The elves' bedrooms.

In the corner hung the same tapestry of the mare in the field. And below it, on a cot two sizes too small for her, Narcissa Malfoy lay curled on her side, facing the wall.

The air left Hermione's lungs.

Narcissa's hair had come loose from her chignon, her shoulders curving in on themselves. Her ribs expanded, and a breath shuddered out of her.

"Narcissa?" She crossed the room quickly, kneeling next to the cot. "It's Hermione."

There was a long pause. And then: "Is he gone?"

Her voice was small — childlike.

The silence stretched. And it felt like she'd been submerged in icy waters, rising higher over her until she could barely draw air.

Hermione's lips trembled. She felt herself splintering down the center as she reached for Narcissa's arm. A choked sound tore from Narcissa's throat, and when she turned over, Hermione broke apart.

They wept together. Hermione cradled Narcissa's head in her arms as she sobbed, tracing a hand through her hair like her own mother used to do.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

She glanced over her shoulder to look at the elves. Fat tears were rolling down Plumb's waxy cheeks. Hix had a handkerchief to his eyes. An elf smaller than Mippy had his head in his hands, and Remmy and Boppy were bawling into each other's pillowcases.

A heaviness settled over Hermione like a shroud as she turned back to Narcissa.

Lucius was dead, but the world was still spinning. She still had promises to keep.

She stroked Narcissa's hair. "It was quick. And it was what he wanted." Hermione stared at the ceiling, blinking back her tears. "He did it for you, Narcissa. I spoke to him. He made sure you were in the Manor before he died."

Narcissa let out a ragged sob. Hermione swallowed, gripping her tightly. "I need your help. I'm so sorry to ask anything from you right now, but it can't wait."

A quiet fell over the room. And with an aching slowness, Narcissa lifted her head and straightened. Her nose was red and her eyes were wet, but her face was composed.

She sniffed once and said, "Foolish man." Brushing the tears from her lashes, she fixed her tired gaze on Hermione. "What is it?"

Hermione drew a shuddering breath. "There's a mob at the gates. Lucius provoked them, and they came for you after—after his trial. But the Manor blocked everyone out except me. Do you know why?"

Narcissa shook her head, her brows knitted together. "I'm not sure what happened. I was in the dungeons. The doors burst open, and the guard was dragged up the stairs by a—a wind of sorts. The elves came for me before I could investigate."

Hermione nodded. Her mouth opened, but she hesitated at her next question.

"I felt it," said Narcissa quietly. "So did they."

Hermione dipped her chin, trying not to imagine how it must have felt. "They're still here, Narcissa. They're trying to get in." She bit her lip. "We don't know what magic is at play. We can't be certain they won't eventually break through— "