Moments in Time
Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis
XIV: Witches
or
"Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble."
The temperature around them had decreased quickly and the lingering light was obliterated by the rapidly falling night. The once salmon and purple sky transformed into a vast expanse of jet-black that engulfed the unseeable expanse of the woods. The usual canopy of luminous stars that shone amongst the ocean of blackness was hidden behind a brewing of dark stormy clouds on this moonless night. The night had brought with it, it seemed, a threat of a summer storm.
As they rode over a bridge, the lake below remained still and dark, mirroring the assemblage of the night sky that reminded Hermione of the Black Lake at Hogwarts. Only, her most recent memory of the Black Lake was witnessing a flight of Dementors hovering over it and the blazes of orange and red, reflecting the burning castle that once was a haven for many students.
Hermione's grip on Edmund tightened as new war memories came to the surface; Edmund hardly noticed, however. The Just King was too engrossed in his thoughts about the turmoil that was his country - at least, that was what he would tell Hermione if she asked him what was on his mind at that current moment. Loathe he admit the truth that Peter's last words to him before they had set off, repeated in his mind like a pendulum.
The ride seemed never-ending and the deeper they travelled into the woods, the surer that Hermione felt a gut-sinking feeling that things were going to go bad. The woods always looked different at night. Everything had an eerily unfamiliar slant to it, it was as if the beautiful daytime flowers and stones had gone to bed and sent a slightly more ominous version of themselves to take their places. As they finally descended off the earth and onto a clear paved path, trepidation and dread settled in.
Though Edmund had initially portrayed this town as derelict, description alone could not have prepared Hermione for the town that was built on the outskirts of the Eastern Village. The town, though tiny, was completely dilapidated and showing signs of decay. There could not be more than a dozen houses and, reading the sign, evidence of a previous, well-used, apothecary. Windows were boarded up and some of the doors to the houses were wide open, as though they had been ransacked by scavengers. There was no sign of life anywhere. Instinct told Hermione to use 'Homenum Revelio' to see if there was human presence near them, she couldn't shake off the feeling that they were walking into a trap.
"Aslan," Lucy breathed as she hopped off her horse, unable to believe the sight. "What happened to all the people?" she asked Edmund.
Reepicheep jumped out of the satchel that had been tied to Lucy's horse as he ventured ahead of them, trying to sniff out any evil hidden in the darkness with Dagger not too far behind him.
"That's what I would like to know," Edmund replied gravely.
"It can't have been more than a month since the last patrol through this part of Narnia," Lucy added, disbelievingly.
"Precisely, so it would have been reported. Whatever happened here must have been recent. Very recent. But look at the mould! It can't have been just a month."
Hermione was silent as she absorbed this information; a lot of things seemed to be correlating to the time when she arrived in Narnia. The mysterious death within the castle, the three-headed beast and now an entire town missing? - the list just seemed to be growing. Once was happenstance, twice was coincidence but thrice? ... that could only mean something bad - and going by her past experiences, it was something really bad that was brewing in Narnia.
"Are you sure that you have the correct place?" she couldn't help but ask, hopelessly.
"Yes," Edmund answered, as he pointed to one of the buildings, "it's that building there."
Sure enough, Hermione could just about read the fading lettering on the post in front of the building.
"Then perhaps we should mull over this situation later, but I think we should get into places, don't you? There are no stars nor moon in the sky to be able to predict the time, but I think we are getting dangerously close to the hour that they are supposed to meet. What are we going to do with the horses?" She fell into the role that she was comfortable in, creating plans, bossing people around, being the one in charge.
Momentarily stunned, Edmund and Lucy cast questioning gazes in her direction over her authoritativeness before they silently accepted that she was right. They couldn't stand around in the middle of the village and lose their only advantage.
"We should tie them up over there," Edmund pointed to the dark woods at the opposite end to the one that they arrived; as he shot Hermione another considering look. "You have to cross the bridge to get here, and the only known path that patrols use is the one that is paved."
Trusting Edmund's knowledge, Lucy followed her brother with her horse. Meanwhile, Hermione hung back and decided to investigate the supposed meeting room. Casting a look over her shoulder to eye where Edmund and Lucy were, she drew out her wand and stepped into the threshold. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.
"Lumos."
She concentrated her energy to form a dim light that filtered through the tip of her wand, as not to attract the attention of the royals with something brighter, she walked through the inn. Her nose instantly recoiled at the pungent smell of stale alcohol. Upon closer inspection, she realised that the smell was emitting from the knocked over tankards and half filled glasses around the room. Immediately, her internal alarms were ringing loudly in her ears as adrenaline filled her body. Something was wrong. Having worked at an inn-house, she knew that mead was well loved by those who frequented at such an institution. It was almost as if the people in the town had literally vanished, leaving behind unfinished business.
"Hello, Hermione Granger, I've been expecting you," whispered a croaky voice from behind her.
Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach as she whirled around and screamed.
"ARGH!" Ron screamed as a pale fist punched through the circular window they had been peering out of and grasped at the space where his head had been.
"Diffindo!"
The severed, blood-red painted, pointy fingernails unfurled from their fisted clench and pointed in his direction. Ron felt the bile rise in his throat as he realised that it was blood pooling around him. He dry-heaved as Harry shot a stupefy at the body that now was missing a hand. It was mayhem. And Ron was on the verge of hyperventilating.
"Confringo," Ron blasted, using his left arm as his wand arm was currently twisted into a mutated position. "Harry! Where did they come from?"
Ron ducked as the bookshelf behind his head exploded, as another fist punched through the wall, sending smatterings of wood chips and paper raining through the room.
"I wish I bloody knew!" Harry panted, as he leaned against the upturned dining table that was currently being purposed as a shield.
Another fist punched through the wall and made contact with Ron's head, sending him flying backwards into the destroyed living room. Harry sent another stunner at their assailant before skidding across the room on his knees to Ron.
"Ron! RON! Are you alright? Come on, get up! They've got this place surrounded. Stupefy!" Harry ducked under the sofa, tugging Ron up to a sitting position. "We have to apparate Ron!"
Ron groaned as his head rung like a cymbal.
"Apparate where? And what about Babbity? We can't leave her home like this, what if she comes back from the castle?"
"I think," Harry gasped as another hand shot through the thin walls as though it was made of paper, "on this one instance-"
Ron shot a 'Protego' charm towards the failing door.
"-that we should ditch ... Confringo ... our ... Stupefy Stupefy ... hero complex behind and leave ... Expulso ... before we become liquid dinner or worse!"
"Incarcerous!" Ron cast one last spell as Harry grabbed his arm and apparated.
"Stupefy!"
The spell escaped through her lips reflexively, sending the old woman flying backwards. Not seconds later, Edmund, Lucy, Dagger and Reepicheep rushed into the room, swords drawn and teeth bared, ready for attack. She winced as Edmund shone his flashlight in her direction before he followed her gaze to the ground.
"I thought I told you to stay put!" He barked darkly.
"No, you didn't," she replied immediately, surprisingly Lucy simultaneously voiced the same thought. Hermione shot an insolent look towards Edmund that read, 'see?'.
"What did you do? Poke her to a faint?" Edmund asked, choosing to ignore their team-up against him, as he finally realised the 'weapon' that Hermione held so fiercely in her hand. Hermione had been caught so off guard that she completely forgot to stow her wand away.
"N-no," she stuttered, "I was taken aback so I punched her? - A-And she kind of fell back and hit her head." Hermione squinted and refrained from rolling her eyes as she replayed her weak lie in her head.
"Quite violent, aren't you?" Edmund teased, though still with a bit of grit in his tone.
"That's hardly the issue at hand right now," she replied tersely, folding her arms petulantly.
"Who is she?" Lucy asked, though it was quite a pointless question.
Edmund told her as such, whilst keeping a look of incredulity firmly planted on his face. The three humans looked at each other, unsure of what their next manoeuvre should be.
"Well, I suppose we should wake her up to find out," Edmund said with a long-suffering sigh as he perched down to the floor.
Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that his efforts would be pointless as only the 'Ennervate' incantation would revive a being who was stupefied, but then quickly realised that she couldn't actually tell him that. So, she waited and watched as he patted the cheeks of the woman and, as expected, received no reaction. With a worried glance towards the women who accompanied him, Edmund reached around to her neck and put his fingers there to feel a pulse and let out a sigh of relief.
"By the lion's mane, you've knocked her out cold!" said Edmund.
Hermione bit back her somewhat sarcastic reply about the way magic worked, knowing that the meaning would be lost on her company and settled for a withering glare instead.
"At least she's not dead," Lucy inputted.
"I like her spunk," Reepicheep squeaked with a smile to his King.
"Perhaps a sprinkle of water?" Hermione suggested weakly to her companions.
Lucy immediately sprung into action and walked around the bar stand to the grimy looking tap. She filled a somewhat dirty glass with water. As she crouched beside her brother and lightly sprinkled the water, Hermione quickly (and as silently as she could) cast the reviving spell, keeping her wand movements (hidden under the sleeve of her robe) as minimal as possible. Perhaps it was her age or her complete disorientation, but the woman took some time to come around. Satisfied, Hermione readjusted her wand so that it was, once again, stowed in her makeshift wand holder but she completely missed the sharp, distrusting look that Dagger sent in her direction.
"Hello there," Lucy cooed gently, as though she was speaking to a child.
The old woman observed her company and then whispered, almost reverently, "Your Majesties."
"You know who we are," Edmund said, as he stood back up and stepped back.
Edmund knew that while their titles and names were whispered earnestly through the country. There were still a lot of people who had never met the monarchs as they mostly lived within the walls of their castle; multiple assassination attempts from the rebels had put a damper on their public relations. Life was a lot different to the Golden Age where Peter, Susan, Lucy and Edmund had been able to venture out as much as they pleased.
"You knew who I was," Hermione quickly whispered from Edmund's side.
Edmund quickly snapped to attention and within a blink of an eye, his had his sword drawn again. Knowing the monarchs of a country was one thing, but knowing Hermione? Someone who could be considered just another face in Narnia if Edmund didn't know all that he did about her. Especially since she was now heavily involved in the matters of the Court. Before he had the chance to threaten her, to ask her what she knew, the old woman sprung back up to her feet looking as spry as a child. The Narnians and Hermione gasped in shock as the woman threw up a shield, an invisible, magical forcefield that formed an impenetrable bubble around her, sending the rest of them flying backwards, until they were a more than a good metre away.
"How?" Hermione asked, pulling herself together the fastest, and the least surprised of the lot at the show of magic.
"It's magic," Edmund explained to Hermione, but Hermione paid him little attention.
"I see things," the woman replied, understanding Hermione's real question, as she eyed knowingly at the exact area where Hermione had put her wand. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, was her secret about to be revealed? "I know of things that are to come. There is a terrible evil brewing. I see death. So much death."
"Death?" Hermione whispered, then quickly uttered, "Like S-Sally?"
Edmund grasped Hermione's elbow.
"What about Edward's sister?" he asked, confused by the sudden name-drop.
"Sh-she said the same thing," she replied with fear. Surely not another war, she couldn't go through that again.
"She is another who shares the same gift as I," said the old woman.
"And what gift is that?" Lucy asked carefully as she stepped closer. It was almost as if she wanted to get closer to the woman, to try and penetrate through her shield, but fear wisely held her back.
"The gift of sight."
"You're a seer," Hermione answered.
The old woman nodded.
"What? Like, see the future type?" Edmund asked bewilderedly.
"Not necessarily see the future but see the possible outcomes," Hermione informed and the old woman smiled approvingly. Edmund frowned at her extensive knowledge about magic.
"You were brought here for a reason, Hermione Granger," the woman continued, ignoring their squabbling.
"Yes, Aslan said so - but I still don't understa-"
"There are a lot of things that are set in stone Hermione Granger. Certain points in time where things have to happen a certain way, or else everything falls apart."
This was the reason why Hermione never liked Divinations. Everything was always so cryptic.
"Are you saying that I should not have died?" Hermione asked, taking a stab in the dark.
Edmund and Lucy silently followed the conversation. Perhaps they could finally learn a bit of truth about Hermione's past.
"We all die one day Hermione Granger, but what was the catalyst to your death?"
Hermione paused, her eyes clenched tight as she remembered.
"Harry," Hermione whispered.
The name carried through the silent night like a prayer. Lucy shivered involuntarily.
"Yes, Harry Potter's death was a set event."
"So you're saying that he was supposed to die at Voldemort's hand?"
"No, child, I'm saying that Harry Potter died too young."
"But he was hit by the killing curse, no one can survive that, not twice!"
"Harry Potter always had a talent for getting himself into trouble but he always had an air of destiny about him, don't you think? Unnatural, wasn't it, the way luck was always on his side, on your side? Did you really think that your friendship was happenstance? That the ah- what did you call it?" the woman's gaze fell on Edmund for a brief second, "monster in the bathroom was a silly mistake?" Hermione flinched. "You were always going to be a part of Harry Potter's life, whether you wanted to be or not. Your destiny will always be tied to his."
"But I'm not his soulmate," Hermione argued, she knew that she had never felt anything more for Harry other than friendship.
"I think you will find dear child, that there are far stronger forces in the universe that brings souls together."
Hermione nearly groaned at yet another cryptic message.
"What about Harry? If we are bound together then why is he not here? The horcrux inside of him could only be destroyed by irreparable damage. Harry had to die for Voldemort's defeat."
"The Horcrux was never a part of his soul, while its attempts to merge with Harry Potter's was not non-existent; he managed to keep it separate. And did you too, not die, child?"
"So when he was killed only the Horcrux passed on? But Harry didn't come back, I saw him! I saw Hagrid carrying him!"
"No, Harry Potter did not come back. That was the turning point in many lives. A new future is being written, Hermione Granger. The forces of darkness should never trump the light. Harry Potter's death overthrew the balance and the balance has been unsettled. He made a choice, a terrible choice that has put these events in motion. There are dreadful times ahead and the pain, the suffering, the secrets ... oh you must-" the old woman paused as her attention was quickly drawn away to an unseeing place.
"I have said too much, I mustn't say more, it will upset the new. No, this must be our farewell, Hermione Granger, your Majesties, I must apologise, but this must be, I must be," said the witch unclearly.
"Wait! What were you about to say? Why were you here to meet Peter? What has he got to do with any of this?" Hermione shouted as the woman started to fade.
Then as though she had silently apparated, they were alone in the room once more. Deafening silence filled the room as everyone absorbed her words. Confusion, fear and devastation pulsed through the air.
Then suddenly, Lucy gasped from by her side. Edmund turned extremely pale as the witch reappeared behind Lucy and grabbed her by the arm. Lucy's earsplitting scream of fear echoed through the night as she started to fade with her. There was a flurry of actions as Dagger jumped through the air and sunk his teeth into the witch's arm, Reepicheep charged with his sword drawn, Edmund roared his sister's name before the witch blasted him away and all Hermione could do was stand in shock and scream "NO!".
And then the witch, Lucy and Dagger vanished into thin air.
"Urgh," the two young men grunted as they landed on the hard ground with a thud.
"Merlin's bollocks, I think I've sprained my wrist," Ron groaned.
"Mate," Harry muttered, as he eyed Ron's wrist that was flopping at a very awkward angle, "that is not a sprain."
"Episkey, should do it, shouldn't it?" Ron asked with a whimper of pain, looking as though he was about to faint at the sight of his floppy wrist.
"Hermione was always better at the healing spells," Harry winced as he pulled out his wand.
"Well, try not to mess it up, yeah? It's my wand arm," Ron grunted as he closed his eyes and waited for the pain to come.
"Right," Harry muttered, "err, hold onto something, this is going to ... sting. Episkey!"
Ron bit down on his lip so hard that it started to bleed as his wrist snapped back into place. Simultaneously, a scream echoed through the woods.
"Mother of Merlin, sting? More like taking a bludger to the balls!" Ron complained as he flexed his sore hand to get the blood flowing back around again.
"Never mind your wrist! Did you hear that?" Harry asked as he scanned the area around them.
"Oh, that wasn't me?" Ron joked weakly.
Harry shot Ron an amused glance. Another scream echoed through the woods, again and Ron almost groaned as he recognised the expression on Harry's face.
"C'mon! Let's go!" Harry shouted as he started to run in the direction of the scream.
"I thought we were leaving the hero complex behind?" Ron shouted with agitation, as he followed Harry at a much slower pace. "Harry! Come on, slow down. I'm getting too old for this."
"Too old? What are you thirty?" Harry teased.
"Might as well be, I certainly have the live experiences of one," Ron retorted.
"I've been thinking about that actually. That time, Hermione and I used the time turner? Do you think it added to our age?"
"If that's the case then 'Mione is much older than just a few months from us 'cuz she was using that damn thing all year! I still can't believe that we didn't catch on. And that she didn't tell us! Imagine all the pranks we could have pulled on Malfoy!"
"She would have taken our heads off about using it responsibly and 'not for stupid, frivolous things like pranking Malfoy'," Harry replied, mimicking Hermione's high-strung voice when she was particularly vexed with the both of them.
The boys snorted, imagining their female friend's expression. It was the first time that they had spoken about her without the guilt and tingling pain of not having her around.
"I miss her," Ron said, for perhaps the hundredth time since they had arrived.
"Yeah," Harry agreed morosely.
"Hey, Harry, I can't hear anything anymore. It's quiet," Ron said, slowing down to a halt.
"Too quiet," Harry agreed and pulled out his wand. The two of them surveyed their surroundings. The trouble with forests was that everything looked the same, trees, trees and more trees.
"Hello, boys," A sinister voice greeted them.
Harry and Ron yelped as the vampires from the Burrow reappeared in front of them, their wands were wrenched out of their hands as the vampires flew down from the camouflage of the night sky and landed swiftly on the ground.
"Where the hell did you come from?" Ron yelped.
A vampire, who appeared to be the leader of the pack, cocked his head to the side as though assessing Ron's intelligence. The vampire had black eyes tinged with a blood red circle on the outer edges, and looked practically human apart from the menacing fangs that looked sharp enough to tear through skin with just a bite.
"What are you going to do then? Kill us? Tear out our hearts?" Harry yelled at them as he struggled against the vampire that had his arms in a lock.
"Yeah?" Ron continued, without waiting for an answer, "well guess what? He died two times and he's still alive!" He screamed with a cock of his head in Harry's direction.
"And that is the only reason why you are surviving after what you did tonight. If it were down to me, I would rip your shrimpy little heads off your necks for killing three of my men but someone wants you alive," the vampire replied chillingly.
Harry and Ron struggled against their captors but it was to no avail.
"Bind them."
"Your Majesty!" Reepicheep exclaimed as he scampered towards Edmund who had been thrown against the wall. Edmund was holding the back of his head in severe pain.
"Lucy," he croaked.
"She's been taken, Sire," Reepicheep whimpered, not out of fear of the King but of what the King was going to do to get his sister back.
"Edmund," Hermione whispered as she knelt beside him. "I'm so sorry, I should have stopped her, but I was in shock, I wasn't expecting her to return, oh if only I had stun-"
Edmund grabbed Hermione's hand between his in a strong grip.
"Stop, you're in shock, you couldn't have done anything," he told her sternly.
"But I could have! I could have-" Hermione said desperately.
"And what exactly is it that you could have done?" Edmund questioned, not unkindly.
"I-" Hermione stumbled.
Should she tell him? Would it help if he knew that she could help in ways that he did not know? She may have belonged to the house of the brave but Hermione could not find the strength in her to tell him her secret.
"Exactly," Edmund concluded as he took her silence as her defeat.
"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked him, feeling the most helpless she'd ever felt.
Before Edmund could say that he had no idea; no idea where to begin, where to look, who to ask - the sound of hooves on cobbled stones echoed from outside. Edmund was immediately on his feet with both his swords drawn. He had the same fierce look on his face that Hermione had blearily witnessed when he had struck the three-headed beast in the chest and it was absolutely terrifying.
"Edmund," she tried to plea as he stalked outside but he had much longer limbs than her and she struggled to keep up with his pace with her twisted ankle.
"Your Majesty!" Peter gasped in surprise as Edmund appeared from the building.
"WHERE IS SHE?" Edmund roared. "WHERE IS MY SISTER?"
Peter barely had time to respond as he scrambled to draw his own sword in time to block Edmund's attack to his head. Peter winced as Edmund's other sword drew blood from his arm.
"EDMUND! STOP!" Hermione started to scream as Reepicheep scampered up Peter's leg to attack the man.
"WAS THIS YOUR PLAN? TO HOLD THE VALIANT QUEEN AS RANSOM? TO CONSORT WITH WITCHES?"
The clashing of swords echoed through the night. Again and again and again. Edmund was ruthless in his attack and Peter was just about keeping up with his defence and the only reason he could, was because he had regularly trained with Edmund during his earlier years.
"What on earth are you talking about?" Peter asked as he tried to shake Reepicheep off his shoulder and that second of distraction was all Edmund needed to kick Peter's legs and have him on the ground underneath him. Edmund raised his swords to make the last, fatal blow.
"EDMUND! NO! HE'S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS HOW TO CONTACT THE WITCH! HE'S OUR ONLY CHANCE OF GETTING LUCY BACK!" Hermione screamed just in time as Edmund halted his attack, his swords millimetres away from Peter's neck and chest.
Chest heaving, Edmund flipped his sword, not even wincing as the blade cut into his palm as he used the hilt to smash it against Peter's head, knocking him out cold. Turning around, Edmund looked at Hermione, grimacing as he saw the genuine fear and shock shining through her teary eyes, her face was white with shock. He didn't run after her when she turned on her heels and headed back inside the inn, but for the first time in the history of being a soldier dedicated to Narnia, he felt a slight bit of shame in his actions. He had let his anger overrule his logic and he regretted that she had witnessed the best inside of him.
"Get Lu's horse," Edmund ordered quietly to Reepicheep; after noting that Peter's own horse had scampered off in the middle of the fight, "we'll tie him up and take him back to the Cair for questioning."
Once Edmund had ensured that Peter was sufficiently bound, he left Reepicheep on guard so that he could fetch Hermione to leave. It was with great trepidation that he returned to the inn. Because, for once, he wasn't sure how she would see him. He had seen the fear in her eyes, he had scared her and for some reason that formed a rather large, unsettled pit in his stomach.
He didn't need to search hard for Hermione as he immediately spotted her sitting on the steps of the front porch. Her braided hair had come undone and stray pieces swayed along with the night breeze. The dried tracks of her tears on her cheeks remained as a reminder of the emotional night. He sighed deeply. Swallowing his pride, he repositioned his sword on his hip and sat down next to her. She was either ignoring his presence or observing the beauty of Narnia in the dead of the night but given their current location, Edmund doubted it was the latter.
He took in her features, highlighted by the soft moonlight as she sat in silence. That pit in his stomach bubbled again with anxiety, he wasn't sure what it was about her that made him feel so unsure of himself.
"I'm-" Edmund started, but she cut him off.
"Don't apologise if you don't mean it," she whispered softly. Her voice sounded dry and cracked, clearly she was more upset than she let on.
He blinked at her but her blazing gaze remained focused on a rotting piece of wood a few yards away from them.
"And how do you know that I'm not being sincere?" he asked, just as quietly; he feared scaring her again.
She didn't reply, but Edmund quickly caught the twitch of her thumb, as she brushed against the carved scar on her forearm. Edmund, with halting realisation, understood her unspoken words. He mentally winced as he reminded himself that he was not the only one who had been tortured, whom by was another discussion, but the fact still remained that they were both scarred individuals, physically and emotionally. What she had witnessed tonight had probably brought back memories of the war she had not survived. That feeling of helplessness and despair as everything around you fell apart was one that Edmund was very familiar with.
"I am sorry," he whispered with complete sincerity.
And apparently, she had not been expecting that from him, as she started and snapped her head to stare at him with an indescribable emotion plastered on her face. Taking in his show of goodwill, her lips quirked upwards in a silent acceptance before she turned back to stare ahead.
"He's not the man who we thought he was, is he?" she asked.
"No," was his curt response.
"And all of this, it's just started something bigger, hasn't it? This isn't just a random kidnapping, it should be, because how could they have known that Lucy would accompany us? Unless maybe they expected to capture you?"
"-" Edmund hesitated, as he had no answer for her questions.
"But then why does it feel like we are all pawn pieces in a bigger game that has not been revealed?"
"I wish I had an answer-"
"Who are we even fighting against?"
"That seems to be the biggest question," Edmund agreed.
"Because at the moment, all we have to target is a group with no faces bar one. Do we even know where to find them? They've managed to live under your noses all this while, the ones who wield magic, I mean. I thought that they were extinct in Narnia, at least that what the books said."
"That-"
"A group who can conjure a three-headed beast, a group who can creep into the castle walls and kill one of your men without your knowledge, of course, it all makes sense now, if they had magic there are small limits to what they can do, but how did you miss it? How did I miss it?" Her voice cracked at the last one, as though she had suddenly remembered something.
"You seem to be taking this entirely personally," he stated as he stared curiously at her.
"Of course, I am! I-" she halted. She what? She couldn't explain it to him. "I just wish that I could have done something to prevent this."
Edmund's face softened at her quiet admission.
"There's nothing you could have done," he reassured, placing a gentle hand on her arm.
"I'm older, though, if I had been taken ... I have more experience ... I can defended myself ... Queen Lucy is just so innocent-"
Edmund barked a laugh, Hermione looked at him with surprise.
"If you've been fooled by her sweet smiles and angelic aura, let me be the one to tell you that she is not as helpless as you think. She may be young-er, but don't forget that this is our fourth time, growing old. We're much older than we appear."
"So the stories are not exaggerated then?"
"No, and there's a reason why Aslan named her the Valiant; she maybe small, but she is fierce."
"Shakespeare," Hermione whispered with a smile.
"Yes," Edmund replied with a matching tilt of his lips.
"You scared me earlier," she admitted, turning her head away, the smile turning into a frown.
"I know, again, I apologise for not acting like the gentleman I was raised to be," he replied, sounding as though he was reciting something that had been repeated to him many times.
Hermione snorted, "you really are a King aren't you?"
"You had doubts?" He asked with a small smirk.
"Well not in appearances," Hermione flushed immediately as the words slipped out, as she realised how it may sound, "but, there are times where you act more like a soldier than a King."
"What do you mean by appearances?" Edmund asked, nudging her with his thigh, as he confidently stared directly into her eyes.
Hermione stared at him gobsmacked, unable to form a response. Was he flirting with her?
"Well, I mean, - your clothes, of course!" She fumbled, her cheeks burning bright.
"My clothes?" Edmund drawled, with a cocked eyebrow.
"Yes, I mean, the crown, the fabrics, the cape-"
"I am familiar with what I wear on a day to day basis," Edmund cut her off, as he took a moment of delight in relishing her flush of embarrassment. "Is that really all that you meant?" He pressed with a charming smirk.
He could tell that she was getting flustered, this was perhaps the most unsure he had ever seen her. He felt a boyish pride in the knowledge that he affected her as much as she affected him. He opened his mouth to tease her further but paused as he noticed a sudden change in her body language, she stiffened as though she had remembered something.
"Yes, that is all I meant," she replied in a surprisingly clipped voice, "and I think we should be going, actually."
She stood abruptly and headed off in the direction of the horses leaving Edmund behind; who, completely caught off guard by her standoffishness, wondered if he had completely misjudged their previous interactions to be something more than it was.
.
.
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A.N./ I'm sorry.
EDIT: This chapter has been revised.
I know that the update is so late, and I hope that you can forgive me. A shorter chapter this time, but it felt like the right place to sign off. Most of this chapter was written four months ago and has been sitting in my Doc Manager because I was so displeased with it. A lot of scenes have been cut from this chapter as I wasn't happy with the way that it was ordered. But, they are by no means outtakes. They have merely been moved to the next chapter as it's too juicy to delete.
I have also been warring in my head about when/how/where I wanted Harry, Ron, and Hermione to reunite and during my two-month break, I spent time sorting out the trio, and what will happen to them. Obviously, I'm not going to tell you how soon it will be before they meet; where's the suspense in that? ;) But I am now happy with the pacing of the story and somewhat happy with this chapter. It's not my favourite, but it had to be written to move the story forwards.
Thank you again to all the wonderful people who favourited, followed and reviewed. You guys continue to amaze me with your support.
Guest, Guest #2, Freedom Star, Anonymous, irishmcgiggles, imrjcool, Lithia Sunset, Mia is okay now, HestiaForever, theablue, Victoria, Anonymous #2, Guest #3, MoonWatersLight, AliceinWonderland13, OOANDISAOO, Suzululu4moe, craaazyaboutMalfoy, Guest #4, LackingDelirium, Parsi, twztdwildcat, and Lfagundes thank you for taking the time to leave a review even when I haven't been consistent with my updates. I hope that this chapter fed your OTP needs for the time being.