Harry moved the tips of his fingers over his scar on his forehead, watching Albus’ face disappear. It was nothing but a scar, shaped like a lightning bolt. One of a few he had managed to get himself, but with probably the most curious shape; if it wasn’t for that tulip on his arm; a reminder, that no one should forget what peace was worth, what friendship was worth, what love was worth. A memorial, imprinted on skin, fading when life would fade and the journey continued. Gone from everyone’s eyes, but not their memory. People would remember, hopefully.
“What d’you say?”, Ginevra asked. “How big is his chance to defend himself against James now?”
“Quite big, I think.”, another man’s voice said behind them.
The high brown mane of his wife was very distracting, but nevertheless the other couple tried to glue their eyes on Draco Malfoy.
“And what makes you think you know my children?”, Harry chuckled, but Draco shrugged.
“I – just got a feeling about that.”
“Sure.”
“Yeah.”, he lightly nodded, pondering.
“What d’you want?”
“Oh nothing. I was just remembered that I still owe you something.”
“S’ppose so.”, Harry frowned. “Found something that would save my life again?”
“Not exactly. But I think, it’ll definitely make you feel better.”
“So?”, their wives looked from one to the other. “What’s – ”, Harry was cut off.
“Well, actually, I’d rather want this private.”
“Private.”, huffed Harry. “You don’t say.”
“Definitely. Astoria, I hope you don’t mind waiting here with Ginevra.”
“Just don’t take too long.”, she replied, giving Ginevra a pout.
“Now don’t be so snooty.”
“I beg your pardon?”, Astoria gasped.
“She’s Pure-Blood as well and I told you it doesn’t really matter.”, all three of them stared at Draco, not believing he had in fact brought up enough courage to say a word against her. “Coming, Harry?”, he nodded over to a distant pillar.
“Alright.”, Harry sighed and followed him. “Since when d’you call her Ginevra?”, he asked when they had reached the pillar.
“No idea. Felt like it, I s’ppose.”
“What’s it that you want, Draco? Lily’s waiting.”, he gave his daughter a glance, standing further away with her uncle and cousin.
“They’re better off than we were, don’t you think? I mean, we started with lessons right away next morning and they still have the weekend ahead to explore Hogwarts.”
“Skip it.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Sorry?”
“We have time.”, Harry wanted to protest again at the sight of his daughter’s impatient face. “All the time in the world.”
“Fine then. What’s it that you want to tell me?”
“Well, there’s some details about something you should know.”, that finally increased Harry’s interest.
“Means?”
“Remember first lesson?”
“Yeah. Potions. How could I ever forget. If I’d known that he – ”
“Loved your mother – ”
“Inter alia,”
“So what I want to say, your son Albus, he will – quite likely beat his brother.”
“You think the name counts, or what?”, Harry understood the emphasis.
“Actually, I do. I think everyone gets the name they deserve. But you know that much. Her second name was Miriam, by the way.”
“Er – what?”, Harry murmured. “Whose – you – you mean – ”
“Lily Miriam, yes.”
“And how come you know my mother’s middle name? Wait – he told you such things about my mother?”
“Yes. I remember I asked him several times what he fought for and at one point he – showed me a photo of her.”, Draco gazed into space. “Look,”, he continued eyeing Harry then, “He really cared for you.”
“Draco, what – ”
“Does it always take you ages to fully get something?”, Draco murmured, clearly not having understood. “He cared for you very, very much and that wasn’t just because he loved your mother, you see. That’s why – ”, he broke off upon Harry’s warning stare.
“Guess, I’m not stupid, Draco. I just wanted to make sure you’re neither, even though I still can’t understand how Astoria ever got you into bed – never mind. As long as she doesn’t train Scorpius to bite my children – but well, it seems, I hit that nerve. And that’s why what.”, Harry urged him to continue.
“That’s why I didn’t give you away when Bellatrix asked me to identify you.”, Draco said as if they were discussing the weather from last week. “Because I cared for him. He’s saved my life. Prevented me from becoming a killer. He showed me that life was worth living when I was thinking about committing suicide. Yes, I needed another two tries and Luna’s brute force, but – but that’s not the point, you see. He was more a father to me than my real – probably that’s why I never cried for my Dad – ”
“I don’t want to break your journey to finding yourself, but I found those things lying around in the mess of your chaotic life two decades ago. Perhaps I can help, just ask – ”
“Will you stop being an insolent git?”, Draco snarled. “I’m trying to tell you something. So yes, I cared for his opinions and motivations. And naturally, I somehow couldn’t hate you anymore when I noticed that he was in fact protecting you. He gave his life for you. So, let’s not hope for it, but if there should ever be the chance for me to save your life another time, it’d be my pleasure. I’d be honoured to repay.”, that left Harry truly aghast.
“If you really seek for salvation, Draco, do me and yourself a favour, get yourself a lawyer and see that you get rid of that hag as soon as possible. It just makes me depressed, seeing all that effort of Luna’s simply going down the drain. Honestly, you’re losing track of reality. You’re living with one and a half feet in the past. That’s half a foot too much.”
“Well, we gotta get back to our women before they start a catfight.”, he looked over to them. “They seem to be close.”
“You’re really not here, are you?”, moaned Harry as he snapped his fingers before the other’s face.
“I am here.”
“Looks slightly different. But hey, summer’s over. There’s always a chance you’d recover at Hogwarts. So do your best. I don’t like the thought of hiring Peeves to beat her out of you,”
“Yeah, yeah. Shut it and save your anger for your employees – or your wife over there, come on.”
Ginevra and Astoria just stood there in silence, both having their arms crossed. The stare they gave each other was plain disgust. Just then, Ron and Hermione came over to Ginevra with her daughter Lily and their son Hugo, watching the scene with interest. Harry and Draco did the same at last, from the other side.
“You can stop it, Astoria.”, Draco smirked; his wife let out a sinister blow.
“Interesting that you leave your wife to my sister, Malfoy.”, Ron snarled. “Have a lot of trust, you have?”
“Certainly.”, now Ginevra looked at him as well. “I trust your sister’s restraint.”, for a split second their eyes met and Ginevra knew exactly what Draco was referring to. “She’s got a talent for hiding things.”
“Tz.”
“Come, Astoria. We’ll go home. See you all back here at Christmas.”
“Draco?”, Harry stopped him in the turn.
“Yes?”, he glanced at the hand that was offered to him.
“What the heck – ”, Ron started.
“We’re quits, forever.”, Harry ignored him, honesty in his green eyes. “So stop counting. It’s just frustrating and won’t serve or save either of us. And – thanks for telling.”
“Really? Well, any time.”, Draco nodded and shook his hand briefly, but with a firm grip that enclosed Harry’s fingers another time before they slid apart and he left the platform to the Muggle world with his wife – Harry hadn’t failed to notice the reluctant despair Draco had let go with.
“What was that?”, Ron murmured when they vanished.
“I – ”, Harry stared at the point where he had disappeared. “Just a detail about life. If you’d been at his Dad’s funeral, you’d probably know, even if I don’t reckon you’ll ever really understand what’s – god, where’s Luna when she’s really needed – ”
“And what’s that supposed to – er –”, Draco came hurrying back, opening his wallet.
“I – forgot – ”, he panted, snatching out a thick, twice folded paper and holding it towards Hermione.
“Um – ”, she started.
“I – found that – in one of my father’s old books – the other day. Maybe – maybe you know – some use for it.”
He dropped a faint smile and was gone again. Hermione just gazed after him, holding the paper tight with both hands and for a second Harry startled at the sight. It had been ten months, but in a flash, the image of his aunt, stiff like a pillar, clutching the orange handles of the secateurs, was back in his mind. All eyes were on her, then hers on the obviously very old paper. She unfolded it once. swallowed and peered into the small gap she opened, clapping it shut immediately. Her eyes widened as her heart visibly sank.
“Everything alright, honey?”, Ron asked. “What’s that thing?”
She did the same again, getting a better view on what was on the moving photo. A low, frowning chuckle escaped her. Her eyes directed blank past Harry’s head, narrowed in disbelief. She then composed herself and put the paper into her large brown handbag.
“Hermione?”, Harry said concerned. “What did he give to you?”, she licked and bit her lips.
“Just a detail about life.”, she whispered, more to herself. “I think, Luna was right.”
“With what of the many?”
“Sometimes life is just funny.”, Hermione chuckled flatly.
“Will you tell me?”
“No.”
“But I’m your husband!”
“Oh really, Ron.”, Hermione snorted, like every single time, the looks of the other people in the lift on them and she was wondering how many more times they would end up like this in a lift and whether people thought they were going crazy or if the two of them had any other ways of exchanging words.
“So why don’t you tell me what’s on that paper?”
“Because it’s meant for me alone.”
“And why would Malfoy give you something that’s meant for you alone?”
“Weren’t you here to make sure Harry goes to Bristol?”
“Bristol can wait.”
“Wait? Several people were magically slaughtered in the open! In public! By a horde of nutters, yelling something about Walpurgis Night!”
“And shot by the Muggle Police.”, Ron grunted. “All that really needs to be done is cleaning up the mess the Obliviators left behind. As if Aurors have nothing better to do, really. And how come you know what they yelled? Also that’s not fully correct, just saying,”
“And if they acted in the name of Hello Kitty! It cannot wait!”
“What kitty?”, stopping in place right after they had left the lift, they just stared at each other.
“Never mind who Hello Kitty is, as long as Roxanne is out of that phase as quick as possible.”, Hermione huffed and walked on, Ron on her heels. “And I’ll be at Luna’s tomorrow.”, not only she nearly choked on the déjà vu.
“Really.Why?”
“Because, Ronald Weasley, I feel like it.”, she snapped ice cold. “Also, if they let me, I will most likely stay overnight.”
“You sound more like you’re certain they’ll let you?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she already knows. Therefore, have a nice weekend, Ron.”
“Tz.”, he stared after her as she strutted into the corridor. “Overnight normally means one night, just so you know.”
Gone inside her office, she however continued walking. Around, however. With many eyes from the cubicles on her. She noticed some shaking heads disappear, knowing what they might think. That this was why she was working in this office and not on the other side of the corridor. That this was why she was in the regular law enforcement, rather than the special units. Certain that Ron was gone in said office, she looked outside into the empty corridor and hasted back to the lifts to go up.
“Department of International Magical Co-Operation.”, the voice told her of her destination and Hermione jumped out, heels clacking for the Head’s office.
With a pull here and there she brought her clothes in order and lifted her hand to knock. As though the world was playing a very questionable trick on her, she caught herself in the act. Four times she had knocked. Once again. Like so many times, and every single time it had cost her a snort of frustration.
“Good Morning, Mr Fletcher!”, she sang nonetheless.
“Mrs Weasley!”, the man gasped with a look over his small reading glasses and raised, if though with some difficulties and stretched out his knobbly hand for a greet she met. “Oh please take a seat, yes, yes. Would you mind a cup of tea? I just made some – ”, the fresh smell of warm currant told her so.
“No, thank you. Too kind, but I must dismiss that offer. I’m afraid, currant isn’t my favourite thing in the world.”
“What a shame. No matter though. No, matter.”, they sat down at his desk and Hermione dropped her bag with a lot of unintended noise. “Now. What brings you here, Mrs Weasley? Not again wishing to speak to Mr Neyizhkasha?”, he chuckled lively but the worry was audible.
“Well, the truth is,”
“Karkaroff is still dead. And you came to me with the same question – what was it? Three years ago? Or is it something else this time?”
“Actually,”
“Don’t say.”, he raised his palms in defence. “I don’t want to know, really. Also I fear, I can help you even less than last time. Neyizhkasha is dead.”
The clock on the wall beat against her heart’s sound that was pounding in her inner ears. Not sure she had heard correctly, she could just stare at him.
“Haven’t you read the Daily Prophet yet today?”
“I – ”, she remembered having caught a glimpse on the front page with the big headline of a death, but as it had been folded and the children had been making a riot, she had dismissed it.
“It was all over the front page! Apparently he was on a hunger strike for weeks. It still isn’t clear how he died though. Opinions are split. Aurors are still trying to retrieve his corpse from the Russian Ministry. Of course the Prophet doesn’t know exactly what is going on, but according to the little information Kingsley slipped, Neyizhkasha had been captured and imprisoned in late July. Who would have thought, after the Muggle riots calmed, that it is now the Wizards that want each other’s heads down there. Incredible. Ukraine without a lead.”
Not knowing why actually, her legs decided to make her raise. Her hand held out, her bag soared up into it and she caught it limply. Followed by his gaze, she turned to leave.
“Mrs Weasley?”
“I – Bristol can wait – ”, she aspirated to herself. “He’s – got better things to do – ”
“Is everything – ”
“Sorry that I bothered you, Mr Fletcher.”, Hermione said hollow and left the office without even closing the door.
Already back at the lifts, she didn’t even fully notice that she entered. She did see that she pressed the button to the Atrium, but that was all until she heard the peculiarly echoing voice.
“That’s the Atrium, you know.”, it startled her and she found a lone pair of green eyes behind round glasses blink at her.
“I – Harry!”
“Apparently that is me, yes.”, he said bored, arms both blocking her path and keeping the grills from shutting.
“Did – did you hear?”, Hermione breathed.
“I hear many things, most times,”
“The Ukrainian Minister – ”
“Yeah, I heard that the Russians tortured Neyizhkasha and left him to starve in a cold cell when he didn’t tell them what they wanted to know. All of Europe’s on the case. I’m potentially about to lose one of my best fighters just because he went to school with Neyizhkasha and feels obliged to get his body out. Pray for him, if your busy brain finds the time to squeeze that in.”
“Can you – can you do me a favour?”
“Depends on the favour,”, he said cold.
“Could you please – tell McGallaham – ”
“For real, Hermione? If you want to call in sick, send her a memo. And your testament along, if you’re already at it.”
“What?”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Ron just sent me a Patronus, telling me that you snuck back out of your office to go and see Fletcher. Don’t think I cannot count one and one together. By all means, go. Go and get yourself killed. It’s not my children that will be half-orphans then.”
“Harry!”, she moaned, but knew he was right.
“I thought you stopped that lax madness three years ago. I sincerely hoped that you know what you do. It seems, I was wrong. You’re beyond help.”
“How do you – ”
“I’m not dumb, Hermione. And – ”
“You have your means, why, of course.”, she huffed.
“Certainly. But it’s your life. I won’t tell you what do do with it. Just do us all one favour.”, he let go with one hand so she could leave the lift if she wanted. “Stay awake.”
“Awake?”
“Awake enough to realise if your dream has ended in a nightmare or not, and get out of bed before the canopy crushes down on you. It doesn’t do – ”
“To dwell on dreams and forget to live, yes, yes.”, she snapped and rushed past him.
“Hermione?”
“Yes!”, with a shriek, she spun on the spot when the grills rattled shut between them.
“Just try not to do anything stupid. I don’t want to have to go down there myself to get your body out as well.”
With that, the lift was gone, and as though he had taken taken with him the last spark of hope that had remained in her, an icy cold plunged down on her. He was right. It was more dangerous than ever. But she simply had to know. If she didn’t go now, now that Draco had dropped her the hint she had wished for so long, she would regret it for the rest of her life, however long that would be.
~~#~~
Her thoughts were spinning wildly, so was the lamp on the dark ceiling. An earthquake by her side. Piercing her scalp, the heavier her aching head got, the more unbearable the curlers became. In addition she was soaking wet under the blanket she had pulled up to her chin, to not freeze to death in her own sweat. Guilt owned her. About the dream she had had. She had had it multiple times that year. Once every now and then. Hating herself. Knowing it was and would always be a lie. Disgusted by her body’s desire, knowing it wasn’t her heart’s. And still, what troubled her more, was that spark of hope. The hope she would be granted to breathe again, if she only wanted. The hope anyone would touch her like the man in her dream, like her husband had ceased so long ago. Devour her. Mess up her hair without making her frustrated, but delighted. And yet there it was. A single ray of light, on a cross-shaped marking. Like a sign from above. And a voice whispering to her.
If you really want, there is always a way. Just have faith.
Why had he told her? Revealed that to her? When there was not the slightest spark of any other sign? Had it been a lie? An illusion even? Had he even been there, talking to her? Had she clung to a spark for months, a spark that had been a figment?
A car drove by. Casting long shadows on the ceiling by the light it threw in from below. Like a sign from above. Literally and actually. One shape in the shadows from the lamp, was that of a cross. As soon as it was gone, an even louder snore followed. Was that it? Her ordeal? Her martyrdom? Her sacrifice for the sake of her son having a home? Still? After all those years?
Unnecessarily quiet she slid out of the blanket and into her slippers. Shuddering from the cool air, she snuck to the bathroom. Careful not to wake the boys next door. Even colder water splashed her face than that on her body. Trying not to spread too much of it on the tiles, she washed off some of the freezing sweat. Rubbed her goosebumps dry. Finally, the curlers were gone. One by one. Trembling fingers brushed through the fading reddish blonde. Light grey strands were coming through. Dye was needed. But not tonight. Tapping the mess down carelessly, she tiptoed back into the bedroom, freezing even more now that she was naked.
Like to the rhythm of some music, she opened the wardrobe in accordance with the snoring. Each piece of clothing she put on, was handled the same. Downstairs she snatched the keys. Not even a handbag. Her license was in the car anyway. Her destination. And the first smell that burnt in her nose. She detested the garage’s smell. One more reason to leave as fast as she could. The door closed upon a click on the remote and she reversed. Shining light into the bedroom above, casting shadows. But nothing more.
It was quite a long drive, but it felt good. Relieving. Freeing. Nearly no soul on the road. Lights flaring past as she drove on and on. On into the fading night, all the way down to Westhumble. Like a migrating bird, guided by instinct. Hours later, it seemed to her, hours filled with empty thoughts, at last guided by endless domes of hedges, she arrived at the fork of streets by the old uphill archway, parked the car at the side. By the pavement. By the low wall of stone. The sky was getting light, but the single streetlamp at the fork did its duty, still, like a silent memorial, telling the sun what to shine onto several hours from then.
Tightening her coat in the chill breeze, she locked the car and gazed at the old brick chapel. It almost looked like an abandoned barn, squeezed at the side of the fork. Clacking quietly, her shoes travelled across the flat cobble under the tree by the entrance in the wall. Surprising her, but not, one of the contrasting doors to the chapel, adorned by heavily convoluted iron hinges, stood open. Dressed black, the pastor was awake already. His dark hair combed back neatly, he was lighting candles on the altar. For seemingly nobody. No mass times had been on the board outside. Or was he lighting them for her? Had he known she would come? At this unholy time of day? Looking at him, she winced, very briefly, but sighed, when her thoughts got blown away.
“God bless you, my child, and good morning.”, he turned to her, barely raising his deep voice. “How can I help you?”
“Good morning and God bless.”, she had to clear her crooked voice once. “I came to ask – is it too early in the day for a confession?”, with high interest, he squinted once; looked up and down on her from the distance.
“Of course not.”, he nodded, extinguished the match and placed the tiny box on the altar. “It is never too early or too late to ask for your sins to be forgiven. Our Father never sleeps and has an ear for all, however untimely they may consider their own arrival. Come.”, he nodded again, to an open door on the side, seen right from where she stood. “The confessional is in here. I shall be with you in a minute.”
Determined but with a grateful smile, her heels clacked on, echoing in the small cavern and through the door. Indeed, there were many things crammed into the even smaller room, including an ancient looking closed confessional booth. She noticed a sound and a flash of light from behind, telling her he had lit another match to finish what she had interrupted. Careful not to stumble, she climbed in and closed the door, waiting. Waiting an eternity, it seemed, in utter darkness. Then suddenly, footsteps. The wood around her creaked when the other door was opened and closed. Only through tiny cracks, faintest light from more candles he must have lit, shone in. Barely able to see but hearing and feeling it, a shutter was opened by the grid before her and she could spot some of his outlines. A mere whisper hit her ears.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”, she too made the sign of the cross when he did.
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I have sinned in my mind, sinned to myself and the promise I have given when I had married.”
“Dear child. Our minds are our own. But we share them with our Lord and Father. He knows of all our thoughts and desires. Yet I cannot speak for him unless you share what he already has seen. Carry on.”
“There is this dream. It keeps coming back.”, she too whispered. “In this dream, a man comes to visit me. And – and he pleases me. A fleshly lust I do not wish to possess and do not wish it to possess me. I know it is wrong and I know he will never fulfil it, as he too has his principles.”
“So you know the man who comes to you in your dreams?”
“Yes. I do.”, she pleaded, hissing. “A man I believed dead for many years, but only months ago I learned of his survival. And now he’s haunting me.”
“Now who is this man? What is your relation to him?”
“He’s – he’s my brother-in-law’s brother. He’s – he’s part of my family! And that is why I hate that dream. But believe it or not, Pater, what I hate more than how he touches me in that dream, in ways my husband has stopped touching me decades ago, is that he offers me a ridiculous idea. A revelation.”
“Much like the Serpent offered the apple?”
“Very much alike, yes! He tells me I could – that it isn’t too late – to – to leave my husband. Leave the prison I had made for myself. The cage. He tells me I could break free. Go anywhere I wanted. Independent. Not even needing any money my husband would owe me, to live a life without starvation. Where I can see the trees. And stars glistening through at night. He promises me literally Eden itself! Where I could live amongst voluntary outcasts! And become all I ever wanted. Become what I envied my sister; God rest her soul; for. He keeps offering me to live with a hidden group of druids up in Scotland.”
“Hm. There is indeed a group of druids I know off. But not in Scotland. Those like to stay among their kin. A group in Wales however, is quite open minded.”
“Pater?”, her former praying pose collapsed with confusion.
“Yes, not many months ago, a friend released a woman from his shelter into their caring hands. His second sister-in-law, if you care to know. Thinking thoroughly, you might quite like her. She too had lived in a cage, for too long.”
“Are you – are you suggesting me to not confess my sin but to – live it? To listen to the dream and give in? Abandon my husband? You? A man of God, saying I should go live with heathens?”
“Aren’t we too, those who put our faith in one God or any at all, heathens to those who follow different deities or none? Isn’t what others may pick as their life, just an idea or alternative for us and the other way round? Don’t we call a sacrilege what others deem freedom? Or do they not call us idiots who imprison themselves, while we consider ourselves blessed? Abandon a marriage that is no marriage anymore but a mere construct in which you only function to grant your son and grandchildren a roof, bed and food? He’ll come round, and you know that. Also not so long ago, you yourself didn’t hold any God in high esteem, if I may remind you, however wonderful it may be to my ears that you have found back to our Lord and saviour.”
“How do you know – ”, her panic was real and she already wanted to leave the claustrophobic cabin, but her eagerness was too strong.
“My dear child. Said friend told me, that one day, you would very likely come back to the assessable chapel you had your son baptised at. At a crossroad in your life, come back to the trident of streets and seek for answers. Will you walk left from our holy hall of Saint Ease? Back where you came from? Back to your cage? The long winding road into your crypt? Or turn right and away, stopped by a dead end? Or will you pass by the archway? Uphill? Into isolation but salvation? Nearer to God and yourself?”
The door to her cabin opened, but she was too stunned to do anything than stare at the shadow that towered her. Yet her heart told her not to fear. Still hesitantly, she slid to the left, let him join her on the narrow bench. His face was so pale, the little light from outside was enough to make her see every little detail in it.
“Which path you chose,”, he spoke calm and soft, making her shudder, “Is entirely on you, Petunia Evans.”
“H-how – ”
The breath left her with a lot of pain. Pain that was wiped away by his left hand brushing through her messed waves. Coming to rest on her neck. Firm but tender. And he leaned closer. So close she felt his breath in every pore, when he placed a single kiss on her cheek.
“You are right.”, his whisper continued, their faces only inches apart, again. “I can give you no more than that. Also that neither of us would want more. What I however can,”, he paused, composing his voice, “Is give you back your life. If you only let me. Let me help you help yourself out of your coffin.”
“You must see, our friend here, is an interesting man.”, chuckled the priest. “He is a Phoenix that raised from his own ashes. More so, he taught me, that these animals actually exist, and that they are very powerful creatures, divine to behold. And that their feathers,”, he quickly showed her a red and golden feather through the grid, “Are very useful to send instant messages. You excuse me now; I need to call a florist’s. There is a very private wedding today and I have to make sure the flowers arrive. The last call was very troubling and I fear, I will have to go and pluck some myself or there won’t be any for the dear couple.”
“No need to worry, Elbert. I left that slob a note to stick them behind his own ear. Take a look and tell me if they are meeting the couple’s expectations.”
“Ha.”, laughed the priest, but left nonetheless, to check. “Jesus himself must have sent you. Goodness.”
“See it as a remedy for having had to prospect her.”
“Fair enough, then.”, he waited for the priest to disappear through the second small door, on the other side of the altar, before he continued his whisper, his hand now lower, on her shoulder.
“We both know that the only reason Dudley returned home after the divorce is so you don’t end up as lonely as he had felt. While you may have spoiled him, he has grown to be a man.”
“Not because of me.”, Petunia hastily shook her head, close to tears. “It was you who made him. I – I look back on that one year with so many mixed feelings, but one thing is clear. While that friend of yours may have been extremely paranoid; even more paranoid than Vernon; Dudley learned from him more than either of us ever managed to teach him. He’d still be the same tyke, had you not rescued us. Well, given, we’d survived otherwise.”
“Dun’ say tha’. Harry noticed a change lon’ before ye wen’ on tha run.”
“Really.”, she chuckled depleted. “The woman the pastor spoke of – the one now living with the druids – who is she?”
“’Er name’s Ivory, an’ I think ye’ll ge’ alon’ really well. She’ll be tha new wind ye need in yer life. I can brin’ ye there now. Or nex’ week. I sense I’ll be very busy sum ’ours from now. All I need is a single word from ye. Say yes, an’ I will take ye ou’ o’ yer golden cage. Say no, an’ grow ol’ wit’ yer decision. ’T’s entirely on ye.”
One deep breath later, he stood up and climbed back out, offering her his right hand. But she hesitated.
“Has it ever happened, that a letter got lost? And never arrived?”, staring down at her shadowy silhouette, he didn’t lower his arm.
“No. Tha letters always arrive. In tha one or other way. Bu’ indeed, it can ’appen tha’ a birth ge’s missed. If tha signs aren’ stong enough.”
“So you are saying – I could have – for all we know, I could have been just like her, but overlooked by the world – ”
“Tha’s no’ wha’ I was sayin’. Ye could ’ave, or no’. We’ll never know. Bu’ I give ye a chance. A chance fer tha adventure ye gave up, in tha hollow o’ tha weepin’ willow, when she le’ ye read tha letter. Tha child’ood adventure ye buried tha’ day. Tha adventure, no matter ’ow much ye quarrelled, ye always wanned ter share. I’m no’ sain’ tha’ Ivory can ever replace tha sis’er ye los’. Bu’ if ye wanna join ’er on ’er adventure an find ou’ whether ye’re a witch o’ any kind, jus’ tell me.”
All capability of words however, had left her. She could only breathe and gaze at his offering hand. Almost an entire minute she sat that way. Then, she knelt down, facing the grid, her hands folded on the small shelf, for a silent prayer. During it, her fingers, effortlessly, pulled a ring off another. With the sign of the cross, she set it down, raised and reached out. Pallid thin fingers touching, hooking on to each other. The younger ones, gently but strong, pulling her out by hers. No sound, only the quivering of a single candle on its stand by the old door, shining its rays onto the lone platinum ring, left behind on the worn down dark wooden board.
~~#~~
It was a cool, typical early September morning. A shining sea lay before her, soft light grey clouds hanging from the sky. Small green bushes and short green grass covered the rocks of the high coast, falling down to the shore, almost straight. The top land however, was uneven. A wild, far and beautiful country. The coast wind was cold and strong enough she needed a cloak. Preventing her hair from getting messed, she had forced it into bun and pulled the hood of her black travelling cloak over it. Even without the wind, the air would have been much fresher than in London.
She had taken Harry’s suggestion into account and sent McGallaham a memo that she was sick. However, she had spent the day and even the night travelling through London. On the underground, on busses, by foot. She had gotten off at random stops, walked streets she had never seen, all in a try to find out what she really wanted. Whether her need to know was strong enough to resume the search she had laid to rest three years ago upon repeated words of warning. But now Draco had rewoken her spirit, her eagerness, lit a candle in the dark for possibly a reason. Harry had said that Draco was not in his right mind. That he was losing track of reality, living with one foot in the past. A feeling that she knew well though. Something she could relate to. And even her wit told her that if she was to brand Draco with insanity, she could just as well press the hot iron against her own chest, right where her heart beat behind, where it still was beating for that spark of hope. For that need of clarification.
Slowly, careful enough not to stumble over a rock as her lack of sleep wasn’t benefiting her agility, she made her way along the coast, examining the landscape, until suddenly, her feet turned inland. She had already walked several feet before she noticed it. Her heart sank. That was it. That was the place. She stared across the land, checked landmarks she would recognise from the photo. Nothing. No sign of a house, and its background had been different than which presented itself to her. But it had to be somewhere here. She knew she had just been led away by the barrier. When she turned back to the cliff, her heart jumped. Very far in the distance, she could see mountains rise on the horizon over the sea. As much as she had found out, there was no place along the Ukrainian coast which could have look like that – and also it seemed much earlier than it would have been there – where the –
As if from thin air, a lone, black wooden two-storey house on posts, plastered with light mud appeared, standing a short way to her left, its roof made of long grass and most space beneath the posts was filled with stacks of log. There was a greenhouse garden at the wall facing her, filled with vegetables and flowers and on another enclosed piece of ground, frolicked and browsed quite a number of – goats? Dismissing the fact, her frown moved.
Someone was outside on the front terrace, gazing at the mountains in the blurred haze. Her heart sunken further, she stared at the house for a little while before she could compose herself enough to walk on, now able to cross the shields. A man, wearing a long white shirt and black trousers, sat on the wooden terrace that had been scraped by salty winds, his bare feet placed three steps down on the long stairway leading to the shore below. She wasn’t sure if that fact or the general sight made her shiver. He leaned forward, his fingers crossed between his gaped legs. Jet black waves of hair, falling past his elbows with their ends standing in various directions like on a bottlebrush, swayed gently in the wind.
As if he had expected her arrival, he must have let her in when he had seen her, even though she was covered. However, he didn’t move when she entered the terrace over some steps at the side. There was no banister. She sat herself to his right, her legs dangling down. Not looking at her but gazing at the sea, he waited for her to push back her hood. Strands of brown curls pulled loose, got caught by the breeze immediately. She studied his silhouette.
He hadn’t changed a bit. If it hadn’t been for the growth of his hair, nobody would have been able to tell that nineteen years had passed. Still not looking at her, he freed his right hand; while making a loose fist with his left; and laid it onto his thigh, palm up. Slow, but not hesitating, she placed her left hand in it, a shiver going through both their bodies. She curled her lips, eyes becoming glassy, when their fingers enclosed. So many years. Different, she felt, and yet somehow, familiar the touch was.
Surprised, she noticed he must have become a little more fond of rings since the war, as he wore a pair. Though there wasn’t Charity’s golden ring on his right ring-finger, but a silver one with blackened Celtic ornaments and a slightly broader one on the left, made of rose gold with an inlay of the same pattern in differently coloured metals. She knew he had noticed her fascinated studying, but tried his best to hide it when she didn’t dare to ask. So they just took a deep breath and looked at the sea together.
Minutes passed. Long minutes of a comforting silence, drowning in memories. Only the sound of the waves and the wind, the seagulls, their breathing and the touching of their hands. So he was all `back to the roots´, Hermione considered when her thoughts drifted to his family grave in Godric’s Hollow. As it was also a Runic Cross, she figured he must have wanted to carry around at least something that reminded him of his family. However, she would have preferred if he had actually dedicated to his still living family. Especially one person.
“Harry had been quite surprised.”, were her first words, spoken calmly to him, after such long time. “When he had found your office completely empty and then none of your things in the Headmaster’s study either.”, a pause, then both started laughing quietly on the recalling of some minor event, that had occurred so many years ago – but he didn’t question it.
“How did you find me.”, he said, finally looking into her eyes – she had missed that voice, those eyes, so badly, and yet, her brain tried to tell her something.
“It was a little challenge. Or rather, a secret game I’ve been playing for several years. Every year on second of May, I got out a map of the Sea of Azov, concentrated on a spot at the coast and Apparated to it. Then I went walking the coastline for a whole weekend, measured the point according to the stars, marked it and Apparated back home. I mean, the last time was a little trickier due to the war rising, but I nevertheless did. Well, until I decided to listen to the warnings. But Jeanne’s probably told you everything. Harry’s once meant that there’s nothing she fails to find out. And Luna said, it was probably meant to be that way. So I decided to give it a rest. Concentrate on my family. Wait for my daughter Rose’s take-off to Hogwarts. Considered Luna’s thoughts and – ”
“Hermione.”, almost impatient but still calm, the calling of her name by his voice caused another shiver that ran through her entire body. “I asked you, how you found me. Not how you wasted your time failing at it.”
“Oh. Uhm – well, on the platform, yesterday, Draco gave me this.”
She pulled the folded paper from her pouch of different lilac and purple fabric that she carried around her shoulder, as intact as on the first day, when she had received it from him in her parents’ kitchen. Not a single bead was missing. She unfolded the paper with her fingers only and gave it to him. He took it with his left hand and his jaw dropped slightly with a disbelieving sigh.
“He said he had found it in one of his father’s books and that it – might be useful for me. As you see, it was.”
The photo showed a young man standing on the veranda of a wooden house on a high coast. He was laughing with all his heart because the wind was almost blowing him over. It was the very same veranda they now sat on, however, the land was another.
“I think Igor had shot that, hadn’t he?”
“Yes.”, a nostalgic smile drifted upon his face. “Lucius, you bastard.”, he chuckled. “I thought I had lost it. And now you tell me that he nicked it from me. Incredible.”
“But it seems, it was meant that he stole it, doesn’t it? I mean, I think I would still be wandering around otherwise.”, she smirked. “Now. When did you tell Draco that you’re still alive?”
“What?”
“Don’t assume I am stupid. He clearly knows.”
“Very well.”, he huffed. “But I never showed myself openly to him.”, she knew he was lying in some way, but didn’t want to push him.
“Fair enough. So? What have you been doing here?”
“Living,”
“Yes. I’d live here too, if I hadn’t made a different choice. I’d want to live here too. It’s gorgeously beautiful. But – ”, she sighed. “Alone. As always. Right?”
“I am never alone.”, he said softly, giving her a gentle smile.
“Sure. Never.”, she chuckled. “Only that your definition of being not alone, doesn’t conform most people’s idea of it.”
“Am I `most people´?”, he winked.
“No. Definitely not.”, Hermione grinned.
“Why complain, then?”
“I’m not complaining! I – just – get social, Severus!”, she laughed mournfully. “And I’m not talking about a probable little bit of interacting with a lunatic trio of women.”, again her brain rang a shrill alarm bell upon the way he looked straight into her eyes, but she ignored it. “Is it really that hard for you? You love to be among people! You love conversations! Why living here alone? Is that really the only place you can connect with purely good memories?”
“It is the only place I can connect with nothing but good memories. Regardless of the reason Igor and I had moved here for. But other than that, it’s – my – little paradise now, at last. If you wish, you can talk openly about it with Harry. I think, after three children one of his calibre must have grown mature enough to – ”
“Three – how come you know?”, she groaned. “You don’t penetrate my memory, do you?”
“No.”, Severus laughed. “There is absolutely no need for that. And she is beautiful, by the way. Just like you, even if many people would still not see, or better, not pay attention to it. Rose is like your copy. Apart from the colour of her hair and eyes, of course. And Hugo is totally Ron. But why am I telling you this – you know it as much as I do.”
“Severus – you – really – ”
“Remember? Just because the house is in the middle of nowhere, it doesn’t mean – ”
“That you were cut off totally – ”, she aspirated. “You!”, she slapped him with her right hand, not ceasing the other’s grip. “You! Foul! Bastard!”, he just laughed again, bearing it. “I can’t believe it!”, moaning, she dropped her right hand onto his, which he had turned around on his thigh, making her left hand slightly buried between. “You really are in contact with those self-proclaimed Peverell Sisters!”
“Indeed, yes.”, he smirked very childishly.
“And I have spent nineteen years wondering where you went, hiking my feet dead once a year, while you were simply, actually, spying on us all the time, invisible, you Gulping Plimpy!”
“Did you expect me to not care seeing my grandchildren grow up? Hermione. I needed this time, you know that. I needed it for myself, and you all needed it for your families.”
“Hogwarts – ”
“Hogwarts needed that time as well. It was Minerva who took on the most for saving the students. For a whole year, she affronted the Carrows, risking her life, spinning her own threads to beat the system – and the whole reign. She did the biggest work on the reconstruction. She still deserves the position.”
“She considers retiring.”
“You are not here to hire me.”, he must have seen that thought, Hermione considered, regardless of her quite good shielding, in her opinion.
“No. I’m just saying, since you mentioned it. She has done it so well, nobody wants to take in her place. Severus. Hogwarts was your home. You could start anew.”
“Strange. There was a time when you wanted me to get out. Now I am, and you want me back in? Hermione – I did start anew.”
“Don’t say that. You had the greatest fun in that battle. Secretly you love teasing people. Otherwise you would have never been able to play your role so genuinely.”, he sighed and looked away. “Severus. I know you need more than just a house by the sea. Your office has been empty ever since. If you really think that Minerva is the one to lead the school, get back and tell her. She knows you’re alive. She’s been there. So has Luna. They watched me set the shack on fire. They have seen the empty room and the message in blood. They have seen the Horcrux.”
“Horcrux?”, his head shot at her.
“Yes, I know.”
“Which Horcrux?”, murmured Severus.
“Severus, stop taking me for a fool. I would have never thought you’d go that far, but – ”
“Second – you think I – made a Horcrux?”
“Stop it, okay? I know it’s something to be ashamed of. But I also know the locket is a Horcrux.”
“What?”, he hissed. “I never made a Horcrux!”
“B-but – what?”
“How sick – ”
“You didn’t?”
“No! As I say! Hermione – do you even – have you in all honesty thought I – ”, he was visibly angry now; seeing him like that, pulled her stomach down as though a rock had fallen into it – yet she was glad he didn’t struggle to get his hand loose.
“I – I – but – how – how else could you possibly have survived?”
“It was pure luck! I only lost consciousness! Or so I think – ”, he paused. “Maybe I was dead for some seconds, I don’t know. When I woke up again, you were gone. I was lucky I had enough Blood-Replenishing Potion and an emergency saving of the antidote for Nagini’s venom, which I hadn’t given to you. But until I finally managed to drink those – ”, he swallowed at the memory of that night. “I was ready to die, Hermione. But when I still wasn’t dead, I knew I wasn’t meant to die yet. It felt like I had been given a second chance. A chance to start a new life.”, he sighed.
“Severus – I – I’m so sorry.”, tears trickled from her eyes. “I’m sorry I believed for so many years that you would have actually done something as disgusting as making a Horcrux.”
They only stared out at the sea again in another long silence, still holding hands however. But she felt that he was indeed a little averse to it now. Still it was him who broke their hush with a whisper.
“I forgive you.”, she looked at him. “Of course it would have been the only possibility logical to you and since I left you the locket – it is my fault actually, that you thought I did. Or Lily’s fault – whatever.”
Hermione just closed her eyes for a moment, both continuing to watch the waves then, several more minutes long. If he hadn’t had made a Horcrux – and actually hadn’t killed anyone ever since the war, how many more things had Luna ever gotten right? How many of those she still refused to accept, but Harry had long ago?
“Look. Hogwarts needs someone like you, and you need Hogwarts, even though the wars had given you enough that you were fed up for almost two decades. But you weren’t totally. You returned to see how things are going. Don’t tell me you don’t care about Hogwarts, or Minerva, or me – or Harry, as you said.”, he turned his head back on her. “I need you back in my life, Severus. Not only through memories – or a locket – or a handkerchief – I need you. Because you are still alive. And I want you to tell Harry personally, who his father is. Albus Severus Potter has to know that he has not only been named after two of the bravest men in wizarding history, but that one of them is in fact his grandfather. Make him proud. And the other two as well.”
“Tha’s unfair.”, Severus grumbled.
“Well, didn’t you tell Harry once that his father knew quite well how unfair life is?”, she noted.
“Ye an’ yer brains.”, he snorted, looking away once more.
“Wasn’t it that brains you used to love?”
“I strangely still do sum’ow.”, he mumbled.
“What?”
“Ferge’ it.”
“No, I won’t. What did you say?”, he showed no visible reaction. “Well, maybe that can convince you.”
She retrieved her hands and rummaged for something in her purple pouch. His mouth gaping slightly with interest, he watched her sticking her arm deep inside. The thing she pulled out, made his mouth open just a little more, as well as his left eyebrow wander up and he took a deep breath, swallowing afterwards. It was old looking. The cover was stained and bleached out to a more greyish tone than the lavender one it had had when being newly bought.
“You – ”, he aspirated, now glaring at the book.
“It cost me a lot of momentary overcoming, but Bullock’s books weren’t the only illegal ones I summoned at Hogwarts.”
“You – ”, he started again, narrowing his eyes even more.
“Oh well – to be honest, it was actually a very quick decision and I would have never done it if I had meant to think about it. When Ron came running back to us, followed by Crabbe’s Fiendfyre, I summoned it nonverbally, in hope it hadn’t laid where he had started the fire. And as you see, after some seconds of running, I’d suddenly held it in my hand. I don’t think any of the two noticed me tucking it into my bag while we were running for our lives. And I unfortunately have to admit, it was even a nice secret help over the years. But meanwhile, I know every detail in there. So, you can have it back.”
Not believing it, he carefully took his old copy of Advanced Potion-Making from her, scanning through the pages randomly. His eyes met with the signature. This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince. With the biggest sigh she had ever heard from him, the book fell shut and he held it back at her.
“No.”, he said serious. “It – belongs to Harry. Confess and give it to him. He would – like to have it, I am sure.”
“Why don’t you give it to him yourself?”, she said no less stern.
“Hermione – ”
“Just think about it, alright?”
“If I mus’ – ”, he moaned and placed the book to his left, weighting down the photo with it and wrapped his fingers around his elbows as he leaned onto his thighs.
“Where are we anyway?”, Hermione lastly managed to get to that point, their gaze equally on the distant mountain range behind millions of waves.
“Oh, I dunno – ’igh mountains – far green meadows – tha sea ’roun’ – foggy – ”
“Funny.”, huffed Hermione.
“Skye?”
“Goodness, you’re really getting ridiculous. Every place has sky above and I can see that it’s foggy here. It would have been just enough for me to give me the name. Or don’t you – ”
“I did,”, Severus chuckled, “Bu’ ye seem ter ’ave misunderstoo’ me. We’re on Skye.”
“Er – what?”
“I though’, ye were good a’ geography be now. An t-Eilean Sgitheanach. The Isle of Skye. Where fog frequently dines by the rocks and eats away the magnificent view – considered ye dun like ter look a’ fog as well,”
“Scotland?”, she moaned, almost hysterically.
“Yes, it’s part of Scotland.”
“For cripes’ sake!”
“If ye say so,”, he remained unimpressed by her indignation and glare.
“So much for Ukraine!”
“Oh, ’ere was much fer tha’,”
“When the hell did you move here!”
“Three an’ a ’alf years ago.”, his eyes were back at the sea.
“With the house.”, she snorted.
“Ye’ve seen me doin’ sum’thin’ like tha’ before.”
“Yes, but – ”
“Hones’ly, apar’ from tha size an’ number o’ objec’s, there’s no’ much difference if ye remember where ev’rythin’ belon’s. Bu’ I guess, tha’ it wasn’ direc’ly connected ter tha groun’, was some sor’ o’ advantage. No’ only fer balancing reasons. Though I ’ave ter admi’, I fel’ sorry fer ’avin’ had ter evic’ tha pool an’ ge’ a new one. Bu’ there was better use fer that’ room anyway at tha’ poin’ an’ it fits very well inter tha cellar, ’specially as it’s bigger now.”, for some more seconds, she could do nothing but stare at his indifferent face.
“A pool.”, she breathed. “Right – um – why did you move anyway?”
“Tz. Stupid society. Lack o’ human righ’s.”
“Meaning?”, at the moment she had said it, she remembered that she herself had just minutes ago spoken about the horrible political situation there and regretted her unconsidered word.
“Oh well, sum’one very conservative foun’ it funny ter repor’ a certain thin’ an’ suddenly tha Militisya an’ VUMPO alike came bargin’ in. Luckily ’ey decided ter discuss either authority’s validity firs’. Enough time fer a lil bi’ o’ confundin’, bu’ there was on tha other ’and no time fer security care, which jus’ made thin’s worse. I guess, ’avin’ both Muggle an’ Wizard governmen’ o’ a country agains’ ye in tha middle o’ a riot, does no’ benefi’ ye, no matter wha’ yer priva’e life consis’s o’, livin’ or dead. I mean, I’d warned ’im sum’thin’ like tha’ migh’ ’appen sooner or later, bu’ unfortunately ’e can give sum’ very convincin’ looks. Wha’ surprises me is tha’ it nevertheless took ’alf a year fer a clype ter turn up.”
“Which – ”
“Was why tha move was drastic’lly necessary. Tha’s jus’ no’ worth it, if ye can ’ave it wit’ou’ riskin’ everybody’s necks. Incredible, ’ow a lil piece o’ positively mean’ silver can crash tha whole world downside up inter a cesspool. Oligodynamic effec’. As if. An’ suddenly ye find, tha’ there is indeed law enforcemen’ tha’is better than ye. Yes, so much fer Ukraine. Still better than tha Russian law, but thin’s go’ more an’ more tense throughou’ tha las’ years there, jus’ like ye’d actually so carefully mentioned, if I ’ave ter remind ye.”
“I know.”, she squinted. “I just remembered too. So?”
“So? Well, privacy? Ferge’ it. Even if ye can conjure tha bes’ shields in tha world. If ye dun wan’ ter found yer own country, ye’ll find yerself stealin’. An’ I’d rather be back at me roots, livin’ a calm, full life sealed wit’ gold at las’, wit’ lil bu’ steady income, before I ’ave ter be careful ’ow many breaths I take or nick food from people who dun ’ave much fer ’emselves either. Though tha time ter move wasn’ pleasan’, wit’ tha waves almos’ reachin’ us up ’ere as well an’ a ’ousemate wit’ a phobia o’ flyin’ jerrycans. Never mind. Everyone suffers from global warmin’. Complainin’ rather than actin’ wun’ make thin’s better.”
Whatever it actually was that he had been reported for and all those clear metaphors of metallic matters, she could tell from his expression that it hurt him a lot to find it pilloried, regardless of his try to distract himself with talks about the changing climate. And regardless of how long they had been apart, she was surprised she had less difficulty understanding his dialect than she had had in the past. But had he mentioned a housemate? Had she been wrong again? Was he really not alone?
For some long moments she just looked at him, watched him calm down slightly. Then, curling her lips unintentionally, she moved her right hand through his thick, silky hair, caressing his head. Obviously having missed being touched by her, he closed his eyes, letting her do.
Conducted by the waves, their lips danced slowly, the tips of their tongues meeting randomly between. Almost two decades, but nothing had changed. It felt as if they had never parted, and still like it was the first kiss they ever shared. He was reserved in ways, maybe a bit uneasy, but she intended to change that.
The music of the sea played in their heads. Hermione climbed over his legs and sat down on his lap, half kneeling, the other half of her lower legs in the air. His arms glided under her clothes and up her back, feeling her soft skin, only the strip of her bra in the way. But he didn’t seem to bother. Her fingers clutched into his hair when their moves and breathing intensified.
A seagull screeched as it flew past, over the house, being granted access to the shielded area. The sea got louder; the song it played, such a familiar tune as if the world consisted of only this one melody. Though they didn’t pay attention to it. Their kissing became more tender, more controlled, softer. And then, it slowly died down, their foreheads and noses leant together. One additional kiss. Severus’ head slid past hers and cuddled into her neck. Hers did the same, holding on tight and listening to the deep, inhaling breaths he took, with his much more warming hands to her skin under the warm clothes.
Nineteen years of longing. Passed like a day only. Feeling like an eternity now. Endless minutes of comfort. Then, the inevitable broke in once more. Hermione slightly pulled away from him and reached into her pouch another time.
“You know, I wanted to bury you with Lily – ”, he lightly twitched at the name and she regretted it when his hands slid down to rest on her covered hips under her coat. “And next to you – I don’t know if you – I shouldn’t – but – I must – I – kept – ”, her lips curled worse than ever as she pulled out a bone with a sniff, strangely hearing music again. “I thought, you would want to bury him yourself.”, some wooden board grated and Severus sighed.
“An’ – who is tha’ supposed ter be?”, that he frowned at her made her so upset she could have strangled him without even fully knowing why.
“God – he’s been like a brother to you! I thought you would have felt – ”
A sleepy but oddly familiar voice in a foreign tongue caused Hermione’s eyes to gape in shock. Above all, the man was considering loudly whether he should try something `more exquisite´ he had bought the other day, on whichever last he was referring to. Blinking with confusion, she stared up at the man in the doorway, who had spoken in Russian, and examined the shiny, wound steel blade of a longer knife in his left hand, which he held up to his nose, visibly marvelling at his own reflection, almost absent from the world, in a very disturbing manner. Severus answered with words she knew to mean `Good morning´. From his tone, she could tell he was smiling, even though he was looking away from what was a rest of a corner-view.
Also now, she had it gotten confirmed that she hadn’t imagined. There was music playing, inside the house, and he must have turned it on. Blinking as well and twirling his unusually ginger goatee around his otherwise free fingers, the man stared back, still half asleep and his shoulder-length curls of only slightly different colour as the beard, a total mess. Some age marks and wrinkles had joined his freckles, but otherwise he still looked much the same. Even his teeth had neither become better nor worse. Hermione’s mouth imitated her eyes now.
“What?”, she moaned quietly.
“Hmm?”, Severus smirked and gently pushed her off a bit to see her face.
“Ah, well, good morning. Sorry to interrupt your whatever, but some indecisive patriot has woken me with their yelling.”
“You – what?”, she hissed, looking from one man to the other. “You – you’re – dead!”
“Oh – yes. I forgot.”, the second man, not having lost his accent over the years, revealed more of his yellowish teeth with a sheepish grin. “Now that explains the look on your – ah – adorkable face,”
“But – that – ”, she gazed at the bone with slight confusion. “Who’s – ”
“Is this – ?”
“I thought I was going to bury – him – along with you as well before I – and – and then I – reconsidered – thought – I might give him to you – if we should meet again, you know – ”, she paused, “Who!”, she shook the bone hysterically with her eyes on Severus. “Who have I been carrying around for nineteen years!”
“Igor?”, Severus turned his head and tried to look at the pondering man who still meddled with his beard and rotated the knife skilfully between his left fingers.
“I must have forgotten to tell you then. Or did I?”, he said to Severus, then addressed Hermione. “So you found – ?”
“Yes, I found – whoever that is.”, Hermione murmured, torn between disbelief and anger. “So, whose corpse have you transfigured?”, she demanded.
“Ah – I think – ”, he rolled his blue eyes up as if he was searching his brain for the memory, “Yes, it was a girl. She had looked dreadful, I recall. Fell victim to Greyback. Pieces had been bitten out of her neck.”, Hermione swallowed. “Ah! Was that why – ”
“No, no’ solely, an’ ye know tha’.”, Severus mumbled in between.
“Oh goodness. But I still clearly remember that disgusting taste – gruesome sense of fashion – ”
“Did she wear – a pink bow in her hair?”, asked Hermione.
“Oh, yes.”, he kept the boredly wailing tone. “Simply wrong on her. And the makeup – the battle hadn’t made it better unfortunately – ”
“Oh damn it!”, she moaned and let her head fall against Severus’ right shoulder. “That’s why we never found Lavender’s body again!”, and the hand with the bone fell slack to her side. “Are there any other dead people running around alive I should know about?”
“Now tha’ ye mention it,”, Severus held her a little closer, “Alastor go’ up early fer tha milk. There’s jus’ no relyin’ on tha goats, and since patien’ me isn’ alone an’ tha gadge loves teasin’ tha cows – an’ playin’ wit’ good Colina’s nerves – bu’ it ravishes her, I tell ye. I dunno why she ’asn’ kicked ou’ ’er grumpy ’usband ye’ an’ taken ’im instead.”
“Alastor?”, Hermione raised in his arms. “Not – no!”
“Me faul’.”, he replied brief and downright bored as well.
“How!”, there was not even the faintest pop in the distance to her left, but she heard a humming sound when a limping old man in a belted plaid, with a gnarled walking stick in one hand and a dangling big milk can in the other approached the house, drawing their attention on him.
“You better ask him.”, Igor said. “He cherishes boasting with old war stories no one wants to hear anymore.”, the man in question stopped in place when his big blue eye had spotted Hermione and he burst into roaring laughter.
“No!”, Hermione raged. “NO! I swear – ”
“Wha’ d’ye swear?”, smiled Severus.
“Innocent! Innocent, she said! And I even started to believe her! I swear, if I get my hands on Luna, I’ll force Lavender down her throat!”
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