Sixteen
Hydrus
"A word, Lady Alicia."
As the others begin to leave, Lady Alicia remains silent, standing with her head low. It is the evening before Prince Neville's arrival and the celebration feast is set to begin soon.
Daphne, Cho, and Luna stand by the side of an increasingly stoic Pansy. Hermione has shown great patience allowing her Ladies to dress her for the occasion. Romilda and Leanne, two of Hermione's Ladies, linger as if they want to hear the beginning of their conversation, until a sharp look from Hermione sends them on their way.
When they are alone, Hermione relaxes in her seat on a small sofa in her dressing room and gestures for Alicia to join her.
Alicia is effortlessly beautiful, tall with skin that forever looks kissed by the sun. She uses her appearance to make everyone forget about her keen mind and wit.
Her expression is guarded yet curious. "Your Majesty?"
"I have little time before the others begin to whisper about our private meeting." Hermione clasps her hands together and rests them on her gown—magenta satin trimmed with lace. One of her least favourites but Lavender, Leanne, and Romilda were insistent. "With Pansy's impending departure, I believe now is the perfect time to properly introduce myself."
"Your Majesty, I am already one of your Ladies. I—"
"I hope that we might cultivate the same relationship you have had with Princess Pansy all these years."
Alicia has been a liaison between her Ladies in waiting and Pansy. She has been a guard and trusted advisor—much like Daphne. The two work in tandem. Alicia monitors everything, especially how far the ever-so popular Lavender's reach is over Court and beyond. Pansy trusts her with her life. Now that she is set to leave, Hermione is in need of such an ally.
"Did Pansy ask you to speak to me?"
"No."
"I told her that I would continue protecting you after she leaves. There is no need—"
"I am told you and I are similar," Hermione interjects gracefully. "I would like the opportunity to earn your loyalty and friendship."
Alicia looks more on guard than before. "You are a queen, you do not have to earn anything."
"You are mistaken." Hermione stands and offers her arm. "I confess I am still settling into this role, but I know enough now to begin handling all aspects of this myself, including alliances. I assure you, I mean no harm."
"I know," she replies candidly, accepting Hermione's arm. "I am merely surprised by the truth of your character. Daphne and Pansy have said as such. Cho and Luna, as well."
Hermione smiles. "Walk with me. I am to meet the king. Use this as the excuse for your delay when you return to the others in the hall."
"Very well."
Before they leave, Alicia surprises her once more by touching her gown and closing her eyes. The colour changes to a more appealing jade green. "That is better, Your Highness."
Hermione agrees.
Together, they leave the dressing room. Her silent guards await, faces covered.
As they walk to the Great Hall, they take their time.
It is well known that Draco should have married Alicia for political gain. It does not take long for Hermione to see that she would have made a good match. Quiet but not passive, intelligent and observant but not arrogant; they are not dissimilar.
According to Pansy, their differences lie in approach. Alicia is not a fighter, more subtle in her presence, where Hermione is straightforward.
Gifted at an array of useful charms, Alicia breathes a spell that keeps their privacy. It touches one guard first, then the second.
"If I may speak freely?" Alicia requests.
"You may."
"Pansy has protected you from much. Too much, I am afraid."
"Please explain."
"The jealousy amongst your Ladies goes beyond Lavender's gossip or them insisting that you wear a hideous colour thinking it would displease the king."
Hermione frowns. "That was the reason behind the choice?"
"I am afraid, yes."
Little do they know, Draco does not care about gowns and jewels.
"Something is stirring under your nose, Queen Hermione. I do not know which of the Ladies are involved, nor do I know if it relates to the troubles in the kingdom or if they are different. I do believe one knows something. Lady Marietta has been skittish for months, avoidant when I try to draw her into conversation. She is Lady Cho's friend, yet they have not spoken in months."
"Cho did not tell me this."
"She does not wish to burden you with her troubles."
That is her way, after all.
Hermione sighs and makes note to speak to Cho later. "Once Prince Neville is settled and I return from my visit to my parents, bring Lady Marietta to me so that we may speak without the eyes of the other Ladies upon us. Cho will need to be in attendance, as well."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"From now on, I wish to be informed of such matters, however frivolous they may seem."
"Pansy did not think the jealousy of women mattered, but like my father, I believe in safety. There is no danger greater to you than a woman at your back who covets something that does not belong to her."
She is right, Hermione realises with a slow inhale. "What do you propose?"
"Diplomacy in most matters, but when it involves those who tend to your person, I am firm in my belief that any ill tongue should be cut out."
Hermione stills at the strong stance. "I am not hasty to jump to conclusions or punish anyone prematurely, but I will be on guard. I will not ignore any whispers."
They fall into a brief, companionable silence as they pass Lord Flint and Snape walking in the opposite direction. Both Lords bow; Flint's eyes are on her the entire time. It leaves her feeling uncomfortable, wanting to change the subject.
"You mentioned your father—Alfred Spinnet, Prince Consort of the Shafiq Kingdom." A good and fair man, if what she has learned remains accurate. One day, he will make a great consort to the future queen. "Your station would be higher there, yet you are here."
"My father did not know if King Draco's war would come to the Shafiq Kingdom and sent me here for my safety. He has sent for my return many times following his marriage, but I quite enjoy the independence I have here. There, my hand would be given to someone I could not grow to love. Here, I am safe."
Hermione understands, but in one way Flint was right. There is a freedom that comes with being queen, but each day is a fight, each move is calculated, and every win is tenuous.
"I could not bear to part with Daphne, Cho, or even Luna. I knew one day I would part with Pansy, as she made me stay behind to protect you." Alicia looks at her. "She cares for you."
"And I, her."
"She has charged me with keeping an eye on those who watch you: Pucey, Mulciber—"
"Flint."
Alicia's short nod confirms this. "Flint has a wandering eye. He has favourites, nobles and Ladies he pays attention to."
"Like Lavender."
"Yes. Romilda and Leanne, too. He has also given flowers to Demelza this past week."
"Oh?" At sixteen, Demelza is the youngest. Flowers have never left Hermione so uncomfortable. "Protect her. She is too young for such attention from a man like Flint."
"I will have Cho seek her out, but I believe she is like anyone else he has given attention to—a means to an end I have not figured out. He also watches you. All eyes are always on the queen, but there is something odd—"
"Believe me, I am aware," Hermione says quickly, recalling each look and scent, their conversations and interactions; all that has left her feeling like something is amiss. "I remain careful and watchful."
"Good." Alicia nods as they pass the aviary. "I have known Lord Flint since I arrived. He has changed over the years, grown colder, odder. He has withdrawn from his friends and keeps strange hours, although he excuses this with his work with the palace Dementors. He cannot act against the crown, he is bound to it though magic, but—"
"Bonds can be broken."
A quiet understanding is exchanged.
They turn the corner and happen upon Astoria walking between Sirius and Percy, a pair of servant escorts trailing behind them with blank faces. The severe expression Sirius wears brightens when he sees them.
"Your Majesty," he greets charmingly. "And Lady Alicia. We were just coming to find you."
"What is the problem?" Hermione questions.
"Nothing dire," Percy assures. "A squadron of soldiers has gone missing."
"Missing?" They speak as one.
"How is this not dire?" Alicia asks the question that is on the tip of Hermione's tongue.
"It has happened before," Sirius says with a casual shrug. "Perhaps defectors, but as they have not yet returned to their homes, they are now on the list along with guards who have vanished from their posts."
Astoria looks over her shoulders where Hermione's masked guards await, their backs facing them. "Perhaps this conversation should not be had in the open."
"Sirius and Percy, please escort Lady Alicia to the hall for the feast." Hermione looks at her Lady. "We will speak very soon."
"Yes, Your Highness."
When they are gone, for the second time she finds herself alone with Astoria. To Hermione's eternal surprise, she gestures for them to walk together. They traverse the corridors in silence at first, with guards several paces back. Astoria walks with her hands behind her. The soft grey of her gown makes her appear pale but beautiful.
"Pansy wants us to be friends," Astoria announces. "I believe this desire will only grow now that she is to leave."
"She cannot forge a bond with will alone." Hermione casts a glance. "Only we can, and only if we are willing."
"I learned long ago that one cannot be forced to change their mind or even their heart," she says, bringing her hands behind her back. "Draco told me he would never love me or anyone, even if he had a choice. I was heartbroken and did not believe him until he married Millicent and I watched her fail to capture his attention. When she gave up on him, Millicent began to have affairs. Draco never cared. She hated him so much she tried to have every ally of his killed on fake charges of treason. And then there was the attempted coup."
"Where were you?"
"With Eloise, reading her a story. She was sick with a fever. When they came for us, I used my dagger to save her." Astoria taps the pin that keeps her hair tied up. "I may not be her mother but she is my daughter. I refuse to live in chaos, and I refuse to let Eloise live through something like that again. That is why I do not dissuade the king's judgemental wrath, and why I am hard on your kindness."
Her head spins from this information. "I suppose a part of me thought, despite your marriage to Theo, that you carried a torch."
"My heart belongs to the man and child who mended it. I will never be a mother, but Eloise chose me. Theo did, too, knowing I will never give him a son to carry on his name." She straightens her shoulders, but Hermione can see the hurt in her eyes. "They are all I need, all I wish to protect."
"I—"
"But there is something you should know." Astoria's demeanour smooths back to perfection. "I used to think Draco was incapable of change, that he would remain cold and selfish and bitter, that he would never allow himself to care for another. But perhaps I was premature. I have known him all my life, but I have not seen him like this."
"Like what?"
"Motivated. Not wholly by vengeance, but something I did not know he possessed: hope."
Hermione knows the stories about Prince Neville.
With tales of his dramatic birth and teenaged bravery against the Lestranges and Nagini, she expects a man like Draco: pretentious and cynical, handsome and strong, morally grey and vicious with a wand.
The prince is tall and handsome. Dark blond hair and a round face; a sturdy figure with large, calloused hands. But as he descends from the back of his familiar with an axe in hand, Hermione quickly learns that Prince Neville is many things that Draco is not.
Shy. Humble. Unassuming.
He drops his axe twice.
"Still a fat, awkward wreck." Lavender's curt comment pierces the silence during formal introduction.
It earns her scathing looks.
It is humid, the sun sits high, and they have been standing in regimented rows at the end of a long line of guards. It has lasted far too long, yet Draco still speaks to the prince following Hermione's introduction. Her crown is starting to make her neck stiff. Luna dabs sweat off her brow twice despite the cooling charms.
Prince Neville's familiar suddenly stumbles with a gaucheness uncommon to his species; the thud of its heavy step shakes the earth. Onlookers step back.
Hermione has never seen a water dragon before and stares along with everyone else. It is larger than Kaida, with yellow eyes, green scales, and teeth sharp enough to cut through metal. Like a snake with webbed feet and wings that appear to be less for flying and more for cutting through the water.
Everyone is nervous, understandably so, but Hermione is intrigued.
Daphne places a hand on her shoulder to stop her unconscious approach.
"Trevor is larger than I remember," Pansy murmurs.
Hermione chuckles at the name.
Trevor. The clumsy water dragon.
She rather likes it.
As stoic as Pansy appears, the sun makes her squint and does her no favours. It illuminates the man she has met only once when they were children; a man set to become her husband and king.
When Neville walks down the aisle of saluting soldiers and knights and sees Pansy, he trips over his own feet. Draco shakes his head.
Lavender appears vindicated.
The introductions do not improve. Everything comes to an abrupt halt when Trevor suddenly changes from green to yellow.
He hiccups.
They have but a moment before he vomits.
Green liquid splashes on the grass.
It instantly browns and dies.
Trevor sneezes, droplets escaping in all directions.
Chaos ensues when people realise their clothes and shoes are being eaten by the acid in the dragon's saliva. Some strip out of their melting clothes right there, others stampede over each other in a race back to the palace. Half of Hermione's Ladies are in the midst of the crowd, their duties forgotten.
The king's knights and Royal Council remain to maintain the situation, even when some of the soldiers do not. The panic, along with Prince Neville's blundering attempt to ease the crowd, leaves Hermione stunned silent.
"Sorry!" Prince Neville uselessly apologises. "He is nervous! I swear he is kind. His saliva will only take off the top two layers of skin!"
This does nothing to stop the uproar.
Pansy, who has not shown any emotion since she learned of his arrival, starts smiling, then… laughing.
"Is she okay?" Cho whispers, holding Demelza's hand.
Hermione and Daphne exchange shrugs while Alicia stops an awe-stricken Luna from approaching Trevor.
It is not until she sees the expression on Draco's face change that she realises a bit of saliva has touched the hem of her gown. He rushes to her, cutting the dissolving hem with his dagger before checking her over. He is tense, as usual, but the barest hint of panic makes her slack with shock.
Normally, Hermione would tell him to not fuss, that she is fine, but this time, she allows Draco to confirm for himself. When he is satisfied, Hermione stops him from leaving by stepping closer.
"Do not act rashly." She casts a glance over at where Trevor is cowering behind his wings.
Kaida is alert, as if waiting for more poison to spew from his mouth.
"I will not." Draco kneels before her, driving his blade into the earth. He peers up at her, the sun catching his blond hair. "This is not the first time Trevor has become ill from the eyes watching him."
"A timid dragon?" Hermione looks over at Trevor, alight with wonder. "Fascinating."
Draco's sigh is long-suffering. "Only you find the odd intriguing."
Hermione notices Pansy approach her betrothed.
Prince Neville stops when he sees her. What he says next is lost to the breeze and screams, the dying grass and melting fabric. He awkwardly wipes the sweat off his brow with the handkerchief she offers.
Trevor takes flight, morosely roaring as he flies over the pair.
"Kaida." Draco's voice perks her up. "Ethim."
It is not until they are at the doorway of the palace that Hermione understands the command.
Kaida sets fire to everything the poison touched.
Once the celebration resumes, following the chaos, Prince Neville stares at his betrothed for the better part of the day. He is tongue-tied when she speaks to him, yet over-explains his betrothal gift—an eternal plant.
It is extremely rare and barely a sprout.
When Pansy stares at the pot in open confusion before the entire court, sweat appears on Neville's brow.
"It-it can survive for thousands of years in the desert. And as long as it is alive, it never stops growing."
What remains unsaid is the key point, something Hermione has learned from Vasades.
Like love, this plant is eternal. It will grow slowly yet last ten lifetimes.
The deeper meaning is lost on Pansy, who is coy and dismissive. But perhaps it will not matter.
Pansy's eyes track Prince Neville around the room as he introduces his party to other members of Court, letting them mingle while he talks to the knights he seems familiar with. The Neville from the formal introductions changes, piquing Hermione's curiosity. Harry claps him on the back like they are familiar, and he shares a joke with Goldstein, who laughs so loud it draws Daphne's attention.
But most suspicious is Draco.
Hermione can excuse his behaviour at first. He is king and ally to the Longbottom Kingdom. But when the prince earns one of the king's rare, comfortable looks, Hermione squints.
"Are the prince and king… friends?"
Pansy averts her eyes to cover that she has been staring. "They have known each other since Draco was insufferable—not that he is much better now, but he was worse leading to Queen Narcissa's death. He used to terrorise Prince Neville with a wooden sword for fun."
With the burdens he carries, a mad father and dead mother, it does not surprise Hermione that he was terrible and misplaced his anger.
It is a habit he has not yet broken.
"Neville, along with your brother, were there when King Lucius cut his face."
Hermione inhales sharply. "I know fragments, but not the entire story."
"I did not witness the incident first-hand, but when King Lucius attacked Draco, he was alone. He tried to subdue his father, which is why he ended up cut. Neville entered the hall, and found them first. He was not armed at the time, he was bringing herbs he had foraged to the elves. He charged at Lucius and earned several cuts on his back while dragging Draco away before more harm came to him."
For all his nerves, she commends the prince's bravery.
All for a boy that once bullied him terribly.
"Potter and Draco's knights came in looking for him and subdued his father. An elf found Firenze, who healed him." Pansy appears grateful. "Draco owes the same life debt to Neville as he does to your brother, but it has turned into friendship, however reluctant it may be. They could not be more different."
"And what do you think of the prince?" Hermione asks. "Do you find him amiable?"
Pansy takes a sip from her goblet. "I have known him since we were children, but I have not seen him since Draco's coronation. He has grown into someone tolerable, I suppose."
Neville smiles at Harry. Like his eyes, it is kind and warm. There is a sharpness and uncertainty as well.
Pansy's cheeks turn the same shade as the ruby in her crown.
"Just tolerable?" Hermione teases. "There is no need to be coy. You are to marry him."
A barrage of scowls volley in her direction, but she softens as Goldstein all but shoves Neville towards them.
"Ugly plant aside, I am not indifferent to the idea of this marriage. Or him. He is tall and softer than I thought I would prefer, but…" Pansy lowers her voice when Lavender stops talking and stares in their direction. "I am no besotted…"
Her words die on Neville's arrival.
She sits up straighter when he nervously but bravely asks for her hand.
To dance.
It is not until Prince Neville begins to relax after a dance and conversation with Pansy—that does not end haplessly—that Hermione sees hints of the man from the stories.
The feast continues, a boisterous and loud affair of celebration and fellowship. Draco uses the distraction to call a small counsel to his private reading room. With the mirror destroyed by Snape, it is a safe haven she and the king use to speak on topics they do not want overheard.
Hermione is prepared to remain behind at the feast, but Draco requests her attendance by excusing her from conversation with Ginny and several of her Ladies, using a private walk as a cover.
Theo, Harry, Percy, and Pansy are arranged at the circular table. They rise in unison before Draco gestures for them to sit. Prince Neville enters, escorted by Goldstein and Goyle, who exit immediately to stand guard.
Draco absently reaches for Hermione—to take her hand or rest his palm on her thigh as he did during the banquet—but he withdraws suddenly, adjusting his rings instead. Their chairs are close enough for her gown to touch him. It is easy to place her hand on his thigh. Draco glances at her from the corner of his eye but he does not move away.
Neville takes the final seat. "Is this everyone?"
The question is directed at Harry, of all people. Hermione frowns at her brother, but he ignores her.
Harry nods, then scratches the scar on his head. "Who knows about us being chosen? Outside of my parents, wife, Lady Astoria, and Lady Daphne—who remain behind to monitor the feast, should anything happen—this is it. We will inform them of what you told me later."
"Told you what?" Draco does not like to be the last to know anything.
"A Dementor attacked my envoy. I did not tell you upon my arrival as you warned about the eyes and ears in your castle." Neville leans forward, folding his hands on the table. "The driver died of shock, but I took over before we crashed." Imagining such a situation is intense and terrifying. Pansy appears to size up the reserved man under a different lens. "I used a Patronus Charm to banish it."
"I have never seen a free Dementor before." Draco frowns. "They are typically allies of the kingdom they serve, and each ruler is tasked to regulate their population. The ones belonging to the kingdoms we defeated were distributed, still paid with souls."
How many souls will it take to satiate their hunger?
Hermione thinks of the empty dungeon cells, the rotting decay and stench of misery.
"What about the one that attacked Harry, Sirius, and Lavender?" Hermione asks.
"Banished from the palace after it would not tell who sent it," Harry answers quickly.
"How do you communicate with a Dementor?"
"Shielding your thoughts and protection charms to prevent them from attacking." Percy shudders. "With the Dementor that went rogue, wards were set to prevent its return. Dementors do not do well on their own. They starve and die. The assumption was that it would meet that fate."
"Send scouts and troops to canvas the area of the attack," Draco says. "It sounds like the assumption was premature."
"I will assist with pinpointing the location," Neville offers. "This is not the first odd attack I have experienced. There have been strange things happening on my island. The merpeople and selkies complain of their young being taken; rumours of Inferi sightings on the old battlefields that roam northeast."
That would put this kingdom in their path.
She glances at Draco and Harry. They both realise this.
"Nature is imbalanced and restless," Neville says. "It worsens."
"We have had several Inferi sightings since my return from war." Draco is dismissive in a way Hermione does not like. "They are the animated bones of soldiers we defeated in battle. They roam the forests and the lands, but only attack me."
"Who controls them?" Pansy asks.
"Could be anyone with a talent for necromancy." Percy pauses to think. "Grindelwald was the only necromancer I knew of, but like anything, it is a skill someone can learn with either a natural inclination or a tool that can assist them, make them stronger, and more susceptible to the art."
Hermione taps her chin. "Like the Resurrection Stone?"
Everyone looks at her.
"It is not an impossibility," Theo says, speaking up for the first time. "But it would take time to master such an art. Years. Also, they would have to know how to corrupt the stone in such a way to bend it to their will. I do not know if there is any enemy capable of such a feat. Voldemort is not yet strong enough, but—"
"Much time has passed in Draco's absence," Pansy points out.
"It is impossible to kill what no longer lives." Percy shifts in his seat. "But an experienced necromancer would not carry the same fear of death, the same miseries as someone else."
"They hate fire," Hermione recalls. "Harry and I happened upon one in the forest near our home when we were eleven."
"No." Harry begins to correct her then flushes. "Oh wait, you are right. It was the same year as the basilisk in the town's sewers. Nobody believed you until you were petrified."
Hermione winces at the sheer amount of information he tells freely to those he trusts.
She wonders what all he has told Draco.
Pansy looks aghast, a hand on her chest. "What the hell was your childhood?"
"One near death experience after the next, thanks to Voldemort." With her memories intact and more knowledgeable of the truth, Hermione can credit their adventures to him.
"Sending his followers our way to test, to figure out if I am who they believe. It is why you were tortured, Hermione. For confirmation. To unlock your mind." Harry sounds terribly sorry for what she endured. "We duelled and he knows, so it is only a matter of time before we meet again."
"We will be ready." Draco's jaw is set with tension.
A weighted silence envelops the room; a realisation of the dangers that approach.
"Wait." Neville breaks it with wide-eyed amazement. "How did you defeat an Inferi at eleven?"
"Potter's dumb luck," Draco drawls with a roll of his eyes.
"Actually, it was Hermione who realised they avoided fire." There is an almost childish quality to his response. "I was the diversion, like usual, and she shot it with a fiery arrow."
Theo and Pansy are visibly impressed. Draco tilts his head. Percy smirks, unsurprised. Harry brims with brotherly pride.
Hermione is silenced by a dawning realisation.
Mother taught them to fight with weapons and wit.
She concealed it as a sport.
Father told tales ad nauseam.
They turned out to be true.
Vasades made her learn the history she will not repeat, and how to heal and use the world to guide her way. Hermione's education exceeded both what was customary for a woman of her station and her natural born quest for knowledge.
Each lesson was intentional.
They quietly moulded her into who she was destined to become.
A queen.
A survivor.
They created her.
Generational secrets plague their family, but they prepared her and Harry for the fallout as well as they could, cleverly giving them the tools to survive without breaking their oath.
Hermione's respect is endless.
Humbling.
"I did not know you were an archer," Pansy whispers.
"I was taught by Vasades, encouraged by my mother," Hermione admits, lowering her head until she remembers herself. She sits straighter. Prouder. "But that is not the point. It sounds like trouble has spread to other kingdoms."
"What are your troubles?" Neville inquires.
"The unicorn murders have been solved," Draco says. "They turned out to be Voldemort feeding off their blood. Bellatrix lives but is blind. She is Obliviated and in the care of my aunt."
Prince Neville looks shocked.
"We are sending centaurs to beast and being herds in the kingdom to convince them to not ally with Voldemort, but we have lost a few groups of neutrals. Not to mention, we were attacked in the forest by Voldemort."
Neville turns sharply to Harry. "Your letters made no mention of any of this."
He smiles sheepishly. "I had to be discreet."
"Greyback, the new alpha of a werewolf pack, has been terrorising the people from the Lost Kingdom. They have taken refuge in my kingdom," Neville says.
"Are the Unspeakables still hidden?" Harry asks.
"Yes. They are around, hidden as always." Neville rubs the back of his neck. "They report to Dumbledore that Voldemort has been busy."
"He has," Draco replies carefully. "What did Dumbledore tell you about the Deathly Hallows?"
"Not much. Only that once Voldemort's soul and body are reunited, he will seek them out for power, to become the master of death before he sets out to conquer the realm."
"Dumbledore speaks as though it will happen." Pansy sits back, face awash in confusion. "Like he does not believe Voldemort will be stopped."
Maybe Dumbledore does not wish for him to be stopped until it best suits him.
Hermione's eyes cut to Harry first, then Draco, who reacts with clenched fists as if she has projected the thought into his mind.
The room is silent.
"I still have my cloak hidden," Harry says. "Dumbledore has the Elder Wand. Any new leads on the Resurrection Stone?"
"We have followed every clue and narrowed it to a cluster of villages in the old Avery lands, but came up with nothing." Frustration edges Neville's even-tempered voice. "I have done all I can and cannot ask other allies for more. They grow distrustful."
Hermione knows why: six kingdoms have fallen to the Malfoy Kingdom since Draco became king.
No one believes they are safe.
Neville shifts in his seat again. "They grow restless and believe my grandmother is naïve to trust you."
"They must remain in the dark until we destroy Voldemort," Draco says firmly. "The last conclave ten years ago did not go in our favour. They did not believe he was still alive then, and they ignore all the signs of his return now. Ignorance is bliss."
"Your father was mad when he met with them, but you are not," Harry's argument earns him a scathing look from Draco. "You should summon the kings and queens of the realm and present your evidence. Allow them to vote to take up arms. This does not have to be our war."
"Yes it does." Draco sits back, voice cold and commanding. "Adding more elements allows more opportunities for errors and betrayals. We will continue our pursuit to capture him, but divert a few knights to find the Resurrection Stone and hide it."
"If it has not already been found," Harry whispers.
"How did you search for the stone?" Hermione asks Neville, mind humming with every scrap of new information. "It would involve you going into kingdoms that are not your own. People would see, and word would spread of the Longbottom Kingdom travelling beyond their lands."
"We disguised ourselves as Malfoy Kingdom knights and soldiers."
Smart, but that does not answer her question. "Did you talk to people? The Resurrection Stone brings back the shade of a loved one. Like in the story, it will drive the one who holds it to madness. They will reunite with the one they see in death. When you searched its last known location, did you speak to the townspeople?"
"We did, but they did not talk."
"You were dressed as soldiers of a kingdom that has conquered a substantial amount of the realm in a short amount of time. Fear likely kept them silent and guarded. An object like that will not travel far, it will be kept hidden. Rather than searching like a soldier or a royal, send those who are subtle and can blend in. Perhaps task a local and pay them handsomely for the risk you ask them to take. You might find what you seek."
Neville blinks in surprise. "I-I will do that."
"What should we do in the meantime?" Percy places a hand on the book he brought with him.
"My rule is threatened here," Draco says bluntly. "Missing soldiers, numbers that grow by the day. I have not been outright attacked since the poison attempt, but there are as many whispers as Inferi out there. Until we root out the conspirators, as I believe there may be more than one, we must be careful. We cannot allow information to escape."
"My grandmother is aware of your internal troubles. That is why I am here." Neville casts a shy glance at Pansy. "Our marriage will afford your kingdom security in the form of a distraction. The final treaty will draw attention from the Longbottom allies, but we must. Is Voldemort—"
"He is not quite alive and possesses the body of my willing uncle." Draco states this as casually as one might recall the uses of unicorn hair.
"We should also remember that Hermione turned his original host to dust from her touch," Harry supplies helpfully.
"And let us not leave out Voldemort wanting to perform a ritual using Harry to give him a body," Hermione adds. When they look at her, she shrugs. "I remember everything."
Too much, sometimes.
Neville's eyes are wide, jaw slack. "Any idea what ritual that is?"
"As soon as Daphne recounted this from the night they were taken, I scoured the palace library on dark magic for such a spell." Percy opens his book to a page that has an extra piece of parchment in its crease. "A regeneration potion is one option, and a resurrection spell is another. Both are difficult and deadly if there are errors. This is an old piece of incredibly dark magic."
"What are the ingredients?" Hermione tries to read Percy's handwriting upside down.
"Water and a cauldron large enough to fit a person. One bone taken unknowingly from the father, flesh willingly sacrificed by a servant, and blood forcibly extracted from a foe. Harry, I presume. He can use any enemy blood he wants, but—"
"Harry bears his mark, whereas Prince Neville does not." Theo looks at the prince and amends his statement, "At least not in the technical sense."
"Voldemort has not learned from his hubris," Neville quips.
"Men like that often do not." Hermione frowns. "Bones of the father... Where is Voldemort's father buried?"
"No one knows," Percy replies.
"Surely the Gaunt Kingdom keeps records."
"It will take time. I am friendly with the Shacklebolts, who now rule the land. I will leave in the morning and search their hall of records."
Draco nods in approval.
"We cannot control his servant." Theo picks up where Hermione left off. "However, in order to not get your blood—"
"After I visit my parents' tomorrow, I will remain in the palace." Harry does not look happy. "How do we plan for an attack when we do not know when or how it will come?"
"Do not plan." Theo stares at the book. "Let us use the information we know and control what we can. No matter when or how Voldemort and his followers attack, he is no Seer. We must find the flaw in his design."
As he has been for the last hour, Draco is the solid presence behind Hermione.
"You have been quiet since we left everyone."
"It was a lot to take in," she confesses, still categorising, marrying together what she knows and what she has learned. "Where does my brother fit into the royal alliance he does not know he is part of?"
Draco steps back, surprised by her question.
A glance over her shoulder provides the sight of him removing his cloak. He is naked when he returns. Feeling him makes her shiver, especially when he murmurs into her hair, "Is he not a Prince?"
"Of a lost kingdom. You know Harry well. Like my father, he does not seek power."
Draco hums, peeling the silk robe off her shoulders.
It pools around her feet.
Her sheer gown joins it.
They are naked together.
Hermione feels his cock nudge against her back, but with the singular focus she is praised for, she ignores his hard muscles and the warmth of his body—all in favour of their conversation. "He will never bend, no matter how many discussions he attends. We Potters are stubborn."
"Aggravatingly so, I am afraid. But due to his bloodline, the land is still one he can access. He is heir to the throne. Magic and nature know this, even if he does not wish to acknowledge it. He was chosen. He needs to be part of the discussion."
"Nature?"
She wonders if nature has known all along; if it feels Voldemort's growing presence and knows his victory will alter the balance beyond repair. Perhaps the shifts and disturbances over the years have been a warning from a being older than time or magic.
Nature sees all and will protect itself at all costs.
"You have stopped speaking." Draco kisses her neck with a tenderness that she is not yet familiar with. And neither is he. "Are you finished arguing?"
"For now."
"Good. Come to bed."
Although recovered from their first exploratory efforts, Draco does not act once they are beneath the sheets. Instead, he does something better. Moving closer on his own, he touches her without intent, running a hand up and down her bare back for so long she begins to drift to sleep.
At this moment, Hermione sees the difference between Draco the king and Draco the man.
Perhaps they are not always the same.
"Day by day, I begin to understand my father's madness," Draco whispers with a soft ferocity that stills her breath. "The terrible things I would do for you without a second's hesitation."
"And if I desire peace?"
"Then you will have it, Little Lion." An endearment rather than a curse. He kisses her bare skin.
"We will have it."
They stare at each other.
"Your thoughts are invasive to my senses, but I can tune them out," Draco confesses. "Your emotions are something new that I have felt since last night."
"Perhaps it is our bond," Hermione says, voicing the curiosity that has followed her since learning of its existence. "I felt you telling me to move in the field when we were under attack."
She feels the barest hint of him now.
Calm. Steady. Consistent like the presence of stars in the sky.
"Am I ever silent?" Hermione asks.
"Unfortunately, no."
She laughs at his irritated look, but wonders if, despite his many complaints to the contrary, Draco likes that she unconsciously lays herself bare to him.
He never needs to guess if she is concealing something, she hopes it is a comfort.
She rests a hand on his bare chest. "Do you truly wish for my brother to rule?"
"I do. But if left to Potter and your family, the Lost Kingdom would have no king."
"Perhaps it is best this way. Those with no blood ties cannot enter, and there has been no ruling family since its fall. Not all land needs to be ruled by man. Sometimes it is best if a place exists free of politics and power."
"Neutral territory is always an invitation for conflict."
"If you make it so," Hermione retorts gently. "There are refugees in all kingdoms. A lone king does not have enough of a claim to rule."
"Your father does."
"You cannot make someone take on a role they do not want. It benefits no one."
"We will revisit this topic another day, I am certain. For now, we leave at dawn for your parents' estate. You should rest."
Hermione falls silent, listening to the beat of his heart, feeling his fingertips on her skin, moving with the rise and fall of his chest. She should be excited about returning home, but there is a sense of trepidation she cannot pinpoint. Perhaps it is because she is returning to a place that may look the same, but without the wool over her eyes, it may feel different.
It may not feel like home at all.
The thought twists her stomach.
Hermione closes her eyes and tries to rest. She will handle this like everything else: with brave rationality.
"May I try something?" Draco whispers against her skin.
"Yes."
He moves fluidly, leaving Hermione on her back. He parts her legs and settles on his knees. Leaning forward, he catches a nipple with his mouth and suckles, using his tongue on the tip. Hermione arches, shutting her eyes and gasping when he switches to the other side to do the same.
Draco has been slow, more hesitant; afraid to overwhelm, to consume. He waits for her to take the lead, but the tide has changed since last night.
This open ease and boldness is new.
Attractive.
With hunger, Draco's mouth burns kisses down her body. Hermione is tense in anticipation. Each time she whimpers and squirms, grey eyes return to hers and he keeps going lower and lower.
"W-what do you plan to…"
The words fade when he licks two fingers and teases the folds of her cunt. She cants her hips when he slides one inside.
Hermione bites her lip and instinctively rocks on it, gasping when he adds a second.
"Even last night, your thoughts were all I could hear." His fingers curl; her breath catches. "Tonight, let me silence your mind."
His fingers emerge, slick with her. Draco takes the same sharp inhale when he sinks them inside her, deeper this time. Hermione's lips part and her legs spread wider as he starts fucking her with his fingers.
Then his tongue.
Everything fades with a gasp.
Their connection is all that remains.
Hydrus: Also known as "the lesser water snake."
A/N: Life changes still happening all around. Still a busy bee over here. Hope you enjoyed the movement of all these parts.