It's all my fault!
Narcissa silently summoned the picnic basket into one hand and pressed the other over top of Hermione’s, holding her fiancée’s arms in place around her own waist. “Is your front step protected? If I Apparate us there, will we be hidden?”
“Eh...yes. Yes, we should be. If you place us perfectly.”
“Hold on tightly, here we go,” Narcissa instructed, her voice pinched. Just before they disappeared from the hillside they watched as a bolt of lightning flashed nearby.
Moments later, the two appeared in front of Hermione’s door to find the lower steps already occupied. The wizard standing there tilted his head and stared intently; neither woman moved. Neither woman breathed.
“Hermione,” he questioned, “I know you’re there.”
Narcissa squeezed Hermione’s arms where they were wrapped around her.
“I’m not an idiot, Hermione. I can smell your perfume,” he sounded irritated.
Narcissa silently turned her head to make eye contact with Hermione. She hadn’t noticed the younger woman wearing any perfume. Hermione shook her own head slowly, eyes wide.
“Why are you doing this? Let me in. I just want to talk. We’ve been friends for years, don’t shut me out now,” Ron complained.
The couple carefully Disillusioned themselves so that if they somehow, accidentally, made a move that Ron might catch, they would hopefully still be unseen. Hermione pinched her silver ring, transforming it into the front door key, and moved as slowly and quietly as possible to unlock the door.
When she pushed the door open, Ron spoke loudly, “I knew you were home! Hermione! I see the door opening! Come out here!” He tried to climb the stairs but was still held off by the repellum charm.
Hermione gestured for Narcissa to go inside first. Unhappy, Hermione stood herself in the doorway, leaning on the frame, arms folded, and faced Ron - still hidden from sight. Satisfied that he couldn’t see her, Hermione simply stood and glared at him for a long moment. Finally, she revealed herself and spoke, breaking the barrier spell, “Ronald, what in Merlin’s name is going on right now?”
“I just want to talk to you! Why is that so bad?” He was practically shouting. “Why’d you let me stand out here so long?”
“It’s bad because I’ve repeatedly asked you to give me some space and some time before trying to speak to me again. Just last week you were frighteningly aggressive in my own home. Five days ago you attempted to hex my fiancée. Then you said you were perfectly fine just being friends. You’ll have to excuse my confusion.”
“Listen, Hermione. I’ve been talking to a few people this week. And now I know some things. You just need a strong man. And that’s me. This craziness with Malfoy’s mum? That’s not real. You and me? It’s the right thing to do. It’s natural. It’s normal.”
“Who has been saying these things to you?”
“Someone at work.”
“Are you employed by the Ministry?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I have a good job! I’m an Auror. Well, I mean, almost. I will be. Really soon. So, you won’t even have to work. You can just be a mother, like my mum. We can have a good, normal life. And then if your parents ever want to come back, they won’t be, you know, upset.”
“W...what?”
“You know, if your parents ever come back from Australia. They’d be right happy to find you with me. A mom. And a wife. And not with Mrs. Malfoy in some dark manor doing whatever she says you should do.”
“I am completely bewildered right now, Ron. Completely. You’ve just said the most offensive, ridiculous, nonsensical, vile things to me and you don’t even know it. I’m telling you right now, I’m going to pull this memory and store it in a flask so I can show the Ministry what you’ve said to me when I go Monday asking for a Protective Order. Your attitude is genuinely frightening. I don’t know who’s filling your head with these things but they’re not good people. Do not come back to my home. Ever. Do you understand?”
“Don’t be stupid, Mione, we’re going to be married, of course I’m going to visit your home,” Ron smirked. It wasn’t attractive.
“I’m going to repeat myself so there’s no misunderstanding. I’m going to pull this memory and store it in a flask so I can show the Ministry what you’ve said to me when I go Monday asking for a Protective Order...from you. Your attitude is genuinely frightening and I fear for my safety and that of my fiancée. Do not come back to my home. Ever. Do you understand?”
“No, Hermione! I don’t bloody understand! What am I supposed to do? Do you know how this looks for me? All the papers reported us as a couple all summer long. The Decree comes out and immediately announces us as one of the first to be assigned and what happens? You turn around and announce you’re going to marry someone else. And not just anyone else. Narcissa flipping Malfoy, dark witch, sister of your tormentor, mother of your enemy. You’ve made me a bleeding joke! And no matter what I do you won’t change your mind. You’re the most stubborn, mental girl I’ve ever met! Just marry me!”
Hermione frowned, one hand on the door as she stepped back. “No, Ron,” she shook her head, “no.”
She closed the door, warding it and the rest of the apartment against any visitors and then setting specific wards against Ron.
When Hermione finally gathered herself to look at Narcissa, she found the other woman watching her, a soft expression on her face. Narcissa held out her hand, five empty vials for Hermione resting in her palm. “Do you know how to extract a memory without losing any of it?”
“I understand the concept but I’ve never done it. What’s the spell?”
“Memoriae participes; place your wand tip on your temple, think of the memory you want to preserve, use your wand to pull it out of your head, and put it in the flask. When you’re thinking of the moment, try to really place yourself there, think of as many sounds, smells, feelings as you can.”
Hermione, still stone-faced, nodded. She uncorked the first flask, closed her eyes and immediately began pulling a memory from her mind. “There. Today’s conflict is stored.”
“If I may make a suggestion, my lion?” Narcissa asked gently.
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
“I also think you should preserve the other recent moments with Mr. Weasley. When he tried to hex me secretly, when he entered your room and scared us both, and the first few days of the Decree when you kicked him out? What do you think?”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Okay, just give me a moment.”
It was Narcissa’s turn to nod and she walked away, squeezing Hermione’s shoulder on her way by.
Picking up the picnic basket, Hermione found Narcissa standing beside her fireplace. “Done.”
“Where do you want to keep all of these until Monday?” Narcissa opened her palm again to show Hermione that she had three of her own memory flasks. The corks in Narcissa’s were tinted green, though, to distinguish them from Hermione’s.
Hermione’s shoulders finally relaxed a little. “Thank you,” she whispered, walking over to press a kiss to Narcissa’s lips. “Are we still going up to Edinburgh?”
“I’d like to,” Narcissa indicated.
“Hmm, okay. Let’s drop the picnic basket off with Filly and put the memories in my study at the manor. They’ll be safest there, don’t you think?”
“I do.”
Finally, a real smile from Hermione. “You just keep saying that.”
“I intend to,” Narcissa held a hand out to Hermione once again.
“Are you ready to Floo over? Can we go together?”
“I still have that ominous feeling. Would you mind terribly if I asked Filly to use his elf magic to bring us in? The wards don’t block him.”
Squeezing the hand that held her own, Hermione tilted her head, “Could someone have tampered with our private connection? I thought it was under the radar so to speak.”
“That was certainly the intention but, if the Ministry wanted to find out, they could. You live with an Auror, dear, first of all. I would never ask nor expect Harry to lie if asked about it. Then, of course, there’s the fact that the Wizengamot has granted themselves a veritable treasure trove of Emergency Powers in the past few years and nearly none of them have expired or been revoked.”
“So...basically wizarding Britain is like a duck?”
Narcissa’s face was scrunched up, her brow furrowed, lips turned down, “I...don’t...understand your reference. Unless you mean a sitting duck? A muggle hunting reference? How vulgar. But accurate. We could be seen as a sitting duck for any foreign Ministry looking to gain a foothold here.”
“I was not making a hunting reference, don’t look at me like that,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I meant like a duck on the water. It looks calm on the surface, but paddling like crazy underneath.”
“Oh! Oh, I like that much better. And I agree! To the outside - and even most of us - things look calm and under control but I think there’s a lot of struggle and fighting for control of the power of the Ministry right now. And I have no idea who to trust.”
Hermione looked away for a moment, “other than Harry, right? You know you can trust him.”
Without stopping to think, Narcissa dropped the picnic basket she had taken from Hermione and reached forward to turn the other woman’s face toward her own. “Yes, I know we can trust Harry,” she whispered. “I’m so, so pleased that we’ve come so far that you also knew without having to ask that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I can trust you.”
Leaning forward and pressing her nose to Narcissa’s neck, Hermione breathed deeply the scent of the other woman, “I don’t even smell perfume on you; I can’t believe he said that.”
Narcissa stepped back quickly, “Thank you for bringing that up! You’re not wearing perfume. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed you wearing perfume.”
“I don’t,” Hermione answered very quietly. “Before you call Filly, can I tell you something? Something from last year?”
Narcissa nodded, taking Hermione’s hands in her own, knowing they both needed the physical connection just then.
“When we were on the run last year, kind of early in the...the journey, the quest or what have you, we were in our camp and had sort of split up for a moment.” Hermione swallowed audibly before continuing. “I was near the edge of the enchantments I had put up; I had done a bunch of them, you know, to keep us as safe and protected as I could? Salvio hexia, repellum inimicum, muffliato, a shield charm, anything I could think of that would keep us unseen and unheard by anyone who happened by.”
Narcissa squeezed Hermione’s hands in support.
“Well, a group of snatchers, they were kind of like bounty hunters for the Death Eaters, they came by. Right by. As close as could be. I froze. Absolutely still. One of them, he was...inches from me on the other side of the barrier. I could see him perfectly. He couldn’t see me. He was staring right at me from six inches away and he couldn’t see me. But...but he kept sniffing the air. He could smell my perfume. Some simple vanilla musk I had picked up in a muggle shop. It made me feel closer to my parents...and he could smell it.”
“Who?” Narcissa whispered.
Tears spilled over Hermione’s cheeks, “Scabior. I don’t know why I’m crying. He didn’t catch us that day.”
“But he caught you eventually?”
Hermione nodded.
“And you’ve never worn that perfume again.”
Hermione shook her head, “Nor any other.”
“And Ronald knew that Scabior smelled your perfume. He knew Scabior stood inches from you and you were terrified. And he...he said to you today that he could smell your perfume?”
“Yes. Could his intention truly have been just to remind me of that moment? That feeling? That terror?”
“I don’t presume to know the intentions of Ronald Weasley,” Narcissa bit her lip and pulled Hermione to herself, wrapping her arms around Hermione as tightly as she dared. “Maybe we just smell like honeysuckle?”
“Mmm,” Hermione hummed in pleasure, “I perhaps wouldn’t mind it so much if that were true.”
“If you honestly believe he was saying that to put you in a state of fear, you need to tell Mafalda on Monday when we take these memories to the Ministry. Though, I haven’t ever heard of a Protective Order. Is that a muggle term?” Hermione nodded in response and Narcissa spoke again, “We call it a Writ of Safety and it’s a ward that the Ministry will put on one of the parties involved. I would certainly prefer they put it on Ronald because they can track him then if need be.”
“Do you think they even would, though? Do you think they’ll even believe me? You heard him, he’s practically an Auror; he was handpicked by the Minister.”
“Then perhaps Minister Shacklebolt should be more discerning when selecting Aurors, particularly when they’ll be permitted to work with unlimited powers and no training.”
Unexpectedly, Hermione smiled up at Narcissa.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I like you,” Hermione smirked.
“What - I - what brought that on?”
“You just kind of defended me. I liked it,” Hermione smiled again, “it was adorable.”
“Yes. Well.” Narcissa blushed and pressed a kiss to Hermione’s forehead. “May I call Filly now? Will you be alright to come to Edinburgh?”
Hermione hummed in agreement, hugging Narcissa for a long moment before stepping back and allowing her fiancée to call the house elf.
“Yes, Mistress?” Filly asked, popping into sight.
“Thank you so much for coming so quickly, Filly. I, well, I just don’t feel safe using the Floo right now and we’ve had, hmm, we’ve had an incident on the front step. Could you please use your elf magic to Apparate us back to Black Manor with you?”
“Of course. Whenever you’re ready,” Filly raised his eyebrows and his left hand.
Picking up the picnic basket in one hand, Narcissa wrapped the other around Hermione’s waist. Hermione reached out and grasped Filly’s raised hand and, a moment later, the house elf snapped his fingers. The trio appeared in the kitchen at Black Manor.
“Thank you, Filly,” Hermione said, squeezing his little hand gently before she let it go.
Filly bowed quickly before taking the picnic basket from Narcissa’s hand and starting the process of storing their leftovers. He kept pausing to glance at Narcissa and open his mouth. He never spoke, though, just...shook his head a little and continued cleaning out the picnic basket.
“We’re going to head up to Edinburgh for a little while. We need to pick something up and check in on an acquaintance. We’ll be back for supper, though,” Narcissa explained.
“Wait, Mistress,” Filly said gravely. “Pepper!”
The little elf came scampering into the kitchen, tugging on her ear.
“Are they still outside?” Filly asked, looking pointedly at the witches.
Pepper nodded before whispering, “but wizards are thinking wizards can’t be seen. But Pepper sees the wizards.”
“What?” Narcissa gasped, her skin going paler than usual.
“Narcissa,” Pepper squeaked, motioning quickly with her hand to make a chair slide out behind her Mistress, “Pepper and Filly saw six wizards outside. Wizards from Malfoy Manor. From the dark times. The scary times. Filly says wizards can’t get in.” Pepper stepped right in front of Narcissa. “‘The gates are sealed,’ Filly said to Pepper but Pepper is still a little not happy.”
“Filly, who? Who is out there?” Narcissa stood quickly and made to leave the kitchen.
“Mistress, do not be seen at the window. Pepper has been watching using elf magic to stay hidden from sight,” Filly warned.
“Who is it, Filly?” Narcissa’s voice was rising - in pitch and in volume.
Glancing quickly at Hermione before replying, Filly quietly answered, “Mistress, perhaps you should both sit down first?”
Narcissa, following Filly’s clues, looked to Hermione and found her young fiancée looking decidedly pale herself. Her hands were clenched together and she was nearly swaying on the spot. Without a hint of hesitation, Narcissa transfigured the nearest dining chair into an oversized arm chair and pulled Hermione down to sit beside her.
Seeing that Hermione was seated and not going to faint, Filly answered Narcissa’s query, “I believe them to be Crabbe, the Carrows, Pyrites, and Scabior.”
“I thought you said six,” Narcissa tilted her head, brows furrowed.
“The sixth has his or her hood pulled down too far to clearly see a face. I instructed Pepper not to use her magic to determine who it is because we might not want to alert them to the fact that we know they’re here.”
Narcissa, looking at the floor, slowly nodded. “Could there be more of them? Around the property?”
“Possibly, I haven’t seen any others, though. Pepper, can you hide yourself and check from Narcissa’s turret? Be careful and come back as soon as you’re sure.”
Pepper, eyes wide and face serious, nodded frantically before she ran off to the library.
“How long, Filly? How long have they been here?” Narcissa asked, her voice strained.
“Mistress, I do apologize, but I can’t be sure. Pepper and I were cleaning the Manor and happened to notice them outside about a half hour ago. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say they had only just arrived as they seemed to be in a group near the front gate then. After that, they spread out a bit, perhaps testing the boundaries of the estate?”
“And the hooded one? Where did he...or she...go?”
“That one stayed at the front gate. He seems to be the leader today.”
With that, Pepper popped back into the room. “Wizards are all gone. All left. Pepper thinks hooded wizard did a revelio spell and Narcissa is home and hooded wizard is scaaaared now. All the other dark wizards went running back to hooded wizard and all left. All gone.” Pepper brushed her hands together as though she was wiping crumbs off.
“Thank you, Pepper. That was quite valuable information. So...it seems our visitors wanted an empty residence.”
Hermione still sat quietly next to Narcissa.
“Pepper and Filly, will you both be home the rest of the day?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Filly answered. “We will be here and we will add our own wards to the grounds and the manor after you leave. It would be safer to call on one of us or use a portkey, please, when you are ready to come back later. And Pepper will keep watch out of the turret to make sure they don’t come back.”
Nodding, Narcissa agreed that Filly was right about the portkey before she turned her attention to Hermione.
“Darling? Are you...are you okay? Have you heard what’s going on?”
No answer from Hermione. The younger witch just sat next to Narcissa, hands clasped, knuckles white, breath coming too fast.
“Hermione, please, answer me,” Narcissa whispered, “please.” She carefully placed her hand gently atop Hermione’s. “We’re safe, darling. They’ve left. There’s no one outside anymore.” When touching Hermione’s hand got no reaction, Narcissa, more deeply concerned, turned fully to face her fiancée and moved her hand from Hermione’s hands to Hermione’s back.
Rubbing slow circles on Hermione’s back, Narcissa took a deep breath and tried to figure out the best way to get through to Hermione. Using the most soothing tone she could manage, Narcissa began speaking to the younger woman, “darling, I know that was scary. We went from Ron on your doorstep to Death Eaters on mine. But we’re safe. We’re together. Filly and Pepper are going to add more wards to the house and the property and then, tomorrow, when you and I are feeling up to it, maybe we can look at the wards we both have and add a few more. We’re both smart, strong women. We can keep ourselves and each other safe. We will not let a few rogue villains scare us off our plans, right?”
When that didn’t get the response Narcissa was hoping for, she realized she might have misunderstood entirely. “Hermione?” Narcissa leaned back, slowing her hand. “Am I...ehm...that is...do you...I’m sorry this happened. Do you need some space?” Narcissa finished in a quiet voice, trying to keep it steady. She leaned back away from Hermione, carefully trailing her hand down the younger woman’s arm as she pulled away.
Just before Narcissa let go, Hermione turned her hand over to hold on to Narcissa’s. “No, please. Don’t go away. I’m just...I’m freaking out a little. But I don’t need space, Narcissa. I’m just thinking.” Hermione leaned sideways, resting her body against the other woman’s, sharing space and warmth.
Before she could answer, Narcissa took a great, shuddering breath, determined not to cry in relief. “Do you think...I have a proposition for you, but it’s going to sound a little fresh.” Narcissa sucked in air again, in little hiccups, still fighting off tears from her earlier fright.
Pressing a kiss to the hand she held in her own, Hermione whispered to Narcissa, “don’t cry, please. It breaks my heart when you cry.”
“Oh,” Narcissa gasped, “I don’t know that that’s helping,” she teased.
Hermione awkwardly managed to slide one arm around Narcissa’s waist and tuck herself into the other woman’s side. If they spent any length of time in the armchair, they would both end up with sore backs, but she knew both she and Narcissa needed the physical closeness at the moment. “What’s your proposition? However fresh it might be.”
“Would you like to maybe stay over at Elizabeth’s in Edinburgh tonight? No one would know we’re there except Filly and Pepper - and Elizabeth of course, we’d be perfectly safe, and I think we’d both feel more comfortable out of London for the evening.”
Narcissa had barely finished speaking when Hermione answered that it sounded perfect.
“Let’s go pack some clothing in that amazing bag of yours and ask Filly to Apparate us up to Edinburgh,” Narcissa pulled Hermione up beside her and transfigured the armchair back into the kitchen chair it had been.
As the pair entered Narcissa’s bedchamber, Hermione frowned.
“What is it, Mione?”
“I don’t have any clothing here to go overnight,” she complained. “We’ll have to ask Filly to go to my flat first, I’m sorry.”
“Actually, I think you have at least a few underthings in a drawer in my armoire,” Narcissa offered, smiling and holding her hand out to Hermione.
Though she took the other woman’s hand in her own, Hermione had a look of incredulity upon her face.
“Honestly, I believe you do but I haven’t gone through the drawer myself. Pepper was doing laundry and said she came upon clothing that belonged to you. When she asked where to put it, I suggested we make room in here,” Narcissa gestured to the large, ornate cabinet before her. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, it was only just two days ago.”
Narcissa pulled open the doors and then pointed to the drawer now belonging to Hermione.
“Oh! These are mine,” Hermione laughed, “I was wearing them just yesterday! And these I was wearing Tuesday! And these are from the weekend when we stayed at McGonagall’s cottage, I didn’t realize I had even left them. Well, thank you for making space for me here.”
“That is how it works, you know, seemed like a fine time to start,” Narcissa answered, her voice pitched a bit higher than usual, decidedly not looking at the woman beside her.
“So,” Hermione dragged the word out, “can I keep this drawer?”
“You may,” Narcissa sighed, a tiny smile flashing quickly across her face. “Though, my...undergarments...are kept in the chest of drawers across the room there. If you’d like, you can have some space over there, as well, for your t-shirts and...things? And leave your trousers in this drawer and hang your other items?”
Nodding, Hermione answered quietly, “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.” She was surprised by the tears in her eyes.
“I know this is all happening so, so fast but...I still feel as though we’re taking each step on its own. Does that make sense?”
“It does make sense,” Hermione agreed, “because we’re taking the time to acknowledge every step. My giving you a key, you giving me gate access, connecting our houses with the private Floo network, my study here, now giving me drawers in the bedroom, it’s all moving in the direction we’re headed...just one step at a time...perhaps a little quicker than most couples would move.”
“But it’s okay with you?”
Hermione cupped Narcissa’s cheek in her palm, “Narcissa, it’s perfect with me.”
The two women simply looked at one another...for a long, quiet moment they held one another’s eyes and breathed slowly, deeply together, sharing the quiet, settling themselves back down from the sudden anxiety that had plagued their last half hour. When she could feel her heartbeat had slowed to a normal pace and she was no longer standing on the edge of tears, Narcissa leaned forward and met Hermione for a gentle kiss.
Separating, the women nodded at one another and silently moved around the room pulling out clothing and toiletries for a night away.
“Darling?”
“Yes,” Hermione answered, smiling.
“I think we should bring robes for the wedding tomorrow night in case we decide to go right from Edinburgh. Do you think we can manage that now? Quickly?”
“Of course, and maybe extra clothing for Sunday in case we stay at McGonagall’s cottage again?”
“The Greengrass-Rowle wedding is not in Hogsmeade, my lion,” Narcissa chuckled, “it’s in London proper, at the Café Royal. It’s to be a formal affair - perhaps we can wear the black set?”
“Yes, let’s. They’re gorgeous gowns with the formal robes to match. Um, the Café Royal? I’m not familiar…”
“Oh, it’s an old venue by muggle standards but it was purchased by one of us only about thirty years ago. It became quite posh to hold weddings there. A wizard wedding in the heart of muggle London, you know?” Narcissa placed two sets of pyjamas on the bed, side by side, and kept moving about the room pulling out clothing choices.
Hermione pulled out all of the clothing she had in the drawer and folded and stacked it on the bed. It was probably a bit too much for just two nights away but...better too much than too little.
“Hermione, shall I pull out a few extra things for you? Robes, I mean? You haven’t any of those here.”
“I won’t fit into your robes, Narcissa,” Hermione snorted and shook her head, grinning at the other woman. “You have a perfect figure and your clothing has obviously been created just for you. I am not shaped like you.”
“Sweetheart, you’re just a little shorter. Our bodies are far more similar than you think. And any minor adjustments are easy enough with a simple tailoring spell.”
“You’re kidding me, right? Narcissa, look at you. You literally have a perfect hourglass figure. All the time, whether you’re in a dressing gown or an evening gown or battle robes. I just don’t have that body type. Which, by the way, I’m fine with. Every body is different.”
Narcissa didn’t stop what she was doing, pulling out extra robes for Hermione, and placing everything on the bed. “It’s just clothing, Hermione. It’s designed to make me look that way. When I’m wearing my dressing gown, you see my body the way you expect it to look because you think I have that shape. Yes, my waist is narrower than my hips and shoulders. So is yours! I’m telling you, we’ll just bring the hem up a bit if my robes are too long but, otherwise, I guarantee they’ll fit you. The biggest difference between us is height, next is that my shoulders are perhaps a bit broader.”
Hermione didn’t answer, instead mesmerized by the way Narcissa moved so quickly with such purpose.
Heading out of the washroom, Narcissa held a basket containing her favorite bath supplies and makeup. “I’ve gathered the things you used last time you did your hair and makeup here. Let’s look at what we’ve put together and try to get going. I’d like to make it to the shop before they close.”
Hermione helped sort and stack their clothing by outfit, trousers and shirts for the evening, pyjamas, outfits for the next two days, and their gowns and robes for the wedding.
“Oh, drat,” Narcissa suddenly snapped her finger. “You haven’t any shoes for the formal gown.”
“Actually, if my clothing from last Saturday is still here, my shoes might be as well and I’m sure I could wear them again. They’re just strappy black heels.”
Narcissa, smirking, went to her closet and came back right away with the shoes Hermione had worn to Draco and Dean’s ceremony and a pair of her own looking quite similar.
“Dressed in these robes with these shoes, we’re going to be so matchy,” Hermione tried to subdue her giggle.
“I think that might be the point? Our whole purpose in attending is to draw attention to ourselves,” Narcissa rolled her eyes.
“Well, that backless gown of yours ought to do it,” Hermione pressed herself to Narcissa’s side.
Laughing outright, Narcissa wrapped her arms around the other woman, “What is it with you and my back?”
“Um, hello? Your back is gorgeous. You have ridiculous definition in your back muscles and it’s oddly...tantalizing.” Narcissa just grinned and shook her head at Hermione’s response but the younger woman kept going, “and your skin is so smooth and perfect.” Hermione watched as the smile left Narcissa’s eyes and her fiancée shook her head slightly.
“Okay, you silly woman,” she tried to tease, “let’s finish this up. After we go to the shop, you get to meet Elizabeth!”
“No, wait, Cissa. What just happened?”
“Nothing, darling,” Narcissa proceeded to stack her clothing carefully into a large pile and then do the same for Hermione’s.
“Please tell me what I said wrong. You’re obviously unhappy with something...about your...skin being so smooth and perfect.”
Narcissa, still not answering Hermione, used a sticking charm on each stack of clothing and then shrunk it down to fit in Hermione’s bag. “Should I have used the featherweight charm before shrinking?”
“No, it’s fine. Narcissa,” Hermione demanded.
“It’s a glamour,” the older woman finally answered.
“It’s a gl...what?”
“My skin. It’s far from smooth or perfect. It’s a glamour. Wearing a backless gown or robe takes a good bit of focus, in fact, to get the glamour right and make sure it’s going to last long enough,” Narcissa finally explained, rather mechanically.
“That’s why I never wear anything sleeveless anymore. I can’t cover the scar from Bellatrix with a glamour, it doesn't work on it. But it does work on the scars that go across my chest and my stomach. I probably have some on my back as well but I’ve never looked.”
Narcissa exhaled a long sigh of air, letting her shoulders slump and her head drop forward. “Quite the pair, my darling.”
“Someday soon, Narcissa, we’re going to tell our stories. They’re going to be printed in the Prophet and probably many other places as well. And then, we’re going to go out and we’re not going to cover our backs with glamours. There’s no shame in our survival.”
Still not looking at Hermione, Narcissa reached out and grasped the younger woman’s hand, “you know, I’ve never thought of my scars as a symbol of survival. I’ve always thought of them as a weakness...a sign that I couldn’t defend myself.”
“Oh, darling, no. You survived...years of torture and abuse. And no one else needs to know all of that if you don’t want to share it but I know. And I am in awe of your strength and grateful for your survival every day.”
“Merlin, and I’m so grateful for you every day,” Narcissa replied, wrapping Hermione up in her arms, hugging as tightly as she dared. A long, long moment later, Narcissa pulled back and spoke again, “Okay. Now. We look a mess but it won’t matter for the healer. He’s always got bits of plants in his hair and spices on his robes. Can you put these in your bag? And the shoes?” Narcissa gestured to the clothing and toiletries on the bed.
“Consider it done,” Hermione answered, smiling softly.
Narcissa stepped back into the washroom and Hermione could hear the water running for a few moments. “I’ve left a flannel by the sink for you if you’d like to wash your face. It always makes me feel better,” Narcissa explained.
“That sounds great. And then we can go,” Hermione held up her little bag, handing it to Narcissa so she, too, could wash up.
Hermione finished in the washroom and found Narcissa waiting, holding Hermione’s bag in one hand, the other stretched out, palm up, waiting for Hermione to grasp it. She didn’t hesitate a moment.
Filly was waiting for them in the foyer but ushered the women into the kitchen before he would leave. “We don’t want to disapparate in front of the windows, just in case they’re watching in secret. The kitchen is safer.”
“Good point, Filly,” Hermione nodded, “thanks.”
“We might be back tomorrow afternoon before the wedding to which we’ve been invited but not definitely. We’ve brought everything with us and we may decide to stay at Elizabeth’s a second night.”
“If Timber is still at the Tea House, he can pop in and let us know,” Filly answered.
“Be careful, Narcissa,” Pepper could hardly contain her tears of worry. “Be careful, Hermione Granger. Protect both of you.”
“We will, Pepper, I promise,” Hermione knelt before the little elf, “Narcissa and I will look after one another the whole time and you can come to the tea house in the morning to check on us if you’d like.”
Pepper nodded rapidly and flung her arms around Hermione’s neck. Narcissa knelt beside them and lightly rubbed Pepper’s back, soothing the young elf. “I promise, too, Pepper.”
“I believe you, Narcissa,” Pepper said, hugging her also. “I’ll see you for breakfast.”
“Okay, little one. We’ll be off now. Filly is going to bring us to the Healer’s Shop in Edinburgh. See you tomorrow,” Narcissa patted Pepper’s head before once again taking Hermione’s hand.
The last thing the women saw before disappearing was Pepper, tugging on her ears, tears running down her little cheeks.
Narcissa spoke immediately upon their arrival, “Filly, please take care of Pep tonight. She’s so forlorn! Her sad, little face as we were leaving just about did me in!”
“Pepper worries about you so, Mistress. She took such care of you at the Dark Manor and she’s adjusted very well to life being easier now. Those people showing up today upset her. She well remembers the things of which that lot are capable.”
“Poor little dear,” Narcissa pressed her hand to her heart.
“Would you mind terribly if I sent her to Elizabeth’s Tea House for the night? I’ve got the Manor well in hand and she might feel better if she thought she was protecting you?”
“Oh, Filly, that would be wonderful! Would it be okay with Elizabeth? Is traveling with House Elves a thing witches do?” Hermione asked.
Filly shrugged, turning his palms up. “They used to, it’s gone out of fashion a bit with the wars and the fight for better treatment. Some witches and wizards don’t want anyone to know they still have House Elves, some don’t want others to know how they treat their House Elves.”
“Either way, Elizabeth won’t mind. It would be wonderful if you could do that, Filly, and tell Pepper she ought to stay with us at Elizabeth’s tonight. As long as you’re sure you’ll be okay in the Manor alone?”
Smirking, Filly nodded. “It won’t be the first time, or the last, Mistresses. Be careful.” With that, Filly snapped his fingers and was gone.
Narcissa raised her eyebrows at Hermione and gestured toward the front of the shop they were near.
“Oh! This is it?”
“Mm-hmm, ready?” Narcissa smiled, stepping toward the door. It took a moment for her to realize Hermione hadn’t followed at the same pace. Turning back, she saw Hermione holding her forearm, covering the place where her scar marred her skin.
“He’s...he’s going to want to see it, isn’t he,” Hermione asked softly.
Understanding the hesitation, Narcissa immediately went back to her fiancée’s side, “I’m sorry, dear, but yes, he is. He is almost certainly going to want to do some diagnostic spells, as well, just so he’s clear on what he’s dealing with.”
“Will it hurt?” Hermione looked up at Narcissa.
Heart simply breaking at the fear in Hermione’s voice, Narcissa couldn’t help but wrap her arm around the other woman. “Some of the spells may be uncomfortable but you need only ask Sir Bliant and he will be forthright and gentle. He looks a fright, but don’t be worried. He rather makes me think of your Hagrid. Looks like a mountain man but has the kindest heart, he’s a natural healer. He doesn’t often use spells or charms to fix someone up. His salves come from nature, he crafts them himself and, when needed, will add magic to make sure it’ll work. If you’re afraid something’s going to hurt, just ask him before he does it.”
“I mean,” Hermione practically whispered, “I mean will it go back to being like it was before?”
“Sweetheart, I don’t know. I’ve only very recently seen it. What was it like before?”
“Oh, hell, Narcissa, it was awful. It bled for days, weeks even, maybe? And later, after it had kind of closed up, they tried to heal it...it was even worse. It ached all the time and burned and I swear it gives me nightmares. It’s better when we just ignore it.”
“Hermione, no. It’s not better. It’s still there and it bothers you. Especially if it gives you nightmares,” Narcissa pressed a kiss to the side of Hermione’s head. “You need to tell Bliant everything. He’s the absolute best person to help with this, darling, truly.”
Hermione nodded before leaning forward and letting her head rest against Narcissa’s cheek.
“If you don’t want to do this, Hermione, we can just go straight to Elizabeth’s. I’m not trying to force you to do something for which you’re not ready. I only want to help make it better.”
“I understand, I know you’re not forcing me. I’m just...I don’t want it to hurt again. I don’t want to start the bleeding all over. What if it just makes it worse again?”
“Bliant won’t let that happen. If he thinks he’s going to make it worse instead of better, he won’t do anything at all.”
Taking a deep breath, Hermione pulled herself back up, “okay. Let’s go.”
Narcissa smiled and followed the younger woman inside. A musical, little chime rang out as they entered the shop and they heard a bellow from the back. “Just a mo’, be right with you!”
Hermione cautiously looked around a bit, the shelves were lined with various jars, bottles, tins, and pots, interspersed with plants and bowls of brightly colored powders. It smelled of spices and ash, a heady mix that was both comforting and odd.
A big, burly man came ducking through the doorway from the back of the shop. “Good afternoon, how can I help you?”
“Hello, Sir Bliant,” Narcissa stepped forward, greeting the man.
“Narcissa Malfoy! As I live and breathe! How are you, dear one? You need something? Same as last?”
“Oh, friend, you’re too good to me. No, I don’t. In fact, I’ve brought someone I’d love you to meet today. She’d like to, well, I guess she’s looking for some advice regarding something.”
“Well, well, always happy to meet Narcissa’s friends,” Bliant reached his hand out to shake Hermione’s.
“Not just my friend, actually,” Narcissa said, blushing. “This is Hermione Granger, my fiancée.”
Bliant stopped short, frozen in place for a moment, before he could reply. “Then you give me a hug, little miss, cause that’s the best news I’ve heard in months! Congratulations!” Bliant, not quite as large as Hagrid but big enough to dwarf Hermione in size, wrapped an arm around each of the women and laughed in pure joy.
“Thank you, sir,” Hermione chuckled, “I happen to think it’s pretty good news myself.”
“And you’re no shrinking violet, either. I know who you are, Hermione Granger. Well done, Narcissa Black. Caught yourself a good one this time around,” he teased her mercilessly.
Smirking and then sticking her tongue out, Narcissa laughed at Bliant’s antics. Truly, she was so pleased he was able to put Hermione at ease so quickly.
“You better be here for dinner tonight, I want to hear this story,” Bliant shook his finger at Narcissa.
Still laughing a little, she explained, “We’re hoping to stay at Elizabeth’s tonight. It’s been a bit of a rough day and, well, we just needed a night away. Right, Mione?”
“Exactly,” Hermione agreed, leaning into Narcissa.
“Perfect. Then let’s take care of whyever you’re here so you can get settled at Elizabeth’s before suppertime!” Bliant looked back and forth between the witches, waiting for one of them to answer. When neither did, he nodded slowly and spoke a little more quietly, “here we go, let’s pull up to the table in the back and have a little chat, ladies, eh?”
“Sounds good, Bly,” Narcissa spoke gently, too, taking Hermione’s hand in her own.
The trio sat together at a scarred, round wooden table. “Okay, ladies, tell me what’s going on. Why are you here? How can I help you?”
Hermione looked over at Narcissa who was nodding in support. “I, uh, I have a scar...that I’d like...gone.”
Bliant furrowed his brows, glancing quickly at Narcissa only to find her eyes watching Hermione’s face with deep intensity.
“And this scar,” Bliant asked, “it’s magical in nature?”
“Yes,” Hermione whispered.
“And it bothers you?”
“Yes,” another whisper.
“Hmm,” Bliant nodded, “is it really a scar?”
Narcissa looked up sharply.
“Yes,” Hermione answered. “It was created, carved into my arm, at the end of March. I was,” Hermione paused, blowing out a steady stream of air. “I was tortured, repeatedly, by way of the Cruciatus Curse. When that didn’t get Bellatrix Lestrange the answer she sought, she pinned me down, pulled out an apparently cursed athame, and carved into my arm.”
“Oh, dearie me,” an incongruous phrase from the large man, “so you have Cruciatus scars and this cursed mark on your arm? You are incredibly strong to have been repeatedly hit with crucio and not given in.”
Hermione shrugged a little, looking at Narcissa to find her cheeks pink and her eyes avoiding contact.
“I don’t have any scars from the Cruciatus as far as I know. I’ve never seen them, at least.”
“The scars on your torso?” Narcissa asked.
“From the Battle of The Department of Mysteries. Dolohov hit me with an unknown spell.”
“If you had scars from repeated use of Crucio, they would criss-cross your torso, front and back. They would likely be quite thin and only slightly raised. They might not even be visible, you would just feel it when someone touched them.”
“I don’t think I have any,” Hermione said, confused.
“And you’re sure you were hit with that specific spell?”
“I am definitely sure,” Hermione stated.
“I may have a bit to say about that,” Narcissa finally confessed. “I was present during Hermione’s torture, Bellatrix repeatedly used the Cruciatus Curse on her. It didn’t scar because I used Legilimency and Occlumency to enter and shield Hermione’s mind from as much of the pain as I could while still leaving enough to satisfy Bella’s thirst for violence.”
“Oh, my...Narcissa, I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We’ve never really specifically discussed this part of that night,” Narcissa answered, voice tense, hands clenched. “And...and I entered your mind without permission...and we didn’t even know one another. It was...a violation,” she whispered.
“To protect me from torture,” Hermione reassured her. “Yes you entered my mind without asking but it was to save that very same mind from the insanity which could have easily been a result of that many rounds of Cruciatus when I was already in that state.”
“But it was MY fault you were being tortured in the first place!” Narcissa shouted.
Silence fell. Bliant leaned slowly away from the table, subconsciously trying to give the women the space they needed for their discussion.
“Narcissa, darling, no,” Hermione turned toward her fiancée. “It was the fault of Bellatrix, Tom Riddle, and the snatchers who caught us. Not you.”
Hermione reached out and tried to take Narcissa’s hands in her own but Narcissa recoiled, unable to be comforted.
“No, Hermione, it’s mine. I remember that night. It was the first time I was allowed out of my room in ages...I don’t even know how long. Draco had come home for the Easter holiday and he demanded that he be allowed to see me and, somehow, Bella let it go. I had gotten my hands on a recent copy of the Prophet and it had your...your photo, so I recognized you. And I said your name. I’m the one. It’s all my fault,” Narcissa sobbed. Sobbed. Tears pouring down her face, chest heaving, completely unable to control herself. “They couldn’t tell who Harry was...someone had jinxed him...but you...you and Ronald,” Narcissa couldn’t stop crying, she was doing her best to speak through her sobs, “were still completely recognizable. Bella was afraid to be wrong, though...and Draco...he couldn’t do it...he wouldn’t say who you were because...because he knew...he knew...he knew you’d be killed.”
“But you did,” Hermione whispered. “I remember. You did say my name. Just the one time.”
“Yes, just after I said ‘Granger’ I realized what was going to happen,” Narcissa looked at Hermione, a pleading expression on her reddened face, “Draco, he turned and looked at me so sharply, I looked into his thoughts and...and understood what he knew...and I told him he was right...he was right to keep quiet...I told him not to say who you and Ron were...to keep Harry’s identity a secret.”
“No, you didn’t. We were all in the same room. I would’ve heard you,” Hermione stated quietly, seeking the details she did not yet know.
“I did! Silently! Hermione, you know I’m a Legilimens. Of course, I trained my son. Ask him! Ask Draco! He’ll tell you! Or...or...Blaint!” Narcissa turned quickly to the man sitting silently at the table, “Bliant, do you have any Veritaserum? Anything that would force the truth?”
“No,” Hermione interrupted before Bliant could respond. “No, Narcissa. No veritaserum. No truth-telling spices added to your tea.”
“But, Hermione, please, you must let me do something to make you believe me,” Narcissa was still crying, though the sobs had lessened, and she tried valiantly to wipe the tears from her face.
“I do,” the younger woman said calmly.
Narcissa pressed one hand to her stomach and the other to her mouth, as if she could physically force the great, wracking sobs that had come back to subdue themselves. She was unable to speak.
“I’ll keep practicing it,” Hermione said, attempting to verbally reconnect with Narcissa, unsure if the other woman could handle being touched at the moment, “though I would happily say it tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Narcissa whimpered, over and over, knees hitting the floor as she could no longer stand.
“Sir Bliant,” Hermione looked over, “we’re going to need a few minutes.”
The man, tears of his own rolling down his cheeks, nodded and went to the back of the shop where Hermione could hear him moving about.
“Narcissa,” she whispered, “may I sit beside you?”
“No,” Narcissa ground out, “don’t, don’t touch me.”
Hermione breathed deeply, “Because you’re mad at me or because you’re upset with yourself?”
“Because I don’t deserve to marry you. Because I said your name!”
“Okay, because you’re upset with yourself then. Listen, please, Narcissa. It’s killing me to see you crying like this and not be able to touch you. I’m going to sit beside you, so I can at least hold your hand. You don’t have to touch me any more than that.”
Hermione sat on the floor next to Narcissa but facing the opposite way, “put your legs out, Cissa, they’re going to fall asleep if you stay kneeling like that.” Hermione spoke so calmly, trying to help Narcissa settle down, and reached across her fiancée’s body to pat her opposite hip. Then she left her hand there, quietly, gently, supporting Narcissa.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Hermione, why are you being so good to me. I am the reason you were tortured,” the older woman tried to explain again.
“No, you’re not. You made a split-second decision and revealed my identity, yes, but then you immediately attempted to stop any further effort at figuring out who I was. You did not torture me. You protected me. You saved me. Bellatrix Lestrange is the reason I was tortured. She held the wand, she cast the spell, she enjoyed the pain.”
“I’m so sorry,” Narcissa whispered once more.
“I forgive you. Now may I hug you? Please? I really need to.”
In response, Narcissa leaned forward and dropped her head onto Hermione’s shoulder, very slowly, she reached around Hermione’s waist. The younger woman however, had no such hesitation and immediately pulled Narcissa tightly to herself, pressing a kiss against the side of her head and rubbing her hands soothingly up and down Narcissa’s back.
“There, darling. So much better already, right?”
Narcissa hummed her agreement, her breath occasionally still catching in her throat from the intensity of her crying jag. “I hate crying.”
“Me, too,” Hermione commiserated, “do you need a glass of water? That helps after a hard cry.”
“In a bit, after we’ve spoken with Bliant,” Narcissa wrapped her arms more securely around Hermione’s waist, starting to pull the younger woman closer. She paused, however, to seek consent, “may I? That is, would you…”
“Mm-hmm,” Hermione agreed and slid herself sideways onto Narcissa’s lap. “We’re going to be just fine, Narcissa.” Hermione hugged her fiancée again. “Thank you for being so honest with me.”
“Thank you for trusting me and for understanding what happened.”
Hermione took Narcissa’s face in her hands, thumbs caressing Narcissa’s delicate jawline, and pressed a kiss to the other woman’s lips. “I’ve told you before that I trust you. I meant it then, I mean it now, and I’ll keep reminding you as long as I need to. I trust you, Narcissa Black. With my life.”
“I trust you, Hermione Granger. With everything.”
The women kissed again, taking time to reconnect and reaffirm their bond after the emotional upheaval of the previous little while.
“Ready to talk, Narcissa? Hermione?” Bliant came out with a tea tray and biscuits. “The chairs are more comfortable than the floor, you know?” He winked at Narcissa when she looked up at him, a little embarrassed.
“So I’ve heard,” Hermione joked back, pressing one more kiss to Narcissa’s forehead before standing and reaching her hand out to pull Narcissa up.
Before they sat back at Bliant’s little table, Hermione pulled her chair and Narcissa’s toward one another.
“You have a heart of gold, my lion,” Narcissa murmured as she sank gratefully into her seat.
Hermione followed suit, sliding her chair even closer to Narcissa’s and resting her hand on Narcissa’s leg. “Are you okay, Cissa? Truly?”
“I will be. Tea and biscuits, then maybe a little nap before supper would help,” Narcissa tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace.
“It’s been a...well...just a long day, Sir Bliant,” Hermione explained, leaning into Narcissa a tiny bit. “It started off wonderfully, watching the sunrise and then we popped over to the Hill of Tara for some practice, but…”
“But I saw a grim and insisted we leave,” Narcissa confessed.
“A grim? Are you sure?” Bliant took Narcissa quite seriously, it appeared.
“I don’t know. We were lying on a picnic blanket,” Narcissa blushed, “looking at the clouds, all white and fluffy, and Hermione pointed out a rain cloud on its way that looked like a dog. It was the only rain cloud in the sky, it was quickly darkening, and - to me, at least - it looked like a grim. When we Apparated away, the last thing I saw was a humongous flash of lightning...from that cloud.”
“A good thing you left, for sure,” Bliant agreed. “Has anything happened?”
Hermione snorted, “Narcissa took us to the front step of my flat. She landed us perfectly within the bounds of my protection wards, and thank goodness she did because there was a very unwanted visitor standing on the steps waiting for me.”
“Who?” Bliant looked as though he was watching a soap opera.
“Ron Weasley. And I’m sure that sounds fine to you but it’s not. He’s been acting…” Hermione looked at Narcissa, unable to find the right words.
“Aggressive, controlling, possessive, immature, bigoted?”
“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “All of those things and worse. He’s been asked repeatedly not to come to the flat and he was there anyway. He said some...well, he referenced some events that happened last year in a discomfiting and, what I felt was, a threatening way. We got Narcissa inside and then I appeared in the doorway to send him home and he only got worse. Saying things like I need to marry a man and what I have with Cissa isn’t real because we’re both women. Just really immature, bigoted nonsense. I sent him away and told him I would be going to the Ministry Monday to ask for a, well I called it a Protective Order but Narcissa tells me the magical equivalent is called a, um, ugh, what was it again?”
“A Writ of Safety,” Narcissa supplied. As she had watched Hermione speak about Ron, Narcissa could see the tension returning to Hermione’s shoulders, and her hand clenched her tea cup. Though Hermione’s left hand, where it rested on Narcissa’s thigh, stayed relaxed and her thumb occasionally rubbed back and forth, reminding Narcissa she was being cared for. In turn, Narcissa - slowly and carefully and hoping not to be rebuked - put her arm around Hermione’s shoulders. The younger woman immediately melted into Narcissa’s side.
“Yes, a Writ of Safety. He didn’t even seem to react to that. He just kept telling me to marry him. And I just kept saying no.”
“Right, because you’re…”
“Marrying Narcissa,” Hermione finished for him.
“So you say but I don’t see a ring? Maybe Ron would take you more seriously as a couple if you had engagement rings?”
Narcissa’s jaw tensed and her cheeks pinked a little, thinking about the ring she had just ordered for Hermione and her plan to officially propose to the younger woman.
“He might but, then again, he might not. And just because we’re not wearing rings in public doesn't mean we don’t have them. Perhaps we don’t want to show off. Perhaps we don’t want to lose them or share them with other people just yet,” Hermione’s tone had gotten a little belligerent.
“The truth is, Bly, we were both assigned to marry other people - Hermione to Ron and myself back to Lucius - and, so, we didn’t propose to one another in the traditional sense. We are engaged to be married. I’m going to be Hermione’s wife. We’ve set a date and booked a location. But not because we exchanged engagement rings. Because we had to stop the Ministry from forcing us to marry others.”
“I see. That could put a strain on a relationship,” he said gravely.
Hermione nearly chuckled while Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Honestly, old friend, I don’t think it has...at all. There are plenty of things which put a strain on our relationship but fighting the MInistry isn’t one of them. We’re good at that.”
“And we’re a formidable team,” Hermione chimed in.
Narcissa closed her eyes for a moment, a small smile finally upon her face once more.
“And this formidable team, after facing Ronald Weasley, went back to Black Manor to find that there were six Death Eaters watching the house.”
Bliant dropped his tea cup onto the table with a clatter, “wh- what? Why? Who?”
“Yes, six of them. We don’t know why. It seems they left when we arrived home. We know who five of them were and, honestly, it’s extremely concerning that a few of them aren’t in Azkaban or at least under house arrest. They were Vincenzius Crabbe, the Carrows, Pyrites, and Scabior. The sixth one remained hooded so we don’t even know if it was a witch or a wizard.”
“So that’s why you’re going to stay with Elizabeth tonight? Just avoid the Manor for a little while all togehter?”
“Yes, it seemed safer. We don’t know why they were there. And we don’t understand how the Carrows are still free. Any of them, really, but in particular the Carrows, who spent the entirety of the last school year literally torturing children.”
Narcissa gasped and looked at Hermione, “torturing children?”
“Yes! They were teaching Dark Arts - not Defense Against the Dark Arts, mind you, just Dark Arts - and they used that time to teach students how to execute the Unforgiveables and torturing children who fought back. Neville, Ginny, Luna, Seamus, Cho, nearly every student in Gryffindor is well accustomed with the feeling of the Cruciatus Curse. As are a good portion of Ravenclaw and some Hufflepuff.”
“But, Sev. No. You know what? That’s not why we’re here right now. We can talk about that another time. Now, you need to explain your scars - how you got them, from whom, and what we’re looking for - to Bliant.”
“Right, thank you,” Hermione kissed Narcissa’s cheek. “So, I don’t think I have any scars from the Cruciatus but I do have scars on my torso from an unknown curse cast by Dolohov. It looked like a...whip? Made of purple fire?”
“Oh! That’s, uh, hmm...that could be a Maledictus spell. Those are unusual, dark magic. No one teaches those, that knowledge would have been passed down through a family. Hmm, I think I have a picture of that spell and those scars in here,” Bliant had turned in his chair to dig through a desk drawer behind him. He pulled out a photo album with the words Maledictus Magicas on the cover in large, red letters. “Photos of cursed magics,” he explained, flipping quickly through the book.
“You have photos of cursed magics? What for?” Hermione asked.
“For exactly this, darling,” Narcissa explained. “Healers need to know exactly what it is they’re healing and to do that, we need to know what was used against us. His photo albums will help us identify if something was cast at us or not by either the way the spell looks coming off of someone’s wand or how the reaction of our bodies looks.”
“Here!” Bliant exclaimed. “Maledictus Excandescunt - cursed flame, I think? It looks to me like a purple whip of fire. Is this what it looked like? Do your scars look like this?” He turned the book around so Narcissa and Hermione could see the photos.
“Wow, yes,” Hermione was surprised, “that’s exactly what it looked like. And my scars look a lot like that.”
“Excellent, then I already have some ideas about what would work on those scars. Now, let’s talk more about the other one. The real reason you’re here.”
Hermione took a very deep breath and blew it out in a great huff, then she began rolling her sleeve up. “Bellatrix Lestrange used a cursed athame coated in poison to carve this into my arm.”
Bliant looked carefully at the mark across Hermione’s left arm, as did Narcissa. She rarely saw it, only when they bathed together as Hermione was careful to always wear at least a three-quarter sleeve shirt.
“What poison was used?”
“A nightshade mix,” Narcissa answered, “but it didn’t poison Mione. I was...those were dark times, Bly...I was in the room when Hermione was tortured.”
“Yes, you’ve said you protected her as much as you could from the Cruciatus,” he nodded at his old friend.
“Well, I also drew the poison into me when Bellatrix was carving into Hermione.”
“Oh, Narcissa, that was so foolishly brave!”
“I couldn’t let my sister poison this woman in my own home. She had her trapped, tortured, pinned to the floor, and now poison as well? I simply could not stand for it.”
“She saved me,” Hermione smiled. “And then Pepper saved her.”
“Pepper?”
“One of my House Elves,” Narcissa explained, “she knew what had happened and brewed the antidote while Riddle, Voldemort, whatever you want to call him, took his anger out on Draco and myself.”
“But you survived,” Bliant pointed out, nodding once.
“We both did,” Hermione agreed.
“Thank goodness,” Narcissa replied, leaning in for just one more kiss.