"Hermione!" Ron called again. His voice was frantic — betrayed.

Bill gripped his shoulder with one hand. His other clutching George.

It was quiet. Just the wind in her ears.

With a wave of her hand, the gates of Malfoy Manor began to close on them.

Someone screamed her name, but she was already walking down the gravel path.

Returning home.

Chapter End Notes

Trigger Warning: Involuntary institutionalization, character death.

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Chapter 39

Chapter Notes

Good news and bad news (of a sort). This chapter was turning into a monster, so we made the decision to split it. NO ONE is more upset by this new than me -- the author of TRTTD which ended on 36 chapters instead of 35 (35,000 Galleons anyone?). I fought Raven so many times to keep this thing to 40 chapters, but in the end, I was my own worst enemy.

The rest of the good news? YOU GET ANOTHER CHAPTER NEXT WEEK! We'll do our best to put out Chapter 40 on Nov 29, and still publish 41 (final chapter) on Dec 6.

See end notes for lots of amazing art! Much love to my cat and my duck.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Stepping through the Manor doors and into the entryway was like slipping into a familiar dream. The chandelier glittered, reflecting light onto the pale marble and high arches. The stairs beckoned her up, where she could crawl beneath the covers and wait for the nightmare to end.

A distant boom pierced Hermione's eardrums, and she slammed the door with a jolt. She sagged against it, struggling to think.

Lucius was dead. George had killed him. Lucius was dead, and the True Order was trying to enter the Manor to kill Narcissa, and she had to find her and make sure she was safe.

Breathing deep, Hermione locked her shelves into place.

"Narcissa?" she called out. "Mippy?"

She moved swiftly down the hall, her wand drawn as she twisted around corners and peered into dark rooms. Narcissa's office was empty — her letters scattered, her bookshelves overturned. The master bedroom looked empty. Hermione stepped through the broken lamps and strewn clothing, but found no one in the bathroom. Nothing in the Conservatory except the flowers wilting in the sunlight.

Hermione broke into a run as she headed to the library, racing down the corridor lined with marble men who looked too much like Draco. The doors were covered in slashing cuts, like someone had tried taking an ax to them to get inside, but the handles warmed beneath her touch before they gave way.

The room was empty and untouched.

Her shelves trembled as she flew to the dungeons, finding the door open and the cells unlocked. A cot lay against the stone pillar, looking freshly slept in — a small blanket folded carefully atop it.