Fourteen
Gemini
The palace dungeons are eerie and expansive. They feel endless.
Hermione shudders as they pass one empty cell after the next.
This is no place for a queen, everyone argued, but she needs to face the woman who wormed into her nightmares, her memories, her subconscious.
Hermione deserves closure.
Harry and Theo advised against it. When Snape called her insolent for her intrusion and Mulciber agreed, for the first time, Draco looked to her.
Asked her.
Hermione confirmed her request, and he relented—as long as he accompanied her.
Harry trails behind, walking with Astoria at his side.
Everything is muted. The crash of waves against rock is faint, a cruel reminder of a world those within these walls will never see again. Empty cells speak of prisoners who do not remain in these damp cells for long before judgement comes for them, swift and merciless.
Light seeping through small windows makes the dungeon feel more like a tomb. Spiders spin their webs on the walls. Wet patches are scattered on the rough stone floor. Water drips without rhythm from the arched ceilings, trailing down the walls, but their torches remain dry. Guards are stationed on their route; they stand at attention when the king and queen pass.
At the end of a corridor, Goldstein and Goyle wait with their wands drawn.
Fear rolls off them in waves. She understands why when she reaches them.
Bellatrix is a gruesome sight in the centre of her cell. Her black hair is wild, and bloody sockets rim where eyes once were. Blood rings her smiling lips, staining her teeth and coating her chin down to the rags she wears. Secured to the wall, the gold binds on her wrists keep her hands stretched out. At her feet is the body of a guard, deathly pale, eyes open, throat torn out, and head turned in an unnatural position.
Blood is everywhere.
Hermione feels sick.
Bellatrix's head snaps to them. "Is that you, Draco?"
He does not answer, only signals the knights to remove the dead guard's body. After levitating the corpse out of her open cell, Astoria snaps her fingers. Two house-elves appear and Vanish with his body. They know what to do.
Harry gives Draco a vial. Draco says nothing as he steps inside his aunt's cell. Harry's hand is firm on Hermione's shoulder, stopping her from doing the same.
"It is you. Weak and pathetic, just like when you were a child." Her hollow smile grows. "You should have come when I called. Now there is more blood on your hands."
He steps closer.
"Darling, nephew." It is as if she can feel his presence. "You should speak now or—"
"Or what?" Draco moves with precision. His wand is at her throat, digging into her flesh. He uncorks a vial and forces the contents into her mouth. "Oscausi."
Her mouth is replaced by smooth skin.
Bellatrix's throat bobs on a gag until she is forced to swallow.
"I do not care for your taunts." Draco watches her fight against her binds; his detachment borders on numbness. "I want answers."
It is dreadfully silent. Astoria whispers to avert her eyes, but Hermione does not. She watches her tormentor suffer, knowing she should feel something other than a remorseless sense of justice. But she does not. The fight Bellatrix puts up begins to dwindle until she loses it altogether.
Draco crushes the vial under his foot and reverses the spell.
Her mouth returns, but she coughs so much she cannot speak.
"What is your name?" He returns his wand to her throat. "Do not fight the Veritaserum, it will be painful."
"Bellatrix Lestrange." Her voice is drawn out with force, every word fighting against her will. Her following scream echoes in the dungeon.
Goldstein and Goyle still have their wands drawn. Harry remains a firm presence at her back. His hand sits heavy on her shoulder, ready to pull her away at the slightest provocation.
"Good." Draco brings his wand to her neck. "Where is your master?"
She tenses and strains against the potion, but that crazed smile returns, chilling Hermione to the bone. "My Master is here and there. Everywhere. He comes for those he has marked."
Hermione looks over her shoulder; Harry looks grim. She covers his hand.
"After trying to kill them before they drew breath, why does he want them now?" Draco asks.
"His blood will give my master true life. A new age is upon us. The Dark Lord will rise and rule. Those who stand against him will fall."
The sentiment comes out strong because this is her belief.
The potion cannot combat her truth. But she said—
His.
His blood?
There are two marked families.
Draco realises this, too. "Why do you need the Lost Chosen One?"
"The Longbottom prince is protected by his mother's pitiful sacrifice."
Astoria's inhale is so quiet Hermione barely registers it, but she feels tension rolling off Harry. From fear or anger, she does not know which.
"It is not too late to turn from your path," Bellatrix tells him. "Your heart is grey, neither dark nor light. You care nothing about this realm. The Dark Lord has power beyond your understanding. He can bring your mother back, Draco. Give you what you desire. All you have to do is kneel."
Draco's shoulders tense. Hermione cannot see his face when he lowers his wand.
Is he listening to her rhetoric?
Her nerves spike.
The seconds tick on and a palpable darkness settles over the cell.
"That is not the way, Draco," Astoria says. "She lies."
"How can I lie when I speak only the truth?" Bellatrix retorts. "Who are you to speak his given name?"
Astoria steps back.
Harry does not. "It is the truth you believe. It does not make it true."
"Who are you?" Bellatrix sounds interested. "I do not know your voice."
"And you will not."
Hermione wonders what Draco is thinking. He has not moved.
When his gaze shifts, eyes dimming, turning fierce and cold, she knows what is on his mind. She is reminded of Flint's words. The darkness the Malfoys use to gain, keep, and wield power. His ambition. The lure is strong, and the temptation to use and abuse this power is unmatched.
Like life and death, there are no permanent victories or defeats.
What Bellatrix speaks of is dark and twisted. But what will Draco give up to get what he wants?
His eyes answer when he does not.
Everything.
"With your Mudblood queen dead, you—"
"No." Hermione's voice makes Bellatrix's deranged grin falter. She knows she should remain silent, but she cannot. She takes a step closer, just beyond Harry's reach. "Despite your attempts, I am very much alive."
"How unfortunate."
Speaking to the source of her nightmares fills her body to the brim with strength. She stands straighter. The collision of dreams and reality might have stripped her naivety away and left residual darkness that wakes her each night, but she feels there is purpose in what has happened.
Bellatrix is bound and blind, but Hermione understands her terrors for what they are.
Nothing to fear, nothing to wish away. Her experience is a part of her, but is not her identity.
Fire and blood, fear and pain have torn Hermione's eyes open, but she is not jaded by what she sees. The world under this new lens is still teeming with colours and beauty, but it also has shades of grey and darkness.
They coexist.
As will she.
"When I tore your mind apart, I should have made certain you remained broken."
Hermione takes another step. "I might have cried and begged for death, but I was never broken."
"Your will is strong."
"As is his." Hermione cuts her eyes to Draco, locking him in her stare. "We are born, we live, and we die. Any change will not only disrupt the natural order, but it will dishonour her sacrifice. You know this. Do not let your mind be swayed."
The air of darkness around Draco begins to thin. He returns his wand to his aunt's throat.
"You should kill me." Dried blood around her mouth makes her look especially maniacal. "You cannot read my thoughts, and I will never give them unaltered. Let me live and you will never be free."
"Neither will you," Draco threatens, low and angry.
"No." Hermione's lone word draws his attention. "Death is a liberation she does not deserve."
He tilts his head. "And what justice would you exact?"
"I would allow her to live."
"You are weak." Bellatrix spits on the bottom of Hermione's gown, already dirtied by the dungeons. "I would have suffocated your mother if I knew she would birth a coward like you who shames our family, allies with our enemies, and pollutes our bloodline with filth from—"
"One more word and you will lose your mouth forever." Draco digs his wand into her throat.
Bellatrix falls silent.
"You both need to step away from her," Harry warns.
They do, approaching Harry and Astoria, standing side by side.
"Shall we send word to prepare the Dementor?" Astoria asks Draco. "This can be finished by dusk."
"Ye—"
"Wait," Hermione implores. "Killing does not solve everything."
"She would not show any of us the same mercy you are trying to extend," Astoria argues. "She tortured you, nearly killed you, and yet you remain naïve and kind, foolishly asking the king to grant clemency."
"I am not asking for clemency." Frenetic with both anger and a need to be heard, Hermione turns to Draco. "You said you would listen to my opinion before ruling. Killing Bellatrix is not the answer. She will die believing she is a martyr for her cause, to her King, as will others who follow his lead and fight in his name."
"And what would you do?"
"Let her live, but not as who she is now. Strip her of the identity she prides, the hate she clings to." Hermione looks at the bound woman. "You cannot change her heart, but you can restart her mind. Obliviate her."
Bellatrix hears this and begins to fight against her bounds, screaming and thrashing about.
No, you coward! Do not listen to that swine! Kill me! You must!
Draco stares at Hermione, eyes hard and focused until he squares his shoulders. "Very well."
Astoria's eyes widen, as do Harry's.
For the first time, real fear wafts off of Bellatrix.
She pleads, begs, and screams.
Hermione's heart settles.
This is justice.
The movement of his wand is swift and precise.
"Obliviate!"
Days pass.
Then one week.
Two.
The palace remains in a state of constant vigilance.
Regiments expand the search for Voldemort and his followers deeper into the kingdom. Every town and village is searched; people are questioned. Clues all lead to dead ends.
In the castle, the poisoning attempt is at the forefront of everyone's thoughts. There have been no further incidents, but Hermione pays close attention to everything, even as she plays along, letting elves taste her food and drink.
Court returns to normal.
The knights remain close to the palace; guards remain close to Hermione.
On the king's command.
They do not speak, but guard the door outside the room where she has Court lessons with Pansy and Astoria, renewed by her sudden urge to learn from the former and break the stalemate with the latter. They are on defence when she visits Andromeda before her return home with her Obliviated and blinded sister.
"I will care for her, teach her to be a better person, and make certain the darkness does not return."
"This is not mercy." Hermione sweeps hair from Bellatrix's face. It earns her a rotted smile. "Redemption is her punishment."
Hermione has a break from her guards when she attends to duties with Draco. He permits her to join a council meeting, and her appearance is met with quiet disdain from the usual, questioning looks from Flint and Snape, smirks from Smith and Nott, and approval from Percy and Sirius.
The meeting is tense but informative. She learns more about the hunt for Voldemort and his allies, and the extent of Rabastan's betrayal. He is the one who provided Queen Katie with the poisoned necklace and masked the presence of the Death Eaters in the forest. He is also behind the intensifying issues with Inferi sightings and guards vanishing from their posts around town.
Following, she walks the palace gardens with Vasades while Draco watches from his usual spot on the veranda, guards on either side.
Firenze joins them at nightfall.
"Vasades and I are set to leave in the morning," he announces.
Hermione falters. "What? Why?"
"There are mysterious changes in the forests all over the realm due to Voldemort's allies forming pacts with werewolf packs and at least two giant percussions," Vasades tells her. "It worries those who are neutral."
"We have been tasked with stopping the spread of fear to other species," Firenze adds.
"How long?"
"As long as it takes." Vasades places a hand on her shoulder. "Remember our paths. We may part, but we always find our way back to one another."
"I will miss you."
"And I, you." They stop and face each other. She dries Hermione's tears before they can fall. "I would not leave if I did not think you were strong enough to bear my absence. You have family, you have a king who is learning. You have friends in the sky, in the Court, and in the trees." She gives an affectionate glance at the bowtruckles running across the branches behind them. "Be not afraid."
"Will there ever be a time when you stay?"
Vasades smiles. "Near or far, my destiny is at your side."
This settles her discontent.
Firenze clears his throat. "I hear you have questions, Your Majesty."
"I do."
Firenze is a wealth of information—not only about the history of the kingdom she rules, but also the family she has married into.
"Did you know the king's parents?"
"I did. Their love was strong, true, but love can corrupt. However, as I told Draco when he started down this lonely path of his—without love, we are nothing."
Hermione looks down. "Thank you, Firenze."
"Ah, but you have something else on your mind."
She looks at him. "Can you hear my thoughts?"
"No, but I can tell there is more you wish to know."
"Am I ready to learn to conceal my thoughts?"
"You are," he replies. "Draco has decided to teach you himself. In the way he taught your brother."
Nerves grow at the prospect of lessons, but she cannot tell if they are from excitement or dread. "Draco can still hear my thoughts."
"And he will continue to, even after you learn, however softly. You and the king are bound down to the core of your souls."
"What does this mean?"
"You two are not broken pieces of one soul. You are two souls tethered and locked in the other's orbit. The pull has been there long before you knew of the other's existence. There are benefits in this, skills that are amplified but only as it pertains to the other."
"Draco's Legilimency and my—I have no similar skill."
"Ah, but you do," Firenze says. "Light and life. You will see."
"Is this how I was able to bond so quickly with Kaida?"
"Perhaps. Familiars are a beneficial flaw in the design of mankind. A manifestation created from the dust of magic to bind to an incomplete soul. They may be born of magic, but they have as much free will as any beast."
Hermione has held her next question as long as she can. "What do the stars say of Draco?"
Firenze chuckles deeply. "Vasades says you do not care for vague language of the heavens."
She looks to the cloudy sky, heavy with impending rain that will hide the stars tonight. "I care for things I can prove, but I feel this is something I need to know to understand our journey as king and queen, man and woman."
"Then follow me, Queen Hermione."
The sound of Firenze's hooves on the grass is all she hears as she walks with him. Vasades remains behind. When he stops well out of earshot, she does as well. They stand and watch fairies frolic above the trees.
"Humans are tethered by the limitations set by your kind." Firenze looks at her. "When you look to the stars, what do you see?"
"Guidance to true North and constellations that tell lessons of death and sacrifice."
"Typical." His voice is calming like the ocean, as deep as one of its many trenches. "You see what you were shown, remember what you are taught, but I can see both the potential and the infinite."
Instead of the skies, his words settle and soothe her spirit. They sound no different from what Vasades has told her all these years, but with her memories unlocked, they hold something new. Destiny and prophecy, things she cannot understand. For once, her mind is open to listen.
"Vasades has told me since I was young that I am the mother of constellations."
"You are." His bright blue eyes twinkle. "But you are also more."
Firenze opens his hand, revealing a collection of herbs. They levitate in the palm of his hand before they catch fire with magic and burn. Grey smoke curls and twists in the air.
She inhales and exhales.
A foreign feeling grows and intensifies.
Hermione sways on her feet as the skies open and she sees.
The heavens are vast, burning stars move about the sky, twisting and turning to tell the stories that give birth to legends. From beginning to end, the vast to the miniscule; taking it all in is almost too much, but Hermione cannot look away.
"Who am I?" Hermione whispers.
You are the product of destiny. The daughter of deliberate reason. The mother of change. Common-born, but you have never been insignificant.
Firenze sounds both far away and near. His voice is but a ripple in the expanse of the universe.
You are wisdom and kindness, forgiveness and absolution, intelligence and strength. But also judgement and justice, anger and wrath.
Tears run down Hermione's cheeks as emotions rise in her chest. Firenze lays a hand on her shoulder; a tether to keep her from losing herself. Gasping, she tears away from the skies, unable to speak as she catches her breath.
Firenze smiles. "The journey to what you seek most has already begun."
"What I seek most is not legacy, but peace."
"You will have both if you stay the course." He assures her. "As I told Harry, the road ahead is difficult. Prepare yourself for more than one battle. The road to the heavens does not always begin with death and sacrifice."
He blows the smoke and it vanishes, but the scent of remains.
It leaves her dazed.
"You did not tell me of Draco." Hermione looks at him once more. "I must know what the stars speak of him."
"Draco is Mars, bringer of war and destruction. He is also Venus, the keeper of peace. The two coexist in a harmony only he can maintain. Feeling the pull from every extreme, Draco does not yet know how to find balance. You must be his teacher, and he will be your guide."
Hermione thinks of Firenze's words in the morning when Draco rises with her.
They dress as they wish and leave under Disillusionment, returning to Hermione's secret routine.
Only now he bears witness.
Draco swims naked in the lake while she tends to Kaida's wing tears with paste and tells her favourite story. The Tale of the Three Brothers feels different now that she knows the truth.
When Draco joins them, he dresses and Hermione sits back as an observer. The bond between the king and his familiar goes beyond magic. It takes overhearing Draco's one-sided arguments for Hermione to see how little they agree on. But when he trips, Kaida throws her wing to stop him from falling. Their bond is fierce.
Kaida takes to the skies to hunt for breakfast in the sea. They stand on the water's edge, watching her as the sun rises on a new day.
"We leave for the forest to pick the Jamu plant tomorrow after the council meeting," Draco says.
"I will prepare everything I need."
"Good." They watch Kaida dive beneath the water. "When you are ready, we will leave to dress and greet Theo upon his return from his duchy. He would like you to meet his daughter."
Hermione looks at him sharply. "Daughter? I had no idea."
She cannot imagine Astoria as anything close to maternal.
"Her name is Eloise and her mother was Theo's first wife who died in childbirth. After the coup, he and Astoria sent her back to his duchy to ensure her safety, but now that things have settled here, they decided to bring her back."
"Why does he want me to meet her?"
"Theo is not fond of many people." Draco takes her hand as they leave, walking back to the Vanishing Closet with the sunrise at their back. "Since we were boys, he has preferred books and his lab to the majority of people in Court."
"For good reason."
Humour brightens his features as he holds up a branch for her to walk beneath. They quickly come upon their destination. "Every now and then he grows respect for another person. You are his latest. Much to Astoria's dismay."
She cuts her eyes. "Of course you would find amusement in this."
"Theo and I commiserate."
He opens the door and starts to walk in, but remembers himself and gestures for Hermione to step inside first before following, closing the door behind him. She does not feel the closet activate, but moments later, they step out with the palace in their sight.
Whatever ease Draco had by the shore dissolves.
He stands tense.
"Whatever is on your mind, put it aside and be present in this moment." Hermione thinks about Firenze's words as she lifts to the tips of her toes and kisses his chin.
She will be his balance.
The next day, Hermione watches Astoria and Theo in the courtyard.
Eloise steps out from behind a tree, laughing, her blonde hair bouncing as she runs to Astoria, who grins and hugs her close. Hermione has never seen Astoria so warm, so affectionate, accepting flowers from the little girl who does not share her father's quiet temperament.
She is loud, boisterous and calls Draco Uncle King.
Hermione is more surprised that he allows it.
When Eloise runs to the blanket that appears laid out with food, she witnesses another new sight. Open affection between Astoria and Theo.
Hermione leaves the smiling couple to kiss under the warm sun. When she turns the corner, she runs into Harry.
"I was coming to you," Harry says.
"What is it?"
His news is of a more sensitive and private nature. Hermione's guards are excused, and he continues her walk to the king himself.
They speak on a topic they have not yet breached.
Their parents.
"The town's defences have been fortified, as have the estate's. Nothing that lives will breach the boundaries. Mother's birthday is in a week's time, as you know. Ginny and I will spend the day with her, but she longs for you to be there as well."
"I know. I received her invitation and have declined. It is not because I do not wish to, but it is much too unstable to leave."
"I know, but she struggles with this distance. You write to her, you have made peace with the charm on your mind, but she has not seen you since they departed. Mother is most anxious to reunite. Father, too. They did not wish to go with your condition so perilous."
But she understands they had to.
There is much at stake, much to protect, and she bears no ill will.
"Discuss it with the king—"
"Discuss what?" Draco's voice comes from behind them.
They turn to find him between Pucey and Mulciber. Both appear poised to keep speaking, which means they seek private words beneath charms. They bow to her, but their reluctance is loud in the silent corridor.
"Come we will talk on the way. Kaida awaits for our trip."
"Trip?" Mulciber asks.
"The queen wishes to gather ingredients for her brewing room."
"Is that not a task for the elves?" Pucey looks as if he has eaten something sour. "Certainly it is not one befitting a queen."
"Yet it is my choice," Hermione replies dryly, a reminder that she is there.
"Surely, Sire, we have more pressing matters to discuss. Like the MacMillan lands. The king has died, his son has been crowned. This is the perfect time for conquest."
"Perhaps it is, if we wanted to wage war on a new, grieving king. The queen suggested we open trade with them instead of conquering to preserve the resources we seek instead of destroying them in warfare. I am inclined to agree."
The look she earns from Pucey is curious, as if he is truly seeing her for the first time.
Draco glares at him. "You both are excused."
Pucey's eyes narrow before he storms off. Mulciber follows.
Draco blinks and turns to her and Harry as if the tense exchange had never happened. "What is it that you two were discussing?"
"Our mother's birthday approaches and my sister does not think it safe to travel."
"When?"
"In a week's time," Harry replies despite the glare she gives him.
Draco pauses. "We will leave on the morning of."
Hermione is shocked. "But—"
Parents do not live forever. His words rattle in her mind. She does not argue further. Draco offers his arm and they walk to the front of the palace where Kaida awaits.
Harry bows low. "I will follow on Buckbeak."
Draco scowls. "I thought I ordered you to stay behind."
The only thing her brother offers is an impolite hand gesture. "See you there!"
Success sounds like full vials clinking in Hermione's beaded bag.
The forest is rich with ingredients and wildlife used for potions.
Nothing has changed since Hermione's last visit.
Draco lingers at her side as she gathers everything from flobberworms and horned slugs to valerian and knotgrass. After arguing about taking the entire plant, he sulks and holds her bag open while she gathers Jamu seeds and petals. Following as she leads, Draco asks questions and earns glares when he walks too loudly or carelessly stumbles, making the lacewing flies scatter from the trees.
"Seriously?" Harry whispers harshly.
"It is fine." Hermione smiles. "There are lacewing flies near the palace. I can ask Winky to gather some for me."
After exchanging many looks and silent arguments with Draco, Harry clears his throat. "Wild dittany grows here. I shall gather some, while making no noise and pretending I do not exist."
Harry runs off before she can tell him that she has enough. It grows in the aviary.
Draco glares in her brother's direction until he ducks behind the trees. His expression evens, and the corner of his lips quirk. It is then Hermione realises why Harry left.
Draco wants to be alone with her.
"All you had to do was speak," Hermione says.
Her hands are dirty from gathering, but Draco cleans them with his wand.
"Fine." He brings her hands to his lips; a simple act he does with growing ease. "I am speaking."
A rush of heat and memories of what occurred in the throne room make her flush. The nights they have spent exploring each other through touch. She wants more—far more, but having his fingers inside her and watching him fall apart with her hand around his cock is a different experience.
It feels like the precursor to the main event.
"I would have sent him to find Asphodel. Their powdered root produces Draught of Living Death. Not one I plan on brewing, but the key to potions making is to—"
"Always be prepared for anything." Draco smirks as they continue walking, now hand in hand.
"You brew?" she asks.
"More when I was younger, when Snape was one of my tutors, but less now. I do not have the time."
They reach a break in the forest where unfiltered sunshine touches the grass. A fox scurries off into the trees. Hermione follows it until it is out of sight, frowning slightly. There have never been predators in this area.
Perhaps there have been some changes.
"Do you miss brewing?" Hermione asks to distract herself.
"Sometimes."
"Perhaps you can brew with me when you are not busy."
Draco does not answer. Instead, he tilts his head. "You are happy here in the forest."
Hermione shrugs. "I am not a queen here."
"You are mistaken. You are a queen wherever you go."
"Royalty may exist in nature, but you and I do not control its coronations or unseatings. Out here, we are just people. We can put aside our crowns and exist."
"No matter Firenze's attempts, I have never been one with nature or the stars." His wince makes her laugh. "Being outside, getting my hands dirty while searching for ingredients... I find more joy in the skies."
"For me, gathering in nature is rewarding." Hermione steps closer to him. "Vasades taught me that nature is as generous as she can be cruel. When you have a better understanding of the world, it cultivates a respect for it and all living creatures. Had the forest changed drastically since my last visit, my time here today would be spent reacquainting myself with its rhythm and dialect. I would leave it gifts before I returned to accept anything it gave me."
"The forest cannot give you anything. You must take it."
"Spoken like a conqueror." Hermione gives him a look that transforms into a smile. "I have a bag of ingredients that say otherwise."
"You found those."
"Only because the forest told me where to look. The sun tells me which creatures are out and which are sleeping, the seasons tell me what plants live and what are dormant, and the air tells me how close we are to water by how much of it is in the breeze."
Hermione dusts off her gown and moves to stand in front of Draco. He watches her carefully after she raises her hand.
"Let me show you how the forest speaks. Place your hand on mine and close your eyes."
He does.
Her eyes flutter shut. "Open your mind. Take a deep breath."
The sound of his inhale pierces the silence. They exhale as one.
"What do you hear?" Hermione whispers.
Draco is quiet for a moment. "I hear—"
The wrongness of a low growl.
Hermione whirls around.
That is not the forest speaking but a threat from a wolf. It stands on the edge of the treeline, snarling, poised to attack. Draco draws his wand, his hand now gripping hers tight. A glimpse from the corner of her eye tells her that their hounds are near.
Danger.
"There are no wolves in this forest." Hermione takes a step back.
"That is no ordinary wolf," Draco says sharply. "It is an Animagus."
Three creatures emerge from the trees on all sides. A familiar fox, now snarling, and two strange men covered in fur, claws out. Werewolves. Partially transformed when the moon is not full.
The moment of anticipation shatters like glass.
All four creatures converge on them.
Hermione drops.
Hand to the ground, spell on her mind, her magic breaks the dirt, sending a shock wave that upends their attackers.
Draco lifts his wand to the sky. "Ventus!"
Wind swirls around them in a tornado, making it impossible for the beasts to close in.
Draco turns to her. "When the spell ends, run."
She grabs one of his daggers and draws her own. "I do not need to run when I can fight."
Draco looks as if she has gone mad. "Your weapons are close-range."
"You have a wand and a sword. Keep them back, and I—"
The spell ends, as does the time for talk. Hermione's dagger is just as fast as Draco's wand. He stuns the animagus wolf.
One of the werewolves bleeds from where Hermione's dagger sticks in its chest. It collapses in slow motion, choking and gurgling.
Draco blinks in shock, a momentary distraction that allows the remaining werewolf to tackle him from the side. His wand flies from his hand as they tumble into the grass.
The fox animagus launches at Hermione. She ducks and it clips the branch of the tree, yelping. Landing in a low crouch, its blue eyes fixate on her.
She shifts back on her heels and bends her knees, last weapon at her side, heart racing.
Draco and the werewolf have found their feet and fight several yards away. Draco dodges swipes from its claws, his spells bouncing off the wolf with no effect. He draws his sword and lunges.
So does the fox.
It charges, and Hermione braces to meet it head on. At the last second, she steps aside and brings the hilt down on its head, dazing it momentarily.
Draco shoves her away. Blood pours from where he draws his sword across the fox's neck
It returns to the shape of a woman. She is dead before she hits the ground.
Hermione looks at Draco. His werewolf foe is bleeding badly from a wound in its side. Murder lights his grey eyes, which look past her into the forest.
"Traitor."
At the clearing's edge stands Rabastan, flanked by three more werewolves.
"You are the traitor, nephew." Rabastan steps forward. "Not only do you betray your lineage with this filth, but you betray the one true king by fighting alongside his enemies."
Hermione has but a moment to dodge Rabastan's spell. Landing on her side in the grass, she rolls on her back after taking a painful breath.
Silently, she assures Draco that she is fine. Unharmed.
He does something unexpected before bracing himself for battle.
He disarms Rabastan and tosses her his wand. She snatches it from the air and fires the first jinx that her father taught her.
"Oppugno!"
The branches of the trees come to life.
One wolf is impaled, held aloft by a branch through its gut, blood splattering the ground like rain. The second is knocked unconscious. The third charges but does not make it more than two steps, swatted away by the wild, swinging branches.
More werewolves emerge from the trees—a pack of them—and Hermione repeats the spell on the fibrous roots.
They twine around the werewolves' feet, trapping them, but not for long. They fight back, snapping the branches with their claws, biting the wood, breaking free from the roots.
Draco charges at his uncle.
Rabastan draws his sword.
They meet with a clash of metal and might.
Their fight is brutal, fury powering every swing, every miss, every parry.
Hermione's spell spreads from tree to tree, encouraging rising roots to fight, to coil and crush their enemies, keeping Rabastan free of their aid.
A wolf breaks away, bearing down on the fight between Draco and Rabastan, but Hermione's throw rings true. The dagger embeds itself in the werewolf's neck, bringing it down as it grasps at nothing before yanking the blade out. Blood sprays freely while nature fights the other beasts.
While family fights family.
All it takes is a single mistake for the tide to turn. A missed parry brings Rabastan to his knees before his nephew.
"I welcome death so that the true king will ascend." He tilts his head up, snarling at Draco. "Send your dragon to burn me alive. I do not fear—"
"I do not need my dragon to fight my battles."
One stroke from Draco's blade separates Rabastan's head from his body.
The freed werewolves flee, leaving their dead and wounded; the fight is lost with the death of their commander.
Move!
It is not a command Hermione hears; it is one she feels.
She ducks low, mere seconds before Draco's sword hurdles over her head, impaling the werewolf she did not notice behind her. It totters backwards into a tree. Blood pours from its wound and mouth; its legs kick uselessly in the fight against death.
Draco rushes over to her. "How did you know he was behind you?"
"I did not. I-I felt I needed to move."
They stare at each other in confusion.
A distant flare of light shoots above the trees and pops.
The werewolf coughs what sounds like a laugh.
"You cannot stop what is coming." The wolf continues to choke on his blood, a smile on its face. Draco goes to remove his sword, the blade glowing at his touch. "He is here."
Dread sinks into the pit of her stomach.
"Who?"
The wolf gurgles and laughs. Draco pulls the wand up enough to cut his heart in two, ending his life and prompting realisation.
The flare.
This has only been a distraction.
"Harry!"
They run towards the light, tripping over dozens of felled trees only to find Kaida and Buckbeak in the sky fighting against an invisible ward.
Smoke greys the once blue sky. Trees rustle and lean violently, helpless to fight the tornado of wind and magic she and Draco cannot feel.
They cannot move with their feet locked to the ground. They both fight it, but it is impossible to free themselves.
Fire from Kaida's roaring anger blankets the ward that glows hot. But it does not break.
And in the middle of the chaos, locked in a battle of wands, are Harry and Voldemort's host, Rodolphus.
Red and green meet mid-air, arcing a narrow beam of deep gold. Both hover above the ground, holding onto their wands with both hands, struggling. Harry is yelling in pain but so is Voldemort from the back of his host's head.
Ghostly visions emerge.
Magic permeates all.
Men. Women. Children.
People Hermione does recognise.
But there is one she does.
Queen Narcissa.
Draco looks transfixed, terrified yet drawn to the spectre that calls his name.
Harry and Rodolphus rise further. Red begins to overtake green as the pulse of gold brightens.
Rodolphus grits his teeth, but Voldemort's face, transposed on the back of his head, screams in pain. A great crack ripples through the forest, and Voldemort's wand begins to glow.
The ground shakes.
The spell ends, sending both to the grass.
Everything stops. The ghosts vanish.
Rodolphus looks at the wand in his hand. It still glows and smokes.
Harry's does not.
"My Lord, I—"
"Go, Rodolphus," Voldemort hisses.
Draco throws his sword, but they vanish with a pop that startles them all. Hermione is at Harry's side before she can recall the steps it takes her to get to him. After calling the sword back with an extended hand, Draco catches and sheaths his weapon.
"What was that?" Harry looks pale and shaken, panting and sweating from the effort.
Kaida finds space to land in the grass behind them. Buckbeak does the same.
At the same time, they notice a familiar phoenix sitting on a felled tree trunk, observing everything.
"I do not know, but I do know where we can find answers." Draco scowls. "Dumbledore is near."
Gemini: Its name means "the twins" in Latin. The constellation represents the twins Castor and Pollux (Polydeuces), also known as the Dioscuri in ancient times, in Greek mythology.
*insert chicken running in gif* Sorry for the late!
2023 is off to a wild and stressful start. Glad to be getting back to this. I chose the name of the chapters because of the brother wand interaction from canon. Also shout out to canon Harry moment I've been dying to write "I'll be in my room doing nothing and pretending like I don't exist" HAHAHA. And Yes everything is getting thick! The hints about why people have familiars, their soul bond, and what the stars say about Draco. And ya know, Hermione being a queen. And Draco learning how to be a supportive king (and simp). A packed chapter with a lot to unpack. And on we go.
Special shout out to my partner in crime, who absolutely kicked ass with this variety of art pieces this chapter.