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 kazfeist for taking on the task of perfecting this part! kazfeist, you have my eternal love and admiration!


The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man


Part 2



Malfoy let me hold him as I cried into his grey fur, purring oddly enough. I had barely stepped out of the fireplace of the cottage before I began crying. All that I felt for Minerva came out in my grief. She had been my Head of House, my friend, and my surrogate mother for so many years. She was gone…gone forever…gone before her time.

I cried for twenty minutes straight before I started to think about Harry. As soon as his face, his young face, swam into my thoughts, I started to retch. Malfoy hissed when I dropped him and ran for the loo, vomiting the contents of my stomach and intestines… I was still crying, and I could feel vomit in my nose and not just my mouth. Falling back against the bathtub, I moaned. My face was swollen, my hair disgusting, my clothes wet with sweat, and my heart breaking…or at least what was left of it.

My mental image of Harry was of him on his wedding day, the last time I had seen him. He was so happy that day. His hair was still as untidy, his eyes still as green, his dress robes cut to perfection and his smile radiant like the sun itself. The lightning bolt scar had faded so that it was barely noticeable, and his demeanour spoke of a man who had gotten, finally, everything he had ever wanted. A family…a wife…a home…normalcy.

I retched again, but nothing came. Malfoy watched me curiously from the door, his long, thin silver tipped tail swishing back and forth along the stone floor. I sat for a long time, staring at the cat, letting my body and mind settle. A very long time passed before I was able to stand to pull my wand from my coat and begin cleaning up after myself.

It was dark before I felt comfortable again in a nightgown and fuzzy slippers, cup of tea and Malfoy on my lap before the fire. My head ached, but the tea was helping. No owls had come, and I felt thankful for the privacy once again. I decided that in the morning I would call for the centaurs, a thing I had done only once…when I moved into the cottage…and inform them of the current state of things. That had been our agreement, after all.

I would have to return to work again; it seemed like a sanctuary to me. No one at work had mentioned Harry before, why would they now? No one pried into my personal life…every one called me Jane. I almost looked forward to work.

I slept fitfully that night, and when dawn came, I was already preparing a trek into the Forest. I fed Malfoy his cream and told him to look after the cottage, I wouldn’t be gone long. And I wasn’t. The centaurs were immediately upon me when I came to the edge of the nearest boundary. Two males, scouts by the look of them, listened as I told them about Harry. I asked that if they did find him to inform Hogwarts immediately. The centaurs nodded, and I expressed my thanks. To my surprise the centaurs thanked me for the news, I did not ask why. I made it back to the cottage within two hours of leaving to find a familiar owl waiting on the outside sill of the kitchen window.

“’Mione, funeral in two days by the Lake. Love, Hagrid.”

The scribbles had become so familiar to me that if it had been ten years before, I would have had a hard time reading the tear-stained missive. I clutched the note to my chest and let out a sob.

It was real. Minerva was dead.

I swallowed my tears, fed the owl while Malfoy watched jealously, and penned a quick note back to Hagrid.

‘Be there in the early morning, let’s have breakfast tea. Love, ‘Mione.’

I had to call off work again. I had at least two month’s worth of leave, and I had barely touched it. So, the call to work was no pain on my part, only a hint of disappointment from the Department Head who had apparently counted on me too much, but sympathized with my situation, even though the Head had…

I went to my wardrobe and found a dress that would be suitable; a dress I knew Minerva liked, for it had been hers, many years ago. I held the dress up to my body in the mirror inside the wardrobe and smiled. I had never been one for fashion, and to this day, most of my clothes are old and worn. The only thing I ever spend money on are shoes.

The dress was black sateen with a mid-calf hem, the waist was belted with wide leather, and the neckline draped in the front, almost obscenely. The back buttoned up, and the sleeves, belled, came just past my elbows. It was a bit old-fashioned, but it was elegant. Coupled with my mother’s pearls, a pair of black patent leather pumps and a net hat, I would have made Minerva proud, looking every bit like a 1940s cinema femme fatale, missing only a small silver gun in my handbag. It had been Minerva’s favourite dress, and Minerva had given it to me.

Sad smiles were all I could manage to my reflection in the mirror. I would be pretty enough for me, I knew.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




Hagrid said I looked pretty when I entered his hut, breakfast already set out. The funeral was not until noon. During my covert jog between the castle and the hut, I could see that Neville was overseeing the placement of chairs before the Lake. Apparently, Minerva was to be interred in a tomb next to Albus. I idly wondered if her portrait was already installed in, now, Neville’s office.

“It’s gonna be hard for him, ‘Mione,” Hagrid said when I mentioned Neville.

Hagrid passed me an oversized cup and saucer, careful not to spill any on my lap as we sat around his kitchen table. I nodded at his words and took a sip of strong black tea, trying not to cough. It has taken years of Hagrid’s tea for me not to choke.

Setting the cup and saucer on the table, I studied my muddy boots. I had slipped my pumps into the pocket of my coat, which rested across the wide armrest of Hagrid’s armchair. I had walked through the Forest, foregoing the Floo in case I would be seen.

“The Aurors have not contacted me, have they talked to everyone else?”

“Everyone they believed to be of so-called importance,” Hagrid said before blushing. He thought he had insulted me, but I smiled…Hagrid had not meant anything ill by his words.

“I doubt there would be much I could say,” I said with a shrug. It was true…I had no real information, only speculations. There was so much I did not know.

“I haven’t heard a thing. Neville and Arthur don’t know much, either. The investigators came, and one of the Department Healers inspected…inspected the body…”

Hagrid dissolved into tears. All I could think to do was pat his large hand and push his tea toward him. Recovering quickly, Hagrid sipped loudly at his tea and wiped his tears into his hair.

“They suspect foul play, then?”

Hagrid nodded, apparently not ready to speak just yet. I sat back into the rough wood of the kitchen chair. If only I could see the Healer’s report…

“But there’s no way Harry could have done it, ‘Mione, you know that, don’t ya?” Hagrid asked miserably.

I could not answer. I did not know what to think.

“The Aurors probably believe that Minerva and Harry are connected…that is usually their thinking…” I spat.

“They are still working with Neville to access the wards; they were working late last night. There were a few of them walking the grounds with their wands out, like they were searching for something.”

I hmmmed to myself, and remembered my tea. We sat drinking in silence for a long time, the fire nice and warm against my left side. I turned our conversation to a lighter note, mentioning Malfoy. Although I told Hagrid I still couldn’t think of a suitable name. I blanched internally at the reaction Hagrid would have at the name had chosen.

“Those half-Kneazles are sharp creatures. You couldn’t have a full Kneazle, they’re too full of themselves, not personable at all…” Hagrid went on, apparently thankful for something light to talk about. I found that I was thankful for light conversation, as well.

We talked about old times, the times where Hagrid had acquired some new creature or another. We talked about Buckbeak and Norbert. After a while, we were laughing again, like we had only a few weeks before. It was not long until noon came upon us, and we quickly arranged ourselves, Hagrid donning his ugly fur dress coat and me my pumps. I Transfigured my coat into a warm cloak and threw it over my shoulder, raising the hood.

As I walked with Hagrid, I could already see the people gathering along the shore, and the smaller white tomb in which Minerva was to be laid. Hagrid had once again taken up the duty of placing the body, and he excused himself to go to the castle.

The wind was brisk off the Lake, and I lowered my hood a bit more. I noticed many familiar faces: Hogwarts staff, Ministry officials, and the stiff formality of Aurors. I placed myself in the penultimate’ row of chairs, on the outside of the group. I sat down and waited, watching as people began filling in the chairs. I spotted the Weasley clan, or what remained of it, toward the front. Ron was not present, which did not surprise me. Surely he was off somewhere around the other side of the world and unable to come. I spotted the Lovegoods near the Weasleys, as well as Neville’s family, and his grandmother who had been the same age as Minerva.

There were other familiar families, all once having been Gryffindors or contemporaries with Minerva. But none of them noticed me, just as I wanted it.

When the funeral began, I remembered Dumbledore’s service. Minerva’s was much smaller than his. Hagrid came from the castle, carrying what was left of my mentor, wrapped in a red velvet shroud. He was crying just as he had been at Albus’ funeral, and I, despite my best efforts, began to cry as well.

It was Professor Flitwick who did the formalities, nearly breaking down twice as Hagrid laid the body atop the tomb. Flitwick spoke the last words, ‘so mote it be.’ The tomb flashed a brilliant gold, and Minerva McGonagall was entombed. I shuddered.

The crowd began to dissipate then, some heading for the gate, others for the castle for a small reception. I sat very still as they passed, unnoticed by all. And when I deemed it safe, I stood. There were only a few people lingering; Aurors mostly, Neville and Arthur talking with an Auror I did not recognize. I moved toward the tomb, noticing that the current Gryffindor house had sent a wreath of red and gold roses. I smirked through my tears; Minerva had cared little for roses. In fact, she preferred wildflowers. I was of the same mind. Neither of us were the hothouse flower type…

The white marble was warm from the winter sunlight as I laid my hand upon it. Three people who had been important to my development lay on this shore, and I glanced at the other two tombs. All three had been heroes, Minerva the only one to survive Voldemort’s madness. She would be the last to be entombed on this shore.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard Severus Snape snicker, and the words ‘I’m no hero,’ echo through the ether. I smiled. Snape had been a hero to me. As had Minerva.

“Any thoughts on Minerva McGonagall’s passing, Miss Granger?” a voice said from behind me and very close to my ear.

I whirled about, pulling my wand. Not another damn reporter!

But as my hood shifted, I saw that I was not aiming at a reporter, not unless he had taken up the profession.

“Oh, hexing me would not be a good idea, Miss Granger,” he drawled, his gloved hands up in a pose of surrender.

My eyes narrowed. I wanted to cackle insanely, I wanted to attack, I wanted to scream for help, and I wanted to quickly disappear all at the same time. Of all the people in the wide world, it would have to be Draco sodding Malfoy who would recognize me, and, most of all, rile me. I quickly composed myself and shoved my wand back into my Transfigured cloak, pulling back the hood to let the sunlight hit my face.

Malfoy blinked, and strangely enough, smiled.

“I am so glad I was right…it is you.”

I blinked back. He had been guessing? The bleeding ferret should have died ten years ago!

“What is that you need, Mr. Malfoy?”

Oh, that sounded officious enough.

“I have a few questions for you.”

I sighed. “Are you a reporter?”

“Merlin’s beard, of course not!”

I felt my brow furrow. I could not remember if Draco Malfoy did anything besides being the most arrogant prick known to mankind.

“I work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

I frowned, “You…you are an Auror?”

It seemed ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Draco Malfoy, an Auror? Hell must have frozen over.

“A bright witch like yourself must know that there are no such things as Aurors anymore. There aren’t enough Dark Wizards to fill a teaspoon nowadays, Miss Granger.”

His tone was condescending.

“I am part of the ‘police force,’ now.”

He was talking down to me as if I were three years old.

“Surely you are familiar with how a police system works, being Muggleborn.”

And he did not say ‘Mudblood.’

“Of course I know what the ‘police’ are, you ridiculous man.”

“Do you want to see my credentials, or my badge?”

I wanted to hex him, now! But he did pull out a wallet from inside a pocket in his dapper grey suit. I could see a wand in a chest holster just inside, and I could tell that he had a second wand strapped to the inside of his left sleeve.

With a flourish, the wallet opened, and there inside was a silver badge, a true mark of a person who was part of the Ministry’s new concept of law enforcement. The number on his badge was 999, and I filed that bit of information away to think upon another time. His name was printed on a plastic ID card, along with a moving picture of his head, spinning slowly to show every aspect of his profile. I read the ID and quickly looked away.

DCI…Draco A. Malfoy, Detective Chief Inspector.

I wanted to vomit. Draco Malfoy was the Detective Chief Inspector of Magical Law Enforcement, two steps from being Detective Chief Superintendent...

He flipped the wallet closed and stuffed it back into his coat.

“I have a few questions about your former Head of House, Miss Granger. Do you have a few moments to talk?”

So formal… I turned to regard him again. It had been almost ten years since I had last seen him, but if I had not recognized the blond hair and the trademark Malfoy family drawl, I would have deigned him to be a distant cousin of the Malfoy family and not Draco Malfoy himself. That was how much he had changed.

He was taller than I remembered, but then again, I was always on the short side. His hair was still pale platinum, but no longer slicked back. In fact, he had his hair cut very short, the only length spiked up in sharp spires. He did not look like Lucius, but more like a picture Harry had shown me of Regulus Black…Draco and Regulus were related, after all. The snivelling ferret face and cold eyes were softer, more masculine and adult. The only things that had not changed were the smug quirk of his lips and the cold gleam in his silver eyes.

“Five to ten minutes, at most, Miss Granger.”

I came back to myself, and looked about, noting that Arthur was watching my interaction with Draco Malfoy with a face full of concern. Almost everyone else was gone, and Hagrid had yet to collect and escort me to the dungeons as he had promised. I had had every intention of going straight home after the funeral.

However, Malfoy’s badge was legitimate as best as I could tell, and Arthur was not coming over to rescue me.

“Miss Granger?”

There was impatience in his voice, and suddenly I felt like a cornered animal. My feet itched to run…but running often gave the impression that one was guilty of something.

“Private, someplace private, if you don’t mind, Detective Chief Inspector,” I managed to say, my throat closing up from some unidentifiable fear.

Malfoy smiled, and the fear increased. “Of course, Miss Granger. Shall we walk?”

I nearly reeled when he offered his arm to me. But I took it, using my other hand to replace my hood. It would not do for anyone but Arthur Weasley to see me walking with Draco Malfoy.

This had to be nightmare. I walked, slowly, not quite comfortable with the pumps sinking into the sodden ground. The February sun had melted most of the snow, creating a muddy quagmire for any woman in heels. But I walked, trying not to think about the man at my side and how in the world he had bought his way into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. ‘Police Force,’ my fat arse! I had always called them Aurors, but that had been a different time. I knew better than to think that Draco Malfoy was an Auror…but he must be a Hit-Wizard or some amalgamation of Auror/Hit-Wizard. Merlin, I had isolated myself too effectively.

We walked toward the greenhouses and when we came to the nearest one, Malfoy suggested we step inside and warm ourselves. I did not answer, but stepped into Greenhouse 9 where Neville usually conducted Seventh Year classes. At the moment, there were only a few pots of aloe inside, and nothing else. It was warm, though, and I was thankful for that.

I watched Malfoy closely as he shut the door and drew his wand from the chest holster, moving down a row of worktables, glancing keenly about before casting a Charm to isolate our conversation. With a façade of civility he motioned me to sit upon a crate of pots while he pulled himself upon the edge of a worktable, sitting above me. It was unnerving. I knew he was wanting to put himself on some psychological high ground…

“You work for the Department of Mysteries, do you not?”

His voice was almost saccharine, placating. I wanted to claw his eyes out.

“You know I do.”

“Ah, but you did not know I worked in the same building; why is that?”

He had always hated me, and I wondered how long it took for him to plan such a terrible form of revenge.

“I do not have much dealings with other departments. My work is classified.”

“Yes, as an Unspeakable. Well…I hope you will speak about a few matters that my department would like to clear up.”

I wanted to gape at him.

“First, the fact that there is no record of residence for you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“We find it peculiar, a bit suspect.”

‘We’ meaning the higher ups in the Ministry, I could only assume.

“I live in a house, which is Unplottable. If you were to send an owl, the post would arrive. If you were to call by Floo, you most likely would receive an answer.”

He smiled. It was a terrible smile, again, placating.

“You do not give your address for the sake of privacy?”

“Exactly.”

Malfoy crossed his arms, and I knew then, he was finally going to get to the point, and it did not really have to do with Minerva.

“When was the last time you saw Potter?”

The smiles were gone, as was the saccharine tone, and I was glad for it. This was the Draco Malfoy I remembered…cruel, spoilt, and demanding.

“At his wedding, eight or so years ago.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously and my feet itched again to run.

“So you had no contact with him while he was inside St. Mungo’s psychiatric ward?”

“Until recently, I had no idea that he was ill.”

“And how did you find out?”

I tried not to think too much, murmuring, “Someone at work left a copy of the Prophet laying about a few months ago…I think there was something about Harry in an editorial…”

The worst part was that I had no idea if it were true. But Malfoy nodded sharply.

“What about Ronald Weasley, has he been about, lately?”

I frowned. “Is someone suspecting Ron for something? He works in your department, Malfoy.”

“Yes, one of the last Aurors. He is suspected of no wrongdoing, I was just asking for the sake of information.”

I sighed. “The last bit of news of Ron came to me by postcard at Christmas. He said he was in Bali.”

Malfoy nodded again, and I was quickly growing annoyed.

“Look, Malfoy, I don’t know exactly what you are getting at, or what any of this has to do with Minerva…but won’t you tell me what this is really about?”

I sounded like I was begging, and perhaps I was. I had cut myself off from the world a little too well. I no longer had friends in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or in the Minister’s office, for that matter.

“This is about Harry Potter, Granger. And with you being one of his best friends, supposedly, it is only natural I ask you questions.”

He stood, brushing off the back of his suit. His silver eyes peered down at me, and I could feel him judging me, sizing me up in an instant.

“I just told you all I know. I just found out that my best friend is insane, a killer and now on the run. To top it off, my mentor and former Head of House, has just died! I do not know what is going on, and I would like you, or someone with the capacity, to tell me!”

The tears came, and my cheeks flushed. I am stronger than this, and I certainly did not want Malfoy, of all people, to see me cry.

“Your Potter has been here at Hogwarts, Granger, and he has killed Minerva McGonagall, along with Aberforth Dumbledore in Hogsmeade. He is now considered ‘armed and dangerous,’ and from all of my indications, he has not gotten far from Hogwarts.”

I fainted. I honestly fainted at Malfoy’s words. I could say why I had fainted, exactly, but my worst fears had been confirmed.

When I came to, it was to find Malfoy holding me as Arthur wiped at my face with a piece of wet flannel. Hagrid was arguing with someone, and I quickly realized I was on the floor of the greenhouse. Then it came…although I tried to stop it…all my breakfast and breakfast tea spewed from my mouth in a great fit of sick…spilling down Malfoy’s impeccable grey suit.

Somehow, I felt vindicated.

Arthur sat me up on the crate from which I’d tumbled when I fainted, asking me if I had hit my head. He fussed worse than Molly ever had, and I swatted him away, resting my elbows on my knees. I finally got my head to stop spinning, and the truth of situation settled neatly in my brain. Once again, I faintly heard Severus Snape’s voice, but I could not make out the words.

“Jane, dear, are you alright?” Arthur whispered.

I nodded slowly. It was too warm in the greenhouse and I motioned for Arthur to help me to my feet. Outside, I realized Hagrid was arguing with two Aurors…scratch that, two detectives in plain clothes. Arthur held my arm gingerly as I made my way to the corner of the greenhouse and began retching again. Nothing came.

I started digging through the inner pocket of my Transfigured cloak, finding the last phial of Pepper Up. I used my teeth to pull out the cork, spitting it out onto the ground and dumped the potion down my throat. The effect was immediate, and I could breathe again, think again.

Arthur rubbed circles into my back, and although I found the gesture calming, I found it unnecessary. I pulled away from Arthur and walked back to the door of the greenhouse where Draco Malfoy stood looking down the empty worktables, sick still staining the front of his nice, expensive suit. He seemed dishevelled and as he raised a hand to scratch his chin absently, I noticed he was missing an emerald cuff link. A sick sense of satisfaction washed over me.

Hagrid pushed at the policemen who stood firm, gazing into the greenhouse to Malfoy, as if expecting instructions. I realized then how important Malfoy really was, after all.

“You think he might come for me, don’t you?”

I felt Arthur’s hand on my shoulder, but ignored it as I spoke to Draco Malfoy’s back.

“It is a possibility. We know you live somewhere in the Forest, he might venture there.”

Malfoy did not turn, and it angered me.

“He doesn’t know that I live in the Forest. The only people who knew were Hagrid, Minerva, and Albus Dumbledore’s portrait!”

“And now Arthur Weasley and my men outside… Potter could have extracted that bit of information from McGonagall before he killed her, have you thought of that?”

I recoiled. No, I hadn’t had the time…

“How did he kill her?”

My voice was small, and I immediately hated myself.

“A little known suffocating curse. He literally stole the breath from her lungs. It was a quick death, but painful. He rearranged her body so that no one would see how she had clawed at him or the bed,” he said, still not turning to look at me, somehow fascinated with the way the sun was just then coming around the castle to light the greenhouse.

I turned my own attention to the sick on his shoes. They were Italian shoes, worth more than what I made in six months.

“Her fingernails…” I muttered, the realization setting in.

“Coupled with his signature in the wards.”

“But fingernail scrapings are Mug…” I began.

“Our department has adopted Muggle technology, Granger. We’re not totally in the dark ages,” he drawled unamused, pulling out his wand and finally cleaning the sick off his body. He made a disapproving noise and I caught a curse under his breath.

“Why her? Why Old Abe?”

It was what I was thinking, but Arthur was the first to ask it. He was as desperate as I for answers, Harry was still his son-in-law, I believed.

“We do not know for certain, and honestly, Mr. Weasley, do you think I would tell you any more than I already have?”

Malfoy turned, his eyes like frozen mercury. The sneer on his face was familiar, as was the tone of his voice. Those eyes moved from Arthur to me, and I swallowed thickly.

“You are to be put into protective custody, Miss Granger.”

Triumph, it was clear in his voice.

“Absolutely not!”

Malfoy blinked and a few panes of glass above his head rattled. I amaze myself sometimes.

“I have not tried to keep people out of my life for ten years just to have you barging in again! I have enough protection, thank you very much. And if, for a moment, I feel as if I am in danger, I can get myself out. I did not live through Voldemort or his Death Eater without learning how to defend myself.”

I especially stressed ‘Death Eaters’ for Malfoy’s sake, but it did not seem to phase him. He only reapplied that placating, sickly-sweet, boyish smile, and said something that shocked me to the very core.

“Have it your way, Granger…”



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



It was after dark when I was able to return home. After Malfoy, it was his men who interrogated me with the same questions… Then I had to convince Arthur I did not want to go to the Burrow, that I was no safer there than my own home. If Harry were truly insane, he might as well go after his own wife rather than me. Of course, the logic of that statement was terribly flawed for many reasons. Hagrid detained me further by forcing me to eat something in the kitchens of the castle since I had ‘puked’ up everything I had had for breakfast. I ended up taking away a parcel of pineapple cake in my bottomless pocket.

I opted out of taking the Floo home, there were still too many ‘policemen’ about, watching every person in and out of the castle. However, my secret passage was still secret and Horace stuck his head out of his office door to pass me the book he meant to give me the day Minerva died…the Lives of Dark Lords, seventh edition.

I swapped my pumps for my boots and added a warming Charm to the coat and took off into the Forest. I walked without looking, too wrapped up in my own thoughts. So much had happened that I knew it would take time to process it all. But the fact that Harry had definitely killed Minerva seemed as much a nightmare as Draco Malfoy being a Detective Chief Inspector.

When I came upon the outermost set of wards, I frowned. What if Harry were looking for me and some how found out that I was in the Forest? I shook my head and pushed through the first set of wards, onto the second through seventh layer within a matter of seconds. I paused at the last and tenth ward, thinking that maybe, just maybe Harry was really clever enough to get past ten layers of wards. But…I was home and everything seemed normal from the outside. I let my forehead fall into my palm at the thought of Malfoy…the cat. What were the chances that I would see Malfoy…the Detective Chief Inspector at Minerva’s funeral? I had to tell Malfoy, the cat, about this…

Through the door, locking it behind me, I started to laugh softly. If only I could just wake up from this nightmare!

I flicked my wand toward the fireplace and heat suffused the room. I did not bother with the candles, the moonlight streaming through the windows enough illumination for me to move about.

“Malfoy…Malfoy, where are you?” I called, surprised the cat had not greeted me at the door.

I pathetic mewl from the bathroom made me turn as I was hanging my coat on the peg. I missed the peg entirely and the heavy coat fell to the stone floor.

“Malfoy, you silly thing, did you get yourself shut in the loo?” I called with a laugh, moving through the dark to the bathroom door. I tried to remember how in the world the door could have shut when I found myself falling, skidding across the stone floor until my head slammed into the front door.

Spots…only spots. I shook my head, realizing that I no longer had my wand, and that Malfoy was crying pitifully from the bathroom. What the hell… I could not have collided so hard into the kitchen counter, and I most certainly did not trip…

There was a shuffling sound from somewhere from the area of the bedroom and I started to sit up. In the moonlight and firelight, I could see my wand laying against the base of the central island counter, and with a wagging finger, I tried to Summon it wordlessly. However, before it began to move, two bare and filthy feet appeared in a ray of moonlight next to the island. The sight of bloody toes made me gasp, and I knew…I knew what had shut Malfoy into the bathroom and what had truly made me pause as I entered the wards.

The shadows were still too thick for me to see him, but I could smell him…body odour, soil, must…and somewhere those scents reminded me of Sirius.

“Where’s Malfoy?”

He spoke and I knew it was Harry…but the voice was different, deeper.

My coat! Damn it, there was the Portkey in my coat, and it was closer than my wand. If only I could get to that… Wait. Harry had a wand, ‘armed and dangerous’ Malfoy the DCI had said. Damn…damn it!

“Where’s Malfoy, Hermione?”

He was angry and his toes twitched…that was all I could see of him.

“Wh-what?” I asked…forgetting. My head pounded and I could feel hot blood on the back of scalp…a concussion, surely.

He stepped forward, and I was assaulted by the very sight of him. Deranged…Bellatrix and Sirius would have paled in comparison to what I was seeing.

Harry Potter had once been handsome in his dress robes at his wedding, but now…now…my mouth quivered. Oh gods, this was not my Harry… His hair was long, spilling past his wide shoulders in inky tangles. He did not have his glasses, and I could just see a slice of emerald where the moonlight struck his gaunt and unshaven face. He wore rags that resembled what had once been neat pale gold St. Mungo’s hospital pyjamas, but had been ripped in various places, the front open to reveal a pale chest and a trail of dark chest hair. It seemed that every bit of Harry was torn and raw, and even his once handsome face had the look of someone who had faced Dementors.

“Malfoy, where is he?”

Aberforth’s wand was in his fist, and I tried not to start crying.

“He’s…he’s in the bathroom.”

It was my only opening, my only chance…would my cat mind being a diversion? Merlin, I hoped not.

Harry moved, Seeker-like, toward the bathroom door, ready to blast it open, and as he did, I moved. I was never a Seeker, like Harry had been, but I was fast enough to reach the coat just as he kicked in the door. I heard the impact of a random Stunning hex and saw grey streak out of the bathroom. I was digging through the pocket for the Portkey, finding everything but, it seemed.

“Malfoy!” Harry roared, and I thought, for a moment I had the damn thing…

“You!”

Too late! I screamed in pain and terror as a large hand grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to my feet. My body lurched and my feet literally left the floor as Harry spun me to collide with the bedroom door. My skull collided with the wood…and I saw more spots. The door gave under the impact and opened so that I tumbled into the small room, my head bashing against the side of the bed. My jaw snapped and I knew I bit through the side of my tongue…

And then, I, for the second time in a day, blacked out…