Distant thunder beats in tandem with the whimsical music of cicadas and summer birds. Clouds amass from the south and scorching sunlight beats down on the five oddly dressed travelers through the canopy of towering pine trees. Hermione pulls irritably at her jumper, beads of sweat already collecting down her spine. Malfoy makes a discernible noise if discomfort. Sera knew better than to wear a jumper and Nott dons the look of someone severely constipated.
The fifth traveler, Minerva McGonagall, is already moving forward, her flat heels sinking into the wet ground. "Keep up, please."
Sera wasn't lying when she'd mentioned humidity. On top of everything else, it recently flooded and the clouds look ready to do an about-face and drown them this time. Various puddles and gurgling rain-streams trickle off into the tree line to the east where the ground sloped down into a gradual ravine. The world is so green and glittering wet that Hermione wonders if she's stepped into a pristine image of paradise from one of her father's old calendars he used to keep in his office.
"Well this is going to be miserable. Thanks, Granger." Nott wipes irritably at his brow and follows behind McGonagall.
He can't be sweating already, Hermione pouts. Well, I am, but he can't be. She nibbles her lip. Of course he's sweating. How can people live in this kind of heat?
The power of the wards ripple and pulse over her skin as she passes through them and continues down the driveway. Sera walks a little in front of her and Malfoy, her fingers combing the braid from her hair. Up ahead, sits a picturesque Victorian house with two second floor balconies, large bay windows, a wraparound veranda and even a clichéd tower. Hermione's mouth falls open. It must be old enough to have stood during her great-grandmother's youth.
In the surrounding yard, there are bald cypress trees, several crumbling bird baths, and a blinding array of floral compositions. Iconic? Captivating? Welcomingly antique in its beauty? All understatements.
If this is a safe house, then Hermione will be having a serious talk with Shacklebolt on the poor condition of all the others she's been in.
"This home belongs to the Laveau family. They offered it to the Order for our use three years ago." McGonagall explains as they join her. "Now that Louis Laveau has passed, Delia Laveau is the sole inheritor of this property. She resides in an apartment in New Orleans and is currently seeing to the final paperwork concerning her brother's funeral and their family inheritance."
Sera sighs gloomily from beside Malfoy and Hermione looks over to her. She'd wanted to attend Louis' funeral two days prior even if they didn't have a body to bury in his family mausoleum, but the Order forbid it. A stab of guilt radiates through Hermione's chest and she grips Malfoy's leash into a fist which she places over her heart. Her other hand clasps the hilt of her wand. Everywhere she goes, she brings misfortune. Doesn't she?
"Is Delia aware that we are here? Will she be moving back now?" Sera asks, bringing Hermione back to the conversation.
McGonagall shakes her head. "No. She is not aware of this arrangement and she will not be coming back here. The Order has requested her service. You'll be staying—"
"But she's only fifteen!" Sera blurts out indignantly. "Louis joined this war to keep her out of it!"
McGonagall's sighs sadly. "Yes, Miss Natani. She is no more than a child, like yourself, but war cares not for age."
"But she—"
"When Senior Commander Shacklebolt asked her, she eagerly accepted."
"Because she's angry about Louis' death! Because she's hurt and wants revenge! She's foolish and young and—"
"All those things are true." McGonagall keeps her voice soothing. "It is also true that we are at war... and war is unforgiving."
Sera is quiet, but angry tears gather in her eyes. They glint in the sunlight and shiver as she attempts to hold them back. The guilt in Hermione's chest spreads like a cancer throughout her body, weighing her down, suffocating her.
"As I was stating earlier, you will be staying with a family we've had relocated here." McGonagall says.
As they approach the house, the door opens and a woman steps out onto the veranda, long hair the color of burnt umber laced with grey and a fair face sharpened by age, but her expression is markedly kind. She looks so much like... As Hermione moves closer, recognition slams into her like a freight train and she halts mid-step, her chest caving. Behind the woman, a young boy barrels out the door and past the group laughing impishly, his tousled hair the richest shade of turquoise.
"Andromeda?" Hermione chokes out. "Teddy?"
"The plot thickens." Nott smirks.
Rage, as blinding and as decimating as a nuclear blast envelops Hermione. "What is this?" Her voice is guttural, her bones practically vibrating with untapped fury. "Why did you bring us here... of all places?"
McGonagall opens her mouth to speak, but Hermione is unable to control herself, the fingers of her wand hand tingling, begging to cast.
"The Order promised to allow Andromeda to raise Tonks' and Remus' son away from the war! Shacklebolt promised this! You promised this! No one is supposed to know their location and you bring us here! Both Nott and I—the two most wanted people by You-Know-Who himself! This is foolish! Why would you do this?"
Nott makes a dissenting noise and Malfoy shifts aggressively, likely unsure of the hostility building around Hermione. Sera looks as if she's about to speak, gaze cautious, but McGonagall raises her hand in one sharp movement.
"Enough!" Her eyes are flashing, hardening into emerald. "As it stands, you are no longer a Phoenix! In the past, you have endangered members and cost lives! You've become too volatile! You used one of our highest ranking spies to infiltrate You-Know-Who's stronghold and attain that book. You did that, but now he is as much a liability as an asset. I have defended you, Miss Granger! I have stood up for you on countless occasions! Your choices are what have brought you here! Your own! Your recent antics have cost the Order three of its spies in the last month, including Mr. Nott!" She waves her hand to him angrily, but her voice softens. "Thankfully, he still has his life."
Hermione's body is trembling, tears lodging in her throat. She can't seem to control them. They waver over her eyes and she swallows thickly, trying to force them back down into her gut. Her heartbeat thunders in her ears. Count, Hermione. Count. "I had to do this. It was the only—"
"I'm not blaming you for saving Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger. Nor, am I blaming you for the great burden you've undertaken." Her lips part as if she means to say something, something that can ease the raw burn of this war, but her eyes flicker and she is cold emerald again. "We each have our place. No one, Miss Granger, has forgotten that you are the main reason we've made it this far. You and Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. No one is diminishing your suffering, but suffering is for after the war. We must do what is required of us until then. Especially you."
"Are we through with the comforting session?" Nott mutters.
"Fucking prick." Sera murmurs, but all of them hear her and she glares off into the tree line where Teddy is giggling and chasing after dragonflies.
McGonagall clears her throat before Nott can respond. "You're being placed here because this safe house is the most well-kept secret of the Order. Per your request, Miss Granger. The only members who know of Ms. Black's residence here are myself, Shacklebolt, a trusted member of our United States branch, and the late Louis Laveau. Not even Delia Laveau is aware of this and it will remain that way until we deem the information safe with her."
Sera's glare shoots to McGonagall instantly. "And her eagerly volunteering to join the fray only further benefits this little kept secret, right?"
"You know as well as I do, Miss Natani, that not knowing can be far healthier than knowing." Something passes over the woman's face and Sera bites into the side of her mouth, her full lips thinning to a grave line.
Secrets are abound in this war, Hermione's learned. She watches them as the silence stretches and she feels her own thoughts building like a storm. The last several months had been easier. Her concentration remained on finding that book and gathering intel. Much easier. No long spaces of sitting still, wondering. No memories to harass her, to remind her. Even Nott didn't know of all her movements. He only bothered with the ones that mattered.
"Is this my nephew?" a new voice drifts down from the stairs of the veranda. Andromeda stands with her hands at her sides, her intuitive stare fixated on Malfoy. Some wisps of hair have come lose and are dancing around her face.
Hermione fidgets uncomfortably and Malfoy's shoulders stiffen, his body thrumming with anticipation. She glances at his face and finds him glaring wide-eyed at the stairs. He won't look any of them in the face, but he will watch their feet and gauge their movements. He will attack if necessary. She can feel the instinct radiating off of him. Her hand grips at the leash.
This must be such a traumatic shift for him, going from the chaos of the pits to the calm of civility... mostly. His left brow draws down and his right cheek puckers in a familiar scowl.
McGonagall turns to Andromeda and steps aside. "Kingsley briefed you on this, Andromeda." Her tone is much more informal, more personal.
"He did." She whispers as she takes the last two steps down to the grass. "He also informed me that my nephew is without magic."
Andromeda is careful not to use Malfoy's given name. There's also a wall in her eyes, a shield, as she surveys him. If she's at all relieved to finally meet her sister's son, she doesn't show it, but Hermione can sense no bitterness in her, either. Only that wall.
The silence drags again and Hermione feels Malfoy lean to the side a little, his shoulder brushing hers. Teddy's distant laughter echoes across the yard and everyone looks over at him. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione can see Malfoy's face shift toward her and her eyes flit to him. His lips are parted, lashes pale in the golden sunlight and she is suddenly aware of his desire to meet her gaze.
She exhales, perhaps a bit too loudly, and everyone focuses on them. Her cheeks flush at the realization of just how close he stands to her and just how tall he really is. This is the first time she's seen him at his full height, back pulled straight and shoulders almost proud... but not quite. She is reminded of that day he screamed, of her bursting through the door and finding him glistening and naked with wide animal eyes.
She shakes her head and looks away from him to find them staring at her. Clearing her throat, she drops her hand holding the leash, not realizing that it's over her heart again. "Face forward, Malfoy."
The command is an empty one, made mostly for the sake of diverting attention, but he cannot disobey. With a sharp exhale, he turns away from her and glowers at Andromeda's feet which are hidden under the thin folds of her dress. The dress isn't made for summer, its leg length much too long, but the material is most definitely linen. It's a delightful shade of green, bringing out the warmth of her skin.
"I've been told you carry very few belongings." Andromeda nods to the rucksacks on their backs.
Each traveler, save Malfoy and McGonagall, carry a rucksack bewitched with an Extension Charm. Hermione's holds all her books, potions for both Malfoy and herself, her dagger, what few belongings she still has from her years at Hogwarts and Harry's Invisibility Cloak. How she'd come back that cloak had been chance, she always believed. During her time with Riddle, she'd been sure to have Luna stow it away, to keep it secret and safe. Is that what each of them are now? Secret? Safe?
She doubts it.
"Not to worry." Andromeda continues. "I've taken the liberty of purchasing each of you four sets of clothes. I hope you don't mind. I asked for your specific sizes, so they should fit."
Nott rolls his eyes as both Hermione and Sera verbally thank her. McGonagall gives Nott a sour look of disapproval but says nothing. Malfoy brushes Hermione's shoulder again. She keeps her attention on Andromeda.
"Come inside." Andromeda begins back up the steps and looks to her grandson. "Come inside now, Teddy! You can play with the dragonflies later!"
They all hear his sound of disappointment from across the yard, but he harkens to her, his grin radiant and young. As he reaches the veranda, he doesn't take the stairs and instead hoists himself over the railing, tearing his shirt and huffing as he falls on his knees. Andromeda opens her mouth in shock, but he is already up on his feet, knees scratched pink and raucous laughter bellowing from his lungs. Something large and dark bolts out from under a nearby chair and Teddy hurries after it, but it's through the door—which Andromeda conveniently left open—before he can catch it.
"Teddy! Teddy Lupin! You calm down this instant!"
He grins at her from beyond the door and waggles his tongue. The mischievous glint in his eyes suggests to Hermione that he could be considering slamming the door and locking them out. Her suspicions are confirmed when he swings the door hard, but Andromeda hurries over and snatches the doorknob. His roguish expression falters and he stares up at her innocently, his upper lip jutting out and his chin tucking into his chest.
"Don't even try it, you little rascal." Her look is stern, but most of the hard edge is gone from her voice. "Now, go on to your room until I call you. We have business to attend to."
He pouts and Hermione can't resist a smile. He is beyond precious. "But I want to—"
"Teddy. Upstairs. Now."
He jabs his tongue at his cheek and disappears beyond the door. After a nod, Andromeda turns to them and waves them on. They file in, McGonagall first and Nott last. The entrance hall is wide with plenty of light spilling in from the stained-glass design of the door. An ancient grandfather clock stands sentinel to the right and a wall mirror spans along the left wall. There are plenty of other vintage knickknacks and floral vases.
Plenty of things for Teddy to break, Hermione thinks to herself and the corners of her lips twitch.
Andromeda leads them into the parlor where a very severe-looking man is waiting. Though there are plenty of places to sit, he is standing, arms folded perfectly behind his back at the base of his spine, his lips puckered in a strange sneer-frown and his thick brows shadowing deep-set eyes. He wears a military uniform adorned with medals.
McGonagall wastes no time. "Retired Sergeant Major Savage."
He bends his head in greeting and assesses the rest of them, his gaze momentarily lingering on Malfoy and the collar around his neck. He follows the leash to Hermione's hand, which is hanging limply at her side despite her desire to place it over her heart for the umpteenth time.
"I take it they've been briefed on the rules here." His voice is somehow gruff and smooth at the same time, like the rolling sigh of an old guard dog. "Time ain't one of my commodities."
"Of course, sir." McGonagall replies as she points to the couches for them to sit. Everyone complies. Everyone but Savage.
He looks directly at Hermione. "I'll be your American connection here. Anything you need with your mission that your people can't provide, you talk to me. Contact me via raven."
The Order aren't exactly my people anymore, she wants to say, but she doesn't. She just nods. She's also heard about the use of ravens here instead of owls. As if on cue, a large black silhouette swoops into the room and lands on the lamp beside him.
"This is Whiskey. He'll remain here with you and deliver any messages you have for me."
Hermione holds back a grimace at the name, finding it rather trite. Naming the bird Whiskey is like saying the sky is filled with stars at night. It's painfully hackneyed. By the look of this man, she wouldn't be surprised if he drank often. Then again, each person copes with war on their own terms, don't they? And he looks as if he's seen more than a few.
"I am the only American member of the Order aware of this arrangement and it will remain that way." He looks to McGonagall. "Don't worry with all the red tape. I've taken care of it."
"We are in your debt." McGonagall gives a small smile.
He shakes his head. "This is my debt repaid." A secret understanding passes between them, her smile broadening and his eyes flickering. Then, it's gone... like a phantom in the mist.
He turns to Hermione one final time. "Everything is riding on you. Don't fail." It's spoken cruelly, but she can sense the underlying desperation in his tone. When she meets his eyes, she sees a strange understanding in them.
"I will accompany you out." McGonagall says and gives Hermione's shoulder a lingering squeeze before both are gone, leaving the other occupants in silence.
There is a shattering crack of apparation and Hermione jerks, startled. Malfoy glares at her shoes and Nott stands up to stretch, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. Sera stares curiously at Whiskey and Andromeda adjusts a picture on the table adjacent to her. It's a moving image of Tonks holding a newly born Teddy. Hermione looks away before her emotions spike again. She needs sleep. Sleep and a good long hot—
"A shower would be nice." Nott drones in the stillness.
"Yes." Hermione sighs unconsciously and blushes at her tone.
Nott cocks an eyebrow at her.
"Ah," Andromeda rises to her feet, happy to focus on something else. "Each of your rooms are upstairs. Please follow me."
If possible, the second floor is as grand as the first, with an open walkway that splits off into two opposite corridors. To the left, the angling corridor's design reminds Hermione oddly of a funhouse, dipping lower with each segmented archway. The right corridor looks much the same. There's even a Juliet balcony at the very center of the walkway that overlooks the entrance hall.
"Your bedrooms are down the left hall. Mine and Teddy's are on the right." Andromeda explains. "You will have to pair up and share bathrooms, because there are only two."
When she opens the door to the first bedroom, Hermione understands. They are divided into pairs, two rooms connected by a single master bathroom.
Nott huffs from behind them. "I'm not sharing with Malfoy." His voice is far too harsh.
Andromeda turns to him, ready to object. "It would be inappro—"
"I'm not sharing with Malfoy." He repeats, his tone acidic.
"I'm sure we can handle this." Sera pipes up. "We're all mature adults. If Nott doesn't want to share with Malfoy, then I'll share with him. Besides, it's probably best for Malfoy to stay close to Hermione since..." she trails off and motions to his collar.
By the look on Sera's face, she isn't too keen on sharing a bathroom with Nott herself, but Andromeda is much less convinced. "This is currently my house and I believe in tradition—"
"Then have your tradition and I'll have Malfoy hexed to hell." Nott growls. "I said I won't share with him. Take it as you like."
"Why do you have to be so difficult?" Hermione groans.
"Look," Sera interjects. "I said I'd share. It's fine." She turns to Andromeda. "I respect Ms. Black that this is currently your home. We don't need to fight. I'd just like to get some rest for now."
Andromeda glares at Nott for a long time before giving in. "Very well, but I'm not comfortable with this."
"No one is." Nott snaps. "Which room is mine?"
Andromeda points to the neighboring door. Nott doesn't give so much as a nod of thanks before he wrenches it open and slams it shut behind him, vibrating the wall and its pictures. Everyone is quiet as they glare at his exit. Hermione is sure that, when Nott decides to take his vengeance out on her for all this mess, it's going to be dismal.
"I'll have Malfoy's clothes moved so you can set up your things, Miss Natani."
"You can call me Sera." She grins tiredly. "Calling me 'Miss Natani' sounds too weird. No offense, I mean."
Much of the tightness leaves Andromeda's face. "Of course. Is Sera your full name?"
"No, but it's what I go by."
"Fair enough."
They enter into the bedroom that is now Malfoy's. The curtains are drawn back, allowing every bit of sunlight in. The plain white of the walls makes the room almost too bright. A four-poster bed, an antique sewing machine and a 19th Century Armoire take up less than half of the room's space. To the right are a set of double doors that lead to the bathroom Hermione will be sharing with him. Joy, she mutters inwardly.
Andromeda draws her wand and summons the clothes she'd purchased for Sera. They float in the air for a moment before Sera takes them with a nod of thanks and disappears out of the room. Seconds later, there is a soft click from her door closing.
Hermione fidgets. Malfoy glares at her feet again. She counts.
"I... I'm not sure how to..." Andromeda licks her lips. "I'm not sure if I can do this."
Hermione understands. It's Malfoy—seeing him alive. Ostracized or not, Andromeda is his blood. He is her nephew, the son of her sister. It doesn't matter if that sister cast her out. Blood is blood.
"This is the first time you've ever seen him?" Hermione whispers.
"Yes." The answer trembles out of her lips and she refuses to look at either of them.
"I wouldn't have come here." Hermione declares hotly.
"I know that." Andromeda tries to smile, but fails. "I told Shacklebolt that I wanted you here, even before I learned about my nephew. To be honest, I can't decide whether I'm glad he's alive or not. I'm sure that sounds heartless."
Hermione shakes her head. "I get it. At least, I think I do. I'm not much sure of anything these days."
She hums in agreement. "You're far too young for war. All of you are."
"You're glad he's alive." Hermione ignores her comment. "You just don't know how to take it all in, like me, I suppose. You're not heartless. You just have a stormy history. He's still your family."
She nods, though her expression is guarded. "How did you find him?"
Malfoy's eyes move up to Hermione's stomach but no farther.
"He was fighting in a slave pit. I'm not sure why I saved him." She takes a breath. "I just... couldn't leave him there. The past didn't matter to me then. It doesn't now, I think. It seems so long ago, really."
She seems satisfied with Hermione's answer and makes to leave. "Dinner will be downstairs in a couple of hours if you and the others are hungry. I'll tell Sera, as well."
She's leaving telling Nott up to one of them.
"Thank you." Hermione murmurs.
Andromeda appears a moment later with Malfoy's new clothes and then is gone. Hermione folds them on the bed and indicates for Malfoy to sit beside them. They are all dark shades of charcoal, green, and navy. No black. Hermione thinks this is deliberate on Andromeda's part. Not only for the symbolic sense, but also for the glaring fact that Malfoy wore nothing but black in his past. That Malfoy is gone.
"These look nice." She says.
Malfoy growls.
"You have as much personality as a wet mop." She mutters. "Stop that."
He complies, but she notices the tension in his jaw. And is he... grinding his teeth? She kneels down, a little nervous, but trying something new. The angle allows her to look up into his face and her hand brushes his knee. The contact causes his shoulders to flinch, but he doesn't move, his eyes glued to the floor between his feet.
"You're in there, Malfoy. I know it."
He doesn't react, but she waits. His hands lay limp at his sides, palms facing the ceiling, and she sees the Slave Mark in his right one. The skin is risen and red at the edges. Without thinking, she brings her hand up, allowing her fingertips to touch it. A strange electricity tingles up her wrist and Malfoy emits a guttural moan, his eyes widening and his lips peeling back in a grimace. The mark looks more like an ugly brand. She touches it again, this time fully clasping his hand.
The itching at her throat is back with a vengeance and her breath hitches with a cough. This is connected to him, she now understands. Somehow, this feeling is his. He wants... She searches for his eyes, but they refuse to meet hers.
"Look me in the eye, Draco Malfoy."
His chin raises from his chest, as if being pulled by an invisible hand, and his gaze crawls up her body, his lashes fluttering, his cheeks red. A ragged gasp tears from his lips as he reaches her chin and he falters, the instinct to look away nearly overpowering her command.
"Look at me, Malfoy."
He blinks, his teeth clinking and his mouth moving over alien words. Incoherent silence. Then, as if by the proverbial crack of lightning, his tornado of grey crashes into her with a snap. His pupils are blown wide, the silver of his eyes practically singing. There is rage, desperation, anger... and the barest hint of conceit.
She gasps, stunned by the ferocity of his gaze. She utters his name, but it's so soft she scarcely hears it.
A sigh grates through his teeth and he works his mouth to speak, this time looking at her with focused intent. The prickling in her throat travels up over her tongue and she nearly gags. He exhales again, the puff of moist air ghosting over her face. Her heart gallops in her chest and she clasps his hand tighter. He's trying. He's there. Malfoy is there, in his eyes. She can see him. But...
As if a switch is flipped, the light in his gaze snuffs out and his eyes drift back down, chin lulling and shoulders slackening. Again...
"No!" she bites angrily, her fingers curling around his hand. "No! Malfoy. Look at me. Look me in the eye! Say what you wanted to say! Malfoy!"
He obeys her only as far as her nose, but no farther. His lips are sealed and the redness in his cheeks fades.