly. "I did not know you were around, Theseus."

"When we found out you were warding the duchy, we decided to keep a team in the forests just off the estate, watching over you."

"I appreciate it."

"Your Majesties." The stranger bows low, too formal given their current location. "I am Theseus Scamander."

Hermione jolts. "Newt's brother?"

When he smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkle. "Only when he answers my letters."

"You are an Unspeakable who speaks?" Ginny sounds mystified.

"Officially, I am a retired Longbottom Kingdom knight, but I have been working with the Unspeakables to keep the Potters safe. We got word that an Inferi army was being created from dead soldiers in the Malfoy Kingdom's campaign and—"

"We know they are coming," Harry interjects. "But we do not know how quickly."

"How many?" Draco asks.

"Possibly a few hundred," Theseus says. "It is hard to tell. Dumbledore tasked me and the Unspeakables with determining if the Inferi are being created by someone loyal to Voldemort."

"And if not?" Harry wonders. "Will he leave us to fight an army of Inferi without aid?"

The pause is damning.

Draco scoffs. "I am not surprised."

Even Father and Harry look disappointed.

"I do not intend to leave you alone in this fight. I do not agree with his treatment of you—either of you." He gives both Harry and Draco meaningful glances. "I will continue to search the area and destroy any Inferi I see, but we need to figure out who they are after."

"How do we do that?" Ginny's hand tightens around her sword.

Draco says nothing, only approaches the circle. Between her father and brother, Hermione lingers at a far enough distance to remain out of harm's way. The Unspeakables and Theseus fall back. It is a terrifying mass of animated bones and grey skin pulled tight. Unlike the one she fought as a child, this one wears armour. Its eyes are white and cloudy, hair stringy and yellow, dead long enough for rot to progress to desiccation. Its head moves back and forth, searching.

The flames rise when it moves, removing the chilling sight from her vision.

"Are you injured?" Hermione asks her father while Draco circles the flames.

"No, but you and Ginny should return to the estate."

"Actually," Draco says, "she needs to stay. We all do."

"The king is right. Inferi are puppets controlled by masters," Theseus explains. "If they did not attack the Duke when he fell, and this one does not lunge at him now…" He looks at Hermione. "Step closer. You too, Harry."

They do as they are told. All three stand at an equal distance around the burning circle.

Theseus lowers the flames.

The Inferus waits one second before launching at Hermione.

Draco's blasting spell catches it in the chest, throwing it out of the circle and into a nearby tree. It rises and runs towards them at an impossible speed, its high-pitched cry ringing in her ears. Harry grabs her hand.

Draco vaults over a burning mound, putting himself in its path. "Incendio."

Fire shoots from the tip of Draco's wand, catching the Inferus in the chest. Its screams as the flames grow and spread. It is painful to hear. The Inferus falls to its knees, still clawing its way towards Draco as it burns, slowly falling silent.

When it stops, Draco proceeds to blast it into pieces.

Theseus whistles low. "That is one way to be certain it can never be brought back."

All eyes fall on Hermione.

"Are you hurt?" Father asks.

"There was one reaching for Draco. And that one was ordered to come for you, as well." Ginny sounds terrified. "That is how it works, right?"

She is correct.

Hearing the truth is more shocking than knowing it silently.

One signal and the Unspeakables begin to spread out, digging holes and covering the burning mounds with dirt to suppress the fire.

Theseus folds his arms. "You know what this means, Sire."

Draco's expression is murderous. "It is not Voldemort."

"I have never seen a necromancer powerful enough to control so many Inferi at a distance."

The way Draco shuts his eyes indicates he is calling for Kaida. When he opens them, they are calculating and cold. "We will return to the palace as if this has not happened. Potter, call for the rest of the knights with your stag and make certain the bones incinerate completely."

"Sire." Theseus steps forward. "Allow us to take care of this and we will keep this a secret, as we have all others."

Draco begins to argue, but Father steps in, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You may be king, you may have been forced to do much alone, but we are family. This is a problem you do not have to combat on your own."

Several uncertain moments pass.

Hermione feels fluttering coming from Draco; an array of loud yet indistinguishable emotions so disorienting it makes her heart beat too hard.

With reservation, he finally accepts her father's aid. "Thank you."

"Take care of her."

Hermione does not need to hear Draco's response to know that he will.

She turns to Ginny, whose face is etched with worry. "Whose ire could you have possibly gathered?"

A certain conversation comes to mind but she says, "It could be anyone."


A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Ten more to go. Things are about to get fun. Just know that while Draco was watching her shoot the arrow and seeing her in breeches, he was the "and the next thing I knew I was pregnant" meme. And the bonding moment at the end. He needs a parent so bad. *sobs* Also the inferi drawing. Shout out to Jaxx for knocking that out the park.