Dusk was falling over the Empire, bathing the sky in shades of crimson, topaz and lavender. The trees were bare of leaves, except for the pine trees that stretched their snowy tips skywards.
Hermione was sitting at the edge of the courtyard where she had first seen Harry's dead body. Arthur sat next to her, and the two of them watched the sky ignite through the stone pillars. The black silhouettes of people swarmed across the grounds, there were frequent plops of Apparition. She had the feeling that something was happening, but maybe it was just an event at Town Hall.
"It's been a week," she said, talking to the sky. The tip of her nose was red with the cold, but she relished the bite of it. She wondered how much colder she would be if there weren't any wards.
Arthur exhaled, the puff of his breath swirling in front of him. "All I can think about is Ron going through it. How did he manage—after."
"He passed the second game?" Air was stuck in her throat.
Arthur looked somber. "I asked Draco. A while ago. I needed to know."
She nodded, wringing her hands together. "How are you? Managing, I mean?" She eyed him from the side. His face was gaunt and weary, and the light in his eyes had dimmed. There was a permanent harshness to his mouth.
"I keep telling myself I did it for Molly. For my family."
"Does it help?"
He swallowed. "Sometimes."
She did her best to ignore the pang in her chest, the constant reminder of what she had done. Her irreparable choices. The hate she felt had established itself inside of her, festering in her heart. She felt it every day, like an illness, a blister.
She had touched the fork a lot—she slept with it clutched in her fist, hoping that her unconscious thrashing during the nights would end up hurting her. This way, she wouldn't have to hurt herself consciously.
But it didn't happen. The fork hovered in her mind every day, still. Maybe she should have given it back, considering it was now a temptation. But she needed the choice. She needed the possibility to choose every painful day to be The Resilient One.
"Do you think we're going mad?" The question had slipped from her and she bit her tongue.
Arthur searched the sky for his answer, and she waited patiently. Seconds ticked by. A minute. Then his eyes dropped to his boots."Everyone inside the Empire is either already mad, or slowly going insane."
She felt nothing, not a single jolt of despair or the throb of loneliness. There was a loud plop not too far from the castle and she strained her neck to see where it came from, but she couldn't see.
"I'm glad you're still here," she said softly after a minute.
His smile was filled with sadness as he hooped his arm around her shoulders. "Do you get enough sleep?"
She shook her head. She hadn't slept well since before Christmas. "No, but I like it better this way. It fogs up my mind. It helps to numb."
Arthur sighed deeply as his head bobbed. He understood.
"But I'm telling you." Her voice bared some strength, a spark of vehemence. "We'll burn it down." He looked at her, inspecting her face. "We'll burn the whole Empire down. With the help of the Order. And Draco. And Theo."
Theo hadn't spoken to her during the whole week. She was fine with it. She wasn't expecting him to forgive her so soon. She couldn't even forgive herself. Right before Draco left her room mid-week, she had told him she needed a little time to adjust to this new reality. She had told him she needed time with herself, and time with both Arthur and Reine to process her trauma.
What she didn't tell him was that she also needed to process their… thing.Whenever she compelled her mind to think about Them, or their Relationship or their Status, her thoughts started whirring in overdrive and she numbed everything.
So she hadn't seen Draco since they had last kissed. Tomorrow, he would train them again.
The sky was dimming now, the colours slowly bleeding into one another. The wind carried distant echoes of shouts and Hermione imagined that two Death Eaters might have engaged in a duel somewhere.
She turned her head so she could see his face. "We'll do it before Numberland has its champion. This way it won't come down to you or me. We'll both get out of here."
He squeezed her tighter. He left before the sun completely disappeared behind the hills, and she was left alone on the cold stone, contemplating the sky. It wasn't time for curfew yet, and she thought that a stroll near the Lake would do her some good.
She left and walked down a path until she realised her feet hadn't led her to the Lake. People were running by her, ignoring her like she was a ghost, and there were yells. She didn't understand.
What were they running from?
What were they running to?
She walked aimlessly for what seemed like twenty minutes, trying to catch distinct snippets of conversations. But it was mostly names.
Flint left thirty minutes ago!
Where's Rosier?
Side-Along with Cavanaugh, and report back!
Tell Dolohov that Bullstrode is coming!
She was shivering in the cold, arms crossed around herself, watching it happen around her. Wondering if she had the right to ask what was happening.
Where was Draco?
A bark she recognized all too well made her heart jump. She looked out into the falling night and spotted Keela trotting towards her. The dog looked nervous, like she couldn't stay put. Her ears were flicking in the direction of all the noises at the same time.
She licked her hand.
"Hey, girl, what's going on?" Surely, that meant Draco was near.
"Miss Granger?" A voice, low and poised, drifted out of the path leading to Cindermore.
Hermione knew that voice. It clicked instantly.
That woman had given her her uniform and dressed her up for Christmas. She had seen her naked and scrubbed her skin clean.
Draco's mother appeared. Narcissa—yes, that was her name. She was tall and self-assured, walking with a decisive step. Her sharp features were strikingly similar to Draco's, and Hermione stared. Her shoulders were wrapped in a navy cloak that fell to her ankles, and her venetian hair were braided.
"Erm—hi," she scratched the top of Keela's head absently.
Narcissa stopped right in front of her and narrowed her eyes at her. "What are you doing here?"
"I-I heard some shouting, and I didn't know—"
"You shouldn't be here."
Hermione closed her mouth. Around them, blurry figures scurried by. Town Hall's doors were wide open, and light was streaming out on the grass.
"What's happening?" she asked. "Where's Draco?"
Narcissa's eyes focused on her face, reading her like a scroll. Her lips were thin. She sighed loudly, a sharp breath curling out of her mouth.
"There was a breach at the Ministry." Her gaze swept the grounds quickly, not stopping on anything or anyone. "Draco had to leave. I'm trying to figure out the details."
"He left? When?" Hermione's heartbeat was quickening, thumping loud against her ribs. A breach at the Ministry—that was probably the Order's doing? Keela's tongue licked her knuckles again.
Narcissa paused before answering, her piercing eyes flitting between hers. "About twenty minutes ago."
At this point, it didn't matter to Hermione if she was showing that she cared for Draco. His mother was probably the first person to share her worry.
"I was trying to find Yaxley. Have you seen him by any chance?"
Hermione absently scratched an itch on her nose. "No, sorry."
Narcissa sighed, looking annoyed but notather, then looked around again. "Very well." Her eyes focused back on her, pinning her into place. "Would you care to wait for him with me, Miss Granger?"
Hermione's mouth went agape for a second. No one in the Empire even glanced at her when she was strolling the grounds. She didn't know how to feel about waiting for Draco with his mother. There was no connection whatsoever between them.
"Erm—" she frowned. "Is this allowed?"
Narcissa scoffed. "There are no rules about your whereabouts. And even then…" She didn't finish her sentence and Hermione swallowed.
"Okay."
Narcissa nodded shortly. "Would you mind staying with Keela while I go to Town Hall for a minute?"
"Of course."
As Draco's mother marched to Town Hall with a decisive step, Hermione sniffed. Her nose was running slightly with the cold. Keela watched Narcissa enter the rectangle building and whined.
"It's okay, girl," Hermione soothed, getting on one knee to be at the dog's level, hands buried in her collar to control their shaking. "She's coming back. You know me, right?" A smile tore at her lips—her voice had turned silly and high-pitched. That was probably the only way to speak to animals.
Hermione felt closer to Keela since she had cried in the Room of Requirement with her. Draco's dog was the only living thing that had witnessed her ugliest, unfiltered cries.
The dog sat, suddenly calm, and her ears stopped jerking in all directions. Their eyes met in the darkness, only illuminated by the lanterns and orange lights scattered around the Empire's buildings down the path to Cindermore.
Keela's gleaming dark eyes latched onto hers. Her muzzle was close—she looked serious and solid. And as Hermione probed her back, trying to understand what was behind those hazel eyes, a rift opened inside of her, from a corner she couldn't reach or comprehend. A cavity under her feet, widening and widening and widening—
And then her cheeks were wet.
Her arms were around the dog's neck again.
Keela's warmth seeped into her skin and she remained still. Hermione matched her breathing with hers and cried in her fur, trying to understand where this was all coming from. Why was a dog coaxing this many emotions out of her?
Slowly going insane.
Around her, footsteps hurried by, meaningless names were shouted, cloaks were clapping in the wind.
"Miss Granger." Narcissa's voice was soft, but startled her.
She straightened up quickly and turned her face to brush away her treacherous tears, then wiped her nose on her sleeve.
Narcissa gave her a few polite seconds, then nodded. "Come."
Hermione followed her quietly and the three of them winded down the path. Her chest was hollow, like none of its usual components were there. Her breaths were ragged, hitched in the back of her throat.
Narcissa hadn't asked her if she was okay—
Because she knew.
Obviously she wasn't okay, but Narcissa knew that nothing would never be okay for a player anymore. She had the decency to not pretend.
They entered Cindermore through the gates about fifteen minutes later, and Narcissa guided her deeper in the spiral. Hermione's eyes stopped on Macnair House—her parents were probably still there. But she had had no news about her deal with Voldemort.
The steps on the porch creaked and Narcissa opened the door to Malfoy House. Hermione assessed the space—she had expected something more like the Manor. Something darker, colder, with impressive architectural pieces and furniture that couldn't be touched. The house felt like a home and she could tell it was lived in.
"Keela doesn't like to venture much farther in," Narcissa commented as she removed her cloak at the entrance. "I have a cat."
She removed her boots although she wasn't asked to. It just felt wrong to walk around with them. Keela sat near the door.
Narcissa led her to the living room. She looked at the plate of pastries and the two cups. A half-eaten lemon tart had been abandoned on a porcelain saucer.
"You can sit. I'll rewarm some tea." Narcissa took the teapot and disappeared.
"You had company?"
"Draco was here right before Theodore summoned him," Narcissa answered from the kitchen.
Hermione examined the half-eaten tart, where his lips had torn the pastry in two. Maybe she could taste him if she took a bite of it.
Snowflake walked into the room, observing the newcomer with a wide stare. He sat right beside the mahogany low table and royally ignored her. Her eyes started drifting about the room, noting the objects displayed, the decoration style, the personality it was giving. A familiar design caught her eye in the shape of a thick book on the couch end table.
An unlit candle was resting on its cover.
Hermione took it just as Narcissa was coming back with the teapot and another cup. "Oh—yes, Draco told me you love to read." Her tone didn't lower as it normally would if her sentence was finished. Like she had paused mid-way because she realised her words had slipped out.
But Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from the book, roaming across its cover.
The Chronicles of Narnia.
"I've read it," Narcissa added, sitting on the loveseat and serving the tea. "Have you? I mean, the seven of them."
Hermione looked at the book, the seven volumes in one. "I read them a long time ago. Before I even knew I had… magic."
Narcissa's face softened and she smiled. "Yes, they're wonderful stories. Did you know C.S. Lewis was a Muggle-born? But he wrote for Muggles."
"Of course," she breathed out. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that Narcissa was gushing about one of her favourite authors.
Her heart was drumming with excitement in her chest.
She cleared her throat. "Mrs. Malfoy… could I—can I borrow your book?"
Hermione woke with a jolt when a hand brushed her hairline. Her heart leapt painfully with fear at the sight of someone standing right before her. Her brain shut down, and her body reacted.
A sound between a gasp and a scream broke out of her, and she pushed the stranger away with brutal force.
"Shhh, Granger, it's me." Draco was speaking in hushed tones, very softly and gently. She could discern him in the weak light of dawn bathing the living room. The sight of him sparked a burning in her core, because he was here, he was alive. A different smell was clinging to his clothes—a faint scent of mildew, of something rotting. Voldemort's fog.
It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't bothering her since it was subdued.
In her abrupt awakening, she had sat up halfway, and her heart was still pounding in her chest. There was a blanket strewn over her body, and Draco was kneeling in front of the couch, eye-level with her.
His hand returned on her head with a reassuring touch. "I really didn't mean to scare you."
"Hey," she whispered. Then her memory caught up with her. "Are you okay? I've heard that the Ministry—"
He shushed her softly, mere inches from her face. "I'm fine. I was exposed to the fog and spent the last hours with a Healer."
A swell of panic tightened her chest as she propped herself on her elbow. "What happened?" Her hand reached for him, touching his shoulder. Keela was belly-down on the rug, head on her paws but eyes open. "Maybe you shouldn't train—"
"There won't be any training today." She was about to ask why, but he continued. "A lot of our people died. High Gamemasters, High Scavengers, Scavengers, Death Eaters…"
Air left her lungs at once. "Is Theo—"
"He's fine."
She exhaled with relief, trying to slow down her heartbeat. "What happened?"
He considered his answer, looking down. "The Order is working with Muggles. They had guns—so many of them. Gas masks. They breached the Ministry's wards and stole the cauldron's ember and some fog samples."
"The cauldron's ember?" That's the question that flew out of her lips, but her head was echoing guns, so many—guns, so many.
His thumb stroked her forehead gently. "I was hoping you'd know what it was." He blinked slowly, heavy-lidded. "You're the first person I wanted to see."
She swallowed the thrill crawling up her windpipe. "So the fog was brewed?" She was trying to understand what kind of potion could create this.
"Yes."
"It's been brewing for all these years?"
"Yes."
She was mentally trying to flip the pages of her knowledge. "Cauldrons are normally lit with fire. Not embers… What did it look like?"
"A glowing orb. Small. It could fit in your palm."
"An orb?" Her voice rose with surprise and she quieted herself by pressing her mouth against Draco's wrist. "Sorry."
"My mother's out like a troll when she sleeps," he said, and his eyes glinted with intensity, falling on her mouth.
"An ember orb, then," she thought out loud, back to whispering. "I have no idea what this is."
They stayed in silence for a minute, lost in theories, trying to scour their mind and dust off their academic memories.
"I wish Snape was still here," he mumbled. "He would know."
A sudden ache nagged at her chest and she scrambled to a sitting position, placing her elbows on her knees so her face was directly in front of his.
"Draco, do you know how Snape died?" she murmured, frowning. It had occurred to her that maybe nobody had told him what happened in the Boathouse.
He stiffened and removed his hands from her. "He was killed during the Battle."
The sting in her chest sharpened. "But do you know how?"
"Someone from the Order." His voice was cold, dripping with hostility. Keela lifted her head, ears pointed at them.
Hermione dropped her head in her hands in defeat and closed her eyes. "No… No. They lied to you."
He softly grabbed both of her wrists and pulled them away from her face. His brows were deeply creased, and his stare was shaded with anger. "Tell me."
She hesitated—maybe he wouldn't believe her. Maybe he would choose to believe whatever story someone had told him.
But she owed him the truth.
"Would you believe me?" she said, her voice like a wisp of air.
His traits hardened, eyes unwavering. "I will always believe you."
She trembled. "Voldemort killed him." The words tumbled out of her mouth as her vision blurred. "Nagini did, actually."
The shock on Draco's face was striking. His features contorted with controlled fury. "What?"
"I was there when it happened, I was with—Harry." Her best friend's name snagged in her throat.
Draco was agitated, his eyes quickly flitting between both of hers. Outside, dawn was spilling over the crests of the hills, drenching the sky with a lighter shade of yellow across the horizon.
His throat bobbed. "I don't—what? Why—"
"Draco, I—" She drew a sharp breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. A tangible conviction had established within her. This was the way forward."I have a lot to tell you."
1) I know that in book canon, Snape was killed in the Shrieking Shack. However, I much preferred the movie version, which was in the Boathouse :)
2) Don't know if I'll regret asking this, but for those of you who've noticed the 'No Beta' tag, would you say your eyes are bleeding reading my fic? I believe it's not that bad, but do I make a lot of obvious mistakes, or are you able to read everything fluidly? Asking because if you notice too much errors, I would probably get a beta's help to go over the already-posted chapters and the upcoming ones.
3) Thank you so much for following this story!💛Don't hesitate to promote it if you like it (but you are not obligated to in any way!) and share the madness.