Chapter 34: The Weight of Silence

The trip back to Lucius' home was quiet, not because they didn't talk but because Hermione left Lucius alone on the terrace at the banquette hall. Once she returned to the house on Shadowmourne Drive, she'd head back to Maggie's Tailoring after using the portkey he had made. After that, she wasn't sure.

Her world felt tilted and jarred, and all she could think about was Maggie's lifeless body lying before her. As she replayed the night repeatedly, she couldn't help but feel like everything could have been done differently—should have been done differently. Maybe she would still be here if she hadn't pulled Maggie aside. Perhaps she would still be here if she didn't let Maggie go back inside with Charles.

When she left the banquette, her head started to pound, and the more she tried to reason with herself, the more confused she became and the more her head throbbed against her skull.

"Why would Charles kill Maggie?" She whispered under her breath. "And what happened after Maggie dragged him back inside?"

She closed her eyes and listened to the hooves tap against the pavement.

'Why?'

'Why?'

'Why?'

Suddenly, the carriage stopped, and Hermione stepped onto the concrete and headed through the black iron gate. She slowly turned the handle, anxious that Lucius might have beaten her home somehow. She just wasn't ready to see him. She wanted—no needed time away from him. She longed to be back in the sitting area at the shop, sitting across from Maggie as she boasted about her romance with Charles.

Charles.

'Why?'

She wiped a tear from her cheek and sniffled as she walked through a quiet mansion that felt suddenly too big and obnoxious for one person. She stood in the dimly lit living room and stared at the Russian nesting dolls. The pain in her chest caused her to gasp for air as she wept at the sight of them, knowing she'd be returning to an empty store and an empty home.

The sound of the handle startled her as she leaped for the dolls. She didn't know why she didn't want to see Lucius. Maybe she felt angry at him for stepping in front of her and Charles. Somewhere, deep in her belly, she felt angry at herself for ever getting involved with Lucius Malfoy, and for the first time since she left Hogwarts, she wanted nothing to do with him.

"Not right now," she told herself as the room swirled into a bland mix of black, gold, and white. Hues of blue and green began to blend as she landed softly in front of the clock in Maggie's Tailoring's main room. Her stomach tightened at the sound of silence, knowing there would be no noise this late at night or ever again.

She dropped her head, unwilling to turn around and face what she had stolen from her best friend. Everything Maggie worked so hard for seemed lost in an unfair game that Maggie didn't even volunteer to play. Slowly, Hermione turned her body away from the wall to face the inside of the main room. The two blue chairs still faced each other, and the stool in the center of the mirrored circle looked like it had been used only hours before.

Her heart sunk at the sight of the stack of papers. She turned and walked through the glass door into the kitchen, hoping the whole night was all a horrible dream and that Maggie would be inside stirring a delectable soup or making tea, but when she found nothing, she sighed.

As she passed through the store to the stairs, she turned to face the room one last time.

She inhaled. "I'm so sorry, Maggie," she said to the empty room. She exhaled, letting one last tear fall before entering her room and going to bed. She didn't bother to take her gown off. The heavy fabric pressed her deeper into her bed as she submitted to the pounding headache that would make it impossible to sleep.

It felt unfair that the sun rose on the days to follow. The moment it peaked over the rooftops across the street, Hermione groaned and pulled at the skin of her cheeks. She wasn't sure if she should open the store or leave a note on the door letting the world know they would be closed possibly forever, so the day after Maggie's death, she had written a sign to put on the door, letting the outside world know they would be closed until further notice.

During the day, she wanted to waste away in her bed, but part of her hated how much she felt sorry for herself.

Besides, I'm not the one who lost their life and their dreams.

On the fifth day, she pressed her face into her pillow and screamed—screamed until the pounding in her head returned as the tears dampened her pillow. If anyone could still hear her, she didn't care. She clutched her pillow to her stomach and rolled onto her side, watching the sky slowly change colors until the sun began to set on the other side of the store.

Her chest felt empty, and she convinced herself she was guilty as the day went on. She might as well have held the wand that killed Maggie. The moon had settled against the teal-blue sky when she finally sat up. She rubbed her eyes and spotted the trunk handle from under her bed. She imagined filling it with her things and heading back home to London, leaving her world here behind and sparing Lucius from her burden.

She shook her head, stood from her bed, and returned to an empty store to clean and organize some shelves. With each set of clothes she straightened, she wondered if Maggie was the last person to touch them and if she knew it would be the last time.

She forced the tears behind her eyes this time and started to stack the papers Maggie had printed the day before the banquette. She wiped down the top of the desk and rearranged the chairs to face the store.

Her stomach growled, and after making herself some tea, she sat at the kitchen table and held the hot mug in her palms. She had barely eaten since the night of the banquette, and she could feel herself wasting away. Her hair was knotted and greasy, and the bags under her eyes pulled on her lids. The night had finished painting the sky, and she wondered what was supposed to happen next.

What would happen to the store?

Would she need a place to live?

All of it felt trivial compared to losing Maggie.

She wondered if Lucius was worried about her. They hadn't spoken since she left him standing there on the terrace as the two men carried her friend's lifeless body out of the banquette hall. Her heart still ached for her friend, but the anger she once harbored towards Lucius had faded. She took one final sip of her tea and stood up.

She went upstairs to her room and undressed. She turned the shower to hot and let the steam fill the bathroom. She glanced at her reflection and almost lost her breath. She didn't think she looked this bad. She rubbed her eyes and tried to run her fingers through the tangled mess that was her hair.

She felt the water slam against her palm and nodded. After stepping inside, she let the water pound against her back before turning and washing her face. She watched the water trickle down the drain and realized she had forgotten when her last shower was. She felt pathetic and dirty, completely undeserving of such a hot shower while her friend remained cold. She wondered about a funeral, when it would be, and if she should go.

After washing her hair twice, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in her towel. She wiped the fog from the mirror and applied cream to her under eyes. After putting on black leggings and a grey sweatshirt, she clipped her damp ends in a small bun behind her head and tied her tennis shoes tight. She descended the stairs and looked at the clock on the wall. She walked towards it and stared at the time.

9:03 PM

She slowly opened the door to the store, careful not to jingle the bell above it. She didn't want anyone nearby to hear that someone was inside the store. As she began her walk, she thought back to the night she had worn her disguise, remembering the pounding in her heart as she swiftly dodged the sight of the death eater that had awaited her. Only now did she know the man behind the cloak must have been Charles.

Her walk was brisk as the ends of her hair began to dry. The lamps above her were lit along the streets as she passed all the businesses with dark windows. She crossed the bridge out of Hogsmeade and started up the hill. Once she reached the top, her thighs and calves felt like Jell-O, no doubt from her lack of movement over the last couple of days. Her ankles felt strained as she passed the first street, but the ache dulled as she turned down Shadowmourne.

She strolled by every large house, taking every step deliberately so as not to rush. The house at the end of the street approached quickly, and she still didn't know what to say or if she should say anything. As she stopped in front of the iron gate, she admired the glow of the white rose bushes before letting herself through. Two windows were lit: one above her and the one next to the large front door.

She gripped the knocker and tapped lightly, wondering if Lucius would answer. It had been almost a week since she saw him, and he hadn't bothered to contact her. If he was upset with her, he had every right to be.

When footsteps rang in her ears, she dropped her head. She almost wished he wasn't home. For some reason, she was embarrassed. She had grown pale, and her eyes were sunken with the terrifying bags that hung beneath them. Her hair was thin but at least washed, and her figure had shrunk. Lucius opened the door in a pair of black sweats and a plain black T-shirt. His eyes were sunken with dark circles hanging beneath them, and his hair was combed back and away from his face.

She glanced up, but her head shot back down to her feet when she saw his melancholy expression.

"I'm sorry for showing up like this," she said quietly. She waited for him to say something, but when nothing came, she continued. "I almost used the portkey, but figured I shouldn't just randomly appear after not seeing you for days."

She felt small under his gaze, and his silence was unbearable.

He cleared his throat. "Would you like to come in then?" He stepped aside and allowed her to pass.

She walked into the house and stopped before entering the living room. Even though Lucius was quiet, she was relieved to return to this place. It felt familiar, and after losing Maggie, this place was the closest she had to a home.

She sat on the oversized lavendar couch as Lucius took the loveseat diagonal from her. It felt strange that she wasn't sitting beside him, and the space between them felt strained. She looked down at her hands as she folded them in her lap. She wondered if she should have come.

"I'm glad you're here, Hermione." The warmth in his voice sent shivers down her spine and the way he said her name made her want to melt into the couch. But she didn't let it get her hopes up. Lucius' expression was still dismal, but she still couldn't help but smile. She was relieved.

"I'm sorry for getting upset at the banquette. I was so upset after losing Maggie that I couldn't control my anger. But I'm glad you stopped me. I don't think attacking Charles would have made it better."

"I feel the same way," he said as he nodded.

"Yeah."

The room fell quiet again, but she waited for Lucius this time. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat before his eyes settled on her.

"I'm so sorry," he finally said.

She clenched her fists and tried to suppress her tears. She swallowed down her sadness and pity and shook her head. "It's my fault. All of it," she admitted. The belief was becoming second nature, and for the first time, she felt okay with it.

"It isn't your fault, Hermione. I don't want you to say that anymore." His words felt more like an order than a suggestion, and her heart jumped at his demanding tone.

"You and I both played our parts that night, but the one at fault is now rotting in Azkaban, where he belongs, and I know it's not enough. But you didn't hold the wand. There was nothing you could do. Once Charles had it in his mind to kill Maggie, there was nothing any of us could do."

It was too late. A single tear fell from Hermione's chin, and she whispered. "But why?"

Lucius went silent again, confused at what she was asking, until she asked again.

"Why did he kill Maggie? She didn't deserve it! She was innocent in all of this." Her words were spoken in gasps as she let her sobs fill the quiet living room. She put her cheeks into her hands and hid her eyes with her fingers. She inhaled as her shoulders shook, but when Lucius sat beside her, warmth spread across her back and helped her relax a little.

"Do you remember what I said about the Death Eaters, Hermione?"

She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve and met his gaze. His overcast-colored eyes were beautiful—breathtaking even as she tried to listen.

"When the Death Eaters go after someone, their goal is to torture them slowly—to kill and tarnish what they love the most. Charles went after Maggie because he knew he couldn't get to you. He killed Maggie because he knew you loved her the most, but that doesn't mean it's your fault. Your love for Maggie didn't get her killed. It was the hate in Charle's heart."

Her mouth opened as her eyes grew wide in shock. She remembered the night Lucius told her he loved her and how the danger they were facing suddenly made sense. She closed her eyes and tried to take in his words.

"Promise me you'll never blame yourself again."

She choked. "But Lucius—

He grabbed her wrists as his lips crashed onto hers. Immediately, she submitted to him, letting their kiss be the only thing she felt for now. His grip on her was tight, but she loved every bit of it. Tears threatened to streak her cheeks again, but she swallowed hard and let Lucius take her to a safe place in his embrace. The world around them seemed to fade into the background as his hands moved up her arms and found the nape of her neck.

She missed this.

She missed him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening their kiss until they were pressed against each other. When they finally parted, Lucius leaned his forehead against hers.

"Promise me," he said gently.

She had to think momentarily, her brain in a daze after their delectable kiss, but she finally remembered what Lucius had said moments before.

She closed her eyes. "Yes," she whispered. "I promise."