Sweet nonetheless
Hermione and Narcissa jumped up and moved away from the door, instinctively reaching for their wands…only to remember they’d had to turn them over at the Security Checkpoint.
Stepping in front of the couple, Mafalda made her way around the room. Just before she put her hand on the doorknob, she pointed her wand at Hermione and Narcissa, disillusioning them, and reminded them to remain quiet.
Mafalda pulled open the door and stood silently for a long moment watching the faces on the other side pale considerably. “Last I checked, I’m still Department Head and use of this Conference Room is my prerogative. Has that changed?”
“No, Madam Hopkirk, I apologize. We have a meeting with the lead Investigators on the Snatcher case and this is the only room large enough,” said a handsome, middle-aged wizard who Narcissa thought she recognized.
“We can reschedule it for this afternoon, ma’am,” the witch next to him added.
“No, no, that’s an important case. We’ll be done in about thirty minutes. Just working on this Auror situation, you know,” Mafalda tilted her head toward Harry and Ron, rolling her eyes for the Investigators to see. “Completely untrained.”
Glancing into the room, the witch stepped back and nodded, “We understand, Madam.” She turned around and spoke up, “Good news, you lazy sods! You have a thirty minute reprieve before we start! So double check your notes and get your own tea from the cafe. Do not show up late. Do not allow your partner to show up late.” Spinning back to face the room, she spoke once more, “Madam Hopkirk, Potter, Weasley, see you later.”
“Good day, Investigator,” Mafalda smiled and closed the door as the waiting crowd dispersed rapidly.
Harry quickly cast silencing spells on the room while Mafalda ended the concealment charms on the women.
“I think that’s her. I think she’s the one who’s done it to Ron,” Harry said frantically.
“What? No,” Mafalda shook her head. “She’s a Lead Investigator! She’s the farthest thing from a dark witch. It can’t be her.”
“Ron, do you…know her?” Hermione asked. “Did you recognize her voice?”
They all made their way back to the seats they had previously occupied.
“Yeah, course I did. It’s Ciara, she works in the DMLE.”
“So, you’ve…talked to her a few times?” Harry pressed.
“I…I guess so. Yeah. We, we’ve met for tea at Munchies. You know, near the lifts? We run into each other there a few times a week. And then, I think we’ve gone for lunch…or something. I know we’ve eaten together. I can picture it but nothing else will come back to me. I just know I’ve eaten a meal with her.”
“Does she…are any of her workmates ever with her?”
“I don’t…remember. There've been other people, yeah, but I can’t think of who,” Ron’s face was red and his forehead was sweating just a bit.
“It’s okay, Ron,” Hermione said right away, her voice friendly, calm, and chipper, “no matter. I’m sure it’ll come back to you.” Beneath the table, her hand gripped Narcissa’s quite tightly.
“Ciara McLaggen is a well-respected member of this Department. I will not accuse her of using illegal spells without evidence.” Mafalda met Harry’s eyes and held them.
Narcissa and Hermione looked at one another with wide, startled eyes.
“McLaggen, Madam Hopkirk?” Hermione clarified.
“Cormac’s sister,” Harry clarified…or so he thought.
“Must be the Ravenclaw sibling because even I can’t imagine a Hufflepuff using an Unforgivable,” Narcissa snorted.
Hermione nodded her agreement, lips pursed.
Eying Hermione and Narcissa, Harry spoke to Madame Hopkirk once more, “What evidence would you need to speak with McLaggen about it? How can we settle this without putting Ron in danger of being Imperiused again or Hermione and Narcissa in danger of being attacked in some way?”
“Something other than, ‘I think we ate together once but I don’t really remember,’ Mister Potter.”
“Is there any way to protect Ron against it? Anything we can do to stop it happening but not let McLaggen know it’s not working?”
“No,” Hopkirk said.
At the same time, Narcissa answered, “Yes.”
Silence fell as the trio looked back and forth between the two.
“To my knowledge, there is nothing that can prevent an Unforgivable. Avada Kedavra has only been stopped once and that was by Harry.”
“Twice, actually,” Hermione interjected.
“I’m sorry, what? Did you just say twice?” Mafalda shook her head, as if clearing cobwebs out.
“I did, yes. Harry has survived the Killing Curse twice.”
After a moment to collect herself, Madam Hopkirk continued, “Well, that aside, there’s no other record of anyone surviving it. Nor is there any available documentation of people fighting off Crucio or Imperius.”
Hermione looked sideways at Narcissa, trying to gauge her comfort level in the discussion.
“In fact, Madam Hopkirk, Hermione herself escaped an intense bout of Crucios aimed at her by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange and she hasn’t even a scar to show for her troubles. So, it bears to reason then that Imperious, too, can be averted or shaken off.”
“Bellatrix?” Mafalda clarified.
Narcissa and Hermione nodded.
“Crucioed you?”
They nodded again. When nothing else was forthcoming, Hermione spoke up, “I was captured, along with Harry and Ron, and we were being held in Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix decided I had information she needed and she used the Cruciatus curse on me a number of times. However uncomfortable it was, it definitely was not the level of pain and torture that could drive me to insanity.”
“How? Bellatrix Lestrange was the most proficient torturer we know!”
“I was protected by someone else using Legilimency and Occlumency on me to preserve my mind. That’s where the pain of Cruciatus is initiated, so, protecting my mind kept it safe from the threat of insanity through torture.” When she finished speaking, Hermione looked at Narcissa with a tilted head and narrow eyes.
“I doubt we have enough time to teach Mr. Weasley to be proficient enough in Occlumency to protect his mind from a well cast Imperious Curse.”
The group fell silent once more.
“Well, if I can’t protect myself yet, another strategy would be to never leave me alone in the building. Strength in numbers, you know. But that only works if the other person is able to resist the curse. If we both get Imperioused together, we’re shot.”
“She hasn’t the skill level to curse two people at once.”
“And I’m no Master of Occlumency but I’ve had some training,” Harry added.
Narcissa, looking intently at Harry for a long moment, suddenly visibly recoiled.
“What? Narcissa, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked, immediately reaching for the other woman.
“Uh, eh, nothing, nothing, sorry. I’ve just, I remembered something I have to do today and it, eh, caught me off guard. I apologize.”
“Quite alright. It can be startling when people who are not normally forgetful lose track of something,” Mafalda said kindly. “We can wrap this up. You two never move through the Ministry alone,” she pointed at Harry and Ron, “Stick by one another like first years in the Great Hall. I’ll see if I can figure out who else could be behind this or if there’s anything in McLaggen’s history to indicate some sort of…subversive ideology.”
Hermione and Narcissa rose from the table, the others followed suit and trailed after them as they left the meeting room.
Once they were out of the Ministry, Hermione turned sharply to Narcissa, “Okay, what is it. You don’t just randomly remember something and react that way.”
Not wanting everyone who walked by listening to their conversation, Narcissa leaned in and asked if Hermione could wait until they were both back at the Manor.
“Then come back with me now before you go to the Prophet. I need to know.”
Narcissa agreed and carefully tugged Hermione into a nearby alley to Apparate to the front gates. Once they clanged shut behind them, Narcissa spoke immediately, “Harry…Harry wasn’t trained in Occlumency.”
“What do you mean? Of course he was. Dumbledore demanded Snape give him lessons.”
“Listen, Hermione, I know everyone has accepted that Severus was some kind of brilliant double agent but, if that were true, wouldn't the Order have been more successful more quickly?”
“And wouldn’t there have been a solution before Harry had to die is what I’ve thought of. But back to Occlumency. Why does it matter now?”
“Because Harry’s mind is especially vulnerable. Severus wasn’t teaching him to shore up his defenses, he was making a vulnerable teenager even more emotionally unstable and therefore more susceptible to legilimency.”
“Narcissa, are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be from what I just saw cross Harry's mind. I wasn’t trying to invade his thoughts. I just wanted to see how well protected he is from an unexpected invasion,” Narcissa paused.
“Well? How protected is he from an Imperious curse?”
“Not at all. And, judging by his lack of response to me checking his mind…he won’t be aware for even a split second that someone else is even in there.”
“But…Snape was a professor,” Hermione said morosely as the women stepped into the Manor.
“I think he was doing more torturing than teaching.”
“Surely Dumbledore must have realized that. Why would he let it continue?”
“Darling, I haven’t a clue,” Narcissa answered, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “If you’d like, I could teach you to shore up your own defenses a bit but…a lot of Occlumency training has been based in trust for me.”
“I trust you, Narcissa. Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course. Let’s speak more this evening. I want to make it to The Prophet and The Quibbler.”
Hermione nodded, wrapping her own arms around Narcissa’s waist in a hug before the older woman left for the afternoon. “And I do need to get some work done for my NEWT courses.”
Pressing a kiss to the curls before her, Narcissa murmured a hushed goodbye.
Just before she left Hermione in her study, Narcissa heard the younger woman quietly call her name. She turned back, eyebrows raised.
“Dinner tonight? Just us, here at the Manor?”
“Absolutely,” Narcissa smiled.
Leaving Hermione in the study to get started on her school work gave Narcissa pause. She hadn’t been blind to their age difference – her own son had attended Hogwarts with the woman…however, walking away as she opened a textbook was an entirely unpleasant sensation. I would never simply accept Draco marrying a woman fifteen years his senior. If Hermione’s parents were here, they would surely object.
Before she made it through the door, Narcissa heard feet scurrying up behind her.
“Cissa? Oh, good, I caught you,” Hermione grinned.
“You did,” Narcissa answered aloud. In more ways than one.
Hands reaching for Cissa’s hips, Hermione smiled up at her fiancée. “Just two things,” she blushed, “first, if you end up talking to a potential assistant today, can you make it clear that I don’t want to hear any Howlers? Is that too much? I just have such awful memories of that time.”
“Of course, we’ll figure something out with them. Perhaps simply a fire,” Narcissa winked. “Now, the second item?”
Hermione immediately flushed an impressive shade of pink. “Well, you left without kissing me goodbye.”
Blinking, it took a moment for Narcissa to answer, “I…I wasn’t sure…you were already ready to get to work and I didn't wish to interrupt your focus.”
“I couldn’t focus without a proper goodbye first.”
Narcissa slowly lifted her hand up to Hermione’s face, gently brushing the tips of her fingers along her cheekbone. Leaning down, she met Hermione’s lips with her own, dismissing any thoughts of impropriety and unhappy parents. She allowed herself to get lost in the kiss, the gentle pressure, lingering hint of tea, the faint scent of saltwater.
“I’m off now, darling,” she whispered, pulling back.
“I’ll be here when you’re done.”
Narcissa, anxious about being alone in Diagon Alley again, kept her head down and moved quickly to the Prophet office. Once inside, she took a moment to pause and gather herself once more – it would not do to present a frazzled countenance to the entirety of the newsroom.
“Miss Black! How can I help you today?” Samantha said rapidly, eyes wide.
“Oh, I just need to place an advert. Don’t worry, there’s nothing amiss,” Narcissa smiled.
Samantha, however, gave a swift lift of her eyebrows and a small tilt of her head.
Catching the motion, Narcissa frowned and pointed at the newsroom behind the young woman’s desk.
Samantha nodded slowly before silently mouthing just one name…
Breathing deeply, Narcissa lifted her head and shoulders so she stood at full height. Chin tilted up just enough to maximize the haughty look she had perfected, Narcissa stepped forward to assess the situation.
Jamison Wolfe was seated at a desk in the center of the room, feet up, chair tilted back, tossing a ball into the air rhythmically…a giant smirk on his face.
“Wolfe! Did you hear me?” Carneirus shouted.
Jamison chuckled.
“I haven’t received a single thing from you! You’re supposed to be doing that series on all the change-overs in Quidditch owners. Have you even started?” A vein was clearly visible in the forehead of the frustrated man as he shouted and shouted…to no avail.
Glancing around first to make sure she could do so safely, Narcissa wandlessly and wordlessly slid the desk out from under Jamison’s feet. As he flopped forward the ball he had been tossing landed on his head before bouncing away. Without even looking at him, Narcissa continued to Barnabas’ office, gently tapping at the door before entering.
“Oh! Miss Black! Careful there, I’m setting up the layout,” he said with a grin as she entered.
A giant version of the Prophet was floating in the editor’s office. He almost looked like a particularly excitable orchestra conductor as he used his wand to nudge articles here and there and make the accompanying photographs larger and smaller.
“I see that. I have to ask, though. What are you doing about Jamison Wolfe?”
“I have a spot for his article here.” Barnabas pointed to a whole on one page. “No photo, though, this time. I need room for the Knockturn story – those pictures are quite telling.”
Narrowing her eyes, Narcissa mulled over her next words carefully, “Barnabas, may I have a moment of your attention, please?”
Blinking at Narcissa’s serious face, he shrunk down his sample layout and gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Barnabas, have you printed a single article from Jamison Wolfe?”
“I…I’m not actually sure. I’ve left a spot for his series each day. Has he gone to print?”
“To be honest, I can not recall seeing his name in print and Matthias Carneirus is shouting at him right now about it. Barnabas, we cannot pay Wolfe for nothing. It sets a terrible precedent.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Barnabas, using a unique version of the sonorous spell that caused his voice to ring out only in the newsroom, beckoned the Sport Content Editor to his office.
Before the two men were even seated, Matthias burst out, “Please tell me this is about Wolfe!”
“It is, in fact,” Barnabas nodded. “Now, tell me please how many articles of Jamison’s we’ve printed in your section in this last week.”
Blinking owlishly, Matthias hesitated to respond. “Well, none, sir.”
“Hmm. And how many has he submitted to you?”
“Also none, sir,” he said slowly.
The room fell silent. Barnabas was shocked. He thought they had been so clear.
“If I may ask, Mr. Carneirus, just to be perfectly clear, Wolfe is aware of his assignment? He knows, without a doubt, about what you are expecting him to write?”
Matthias’ face reddened just a little, “Ma’am, we discussed it last week and when I didn’t get anything from him the next day – not even an outline – I asked if he understood the series. He stared at me. I wrote down what I asked for from him and from my other writers. It’s hanging outside my cubicle and I gave each of them a copy.”
“Well, there you have it, Barnabas. No excuses from Wolfe. He is simply refusing to work.”
Hours later found Narcissa returning to the Manor as quietly as she could. Pepper, brows furrowed, popped into the foyer to see what was keeping Narcissa so silent. Matching Narcissa’s grin with one of her own, Pepper motioned the Lady of the Manor to follow her. She nodded and quietly tiptoed behind the little elf to the kitchen where Hermione was leaning against the table chatting with Filly about dinner. As stealthily as possible, Narcissa used a silent levitating spell to deposit her surprise behind Hermione before stepping further into the room.
“Oh! Cissa! When did you get home?” Hermione startled.
Smiling again, Narcissa chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to her fiancée’s cheek, “Just now.”
A quiet hoot from the table caused Hermione to jump once more as she spun to see what had entered. Gasping, Hermione grabbed Narcissa’s forearm. “Is this the Spectacled Owl from Eeylops? The one I was looking at?”
“She is,” Narcissa nodded.
“Oh! She’s so precious,” Hermione cooed, stepping closer to the cage. “Hello, little bird. You’re so pretty, aren’t you? Perdita, I think, should suit you.”
“Perdita?”
“Do you like it?” Hermione looked a little unsure for a quick moment.
“Quite fitting, darling,” Narcissa reached one arm around Hermione’s waist. “You can open the door and let her out, you know?”
“She won’t fly away?”
“Owls are magical beings. If you’re the one who lets her out, she’ll bond with you easily. Training her to a specific bell will likely take a little longer because she’s so young but she’ll figure it out.”
Hermione, grinning once more, opened the cage carefully so as not to startle the little bird. Perdita hopped curiously to the edge of her perch and then directly onto Hermione’s arm. She tilted her head back and forth to take in the face before her own before letting out another little hoot.
“Come, I’ll call Paionia down. We can introduce them and get Perdita’s little home settled in the mudroom,” Narcissa offered, picking the cage up from the table.
Hermione hummed and followed along, smiling at the fuzzy little owl. “This was so unexpected, Narcissa! What made you stop for her while you were out?”
Nearly shrugging, Narcissa found herself without an answer she found acceptable.
“Well, it was sweet nonetheless. Thank you,” Hermione pressed a kiss to the alabaster cheek next to her own.