Chapter 39
April 9th, 1944
Hope
“Miss?”
Grumbling, I try to roll over as I fight against consciousness. Only, metal clinking together pulls me further from the blissful abyss I found myself in. The more I come to, the more uncomfortable I become. Cold encapsulates me from every side, wrapped around my extremities, and making me shiver. Sniffing, I catch some familiar scents, but mainly I find damp stone and iron, scrunching my face in disgust when the flavor hits my tongue. What I’m laying on is far too hard to be a bed, something that occurs roughly once a month, making me wonder where I ended up after a transition. Only, when I open my eyes, I slam them shut again. Harsh reality is waiting for me, but I’m not ready to meet her yet.
“Please, Miss,” a familiar voice begs. “Wes musts be getting yous readys now.”
A whimper escapes me, but I can now place who the voice belongs to. That would be Dobby, the elf I was praying could save me from the predicament I’ve landed in. In truth, it isn’t fair to pin all my hopes of escaping on someone who works for the enemy, but it isn’t like there are a lot of options. It would be easy to take out my anger on the poor elf, that’s what Purebloods do, after all. But, with the orders he’s been given, he has as much say over me walking down the aisle as he does over the sun rising in the East.
With a deep, fortifying breath, I look at the tentative posture as a hand reaches out to nudge me, “Hello, Dobby.”
He snatches his hand away from my skin, and when I sit up, I understand why. Chains are the only thing I’m currently wearing, other than the dried blood caked around my shackles. The wolf in me must have tried to break free through sheer force, and I clearly paid the price. Not that it matters, by now I’ve healed, and a little blood won’t scare the Malfoys away. My deep frown feels necessary, I grew up in the twenty-first century for crying out loud. Sure, arranged marriages still happen, but not to me or anyone I knew. Just a privilege I took for granted, it seems.
“Miss will bes the mosts lovely of brides,” Dobby tells me with a cautious smile while he quickly releases me from my restraints. “Everythings is perfect, Miss will bes mosts pleased.”
Rubbing my newly bare wrists, I try to smile when I say, “Thank you, I appreciate that.”
Once I’m free, he hands me a robe and slippers, which I gratefully accept. Walking around the Manor completely naked would be a lot— the slip that now lays in tatters on the floor barely covered me, but it was better than nothing. Ascending the stairs, I’m pleased when heat finally hits me, but that’s about it. Now, the halls feel eerie and foreboding, the sneering paintings making me want to growl.
The whole way back to my guest rooms, I have to keep reminding myself that a tantrum will only lead to torment or death, and neither for me. Anthony and Dopney are still being kept somewhere, and their lives are what is important right now. Hope might be my name, but its absent from me this morning. No one came to save me, no one is going to stop this farce of a wedding.
Leading me to the bathroom, Dobby motions for me to stand still. With a snap of his fingers, five more elves appear, none of which I recognize. Thankfully, they don’t make me hold a conversation as I’m brought to a giant tub. Steaming water meets my skin, and it quickly turns a bright pink as I submerge myself. Hands appear, some scrubbing my body while others handle my messy hair, but I only have the energy to float and let the elves work. Fighting them would be pointless and futile, likely resulting in punishments I don’t need on my conscience.
After I’m squeaky clean, I’m ushered into another robe before being seated in front of the ornate vanity in the bedroom. A blur of elves scurry about, some giving manicures or pedicures, others drying and styling my hair, while even more lotion me up before doing my makeup. All the things I should be doing in a room filled with my friends.
Mary should be arguing with Eithne over how dramatic my eye shadow or lipstick should be while Amanda and Taylor perfect my hair. Laughter and music should be so loud that someone complains, our fun too much for whatever bridal hall Tom and I should have chosen. Anthony should be able to walk me down the aisle, or even Dumbledore for all I really care. But none of that is happening— as my wedding dress is secured, finally placed in front of a mirror, I don’t look like the blushing bride I should be.
For a second, I don’t process what I’m seeing— not the bun situated on my left side, the lips that are the exact shade of blood red Tom likes. Then, I blink and clench my jaw, willing myself to fully take in my reflection. Not mine—theirs. The Malfoys’. They’ve molded me into the sorrowful centerpiece to this joyless celebration. My fingers twitch at my side; for a moment, I consider smashing the mirror into a thousand shards, just so I don’t have to look at myself.
It doesn’t matter that I look beautiful, that my dress fits me to perfection, that the red lipstick makes both my eyes and hair pop. Who cares that I’ve magically extended the shoes provided so that my skirt doesn’t touch the ground, there’s no one here to joke about my shortness with. The nude brown, smokey eye is impressive, and I still thank all of the elves profusely for dressing me. Even if this feels more like a funeral than my wedding, white dress be damned. Staring at my reflection, I try to dredge up the fighter in me, the girl that refuses to give up. But, images of Anthony’s unconscious form and Dopney’s fear and tear-filled eyes keep me from racing toward an exit.
Dobby comes to my side, offering me another encouraging expression, holding onto my fingers in his tiny grip. With a wave of his hand, the glamour on my engagement ring disappears, and he gently begins removing the green and blue flower I hold so dearly.
When I try to snatch my hand away, he holds on with surprising strength, and gives me a look that screams ‘trust me.’ Holding my breath, I allow my friend to take off my ring, before covering my hand in a white glove that reaches above my elbow. My other hand is covered next, and then he returns my ring to its rightful place, adding another glamour with a wink.
“Good morning!” a cheery voice sings from the doorway, making the elves squeak before rushing about at double the speed. “Oh, you’ve all done a marvelous job, she looks just exquisite. Almost no one would be able to tell how low born she is.”
Rolling my eyes, I don’t look away from myself as Hazel Malfoy waltzes into the room. It’s not like she’s speaking to me, no reason to throw myself into her path. Her praise doesn’t make the elves happy, as one might think.
Instead they cower further, as if anticipating her wrath despite the happiness I heard in her voice. Honestly, the Lady of the house might hurt them no matter the mood she’s in, I certainly heard how much she enjoys torture last night.
“And how is my abstinent daughter-in-law?” the witch asks as she steps up beside me, making eye contact through the mirror. My dress blocks her outfit, but the smile she’s wearing makes me shudder.
“I’m not a Malfoy yet,” I grumble, wondering if the elves would stop me from divorcing the shriveled heart from her chest. It is something I’ve always wanted to do, “Isn’t my cooperation enough? Do we have to spar this early in the morning?”
A lady like giggle is hidden behind a gloved hand, and I hate how perfect this woman is. Mary and her have the same hair color, but Hazel’s red looks enchanted— which it likely is. Glowing might not be the right word, but it moves in the wind in a similar way to flames dancing. Usually, she only wears the lightest of makeup, but today her angelic features are only more pronounced. Actively suppressing my eyes from changing color takes up all my mental space, and Mrs. Malfoy laughs about as hard as someone of her status is aloud.
“I can see the murder in your eyes, little one. You are more than welcome to try, however I imagine you would feel terrible in the event you succeed. Did you truly think I would step into a room with you without ample insurance?” the condescending tone she uses makes her words hit like a blow to the gut.
When she dares to place a hand on my shoulder, I growl menacingly, baring my teeth at the real her instead of the reflection, “What? Is everything else not enough?”
“Slytherins enjoy finding clever exceptions to rules, a trait I believe you also have in your arsenal,” she sighs delicately, as if Hazel is being so incredibly kind by explaining the crazy happenings of her mind. “Seeing as our kind often find themselves on opposing sides, it would not hurt to practice the antithesis of this skill. If one has a mind for loopholes, then you may also craft a work so solid that no one can get around it. What you clearly see as cruelty is simply a safety measure so I may end the ambiguity surrounding the conditions of your friends.”
That makes me pause, but only the mention of information. Really, that was a long winded way to tell me I should be more clever, and the insult bounces off my thick skin effortlessly.
Staying on topic is important, but first I have to know, “Tell me what exactly your ‘safety measure’ entails, and then how Dopney, Deek, Anthony, and Abraxas are.”
Her eyes roll as she turns away from me, walking until she sprawls out on the puffy couch within the bedroom. Twirling a lock around a finger, she smugly tells me, “If you successfully dispose of either me or my husband, our elves have been spelled to eradicate the grounds of their species. To be clear, I don’t mean a mass exodus.”
“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” I hear myself ask before I can stop myself. At this point, backed into a corner as I am, I don’t really care, “All this, just for power? I’m sure your husband shared our conversation, it isn’t as if this will end well for you.”
A deep sigh exits her lungs, but she continues to explain the situation, which is a little nice, “In truth, we only need you to be compliant through a pregnancy. Once an heir arrives, we are young enough to raise a child anew if you both must go. It would be the kind of revenge I expect from a powerful witch, one I imagine you could not keep us from stopping for a prolonged time. That is simply a risk I must be willing to take, and wish that my son will understand why we are forcing him into…this.”
She gestures towards me, but Abraxas would have a very different objection to me as his wife. That aside, I can see where her insane brand of thinking might be masqueraded as logical. It makes my head hurt, but I see where she’s coming from.
“How has no one pieced together that you guys are behind all this?” I ask, waving my around the room. If she’s in a sharing mood, I might as well push it, “Two staff members are absent, along with three students. Based on who, it wouldn’t take a genius to piece the mystery together.”
“Simple, only one staff member and two students are unaccounted for. When my son and the male elf are not around, they’re back at Hogwarts. Under threat of his daughter’s life, the elf takes Abraxas, and only Abraxas in and out of the castle to our estate. Otherwise, both are assisting in the search for you, but to no avail,” she says the last part as if it’s a huge tragedy. Mocking me with a sly grin.
Holding my tongue for a second, I question the structural integrity of her plan. Maybe I’m realizing just how much faith she has in herself and her family, finding just how blind her hubris might make her. But, I have to keep her talking, so I put a pin in that train of thought, “Whatever, how are my other friends?”
Clicking her tongue, “The elf is sequestered in locked broom closet, brought all the essentials regularly, and is otherwise unharmed. Your wizard friend, however, will receive the antidote to the Draught of Living Death from an elf the moment you walk down the aisle, and join hands with my son. Once the ceremony begins, it would be dangerous to end suddenly, so nothing will stop the marriage.” The pointed look she gives sends a clear message, any outside interference won’t work up until the fruition of her plan. Consequences be damned, “Mind you, if I must wait much longer before you arrive at the dais, I may start playing with the boy early.”
Gulping, I hesitantly ask, “Where’s Abraxas right now?”
“Waiting for his bride at the alter,” she tells me as she stands, offering me a hand.
**
Hope
I’ll give my kidnappers one thing, they know how to throw one hell of a wedding. No one will ever hear me admitting to such, given the details of the event, but internally as I prepare to walk alone, I’m impressed. The aisle leads to the entrance of the gardens, which are in full bloom, offering a gorgeous backdrop with a convenient arch. Without the need for an audience, aka unnecessary variables to the Malfoy’s plot, only my supposed in-laws will act as witnesses.
An ancient wizard in billowing, purple robes stands directly below the bridge of white and red roses, with Abraxas standing to my right of the man. Both have white hair, but thankfully I don’t have to theoretically kiss the dude with the matching beard. He hasn’t seen me yet, but my oddly betrothed looks like a dream in his tailored robes. Perfectly coiffed white hair, recently shaved face wearing the smallest of smiles, and hands placed confidently behind his back. The only problem is that Malfoy isn’t my dream, no matter how good he looks standing in the morning sun, my heart shrivels up inside my chest.
“Miss, is times,” Dobby whispers as he hands me a bouquet. “I’s can gives Mr. Potts his medicines when you does.”
With a sigh, I glance around the solarium, wishing there was something here to delay the inevitable. Nothing in this beautiful room is up to the task unfortunately, so I try my best to smile at the elf that’s made this situation as bearable as can be. Hopefully, a shaky smile can serve as my thanks, not trusting my voice at the moment. My pride won’t allow me to cry in front of my enemies, but my emotions seem to have other plans.
Staring at the Winter Iris and Christmas Roses that make up my bridal bouquet, I force a foot forward. An errant thought about the odd floral arrangement flits through my mind as I take my second step. Just my mind fighting against the reality I’ve found myself in. The sun hits my back, still welcoming me outside, for the time being. Given my new husband-to-be, I wonder what kind of daylight ring he’d prefer.
Mary likely still has the wedding ring I’d gotten for Tom when we went shopping for the dress I’m wearing. By the time my birthday arrived, I had planned on enchanting the green aventurine with a kyanite and chalcedony blue inlays to keep him safe after we became vampires. Abraxas won’t be receiving that ring, maybe I’ll put it on a chain to wear around my neck. I’m just not sure how I’ll feel once this is over.
Finally reaching my unfortunate fiance and the ancient wizard, Malfoy holds his hand out with a kind smile. My face scrunches before I can stop myself, but I smooth my features while hovering my hand just above his. This isn’t what I want, but I’m not doing this for me. Entering this marriage is for the lives of my friends, and an end to being a prized breeding mare too many heirs are salivating over.
Hesitantly, I place my hand in his, turning to watch Dobby apparating away. Being pulled forward brings my attention to the wizard holding me, taking my other hand in his as well. A thump forms in my throat, threatening to choke me, and I fix my eyes on the person performing this ceremony.
“To begin,” the old man says in a withered voice, his face resembling a basset hound. “I will slice each of your palms, which then must be interlocked again.”
Producing a ceremonial blade from his purple robes, I numbly offer him the hand my betrothed drops, ignoring the slide of satin across my skin, not even flinching when the silver blade cuts through my skin. He moves on to Abraxas, and I watch the red leaking out of my already-healing wound. While dealing with Malfoy, the wizard whispers something far too low for me to hear, and then my blood continues to flow unimpeded. Blinking my surprise, I don’t have time to do more than raise a questioning brow before another injury is pressed to mine.
“Please recite your vow Mr. Malfoy, as I begin to tie the string. Miss Mikaelson, once it is your turn, you will repeat after me,” he instructs, taking a long, silver string from his sleeve.
Sniffing the air confirms what my eyes cannot believe, that is one long and thin chain made of pure silver. If it was about a fifth of its length, I might have mistaken it for a simple necklace missing a charm. How much something like that must cost, turning metal into a malleable line is no easy task, let alone in this time period.
“Through fate’s design and my own will,” Abraxas starts while oldie begins wrapping the silver around my right wrist. “I weave my soul with yours, Hope Andrea Mikaelson. By name, by blood, by magic, I bind myself to you. I welcome you into my soul, as you welcome me into yours. Your strength shall be my strength, your burden my own. No force of death, time, change, or treachery shall sever what is forged this night. You are my equal, my heart, my mate. With you, I stand. With you, I fall. For eternity, you are mine, I am yours, and we are one.”
Deigning to watch our bleeding hands being tied together instead of the groom as he proudly declares his vows. Seven times around my wrist, followed by seven around Malfoy’s, then once where my fingers meet the top of our hands. That’s when I notice a familiar ring situated on his finger, one I’m intimately familiar with. Confusion fills me, and I look up into the smiling face that no longer holds the blankness that comes with the Imperius Curse.
“Now repeat after me, Miss,” the elderly man croaks, suddenly sounding like he’s in pain. “Through fate’s design and my own will…“
“Through fate’s design and my own will,” I say, my voice carrying an air of disarray. My gaze bouncing between my soon-to-be husband, and the officiant. The hand in mine feels odd in my grasp, and when I look down, I see his skin bubbling.
“I weave my soul with yours,” a rasping voice says, reminding me that I have lines to recite.
Swallowing my questions, and with a shaky tone, “I weave my soul with yours.”
By now, the bubbling skin has migrated to nearly Abraxas’ entire body. His grip tightens on my hands as he struggles to hold his posture. The old man is similarly afflicted, his face now reminding me of Glimmer from the Hunger Games. Dying by tracker jacker stings looked painful in that movie, but the moving lumps on the faces before me are even more disturbing. Instinct makes me try to drop my hands and back away, but both magic and the groom’s tight grip keep me stationary. As if a barrier has been erected around us, our joined hands creating a force that does not want to be broken.
“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” the strange man gasps out as he suddenly grows quite a few inches.
“What!” I hear Hazel screeching like a banshee. But I pay her no mind, too busy watching Abraxas’ features changing before my eyes.
White hair first lengthens, coiling against his scalp before it quickly darkens to an inky black. Being a similar build to his friend, I watch his silhouette broadening a bit, and the robes become a little tight around his shoulders and chest. Glancing down, I find a flash of ankles, the hem now just barely too short. When my gaze finally meets that of the man standing before me, I find the same mesmerizing black I had dreamed about seeing on my wedding day.
More in shock than anything else, I breath, “Tom Marvolo Riddle.”
Ripples of magic rack across my skin, and I turn in time to see the glorious Hazel Malfoy flying through the air in a streak of green and red. It seems she tried to rush the ceremony, trying to stop the very thing she herself claimed to be unstoppable.
Whether the barrier that repelled the woman is apart of Eterna’s Promise or the scheme that clearly is playing out before my eyes, I have no idea. But, we continue as if Mrs. Malfoy’s outburst hadn’t happened.
“My magic is yours, my strength and being forever entwined with yours. I welcome you into my soul, as you welcome me into yours,” says the same voice that I heard the first vows being spoken in. Only, when I turn my wide eyes on the officiant, the ancient man has transformed into the real Abraxas Malfoy.
I repeat his words, a smile slowly sprouting across my face. Tears gather in my eyes as I finish the last few lines, trying to hold it together while Tom blurs in my vision, “No force of darkness, time, change, or death shall break us. You are my equal, my heart, my mate. For eternity, you are mine, I am yours, and we are one.”
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Hazel screeches, magic crackling at her fingertips. Her face twists, elegant composure shattering into raw fury. “STOP THIS. STOP THIS NOW—”
Only my head swivels as I watch the scene unfold. Armond brandishes his wand, throwing spells and curses at the three of us. Each bounces off the invisible boundary as his wife clambers back to her feet, her face matching her hair. Except, she freezes in place before she can act more. Her yelling stops, and she transforms into a statue of absolute rage.
At the loss of her voice, Mr. Malfoy turns just in time for him to be flung backwards, flipping in the air before landing hard on his belly. His limbs scramble around on the ground, looking like a turtle struggling to lift its shell. Not long after, his form solidifies as well, joining his wife in her stillness. The entire ordeal happens in a matter of seconds, but felt so much longer. Dobby steps into the forefront, putting my musings to rest, as he bashfully rocks on his heels.
“Master Abby,” the elf happily squeaks, finally done cowering. “The ceremony musts continues.”
A wet giggle escapes me as a couple errant tears charge down my face, and when I look back at my soon-to-be husband, I offer a wobbling smile. Love and happiness make every cell within me vibrate, my chest filling with all the emotions I’d hoped to feel on this day.
He didn’t leave me behind, he found me, he saved me. How doesn’t matter in this moment, the simple fact that he did is enough for painful relief to rush through my veins. None of the last forty-eight hours weighs on me as I look at the man that belongs to stand across from me during Eterna’s Promise.
Clearing his throat, Abraxas says, “Very right, Dobby. Thank you.” Gently dropping the end of the silver string, the two ends dangle beneath Tom and I’s interlocked hands, our blood still flowing together. “Two souls, seeking unity. Two fates, intertwining. Two ends, meeting as one.”
As he speaks the last words of the ceremony, I watch the ends of the string reaching for each other. Once they touch, the metal melds together, creating a hoop out of a line. Something symbolic, as magic tends to be, but also more. Once the chain again rests, my vision goes black. I don’t lose my consciousness, more like I’m propelled into another body, another life.
It takes only seconds for me to realize I’m in Tom’s body, moving through his life as if I was him. This is different from when I searched his mind, that day was spent with me traversing his memories, thoughts, and feelings for hours. Now, on the other hand, it feels like I am moving through his life as he did, thinking that which he thought, feeling everything he went through. Except, only within a matter of moments, something that should make me beyond dizzy.
While the events may not have changed, the experience is unparalleled. The difference between imagining something and actually living it. When my vision clears, depositing me in this very spot, back into my body, I know everything that went on. All the meticulous planning Tom did in order for us to end up here, standing face to face.
Blinking, I look up at my husband, only to find his features twisted in pain. Our hands are both still interlocked, even as he falls to a knee. He doesn’t shout or even grunt, but his body trembles as his scent changes. Not by a lot, the same notes of whiskey, smokey oak, parchment, cinnamon, and clove are still present. If anything, when I sniff, I find the smallest hint of my scent now coming from him.
Plus, the classic smell signifying that Tom is now an activated werewolf, letting me know that the ceremony was a full success. Being born to be a wizard, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that changing to match my freakish species wouldn’t be pleasant. So, I encouragingly squeeze his hands, praying that it ends quickly. After about ten tense breathes, I feel the current inside of him subside, and then Tom lets loose a sigh of relief.
Finally, that was quite intense.
“What?” I ask, confused why I didn’t see Tom’s mouth move when I heard his voice.
His gaze flies to mine, blue crashing against a black shore, and he smiles like a damn movie star as he stands again. Only, Abraxas is the one to speak next, “That should be the end of the ceremony. You are free to release your hands.”
“Thank you,” Tom tells him with a mischievous grin. “If you wouldn’t mind informing my in-law about his niece’s whereabouts, I believe he will be elated to deal with her captors.” For a moment, his expression falters, and he turns to ask me, “They’ve served their purpose, correct? You do not need them for the future?”
My lips twitch with amusement, but I confirm, “Yes, they aren’t even characters mentioned. As long as Abraxas is here, his parents are of no use to me.”
“Lovely, do you have any aversion to what we discussed?” he asks our cheery officiant.
Fire dances behind his silver eyes, reminding me of the fire his Mother exhibits. Only better, because this time, it isn’t directed at me, “Not at all. I see no reason to spare them from the fate they designed for themselves.”
“Perfect,” Tom states, squeezing my hands gently before letting me go. A look at our palms results in smeared, dried blood, but no open wounds. We share a small smile together before he turns to our witnesses, “Now, despite throwing us such a lavish wedding, I do believe I owe you both a thank you for the kindness you’ve shown my Darling wife.”
His dark chuckle is like music to my ears as he stalks his stationary prey.
*****
Walking into outstretched arms, I feel a puff of breath hitting the top of my head. Red fabric covers me, encasing me in a familiar warmth that irks me deep inside. For someone acting so eased by my presence, I can’t help but blame him for what happened. The loosening tension in his posture isn’t deserved, he isn’t the one who helped, let alone save me.
“Hope, I am so pleased to see you back in the castle,” Dumbledore lilts as he hugs me tightly, my arms begrudgingly wrapping around his robust frame. “The Malfoys truly are going where they deserve. Thank goodness Abraxas reached me when he did, though I must say I am happy that Armond and Hazel were so outmatched dueling you three.”
The tone he uses makes me sure that he’s more than aware that Abraxas’ parents sustained their injuries outside of a fight, but far be it from me to implicate my new husband within hours of the ceremony. Especially for those asswipes, no I was perfectly content watching Tom torture my captors. Not even their son lifted a finger on their behalf, although I guess he’s as much a victim as I was.
So, when Tom permanently disfigured Hazel’s face, chopping her off in uneven lengths, and following it all up with various curses I’ve yet to learn that had to witch howling in pain. As for Mr. Malfoy, he was forced to watch his wife, anticipating his own pain through every moment, until his mind was eventually breached. What exactly my husband did in there is a mystery, but based on the screaming that resulted in an absent stare with drool coming from his mouth, I imagine a lot renovations were done.
Once I’m released, I half smile at the man who is ensuring the influential members of high society live the rest of their days behind bars, “Thank you, without Tom, both Abraxas and I would be trapped together.”
“Something I was more than happy to interfere with,” my husband chimes in, sporting a pleasant grin.
“Yes, I imagine so,” Dumbledore says before laughing boisterously. “However, despite your nuptials, Hogwarts is unable to provide accommodations fit for a married couple. Surely, while at school, you two will be fine staying in your usual quarters?”
Of course that’s what the old bastard would be worried about. I hear Tom say, but again his lips don’t move.
The words make his smile seem even more fake to me, but I keep quiet as he responds, “Of course, Sir. As long as my wife is safe, I have no qualms with staying separately.”
Why can I hear you? I ask inside my head, watching my husband as I return to his side.
His head whips to look at me with wide, unblinking eyes. But quickly his features smooth, turning back to watch our Professor as he tells us both, “Hope will be more than safe. Measures are being put in place to protect the elves and all other members of Hogwarts. This will not repeat, I have ensured as such.”
Right. I hear the sarcasm internally before the polite externally, “I appreciate your efforts, Professor. However, it has been a long day. Would it be possible for us to go greet our friends? I’m confident more are anxious to see Hope well and within these walls.”
“You are very right, Tom,” Dumbledore says, turning oddly serious for a moment as he peers over his half moon glasses directly into my husband’s eyes. “That being said, if any harm comes to my niece, I will not hesitate to act as swiftly and totally as I have with the Malfoys. Do remember that.”
A smile that feels like a grimace is his response, and I quickly thank Dumbledore while dragging Tom out into the hall. While listening to these two subtly threatening each other would be entertaining, I would like to see my friends again. Specifically Anthony and Dopney, both of which will be staying in the medical wing until Madame Smethwyck lets them go. While I’ve been told that both are doing fine, Dobby had administered the antidote to the wizard and freed the elf from her restraints before coming back to protect us.
Abraxas has assured me that he will free Dobby the second everything is signed over to him officially. Whether he decides to continue working for the Malfoy family or coming to work at Hogwarts is a problem for later, something that will be decided by Dobby and no one else. Personally, I’m going to buy enough socks to last the elf a decade, regardless of the garment used to actually free him.
Once safely in the hall and out of Dumbledore’s sight, Tom places my hand in his arm, leading me towards the hospital wing while thinking. This must be a result of the soul bond. I must admit, living your life through your perspective was the extent I imagined. Yet, I believe I will enjoy having you in my head.
A loving expression takes over his face as he looks at me, making my cheeks heat as I worry my bottom lip. Various people pass us on the way, doing double takes as they see the kidnapped witch back within the walls without much pomp. From what I understand, the castle went more or less on lockdown in my absence, which was only lifted once Dumbledore was called to the Manor. Dippet announced the updates to those still on the grounds; technically, we’re all on Easter Break or whatever.
All that really means is the halls are less crowded and a formal announcement will be made once everyone comes back. None of my friends left this time, everyone was too worried about the disappearances. Apparently, the Daily Prophet has been sniffing around, looking for gossip to publish. The headmaster and professors will handle it, I don’t really care much about tabloids. What they put out may have caused a big stink in the Harry Potter series, will likely still shake up the gossip mill, but I simply do not care at the moment. Being kidnapped will do that to a person.
Thank you, by the way, for saving me. I think while pouring every ounce of earnestness I can into my expression. It was horrible, but I would go through every second of it again for everything to turn out the way it did.
No one will harm you again. I hated not knowing what was happening within those walls, I was only able to free Abraxas from the curse late last night when Deek and him arrived back in the castle. Any sooner and his parents would have realized something was wrong. He explains, and I can feel the intense discomfort he must be reliving.
Quiet laughter moves my shoulders, and I shake my head. I could tell, real Abraxas would have looked much more scared feeling me up if he was in his right mind.
Don’t remind me. Tom grumbles internally as his smile briefly drops. I am concentrating on my relief that that is where her instructions ended, otherwise Hazel Malfoy would not still be breathing.
With that, we arrive in the wing that is saturated in the scents of my friends. The long hall filled with white is blessedly sparse of occupants, making it beyond easy to find the group of people and House Elves congregated towards the back. Tom releases me from his hold, hearing what I’d like to do in his mind.
After giving him a bright smile, I race towards my friends, “Guys! I’m back!”
Every head turns to me, and so much movement ensues. A red ball of fire shoots through the crowd, knocking the wind out of me with the force of her hug. Mary holds me like I might float away, meanwhile I’m gasping for air, and clutching her like a lifeline. Around us, our friends gather, including Anthony wearing hospital pjs. Once my brain no longer screams for oxygen, I start laughing fondly, gently unmolding her from my simple blue dress.
“I promise that I’m okay,” I tell her once we have eye contact. My heart aches when she sheds a tear, “Let me check on Anthony and Dopney, then I will tell you everything you want to know.”
“You best believe it. If you think I’m letting you out of my sight anytime soon, then you have another thing coming,” she sniffles with a stern expression.
Shrugging, I start making my way towards the cuter destination, saying hello to people and elves alike as I pass. Still in bed, looking adorably small on a mattress meant for a human, is a very cheerful Dopney eating a bowl of ice cream. Someone must have brought it to help with the aftermath of setting her entire left leg.
“How are you feeling, Gorgeous?” I ask as I gently sit beside her.
“Madames says my leg is better real soons!” she exclaims, setting her treat aside to grip my arm. I lean forward, pulling her into a side hug that she enthusiastically reciprocates, “Hows is Hope? Is yous marrieds to that awful ladys son?”
My smile is sad, hating how much she endured, all the reaction to forcing the hand of crazy people, “I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me. But, no, I married someone else.”
A collective gasp fills the room, and I feel Tom’s presence at my back. He’s followed me like a shadow, much like Mary is now doing. Both hover close by, but the visual reunion moments ago negates my fellow Ravenclaw from being a contender.
“Mr. Riddles? Yous is nows Hope Riddles?” she squeaks, her large eyes widening with hopeful glee. Grabbing my left hand, now missing the glamour hiding my ring, she looks at me with watery eyes once again. This time is so much better though, “This is bests news! Wes musts has a party ins the kitchens, I’s will makes bread puddings, and wes dance.”
Her declaration is met with laughter from many— all good hearted— but my happiness feels like it’s been built on sand, “I’m just so sorry that you had to go through so much. You didn’t deserve anything the Malfoys did, can you ever forgive us?”
Anthony stands at the end of the bed, and I turn my regretful expression towards him, “They were always going to hurt someone, whether before or after I tried to defy their wishes for my future, I just wish it had been only me. My power is what Armond and Hazel wanted so badly, I can never begin to explain how much I wish I could have stopped them.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Anthony tells me with a kind smile on his face. “Deek was very gentle, a perfect attacker really. He and I have already made up. Beyond the drowsiness from the potion, I simply feel as if I’ve had the best rest of my life.”
His flippant attitude makes me want to roll my eyes, but I only shake my head before returning my full attention to Dopney. Her smile is reassuring, but the giant white bandage across every inch of her leg keeps the guilt from releasing its hold, “I’s is okays, Miss. Thinks nothing mores on its, yous is nots my attackers. Bads do bads, but that’s whys we has the Riddles!”
More laughter ensues, and I let out a small breath. My friends are too good to be in my life, yet I can’t seem to push them away. Being upset with me may not make the situation better, but it would make sense. In a similar vein, I guess I should be pissed at Tom for knowing something of this nature was likely and not telling me. But, I knew I was in danger from Purebloods, if my own poisoning wasn’t enough of a hint.
Next, my eyes land on Abraxas, the person who spent the majority of three days completely under the control of his Father’s magic. Not to mention the fact that the Imperius Curse laid dormant in his head since the day Tom woke up from absorbing his Horcruxes. Our gazes meet, and we nod simultaneously in understanding; he and I will talk later about what we both went through.