Eight
Fornax
Midnight alarms startle Hermione awake.
She is halfway out of bed when the doors to her chambers rattle then burst open. Led by Harry and Wood, palace guards pour into the room. Suited for battle and wands drawn, their eyes are focused on the ceiling as they search everything.
"What is the meaning of this?" she asks.
Concern etches her brother's features as he rushes to her. "There was a Dementor attack."
"Winky!" The elf appears with a cloak for Hermione. "Thank you so much."
"Queen is kind."
She turns to her brother. "Dementors do not attack unprovoked."
"All clear," a guard calls from the adjoining room.
Harry gestures for them to leave. When they're alone, he scrubs a hand over his face. "This one went rogue. We trapped it behind wards, but I was sent by the king to make certain you were unharmed. Guards are searching the castle and Healers have been summoned to assist the victims."
"Who?" Hermione steps into leather slippers.
"It came to me first, but did not expect to find me awake. Ginny is fine, with mother and father who are also unharmed. It fled and attacked Sirius. He changed into his Animagus form and slipped past to sound the alarm. Unfortunately, it also attacked Lady Lavender. She remains unwell."
"Bring me to her."
"The king—"
"Lavender is my Lady."
Harry relents, leading the way through the corridors to Lavender's chambers where they find her shaking and sweating in the corner, knees drawn to her chest as she rocks back and forth. There is a Healer at her side insisting she eat a piece of chocolate she only seems capable of clutching.
"Summon Lady Romilda and Lady Leanne," Hermione tells another guard who carries out her request without question.
"Why?" Harry asks.
"She needs those closest to her." Hermione finds a blanket, warms it with a whispered charm, and drapes it over Lavender's shoulders. "All of you, stop staring and give her space."
When Romilda and Leanne arrive, they take over, hugging her close and feeding her chocolate.
"Stay with her," Hermione orders. "You all are excused until she recovers."
"Of course, Your Majesty." Lady Romilda stands.
Then Leanne does, too, and they bow low in unison.
Hermione turns to find Draco in the threshold, eyes narrowing upon seeing her. They cut to Harry as he walks over to them. "I told you to—"
"I ordered him to bring me here to see after my Lady." Hermione steps forward. "Is that a problem?"
Before Draco can respond, Pansy enters with Daphne. Theo follows close behind and Astoria enters shortly thereafter. Her presence sours Hermione's already tense mood.
"The other Ladies are unharmed," Pansy informs.
"That is a relief." Hermione exhales.
"Flint is interrogating the Dementor with Snape and Weasley," Theo says.
"Go observe," Draco orders. "Do not be seen."
With a nod, Theo disillusions himself and the fading sound of his shoes on the stone is all they hear.
"Why them?" Astoria stands next to Draco; their proximity makes Hermione frown. "Why were they attacked? What links Harry, Sirius, and Lavender?"
"Perhaps there is no link at all." At least, Hermione cannot think of one. "A link exists between two, but not three."
Draco considers her. "We will discuss in Council after the interrogation is complete. Potter, escort the queen back to her chambers and see to it that guards remain outside her doors."
More than anything, Hermione hates being dismissed. "I was hoping to take part in the discussion. I have thoughts."
"What do you know of Dementors?" Astoria asks.
The snide tone is familiar, and Hermione bristles.
"Quite a bit, actually. I know they are born when there is misery and pain in the air. Conditions in this realm, in this kingdom, within these walls—are ripe for their formation, as well as their control. Dementors are not loyal. They can turn if given a better opportunity to feed."
"How could any human approach a Dementor and ask for its loyalty?" Astoria scoffs.
"Same way Flint is able to interrogate one. With words." It is hard, but Hermione stomps down her irritation. "Someone who feels less fear, less despair, less of the frigid cold could convince them to give their allegiance. Its master is someone who knows and understands death, someone who is unafraid—"
"It is late, Your Majesty." Astoria's kindness is condescending at best. "Do you not agree, Sire?"
Draco nods. "It is."
Hermione is so incensed that she does not wait for Harry.
She sees herself out.
Hermione's Ladies surround her before she can abscond to the king's reading room.
"Shall we search for Nargles?" Lady Luna is the oddest but kindest person she's ever met. She can also disillusion herself at will, and does it when she does not wish to be noticed while sneaking about the castle grounds. "Perhaps they will tell us what disturbs the fairies."
Her suggestion is met with rolled eyes.
"How very dull. No one wants to hunt for creatures that do not exist." A recovered Lady Lavender scoffs, much to the amusement of Lady Leanne and Romilda. Despite her attack, she remains one of the most vivacious of her Ladies. "We should visit the knights during their duelling sessions."
Girlish giggles even erupt from Demelza, the youngest of her Ladies.
"I can think of better things to do." Lady Alicia continues reading her book. She and Daphne are the best of friends. Though they used to be enemies, they bonded through years as Queen Millicent's Ladies.
"I agree." Marietta puts down her embroidery. "But we should do something."
"It is nice outside, we should walk through the gardens." Cho is soft-spoken and kind. Interested in more intellectual pursuits, Hermione is inclined to like her for this alone.
"Your Majesty." Alicia turns to her. "What is it that you wish to do this afternoon?"
The doors open and her Ladies rise when two guards step aside, revealing the king. As one, they curtsy low while Hermione stands and does the same. Then she looks at him. This is the first she has seen Draco since breakfast. He was dressed more casually, but he has now changed into riding gear.
Hermione notices some of her Ladies eye him. Draco catches her frown and tilts his head in question.
"Your Majesty, I was not expecting you."
"I wish to show you something." Grey eyes slide from hers. "If you are not otherwise engaged."
Hermione turns. "You all are free—"
"For the rest of the afternoon," he finishes.
She gives him a strange look. They have entered the second month of marriage and this is the first substantial time they will spend together. Hermione does not know if her cold shoulder after the Dementor attack three days ago has prompted this, but she is curious when they take their leave together.
Outside, Draco dismisses the guards. Now alone, they walk in a different direction around the side of the castle. The moment she thinks they are going to the beach below, Draco takes her hand and leads her towards the trees.
Hermione looks down, then at the impassive face of her husband.
His expression is hard but his touch is not.
"Where are you taking me?"
"To fulfil one of your terms. It is quite overdue."
Scrambling to figure out which keeps her silent as they approach a line of trees that appears to form a border. Each day, her aggravation with him builds. She cannot imagine it growing any larger than it already is, but stewing so long without voicing her feelings is new.
The pressure rises.
Clouds her mind.
Makes her brittle with disdain.
Draco is strange. He appears alone but offers his confidence to some and scraps to her. He lurks in the background, sending those he trusts her way to assist, but does not offer himself.
Both hot and cold, Hermione cannot form a good opinion considering the wall he has built to shut her out.
Hermione wants to scale it out of stubbornness.
Or knock it down out of spite.
She is not sure which.
But first she tests its strength.
"Thank you for offering your reading room and Percy to assist with my dowry."
Draco says nothing at first, hand still firmly in hers. "Have you decided?"
"Not yet." Then she takes a brave step up his wall. "You have not sought me out since our wedding night. Will you invite me to your chambers tonight?"
"No."
The fall is quick and the landing stings more than she anticipates.
Embarrassed, Hermione tries to extract her hand, but his grip tightens.
"I do not intend to sire children."
"Ever?" Hermione recoils. "You must know this puts me at risk in a Court where I am surrounded by more predators than allies."
"No, not ever." Draco casts a look at her. "But not now. I would rather not bring a child into a volatile world." His mouth lowers into a grimace. "Do not tell me you wish to be with child."
"I am cognizant of the expectation and the security your heir provides me."
"It is not like you enjoyed our wedding night."
His words cut like a knife and she bears the wound. "Given the spectators and the pain, no, but neither did you. We have been married for over two months, what does it matter that neither of us enjoyed that experience?" Hermione ignores the way Draco looks at her now. "War might be your answer for expansion, but to secure your throne, you need an heir. A clear line of succession."
"I am well aware."
"Then you know that without one you are vulnerable, as am I, as is your entire kingdom. The rule of succession is clear. War—both civil and against other kingdoms—will break out if something happens to you."
"Then I suppose I will have to live."
Hermione scoffs at his arrogance. "Says the king whose wives tried to have him killed in one way or another. It is not wise to wait."
"Tell me this when we bury a murdered child or worse—when I bury you." Draco steps closer, face darkening. Trapped by their joined hands, she cannot look anywhere but at him, confused by the burst of emotion. "I will not risk either with enemies all around."
Her stomach clenches at the truth in his words. "Is that why you keep me under lock and key? Protection?"
Draco's silence is his answer. They keep walking.
Frustration builds, as it always does around him. "I know you promised my brother, but I can protect myself."
"Not from everything."
"Then tell me so that I might know what I face."
"Anything I say now will be for naught. You have to trust me."
"You cannot be serious," Hermione argues. "You want me to blindly give my trust to someone who does not offer me the same in kind."
"Yes."
Not for the first time, Hermione fights the urge to scream her objections, but they have reached the row of trees.
Their destination.
The argument dies. For now.
Taller up close, the trees are charged with a sense of surreality. The bark is nearly black while the leaves are unnaturally green with triangular leaves Hermione does not recognise. "I have studied nature and this is nothing I have ever seen."
"Because it is not real. It is a ward." Draco touches what looks like an empty space between two, close-stranding trunks.
A ripple of magic makes Hermione's hair stand on end.
A box appears.
"This is a Vanishing Closet." Draco opens the heavy door. "I repaired it when Kaida desired her own place beyond the castle. I thought it best I hide it behind wards instead of anyone happening upon it inside the palace."
Excitement floods her. Hermione has never seen a Vanishing Closet in person; she has only read about them. "It can transport you to another place entirely. How did you fix it?"
He does not answer. Nor does he release her hand as he steps into the closet. He draws her inside and, though she feels no different—there is no hint of magic or movement—when he opens the door again, they are no longer where they started.
They are in the middle of the forest.
Stunned and confused, Hermione turns around to see the same row of trees. "How did we—"
"No one knows this place exists except me."
And now her.
"Where is the palace?"
"Several miles north through the forest."
This is an even better hiding place than the reading room.
Hermione follows him into the thick forest through the floor full of vegetation. The animals are scarce and the plants have grown large. She looks up. There are openings in the trees that allow her to see the sky. When they reach a particularly thick patch of vines that blocks their path, Draco pulls out his wand and parts them with a silent spell, gesturing for her to enter first. Hermione does so but stumbles when she sees where they are.
A clearing with a crystal clear lake and a waterfall surrounded by black sand.
It looks like paradise.
Beside the water is a dragon.
Kaida.
Hermione is rooted to the spot, especially when the dragon's head turns upon their arrival.
"You can go back."
This is what she has wanted since the day in the meadow. Stubbornness keeps her there.
"No."
Approaching at her own pace while Draco walks ahead, Hermione takes in the sight before her. He is not a small man by any means, but next to Kaida, she wonders how the beast does not have the urge to crush him. It is in its nature after all.
Flaming red eyes sit buried within the creature's long, scaled skull, which gives her a menacing appearance. Instinct tells Hermione to warn Draco of the danger, but she reminds herself that familiars cannot harm one another. Hermione studies its reptilian scales and claws with spiny nails seemingly made of onyx, then its large body and tail that ends in a scythe-like blade.
She has never seen a beast so terrifyingly beautiful.
"Are you finished lazing about in the sun?" Draco's playful question is chiding in a familiar way as if this is their normal rapport. He pets her snout. "You have a guest, one you wanted to meet so badly, so be nice this time."
This time?
The force behind the dragon's huff makes Draco stumble but he does not fall. Covering her laugh with her hands as an unimpressed Kaida turns away from him, Hermione cannot help her amusement while the king is ignored. Like a common pest. An irritant the dragon can swat away with ease.
"Stubborn, bloody chicken," he grouches as he goes to the other side. "Kai—"
A wing flares.
Draco ducks to avoid being knocked over, but instead of being angry, he smiles, showing a slight crease in his cheek. It is genuine and makes her stomach flutter as if full of butterflies. Like the night in the field, Draco looks human in a way that—despite her irritation with him—makes her crave more of these moments.
If only to know him better.
But then something dawns on Hermione.
The dragon understands him.
"Does she talk?"
"What?" Draco looks as if she has gone mad. "Dragons do not talk."
Hermione rests her hands on her hips. "Says the man talking to a dragon."
A wheezing, high-pitched sound escapes Kaida. It reminds her of laughter.
"She is not funny." Draco glares daggers at his familiar then at Hermione. "Being bound allows us to understand each other. I was taught to speak the language of dragons, but she prefers when I speak aloud in my natural tongue." He extends his hand. "Come closer. The sun makes it impossible for Kaida to see you from where you stand now."
Hermione slowly approaches.
The closer she gets, the more the dragon begins to note her presence. Her large head turns back towards Hermione and she inhales deeply, as if catching her scent. When Hermione stops at Draco's side, his hand returns to her.
If they are communicating, they do not pass one look at her.
But she cannot help herself from pushing for more.
Hand extended, Hermione takes a step towards Kaida, who watches her keenly.
"She likes to keep secrets." Grey eyes darken with suspicion he turns on her. "Like that she knows you."
Hermione looks between dragon and man. Kaida dips her head in what feels like reverence, but under Draco's scrutiny she is torn between moving away or closer. Another silent exchange between the bonded pair vanishes the tension. His hand returns, not to hers but to her back, steering her closer to Kaida whose gaze has not wavered. She hesitates twice before resting a hand on her jaw, in tune to the dragon's soft exhale.
Kaida's reptilian skin is cool and does not speak of the heat within.
She is fascinated. Entranced. Honoured.
"I-I found you both by the river's edge on the afternoon of the welcome feast." Hermione casts a look at Draco who appears surprised. "You both were injured by arrows laced with poison." She steps back when the dragon sits up on her hind legs, weathered wings flaring as if stretching. Spotting the arrow's tear takes no effort. It is larger than the others and has not healed. "I healed you and removed the arrows from Kaida's wings. She was awake, watching me, making certain I did not harm you. She flew away with you the moment she could."
"We were hit while flying," Draco confesses. "They had to have shot us from the ground within the forest behind the field we were in. When I woke, I sent men out to canvas the area where I thought we were shot, as well as where we landed. They found nothing in the forest, but the arrows."
Hermione touches the small tear in the dragon's wing. "Why have you not healed the tears?"
"I cannot. Dragonhide is impenetrable."
"Except for arrows?"
"Not normal arrows. The ones we were hit with were special. I executed the man found with them as they are illegal. They can pierce a dragon's skin. The only person I know who tested nature like this died at sea."
"Who?"
"My aunt, Queen Bellatrix of the now defunct Lestrange Kingdom. She tortured people with unforgivable magic and hunted beasts and beings for sport. Whenever she visited, under the guise of protection, she would test out ways to hurt Kaida." Draco pauses for an uncomfortable moment, touching a patch of scales that appears lighter than the rest. "My grandfather and then my father wanted Kaida to be a weapon—we have not had a dragon familiar in three generations. I was not old enough to defend her or myself."
Kaida offers a low rumble and a nudge to assuage his guilt.
Hermione is horrified for what they both endured. "She was a Voldemort ally, right?"
"Yes, but not because she believed in the world he wanted to create. She just craved the violence it would take to achieve his means."
A true sadist.
A shudder passes through Hermione as she touches the tear once more.
Herbs and magic can heal her wing tears, but it will take time.
They both step back when Kaida takes flight, but she does not go far. The dragon dives beneath the surface of the water, and quickly resurfaces with a giant koi between her jaws. She devours it before diving for another.
"We owe you a life debt. Magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable—did you know you were saving the life of a king that day?"
"I did not."
He glances at her. "Do you regret it?"
"I wish I could." A whirlwind of complicated emotions rise. "But I do not."
There is a sensation Hermione feels at the strangest of times.
It is not new.
Sometimes it sparks when she witnesses Ron with his children or in the past when Ginny received a letter from Harry and she did not. Illogical feelings like those are easy to combat. Hermione bears each sting with the hopes that one day she will become immune.
Today is not that day.
Hermione stands on the veranda overlooking the grassy palace garden where Draco and Lady Astoria have been walking and talking for over an hour. With attendants and eyes all around, nothing untoward has happened, but when one so much as looks at the other, she grits her teeth.
Every casual exchange that indicates familiarity makes her fists clench.
Every laugh.
Hermione trains her eyes elsewhere. Then back.
Envy, she reminds herself, means one has a desire for what another has. Jealousy is a person's inordinate fear of losing something that belongs to them. She cannot distinguish which emotion she feels, nor can she separate the two.
Envy is a begrudgement.
Jealousy means she cares.
Does she?
Draco is her husband, but he is also a man. A king. He is the law.
And she is not blind to the wandering eyes of men. Nor the attention her husband garners from women.
"Your Majesty."
Lord Flint is already mid-bow when Hermione turns. She acknowledges him with a nod. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I happened to be passing by and saw you alone. Given the Dementor attack, I am concerned for your safety."
"Is that so? Perhaps I might wait in the dungeons for the threat to pass."
Flint lowers his head. "I see my comment has made you cross with me."
"Not cross. Aware," she says coolly. "I thank you for your concern, but my attendants—"
"Appears to have vanished. If I might earn forgiveness by keeping watch until they return." He appears humble in a way that seems genuine.
She could deny him, but decides against it. "Very well."
Flint smiles slowly before turning, catching her previous sight line. "Ah, I was looking for His Majesty. I should have known he would be on his daily walk with Lady Astoria."
"Daily?" She did not know this, but then again at this time she is usually with her Ladies.
"Yes. Since his return, of course." Marcus' brow lifts slightly. "I am sure there is nothing untoward happening, if that is your concern."
Hermione cannot lie, so she speaks about something else. "I am enjoying the fresh air."
"They have been close since they were children. Queen Narcissa thought to match them at one point but Astoria's illness and recovery left her barren. I hear she regrets her own marriage, as it came before Draco's return and the subsequent actions that led to him choosing a queen for himself. I have no doubt he would have chosen her had she been healthy."
Allowing his words to marinate while staring at the two, she remains silent, ignoring all the thoughts that flutter about in her head. There is no doubt Astoria would make a fine queen. Hermione will never—
She banishes the thought.
"I imagine their friendship is harmless, much like yours with Lord Percival."
Hermione schools her features. She improves each day. "Then they are good friends, indeed. I have known Percy since we were children. His brother is one of my dearest friends, as well as Harry's."
"I suppose the parallel exists perfectly as you, too, rejected his hand."
The words are searching but his tone is conversational. She does not appreciate his comment, but should she allow herself to be affected, it will go poorly. "I did not intend to marry, but—"
"But the king would not have it any other way. It is as he decreed, regardless of your feelings on the matter."
It is an opinion Hermione has never vocalised. "Do you take issue with His Majesty?"
"We do not agree on certain matters, but that is natural. I suppose Lady Astoria—"
"Are you and Lady Lavender childhood friends?" Hermione asks. "I have seen you two speaking just as often as the King walks with Lady Astoria."
"We are well acquainted." Marcus keeps his face even, but there is a hint of something in his voice that speaks of his annoyance. "We both have been at Court for our entire—"
"Lord Flint."
They both turn to the new voice.
Despite nearly having his soul sucked from his body, Lord Sirius is the picture of relaxation, leaning against the archway with a razor sharp smile. "Surely you have something better to do than bore the queen."
Flint tenses. "We were speaking."
"Snape has questions about your decision to change the guards on all the towers following the Dementor attack."
"Of course he does," Flint grumbles. He excuses himself with a bow at the exact time a faint scent of something odd mixes in the breeze. Like the man himself, it is gone before she can identify it.
When they are alone, Sirius looks around before addressing her properly. "Your Majesty."
"Sirius, please," she sulks.
"Hermione."
"Thank you." Her smile grows, brow arching mischievously. "Did Lord Snape truly request him?"
"He did, but he has gone into town to meet with his Potions Masters in training. I am certain Lord Flint will be made aware after he stalks the entire palace looking for him." His smile turns wicked then fades. "James and Lily asked me to look out for you, but they should know that I have made looking after you and Harry a habit, whenever I can."
The sentiment makes her happy. "I do know this. Where are my parents?"
"Writing to Remus," Sirius tells her. "He is back from his travels abroad and at home writing his guide to werewolves, supplied with Wolfsbane so we have no more… incidents."
Like the time he transformed on the full moon after a skipped potion and chased Hermione, Harry, and Ron through the forest. It was the same night they found out Ron's pet rat was a snivelling Voldemort supporter who spouted nonsense about Harry and the Lost Kingdom she can hardly remember now.
Vasades and Sirius subdued Remus together.
What became of the rat, she does not know.
"I am glad Remus is well. I do wish to see him again." There was much she learned from him during his time as their formal tutor. "I wish to hear about his travels, what he has learned."
"I will give him your regards when we meet with Dumbledore."
"Good, but why are you—"
"If I must say, about Lord Flint, I would not trust him."
"I do not, nor do I trust many on the Council."
Sirius looks relieved. "I have known him since he was a boy, but he has inherited the Flint Oddity."
"What do you mean?"
"The Flints gained and maintained their power through dark magic and means. It was their hubris that brought cursed trouble to both their bloodline and land. They had to annex their lands to save their lives. Whatever they unlocked, whatever they found, nearly drove their line to extinction. Like his forefathers, who all went mad, Marcus seeks to restore their family name to their previous prestige. He is harmless, though, and bound. He cannot act against the crown."
"Can the bond be broken?"
Sirius shrugs. "A—oh, Your Majesty."
He is not addressing her but Draco, who steps on the landing of the veranda with Astoria at his side. Hermione did not hear their arrival.
Always charismatic, Sirius offers his arm to the Duchess, along with the invitation to accompany her anywhere she wishes to go.
Astoria playfully swats his hand. "You cad, my husband will be most unamused."
Sirius flashes a rakish grin. "I am but an old, harmless man who nearly lost his soul."
"You are not either of those and your soul remains intact." She laughs but accepts his offered arm. Her parting words to Draco return Hermione to the edge Sirius' presence helped ease her from. "Go on."
The king observes her when they are alone. "Are you well?"
It is the first time Draco has spoken to her since returning from visiting Kaida yesterday.
She has no answer for him, opting instead to glare in silent defiance.
He begins to reach for her hand and Hermione recoils.
"Excuse me, Sire." She ignores his flinching at her stressed word. "I must take my leave."
It only takes once for Hermione to learn how to use the Vanishing Cabinet.
She starts visiting Kaida each morning before anyone notices her missing from her chambers.
At first, the dragon is sceptical of her and the mortar and pestle she brings to grind the ingredients she manages to find. She spreads paste on the tears of Kaida's wings while telling a story her mother has orated so often she knows it by heart.
"There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight…"
Each day, the tears and wounds are smaller than before.
It takes time, but the salve works.
After a week, Kaida allows her to apply the paste without protest.
After a fortnight, she awaits Hermione's arrival and sulks when she is late.
After three weeks, she decides to come at night, too.
At least here she feels needed. Here she feels less alone. Here she belongs.
This morning marks the one-month anniversary of her first solo visit. When she arrives, Hermione's heart is as dark as the night time sky. She applies the paste, but still Kaida watches, nudging her in such a way that it sends her sprawling on the sand. Hermione glares at the dragon who continues to watch her closely, but then she realises Kaida is trying to communicate.
"Do you want me to talk?"
Kaida huffs once.
"A story?"
Two huffs.
No?
They stare at one another.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Hermione asks softly.
One huff.
Slowly, Hermione curls up at the large dragon's side and finally opens up.
"Mother suspects something is wrong. She is starting to hover. They have delayed their return home and I should be happy but… I am not."
Kaida's nudge this time is softer.
Tender.
It cracks Hermione open. She closes her eyes and bares her soul.
"I am so tired of pretending with her, with everyone." Truth begins to unleash the pain. "I hate being ignored."
Hermione lets her tears fall like rain.
"These feelings burn within me, they give me no rest."
She rests her head on the dragon, lulled by the rise and fall of her breathing.
"Everything flees when you enter the sky. I wonder if you are lonely, too."
Even though she sees him coming, Draco clears his throat to announce his arrival.
Hermione closes her eyes, instantly aggravated by the interruption of the quiet moment she has taken for herself in the aviary. The sound of the chirping birds is gentle, relaxing. The peace is necessary before facing the second half of another day filled with chatter surrounding the distance between the king and queen. The whispers about his companionship with Astoria slice through her.
She tries to ignore it, but it is hard to do when the source of her anger is here.
"We are to dine in two hours," Draco says by way of greeting.
"Very well." Hermione folds her hands on her lap. "I will be on time. Like always."
"You are angry." Draco reeks of a surprising intensity. "You have been short with me for weeks now. You remind me more and more of my dragon, who is equally as moody."
"I have nothing to say."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Then do not believe me. I do not care. I am tired." Even the confession leaves her weary.
Draco looks down. For several minutes they avoid looking at each other.
A quiet request makes her tense, "Come."
Draco turns on his heels and leaves.
Scowling at his back, Hermione abandons her peace to follow him out of the aviary. He slows his pace until they walk side by side. But they do not go far, stopping in front of a shut door. After opening it, Hermione peers into the empty room.
It is dusty with two large windows that give the room light. One wall is lined with empty shelves and there is a small fire pit with a structure—
Hermione turns to Draco. "Is this place for me to brew?"
"As well as store your herbs and potions. The door is warded so that only you or I may enter."
It is not large—smaller than her space at home—but it is enough.
Proof of Draco keeping his word.
"Are you satisfied?" he asks tightly.
"It is small and needs cleaning, but I am."
"Perhaps now you will not be so cross with me."
Hermione tenses. "As king your power extends everywhere, but you do not control how I feel."
"And what do you feel?"
For the first time since she became his betrothed, the cold sensation of Draco brushing against her mind returns.
Hot with fresh anger, she whirls around. "Unless you want to give me an Occlumency lesson here and now, stay out of my mind."
"Very well."
"What?"
"There is no better place." Draco takes out his wand and circles her. "Outdoors you are distracted. In here, there is no one but you and I."
"You only wish to see into my thoughts under the guise of a lesson."
"I can see them whenever I like, but I afford you privacy, unless you project too loudly."
She watches him closely. "What you are saying is this is a lesson as well as a test."
"Yes."
Hermione knows better than to engage, that a lesson in her current state is a poor idea, but she is exhausted.
Her feelings have festered to the point of open rage. Avoidance is no longer an option.
"What would you have me do, Sire?"
His exhale does not disguise his frustration. "Clear your mind."
Hermione closes her eyes and breathes until she is free of thought.
"Now imagine a field."
She conjures an image in her mind.
"Build a wall. Stone by stone, brick by brick."
It is difficult to form the mental picture, but she does. And when Hermione finishes, she feels him brush across her thoughts.
"I should go easy on you." He sounds wistful and close. "Alas, I cannot."
And then she feels him knocking down her wall, infiltrating her mind. Seeing what lies within.
"Push me out."
Hermione does not know how but she tries.
"You watched me walk with the Duchess."
She curses and shuts her eyes tight.
Out.
Sweat accumulates. The pressure in her head intensifies.
"This explains your—"
"Out! Get out!"
Draco's presence vanishes from her mind.
The walls of the room shake and groan. Hermione's eyes burn as dirt showers from the ceiling. The shelves tremble, knocking back against the stone.
"Good." He takes a shaky breath. "Next time, less magic. You might take down the castle with your power."
Hermione turns her back to him, but the pain does not subside. "I need a min—"
"Why are you jealous of a married woman?"
Embarrassment burns her cheeks. "I am not jealous."
"Your thoughts do not lie as easily as your words." She feels Draco at her back. "Or as poorly, might I add."
"You are a king and a man," Hermione says, finding it easier to talk without having to look at him. "With our terms, I gave up my liberty when they placed this crown on my head."
And it is hard not to harbour anger at her circumstances.
The sound of his boots on the stone makes her tense. "Are you going to look at me?"
"No. What was the point of using your mother's questions to choose a wife if you were not going to apply them to your life? To your rule over this kingdom? To me?"
Draco does not answer. "Hermione, turn around."
"What does it matter if I face you or the wall? To me, both are equally as cold."
"Is that what you think of me?"
"That is what you have shown me in marriage." Hermione tries to stop, but the words spill like water through a crack in a dam. "I am barely tolerated by anyone except a few of my Ladies and I only foresee this life becoming worse the longer I am in it. I am miserable and I cannot hurt without being judged. People whisper about your lack of presence in my chambers. They find me lacking, and though I know I am not, I find myself wondering if they are right. If—"
"Turn. Around."
It is no longer a request.
Draco is a king and his words are unquestionably a command.
Hermione does as she is told, which infuriates her to the brink of tears. "I do not care about the criticism or the whispers. I can accept your wishes to not sire children." She steps closer, fury burning through her veins. "But what I will not tolerate is blatant disrespect by you proving their beliefs correct and flaunting your dalliances in my face!"
"I have no time nor desire for mistresses. I meant what I said about heirs. I will not take that risk." Fingers ghost her cheek before he tilts her chin up to meet his gaze. "My family has a strong belief in fidelity."
This does nothing to diminish her anger.
"My absence from your chambers is not from a lack of desire." His voice is low, passionate. "Is that what you want to hear?"
Hermione pants in rage. "No, I want, I want—"
In the blink of an eye, Draco hauls her against him and then they are moving. The moment her back hits the stone, lips slam against hers, pulling her in deep. Liquid heat pours into her veins as he works her mouth open, kissing her like a starved, desperate man. Ferocious hunger leaves her breathless.
Familiar feelings flood back, filling spaces so perfectly it's as though they never left.
While gripping the back of his neck, then his hair, Hermione lets herself feel everything.
She lets herself crave him, crave this moment of being seen, crave his touch.
Closing her eyes as Draco trails greedy kisses down her jaw and neck, sucking the skin of her throat, she—
Hermione snaps back to reality and shoves him away, magic tingling in her fingertips. Draco looks stunned, confused, but pulls himself together before her eyes, mouth lowering into a frown, prepared for a fight.
"Do not touch me." She shakes her head. "You have no right to do such things when your actions contradict your words. Not once have you sought me out for anything unless it involves filling the end of your bargain and now you—"
Draco takes a step closer and the walls shake again. The doors and window fly open.
"You think that or fulfilling my demands will keep me content? I assure you it will not!"
"Hermione…" His voice cuts through the rumbling.
Everything stops.
"Do not address me as if I am your ally when you treat me like I am nothing but a pawn filling a role. I will never truly have your confidence and trust. I am tired of trying. I did not ask, want, or need any of this!"
The next time he steps closer, she gives him a warning look that, for the first time, makes Draco retreat.
"I have accepted this fate and will find my own peace by being a queen of the people and bettering their lives." Hermione squares her shoulders with resolve. "But only because I cannot better my own. I will still follow your rules, I will not betray you, but do not say or do anything to make me think there is something other than this emptiness between us."
"I believed…" Draco looks as frustrated as she feels. "I was advised to give you space and time to grow accustomed to your new life as queen. I had others help you. I protected you. I am trying—"
"How can I be queen when you dismiss and ignore me, keep me under guard, treat me like I do not matter, and seek the opinions of others over me? The person you chose as your wife!" Unwanted and unwarranted emotions rise in the form of tears. "I deserve better than this. I want—"
Hermione chokes back the unexpected word.
You.
The realisation is devastating, heart-breaking.
"I-I need to dress for dinner."
He reaches for her one time but stops, withdraws. "Your lesson is not yet finished."
"But I am."
"You are restless, Hermione."
Mother is as concerned as the other Ladies who sit around her following a tense dinner. She and the king sat beside each other but did not bother with public pleasantries.
The increasing distance is noticed. And noted.
"What is wrong, my love?" Mother pulls her aside, out of earshot. "You do not confide in me anymore."
"I am fine." Hermione's hands tremble. She curls them into fists.
"You are not," she argues gently, reaching for her hands, shocked by how badly they are shaking. "I try not to hover. I distract myself and ignore your lies but you are so miserable it breaks my heart."
Hermione looks over her shoulder at her Ladies. Outside of Luna, Cho, Alicia, and Daphne—all of whom show genuine concern—she cannot take the attention of the others: the whispers or blatant smirks. There will be more talk about the king and queen in the following days.
She is tired.
Finished.
Ignoring her mother's worried eyes, she pulls away. "I wish for a moment's peace. Do not follow."
Hermione leaves.
Runs.
Being outdoors feels like being released from prison, but she does not find peace. Freedom is temporary. She must return yet Hermione's fury and restlessness take her farther away.
Daphne catches up to her first, out of breath.
Luna and Cho are close behind.
"Go back. I wish to be alone. My mother—"
"Did not send us," Cho interjects.
"Alicia stayed behind to listen to what will be said," Daphne informs. "We are here as your friends." Elm peeks out, her little eyes filled with concern.
"Or we are trying to be." Cho gives her a soft look. "If you let us."
"You must feel alone in a strange place." Luna steps closer. "But you are not. You have us."
Hermione cups her own cheeks and braves a smile through her tears, feeling horrible for how she is acting. "I—thank you, but I cannot return just yet."
"We will take a few guards and go where you wish."
They do just that with two knights accompanying them.
Tired of ignoring the pull, Hermione walks towards the field. She feels Cho's trepidation on their path. Daphne is oddly distracted with the knight, Goldstein, at her side while Luna is comfortable in the field beyond the warded stone wall, fascinated by the flowers and wildly buzzing fairies swarming in circles around the trees and in the sky.
Panic.
She wants to help them, to figure out what is distressing them. Hermione looks to the forest beyond with growing interest. Perhaps now is not the time. Still, she cannot help but walk onward, even when Wood slows his steps beside her.
As they pass the treeline, she and Luna stop. They look at each other, feeling the same thing.
The wrongness. The fear. The darkness.
"What is it?" Cho asks from several paces behind them.
Daphne stops next to her. "Looks like a regular forest to me."
"It is not. This place is unsettled and disturbed. This is why the fairies are in a frenzy." Luna's voice trembles from nerves. "We should turn back."
Hermione agrees but when she turns around, she meets an invisible wall that separates them from the guards and Cho.
A ward.
It only hums each time the guards try to bring it down.
"Go back for help," Hermione says.
"Yes, your Majesty." And the two men run back where they came from.
Cho waits and paces nervously.
Luna and Elm on Daphne's shoulder look to the trees.
Noises emerge from deeper in the woods.
It sounds like a chant.
Cho's scream is cut off when a red jet of light strikes her in the chest and she collapses in a heap. Hermione tries to rush to her aid, but she rebounds off the ward and stumbles back, disoriented.
A man wearing a turban steps from the shadows and into the light of the moon.
Hermione recognises his face.
The scholar. Quirrell.
Luna and Daphne look around suddenly at the people emerging from behind the trees.
They all wear black hoods and masks that cover their faces.
"Finally, you have answered my call." The man's usually kind face is warped with madness, his stutter completely gone. "We have been waiting. They will be so pleased to meet you."
He extends his hand.
Hermione's head fills with pain.
Then nothing.
Fornax: Latin for "furnace"
A/N: and here we go. about to leap in the fire.