Chapter Text
Uneasiness spread like a poison, bothering Hermione’s gut anew, when she stepped through the flame. Leaving her loves behind felt like a betrayal and, all the while, they were fighting for her in that bedroom with Harry. Hermione could do the same here, in a place she hoped never to see again. The inside of Malfoy Manor.
Flames of green engulfed her and she vowed not to be gone for more than sixty minutes. The boys ought to have been done by then. She could claim that Ginny had an emergency, if they asked where she went, or… Or… No.
They were in this together. One and all. To the bitter end, if it came to it. If she didn’t follow their own rules and tell the truth then why should they? And those rules had been designed to keep each other safe. They were the bedrock of this partnership. Hermione would need to tell Draco and Theo about her visit to the Manor. Possibly Harry too if Narcissa’s warnings about the Ministry were correct.
A cruel instinctual dread had controlled Hermione’s writing hand to return that letter and it worked again to push her through the flames on the other side. Into the belly of a beast that had once churned her up and left her as she is now; night-mare struck without Draco and Theo beside her.
Danger, warned by the pricking of her skin, had always been Hermione’s calling. Her purpose, even? Whilst she tried not to fear it or let it interfere with the life she was trying to build, it remained a headache. An infection, though dwindling with time, that never ceased to prepare her for the moment when it would strike.
Now felt that like time. Do or die.
This was Hermione’s final thought before a tall blond woman turned toward the hearth she clambered out from and into the darkness of an opulent though barren bedroom.
“Come, dear,” Narcissa whispered frantically.
She reached out a hand toward her, trembling under Hermione’s observation, and beckoned her to take a seat in one of the plush emerald armchairs facing the crackling fireplace.
Narcissa Malfoy, before now, had always stood out to Hermione as a woman who held an air of practiced ease. Like the world could be burning at her feet and she’d still smile. Living for years around Voldemort was the cause for that, most likely. An intelligent woman like Narcissa would not allow her fear to be visible because if it was, it could be leveraged.
During the final battle, she was the same way. Brave as a mother searching for her only child should have been. But now Hermione could hear the quake in her voice. She could see the purple bags under the woman’s eyes. The streaks of grey in her hair. This was a woman so terrified that she couldn’t hide it anymore.
Hermione didn’t believe for a second that a witch like Draco’s mother would crumble into a shadow of her former self through her own torture or mistreatment. She was scared for a life more important than her own. It screamed only one thing to Hermione: Draco was at risk and perhaps more so than he ever was whilst Voldemort still reigned.
“I won’t keep you long,” Narcissa continued, placing a re-warmed china cup of tea into her hands and taking a seat opposite. A weary smile broadened her wrinkled cheeks, “Look at you, Hermione. May I call you Hermione?”
“You may,” she replied warily. Whilst Draco had earned her trust, Hermione still thought it best to keep his mother at arm’s length. For now, at least. She may not have been a threat herself but if she was under the control of Theodore Nott Snr, as she claimed, there was no reason to believe this visit was not being observed.
A slithering shiver passed up her spine.
“I’ve only seen photographs of you in the papers since the Battle. So many interviews and trials. You look well. A little tired, under the weather, perhaps? But– oh, you were so brave, my dear.”
“Thank you. Sorry. You must forgive my urgency but you said in your letter that Draco, Theo and I aren’t safe. That we’re less at risk if we bond? It’s because bond magic is difficult to break without causing harm, isn’t it? We just need to find somebody to bond us, to protect us.”
Narcissa carefully tipped an elegant silver teapot, pouring herself a cup which she lifted to her lips. “It is not a guarantee but separated, any one of you can be tied into marriage without your say so. Contracts do not require the signature or approval of the intended to be valid.”
“I’m sure that Theo has been promised to another already,” Hermione’s voice shook. “Do– Do you know? Have you heard Nott mention it?”
A pallid hand took hers, cold to the touch, her skin paper thin. She lowered her voice despite assuring in her letter that they would be alone. Hermione straightened her back and flicked her eyes across the room. It was drenched in shadow save for the fire beside them and a candle wavering on the bedside table. She couldn’t see another person or hear them besides Narcissa. But there was a presence here, looming and waiting.
Hermione couldn’t tell whether the Manor simply held the memories of pain and suffering or kept them alive.
“He has been matched.”
Her stomach dropped and her mouth turned dry. Hermione took another sip of her tea as the news sunk in. For weeks now, she had known that the chances of losing Theo were high but…
This was a lead weight tied to her feet, dropping her at an accelerating speed to the bottom of the ocean. Since fourth year, waking up within choppy waves, disoriented and confused, Hermione hadn’t stepped foot into a depth of water more than three feet. Being here had plunged her further than she thought she could escape.
But as long as Draco and Theo did, her last thought wouldn’t be murky and dim. It would be of their laughter, hearty and strong. And there was still a chance that she could save them.
Don’t be a hero, she’d once screamed at Harry. It was only earlier that year, in fact. Live, we’re going to need you.
He’d walked out into the forbidden forest anyway, sure of his convictions even if it meant his life. It had worked out for him because of the woman before her now. This wasn’t the end.
“What voids a marriage contract like this?”
“Marrying somebody else before it can be enacted. If there is a bond tying you together then he won’t be able to fulfill the contract.”
“And what if he has taken an Unbreakable Vow to marry the witch that his father has arranged for him? What if we marry him and he dies?” Hermione’s bottom lip shook and she inhaled deeply to correct it. To be the witch that Narcissa Malfoy used to be. Her voice calmed and she continued, “We don’t know the boundaries of the vow. I will not risk him to do it.”
“Dear, Theodore’s father believes that the contract is enough to secure his son’s fate. To take him away from corruption .” Corruption. A man and a mudblood. Nott Snr knows about Theo’s affection for them then. “The vow… How does it affect him?”
“He burns up whenever he tries to tell us anything about what his father has done to him. He falls into fits of searing pain and he’s despondent the rest of the time.”
“Then he’s using it simply to silence the boy until he can be forced down the aisle.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if we bond and he is lost, having broken his vow to marry anybody but us?”
Icy blue eyes were unflinching when Narcissa said, “Trust in Theo. He knows the limits of his vow and won’t throw away his life unnecessarily. If he agrees to bond then it will work. If not, you have your answer and can begin searching for other paths.”
Hermione scrambled to the edge of her seat. “Draco and I have been compiling case reports. Legislature. Arguments to fight against the law that states that homosexual Purebloods cannot marry. I would marry Theo tomorrow to free him from his contract but we will not leave Draco to the sidelines. If I bond with them, what guarantee is there that we won’t be arrested for it before we can even petition the Ministry?”
“My dear, if you still believe that Kingsley Shacklebolt has full authority over the Ministry, we’re in greater danger than I feared. The last approach to take it under the Dark Lord was brash and loud. They’ve taken quieter steps this time, infiltrating the Department of Mysteries and the Wizengamot, the Archives too. I know this isn’t easy to hear but even if you propose to change these laws… It won’t get further than right here. All you’ll do is make yourself a bigger target than you already are.”
“What do you mean? Who knows about us?”
“Skeeter was paid richly to promote the story of your relationship. While there are undoubtedly freedom-seeking others to use as an example, who best can draw attention like you? Like my son? Theodore Snr is willing to use his son if necessary, if he cannot comply. So please. You must marry them and bind your magical strength to theirs. You must find a way to get word of this to somebody you trust before Nott has the chance to do any more damage.”
Everything she and Draco had been working on for weeks now meant nothing. If Narcissa was right, their petition would not be presented to trusted representatives of the Ministry. They would, in effect, be signing their own incarceration papers and Theo’s death warrant. It couldn’t be done. And with the little control Hermione now possessed, her immediate thought wasn’t of her fraught situation at all.
It was to the woman risking everything, spilling internal secrets, to tell her this.
“And you?” Hermione asked, gripping Narcissa’s fragile hand a little tighter.
Her maternal spirit was one she craved. Either by the lack of a mother in her life or the strength she’d need in the months to come, Hermione wished she could absorb every ounce of that magic that flooded Narcissa’s body with the ability to give and keep giving.
Despite the consequences.
“What about me?”
“You need to leave,” Hermione implored her and even began to tug gently on her hand, to stand from her seat. “Come with me.”
She could stay at Hogwarts in her dorm. Who would know? If they had to tell McGonagall then that was fine. The Headmistress would understand that she was only trying to protect Draco’s mother. Her future mother.
Gods, she needed to do something .
But there was nothing to be done.
Narcissa’s small smile cut short but affectionate. “Thank you, dear, for thinking of me but if I am not here by the time that he returns tomorrow, it will be the first warning that something is wrong. No, I must stay. Or else Theo will be forfeit. Nott will come for him. He will punish him just as he punished Celia.”
Like a shard of ice to her heart, the memories of Theo’s chilling confession betwixt the lumber of his childhood treehouse, his safe place, came back to her.
“What do you know about her? Theo could only tell me so much and I– I need to help him. I know she was vocal about helping those who couldn’t help themselves. What did Nott do to her?”
Shaky fingers brushed over Hermione’s knuckles and a deep sigh proceeded the truth laid plain.
“He imperio’d her…” Narcissa’s eyes were just as blue as Draco’s. Golden in the centre too. “...to kill herself.”
There was no warning this time. Hermione dropped her hand and clutched the armrests of her chair, bowing her head low to heave up the nothing in her stomach across those pristine oak floors. Looking up with tears in her eyes, her mess already vanished by Narcissa’s wand, she was handed a Malfoy-embellished handkerchief to wipe the corners of her lips.
“I found her.” She inhaled deeply, reliving the day step by step, no doubt. “I was worried because she’d owled me the day before telling me she was trying to find a way to escape with her boy… but except for the few moments that Nott Snr left her side and she wrote me that letter, he didn’t trust her to be alone. I found her body and little Theo curled up in her cold arms and I brought them home with me. I gave her the farewell she deserved and buried her well but the Ministry wouldn’t let me keep him.”
Narcissa’s throat shifted, swallowing her regrets, and gave a small, hollow smile.
“So…” She recovered, straightening her back and forcing back the tears that Hermione shed with ease. Narcissa’s voice hardened and her gaze became more direct, forcing Hermione to listen as though she hadn’t already been latched to every horrific word. “You keep your child safe. You do as I’ve told you. After bonding, with three combined magical signatures, it should work to create a prenatal–”
“Sorry,” Hermione shook her head, interrupting. “What child are you referring to?”
“Your– My dear, you don’t see the signs as clearly as I do? I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
The heavy bedroom door creaked open and a grey haired man, tall and traditionally dressed, draped in black robes, stood with a menacingly taut brow.
She'd killed twice before today. War had called for it. Hermione's urge to lift her wand and say those illegal words had never been closer to the tip of her tongue.
“Yes, Narcissa. Do share," Theodore Nott Snr sneered.
Cool and quick, a quartz stone was pressed into Hermione's hand, immediately transporting her to the back alleys of Hogsmeade.
Even the necklace's magic wasn't strong enough to quell the idea from her mind. No amount of noting what she could see, feel or taste would work to cure the shake of fear. The war was not over.
And she was likely the last person to see Narcissa Malfoy alive.