I
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound. The sharp sting of the frigid London air was a shock to her system. A few more minutes and it would all be over. She’d be warm again. Back in front of the fire. Fuzzy socks on.
A dark figure exited the flat. He pulled his robes tighter around his neck to ward off the chill. He extended his wand hand toward the door, and she saw his sleeve roll down. The mark was unmistakable beneath the glow of the street lamp.
She stepped away from her concealed spot along the brick alleyway.
“Vipera aureus.”
***
It was an easy way to distract herself. The children all rushing by in an explosion of endorphins was intoxicating. She’d watch them throw back their heads and laugh gleefully as the ride took them in another spin. It was hard not to be envious. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed like that. Perhaps it was something Fred or George did. Maybe Ginny.
She tore another bite from her sugary churro and adjusted her cap. It was a sunny afternoon in Paris. The park was crowded today. Various bubble machines and balloons interrupted her walking path, but she didn’t mind the chaos of it. It was one of the few places where she could lose herself. A sublime distraction. They were becoming increasingly rare. She found herself wandering to the exact location she always did while she was here, La Tanière du Dragon.
She liked to imagine that if she could ever conjure a patronus again, it would take the shape of a dragon like this. It would wrap her in its protective grasp and shield her with its great wings. Fire would explode from it and eviscerate all her lingering sadness. The days of the playful otter were gone. That girl was gone.
She stared at the animatronic dragon as it reared its head and snarled at the onlookers. The muggles around loosed gleeful shrieks as they marveled at her. What a surprise it would be to them to know dragons existed. What would they think if they walked down here to find a Hungarian Horntail in her place?
Flashes of Harry in his fourth year scattered across her brain. The golden egg. Viktor. Cedric.
She exhaled and emerged from the castle. Not even Disneyland Paris was keeping the memories away today.
***
“You’re chipper today,” Nott commented.
She glared at him but continued studying the vial he placed before her. She fell into her familiar transfiguration when out in the wizarding community. Her hair was past her shoulders and an unremarkable shade of blonde that fell straight down her back. Her eyes were a glittering blue, like the Greek isles she’d visited as a child. Nott flirtatiously commented on several occasions that he’d like to swim in them.
Her features were more angular, sharper than they were naturally. It fit her new persona. Hermione was a ghost in the wizarding world now. It had been over a year since anyone had seen or heard from her. There were only a few safe places she’d allow herself to drop the protective wards of her new physique. It was better this way. Her circle of trust had been severely compromised.
“It’s not as potent as the last drought,” she said as she twirled the vial in her fingertips.
Her long, almond-shaped nails were painted black and contrasted against the light pink hues of Nott's potion.
“Have you tried to find a cockatrice lately? In this economy?”
She gave him a pointed stare.
“I’ve ordered seven more,” he sighed. “They’ll be here by next weekend at the earliest.”
She deposited the velvet bag into his hand. He studied the weight of it but didn’t open it. They had a system of trust between the two of them. They had for months now.
“Are you safe?”
A question he always ended their meetings with. A question she always refused to answer.