𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍-𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘖𝘛𝘛𝘌𝘙

Chapter 9

The other side of the Manor was the unexplored land. Staying close to the walls, she walked the edges, taking in the morning fog. Rounding the corner, the gazebo rose from the mists, sunlight bouncing off its elegant roof, casting patterned shadows on the grass before it. The waters shuffled on the lake, trembling as the fowl landed and bobbed.

A warming charm would be helpful about now. Hermione frowned, hoping that she'd acclimate to being non-magical soon. Then she'd remember to put on a jumper the next time she went for an angry morning stroll.

The lawns spread out for acres, and she considered how far the property went. Perhaps they had even more than this, but the Manor's grounds stopped at a certain point. She looked down at her arm, wondering at what point the estate would bar her exit. The two letters inked into her skin caught the morning light, a hint of gold shown through, just over the top of the white lettering Bellatrix had given her.

She peered back at the windows, checking the third floor for her room and finding the door to the balcony thrown wide. She counted. She was the second balcony in on the right, facing northeast according to the rising sun. Handy details, if she could ever find someone who could use them.

A short walk through the countryside. That's what it could have been, in another life. She faced the sunrise, now dappling the trees along the edges of the lawn, and began to wander.

Cutting across the grass like a lone sailboat on a lake, she headed northeast. Find the chinks in the armor. There was a faint hum of the grounds waking, birds stretching their voices wide, the hedges bowing to the sky.

It was startling to be surrounded by beauty again. Scenery had been the last thing on her mind when choosing the locations she'd dragged Harry and Ron for the last year. And yet, these grounds were clearly made to be seen. Admired. It almost felt mocking, given her circumstances. She imagined this field was quite useful for garden parties and large receptions.

Did the Malfoys even have family friends anymore? Or were they just all Death Eaters. Who did Narcissa Malfoy entertain?

She reached the edge of the rounded hedges, facing a pathway cutting down a dark lane lined with trees with delicate branches, leaning over to touch each other. A sparrow sang to her children.

It was idyllic. Too idyllic. Distractingly so. Perhaps the weakness was somewhere down this lane. It extended forever, disappearing into morning mist and the shadows of the trees.

She stepped through, feeling much like Alice in her looking glass, waiting for another world to morph before her eyes. Nothing. No tingle on her arm. She continued her walk, eager to find the end of the Malfoy property.

Something the birds sang echoed in her head, a kind of melody that sounded familiar. A few notes that strung together and reminded her of a song her mother used to sing in the mornings. She wondered if Monica Wilkins remembered that song. If some mornings she woke up humming it, trying to place a melody she'd long forgotten.

She'd never been so thankful for her foresight than her choice to Obliviate her mother and father. If she had to add her parents to her growing list of worries in this new world, it would be unbearable.

Hermione stretched her arms out wide, fingertips barely grazing the leaves on several unruly hedges on either side. Perhaps Hix was shirking his duties. Her robe opened in the wind, air rushing to meet her warm skin. She threw her head back and stared at the splatches of sky through the tree branches.

The lane ended. It opened wide into another field.

Hermione stopped, staring at the sloping hill, a childish impulse telling her to run and tumble down.