The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man

Title: The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man
Author: moirasfate/ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Suspense, romance, angst
Warnings: Character Death, graphic violence, madness, non-consensual sexual acts, abuse, oral, M/F, and overall darkness. Dark!Harry included.
Summary: DH-EWE: Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger leads of life of self-imposed obscurity, that is, until the day Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is murdered and a certain 'hero' is responsible.
Author's Notes: This fic is in 1st person POV, so take heed. It will eventually be a DM/HG, but there is a squicky scene that might make you think otherwise. There is some non-con in this fic, so if it squicks you, don't read it for Merlin's sake! Comments and ConCrit is welcomed!


Special thanks to onduril with the inclusion of German incantations in this chapter and later chapters!



The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man

Part 13



Harry looked cleaner than I remembered. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but still untidy. His face was clean-shaven, and his clothing: a pair of black leather trousers, matching jerkin, and black linen shirt made him appear like some highwayman. An arrogant smirk curled his lips, and his eyes, sans spectacles, glittered a malevolent shade of jade. But the real testament to his madness came from the famous scar on his forehead. Even from where I stood, I could see fingernail marks along his forehead, as if he had been compulsively scratching the old curse scar.

But what disconcerted me, and explained how the Aurors in the Department of Mysteries were killed, were the two wands he held. In his right, the Elder Wand, and in his left…his old wand made of dark holly and phoenix feather. My eyes widened as the memory of Williamson’s words came to me. Harry had opened his own vault…taken the Invisibility Cloak…had his old wand been stored there as well? My answer was before me.

“It took me a while to realize it, but now that I know, I am delighted that it was you who nearly beat me, Malfoy.”

I blinked. How could Harry know? We were Polyjuiced. Williamson had told us that Harry had tortured Ernie Macmillan, breaking through a Vow to learn where I had been hiding…but…

“And it took you long enough to heal, eh, Potter?”

Harry laughed, but it was mirthless and cruel.

“It would be my nemesis that would be my obstacle. It is only fitting it should be this way.

Now, stand aside, I need to speak to Hermione.”

I stiffened, hugging the lead box to my chest.

“You think I would simply step aside, Potter. Granger is under my protection, and you will have to kill me before I let you even look at her!” Malfoy snarled, his hand pushing me tighter against his back.

I was shaking, I couldn’t help it. Another confrontation with Harry was what I had feared. I was not ready to fight him, let alone kill him.

“She’s mine, Malfoy,” Harry roared.

I slammed my eyes shut and cowered behind Malfoy. I prayed to the gods that someone would come from the Atrium, that the Aurors would make a grand appearance, anyone…just to give Malfoy and I time to make an escape!

“She is herself, Potter. If you do not want to die, I suggest you stand down, or you will rue the day you were born!” Malfoy roared in return, his voice shaking the air and the stones under my feet.

Power…I could feel it coming off Malfoy’s back, such power that scared me, and made me clench my wand tighter in my hand. Malfoy seemed so large before me, like a thick trunk of a hearty oak tree…unmovable. His anger was palpable…and slowly I felt my fear begin to drain away. I could not stop to think about why, but I felt larger as well.

I straightened, taking in short, rapid breaths.

“And so I do!

Avada Kedavra!”

I took a breath, and moved even before Malfoy’s hand pushed me. I rolled across the floor of the hall as two streams of bright light blinded me. I rolled to the side of the nearest Floo, and pressed myself against the stone.

Strangely, a satisfied smirk twisted my lips as I recognized that Harry had used his old wand to cast the Killing Curse…and it had been met with its brother in Malfoy’s hand. Malfoy had not vocalized his spell, he was mature wizard, but I could not tell what spell he was using to counter the stream of evil green light from Harry’s wand. Whatever Malfoy was using, the magic came from his wand in a silver stream, almost like a Patronus Charm.

There was no ‘Priori Incantatem,’ there was no time. Malfoy’s protective spell seemed to absorb the fury behind Harry’s Killing Curse.

Harry’s face was twisted, alternating from anger and surprise that his spell was being countered. His other hand twitched, and I opened my mouth to shout at Malfoy to be on his guard.

Even with only one eye, Malfoy saw what was coming, and before Harry could attempt to cast with the Elder Wand, he was blown back by a Stunning hex from Severus Snape’s wand.

Thirteen and one half inch, black oak with Caladrius feather, Miss Granger…Severus chuckled to my surprise.

I watched as Harry kicked up to his feet, face like that of a rabid beast. He stalked forward, wild eyes searching, raising the Elder Wand to point it at Malfoy.

“What have you done to her?” Harry shouted.

Malfoy did not answer, but poised his body like a duelist, Tom Riddle’s wand over his head, Severus’ pointing outward.

Voices sounded from the Atrium, but there was no sound of rushing feet.

“Where are the Aurors?” I hissed under my breath.

Dispatched from this world, Miss Granger…Severus whispered in answer.

“By Merlin, Malfoy, if you don’t hand her over…”

“What, Potter? You’ll kill everyone in this building?” Malfoy shouted back.

I stared at Malfoy’s borrowed profile, and sighed. Malfoy would fight Harry until one of them was dead. And I knew that if by some twist Malfoy were killed…I would feel pain.

“Killing you will suffice!”

Again, the Killing Curse, which was deflected almost immediately. I could not see Harry’s face as I had slipped back further against the wall of the Floo, but I was certain he could not believe that his Curse was being so easily tossed aside…or that the reason it would not work was because Malfoy had Tom Riddle’s wand. Either Harry could not see this fact, or he had somehow forgotten.

I knew now that Harry could not kill with the Elder Wand after what Malfoy had told me after their last confrontation, thus Harry’s use of his old wand, which could easily use the Killing Curse.

“Crucio!” Harry hissed, his voice so similar to Voldemort’s.

Malfoy did not fall, but the curse struck him. Using both wands he had shielded himself from the brunt of the curse, and only his face revealed the effect. He grimaced before dispelling the Unforgivable.

Finally, retaliating, Malfoy cast a spell silently, using Severus’ wand. I slid on the floor, closer, to see a stream of white and blue blast toward Harry, too fast for him to defend against. When the spell hit, Harry seemed to stop breathing for a moment before his body was lifted up into the air, slamming him into the arched ceiling high above. The spell was like a living creature, slamming Harry into the ceiling and down to the floor again so that a crater formed about his body from the violent force of impact.

I cried out in shock at the ferociousness of the spell, and Malfoy, stunned by the sound of my voice, turned his face to me, opening his mouth to speak. The distraction had been a mistake, for in a split second Harry was on his feet, swaggering and bleeding from his head, blood dripping from his crushed right arm, the Elder Wand dangling from his hand.

A curse shot from Harry’s holly wand, hitting Malfoy squarely in the chest, throwing him through the air, down the hall so that when he hit the floor, he rolled several times before coming to rest on his side, his back to me.

Blood gushed from his back, and I was suddenly on my feet. Whatever curse Harry had used, it had cause a hole, about the size of a Sickle to penetrate Malfoy’s chest and through his back. I immediately thought of Muggle guns and bullets. And then I did not think any more…clutching the lead box to my chest, my wand at the ready, I felt my anger consume me…and move me.

Malfoy did not move to rise, he did not move at all.

Surely, he was dead…

And if he was dead, I would feel no qualms in avenging him.

I stepped from behind the wall of the Floo and into the hall. I felt my own magic swirl over me, and I felt the affects of the Polyjuice trickle away so that I stood before my old friend, Harry Potter, with my own face.

Severus remained silent as I met Harry’s eye…my amber against his emerald.

“Give me the box, Hermione,” Harry said, stretching out his hand, his holly wand in his curled thumb.

“No.”

Harry’s eyes flashed even as blood dripped off his brow.

“I command you to give it me!”

I narrowed my eyes. “You command nothing, Harry Potter.”

Harry’s face changed oddly, and he blinked in confusion.

“You thought you had me enslaved?”

He did not answer, realizing that his curses had not worked, and he straightened his shoulders the best he could, raising his holly and phoenix feather wand to my face.

“I don’t want to kill you, Hermione,” he muttered darkly.

“But you’d be content to hurt me, break me?”

Harry’s face softened, and I saw a shadow of my old friend. “You’re mine, Hermione…and Ron… Malfoy’s brainwashed you…”

“Harry, you’re ill. Lower your wand, and let me find someone who could help you…”

I had wanted my voice to sound pleading. I had wanted to quell my anger, reason with Harry, if I could. I did not want to kill him…

But you must, Miss Granger, for even though he seems like your friend, he will not hesitate to kill you for the box in your arms…Severus said sternly, pulling my sympathetic feelings out of the way so that I saw Harry for what he truly was…murderous and mad.

Harry shuffled toward me so that there was at least twenty feet between us…and closing the gap. I raised my wand with a snap of my arm, the walnut pulsing in my hand.

“You would fight me, Hermione? Because I killed Malfoy?”

I licked my lips, and said nothing as Harry took another step forward, blood now dripping off his chin. The contrast of his red blood and his green eyes made his face appear like some horrible thing made of nightmares. Harry had been my nightmare ever since that night in the cottage.

“Please, Hermione, just give it to me, and I will make everything all right…” he whispered.

I took a step back, holding the box so tight that I could feel the goblin enchantment hum against my breasts.

“Everything will be all right…we can always be together…me, you, and Ron. No one will have to die!”

My hand trembled, but with one steady breath I stopped trembling. There was no way Harry could make anything ‘all right!’

“I loathe you…” I whispered, and then with a violent flick of my wand, I jumped back, floating softly to the floor as suddenly Harry screamed like some otherworldly thing as the Floos on either side of the hall activated. Instead of the usual green fire, violet fire sprang from the hearths, billowing outward in a wall of hellish heat, engulfing Harry.

I had Conjured the fire only once before, and I had nearly killed myself in doing so. I watched as the violet fire grew, the heat melting the stone floor. A Fiendfyre… Like liquid color, it swirled and flowed in eddies and torrents. The heat was unbearable even from where I stood, and the air was sucked toward the flame, like a vacuum of terrible power.

With another flick of my wand, the fire poured backward into the Floos again, extinguishing. Smoke filled the hall, a violet smoke that smelled of burnt stone. I kept on my guard, however I was nearly unable to see before my own face.

Harry was mad, but resourceful. He had seen, and survived, Fiendfyre before…

I whirled my wand to form a pillar of clear air around me, my eyes moving through the smoke to see any shapes trying to attack in the haze. I clutched the box as the smoke whirled and began to dissipate. I couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief yet, and I couldn’t go to Malfoy…

“Gotcha!” a voice hissed in my ear as a hand slapped across my mouth. I could smell burnt flesh and leather.

I squealed against the hand, and twisted away, kicking out with my right boot, catching Harry Potter squarely in the groin. I stumbled backward, falling on my arse as I watched Harry, his left arm burnt horribly, fall to his knees. His hair was singed, as was the left side of his clothing. The Elder Wand still hung from his limp right hand, but his holly wand was gone.

I panted as I scrambled to my feet, pointing my wand tip at Harry’s head.

“Bitch!” he hissed, his voice hoarse.

Even mad wizards had their weak points.

The smoke was low to the floor, and I could barely see Harry’s face or Malfoy’s body. I had to run…all the courage I had had to Conjure the Fiendfyre was gone.

“I swear, Hermione, if you do not give me that box…” Harry hissed.

Fear compelled me to run, but fear had also cemented my feet to the floor.

“Things will be very bad for you.”

Even my breaths were trembling in my lungs, but I lifted my chin to stare down at Harry.

“Do it then, Harry. Kill me. If there is anything left your heart or your conscious, I will be there…haunting you,” I said as steadily as I could manage.

Harry’s face contorted into one of pain, and tears filled his eyes. “You already haunt me, Hermione…” he whispered. But his soft, repentant face did not remain in place for long as he struggled to his feet.

“Give me the box!”

I shook violently. “No!” I gasped.

“Give me the box!” he raged, mustering his strength to raise his crushed right arm and the Elder Wand.

“Never!” I screamed back at him, a wince passing along his lips and disappearing.

Harry’s face darkened as his lips began to move…to form an incantation I could not easily recognize, but could tell was in German. ‘Brenn’…and then I remembered…’The Hanged Man.’

With an enormous effort Harry raised his ruined arm so that the Elder Wand moved in an intricate pattern. As he moved to release his terrible curse, I slammed my eyes shut, hugging the box to my breast like a shield of lead.

“Goodbye, Hermione…” Harry whispered before a violent guttural noise came from his lips…

…followed by a terrible scream, and the spray of hot blood against my face.




I had blood in my eyes, but it was not my blood. I stumbled backward, and wiped at my face. Harry’s screams filled my ears, and then I opened my eyes it was to see him clutching his right hand…or where the hand should have been. Just at my feet rested a large, pale, and severed hand with the Elder Wand clutched in its fingers.

With a quickness I did not think possible in my shaken state, I snatched the Elder Wand up from the dead fingers, and held it tight in my left hand, my walnut wand in my right.

I watched as Harry screamed like a wounded animal, falling to his knees again.

I could have killed him then…wounded as he was, but all I could do was watch him writhe like a child, tears rolling from his frightened eyes in torrents. He did not look at me, and did not speak, only cried.

Rolling to his feet, he rose into a crouch, and before I could raise my wand to incapacitate him, he fell into a Floo and was gone.

I blinked after him, feeling as if everything that had just happened was a dream…a bad dream. I was not hurt, Harry had not managed to cast one spell against me. But I…I had Conjured a Fiendfyre.

And in my left hand, pressed against the lead box, was the Elder Wand. I moved the box to my other arm, and extended my hand outward to study the wand. It was just as I remembered it…white wood, long and slender. In my hand it hummed pleasantly, and I realized that I was its new master.

I blinked at the wand, and remembered…my feet moved of their own accord, smoke trailing behind me as my skirts moved. I ran down the hall to where Malfoy was lying on his back, his left eye staring up at the ceiling blindly.

At some point his Polyjuice had ran out so that he lay on the floor with his own face and body. I dropped the lead box next to him as I knelt at his right side, also dropping both wands so that they clattered and echoed through the hall.

“Malfoy?” I asked, tears thickening my voice.

My hands moved to his coat, pulling it open so I could see the oozing hole high on his right side. I knew the spell Harry had used had not pierced Malfoy’s vital organs, but there was so much blood.

“Malfoy?” I asked again, pressing my hands into his chest, trying to feel for a heartbeat.

My teary eyes saw that he had Severus’ wand in his left hand, Tom Riddle’s lying nearby. It had been Malfoy who cast a severing charm at Harry…taking his hand.

“Malfoy!” I screamed at him, but he did not move. I could not feel a heartbeat under his clothing, and I began screaming my agony and helplessness. I fumbled with the wands at my knees, grabbing one and began trying to cast healing Charms on the wound. I was blinded and deaf to everything but my own grief. Malfoy had saved me…again. If only I had not cried out…if only I had not distracted him…

The flesh knitted together, some of the blood soaked back into the wound. I was muttering nonsense under my tears. Mantras…prayers…

“Live…live…I cannot lose you…”

I wept the bitterest tears of my life as I moved the wand over him. Why wasn’t someone coming? Where were the Aurors? Where were the Healers?

“Live, damn you! I cannot lose you, Malfoy!” I screamed, hoping that my words would somehow make him wake up and scold me…

“You cannot leave me, Malfoy! I’ll be alone…” I screamed, but broke down, my voice useless…

I cast more healing spells, everything that I could manage to think of, my hand moving on its own, the glow of the wand showing my teary eyes how much blood stained Malfoy’s dark grey suit.

It was all my fault…all of it!

“Granger…”

A hand grasped my wrist, stopping my wand’s movement, and I gasped as Malfoy was looking up at me, his lips bloodless, his face coated in sweat.

“Cannot leave you? Says who?” he asked, his voice ragged, the strength in the hand that held my wrist waning.

I then did something uncharacteristic…something I swore I would never do again…I fell upon him…kissing his face, his hair, his neck, his hands, all the while bathing him in my tears. When I pressed my lips to his, Malfoy’s hand wrapped about the back of my neck, pulling me closer as if trying absorb my warmth. My hands, which rested on either side of his head, slipped in the blood on the floor, and our kiss deepened.

He tasted like Polyjuice potion and blood, but it did not matter to me. He was alive, I hadn’t killed him!

Pulling away to breathe, I looked down onto Malfoy’s scarred face, unsure of how to compose myself or what to say. He gazed up at me, his face flushed as if blood flow had been restored to his nearly vanquished body, his lips swollen.

“I should die more often,” he muttered, his lips moving to form that scoundrel-like smile that I had grown to find irresistible. “Where’s Potter?”

I pulled away, my lips trembling again. “Not here, or I would not be fussing over you.”

“The Elder Wand?”

I blinked, and looked down to my lap. It had been the wand I was using to heal Malfoy, and healed he seemed, the wound nearly shut in the front. I assumed the wound was sealed in his back as well, but he was in dire need of a Blood Replenishing Draught.

I raised the wand, and showed it to him.

“You’re the master of it now, Granger. Now we have a chance…” Malfoy said softly, the fatigue clear in his voice. “And the box?”

“I would have rather died…” I said tapping the lead next to me, Malfoy’s left eye moving to the box.

“Good girl…

I saw the Fiendfyre…”

I let my chin fall, remembering how Crabbe had died in the Room of Requirement. I wished then that Malfoy had not seen it.

“A violet bird looking thing…” he muttered, his eyelid growing heavy.

“It didn’t stop him, Malfoy,” I said softly, knowing that if he slept he would not die…

“No matter…he took my eye…I took his hand…”

Malfoy’s eye shut, and his breathing evened. As he slipped into a deep sleep, the sound of feet pounding distracted me from staring at the smile on his lips.

“Miss Granger!” a familiar voice shouted, causing me to look up at the source of the voice.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Williamson, Flint, and Lucius Malfoy circled around Malfoy and I, all with faces full of surprise and concern.

“It took you long enough!” I snarled, gathering up both wands, sliding them into my sleeve, and the box, which I hugged to my chest again. “Malfoy needs a Healer, Flint, you take him!”

I sounded just as authoritative as Malfoy, but Marcus Flint, a boy I remembered from school…one of Malfoy’s most trusted, moved at the snap of my voice, gently casting a levitating Charm and leading Malfoy away. I watched wistfully, wishing I could follow, but the three older men were looking to me for explanation.

“Was it not obvious that Malfoy was battling Harry Potter in the Ministry of Magic halls? Where the hell were the Aurors, Williamson?”

Williamson’s dark face drained of blood. “We were attacked in the Department of Mysteries, six were killed…I followed Potter and lost him…”

“And the ones posted along the hall?” I asked, apparently the expression on my face and the glint in my eye frightening the immediate truth out of Williamson.

“Dead…we just found their bodies stuffed into a broom cupboard.”

“There was a barrier preventing anyone to get near, Miss Granger. We could see and hear everything that was happening, but only until a moment ago were we able to dispel it,” Lucius Malfoy supplied at my right, his face as stoic and cold as ever.

“How did you…?” I began, my eyes narrowing to gaze at Lucius’ face. Why was he at the Ministry of Magic Headquarters?

“It is not important, Miss Granger, what is important is that you are safe, and Draco will be attended to.”

I had to nod in agreement, but my eyes turned to Kingsley…Lucius had mentioned he had been recalled with the rest of Aurors, many of which were now dead.

“Malfoy took off Harry’s hand,” I said to Kingsley, pointing to the pale mound of flesh laying a way down the hall. “And the Fiendfyre was my doing. I’m sure the Ministry will take the cost of repairs out of my salary.”

Kingsley smiled. “Perhaps not, Hermione.”

Kingsley still called me Hermione…and it seemed so natural.

“Has anyone been injured?” I asked, remembering Roux.

Kingsley shook his baldhead. “The Ministry is secure. It seems Har-Potter only made it as far as the entrance to the Department of Mysteries, but could not enter. He engaged the Aurors there…and I’m sure you saw the aftermath.”

I nodded…another thought coming to me.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” Kingsley asked, but I had already begun to walk away…past Harry’s severed hand, toward the scorched and still smoking floor. Sliding one of the two wands from my sleeve, I cast a levitation Charm on myself, and glided over the ruined stones to land on the other side.

Moving along the floor, I spotted what I suspected had been forgotten in Harry’s haste. In a pile of muted colors was Harry’s Invisibility Cloak.

The Fates were smiling upon me.

I picked the cloak up from the floor, folding it over the same arm in which I cradled the lead box. I had two of the three Hallows. Just as Malfoy had said, Harry was getting sloppy in his desperation.

When I returned to the two men, I said nothing about the cloak, and reassured Kingsley that I was fine, a bit shaken, but unharmed. I then turned to Lucius, who had retrieved Malfoy’s wands and held them carefully in a gloved hand, surprising him by asking if I could be taken to his son.





Wiscombe seemed very putout with having to treat Malfoy again, however, was grateful that Malfoy’s wounds were very nearly healed when he arrived at Malfoy Manor. A day of bed rest and some potions would set Malfoy to rights, or so Wiscombe told me as he left Malfoy’s childhood bedroom, the evening after I became the new master of the Elder Wand.

Narcissa and I had waited in the kitchens, as had become habit, and I pondered the new wand resting against the walnut counterpart in my sleeve. I had used the wand to heal Malfoy, therefore I was the true master of the wand… I had taken it from Harry’s severed hand…

Narcissa’s arm about my shoulders kept me from shivering at the memory of the previous hours. Lady Malfoy was upset enough about her son to have to worry about me. I was not her daughter, I was not her ward…in fact, I did not know what she considered me besides a guest in her home.

Later, Narcissa and I waited outside Malfoy’s room when Wiscombe left. Narcissa went in first, and only a few moments later came to the door to bid me enter.

Malfoy lay on his old bed, sitting up, a hand over a small bandage on his bare chest.

“A strong ‘impaling’ hex…went straight through me, but missed the vital bits…” Malfoy explained to me and his mother.

“Another from ‘The Hanged Man?’” I asked softly.

Malfoy nodded. “And so was the one he was going to use on you before I cut his damned hand off. He was going to burn you from the inside out, Granger,” Malfoy intoned darkly.

Narcissa pressed a hand to her mouth, shaking her head.

“But he didn’t, and that’s all that matters,” I said, more for Narcissa than Malfoy who smirked, and laid back into his pillows.

“Yes, my dear…but it makes me sick to my stomach…thank Merlin Draco was there!”

I stifled a snort, glancing to Malfoy.

“Mother, tomorrow, I’m returning to my quarters to convalesce,” Malfoy announced, winking at me strangely, making my face flush.

“What? Why?” Narcissa asked in mock distress.

“Never mind that…you’ll have Granger to keep you company. Maybe you can dress her up like you did today. You’ve always told me you wished I had been a daughter…”

“I have never said such a thing, Draco!”

I laughed, I couldn’t help myself.

“Ah, but you should have seen Granger today, Mother. She was almost pretty in her frock dress and cloak…battling against evil…”

“Draco, that’s enough!” Narcissa insisted in clipped motherly tones.

I did not laugh.

“I say ‘almost’ pretty because her hair is too short…”

I lowered my eyes to the side of Malfoy’s bed.

“…she looked like a little boy…”

Malfoy chuckled, but Narcissa glared at her son. He said something more, but I ignored it, excusing myself and moving across the room, gently shutting the door behind me. I did not cry, I had cried enough that day.

I did not like being teased, not as a child, not as an adult. So, when I returned to my rooms on the third floor, the first thing I did was strip out of the frock dress Malfoy had mentioned, and all the undergarments, throwing them to the floor as I stormed to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, my angry face could have broken the glass. Instead, I pulled both of my wands from their holster, jerking the holster off to throw it angrily to the marble floor. I abandoned my walnut wand in lieu of my new acquisition. And standing naked before the mirror I raised it to my head.

I did not have to speak the incantation, for the wand responded to my intention…and a shiver passed through me as caramel hair sprang from my scalp in waves. I stared at my reflection until the waves fell to my waist before I pulled the wand away.

I set the Elder Wand aside on the sink counter and studied myself. My hair was not a mess, or frizzy, but sleek and thick. The weight of the hair pulled the curls into waves, and as I ran my fingers through the strands, I wondered if somehow the texture of my hair had changed. I had been ill for so long, under curses that had racked my body almost to ruin. I had heard that people in the Muggle world who lost their hair due to illness usually found the texture of their hair changed when it grew again. Of course, I had not actually lost my hair, it had been cut…but still, my hair was different.

Pulling the hair forward so that it fell over my shoulders, hiding my breasts, I laughed…I looked like Lady Godiva with brown hair…

I was satisfied. I, for probably the first time in my life, liked my hair. It was similar to the hair I had had under Polyjuice…long and pretty.

Malfoy could not tease me.

“Hermione?” a voice called from the door to the bedroom.

I scrambled for something to put on, finding only a bathrobe on the back of the door, one I had never used. Cinching the belt about my waist, I entered the room just as Narcissa bent to pick up the dark green taffeta frock.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy…I was going to hang it up…” I said feeling guilty that I had treated the dress Narcissa had lent me so carelessly.

“My dear…your hair!” Narcissa exclaimed as she rose to look at me.

I blinked. “Does it look bad?”

I remembered that my idea of ‘pretty’ was not the commonly accepted notion. Perhaps my hair looked horrible, as it always had before.

“Goodness, no! It is lovely!” Narcissa cried, gliding across the room to me, her pale hand touching the crown of my head, and around my face to the locks that rested against my shoulder. “I had forgotten that when you came here your hair was long… Oh, but you did not do this because of what Draco said?”

“Of course, I did. He’s been teasing me for weeks…” I muttered, my face falling.

“Never mind him, Hermione…it is just the way he is. At least he is teasing you, and not insulting you.”

Narcissa had a point. I did know the difference between teasing and insulting…

“I wanted to see if you were well, Hermione. You’ve said so little since you returned. And I know you kept quiet in the kitchen because you thought you’d spare my nerves…”

I opened my mouth, but Narcissa raised a hand, lowering it to take my arm and lead me to my bed where she sat me down, her next to me. I was surprised at how informal Narcissa was acting, tossing the taffeta dress thoughtlessly over the footboard of the bed.

“Draco told me that Potter said…said that you were ‘his?’”

“Yes,” I whispered, folding my hands against the dark terry cloth of the robe, unsure what to do with them at that moment.

“That bothers me,” Narcissa said distantly. “Why would he say something like that?”

I sighed. “He also said Ron was ‘his’ as well. I can only imagine that Harry meant that we were ‘his’ only friends…”

“Or that he loves you, Hermione…in some twisted regard. If Potter cannot reach Ronald Weasley, he has settled himself upon you. Draco says that he did not cast one spell at you, except at the very end.”

I nodded, pleased to feel my own hair falling over my shoulders once again. “He knew he could not kill me out right, so he chose a more violent end. And I would have been defenseless to stop it if Malfoy had not…”

The shaking I had repressed came upon me, and soon I found myself hiding in Narcissa Malfoy’s thin arms. I rested my head upon her shoulder, but did not embrace her…it seemed too informal…

“I have said it once, Hermione, and I will say it again…Draco will take great care with you…great care of you…” Narcissa whispered.

I did not question her words. Already a seed had been planted in my heart. I had declared that I needed Malfoy when I believed him dead. I had willingly kissed him, wanting to kiss him more when I learned that he had not died. I had even Charmed my hair in reaction to his words. I was a bit more than simply ‘fond’ of Malfoy, but I was ignorant to know if what I felt was even an inkling of ‘love.’

Pulling from Narcissa’s embrace, thoughts of Malfoy banished my courses of shivering, I smiled at her.

“Draco has his mind set about returning to the groom’s quarters tomorrow…you should go with him,” Narcissa suggested lightly.

I blinked at her, my smile fading. “I don’t know…the last time I was there I ended up spraining my ankle and making a complete ass of myself.”

Narcissa smiled, and with a laugh, said, “So I’ve been told.

That little apartment is Draco’s home. I’m just happy that he let you go there. I, for one, have never been allowed to visit. So your visit must say something for his regard for you, Hermione.

I am sure he would want you go with him. I am also sure that you have much to discuss…” Narcissa trailed, her eyes moving to the lead box resting by my bed on the small end table.

I had placed it there soon after returning to the Manor, and had quickly forgotten about it. I glanced at the rune-covered box out of the corner of my eye. I knew I would have to find a place to hide it, eventually. Merlin forbid Harry somehow make it onto the Malfoy lands… Just because I had two of the Hallows, I was not going to let myself think that Harry had been rendered powerless.

I moved my eyes to my old coat resting in a heap near the door. I had stuffed the Invisibility Cloak inside, not mentioning it to anyone, not even to Malfoy. He knew I had the Elder Wand, and at that moment, that was all he needed to know.

Narcissa talked with me a while longer, asking me if I would mind if she bought me a few outfits. I was hesitant at first, asking if it would have to be all frock dresses, knowing that she would not accept my refusals. I liked the dress, but when I had worn it earlier that day, I was not wearing my own face.

“No, no…just some skirts and blouses…unless you would like a frock dress?”

I laughed. I conveyed that a few skirts a bit newer than the ones I usually wore would be nice, and a few summery tops…

“Although I do not want to infringe on your kindness into the summer…”

I was not saying this merely out of politeness. I did hope that everything…Harry…the Hallows…the Time-Turners would be a memory by summer. And somehow, I could not imagine my life in a future tense as easily as I once had.

Finally, Narcissa excused herself, bidding me a goodnight, and left me to my own thoughts. I moved back to the bathroom smiling sadly into the mirror again at my hair. I drew a bath, and slid into the near scalding water. My thoughts did not linger on Harry or Malfoy, but what the Titans had said.

The night Voldemort was reborn…

Little Hangleton, the graveyard, the night Cedric Diggory was murdered…

If one thought about it long, it seemed a logical choice. Voldemort’s location was certain, and after Harry would Portkey back to Hogwarts, Voldemort would have been in a rage…confused by his prey’s sudden departure. In one fell swoop, one could eliminate Voldemort and his inner circle bar one or two. It would be easy in the confusion after Harry’s escape.

The Lestranges would remain in Azkaban, Sirius would be exonerated after Peter Pettigrew was identified in the graveyard, and Albus would not search for the Horcruxes and eventually die. The DA would not need to exist, Umbridge would not need to go to Hogwarts. Severus, if he would be spared, would not have to kill Albus…Narcissa, if she be spared, would not have to take the Vow, and Malfoy would not have to serve Voldemort…

I sighed as I remembered that Harry would not care a whit about Malfoy or Severus, and would probably rather kill them than let them exist in his new world. Harry had called Malfoy his nemesis… However, this sentiment was a gross misconception for many reasons.

Then there was the Resurrection Stone…Harry still had it. If he were planning to return to that night in Little Hangleton, why would he need the Stone? The younger Harry had taken Cedric Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts making it difficult to save the boy. The Titans had said explicitly that Harry would not save Cedric… I could only imagine that Harry would use the Stone as a sort of insurance, lest someone be killed that Harry would want to live…

I was still missing a piece of the puzzle.

I rose from the bath to find my hair a bit curlier as it was damp, and instead of casting a Drying Charm, I wrapped the heavy strands in towel. Finishing my ablutions, I crawled into bed, happy to have hair once again, and happy to have survived another encounter with my best, hated, friend.