XIX
—
Hermione couldn't help the scream that tore from her throat when they landed wherever it was Draco had Apparated them to. She collapsed to the ground in agony. Everything was burning.
Beyond her sobs, she was vaguely aware of someone else yelling, and eventually she was lifted from the ground, the air biting against her and igniting the flames on her skin yet again as another screamed ripped from her.
For what felt like an eternity, all Hermion knew was pain. The blistering of the wind shifted into the fire of being laid on some surface, moving the agony from one spot to the next. She held as still as possible, but there was no escaping the flames. They consumed her.
Her eyes were squeezed shut as she whimpered, hearing shouts from several different sources, but her brain was too preoccupied to discern what they were saying. The voices got louder, and then she felt a numbing spell wash over her. The relief that flooded her was enough to make her gasp. Then she felt the familiar darkening of a sleeping spell, and she let herself fall backwards into oblivion.
—
When Hermione awakened, the first thing her mind registered was an oppressive need for water. Peeling her eyes open, she was relieved to spot a glass on the table beside her, and she sat up to reach for it. When she stretched her arm out, however, she noticed the wrappings winding from her fingers to her shoulder, and realized her other arm was identical. Not only were her arms wrapped, but her torso, back, legs, and even some places on her face had dressings on them. She gingerly reached for the water, piecing together what must have happened as she drank.
It had to have been some sort of bomb. Draco Apparated them just as it went off, so they weren't killed, but they still got a bit of the blast. Hermione paled when she considered just how close to dying they'd come.
Now more alert, she looked around, noticing that she was in her quarters back at the manor. Someone must have broken her room's wards long enough to settle her in there, but she could feel that they'd been returned. Crookshanks snoozed at her feet, and her heart warmed at the sight of her familiar. Just as she was about to climb out of bed, Trilly appeared with a low bow.
"Mistress Granger! It is bein' so good to see you awake at last! Trilly is ordered to fetch the Healer when you is awakenin', is there anything else Trilly may do for the young Mistress?"
"Another glass of water would be lovely, thank you."
The House Elf bowed again before grabbing the empty cup and disappearing, returning almost immediately with more water. Then she was gone again. A few minutes later there was a knock on the bedroom door.
Her wand was on her nightstand, so Hermione grabbed the length of Vine and took a moment to alter her wards, then flicked the door open.
A woman in a long white coat strode in, a briefcase in her hand. She gave a respectful dip of the head before approaching the young witch.
"Good morning, my name is Cassandra Bolton. How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" the Healer asked, setting her briefcase on the edge of the bed and opening it.
"Quite well. Nothing hurts, I'm just a bit exhausted."
Cassandra unwrapped some of the dressings on Hermione's arm, examining the skin before wiping it with a square of gauze soaked in some solution. The raw, pink look to the flesh faded into normal skin tone, and the Healer nodded in satisfaction.
"You heal very well," she said, reaching into her case. She retrieved a bottle of clear liquid and handed it to the young witch. "You may remove the wrappings and swab the tender skin with this. It will complete the repair process and you'll be fully recovered."
Miss Bolton snapped her case closed as Hermione took the bottle she was given.
"How bad was it?" The girl asked, morbidly curious. It had felt like pure hell until she'd been sent unconscious, but she hadn't actually seen the extent of the damage. The Healer paused before exiting the room.
"You and your intended had second degree burns over much of your bodies, but that was the extent of your injuries, and obviously, it was easily treated. Still, either you are both incredibly lucky, or you are blessed."
With that, the woman left, her long coat billowing behind her.
Hermione stretched some, then set her feet on the carpet and padded over to the bathroom, beginning to unwind some of the bandages on her arms as she walked.
As she pulled the long strips of cloth from her legs and torso, she cringed at the amount of pink skin that she saw. It stung mildly, like a sunburn, but once she wiped a layer of the clear solution over it, it became healthy, unmarred flesh. Proceeding to swab the remainder of her injuries, the girl soon was back to normal, not a scar in sight.
She showered, only then realizing that her hair was brittle and several inches shorter in many places. Sighing, Hermione absently wondered if Delilah might know of any spells that would regrow it, her mind wandering from place to place as the warm water soaked into her new skin. Truthfully, she was tired enough to nearly fall asleep standing there, but she couldn't go back to bed. Another desire, one that felt more disturbingly like a desperate need, overpowered her craving for her pillow.
After stepping into a navy blue dress, she sat down at her vanity, flipping through a little book of glamour spells and calling for Migo to retrieve Delilah. There was a knock only moments later, and Hermione waved the door open with her wand. Footsteps slowly approached, and the girl looked up from the book, catching Delilah's curious gaze in the mirror.
"You look a thousand times better than the last time I saw you," Delilah said, trying to keep her tone light but not quite hitting the mark. Hermione shrugged.
"I'm fine, now. Besides my hair, that is. Would you happen to-"
"I can fix it."
The silence that filled the room was heavy and awkward, as the Burke witch strode forward and picked up a hair brush. She opened a little case filled with potions Hermione hadn't dared to try, then plucked a vial from therein, tipping a few drops onto the brush before working it through her companion's curls. After a few more moments of quiet, she cleared her throat.
"I guess it might be worth stating that I'm relieved you aren't dead. When they brought you inside, I genuinely thought you were beyond hope."
A sarcastic bark of a laugh escaped Hermione before she could stop it.
"I'm certain it was a sight."
"You were screaming, Draco was screaming, Misses Malfoy was sobbing, Master Malfoy was yelling. The Healers started shouting when they arrived. It was all… shocking," the girl said, her face blanching slightly. "I've been rather sheltered, I'll admit, and I've never seen such terrible injuries. I nearly vomited."
The other witch swallowed, knowing it couldn't have been pleasant to witness. She said nothing, just watched as her comrade continued to gently rake through her hair, noticing that the curls extended a few centimeters with every pull.
Both girls got caught up in their thoughts. Eventually, Delilah blinked a few times and cleared her throat, standing a little straighter and setting the brush back down on the dressing table.
"It's a bit long, I suppose, but I tried to focus on the parts that were singed. You can't tell anymore, it just looks textured."
Hermione turned her head from side to side and ran a hand through her locks, which now fell just past her ribs. All the burnt ends seemed to have mended and faded in with the rest of her curls. She gave Delilah a tiny smile.
"Thanks. I wouldn't have known the first thing to do."
"Well that, Miss Granger, is a problem of the most severe sort. After all, you're a future Lady of House Malfoy; you must look your loveliest at all times," the witch teased, then softened the tiniest bit. "I do happen to know a bit about Glamouring, if you ever need advice."
Pulling the front part of her hair back as she usually did, Hermione stood to set out, but her stomach suddenly rumbled loudly. She furrowed her brows.
"How long was I asleep?"
When her companion informed her that she'd been unconscious for over two days, she glanced out the window at the rainstorm, the drops falling in a steady shower and thunder rumbling every now and then. Delilah noticed her gaze and pursed her lips.
"You should have seen it when he heard what happened, it was almost as bad as the night his Death Eaters were ambushed. I think he's getting sick of the New Order's games."
Hermione gave a bitter chuckle. "So am I."
Her stomach growled again, so she called Ditzy and asked for a light meal, sitting back down at her desk. Though she knew she had to have been given nutrition potions, they weren't the same as real food, so she ate slowly, staring out at the rain as it continued to pour.
—
Draco glared out the glass wall of his study, watching as a lighting bolt streaked across the sky. Thunder followed it a few seconds later, and he clenched his jaw, the low vibrations sending a panic signal through him. He took a few deep breaths as someone knocked on his door, and he waved a hand to let them in.
When he turned, his heart stuttered, not expecting to see her. He was rooted to the spot as they just stared at each other for a moment, then Hermione quickly crossed the room, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly. He pulled her close and exhaled shakily, relief washing through him. Neither of them noticed Delilah close the door to the study, giving the pair a few moments alone.
Hermione felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as the two of them embraced one another. He was safe and she was safe. Somehow, that was the only thing that mattered for a moment.
She looked up at him, raising a hand to caress his cheek as her eyes moved over his features. There was no pink skin, no burn marks, not a thing to indicate the trauma they'd experienced. His hands cradled her face as he studied her as well, his gaze taught with concern.
"Are you alright? You've been asleep for days, I couldn't-"
"I'm fine, Draco. We're both fine."
Silence followed her declaration, as Draco closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. Hermione stood on her toes and softly kissed his cheek, her arms encircling his neck as his wound around her midsection.
They held each other for several minutes, taking comfort in simply being near one another. Hermione knew that she should be appalled to find peace in his presence, but she realized she didn't care anymore. If Draco Malfoy made her feel at home in a world where she no longer had one, then stars be damned, she would cling to him with all the strength she possessed.
Eventually, the couple separated, but Hermione entwined the fingers of her left hand with his, not ready to lose contact with him just yet. Glimpsing the photographs scattered over his desk, she went to look, tugging him gently along. One of them was carefully set aside from the rest, and her breath caught when she recognized who it was.
It was the man they'd passed in Celesti Alley moments before the explosion. The smug expression he'd given her and her intended, just before he'd ignited a bomb meant to kill them, would be forever ingrained in her memory, Hermione knew. It made her sick.
"Who is he?" She whispered darkly.
"His name is Arnold Caswell," Draco growled. "He worked in the Improper Use of Magic Office until about a year ago, when he disappeared. We've got a team out looking for him, he might be able to give us information on The New Order."
"It was them that sent him, then," the witch murmured, and her intended nodded, shuffling a few papers about on his desk and producing the previous day's copy of The Daily Prophet. Hermione's jaw dropped when she saw the headline.
TERROR IN CELESTI ALLEY!
Seven dead, many more injured in attempted assassination of the Wizarding World's most adored duo!
Below the headline, the nature of the attack was detailed, as well as speculation on the state of the targeted pair, since nothing had been found to indicate whether or not they had survived.
What was found, was a seemingly fireproof parchment bearing the symbol of The New Order, which leads us to conclude they are the party responsible for this heinous attack on not only the beautiful young couple, but the witches and wizards of the United Kingdom as a whole.
There was a picture beside the article showing an unmarred piece of parchment amidst embers and smoke, the apparent emblem of The New Order printed on the paper. Hermione swallowed as she took in the image of a phoenix biting the head off of a serpent clutched in its talons.
"I wonder when they came up with that," she muttered bitterly, then spotted that day's edition of the newsletter. Her heart fell when she read the opener.
ELEVEN CONFIRMED DECEASED AFTER ATTACK IN CELESTI ALLEY
Four succumb to injuries while six remain at St. Mungo's in uncertain condition
Another roll of thunder rumbled lowly across the sky, as if mourning the eleven witches and wizards who had lost their lives, and the hollowness in Hermione's chest grew a little bit more. She was just so incredibly tired of people around her dying. And that was what it felt like. Exhaustion. It didn't even hurt anymore, it just added to the weight of her existence, dragging her down and making her heart beat just a touch slower, until one day she was certain she would lose somebody else and it would simply falter to a stop.
The witch glanced up at her intended, who was staring at the paper with a faraway look in his eyes. He was just as weary as she was.
"Draco," she whispered, turning back to stare out the tall windows at the rain. She curled into his side and rested her head on his shoulder, then gave an empty chuckle. "We should go to Tuscany for a couple of weeks. Not just a day."
His free hand came up and began to run over her now-lengthy curls, while the other brought her knuckles to his lips.
"Agreed."
As they stood in silence, the sky poured ever down, as though it could wash away the sins of the people beneath it if only it wept hard enough.
—
AN: I hope this chapter didn't disappoint! This story hit 200 followers this morning, and I mean it when I say I nearly cried. When I began this, I never thought that 1) It would spiral so far beyond what I had originally planned, and 2) that it would ever get anything close to the following it has. I am so grateful to each and every one of you for your kind words and your enthusiasm for this story! I hope that you continue to enjoy it and that reading it brings you as much excitement as it's been bringing me to write it!
Peace and Blessings, Juliet