Dark, Twisted and Time Turned

Chapter 13: Examination

(*Warning: minor language.)

She was pacing at the entrance of the ministry waiting. She'd give him a half hour before she gave up, and it was getting far to close to that mark for her comfort. She was entirely, utterly, without a doubt, dependant on his arrival. Her sanity, her magical core. This appointment was increasing in price the longer she waits, and she was nearly out of money as it was. Soon it would reach the point where she would be unable to pay.

She glanced towards the front entrance repeatedly. She was one of very few people in the atrium at the moment, and anyone happening to pass through gave her odd looks. She supposed she must look rather frazzled. In twenty minutes passing, she collapses on a bench, her legs utterly exhausted from pacing, head in her hands in defeat. He wasn't coming.

She should have expected it. He likely couldn't even get in if he tried, without any paperwork, due to heightened security. She bites her tongue. It's not his fault. But the risk of whatever is disrupting her core, the amount of contamination she hacked up every morning, it was still there. All the voices, chanting their desires for death, still there, waiting for her mind's weakness.

She begins to cry quietly, soft sobs wracking her shoulders as the hopelessness washes over her. She never should have left her time, should have let herself be taken by the ministry, should have let herself pay for her crimes. This, this entire decision was foolish, to come here, thinking she could restart her life in a world being torn down by dark magic. She was being torn apart by it. Someone is on their knees in front of her, and her head jerks up as their thumb wipes away a tear.

"Hey now, it's alright. Let's clean all this up, and then we'll go, ok?" She chokes back more tears, taking in the white headed boy in front of her. He looked watery through her tears, and she vanishes them away. "I'm sorry I'm so late. I needed some verification for my visit, and of course, a Malfoy can't just appear at the Ministry in casual dress." She laughs.

"Of course, how could I forget. Thank you for coming," her thumb coasts along the back of his hand as they stand. "Examination wing. We should hurry." She tells him, and although he looks curious he thankfully doesn't ask any questions before walking briskly in the direction she originally came. She jogs to keep up, taking the time to examine him. His hair was combed back neatly, although a few stray strands of hair fell into his face. The length was not nearly enough for a braid, but it still had enough to hang by his ears handsomely.

He had a long, black suit jacket on, one that ended just above his knees, over dark green shirt tucked into black trousers. He was, without a doubt, easily displaying the immense wealth of the Malfoy family. The hand holding hers bore a rather large silver ring, with the crest of the family on it's face. He glances over to her and sees her staring, giving her a smirk before turning away. She flushes red.

"You know, Hermione, the amount of times I've caught you looking at me like that is surprising. You really do enjoy looking at me- who could blame you, of course- but much more so when I'm dressed up. I'll have to do it more often." Her face flames hot at his words. "We're here. I'll sign your papers, but I'd like to know what's going on, Mione. How severe is all this that you've come to the ministry of all places?"

"You can come into the room with me. I- I think it's too much for me to try to explain." Abraxas nods, and they push their way through the doors. She could still smell the ozone and sulphur, she could still smell the darkness. They pass a room with heavy wards, a glance through the little window revealing several bottles worth of black substances. When they reach the waiting room, the woman from before is already there, waiting.

"Oh, Miss Granger, you've returned. Let me take you back to Doctor Eagge." As Abraxas passes the coffee table, she hears him snort a laugh, before lighting one of the newspapers on fire. She could guess which one.