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!

Note: Wyrm - an European dragon. The word derives from the Old English word meaning 'worm.' A wyrm varies in size, and number of limbs, but is wingless and magical.




The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man

Part 9



I gasped as my feet slammed into the ground, and I fell face first into mud. Pushing myself up from the ground, I spat. I was hyperventilating and the muddy water in my mouth was not helping me to breathe.

However, I forced myself up, whirling about to see that I stood in the muddy lane, and the wrought iron gates of Malfoy Manor set into an overgrown stone wall were at my right. I whimpered out of joy, stumbling to the gates, my left hand wrapping around the ancient, cold iron, the other hand wrapping slightly around the metal as I still held my wand.

I felt stinging and burning hexes pass through my hands, but I did not care. I pulled at the gates, rattling the metal. I could feel the skin of my palms begin to burn, but I pulled and pulled, wheezing as my breath began to regulate from the pain.

Malfoy…Malfoy had to be just behind me…but I still rattled the gates with every bit of strength I had.

“Miss Granger?” a silky voice sounded just to my right.

Lucius Malfoy had appeared through the closed gates like a spirit, his pale hair tumbling down his shoulders, his eyes glinting in the brighter light of the Wiltshire sun. I tugged my burnt hands away and moved to him, grasping the front of his leather jerkin. He was dressed much as he had been in the Department of Mysteries all those years ago.

“Malfoy…he needs help!” I wheezed. “Shrieking Shack…go!” I screamed at him.

Lucius’ eyes widened, and I suddenly found that he had me by the arms, pulling me through the wards and into the warmer side of the Manor grounds.

“Go to the house, Miss Granger. Tell Narcissa to call the Ministry. Run…now!” Lucius snarled, startling me to move. A distant, soft sound told the still logical part of my mind that Lucius Malfoy had gone.

I ran again, my feet slipping along the white gravel of the drive. My mind was whirling as I fell into the door of the Manor; another series of hexes burning my hands like a white fire. But the door opened, an elf staring up at me in confusion. I ignored the creature and threw myself into the foyer, a relieved laugh passing my lips as I saw Narcissa Malfoy flying down the staircase like a ghost.

I slid against the marble floor, and landed in a heap in the middle of the foyer, my legs finally having given out. Narcissa was at my side almost immediately kneeling before me.

“Ministry…” I panted. “Malfoy needs help!”

Narcissa’s pale eyes darkened, and she whirled away, moving to one of the two Floos in the foyer. My head was pounding, as my heart seemed to have moved there during my flight.

I turned my head slowly to Narcissa who was whispering into the Floo. She spoke in what seemed like nonsense, but slowly, I realized she was speaking in code words.

I licked my dry lips, tasting mud, wondering if I could just curl up in the floor of the Malfoy foyer and rest. However, the worry and dread that was consuming me would not let me move. The image of Harry…it frightened me. But, what frightened me more was the last thing I had seen before Apparating. A streak of white throwing Harry Potter into the air…

I closed my eyes as my burnt fingers moved to my lips, and the slight tingling of the kiss remained.

Malfoy…he had to be safe. He would push through the doors behind me, at any moment, in a mood…

But he didn’t.

As a cool hand grasped mine, I opened my eyes. Narcissa Malfoy was smiling at me, sadly, taking my hands. I dropped my wand into the folds of my white Transfigured cloak, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly, her eyes moving from my muddy face to my blackened palms.

I managed a nod.

“Potter?” Narcissa ventured.

I nodded again, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Thank goodness you are safe, Miss Granger,” Narcissa whispered, drawing her own wand to wave it over my muddy face and then my palms.

I winced as a healing spell worked over my skin, knitting skin back together so that the damaged flesh sloughed off in charred layers and fell to the fine marble floor.

“The Ministry has gone to Hogsmeade…it will be all right…” Narcissa whispered as reassuringly as possible.

I wept. I could not imagine how it would all be ‘all right.’ Harry had come after me again, and Malfoy had not yet returned.

I set myself to move automatically as Narcissa helped me to my feet, removing my cloak and giving it to an elf for safe keeping. She slid my wand into my sleeve again, and then, running a motherly hand along my face and my bare head, took my healed hands and led me to the kitchens.

I had returned to Malfoy Manor, but the circumstances were grave… I sun was shining dimly through the window in the nook, but it did little to cheer me. Even when a cup of Irish coffee was pressed into my hands, all I could think of was Harry’s voice screaming my name and the sight of his body flying through the air.

Narcissa had to prod me to drink, and I did, tasting the slight bite of alcohol in the bitterness of the coffee. I drank deeply, letting the alcohol course through my blood until my world and its perceptions returned to the moment. I set the cup down and turned to regard Narcissa whose eyes were sparkling with concern, but not for her son…but for me.

“Draco told us that Healer Patil cured you,” Narcissa said, moving her fingers over my shorn head.

The motion made me want to cry again. How this woman could be so tender, astounded me.

“The scars are nearly gone…and your skin has a healthier glow…”

I nodded, biting my lip.

“It will be over soon, Miss Granger.”

I looked away. I did not really know what Narcissa Malfoy meant by those words, but somehow, it was reassuring.

“Call…call me Hermione,” I whispered.

All the while, I had been calling Narcissa Malfoy ‘Narcissa’ in my mind… Malfoy called me ‘Granger,’ and only a few people called me ‘Jane.’

I was not really Jane, not really… I had been lying to myself, I had been trying to hide myself, but then…at that moment, with Minerva, George, and so many others dead, I was just ‘Hermione.’ I had always been Hermione…just as I had always been The Fool.

“Do not worry about Draco. I know I have said that he was a model officer, I was not exaggerating or boasting, Miss Gra-Hermione.”

I gazed at Narcissa again.

“A Detective Chief Inspector is not just a fancy title, and it does not mean that Draco is simply just a glorified Constable. He started training to be an Auror in America after the War…but was called home after we had to testify to the Wizangamot. Even in America he was considered exceptional, and the only reason he is not the Head of his department has to do with our family’s status…”

I frowned as Narcissa’s eyes grew distant, regretful.

“He will stop Potter, Hermione, Elder Wand or no. Draco is an exceptional man…extraordinary…like you.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Narcissa patted my healed hands and smiled. I wanted to ask so many questions, but I couldn’t form the words. Instead, I turned to my Irish coffee and drank the rest.

My legs burnt from running, as did my chest from panting. I was tired, but I knew it was not because of some viral curse. The array of emotions I had felt made me tired, and I settled back into the nook as Narcissa called the elves to bring an early dinner. I had not realized how much time had passed.

I ate slowly, Narcissa at my side. We did not speak, but ate thoughtfully, trying to ignore our anticipation for news. We were both anxious…Narcissa for her son, and I for word that Harry had been captured.

As we were finishing our light dessert, the door to the kitchen flew open causing the elves to cower. Lucius Malfoy strode through the kitchen, a vision of black, making me remember the old days. His face was made of stone, but his eyes were sharp…and angry.

Narcissa paused in the middle of a bite and let her fork fall to her plate in a clatter. I paused as well as Lucius approached, moving to stand just before the nook.

“Draco, is he…?” Narcissa gasped, her hands clenching in her lap.

Lucius shook his head, his pale tresses swishing over his shoulders. Narcissa visibly relaxed. And, surprisingly, so did I.

“The Ministry is on the move. Draco battled Potter in Hogsmeade, but as soon as the Ministry appeared, both Apparated. The Ministry is scrambling to keep up. Potter keeps moving, Draco pursuing. I do not know where they are…” Lucius growled, his hands moving to remove his gloves.

“What do you mean?” I asked before thinking.

Lucius shoved his gloves into his cloak and turned to me. “The Ministry told me to go home. I am not an official part of the investigation, and I am not an employ of the Ministry. I was shut out…” Lucius hissed, his anger not directed at me, but the Ministry.

Narcissa glanced at me and swallowed. “Casualties?”

“Several. No deaths, but Hogsmeade was nearly razed to the ground.”

I frowned. Casualties only…I thanked Merlin. However, it shocked me to hear that Hogsmeade was attacked.

“Where were they before you…?” Narcissa asked softly.

“York. But I doubt they lingered there long,” Lucius answered, reigning his anger to Conjure a chair wandlessly and sitting down before the nook.

“So, what now?” I asked, moving the coffee crock toward Lucius should he want some.

“We wait. That is all we can do. The Ministry is satisfied with you being here, Miss Granger, and here you will stay for the foreseeable future,” Lucius said leaning forward to grasp the crock and pour himself some strong, black coffee.

I sat back into the nook, meeting Narcissa’s eyes again. Under the table, she grasped my hand, and I suddenly felt that relief again. I was not alone…and I was not unwelcome…and it was not simply because I was under Draco Malfoy’s protection. It was a strange feeling, but I did not ignore it.





I begrudgingly took a mild sleeping draught. Narcissa had insisted, saying that I needed my sleep. I slept in my guest room, happily finding that my familiar was waiting for me.

Malfoy, the cat, was quite cross with me for approximately a minute before I took him up in my arms and rubbed my face into his soft fur. The cat sniffed my face, my hair and then batted a paw against my nose. I laughed, tears in my eyes, as I stoked his fur and whispered apologies into his grey ears.

The cat slept atop my pillow, his nose near my ear. He wanted to protect me, I could feel, and eat my bad dreams… I fell asleep without a worry, warm in my bed, my cat watching over me.

However, sometime in the early morning, I was startled awake. I sat up in bed with a start, scaring my familiar so that he hissed softly. The room was dark, and I blinked blindly into the blackness. I could not identify what had roused me, and I listened…

A sound seemed to echo through the Manor, a dull thumping noise, followed by the rumble of voices far below. I threw back my blankets, pulling my wand from under my pillow. My familiar moved to rub against me in a comforting gesture, and I absently rubbed his spine with my hand before rising.

Casting a dim lighting spell, I crept across the room, my soft white nightdress swirling around my ankles. Cracking the bedroom door so that candlelight from the corridor filtered into my chamber, I ended my spell and slipped into the light.

Voices were in the foyer, many voices. Their words were indistinct, but I could tell by the pitch and tone that some of the voices were angry and others concerned. Moving to the top of the staircase, I peered down into the foyer, my view blocked slightly by the molding of wood of the steps.

“This is no time to be arguing, gentlemen!” I heard Lucius drawl, anger barely contained.

“We must wake him, Malfoy! We will lose Potter’s trail if the DCI doesn’t come to his senses!” shouted another voice, male and unfamiliar.

“He’s severely wounded, Deputy Minister, doing anything at this point could possibly harm DCI Malfoy,” Wiscombe intoned calmly.

“We have a trail to follow, Deputy Minister, Malfoy’s tracking spell is still active…as long as he lives. I very much doubt that Potter noticed…” another voice, another male voice said with a gruff tone. The voice seemed familiar.

“All that matters now is that the Department continue working on tracking Potter. Draco is wounded, and until we can heal him, there is nothing more to be done,” Lucius sighed. “Now, I’m sure you have plenty to do in the next few hours. Let my son be treated…he has done all he can for the time being…”

I flew down the stairs to the landing of the next floor, peering down for a better look.

Marcus Flint and Ernie Macmillan stood near the Deputy Minister, a man by the name of Lowell who was junior to the Minister of Magic, Malfalda Hopkirk. Wiscombe knelt close to the bottom of the stairs, but I could only just see his feet from my vantage point. Lucius stood before the three other men, still dressed in his black robes. And Narcissa stood behind him, glancing between Wiscombe and the Deputy Minister.

“I want reports, Malfoy. Your son…” the Deputy Minister spat, “Your son is integral to apprehending Potter. The Ministry demands that he continue his duties with this case!”

“Of course, Deputy Minister. As soon as he is able to speak, I will inform you myself,” Lucius drawled in a placating tone, bowing slightly.

The Deputy Minister as well as Flint and Macmillan headed to the Floo and were soon gone. As soon as the Floo deactivated, Narcissa seemed to fly to Wiscombe’s side in a sob.

“It is bad, madam…” I heard Wiscombe whisper.

I clenched my teeth, and ran down the stairs, my bare feet noiseless on the carpet. When I approached the bottom, I froze at what I saw on the marble.

Blood…there was so much blood, but my shock was not just the sight of garish red on white marble, but the figure that was producing it.

It was not Malfoy at the bottom of the stairs, but a creature. The creature had a slender body, twenty feet of more in length with a mixture of white fur and iridescent scales. I blinked at the creature, and the gashes along its long, narrow body, its reptilian feet with bloody claws, and the terrible cut along its face. I knew what the creature was…a wyrm, a magical European dragon thought to be extinct.

“Hermione!” Narcissa sobbed, forcing me to look away from the creature dying on the floor below.

Narcissa’s face was stricken, but her exclamation was not one of shock at my sudden arrival.

“Miss Granger…can you come here?” Wiscombe asked softly, rising from his kneel.

I blinked and pushed myself up, my wand still in my hand. I edged down the steps, moving to one side so that I avoided stepping into blood.

“Good…I need your help. I need you and Narcissa to be ready to subdue him if need be with a gentle spell while I start healing what I can…”

I did not understand, and looked around the foyer finding Lucius suddenly missing.

“Can you do that, Miss Granger?” Wiscombe asked again with a bit more force.

I nodded, moving around the Healer to stand by Narcissa’s side. Narcissa circled an arm about me, and held me close as we aimed our wands at the wyrm.

“Now, be ready to move. He might thrash, and his tail is like a whip…” Wiscombe advised.

I frowned. Either I was having the most extraordinary dream or it was really wyrm lying before my feet.

From where I stood with Narcissa, I could see that there was extensive damage to the scaly underside of the wyrm, but most of the blood was oozing from the gashes in the softer parts of its back. The wyrm reminded me of the depictions of Asiatic dragons I had seen popularized with Muggle teenage fashion, but this wyrm, if it had not been injured, was far more beautiful, and deadly… Long fangs ran down its lower jaw, its snout long and large enough to crush a man’s head. Its head reminded me of a dog’s in a way…it had short ears that were laid back against its skull, and large eyes, one of which was horribly wounded, a gash running along the right side of its head.

“Here we go…” Wiscombe whispered to himself, kneeling again and drawing his wand.

The glow of gold snapped me from my thoughts as well as the deep canine like growl rumbling from the wyrm. Magic knitted the wounds along the wyrm’s back shut and the blood tapered away to nothing. But as Wiscombe moved his wand to heal the wounds, I could see that not all the damage to the beast was closing. The red aura that was emitted from the wounds as Wiscombe’s wand swept over indicated that a strong curse had caused the injuries.

However, the bleeding had stopped and raw wounds remained. When Wiscombe moved to kneel before the wyrm’s head, he hesitated.

“He’s lost his eye…” Wiscombe said to Narcissa and I, causing Narcissa to sob quietly, shaking against me.

Wiscombe sighed, and began to heal the wound on the wyrm’s face when suddenly the beast was on its large white reptilian feet, snarling only inches from Wiscombe’s face. Narcissa moved from my side to stand next to Wiscombe, her wand trained on the wyrm.

The beast stood at least four feet high, its front legs about four feet from its head, the back feet another five or six feet…leaving a long tail that moved like a cat’s, swishing back and forth, moving the air violently.

“Easy now…you’re home, luv…you’re home,” Narcissa wept, reaching a hand out toward the wyrm.

And then I realized, a little too late, that this was not just a mythical beast, but a man caught in an intricate transfiguration that he did not have the strength to dispel. The wyrm was the Animagus form of the man who had been charged to protect me from Harry Potter.

The wyrm’s breathing was laboured and as he whipped his long neck about to look at me with his left, eerily silver eye, I bit my lip. Blood and viscous fluids ran off the side of the wyrm’s face, and I bit my lip harder to keep it from trembling.

The wyrm blinked at me before the eye shut, and the beast collapsed onto the floor at my feet, its hot nose barely missing my bare toes.

“Why can’t he dispel it, Wiscombe?” Narcissa cried as the Healer moved again to Malfoy’s oozing face.

“It’s not a curse…but his mind has kept him in this state so he could survive. He should change any moment now…now that he knows he is safe…”

I could not move, watching as Wiscombe tried to staunch the blood oozing from the wyrm’s eye. I could not believe that the wyrm was Malfoy. And then I remembered the streak of white I had seen throwing Harry high in the air…

With a flash of silver light, I gasped as the body of the wyrm began transforming back into the shape of Draco Malfoy. He lay face down, his back in bloody tatters, his hair stained red.

Narcissa rushed to help Wiscombe turn Malfoy over, holding his upper body off the floor. Malfoy’s clothes were ruined, the wand holsters seemingly protected by a spell and the wands in place. There were more gashing in his limbs, and up and down his chest and stomach. But perhaps what set my teeth on edge and made my stomach twist was the gash on his face. In human form, the damage seemed much worse. The eyelid of the right eye was torn, and underneath I could see part of a ruined eyeball. I slapped a hand to my mouth and turned away.

“Have the elves prepare a room, Narcissa. I will need healing salves, antiseptics…and a steady hand,” I heard Wiscombe instruct Narcissa.

Narcissa tore away from Malfoy’s side with a whimper, and began summoning elves, sobbing instructions.

“Miss Granger, there is nothing more you can do for now. Perhaps if you would keep Narcissa company…” Wiscombe suggested, gathering Malfoy up into his arms, casting a wandless spell to levitate the man, he began moving to the stairs.

I swallowed thickly.

“Lucius has the room prepared, Wiscombe, Squeak will show you,” Narcissa said, her voice thick with tears.

I watched as the familiar peach skinned elf moved to tug at Wiscombe’s trouser leg and lead both he and the man in his arms up to the second floor. When I could no longer see Malfoy, my eyes moved to the blood pooled upon the floor. My lips trembled at the sight of near black blood on the marble and smaller drops on the carpeting of the stairs. I did not know what bothered me more: Malfoy being an animagus in such a strange form or the damage he had sustained to give me a chance to escape unharmed.

The warmth of Narcissa’s embrace shocked me back to the moment. And suddenly I realized that she had more reason to shocked than I did…her son was had been the one dying on the foyer floor.

I returned her embrace, realizing that I was trembling as badly as she. Slowly, she took my hand and led me to the kitchens, both of us in our nightdresses, barefoot, and quite out of sorts.

The Malfoy kitchen had become a refuge to me, and it felt strange to think of any place in the Manor that would feel safe…but the kitchen with its little nook in the back seemed to be the safest place to be in my little world.

Narcissa held my hand fast as we sat down, mugs of steaming tea popping before us, the scent of chamomile and honey quickly pushing out the lingering scent of blood in our noses.

Our collective silence held despite our imbibing in tea.

The sun rose, and the pink light streamed through the windows of the kitchen, elves slowly coming into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, others going about other chores. We watched silently, our shaking gone, our minds growing tired and sleepy from the hot herbal infusion.

It was possibly nine in the morning when the peach skinned elf, Squeak, popped loudly into the kitchen just before the nook, causing me to gasp, and Narcissa to jump visibly.

“Missus, the Master asks for you upstairs,” the elf characteristically squeaked, its large eyes wide, its hands wringing before its velvet garb.

Narcissa released my hand and slid from the nook, glancing back to me.

“Come, Hermione…quickly!” she whispered as the elf popped away again.

After a few moments, we were racing up the stairs and down a second floor corridor. Outside a set of double doors, Lucius was speaking softly to Wiscombe, who was wiping blood from his hands with a handkerchief, and another man I did not know. This second man was dressed in robes that I knew indicated he was an Auror…not a police man…but an Auror. He stood taller than Lucius with long black hair, pulled back in silver clasp, a handsome face with blue eyes, and browned skin. His robes were a dark red, and a badge, one of which I had not seen in years, was pinned to the fine fabric.

As Narcissa and I approached, the dark haired Auror stopped his voice and regarded us with keen interest.

“He’s fine, my dear, but Wiscombe needs some assistance,” Lucius provided, noticing the nervous expression on his wife’s face.

Narcissa sighed, squeezing my hand before releasing it to follow Wiscombe inside the room beyond. As the door opened, I managed a peek inside, finding a huge room beyond coloured in shades of green and a large bed in the middle. Upon the walls were posters, old posters of Quidditch stars of a decade before…pictures of dragons…and I wondered if the room had been Malfoy’s when he was a boy…

“Miss Granger, you should try to sleep,” Lucius began, taking a step toward me as the door closed, shutting off my view of the room beyond.

I straightened, and turned my eyes to the senior Malfoy and the dark pony-tailed Auror. I studied the Auror closely, noticing the lines around his eyes and mouth. He was older than I, but still rather handsome, however, I had no recollection of the man.

“Ah, yes, this is Auror Williamson…”

Before I could think, I asked: “Why is he here, Mr. Malfoy?”

Lucius took another step forward so that he towered over me, his face stony, but his eyes soft. “The Ministry has decided to recall the Aurors…”

Understanding was slow to dawn, but when it did, I felt my jaw clench painfully.

“So…” I began.

“The Ministry will rule that Potter is no longer the responsibility of the police force. He will be considered a ‘Dark’ wizard by the afternoon. You do understand what that means?” Lucius asked softly, his right hand twitching as if undecided whether to place a hand on my shoulder in some display of concern.

I nodded. I understood only too well.

The Aurors would kill Harry on sight. There would be no trial unless Harry gave up…which would never happen. The Ministry had enacted a strong decree after the fall of Voldemort…when a wizard was declared ‘Dark’ every effort would be made to eliminate the wizard, no matter what the cost. The zero-tolerance for megalomaniac wizards bent on mass destruction or genocide seemed like a natural reaction after Voldemort. But in this case…it was Harry…

The conflict inside my body threatened to suffocate me. Harry was my friend, but he was also my attacker. He was my friend, but he had murdered my friends…

“Aurors from America and Australia will be coming to aid the Ministry…it seems everyone wants to have a piece of Potter…” Lucius whispered.

I ignored the soft triumphant turn of the man’s voice, and turned my attentions to Auror Williamson.

“And Malfoy? Your son?” I asked, not wanting to look at Malfoy senior.

“He will live. And he will aid the Aurors. He started off as one in America, the Ministry will use him here.”

I bit my lip, and turned my eyes to the floor.

“Potter was wounded as well. Even with all his power, it will take time for him to heal, and there is not a wizard in this country who would aid him,” Lucius continued. I could feel his eyes boring into the crown of my shorn head, but I again, ignored him, only registering his words. My fatigue was beginning to show, and I turned, intent on returning to my own bed. There was nothing to be done…I had imposed myself on the Malfoy family enough…

I took several steps before Lucius spoke again.

“Come back in a few hours, Miss Granger. Draco will want to reaffirm that you are unharmed. He was quite concerned before…”

I nodded once, and continued toward the staircase, my only desire to sleep to clear my mind to think later. However, when I laid back into my bed, my familiar sneezing at the foot of the bed from the permeating scent of blood that had wafted up from the foyer, I could not sleep.





I decided that I was absolutely sick with crying, but cry I did, all the same. I wished there was a better way to express my fear and frustrations, but all my body would do was leak tears and quake with sobs. I hated myself for being so lacking in control.

Hours had passed, and it was nearly dusk, a red sun casting a warm glow in Malfoy’s childhood bedroom. I wondered why he had been placed in the tomb-like room with the dusty windowpanes and the peeling posters…did he not live in the Manor?

I let my itchy eyes move about the room as cold tears ran courses down my flushed cheeks. I wanted to look at anything besides the figure lying in the narrow bed. Unfortunately, it did not matter how hard I tried, my eyes kept alighting on the figure of Malfoy again and again.

I was crying silently out of guilt.

Malfoy lay very still on the bed, pillows adjusted so that his body was not lying flat on the soft mattress. A blanket was pulled up to his bare chest, which was wrapped in thick bandages, tinges of pink staining the white of the gauze. His hands were also wrapped up to his forearms, and more bandages were wrapped about his head, angled so that it covered the right side of his face. His silver hair stuck up at angle from the bandages wrapped about his head, and minor scratches adorned all of the exposed flesh I could see. All in all, it looked as if Malfoy had fought for his life, and nearly lost.

I suddenly wondered if I had looked as terrible not so long before.

Fresh tears worked their way up from some dark place inside, and I closed my eyes, pressing my right hand over my contorting face.

Wiscombe had said that Malfoy would survive, all of his wounds not serious enough to end his life. It would just take time for Malfoy to heal. However, the damage to his right eye was irreparable, and bar some medical advancement in the year few months, Malfoy would never be able to see out of his right eye.

Narcissa had not taken the news well, but still managed to find optimism enough to be thankful that her son was alive. Lucius had only scowled and muttered something about his ancestors… I could only feel guilt.

I should have fought; I should have stood up for myself, fought at Malfoy’s side.

I had had the strength once, and I wondered where it had gone in the years since the Last Battle.

Your mind is your sharpest weapon, Miss Granger…Severus whispered as I sobbed into my hands at the foot of Malfoy’s bed.

Would my mind save me? Would my mind be able to stop Harry?

I gasped for air.

“Little boys shouldn’t…shouldn’t cry…”

I gasped again, quickly wiping my tears to look to the figure in the bed.

“Wh-what?” I sobbed.

Malfoy was smirking, the right corner of his mouth obscured with bandages, his left eye gazing at me with a dazed glow.

“Little boys…” Malfoy began, his voice ragged.

“I heard you…I’m not a little boy…” I whispered, wiping my face with the back of my baggy jumper sleeve, taking a step toward the bed.

“You look like one…” he whispered, wincing as he began to lift himself up in the bed to sit.

I moved to help, but jumped back as Malfoy threw his left arm up to stop me. I could only watch as he manoeuvred himself to sit back against the pillows.

“Short hair, baggy clothes, short frame…you look like a little boy.”

I smirked.

“If you’re teasing, it must mean you are feeling better?” I asked, moving back to my original spot at the foot of the bed.

Malfoy grunted, running a hand over his bandaged chest. “I feel like utter shite. And you?”

I blinked. “Me?”

“You alright?” he rasped, moving his hands before his functioning eye to study the bandages wrapped about his fingers.

“I’m fine…” I whispered, turning my eyes to look at my socked feet.

Malfoy hummed in satisfaction, running a hand over the right side of his face. “I could be better, I suppose. I only hope the Ministry sees fit to pay me compensation for my eye.”

I stiffened, and hesitated to look at Malfoy fully. I opened my mouth to speak, but I could not think of any words that would sound in the least bit reassuring. In fact, all I could think to say were apologies. So, I stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Why did you kiss me, Granger?”

I stiffened again, and stopped my shifting, clutching my own hands before me. I dared not look at him.

“Of course…I kissed you, so I suppose it is only fair you kiss me…”

I felt my face begin to burn.

“All this kissing…someone else might think we actually like each other…”

My lips trembled, so I bit down on the soft flesh.

“Don’t tell me that you have fallen in love with me, Granger…” he drawled in that characteristic Malfoy tone that I had come to hate when we were younger. That drawl was a slap in the face…he might as well have called me ‘Mudblood.’

“Because that just will not do…”

I could feel blood in my mouth and in the corners of my lips. And then, I snapped…

“How could I love someone like you, Malfoy? Eh?”

My eyes met his one, and I noticed his mouth twitch away from a smirk to a frown. His one eye was widening slightly as he looked at me.

“I despise you! I have despised you since the first time I heard you voice, saw your face, knew your name!” I sobbed.

I hated myself. I had wanted to scream all the words, but after the first few, my voice roughened into a terribly bone jarring sob. But, I couldn’t stop it…

“I have felt guilty for days…guilty because you had to be the one to save me…guilty because you had to be the brave one and fight Harry…guilty because your mother is so wonderful…guilty because I had begun to respect you…even like you a little bit…”

“Granger…” Malfoy whispered, moving to sit up in the bed, to move closer to me.

I backed away…further from him and his reach.

“Don’t you dare mock me, Draco Malfoy! Don’t you dare!” I bellowed, finally achieving the effect I had wanted. All the same, I was still crying, I was still hurt.

With one final look at Malfoy and his bandaged body, I turned, and like a melodramatic slag, I ran.

I ran until I was back in my rooms and in the bathroom, staring at my tear-stained and swollen face in the mirror. In the amber irises, the black swirled like ink begin stirred into honey at a frantic pace.

You are both fools…Severus sighed.

“I hate him. I was a fool to think that he could…” I sobbed to my reflection.

Could what? Severus asked, his deep voice echoing in the hollow of my mind reserved for his presence.

I shook my head roughly as if to rattle Severus Snape’s voice.

“I have been letting my situation addle my brain. Post-traumatic stress…a syndrome…something… The only reason I…”

Love him?

“No! Love is not that… I esteemed him, and I wanted him to like me. I wanted to think that after everything, after Voldemort, after years, he wouldn’t…he wouldn’t see me as a ‘thing!’” I sobbed into the mirror, the black ink manically swirling.

See you as a victim…you mean.

I nodded, tears splattering my hands and the marble surface of the counter.

“I was so worried, Severus…so worried… I did not want him to die because of me. I did not want him to be hurt because of my weaknesses…” I wept bitterly.

Severus did not answer, but I could feel him inside my mind, pondering, thinking. I lowered my chin to my chest, and wiped my face with the back of my hand. I wanted Severus to console me somehow, tell me that everything was going to be explained, that peace would come again. But, I knew better. Severus was the realist, the voice of logic.

“My feelings are going to get in the way. I should just stop feeling and do what I must to stop Harry. Albus said it…I have all the moves, I am the one who must stop him,” I whispered, looking into the mirror again.

If you think that is what you must do, Miss Granger. But, I warn you, it will not do you a bit of good to bottle your feelings. I cannot assume to know young Malfoy’s mind, but do not push his protection aside. He is powerful, very powerful. He has sworn to protect you, and you must allow for that. Your feelings may or may not be misplaced, but do not hide them away. Do not become me…

A deep painful cry passed my lips as I looked into the mirror, the blackness fading back from my eyes to my brain…Severus Snape falling silent. I, again, was left alone.



I took another sleeping draught that night, but I still had nightmares. Twice I woke screaming, frightening my familiar who hid under the bed for the rest of the night. I laid back into the bed horribly unsettled, trying to remember what I had dreamt.

The only snatches I remembered of the first dream had to do with the night Sirius Black died, Harry, Ron, and the other in the Department of Mysteries. I had dreamed that Antonin Dolohov tried to kill me again…only the face I saw was not Dolohov’s, but Harry’s. I remembered the pain I felt from the curse used to cut me, and how the blood sprayed into the deep black of Death Eater robes. I remembered falling to the floor…Harry’s face over me, sneering in anticipation of my death.

I woke grasping the front of my nightdress.

The second dream was far worse than the first, and not a memory from the past. I was in the Department of Mysteries, but I was not a Fifth Year. I wore my Unspeakable robes, standing in the Brain Room. I remembered thinking of Ron.

In the middle of the room was the green tank, lit from some unseen source so that sickly green light splashed upon the stonewalls. In the viscous green sludge, twelve white brains floated like gliding stingrays upon an unseen current.

I moved through my dream, sitting at the nearest desk before the tank, my hands moving as if to write, but there was no quill or parchment. As I sat, the twelve brains seemed aware that I was near, and floated to the wall of the tank, filed in a rank as if to stare at me. Of course, the brains were not equipped with eyes, but they were aware of my presence.

The brains spoke to me in one voice, an amalgamation of male and female tones, speaking only as loud as a whisper. I could not make out their words, but my hand moved in the pantomime of writing without looking at the desktop.

The brains were telling me something important, very important…but I could not make out what it was.

Suddenly the brains swam away as I could see a reflection in the glass of the tank…an indistinct shape of a figure standing behind me. I turned sharply, the desk chair scrapping upon the stone floor.

Harry…Harry Potter stood just behind me. His hair was a mess of black tangles, and his right eye was damaged, the eyeball hanging from the socket, resting on his gaunt cheek. Quicker that I could image, a pale, clawed hand lashed out, grasping me by the neck, pulling me upward.

Harry snarled in my face, pulling me close, and his breath against my face smelled like rotting flesh. With a great push, I landed on my back across the desk…and it was then I realized I was naked. My dream had rendered me bare.

Harry spoke, but again, I could not make out the dream language. He touched my hip with bloody claws at the ends of his fingertips. I could not move, all I could do was watch as those fingers moved to my inner thigh, traveling upward to the juncture…

Claws dug into my body, scratching my womb…and I screamed myself awake…

I hugged myself and rocked in the bed, thankful that I could not feel pain in my womb. Needless to say, I was unsettled, and I would not let myself sleep more.

I rose and went to the bathroom, running myself a scalding mint scented bath. Malfoy the cat, watched me from near the door as I leaned against the side of the tub, my body turned so I could face him, my legs floating out behind me.

“I have been a lazy witch, Malfoy,” I said to the silver furred cat.

Malfoy the cat blinked at me.

“I do not believe in prophetic dreams, or dreams trying to convey some cosmic message…but I do believe in dreams that inspire.”

Malfoy, the cat, seemed to smile at me, his eyes closing, and his grey nose wrinkling slight. I could tell he was purring.

“I have been so…so silly.”

Malfoy, the cat, yawned.

“After so many years, you would think I would learn something…mature emotionally.”

Malfoy, the cat, licked his jaws.

I sighed, pushing off the side of the tub to duck my head under the surface. I had been silly, melodramatic, and simply…immature. There were various reasons for these behaviours besides the recent events of my life. These behaviours had been fostered by my inability to face the truth about myself.

I had run away. I had purposely taken myself outside the realm of normal, functioning society. I had shunned attachments that would have allowed me to mature. I had not loved as I should have, I had not cared as I should have… And at that moment, I was paying the price for my lack of feeling.

I wanted to bang my shorn head repeatedly into the marble floors of the bathroom…I wanted to cut out my tongue for speaking like a miserly curmudgeon. I was not just a ‘brain,’ I had a heart…that I had conveniently forgotten for almost ten years.

I really was paying the price.

As I pulled myself from the bath, I wrapped a thick towel about my body, grabbing my wand from the sink counter, and padded out into the coolness of the bedroom. It was early morning, and I set my mind to the task of making some sort of amends with Malfoy, pouring my thoughts out to him, and see if, with his help, put some more of the pieces together.

As much as I loved puzzles, I did not care much for that fact that my life had become one.

I dressed, thankful to finally have some clothes that were different from the denims and grey jumper. I slipped into my favorite black linen skirt and dark green long sleeved top. I found my wand holster in the pockets of my coat, and strapped it to the inside of my right forearm. Sliding my wand into the leather, I knew the walnut and dragon-heart string wand was secured, and would not accidentally fall from my sleeve. Remus Lupin had given it to me at Shell Cottage, the day he brought the news about his son, Teddy.

I took a deep breath, allotting only a small part of me to feel the ache of loss. I felt that, maybe, if I could survive another terrible battle, I would allow myself to finally mourn as I should have years ago.

Terrible battles…that was what was to come, I could feel it in my bones. Except this time I was not going to battle against some ‘Dark Lord,’ I was going to battle with my best friend.