Twenty Four
Hermione wakes to an empty bed.
Draco is not outside observing Vasades care for an improving Kaida, who readies for her return to her preferred outdoor home. He is not seated in the throne room, waiting in the large hall, walking through the gardens, pouring over parchment in his study, talking to Percy in the library, or waiting for her in the baths of his hidden quarters.
No one can find him.
Members of the Royal Council, Astoria, several of his knights, and a newly returned Harry all approach her in search of the king.
It prompts Hermione to find him herself.
Before alarming thoughts can rise, she spies Goldstein loitering nearby. Shorter than all the knights except Goyle, his presence is understated, and his wit allows him to act quickly in emergencies.
When she passes him, he falls into step beside her, dismissing the tired and famished Goyle, who has trailed after Hermione during her search. The knight looks relieved as he leaves for the kitchens.
"I will escort you to the king."
They walk side by side, at a slower, ambling pace set by Goldstein. It is not until they pass one of the palace courtyards that she realises he wants to talk. Which is unexpected. He and Goyle are more commonly at the king's side, but even when stationed with her, it is common for an entire day to pass with little more than pleasantries exchanged.
The status quo shifts with a cleared throat. "If it is not impertinent, might I inquire after Your Majesty?"
"I am quite well, thank you, Sir." Hermione glances sidelong at the knight. Signs of his nerves betray him: shifty eyes, visible discomfort, and fidgeting. Combined, they pique her curiosity more than her suspicion. "Why do you inquire?"
"With everything that has transpired since you became queen, Lady Daphne is often concerned for your well-being, though she will not say this to you."
More since Pansy's marriage and her latest departure following the graveyard attack, Daphne has been most accommodating. Keeping her informed. Watching those around them since the infertility potion incident. She is tense, and Hermione wonders if it is all due to the happenings in the palace. And the other threats to come.
"She shared these concerns with you?"
"She and I are…" Goldstein flushes in a charming, boyish way. "I have asked for her hand, but she has refused me many times. I know why."
"Then why did you ask?"
A simple question that is far more complex upon second thought, but Goldstein does not delay his response.
"People lie and their hearts change. I asked so she will know my sincerity, my intent. To give her a moment she can return to upon reflection and realise my desires have not and will not change."
The statement is so bold Hermione remains silent.
Bringing his gloved hand to the back of his neck, the Knight looks down awkwardly. "I do not need marriage. My parents' union was no different from hers. My father was careless with my mother until he realised his error."
"Is that why you are patient?"
"Indeed," Goldstein replies without hesitation. "I would simply live with her for the rest of our days if it were allowed."
Hermione admires and envies him, brave and honest in ways she is not when speaking her own heart.
"And if it were?" she asks quietly.
Goldstein's jaw drops. "That is most unheard of, Your Majesty. It would damage her reputation. She would never be allowed to marry—"
"As she wishes," Hermione points out.
"Any children we have would be illegitimate."
"I believe it is up to you to legitimise your brood through magic and signed documents, Sir."
"But—"
"She loves you."
"She does?" Goldstein brightens at the confirmation, but it does not last. "People would talk—"
"They do little else."
They laugh.
"You can wait for her to sort through it and herself, you can leave and start a life of your own, or you can stay. You need not my permission for how to live your lives." Hermione smiles softly, feeling wistful. "Love is more difficult when every instinct tells you that you should not. That you must not. It is agony when you cannot help feeling the way you do, even when its arrival scares you."
Goldstein says nothing after they round another corner, continuing down a corridor. "The king said the same, more or less."
"Oh." It is her turn to be surprised, which makes Goldisten laugh as they approach two great, open doors. She cannot see inside from where they are. "Forgive me, I did not—"
"Think that King Draco would speak on such matters?" His smile widens. "You are not exactly mistaken. He does not, but lately he has been… It is hard to explain His Majesty's moods. He remains as he is, or perhaps it is because I have known him since we were children. I do see the ways in which he has changed—when it pertains to you."
The word makes her heart skip.
She will not share the contents of Draco's heart.
Or that it belongs to her.
Instead Hermione chuckles. "I—I imagine I frustrate him so."
Goldstein nods in confirmation, stopping at the doors and stepping aside. He gestures for her to enter. When she does, the warm wards allow her entrance.
Inside is Draco.
He spars alone, a dagger in one hand and his wand in the other. Facing a wooden opponent, he sinks back, readying to attack. A visible cloak of magic covers the space around him, blocking out sound and absorbing spells. Sweating and flushed from exertion, when he attacks, his movements are slower and more practised than Hermione has seen.
Still, he fights with fluid ease, aiming spell after spell at the wooden opponent, which absorbs each as he moves closer, bringing his dagger to its neck but not striking. He continues like this, on and on, dodging and ducking, weaving, firing spells from the tip of his wand, magic humming until the dagger's blade glows.
Entranced, Hermione stares, approaching one step at a time until she is at the edge of the wooden platform he is on.
When she turns to ask a question, she realises Goldstein has not entered with her.
They are alone.
Draco stops mid-swing when he notices her.
Lowering his dagger, he makes a sharp sweep of his hand. It shuts the heavy doors to give them true privacy.
"Everyone looks for you." Hermione joins him on the platform. Hands behind her back, she walks around the space, curiously circling the dummy. It is singed but does not burn.
"I did not want to be found."
Hermione bows low. "Pardon the intrusion then."
Draco's sweaty hair sticks to his forehead. His skin is flushed. The sunlight pouring from above makes him look beautiful and terrifying. Without a tunic, only dressed in breeches and boots, Hermione stares at the blend of fresh and old scars on his chest and neck. This is not a new sight but it is one she cannot stop looking at each chance she gets.
Imperfections should make him less desirable, yet Hermione wants each and every mark. They are the raw physicality of his humanity. A cruel yet stunning reminder of his history and continued survival.
Draco wears them proudly, lets her touch them when they heal, kiss them at night when she cannot help herself.
"I will not disturb you any longer." She begins her slow retreat. "I—"
"Stay." Draco drops his sword. "It is impossible to intrude where you belong."
"Is that so?" Hermione lowers her eyes then lifts them once more. "I belong here?"
"Do not be coy." Three steps and he is there. Close enough to palm the side of her neck. "You know how I feel. You also know that you belong wherever I say you belong."
She swallows but does not move.
Nodding at the row of swords on the wall, he invites her to pick one. "Will you join me or watch?"
"I am not dressed to spar." Today's gown is maroon with intricately woven gold lace. The cape does not allow her to move as freely; the material is heavy. She wears too many rings that denote her power and position, as if the crown sitting on her head does not do the same.
"Then I will take it easy on you."
"Is that so?" Hermione's eyes narrow in challenge, forgetting every reservation in an instant. She does not pick up a sword. Instead, she pulls her wand from her gown pocket and steps back to take her stance. "You should not underestimate me."
"You wish to duel instead? How bold you are today, Little Lion." Draco's smirk is chilling. "Close your mind."
"I know how to keep you out."
Time and effort, as well as meditation with Firenze makes the task easier.
"Is that so?" he asks darkly.
Their last spar ended in a draw. Today's ends with Draco disarming her with frightening ease and backing her against the wooden dummy hard enough for her to feel slightly disoriented. It does not stop Hermione from reaching for her dagger. Grasping her hand, he twists until she releases it with a painful groan.
Shaking his head, he tsks. "Not again."
Hermione considers headbutting him. The angle is perfect for maximum effect, but there is something in his eyes that draws her attention.
Makes her stop fighting.
The slow, playful curl of his lips. The intrigue in his eyes. How he angles himself to give her every opportunity to free herself.
Draco does not fight, he teases.
At least until his smile melts into something far more tempting. Draco leans a fraction closer, as if drawn by gravity. Their bodies barely touch, lips just a breadth apart. He smells of leather, herbs, and magic.
It is hard not to touch what she wants.
"I heard that thought."
"As you should." Hermione surges to kiss him with a passion that unsettles her. She feels Draco's murmurs in her chest as he drags her closer, deeper, his tongue brushing against hers until she is breathless and tingling.
Draco slides his leg between her thighs, nudging them apart and lifting one. His body hovers but is not flush against her.
Stubbornness is why Hermione goes for her dagger once more.
Sheer will is why she succeeds.
Draco whispers a spell that makes it burn in her hand. Hermione drops it with a hiss, tries to buck away from him, but he holds her firm as he brings her reddened palm to his mouth. His grey eyes locked onto hers as he murmurs a spell that cools her skin.
"I should take you right here, but I will not give you what you want."
"Perhaps not now." Hermione slides a hand up his bare chest. "But you will."
The doors fly open.
They both turn at the interruption.
Harry stands frozen, then comes to life, covers his eyes, and tries to leave all at the same time. The escape is clumsy; he ends up running into a stone pillar.
"I—I will go." He fixes his glasses. "Carry on as if I was never—"
"Shut up." Draco kisses her quickly and steps back. "I called for you an hour ago to spar with me, but I think I know a better use for you."
"What is it?"
He tilts his head, looking Hermione up and down. "Duel with your sister."
Draco does not sentence every enemy to death.
The giants are shackled with magic and sentenced to hard labour. His knights interrogate every other prisoner, wolf and human alike, using their knowledge to condemn them.
The half who are offered to the Dementor are the sycophants who offer nothing except rhetoric. But those who have seen Voldemort in his destroyed form, those who played roles in his plans, and Greyback the Alpha Werewolf—Draco has their memories extracted and sent in vials to other rulers in the realm. He also dispatches knights to return to the hideouts they learn of to gather evidence and round up any escapees.
Hermione believes that what they have is damning, anything more will serve as undeniable proof to the realm's other kings. Proof of Mad King Lucius' ignored warning about the horcruxes and the threat of Voldemort's return ten years prior.
As queen, Hermione sits at Draco's side through it all.
As she should.
But it is different.
Draco seeks her opinion in private, pokes her for answers in public, and prods her to speak during times she once remained silent.
This shift bleeds into all aspects of their lives.
They debate in the garden as winter approaches, talk and sometimes argue for hours on end in the privacy granted in the spaces without mirrors. Silencing charms are necessary for more than carnal reasons.
Hermione knows this continued change will put a target on her, yet she cannot help but grow bolder.
Bold enough to make a request in private while they await an official response from the other kingdoms.
"I wish to return."
Draco knows immediately where.
The forest where she was tortured, the path of their escape, the lakeside where Bellatrix stabbed her. Where she nearly died.
Much to her shock, he agrees without argument.
They leave the following day with no guards, save Firenze and Vasades, who trot ahead of them. The forest is eerily quiet as they walk to the site. The earth is still scorched from the blue flames.
Daylight gives her nightmares a different hue.
Even with Vasades guiding her, Hermione cannot tell the story. She does not know the exact tree she was tied to and tortured. They all look the same. The escape route to freedom is strange, even as they walk it. And the charred remains of the lakeside shock her silent.
Hermione is not sure how she feels.
Disconnected, mainly.
Watching Firenze extract glass made from dragon fire upon the sand makes her remember Kaida's wrath. Seeing Draco place a hand on one of the many burnt tree trunks calls forth memories of falling down the hill. Observing Vasades standing hoof deep in the water reminds her of staring at the sky, breathing what she thought were her last breaths.
But this is not a place of nightmares any longer.
It is a place of strength.
"We should destroy it all."
Hermione feels Draco at her back, his hands bracing her shoulders. She leans into him.
"No, I do not believe this is the right course of action. Do you not agree?"
The question is levied at the centaurs.
"Fire destroys but it also purifies," Firenze replies.
"You should allow nature to heal this place," Vasades suggests.
Draco frowns. "How can you protect a—"
"That night set my course." One that opened her eyes and changed her view of the world and the man behind her. It enabled her to stare in the face of her darkest nightmares and not allow them to consume her. "Let us spare this place. Nature will create something new."
"If that is what you wish."
"It is."
"Then we will leave this place."
On the walk back to the palace, Draco's hand does not leave hers. Vasades notes this with smirking glances, and Hermione knows her friend will talk of little else later.
The forest path they take is livelier. Fairies and other creatures keep their distance, but birds chirp and there are signs of life all over. She finds the turning trees serene. The brisk air is lovely. The sun is bright but cool.
"You have much on your mind," Hermione says as she gives Draco a little squeeze. It seems to distract him from his thoughts.
"I do," he confesses. "Percy has acquired the land to build your school. He requested that you attend the groundbreaking."
Hermione is cautiously happy. "And you said?"
"I declined at first, but I have changed my mind."
"Oh?"
"I will attend with you."
Demelza goes missing in the night.
Her chambers are pristine, except for three words that cover her walls, written in blood.
Come find me.
She already knows who the cat is in this game of chase.
They refuse to be mice.
"Find her," Draco commands.
Sirius changes form to look on foot, while Draco sends out his knights and takes to the skies on Kaida to join the search.
Hermione paces and stares at the bloody walls in her chambers for hours with Alicia and Daphne on either side.
"The necromancer?" Daphne asks.
"He is getting bold," Alicia says.
"Or foolish." Hermione is not looking at the walls. Instead, her focus is on the floor. "Where is the rest of the blood?"
This makes them both turn.
"I have been wondering about this," Alicia admits. "But we do not know who is listening."
"This reminds me of Marietta." Daphne shudders. "How she wrote stone in her own blood. Do not let Cho see this."
"She is with Luna and the other ladies." Hermione lifts the sheets. Nothing. She looks under the bed. Nothing. She searches every part of the chambers until she finds something black on the wood floor of her wardrobe. Hermione knows what it is the instant she sees it. "An Inferus has been in the palace."
"What?"
They rush to her.
Hermione rips the bottom of her gown and dips it into the ooze to preserve the evidence, holding it up for both to see. "I have seen Inferus that are merely a collection of bones, but I have also seen newly created Inferus that do bleed. This is what their blood looks like."
Alicia frowns. "How does an Inferus get into the palace without anyone noticing?"
"They are let in."
There is no spare moment to consider this.
Luna bursts into the room, out of breath. "Demelza has been found. She is with the Healers."
Hermione carefully wraps the soaked parts of the cloth and puts it in her pocket. She leads the way to the Healers and finds them crowded around the visibly shaken girl, asking questions as one while Greg tries to get them to back away from her but is ignored.
"Enough."
Everyone stops at Hermione's command.
"Out. All of you."
The Healers file out, but Greg remains.
"Where did you find her?"
"She was found wandering in the forest by centaurs. I was tasked with seeking their aid, but they had her there when I arrived. You Highness, there is something—"
"Demelza." Alicia kneels at her side. It earns her a wide-eyed look. "Are you harmed?"
"Where am I?" She looks at each of them. "Who are you?"
"She remembers nothing."
Hermione and Draco are outside the aviary with Theo and Harry, watching her ladies try to be a comforting presence to the doe-eyed Demelza. Her fellow ladies and friends have all been rebuffed. When her mother joins them at Hermione's suggestion, Demelza gravitates to her side, instinctively seeking maternal comfort.
"Define nothing." Harry's comment earns him a long look from both Draco and Theo.
"She did not know her name until Alicia said it."
"Memory charm?"
"No, stronger. An Obliviation. Like Millicent." Draco tilts his head thoughtfully. "I wonder how she fits."
"Or what she saw." Hermione then pulls the cloth from her pocket, handing it to Theo. "Test this. I believe it is blood from an Inferus. I found it in her wardrobe."
Draco turns to Harry. "They only take command from their master. Take the knights and find it, but do not destroy it. Put a tracking spell on it and see where it goes."
Hermione's first official trip serves as undeniable proof of what Sirius' whispers.
She is well-liked by the peasants, who greet her with flowers and sweet treats. What surprises her is that word and proof of her kindness has brought Draco's reputation up from the dirt.
He is still the son of the Mad King, still known for his personal brand of brutality, yet opinions of Draco are now balanced by her. They do not cheer with genuine excitement when they see him, but they do not cower either.
Hermione uses this to her advantage following the groundbreaking, when she requests that they walk the lower town to visit the poor and the orphanage. Draco indulges her, though she can tell he wishes to do anything else.
She catches sight of him glaring down at a pair of toddlers. They peer up at him from his knees in awe, even as the other children keep their distance while staring at the imposing king.
Hermione forgets everything when he picks up both, if only to return them where they belong.
The memory does not leave, despite her attempts to distract herself with other matters upon their return to the palace. Hermione draws him into his private study.
"I implore you to consider something else."
Draco folds his arms. "What is it?"
"You should consider using a portion of the surplus for improvements. Send surveyors out to towns and villages across the kingdom to see what needs to be done to improve their lives, especially places that have no governing noble. The forests—"
"Have already been returned to be governed by the centaurs, as agreed when you were first healed."
"I have always wondered, aside from me, why would you agree to such a thing?" she asks.
"Are you not enough of a reason?"
Hermione steps closer. "I know I am to you, but I also know you. There are other reasons you did this."
"Too much division breeds strife."
"Is that why you agreed to the schools?"
"They are the fastest way to find and recruit those with familiars or special skills that benefit the kingdom. Altering their training and trajectory is paramount to maintaining their loyalty to the crown in the long run."
Hermione agrees with the ends but not the means. The positive she takes is that he seems to be less focused on the realm, and more on its people. "It sounds as though you have turned your attention inward."
"There are those who would see to it that we fall."
We.
Hermione's mind and heart race at the single word.
"You know what we must do." She draws her hands behind her, locking them in place as Draco sits in the chair before her. He does not remove his crown. "Our duty is to create a line of succession, lest we make it easy for our enemies. I know how you feel, and I have respected it by taking the Jamu, but—"
"I am not so opposed."
But he still sounds reluctant.
Hermione's eyes widen. "You mean…"
"Not at this moment, but in Spring. Let us bring the necromancer out of hiding first."
So far their efforts to find the Inferus that was in the palace was fruitless. There have not been any sightings since, as if the necromancer knows their monsters are being hunted.
"How do we do that?"
Draco shares what he knows, what he has learned from evidence and extracted memories. He also gives her the list of suspects—names of Mulciber and Avery are crossed out, leaving several foreign kings' names and a few from within the palace, those in their court from conquered kingdoms.
"The necromancer has raised bodies from battles fought during our campaign to destroy the horcruxes. There are also bodies that predate this, from when my father ruled, and some that are more recent. Given what they did to Demelza's memory, they were also involved with the coup."
"Which means they conspired with Millicent," Hermione says gravely. "I wonder if their plan was to corrupt me until they realised they could not. I do not know how Demelza fits into this, but we know for certain Marietta saw something. A stone, if her dying act is to be believed."
"The Resurrection Stone, Percy thinks."
"I've read all about the Hallows. The stone can only create an apparition. It cannot control the dead."
"Much like Voldemort corrupted mundane objects to create horcruxes, it is not outside the realm of belief that an object like the Resurrection Stone is just as susceptible to corruption as any other."
It is something to consider.
There is a knock on the door.
"Enter."
Her father enters alone, leaning on his cane. "There is trouble. Winky was assisting Daphne with your gown for dinner this evening and touched a necklace in your chambers."
"What happened?"
"Daphne is unharmed, but Winky—"
"Take me to her."
Father leads the way to their chambers where Healers work on the elf who screams in agony, even as one Healer pours potions down her throat with the help of a shaking and terrified Daphne. The necklace itself is under guard, Harry's wand is on it as if it is sentient while other guards search the room.
The screaming stops suddenly and Winky goes limp.
Goldstein rushes over with a note. "It was in the box with the necklace."
As Draco reads it, his expression darkens.
Hermione does not understand his rage until she reads the note herself.
For the queen.
They return to the king's quarters after an exhausting evening.
Hermione sleeps fitfully, even though she is assured Winky will heal.
Draco holds her the entire night.
This is public knowledge the following morning, reminding Hermione of the mirror in the corner of his chambers. When they return for a second night, rumours spread as people begin to once again look and whisper.
After a week of this while everything in her chambers is replaced, Hermione is tired of it all.
An idea is born when a Healer pulls her aside and says, "Today is a fertile day."
Hermione makes a different move.
She waits for Draco wearing nothing but gold bracers, her hair down, wild and free. He returns sweaty from training soldiers and knights, but does not advance like he normally would upon seeing her in this state.
"What is this?" Draco approaches slowly, a glint in his grey eyes as he undresses. He glances at the mirror before Hermione kisses the salt on the skin of his bare chest.
"They wish to watch. Let them watch."
Let them learn the partial truth of what they do behind closed doors.
She sinks lower, kissing and licking her way down his chest, the hard muscles of his abdominals.
By the time Hermione rests on her knees, she has his full interest.
This is not the first time. But unlike before, there is a different focus in his eyes when she wraps a hand around him. Licking the underside from base to the tip, she inhales and sucks the head of his cock into her mouth.
Draco's eyes are on her as she bobs her head, hollowing her cheeks with every pull. He tastes like salt and sweat, which should be unpleasant, but is instead the sign of a long day and hard work. His hands bury themselves in her hair as she licks and strokes and pulls her name from his lips. Draco throws his head back, both hands on her head as he uses her mouth to find pleasure.
"Your mouth." Draco hisses as he guides the motion of her head, shuddering when she grabs the back of his thighs. "Fuck."
Everything falls away.
Hermione forgets the audience, her intent and motivation in this act. The only thing she focuses on is the way his cock feels in her mouth, the way he praises her for making him feel good.
And how it makes her feel.
She slips a hand between her thighs, rubbing her clit, only able to go with the flow and the snap of his hips as his cock tickles the back of her throat. Subservient and weak is what Hermione looks like, but when she peers up, seeing his head thrown back, hearing the break in his voice as he cries out, Hermione realises she is neither of those things.
There's more magic in this moment than any wand can create.
Peace and energy in all forms.
And when his rhythm stutters to a halt, when she hears his moan reverberate through her, and feels the taste of him on her tongue, Hermione clenches around nothing and understands the strength in submission.
Draco picks her up effortlessly, throws her on the bed, and teaches her about the ebb and flow of power as he worships her cunt with his tongue.
When he finishes, he shatters the mirror.
As expected, the news of their night leaks the next morning.
The Royal Healers are in an uproar when Hermione enters.
Draco sits at the head of the table, appearing unbothered as accusations are thrown.
Infertility. Trickery. Depravity.
They accuse Hermione of everything under the sun and want the king to arrest her for crimes she has not committed.
The room falls to a hush when Hermione asks one question. "The only way anyone would know what happens behind closed doors is if there are eyes within the king's chambers. Are there?"
No one will confess to spying, but they do admit to hearing rumours of the act.
Hermione looks at Draco, who gives an imperceptible nod, ending the assembly despite their protests. With her arm in his, he leads the way out. He accepts a bag from an elf—the only sign that this escape is planned.
"What are you—"
Draco silences her with a look.
Bypassing the gardens where they usually speak in peace, they walk to the Vanishing Closet, which will take them to Kaida's space beside the lake.
Eyes track their moves, but when they are alone, he calls for his familiar. She comes, happy to return to her freedom.
She is not alone. Her dragon friends return with her, but leave when she lands.
In an hour's time, their activities will be common palace knowledge. Alicia and her trusted Ladies will do their jobs, and they may be closer to answers.
Hermione is prepared for this.
What she is not prepared for is when Draco lifts her up, setting her on Kaida's back. It is not Hermione's first ride, but it is the first time they leave with no destination in mind. Draco gives her no time to question before he climbs on; only a little time to wrap her arms around him before they take to the skies.
They fly above the palace grounds, through Wiltshire; people look as they pass. From up high, she takes in nature as far as the eye can see before they begin to descend.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Away," is Draco's response above the wind.
"Why?"
"It is what I wish."
He says nothing else as they fly on. Hermione drinks in the fresh air while looking down at nature, patched with towns and villages. The air is crisp but not cold, and the sun shines on her face. It is as warm as Draco. The next time she looks up, she spots a little village on the edge of a great forest in the distance.
"Can we stop there?"
Draco is in an indulgent mood. It is not long before they are walking through the village after leaving Kaida to fish for her next meal.
It is alive. The streets are filled with people going about their lives, children who chase each other and play in the square. It is lovely. Hermione misses small slices of the world like this.
It is not long before people begin to notice them.
Recognise who they are.
Word spreads fast.
By the time they come out of the Apothecary, where Hermione walks and explores, people are crowded at the window.
A little girl with brown hair and a speck of dirt on her cheek bravely approaches with flowers.
Draco stiffens beside her, but she steadies him with a touch and squats before the little girl.
"These are lovely. Thank you." She rubs the spot from the girl's cheek and offers her a smile. "I love flowers."
After this, the entire town converges, offering gifts and trinkets, small things she stores in Draco's charmed bag. Hermione has nothing to give in return. She wants to, but no one asks.
Instead she gives the same gift to everyone. Hermione listens. Hears the problems they are having, mainly with the town well that needs to be fixed. They have issues with mud when it rains. The repairs are simple, but they do not have the equipment.
Or the support of a wealthy noble.
A testament to how ignored the smaller villages are.
Hermione looks at Draco. He has been a silent observer; the children are both enthralled and fear him, and the same is true for the adults. She has focused on keeping their attention trained on her instead. To the children, she whispers that he is here to protect them. To the adults, she notes their leery looks but tries to calm them with her presence and gentle words.
When she approaches Draco, it seems that everyone follows her.
Her question is silent, but his response is not.
"I will see that aid is provided."
He surprises her by asking the village leaders to show him where the problems are.
It warms the villagers to him.
Slightly.
But it is enough.
The next hour is spent with Draco, observing as they show him around. Hermione spends time with the children and teenagers who are drawn to her. The girls fawn over her gown, and she shows them all a bit of wandless magic. She tours the community garden and gives tips from what she has learned along the way. Her first little friend is never far away.
In the end, when it is time to leave, Hermione hugs the little girl. She keeps the flowers she was given.
When they begin to bow, Draco stops them and gives them a nod in return.
The crowd is stunned speechless.
