Safety in your arms
Hermione awoke with a start—her body involuntarily propelling itself upwards. A sheen of sweat coated her face and the back of her neck. She quickly dropped her head into her hands as she tried to calm her ragged, panting breaths. It took Hermione a moment to get her bearings. She felt like she was sitting on a cloud—safely cocooned in a velvety soft blanket and tucked into the cushions of one of the plush couches strewn around the Beauxbatons common room. The lights were dim, but a gentle amber-golden glow pulsed across the shadows.
As if a switch had been flipped, her senses burst back to life. Her hands flew to her ears as she sought cover against the awful screeching that assaulted her eardrums—grating into her head like nails on a chalkboard. As she winced away from it, she unintentionally cast a silencing spell over the room, sending it into a sudden quiet. Pushing through the buzzing in her head, she began to scan the room in search of the culprit.
It didn’t take long for Hermione to fix her glare on the two young Beauxbatons students rushing to close one of the champions’ golden eggs. The eggs hadn’t been on display—the young boys must have found where they were hidden. The boys froze in place when they felt Hermione’s gaze on them, turning towards her with identical guilty grimaces. She tilted her head and rose her eyebrows at them, expecting them to scurry away. Hermione was surprised as the blood drained from their faces and they took on a deathly pale complexion. Quickly, the boys lowered their heads and carefully placed the egg down before scampering off towards the dorms as fast as their legs could carry them.
Before the egg touched the table, it was propelled forward, flying within inches of Hermione’s head before passing. Hermione turned slowly. The first thing she saw, was the golden egg, cradled like a football under the Veela’s arm. As her eyes roamed upward, she was met by piercing gold. Hermione realized the girl was speaking—her lips were moving but nothing came out. With a flick of her wrist, Hermione dropped the silencing spell, catching the tail end of the girl’s words.
“…horrid sound. I hope your head is alright.”
Hermione just nodded, too dizzy to do much else. The girl’s eyes flashed briefly as a smirk pulled at her lips.
“You didn’t hear a word I said did you Hermione?”
“No,” Hermione mumbled, dropping her still buzzing head back into her hands as she rotated her body to face the Veela.
She felt the air around her shift as the girl moved to sit next to her, placing the egg down to her side. The small space between their bodies seemed to pulse with electricity.
After a moment, the girl next to her seemed to deflate.
“I really am sorry for earlier,” the Veela mumbled.
Hermione didn’t respond. Instead, she reached slowly across the space between them and wove her fingers into Fleur’s gripping her tightly.
Fleur’s head shot up to look at her and Hermione only smirked. Slowly, she squeezed down on Fleur’s hand, her grip tightening almost painfully. Hermione took a deep breath before shoving her magic through her arm and into Fleur’s not gentle in the slightest. She didn’t stop when she heard Fleur gasp or when the hand clasped in hers spasmed and tightened. Fleur’s breath began to come out in short gasps as her body weight fell into Hermione’s side. Realizing she had made her point, Hermione quickly tried to pull her magic back through the physical link.
It didn’t budge. More and more power spilled into Fleur and the girl began to shake with the pressure of it. Hermione began to panic in turn, tugging her hand away from Fleur’s. The second their hands released, Hermione felt her magic surge back into her and she let out a sharp breath at the sensation. It felt excited, buzzing just beneath the surface, completely out of control. It was warm, as though it had just sat in front of the fire or had a cup of Narcissa’s hot cocoa.
She was so fixated on the feeling that she didn’t notice as Fleur’s hand gently reached out to cup her face, pulling their foreheads together.
“You are full of surprises, mon amour.” Fleur whispered.
“I just…I just wanted to show you that it didn’t hurt.” Hermione wheezed out, slowly coming down from the high that had possessed her magic.
Fleur smirked, her eyes rapidly darkening, “Oh but it did, Hermione, in the best way. The feeling of your power flowing through me is indescribable.” She husked out, leaning forward to place a delicate kiss on Hermione’s cheek, her lips as soft as a rose petal.
Hermione stuttered, frozen in place by the sensation.
Fleur’s eyes flashed before she slowly drew back, her tone full of arrogant confidence, “But you should not do that again, at least not yet. Your magic is still too unstable.” Her eyes hardened with her words.
Hermione considered replying but instead simply turned her gaze away and looked down at the floor, suddenly overwhelmed by both Fleur’s casual ferocity and her own impulsive actions.
Fleur moved around her until their eyes met once more, amber and gold. She smiled softly, reaching her hand up to brush Hermione’s hair away before slinking down to caress her cheek.
Hermione reached up to grab the Veela’s hand, holding it softly in place as she nuzzled into it.
Fleur brought their foreheads together once more, her eyes flickering down to Hermione’s lips, before leaned forward, slowly, her lips brushing the corner of Hermione’s mouth. As soon as the feeling arrived, it evaporated and Fleur pulled back, grabbing the egg and disappearing into the shadows.
“Rest, Hermione,” she said, “there will be plenty of time for everything else tomorrow.”
A part of Hermione ached to follow the Veela, highly unsatisfied with the brevity of their interactions, clawing desperately to know more, to understand why this perfectly wonderful woman had any desire to entertain Hermione in her life. A bigger part, however, was more comfortable than she had been in weeks and desperately desired to claim the brief comfort when it was offered to her. The Beauxbatons couch was more peaceful than any bed she had ever slept in and the students, for the most part, left her alone—something she had never experienced in a shared space.
Resigning herself to wait until the morning for answers, Hermione let herself settle back into the couch to sleep.
She had almost entirely succumbed to sleep when another presence entered the room. She didn’t notice as the figure glided towards her, bending down as it neared. A gentle, cool hand reached out and slid down her face, carefully brushing away the stray curly hairs that had fallen into her eyes. A soft humming filled the room with a lullaby. Hermione shifted at the contact, subconsciously leaning into it, seeking it out. The figure smiled gently down at her. After a few moments, once Hermione was asleep, the figure slowly reached their hands under her and softly lifted her from the couch. They could have cast a featherlight charm but chose to enjoy the moment in full, carrying the entire weight of the girl as they moved through the room and towards the dorms. As they approached a door, it softly opened in front of them, allowing the two to move through the doorway before it quickly closed and locked.
The Veela placed Hermione down gently on the soft mattress, maneuvering her head so that it fell on the pillows and readjusting the blanket over her. The Veela moved to step away, but Hermione reached out and latched onto her arm, her grip steady despite her sleeping state even as the Veela attempted to maneuver herself away.
Resigning herself to the girl’s wishes, the Veela moved to the bed behind her, trying to leave some space between them. But just as she settled, Hermione rolled over, pulling the girl with her by the solid grip on her arm. The Veela found herself carefully curled around Hermione, her slow, methodical breaths, a lullaby against the Veela’s chest. She took a long slow breath, breathing the girl’s sent in.
As the Veela began to relax, she felt Hermione’s magic reach out for her own, greeting it as if they were old friends, playfully like children. The Veela smiled softly, a few tears slipping down her cheeks as a silent sob left her body shaking at the sensation. Unable to hold herself back, she pulled Hermione tightly into her embrace, holding onto the girl as if she would disappear before her eyes.
In the darkness that surrounded them, a teary-eyed Isabelle Dubois held Hermione as they both drifted off into a deep sleep, the most serene either of them had ever been.
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Meanwhile, Narcissa Black sat on the cold, hard dungeon floors listening to the irregular drip of water sneaking through a crack in the ceiling. A frigid breeze rushed across the small room from the open, bar-covered window—burning her skin as it brushed across her open cuts and bruises. She bit her tongue to prevent herself from screaming out in pain.
A deep chuckle drew her attention to the small audience watching her plight, waiting patiently for the moment she would break.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, too absorbed by the pain of long cuts ripped open again and again and the blistering deep purple bruises from hours of being brutally beaten. She knew instinctively that her leg was broken, shattered from the bombarda cast at it, and that she was suffering from internal bleeding. She could barely see, her left eye sealed shut by the swelling of her broken nose and her right eye damaged from repeat blindness. Her breaths came in short gasps, likely due to the pressure of her ribs broken against her lung.
The men hadn’t stopped and yet had asked her no questions—her torment a fun game for them.
She was used to this, expected it at least once or twice a year, but it hadn’t been this bad (or prolonged) since the first time.
Even amidst the throbbing pain coursing through her body, Narcissa smiled. The one band on her arm suddenly glowing brightly, the silver light stark against her pale skin.
Her tormenter emerged from the shadows. He wore elegant black dress robes, crisp and clean. His blonde hair fell just past his shoulders and a perpetual scowl was etched into his face. He whipped out a long black stick and stuck it into her now glowing arm.
“Well, well, what is this here?” He softly tsked, “Don’t tell me, you made a vow to one of those disgusting beasts before we rescued you. What does it mean?”
Narcissa ignored his gentle inquiry, turning her head away and attempting to hide her arm from his sight. He only jabbed his wand further into her, breaking the skin.
His tone turned icy, “What is it?” he ground out, “Tell me!” he screamed.
A dark cackle emerged from behind him.
His head whipped behind him, eyes widening like saucers at the sound.
“Don’t you know better than to stick your head where it doesn’t belong?” A woman asked as she emerged from shadows, her voice calm but the undertone as hard as steel.
The man looked around frantically for his companions as two more figures emerged from the shadows. They were nearly identical, their black curly hair bouncing with each step.
“Looking for your little friends?” The one on the right asked, “Indisposed. Just as you will be.”
“You dare take her? You dare touch her?” The woman on the left seethed, her golden eyes murderous as they locked onto Narcissa’s figure. She took two terrifying steps forward, her eyes flashing, before the first woman placed a gentle yet restraining hand on her arm.
“Not yet, Bella” she whispered in an attempt to soothe the other woman, “It is not time.”
Bella paused, but vibrated like an electric wire, magic pulsing out from her in suffocating waves. The force of her magic forced the man to his knees, his body slamming against the floor as two more ferocious magical forces joined.
“You will pay,” Bella hissed at the man, “You will pay with your life for this.”
She moved as one with the woman on the right as they rushed for Narcissa. Bella pulled the frail woman into her arms and gently stroked her hair while the other woman quickly broke her chains. Together, they wordlessly began to cast healing charms, forcing their magic out to wrap protectively around their sister.
As they worked, the third woman approached the man as he trembled on the ground. She knelt before him and tilted his head up with the tip of her wand. As their eyes met, hers flashed a brilliant silver. She leaned forward until her lips brushed his ear. “No one touches my family and gets away with it” she whispered. “No one.” As she dropped his head, and turned towards the Black sisters, he let out a scream of pain. The woman smirked as her magic coiled around the man, cutting off his air supply like a snake. It wasn’t a mortal wound, but it was a start.
She strode up to Bellatrix and gripped the back of head carefully. Then, unexpectedly, she yanked their heads together until their lips met in a ferocious kiss. After a moment, Bella’s hands came up to wrap around the woman’s waist as tears began to fall from her eyes. The woman slowed and gentled the kiss, moving her hands to cradle Bella’s face. She broke the kiss and shifted to kiss away the woman’s tears.
“Soon my love,” she whispered, “Soon all will be right.” She placed one more soft kiss on Bella’s lips before she pulled back to help Andromeda (who was frantically trying to heal the more mortal wounds) move Narcissa from the cell, opening the stream of magic so that they could transport her quickly to safety.
“Where are you taking me?” Narcissa mumbled, fading quickly as she succumbed to her injuries now that the adrenaline was leaving her system.
“Home,” Sophia Adilene Claire Dubois said softly, “You’re going home.”
Sophie reached out her hand for her wife, who stood over the man’s trembling body. Reluctantly, Bellatrix took the offered hand and together they stepped into the stream, leaving the cold room behind in darkness.