Twenty
Crater

Hermione remains silent while Draco battles every expected resistance.

In the end, the king's decree is law.

Every Wandmaker in the realm is given six weeks to craft a wand in hopes that their creation will choose the queen. The king's prize for the winning wand is beyond anyone's wildest dreams.

Excitement grows and spreads across the kingdom.

All the while, rumours run rampant like wildfire. Some are true, most are not.

Naysayers deem Hermione an enchantress, claiming she has the king under a mind control spell. Tales persist until Healers subtly check him for twisted magic, embarrassed when they find nothing awry. But women note the timing of her wanding, the tales of what happened in the throne room with the attackers, and spin romantic tales of a king's devotion.

Draco is irritated with everything that breathes, but for the first time, Sirius and Snape agree on one thing.

True or false, they must allow the rumours to breathe in peace.

Marietta's death brings a tiring realisation that their war is now on two-fronts; they must fight simultaneously. The stakes are too high. They must divide their resources.

The heads of their attackers are placed on pikes along the palace walls as a reminder of what happens to those who commit treason. Draco keeps Marietta's clue a secret from the majority of his Royal Council, but keeps up appearances. He suspends Court to allow time for Hermione, her Ladies, and Marietta's family to grieve.

Though Hermione does not ask, Draco arranges a funeral allowing Marietta the same pyre ceremony as a fallen soldier.

Her body is dressed in her favourite gown, decorated with flowers, and set out in the water on a boat. Cho lights the arrow, and when she falters, Hermione steps in and fires. The Court is stunned by her aim, but Hermione does not care. She overhears Draco promise Marietta's parents that they will destroy the necromancer.

Hermione wants this.

She must be wise. They must choose their battles.

And the fight against the rumours is not a confrontation Hermione wishes to have.

She ignores the nobles who gape openly upon her entrance into each room, the looks when she speaks or moves or breathes. It is a struggle, but for Draco, this is easy. After all, his perceived tyranny is well known and proven. Word of the king's violent punishment for the assassins only reinforces his capability for brutality.

Her approval remains a secret only he knows.

Days before her wanding, Hermione takes to the outdoors to speak freely.

She is not alone. Never alone. Always with her coterie of friends.

"Draco cares not for the love of the people," Sirius says in response to the debate over whether it is better to be feared or loved.

Beside him, Remus nods. He is taking a break after long hours assisting Percy with the Gaunt family research as well as tracing the movement of wolves in the kingdom. At night, he hunts for Greyback, the one who bit him as a child, to end his threats against Hermione.

"He is selfish and self-motivated." Remus glances at her. "This is not always a flaw."

Sirius makes a noise. "It is his job to rule, Moony. Not to be loved."

"You must know, Hermione." Remus' scars make his smile appear reserved. "It is your role to humanise him. It seems as though you are doing just that."

"How?" Hermione rolls her eyes. "I am a temptress, remember?"

Sirius laughs when she glares. "What? My cousin is wound tighter than a clock. Or shall I say was—"

"My Lord!" Hermione chastises.

"I am only offering my appreciation of your efforts to improve his mood." He winks.

Harry coughs to disguise his laughter over his godfather's rakishness. Daphne, Alicia, and Ginny smother theirs with their fists. Remus rolls his eyes.

Thunder rolls above, disrupting the mood.

Rain has kept them indoors for days. The fresh air has done wonders for their mood today, but storms will return. Luna ignores the impending deluge, skipping far ahead of the group to pick flowers.

Cho walks ahead of them but behind Luna. It has been three weeks since Marietta's funeral and she is still recovering from the loss. The fresh air does her well. Every now and then, she calls Luna's name when she veers too far off course. Hermione knows she needs someone to care for, just as Luna is content allowing this.

Hermione is arm in arm with Alicia, who battles troubles and nightmares from her ordeal, but stands strong and poised. There are few touches she allows now, but Sirius is never far.

And neither is Kaida.

She flies above, dipping and twisting, enjoying the skies.

This means Draco is not far either, likely still being badgered into stopping Hermione's wand ceremony.

How does anyone believe they can change his decided mind? Only decorum and strategy stay his wand when he is most aggravated with the council.

It is, Hermione reminds him daily, unseemly to kill advisors.

Or nobles.

Or anyone who is not a direct threat.

"The nobles see you as lesser because of the circumstances of your birth," Daphne speaks up after being mostly quiet, eyes tracking where Goldstein walks ahead near Cho and Luna. "They are jealous of your position and will accept any outlandish reason to explain the king's behaviour."

Harry snorts. "If anything Hermione tempers him… Slightly."

"They do not know this, nor do they care," Alicia says.

"Rhetoric, scapegoating, and false accusations." Hermione frowns with distaste. "There are those of my own sex, those who stand behind me as my Ladies, who wish to unseat me. They will twist everything that happens, good or bad, to suit their own agendas."

Harry whistles low. "Women are vicious."

"As are men," Hermione adds, much to Remus' amusement. "Noble heads of house and those on the council who do not care for me deem women weaker and less capable when it comes to things like judgement and ruling. To them, my role is a breeder. They condemn me for not doing my job."

Every face twists.

"Yet those same men accuse me of great power. Using magic to spell the mind of a Legilimens is not only utterly ridiculous, it also takes a skill I neither have nor want."

"Be that as it may, the people revere you." Sirius tilts his head up as he quickens his stride to end up beside Alicia. "I spend many nights in the town, drinking in the taverns. They speak of you. Percy has been surveying the kingdom for your schools. Word is beginning to spread of your wisdom during court disputes."

"I have been too busy to help in the ways that I want." Hermione looks down.

"Do not downplay your influence or your efforts," Remus says. "You have done more than Millicent in her years as queen. Taxes have been reduced, Millicent's laws have been abolished, and the rot of her touch has been cut away."

Hermione is surprised. The whirlwind since their marriage has kept her from noticing the changes Draco has made, the corrections done without prompting.

"That is not my doing, but the king's." She looks up at Kaida. The rips in her wings are barely visible, healed, but the scars will remain. She thinks of the man who has just as many and wonders if other broken pieces have been mended along the way. "They see the war, the violence, the bloodshed, but do not see the man lifting the constraints off the people, the oppression that has been growing heavier and heavier since before he was even born."

"The average noble cares nothing for peasants," Daphne says. "They care about what they can do for their pockets and crops and appearance. They also care about collecting their tax and using it to pay their dues to the royal treasury. But with you as queen, they look at peasants differently, willing to punish anyone too outspoken."

"I was only born a peasant," Hermione argues. "I was raised as a Lady. I am not extraordinary, I am my true, imperfect self."

"Even as a girl, you did not know your power, nor did you see your potential." Remus shakes his head. "It is as if you refuse to believe what Vasades speaks of you, aligning your destiny in a direction that would keep you in the shadows. And here you are."

Hermione looks at her old tutor, speechless. "I…"

"That you are a peasant by blood terrifies them." Remus draws his hands behind him. "It gives those below their station hope that they are not forever locked in the class of their birth. That like you—with the intervention of fate and fortune—they can rise."

Hermione looks at Daphne and Alicia. "What do you think?"

"The division between peasants and nobles exists for the same reasons rules do," Alicia states. "However, there are always exceptions, and they must exist. Nothing that remains stagnant can survive eternally. Not even you, Your Majesty."

Sirius, Ginny, and Harry stare at Alicia in shock. Remus smiles. Daphne already knows.

"What?" Alicia meets all their gazes boldly while Hermione laughs at the stand-off. "The queen is not the only one with a liberal mind. Outside of Queen Pansy, and now Queen Hermione, no one has ever asked my opinion."

Sirius runs a hand over his facial hair. "If you were a man, I would think you were the right consequence for the Royal Council."

"Why must I be a man?"

He fumbles to find an answer.

Remus laughs. "Go on, continue to render Sirius speechless. Indeed, these are strange times."

Sirius gives Remus a shoulder bump, but gestures to Alicia. "Do go on, Milady."

"Very well." She adjusts her arm in Hermione's. "More than half the council were appointed due to nepotism. The king has brought in people like Lord Theo and Lord Percy. Even Lord Smith, who is an expert at balancing the royal treasury. I would agree that Lord Snape belongs, but the rest—even you, Lord Sirius—are simply not qualified." Alicia winces and adds, "No offence."

"None taken." Sirius' smile grows. "You have a quick wit that I respect."

Remus agrees, but Harry is the one who says, "It is a wonder that you were unable to answer the king's questions."

"I answered his three questions on the first day, when the greetings were still private." Alicia shrugs. "But he did not choose me."

Hermione stops. "What?"

Draco does not look up from his book when he answers her unasked question.

"No."

Hermione squints, determination set in her bones. She shuts the door, ignoring the way Draco lifts his head to the ceiling and sighs. It is like he is well aware that she is there to vex him.

He is not wrong.

"I have one question." She holds up a finger. "Then I shall leave you to read."

"These are treasury books from Lord Smith, actually. Terribly dull. I read them to avoid Pucey's continued plight against the MacMillians. I am not certain how many ways I can say I will not go to war."

"Have you determined his reason for this agenda?"

"Riches, of course, but also familial ties. The new king is his cousin. His family staged a coup that the old king put down. His parents were executed, he was sent here in exile, but they requested I allow him the station of his birth. Lord Pucey wants to avenge his parents. I, however, believe their punishment fits the crime."

"Fascinating. At times, I believe he thinks I am the cause of your refusal to invade." Hermione sits beside him at the table. "That I am whispering in your ear, keeping the peace."

"Are you not?"

"In some ways, yes, but you have obviously made your mind up about this matter long ago."

Draco sighs. "I wish you would not hide the identity of anyone who mistreats you. I have had to spend the last few months figuring it out myself."

"It was not my intent to hide anything."

"No, you think I will strike down any ill tongue."

Hermione has seen him kill for less. "Will you not?"

Draco does not answer. "I know your distaste for most of my council—they do not find you fit to rule. Flint is another you dislike, but your reason for distrusting him is different. I have kept them on the outskirts of my confidence since committing to you and keeping the opinions of others outside of our marriage. Due to magical contracts, I cannot touch them unless they attack the crown."

"This is why the council does not fear you."

"Yes." Draco tilts his head slightly. "I have considered Pucey neither friend nor foe until now. He is quiet, says what I want to hear, while promoting his agenda against the MacMillians. I know he has been seen in the company of your Ladies, Leanne and Romilda. Tell me, has he done anything to you?"

"No. Lord Pucey avoids me, aside from odd looks and the fact that he seeks information about me from my Ladies—likely the two you mention. I do not know what he has gathered or wishes to learn. This is not a threat."

"But it is a show of his lack of allegiance to you." He touches her jaw and makes certain she is looking him in the eyes. "You must not continue to turn the other cheek. I can arrange to have his head cut off by another—I will, if you desire it."

He means it.

A shudder runs up her spine. "I… I do not."

"Very well, but now that I know this, if I see it in action, I will act."

"Draco—"

"Your lenience gives him the continued opportunity to act against you through means you, admittedly, do not know. It also shows everyone that you will not be provoked into responding violently… when you should."

"I am not cruel."

"But you could be." Draco leans closer. "I have seen it in you. I have felt your darkness grow since Lady Marietta's death. I prefer your light, but I do not mind the dark. You are capable of far more than you believe."

"Just as you are capable of kindness and light." Hermione wets her lips. "And deceit." When his expression changes to confusion, she wraps a hand around his wrist. She lowers her voice. "Alicia told me she answered your questions correctly first. Why did you not choose her to become your queen?"

Draco stares for a moment that stretches longer than is comfortable, then carefully extracts his wrist from her grip. "I choose not to answer."

"Then I will not leave." She folds her arms.

He returns to his book. "Very well."

It is not the response she expects.

"I can be as persuasive as I am aggravating." Hermione's voice remains low and private. She shifts her chair closer and swears she sees him tense.

"I am aware." Grey eyes slide to her then narrow a fraction. "I could cut your tongue out."

The threat is dull.

"You can, but you are not one to deprive yourself of something you enjoy." Hermione stands, noticing the way his eyes follow her every move.

Draco slides the book away and gives her his attention. "Since you insist on being stubborn."

"Always, but you just told me not to be lenient. I shall begin this with you. Here. Now." She unconsciously brushes her finger over the ring that sits on his thumb. "Why did you not choose Alicia?"

"I knew of Lady Alicia's opposition." Draco speaks as if he is an acrobat walking a wire. "Besides, she is not what I was looking for in a queen."

Hermione scoffs. "And I was?"

Turning in his chair, he draws her closer, eyes searching. "I have never lied to you, yet you do not believe me. It is as if you are incapable."

"Enlighten me."

Draco's jaw works slowly. He brings his hand to her chin, stopping her before she looks away. Leaning in a fraction, he all but whispers, "You have irritated me since the second time I laid eyes on you."

Heart beating a little harder, she dares herself to ask, "Had I not answered your questions, would you have moved on to the next?"

"You have asked this before."

"Knowing what I know now, I do not believe your initial response."

Draco stares at her. Bit by bit, he opens up until he is touching the ends of her curls. "I would have returned. Spoken to you. Persuaded you with terms, like in the rose garden. Lied to the world."

"You chose me, even before I knew you, even before you knew me."

"Yes."

Hermione swallows as the tension thickens like fog rolling off the sea. "All because of the image of me in Harry's mind? All because of a feeling? This bond between us?"

"I knew nothing of our bond. It does not matter to me."

"I agree, but—"

"We can sever the bond right now and I am certain nothing will change. I wanted you as my queen when you were nothing but an accidental memory I uncovered."

"But Millicent—"

"Three will fall before one will rise," Draco recites. "After your attack, Firenze spoke of a common-born destined to rule. One that was born on the final breath of summer. The half of a whole that will bring about a new age. I learned that night that I was one half and you were the other."

"All roads lead here. To you. To this life."

"So it seems."

Hermione is overwhelmed by prophecy, how so many small parts piece together to make a whole, but she accepts it. "What was the first memory you saw of me?"

"You were lecturing your friends about caring for their elves," Draco recalls. "I could detail each memory, if you'd like, but knowing every detail will not change the facts. I was intrigued with what I saw. When I saw you in the flesh for the first time in that field, I knew I had to survive the coup. When my council excluded you because you were common-born, I knew I had to change that. When I heard your thoughts in the Throne Room, I knew I was right to. I wanted you then. I want you now. It is easy to speak this truth because it will not change. Little Lion, why does anything else matter?"

To this question, to his truthful words, Hermione has no response.

Draco's hands move, fingers brushing over her ring. "In the end, you answered correctly, meaning that I did not have to resort to other… avenues to secure your hand. My only mistakes were my desire to shield you from everything and my assumption that you would allow this. Pansy and Astoria were right. Potter, too. No woman who could answer my questions would ever fall in line."

"I never intend to."

"No." Draco sounds thoughtful, eyes slightly hooded when he leans in close enough for his lips to brush hers. "You challenge me at every turn and never shut up."

"But you trust me now."

"I do," Draco answers quicker than she expects. "You have done much to earn it and keep it. To protect it."

"I am to be the mother of a bloodline that will expand our world beyond what we know. What do you know of the world beyond what you know?"

"No one has returned from travelling beyond the island my aunt hid on, where we banish families of those who commit crimes against the crown."

"Azkaban?"

"Yes."

"One day, our descendants will change this." Hermione looks down at his hand. "There is much to discuss on this topic, an urgency I feel."

"I am aware, but there is something coming, sooner rather than later. Voldemort's followers have all but vanished. This leads us to believe there is something afoot. For you to be with child…"

"It would not be wise." She stares at him. "When such a time comes, I caution you against using your wand."

His expression changes slightly as the tension breaks. "Do you know the same secret Potter and Lord Snape keep?"

"I do."

Hermione expects him to lash out, to push her to speak, but he only kisses her once more. "Telling you is a move I did not expect. I do not understand the games the old man is playing."

"I do not either, but he spoke to me at Pansy's wedding, when I aired my grievances concerning his disservice to you."

Draco is visibly surprised. "Grievances?"

"Yes. I make observations. For one, Dumbledore does not speak the truth about his injury."

"It is a curse. He confessed to Snape while he was trying to cure him that he and Longbottom went searching for the Resurrection Stone that was separated from the Marvolo ring. He found a fake in a cave full of Inferi that cursed him. He knew it was not real but took it anyway."

"Is it fatal?"

"Eventually."

"Why did he touch it?"

"I would have done the same for the chance to see my mother again."

Hermione lowers her eyes. "Marietta wrote the word stone in her blood. Do you think she knew the Resurrection Stone's location?"

"I believe she did. And it must be close. Here."

"Then why have you not called off the search?"

"To not arise the suspicion of the one who carries it."

Kaida takes flight the next morning for breakfast after Hermione checks her wings.

"This belonged to one of the fallen guards." Draco offers her a wand. "It is pliable so I have decided to use it to train you how to cast with a wand."

She takes it carefully. It feels odd, not like Draco's felt in her hand in the heat of the moment.

"You know a myriad of spells, studied even the ones you could not cast. I have seen you cast a few. Show me more."

Hermione does.

Some work. Some do not.

The wand reluctantly behaves. Still, she feels the power in having the means to protect herself. Draco adjusts her motions for maximum effect, guides her, and when she fells a tree with a cutting charm, it earns them disapproving glares from Kaida, who is trying to eat her breakfast in peace.

"Perhaps this is enough for today." Hermione grins when the dragon huffs in annoyed agreement.

Draco relents with a strange ease, and instead of taking to the skies, they take a small rowboat out on the lake. The sun makes the chill in the air tolerable.

This is the second time they have been out together. The first was her birthday a fortnight ago when—before the celebration feast—they watched the large fish swim in the clear waters before stripping down and jumping in only to realise the water was far cooler than it looked.

Today, Hermione is content to watch Draco row and reminisce on half a year of marriage.

It feels surreal.

Much has happened.

"I recall you calling me judgmental and naïve."

"As well as aggravatingly good with morals." Instead of smiling as Draco is wont to do when they are alone like this, he frowns. "If caring about orphans and house-elves will please you, then I will."

There is something deeper in this comment, but the distaste in his voice is louder.

He drops the paddles. They float in opposite directions.

Draco scoots until he is in the middle.

Hermione meets him, pressing a kiss below his eye, just where the scar ends. "You should care because it is right, but that is not what drives you."

"No, it is not."

She swipes his hair from his forehead. "You fight a war out of a desire for revenge and self-preservation, but also out of love for your mother. You wish to see her killer rid from existence."

"That is correct," Draco replies with a low, dry heat that makes her lean in.

"My brother wishes to rid the realm of Voldemort. Power tempts you, so what is it that stops you from conquering the realm for yourself? What is it that stops you from being a tyrant?"

"Economics, among other factors." His hands stop on her arse and he shifts her closer. She turns her head and Draco nips her ear. "Uniting under one king is far too much effort. An empire that grows too large to sustain will collapse under its own weight."

"How reasonable of you." Hermione wraps her arms around his neck. "However selfish and questionable your morals are."

"Morality is a word people invented to shame others who do not see the world as they do."

This conversation should bother her sensibilities, even as he undoes the laces of her gown, but it does not. Hermione understands him far better now than before. Draco is a product of his station, his parents, and the war he has known all his life—both within himself and the realm.

This is who he is.

She cannot change him, but she can show him how she sees him.

"I will confess, how I see the world is different. I see ugly stains, the bits that will never make sense, the evil, but I also see the good. Not only in everything, but also in you."

Draco pauses. For an infinite moment, he stares at her, searching every bit of her face and mind. Then he kisses her with an aggressive need.

"After everything you know, everything you have witnessed, you truly believe this?"

"I do."

The wand ceremony is a public affair; every noble is required to attend.

Nobility from other kingdoms arrive, much to Draco's surprise and paranoia. He is polite but speaks of little else except conspiracies and security.

Hermione's Ladies share her excitement. For the first time, the cloud of gloom from Marietta's death begins to lift as her Ladies make friends with the visiting Courts. Draco is paranoid about such attachment. Hermione agrees and keeps watch, admittedly swept up in her own excitement.

Her parents and the Weasleys are set to arrive.

Theseus Scamander and his Unspeakables will be close but unseen.

Pansy and Neville will arrive one day before the event.

She cannot wait to see them all.

Just as Hermione tempers his mood, each night leading to their arrival, Draco uses his body to help with her excess energy, ending her chatter with his mouth first, then his cock.

He has yet to completely distract her; still, he keeps trying.

Draco rarely tires, but he is almost relieved when her parents arrive with Ron and Susan.

That they bring their children is a pleasant surprise. The small swell of Susan's belly is an even bigger one.

"We think it is a boy, but she does not want to do the charm to confirm," Ron tells her and Harry. They steal a moment alone to lie together in the palace garden, just like old times. Hermione leaves her crown behind but not Kaida, who is curled nearby, dozing, full after her hunt for lunch with dragon friends. "We will name him after my father."

It is excellent news but something dims within Hermione.

"I imagine it will not be long for you now." Ron rubs his neck. "I do not particularly care, but Susan says those in the village await news of an heir. Charlie says the mood is similar in the Shacklebolt Kingdom. Fred and George report the same."

Hermione does not know how to answer.

They are careful. Regardless of the efficacy of the Jamu plant, Draco does not finish inside her for the entire week the Healer says she is most fertile. They discuss it at length as the palace watches Hermione for signs of change. She has another year to conceive before the noise becomes unbearable. Draco hopes to have the conspirators handled by then, but still winces at the thought of siring children.

Hermione wonders how much the happenings and impending war can distract them.

She worries about how much worse the rumours will get. Even her neutral Ladies gossip when they believe she is not listening. Rumours of her being barren, concealing the use of a contraceptive potion, and talk of the king's eye wandering to Astoria.

The gossip pours from the walls, and everyone looks for proof.

Hermione can hardly show interest in an herb without someone whispering. Astoria has spoken boldly against the gossip, kept her distance from Draco, but it is not enough.

"How are things?" Ginny asks when she joins Hermione on the blanket after Harry takes Ron on a tour of the grounds, passing Kaida. He is fascinated with the king's familiar, albeit afraid.

"As well as they can be."

"And the king?"

The corner of her lips curl in a slight smile.

Ginny knows her well. "You actually do love him."

Since her talk with Astoria, the word enters into her thoughts at the most random times.

Draco closes in on her heart each day. It is imminent, but the logistics plague her.

Hermione knows she can fall in love, but wonders if he is capable.

Or maybe this is something they will do together.

"I… can confess to you that I know I am on the edge of falling." Efficient and cold, he wields his wand of justice with cruel fairness. "I have worries and concerns, but I distract myself. It helps that he has become both an attentive husband and an exceptional lover."

They both laugh until Hermione sobers.

"Love is something I see all around me, something I feel between my family and myself. What I feel for him is different, that it is close, but how close—"

Draco approaches, guards flanking him on either side.

Here for her, most likely.

Harry and Ron stand side by side as the latter officially meets the king. Ron's bow is as awkward as he can be. Too tall, too quick, he nearly hits the king with his head. Draco says something that makes Harry glare.

Ginny winces.

All of a sudden, Kaida's wing opens, knocking Draco on his arse. He glares at his familiar as he gripes, being helped up by a humoured Harry and Ron, who now looks far less nervous about being around the same king who has killed so many. Kaida breathes her version of a laugh. It grows louder until an ember escapes, catching Draco's cloak.

He rips it off and stomps out the fire while cursing at Kaida, who laughs harder at his distress.

But then he stops, rolls his eyes at whatever his dragon has said in his mind, and smiles.

Openly.

Freely.

It wrinkles the corners of his eyes.

The last walls around her heart collapse. He is rushing in, filling her veins with emotions that make her feel both the same and brand new. Alive.

Hermione cannot breathe.

Ron no longer looks alarmed. Harry is no longer irritated. Even Ginny grins and laughs.

But she does not move.

Not when she is called.

Nor when Draco approaches, offering his hand.

Her heart races too hard for her to stand on her own, yet she does. She does not let go, staring up at him as her doubts, questions, and all the inconsequential things that flood her mind recede.

Hermione wonders if he hears, if he knows. "Are you listening?"

"No," Draco replies, searching her face. "Even if I were, I do not think I could hear a thing over your racing heart. Are you well?"

"I am," she confesses with a breathless smile. "I am happy you are here."

The doors to the hall open.

Everyone rises as the trumpets sound.

Knights stand at attention, wands dawn and pointed up. They line the aisle.

Hermione enters the hall, dressed in exquisite green silks with a severe Draco at her side in complementing fashion. A hush befalls the gallery. It is not customary for him to enter beside her, but Draco has had to block her way twice already to stop her from fleeing. All the eyes leave her stomach twisted in knots. Hermione keeps her head forward as they approach the long table of wands.

Creators stand before their creations. All shapes and sizes. Various woods and cores.

Draco releases her hand and steps back, calling the start to the ceremony.

"The wand chooses the witch."

And if it does not?

She has already asked; Draco's response was cagey at best. Given the lack of a male heir, and the nobility who do not think she is fit to be queen, it will be another excuse to cast her from the castle.

Another way that Hermione isn't worthy to wear the crown on her head.

She approaches the first wandmaker, an old man. Gregorovitch.

"Ten and a half inches, made of alder with a phoenix feather core, Your Majesty. All you need to do is touch it."

She does not look back but knows Draco watches.

The entire room hangs on every moment.

When she picks up the wand, nothing happens.

Whispers begin.

They grow as she goes down the line, testing wand after wand.

"Ten inches, made of pear, Your Highness." Thiago Quintana bows. "Possessors are, in my experience, usually popular and well-respected. White River Monster spine is a core that produces spells of force and elegance."

It does not choose her.

Hermione grows frazzled as she closes in on the end.

"I am Garrick Ollivander," the wandmaker says. "I believe this is what you seek."

She has heard the same from each wandmaker before.

The doubt in her heart overshadows the light.

"Ten and three quarters inch, made of vine wood—a symbol of passionate emotions in each extreme. Love and hate. Happiness and wrath." He picks it up and offers it to her. "This wand possesses a living dragon's heartstring as its core. Rare in itself, but that it was given freely is unheard of."

Hermione freezes.

"Take it," Ollivander implores.

She does, wrapping her hand around the hilt.

It sings to her with light and a phantom wind that blows through the room.

She feels complete in ways she cannot comprehend.

"The wand has chosen you, my queen." Ollivander smiles, head bowed in reverence. To the room, he announces, "It is a match: vine with heartstring of the King's familiar."

Murmurs grow deafening.

They spread.

Outside Kaida roars.

Hermione stares at the wand in her hand.

Not only linked to the crown in marriage, but to the core of her magic.

Hermione exhales a shaky breath and turns to find Draco standing alone.

The entire hall has taken a knee.

"You knew."

Draco offers his hand, ignoring the accusation Hermione speaks between a smile.

They are the first dance of the banquet, as is proper. Everyone is seated as they take the floor alone. Every eye is on the king who does not dance and the queen who accepts his hand. The musicians start a slow, intense tune.

Draco leads with his left. She follows. They part, come together, and pass.

Dancing with Draco is much like sparring, different yet with the same fluid grace. He glides while she floats. To Hermione's surprise, every step he takes is like muscle memory. Years will pass, yet he will not forget this dance.

And neither will she.

"The heartstring," Hermione says as they circle each other. "When I was dying."

"Chordae tendineae. A dragon has two." Draco steps back, then forward. Their hands meet but do not touch. "Dragons are selfish and greedy beings. The easiest way to destroy a dragon is through its heart."

"Most heartstrings are secured after death." Hermione steps to the side as he does the opposite. The moves come naturally, without thought.

"Strong emotions will cause them to give up a heartstring during life. I allowed Ollivander to use it to create a wand."

"Will it regrow?"

"No." Draco watches her circle him, marking her every step, his voice low beneath the music. "It would not be rare if it happened commonly."

Hermione is startled by his words, by their implication. "I did not know."

The musicians hold the final note.

"It is not your doing. It is hers."

The dance ends. They bow to resounding applause, which falls silent when Draco kisses her hand before the entire hall.

Sporadic gasps erupt from the attendees.

Affection like this is unheard of, but she does not reject him or the heat in his eyes.

It is a statement before the court, before the hall, before the kingdom.

Hermione is flushed when Draco offers his arm. They return to their seats at the high table. Food appears, and the banquet begins in earnest. It is cheerful, the mood pleasant and jovial. Her Ladies sit with their families. Representatives from other kingdoms mingle and mix. Guards line the walls.

Seeing Pansy and Neville again is pleasant—both at ease with the other. Happy. Harry sits at the table closest to theirs with her parents, Ginny, and the Weasley brothers who live within the kingdom. Mother sneaks glances at her, sending looks Draco's way that Hermione cannot decipher.

Rosier stands and raises his glass.

They all do the same.

But his toast is not to the queen or the king.

The cups shake in their hands.

His smile grows. "To the new order."

The world squeezes them tight.

A lightning-sharp crack tears through the hall's light music.

Hermione is both compressed and stretched, the feeling nauseating.

When it stops, it is worse.

She falls into grey.

They all do.

Head over feet.

Feet over head.

The ground rushes at her, and screams of other falling guests ring out.

Landing leaves her disoriented and breathless.

A beat of silence is then filled with groans of pain.

Hermione slowly gets to her feet. Like the other guests, she looks around at their new location with dazed confusion. Goblets lay scattered on the patches of grass around them.

Broken headstones and fallen statues mark the landscape of the forgotten.

A graveyard.

Draco is not far. His wand is out, his eyes on the sky as he calls to Kaida. There is no telling where they are or how far they have travelled.

Her parents, Snape and Dumbledore, Ron and Percy, Sirius and Remus, Pansy and Neville…

They crowd around Ginny, who has a concerned arm wrapped around a pale and drawn Harry. "Something is wrong."

Hermione does not expect what happens next.

Instead of aiding Harry, Dumbledore turns to Draco, extending his hand. "I need your wand. No questions."

"What are you not telling me?"

Snape rushes to him. "Now is not the time for arguments, Sire. Now. Trust me."

Draco reluctantly hands his wand to Dumbledore.

Hermione does not understand what is happening, but Harry grows worse. Judging from his rapidly flushing skin, the sweat, and the vacant expression in his eyes, what ails him is not poison.

But it is toxic. Unnatural.

Not of this world.

Harry doubles over, covering his scar as he yells in excruciating pain.

"He is here."

Crater: In Greek mythology, the Crater constellation represents the cup of the god Apollo.

A/N: *insert big bird kicking down the door meme* Hello. I'd apologize for the cliffhanger but that would be disingenuous. Hope you enjoyed and are strapped in for the ride that is the next chapters. Seven to go before this wraps.