Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea

Chapter 22: A dragon is analyzed…

"In the aftermath of the Ur-dragon's attack, the Kingfisher and her crew were left in a terrible bind. A damaged ship, no sanctum stone to propel us through the ice and no wind to carry us forward without out. We were, effectively, stranded, with the all encroaching ice threatening to overwhelm us. We were left stuck and helpless in a cold that could freeze the meat right on ones bones. It's odd, really, Hermione and I never quite realized the predicament we were in at the time. The captain did, though. And he kept a brave face on for the sake of his crew and passengers."

- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006

Sunniva had been sitting vigil next to Tahki's bed in sickbay ever since the defeat of Níðhöggr, now hours ago. Though she was admittedly very impressed by Bellatrix for essentially taking out a god, she was certainly not the first mortal in the old tales to cross blades with a god and emerge victorious. While undeniably a great warrior, Sunniva would not go as far as to proclaim her one of the Winged Women in human form. For one, she didn't have any wings sprouting from her back, after all. Though she supposed her two former jomsvikingr were left without someone to follow and were now quick to latch on to the girl whom had achieved the impossible.

Though, who was she to say the girl was not a god in mortal form? That was for shamans to decide and she was certainly not one of them. Bellatrix' potential divinity was not her main concern at the moment, not as long Tahki was lain out before her. The ship's doctor had told her that she would be alright after a few hours of recovery, but she would see this with her own eyes. As it had been several hours now, her concern started to grow, giving her more time to think about the implications of the defeat of Níðhöggr. With the Bane of Yggdrasil slain, her people would now be able to reclaim lands lost and sail these waters once more. This would be an inevitability. Relationships between Thule and the other parts of the wizarding world were already tenuous at best so this would, no doubt, invite further conflict.

So, more war yet to come. More bloodshed. Sunniva was all in favour of combat, but she doubted there would be much honour to be had in the days ahead. Ironic, really. Even in death, Níðhöggr could very well be responsible for the end of Thule and its people.

Such concerns were for later, though, as she was relieved to see Tahki finally open her eyes, even though the girl was less than happy about it.

"Oh, goooodddd…" she muttered. "My head hadn't felt like this since that time Steve and I broke into my gramps' liquid cabinet. What the hell happened with that big-ass dragon?"

Sunniva smiled warmly. "Said 'big-ass dragon' as you so colourfully describe one of the gods of my people, now lies dead beneath the waves, thanks to your cousin. I am told her bravery was a sight to behold."

"No shit?" said Tahki after Sunniva gently helped her sit up on the bed. "Sorry I missed it."

"As I understand," said Sunniva. "Níðhöggr's magical attacks were so powerful that they overwhelmed your senses."

Tahki snorted. "That would explain the feeling as if a herd of stampeding horses ran over my head. I bet I'm not as impressive anymore now that my cousin killed that thing, hm?"

"On the contrary," replied Sunniva.

"Yeah, right," Tahki rolled her eyes. "I must have very impressively fell on my ass."

"Do not be so hard on yourself," said Sunniva.

Tahki froze for a moment, studying her for a moment before raising an eyebrow. "You've been watching me sleep."

Sunniva's eyebrows shot into her blonde hairline. "I… uhm. I sat vigil at your bed. There is a difference. I could call for the doctor if the need would arise."

"Only joking," said Tahki with a wink. "You're such an easy target, Sunni. We'll need to work on your funny-bone."

"My… funny… bone…?" she replied quizzically, pondering just what the girl had meant. After remaining silent for a while, Sunniva cocked her head sideways and furrowed her brow. "I am quite certain such a bone doesn't exist."

Tahki shook her head and sighed heavily. "Developing a sense of humour! Working on your sarcasm detector! Evading quips! Your shit-talking skills! Things you must work on! You walk into verbal traps as if you're a deer looking at a truck's headlight! If there's a shady white van with 'free candy' written on the side, you'd be the fat kid getting in the moment you see it!"

Sunniva crossed her arms. "I do not know what a 'van' is, but I assure you I am in peak physical shape," she replied. It pleased her that Tahki's eyes roved over her abs, the muscles in her arms and quite approved of what she saw. Good. Her skills are a warrior was still the only thing of value she had to offer.

"Yes…" spoke Tahki. "I can… see that. And I also see that we have a lot of work ahead of us. But, not to worry. We'll start off with gramps' dad jokes and my brother's dirty jokes and then we'll move on to advanced sarcasm and comebacks. You'll be shit-talking right along with me an Nymph in no time. Though you'll have to be careful around Nymph. She's far more clever than she looks and she hits below the belt like the treacherous limey bitch she is."

Curious. Tahki called her cousin treacherous, one of the worst insults among her people, and yet Tahki spoke of her with such fondness. There was still much about outsiders she did not understand.

"You should introduce me to your friends," said Tahki.

"My… friends?" Sunni frowned, until she realized. "Ah, yes. But Svari and Gudrun are more than just my friends. They are my jomsvikingr. My fiercest, most loyal and trusted companions. Skilled warriors, the both of them. I… do not wish to think upon the shame they must have endured when they were given to Ragnar after my exile. No doubt Ragnar enjoyed tormenting them in my place. It is a grave dishonour."

"Well, they're here now," said Tahki. "And you don't have to be alone anymore now."

"I have not been alone from the moment I met you," Sunniva admitted, the words leaving her mouth before she could even consider the implications. Tahki looked at her for a moment, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks.

Sunniva had lost everything and she didn't know why. Many warriors of her station would have lost themselves to despair. But the thought of building a new life in Montana with Tahki's family gave her hope. Bellatrix had told her she knew that she loved Tahki.

Maybe one day, Tahki would know this too.

Hermione's heart was still racing when the expedition members gathered in the newly refurbished conference lounge. The windows had been replaced with solid wood, so the room was only lit by a few hastily placed lamps bolted in the walls and ceilings. Not much in the way of furniture either, other than a central table and a single chair. So, the gathered members simply stood. Kirk, of course. Eleanor, looking increasingly sickly. Chandra, looking pensive. Bellatrix, already taking notes.

Hermione's heart, indeed still racing, but not so much from the ordeals of the day and even not so much for Bellatrix' sake… not as much at least, but from the implications of what she had potentially discovered. For the first time on this trip, she actually felt like a proper naturalist. On the table was her laptop along with several tissue samples some members of the crew were able to recover on broom before duties called them back to the Kingfisher.

Of course, more importantly the ships' diving bell which had been strapped to the fore was now finally finding some use. From underneath the frigid waters, the diving bell was being piloted by Oswald and Daelia as it swerved through the depths. More impressively, a magical camera was sending real-time images to the table, though calling them images was an injustice. What they were looking at was nothing short of a hologram projected above the table by a magical counter-receiver. Though the images were in monochrome grey, it more than accurately showed the ocean floor… and the corpse of the dragon which now rested upon it.

Close to the shore, the waters were relatively shallow, but still over a hundred meters deep. The diving bell's lights illuminated the scene of the sprawled out dead Ur-dragon.

Simply… staggering.

Hermione was already taking notes and making calculations. This wonder had to be documented and preserved, if only through photographs. Oswald had assured her that the footage the diving bell made would be stored in a pensive-like structure so that she could study the images further later. But that didn't mean she was in her element. "Look at that," Hermione muttered. "Astonishing."

"Astonishingly dead, I hope," said captain Kirk. Hermione shot him a scowl in response, but quickly realized that considering this dragon had only hours ago tried to make a meal out of his ship and crew. His misgivings were understandable. Yes, the ordeal had been terrifying and life-threatening, but one had to be rational about these things.

Part of her wished she could have been down in the diving bell herself, but she lacked the necessary experience to pilot or man it and would have been more of a burden than anything else.

A slightly distorted voice came from the horn on the table. The horn, looking much like an old gramophone horn, carried the voice of Oswald from the diving bell. "You seein' this, captain?" sounded Oswald.

"Aye, large as life," confirmed Kirk.

"It looks dead enough," sounded Oswald. "I'll try to swing in a little closer."

While the others gawked at the image, Hermione tapped some numbers into her laptop. "This dragon has an approximate length of eighty meters from tip of the snout to the tip of the tail. With a wingspan of 65 meters. That would make it bigger than a commercial airliner. Cause of death was severe internal trauma. Even despite the power-output from the exploding Sanctum Stone, the explosion of wind sought the path of least resistance. The jaw and throat were completely blown out, but the top of the head is still attached to the body. That speaks to the massive muscle-strength of the beast."

Chandra sighed through her nose. "And to think that thing was in the air, actually able to fly and swooping down at us. And Bellatrix here actually took it down."

Bellatrix, as expected, beamed proudly. Proud as a peacock, in fact. Well, Hermione supposed she had earned it.

"My point being," Chandra added. "This dragon had to be enhanced magically. The pure metric tonnes of that muscle-mass means no wings would be large enough to allow it to take flight proper, let alone move the way it did."

"I've come to the same conclusion," said Hermione. "I…"

There was a knock on the door and Hermione almost huffed, with a glare that demanded to know why the person at the door was even here. One of the Neo-Vikings had arrived. The raven-haired one. Tall, athletically muscular, buxom and showing far too much skin than was wise for the Arctic or appropriate for official meetings. Seriously, a scale-mail bikini and some tufts of fur for decoration. Didn't these people ever get cold?!

"Welcome," said captain Kirk, greeting the raven-haired woman. "Well, it has been a few interesting days, hasn't it? We short one member, though I am told the doctor expects Tahki to make a full recovery. I have invited miss Svari Olafsdottir in hopes that she can shed some light on the situation."

"It is my honour to answer the call of the Mortal Valkyrie herself," said Svari, giving her Bellatrix an intense look which Hermione didn't like for a single bit. She instinctively hooked an arm around Bellatrix possessively and shot Svari the angriest of glares. Staking her claim, showing that Neo-Viking savage harpy that Bellatrix was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, hers and hers alone. Of course, Bellatrix was more than a little amused by this.

Svari, still giving eyes to Bellatrix, continued. "As I told captain Kirk earlier, after our raid Ragnar broke off from the main fleet on the return trip to Thule and ordered us to pursue the Kingfisher. We were honour-bound to agree even if there were a few who protested. They… did not travel further with us…" she spoke softly and with a regretful tone. "Ragnar fancied himself a king in the making, vowing to finish what Queen Ealdwynn, in his eyes, had failed to do. He had hoped to return with your heads and overthrow the queen. The storms were against us, as if the All-father himself warned us to turn back. Unfortunately, Ragnar did not listen and he invoked Níðhöggr's wrath simply by being here."

"Allow me to cast some doubt on your silly superstitions," said Hermione, enjoying a moment of shocked anger on Svari's face. "Have a look at this," said Hermione as she pointed to the magical hologram of the dead dragon. Now that the diving bell was a little closer to the Ur-dragon, much more had become clear to Hermione. "Aside from the size, if you look at the shape of the body and the head, the proportions of the wings to the size of the body and the shape of its horns, you will see a lot of commonalities with the Swedish Short-Snout. As you might know, dragons never stop growing as they age. This large specimen may simply be a Swedish Short-Snout, only very old. Or a precursor. Fact remains, this thing is no god, but merely a mundane dragon… if a very ancient one."

Svari slammed her hands on the table, startling everyone for a moment. The tall woman seethed and Hermione imagined she would want nothing more than to bash her skull in with a club. "You mock the powers of Asgard!" Svari spoke angrily. "You spit on the All-father's wisdom! You diminish the greatness of the Mortal Valkyrie even while stood next to her!"

"Yeah," Bellatrix smirked. "Stop diminishing my greatness, Hermie!"

Hermione ignored her and simply shook her head. "This is what you get when dealing with violent zealots!" Hermione sighed. "Violent zealots who insist on living in the past and holding on to dated superstitions!"

"How do you explain its fury and power?! How do you explain its anger?! How do you explain the fact that it drove our people from these lands with such fervour?!" Svari demanded angrily.

"Simple," replied Hermione with a cold and, admittedly, somewhat smug tone. "Swedish Short-Snouts are well known to be the most ferociously territorial dragons in existence. The larger they are, the larger the territory they claim. But they also leave people living in their territory alone if they do not consider them a threat. Hence why the local Inuit never had any problems with this creature. If I'd hazard a guess, your foolish ancestors were bold enough to try to challenge the beast and paid the price for it. It's as simple and mundane as that."

The Neo-Viking woman's eyes were lit on fire, her hands balled into fists as her body trembled. Svari Olafsdottir looked to be ready to jump over the table and pummel Hermione to death with her own laptop. "Were you not the concubine of the Mortal Valkyrie," Svari hissed. "I would kill you where you stand."

"Ah, yes, thank you for proving my point," Hermione raised her chin haughtily. "Confronted with the truth and you response with senseless savagery! How typical."

"Whoa, Hermie, what's gotten into you?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed," said Kirk with crossed arms. "That will be quite enough of that, miss Granger. No need to antagonise our guest."

"I am harsh because I am right!" said Hermione, turning a cold gaze to the raging Svari. She trusted that she had put the Neo-Viking in her place for now, as she should have been. "And to answer your question about its fury and power? It's augmentation. Take another closer look at the dragon's back,"

Hermione had already come to this conclusion from studying the samples they had gathered from the ice, but now that the diving bell was close to the dragon's back, her conclusions had been confirmed. On the table, it was clearly seen that crystalline spikes jutted from the dragon's skin along regular lines. "We have a shard of one of those crystals here. Take a look at the table. Remember that when the Ur-dragon commenced its breath attack, we saw the dragon become brighter, correct? That was rows of those spikes lighting up with power."

Chandra smiled. "I see what you're getting at. My machines were still measuring below deck and they picked up a massive surge of magical energy," she said, rolling out some read-outs on scrolls. "Look here. It's off the chart, but it wasn't inside the dragon or generated by the creature. No, look, magically energy was drawn straight from the lay-lines into the creature."

Eleanor blinked. "Are you telling us that the creature tapped into the lay-lines and channelled all that magic straight at us as a weapon to wipe us out?"

"It would have succeeded too," said Chandra. "Every attack drew exponentially more power. The next hit would have likely shattered our shield on impact and turned us into dust."

"The crystals are pure moonstone. Meant to store magical energy," she said. Hermione then moved to the horn. "Oswald?" she asked. "Could you move the diving bell a little closer to the head, if you please? If you could lower down to where its lower jaw would have been and shine the light upon it, that would be perfect."

Oswald confirmed and did so. Hermione waited with baited breath while she peered at the image as it shifted towards the exposed flesh and innards of the dragon. The moment the lights of the diving bell hit the torn flesh, a grin formed: she'd been proved right yet again. "See this?" Hermione pointed to a section of torn flesh, right underneath the thick hide and along a row of spikes right above it. "In the neck? It's subtle."

She could tell the others couldn't see it, so Hermione decided to simply tell. "Six points, in the neck. All glinting in the light of the diving bell. It's metal. More specifically, this metal," she said and provided a small gold-yellow shard. "Fished this little shard from one of the tissue samples. I'm sure you recognise it, Eleanor."

"Orichalcum!" Eleanor gasped. "This dragon must be connected to the lost city of Hyperborea."

Hermione nodded. "That is my thought as well. The moonstone and the orichalcum inside its body isn't a natural phenomenon. The orichalcum is pure. Far too pure to be natural. And it's the most efficient conductor of magical energy known to man. No, no, no. This is… or rather was… a cyborg."

"A whatborg?" asked Kirk.

Hermione thought a moment. "It's more like… a biomechanical construct, possibly a very old one. My working hypothesis is that this creature once started out as a regular Swedish Short-Snout but was changed. Augmented. Transformed into a creature of unimaginable power to serve as a guardian of sorts. Did you also notice another thing which happened immediately after the dragon was killed? Think closely."

"The wind! The snowstorm! It stopped as soon as the dragon died!" Chandra snapped her fingers and went in to check their readings.

"We suspected that the snowstorm wasn't natural," said Kirk. "It simply lasted too long. Much longer than the capricious Arctic weather patterns would usually allow."

"Yes, it's right here!" Chandra cursed under her breath. "I never saw it! How could I miss this? Look, here in the output. There's this low-level magic that's pretty much all-encompassing. I thought it merely part of the background magic from the lay-line clusters, but… no, it came from the dragon itself!"

"It could be a hunting method, or a way to disguise itself or even part of its purpose to guard and protect the city of Hyperborea. Drive off everything which comes close with foul weather and if that fails…" Eleanor mused.

"… appear from under the ice and simply annihilate them," interrupted Bellatrix, snapping her fingers.

"See?!" Svari pressed. "Hear your own words! Níðhöggr was a god! Forged in the fires of Alfheim, their hands guided by Loki himself!"

Hermione smirked and shook her head. "Doubtful. A wise man once said 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic'. What we've seen today fits that description perfectly. This is ancient magic far beyond what we have today. The source of said ancient magic, while an interesting question in itself, is irrelevant to the point that what this Ur-dragon represents. This 'magitek', as it were, is not divine. Advanced, yes, but decidedly mundane."

"Yes," Bellatrix rubbed her chin. "The fact that I blew its block off rather proves your point."

"There's more," said Hermione. "Oswald, could you rise a few meters up and turn the camera to the left some thirty degrees?"

Hermione waited for the image to shift. "Look at the face. The shape of the jaw. The three sets of eyes on either side of the skull. We've seen that before, haven't we, Trix?"

Bellatrix nodded. "Yeah, I saw that when I was up in the air. Unicornis Rex. You know what that means, right?"

"Enlighten us, please," Kirk requested.

"We've encountered Unicornis Rex in the Fae Realm, a magical creature not of this Earth," said Hermione. "It was powerful, ruthless and relentless, much like this Ur-dragon. We still have nothing but speculation on what the Fae Realm actually was, but this is strong evidence that Hyperborea and the Fae Realm are somehow related. As for Unicornis Rex, it might be another construct. Where the other animals at the Fae Realm were numerous, there was only ever one Unicornis Rex. Just like there was only one Ur-dragon. I'd wager it was the only one of its kind."

Bellatrix crossed her arms. "I killed the only one of its kind? I feel rather guilty now. And… imagine how lonely it must have been. All those thousands of years, all by itself. No wonder it was so angry."

"Both the Ur-dragon and Unicornis Rex might have been created to serve as some sort of guardian," said Hermione. "To what end, I can merely guess. But I suppose both started out as normal magical creatures until they were… altered."

"Well shit," chuckled Bellatrix.

Eleanor chuckled. "Regardless, there is one less obstacle between us and the city. With its guardian fallen, our expedition's success is all but secured. We must make haste to the city at once, captain!"

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't know why Eleanor was so obsessed to get to the city at such a fast pace, but her attitude was really starting to annoy her. Why was she being so pushy?

"That…" started Kirk. "Will be a lot harder without our sanctum stone. It was destroyed along with the dragon. While the hull-plating can function on its own, we relied on the sanctum stone to actually give the ship the needed push for the hull-plating to actually do the ice-breaking. Without it, we'll be reliant on just the regular winds. Considering the time of year and the temperature of the air and water, we risk freezing stuck into the ice. We can try to keep the trenches open with fireballs, but that will only get us so far. In short, the Kingfisher can't move when there's no wind. If we can't move, we'll freeze. If we freeze, we'll be stuck in the ice until the summer months."

"And since the death of the Ur-dragon…" Chandra started to say.

"… the wind died almost completely," said Hermione.

Silence glances were exchanged among the members of the expedition, quiet dread hanging in the air.

With repairs to the ship done and the Kingfisher ready to get moving again, Hermione spend a lot of time cataloguing and documenting her findings. All samples had been tagged and magically preserved, her notes had been poured into a report filing on her laptop and as soon as the diving bell had been hoisted out of the water, she had claimed the pensive footage immediately. She'd been rather excitedly tapping away on her laptop, doing calculations on the number of spikes and the amount of orichalcum in the creature's body. All of this would make for an earth shattering research paper when she'd get back home and, no doubt, also a boon for Bellatrix' book. All in all, it had left her tired and ready for bed.

Her sense of timing was still off due to the perpetual light, even though dinner was long in her past by now, she had no idea how close to midnight it was until she saw a clock. Indeed, time to go to bed. But when she arrived on the crew deck and headed towards cabin two, she was met with an odd sight.

Dumb and Dumber were there. Though shorter than the enormous Sunniva, Svari and Gudrun still towered over her as they stood on either side of the door. In the corridor, stood there wedged between the door to her cabin and that of Kirk and the generally low ceiling, they looked uncomfortably out of place.

And yet, they were in her way, axes at the ready. These were Sunniva's trusted jomsvikingr. Both had toned physiques from lifelong training as warriors and bore the scars of their battles on their exposed skin. The brutish raven-haired Svari, though certainly not unattractive, still hadn't bothered to wear more than boots and her scale-mail bikini. Gudrun, red-haired and freckled, at least had the smarts to wear a pair of trousers, though her particular scale-mail bikini was even skimpier than Svari's. Both had silver torcs around their necks. Matching silver torcs.

Were… Dumb and Dumber stood vigil outside her cabin?

"Halt!" exclaimed the raven-haired Dumber, holding her axe in front of her to ward Hermione away from her own cabin.

Yes. Yes, they were.

Hermione sighed heavily. "Really?" she raised an eyebrow.

"The Mortal Valkyrie has not called for you!" the raven-haired viking woman glared her down. Hermione met her glare with an equally menacing glare of her own. "Be gone, harlot!"

"Uhm," said the red-haired Dumb. "Svari?"

"Gudrun?"

"It's the Mortal Valkyrie's bondmate. Surely we can let her in."

Hermione crossed her arms, adding a smug grin to her glare.

"Gudrun!" spoke Dumber with the tone of an offended teenager having just been chastised by her mother. "We are sworn to protect…"

"… Svari, the Mortal Valkyrie took down Níðhöggr on her own. Surely this woman is not a threat to her safety."

Dumber seemed to contemplate that. "Alright," said the raven-haired bint. "You may go inside to give pleasure to the Mortal Valkyrie. But next time wait until she calls for you."

Hermione blinked. "I'm her girlfriend! Her fiancee! Her wife in a few month if this frozen Arctic hellscape doesn't bloody kill us before the we get that chance! I am not a harlot nor her lovetoy! you crass barbarian! Learn the difference! And for the love of god, put on some bloody clothes while you're at it!"

Dumber looked at if she was about to take a swing at her, until red-haired Dumb reached out and grabbed the handle. "Svari…"

"Alright, alright, fine!" Dumber finally relented. "You can go inside, but if we hear shouting we'll be inside to remove you!"

"Svari…" said Dumb, obviously the brains of the operation, though not by much. When Hermione entered her cabin and slammed the door shut behind her, she let out a frustrated groan. Zipper poked his head out of the cat carrier and swiftly teleported right into her arms. Bellatrix was lain on the bed, her back pressed against a pillow, while eagerly scribbling away in one of her notebooks. Hermione waited for her to finish her sentence, after which Bellatrix blew over the ink and put away her writing gear.

"Ah, there you are, Hermie," said Bellatrix, a broad grin on her face. Bellatrix herself looked to be ready for bed, clad in a nightshirt and wearing grey woollen socks. "I have an honour guard now! How fab is that?!"

"I noticed," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Quite… fab… yes, that's the right word. Just fab and dandy."

Hermione released Zipper, leaving him to fly back to his make-shift hutch while Hermione herself started to disrobe. After a long day, it was quite nice to step into the shower for a bit before diving into bed. After folding her clothes and wearing nothing but a shower cap to keep her hair dry, Hermione turned on the shower. By now she had gotten used to the piddle of water coming out of the shower head, as well as having to turn around her axis like a rotisserie chicken to actually wet her entire body. God, if there was one thing she missed, it was the proper showers back at Catterborough Woodhouse. Proper showers, with streams so warm and powerful it could outdo a high-pressure sprayer. A veritable rain-shower of warm water pouring down upon her… and preferable Trix too at the same time… But beggars couldn't be choosers and she supposed she should be happy with having a shower at all on board this ship. Sailors of old during the 18th and 19th century had been literally hosed down in groups by the ship's bilge pump.

Not exactly a nice prospect.

After drying herself off, she turned around towards the bed to see Bellatrix watching her, a big grin on her face and having her arms folded against the back of her head.

"What?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Just enjoying the show," winked Bellatrix.

"The cheek of it all!" Hermione made a face, only to follow it up with a wink.

Hermione took off the shower cap. The cabin's warmth stone did its job quite adequately, but being somewhat damp and naked made Hermione rush to the bed. Especially when Bellatrix rather welcomely opened up the duvet for her. A space in nice warm soft bed right next to a nice warm soft girlfriend was just a perfect way to end a long and tiring day.

It didn't take long for Hermione to curl up against Bellatrix, who was still holding her notebook. "Say," said Bellatrix just as Hermione tiredly lay her head on her shoulder and suppressed a yawn. "Now that I have this honour-guard, we should them effectively. How about ask them to come in here? I'm sure they'd be honoured."

By now Hermione was simply too tired to rise to the rather obvious bait. Even though her eyes were closed, she could just hear Trix' smirk. Well, she wouldn't indulge her today.

"Too tired for this nonsense," muttered Hermione.

"You do realize those two are dead sapphic, right?" Bellatrix chuckled. "Swear down, those matching silver torcs are basically wedding rings."

"All the more reason not to bother them," Hermione yawned.

"Come on," Bellatrix laughed, gently pressing Hermione closer against her. "At least Gudrun is cute, right? And it'd be the perfect way for you to make nice with Svari."

"Are you serious? How is sleeping with someone's wife a way to 'make nice' with someone?! Regardless, I don't want Dumb and Dumber in our bed with us," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "And neither do you."

Bellatrix let out a sigh. "Well, someone's seen their arse, 'aven't they?" she said. "Fine, fine. How about I just read you something, right? I just finished my latest chapter."

"That would be nice," yawned Hermione, the two of them getting comfortable as Bellatrix started to read.

"I must admit I quite impressed by Celeste," started Bellatrix, once again getting into the role of the nameless Death Eater fugitive. "For the past few months, she has been my stalwart companion. To my surprise, she has adjusted well to life at this cursed manor. Adhering to the rules, taking no risks and treating its dangers with the respect it deserves, she has proved to be as much as a survivor as I am. She has not once been tempted by the upstairs bathroom and the footsteps of the creature in the attic no longer concern her.

With her habit now dealt with, she seems fitter, healthier and, I daresay, far more cheerful. Though the library is relatively small, it has enough room for two cots and a cupboard for whatever little possessions she has.

With the curses all around her, the revelation of a whole magical world hidden in plain sight as well as telling her about my magical abilities were merely a small leap to which she has taken well. I care little for the rules of our world considering my situation. In turn, she tells me little of her own past. I surmise her life before was particularly dismal if she prefers staying at this life-threatening manor and its iron-clad unforgiving rules.

Still, I must admit the symbiosis we have achieved is very much mutually beneficial. I am not well versed in the muggle-world, but she is. I grew up with wealth, she in poverty. As such, she knows all kinds of ways to stretch money and food, both precious resources to both of us, in far greater measure than I was ever able to. And… though I have to be careful using magic to avoid being found, I can use cantrips to help in that regard.

For example, Celeste has made a deal with Carol from the pub to wash their linens. Except that there is very little washing to be done. Celeste picks up the linens, piles them up in the library, I scourgify them, magically fold them and she brings them back to Carol the next day. Good money for little effort, as Celeste says. She is quite a clever muggle.

As it is still winter, the manor is rather cold and the fireplace at the library is constantly roaring. Though the bay windows, we can see the yard beyond covered in a blanket of snow as the setting sun bathes it in a comforting glow. Soon the monsters in the corridor will emerge. I must admit my concern is growing as Celeste has still not made it back from the chippy's. But, of course, I needn't have worried. The moment I hear the front door open and shut below, I know she has made it back with time to spare. Her heels click on the tiles as she makes her way to the library. I smile as I let her in, closing the heavy door behind her and proceeding to lock up the library for the night.

We dine on fish and chips at a small table at one of the bay windows as the sun sets over the snow-covered hills outside. A very affordable apparent staple of British cuisine at a very atmospheric location.

I steal a few glances at Celeste. I don't know why she insists on painting her hair blonde or using so much make-up. She has nobody to impress here. The low-cut top is hardly appropriate for this cold either. I suggest we should find her some warmed clothes and she gives me this exasperated look again just before she pops some fish in her mouth. She seems a bit annoyed, but I am not sure why.

It is then that we are both surprised by a strange noise coming from outside. Never being complacent in this manor is a reason we have both survived; though the manor will never change a rule, it does sometimes confront us with new ones. Celeste has taken it upon herself to document any rules, but neither of us are familiar with a rule that involves muffled inhuman screams of sheer terror.

The moment we look outside, we see two people. A man and a woman, both middle-aged, are clad in walking gear and snow-boots. Celeste points out in horror that they emerged from the hedge-maze.

Immediately, I realize what has happened. These two muggles, undoubtedly enjoying a winter-hike, were attempting pass through the manor grounds in order to shave off some time to get back to the pub before dark. This manor seems abandoned and British walkers are quite brazen. These not locals; their gear looks too expensive for that and any local would know better than to set foot on manor grounds, especially in the evening. The hedge-maze itself does strange things to time, as is evidence by these two people stood there frozen.

No, not frozen. People frozen in time do not make noise that like. They are moving. Just very, very slowly. Their cry of terror elongated. It is a strange, alien sound. Deeply unsettling.

Celeste yells out that we should go and help them. I grab her arm as she attempts to rush to the door. I remind her we've already locked up for the night and the monsters in the corridor will be out in force soon. We will never get to them in time and even then, there is nothing we could do. I remind Celeste that those two walkers have sealed their own fates. For a moment, her eyes flare with anger, until quiet resignation follows.

She is a survivor. Like me. In her heart she knows there is nothing but to brace for the inevitable.

The monsters emerge from the corridor just as the sun sinks below the horizon and we can hear them outside the door. Usually, they congregate in front of the heavy door for the first few hours of the evening, knowing we are in here. But, not today. Today, they howl with excitement. Today, they run through the manor. Today, they throw open the front door and rush into the yard.

The screams, already alien and distressing, change in pitch and tone just as they mix with the sound of flesh being torn and slashed. I will not lie, it is upsetting. I have caused death and pain in my previous life, but not to this degree. It is more upsetting to Celeste. Tears steam across her face, smudging her make-up. Her body trembles, her hands shake and she wraps her arms around him in a desperate attempt to find distraction from the horrific sounds outside.

We do not go near the bay window. We both know better than to actually witness the undoubtedly madness inducing carnage done by creatures not of this Earth. Instead, we move further into the library, near the fireplace. Celeste continues to cry and I know there is nothing to do except endure. Made worse by the unsettling discovery than these creatures enjoying playing with their food. The walkers will die an uneasy death.

I kiss Celeste.

I do not know why.

Celeste kisses me back. Perhaps she will do anything to drown out the horrors from outside.

I lay her down in front of the fireplace.

We make love to a chorus of distorted screams from people being eaten alive just mere meters away from us.

And when the screams finally stop, we lay together in silence at the side of a now dying fire. I run my fingers through her hair as we merely stare into each other's eyes. The warmth of her body. The intensity of her eyes.

I chuckle. She cocks her head and asks me why. I tell her my former dark lord would lose his proverbial shit if he were to see one of his followers naked in the arms of a muggle ex-prostitute with dyed blonde hair and fake breasts.

She swats me against the arm and tells me her fake breasts look very nice.

I chuckle.

Despite the horrors we have just endured, the manor seems a little less cursed today."

"And that's it," said Bellatrix. "Chapter 6. I think one more after this one. So what do you think, Hermie? Hermie?"

The answer came in the form of rhythmic breathing and a slight feminine snore. Hermione, having had a day full excitement with her tissue samples and no doubt already working on a paper on the Ur-dragon, had simply reached her limits. The brown-haired girl looked so peaceful while sleeping. Bellatrix mused that Hermione had suffered far fewer nightmares as of late and hoped that today would be another quiet night for her.

Bellatrix quietly and stealthily put away her notebook and gently lowered herself onto the mattress from her propped up position, being careful not to disturb the sleeping girl. With her mission accomplished and with Hermione still peacefully asleep, Bellatrix snapped her fingers, commanding the magic within her to shift the curtains in front of the portholes. Though this darkened their cabin considerably, the perpetual daylight was not easily thwarted. It would have to do, however.

Bellatrix reached over to gently stroke brown hair and carefully leaned in to kiss soft lips. She'd been impressed with Hermione today, inspired even. Hermione had been in her element. Smart and clever, she had discovered so many of the Ur-dragon's secrets within minutes. And the way she had stood up to Svari to defend her own beliefs? Her vicious self-assuredness? The strength of her convictions?

Dead sexy. Her Hermione had been dead sexy and well good.

And for once, Bellatrix hadn't been at the receiving end of Hermione's intensities.