Narcissa turned to her. "Are your parents safe?" She reached out and took Hermione's hand. "I never knew how to ask about them."

Hermione swallowed, tears pricking behind her eyes. "Yes," she managed. "They're safe. They're away."

Narcissa nodded, and turned her eyes back to Draco's soup bowl.

They stayed like that until Mippy came to announce the next course.

~*~

Before bed, Hermione found all seven Gainsworth books placed on her bedside table. She felt something like guilt when she first saw them, but she set it aside and allowed herself to get lost in the pages. She read the first before falling asleep. That night, she dreamed of her favorite story instead of her usual nightmare, where Harry or Luna slipped through her fingers and fell somewhere far beyond her reach.

She woke late the next morning. It was past nine when she finally tested, "Mippy?"

Nothing happened. She frowned.

At 9:20, a knock came from the door. She opened it to find a scowling Remmy with the breakfast tray.

"Hello."

Remmy said nothing, but sent the tray to her side table.

"Will Mrs. Malfoy be joining me today?" Hermione asked.

"Mistress is gone."

She blinked. "Oh. Gone?"

Remmy nodded, face scrunching into a tight sorrow—the most emotion Hermione had seen from the elf yet.

"Master Malfoy is hurt."

Hermione felt her blood rushing in her ears.

"Which Master Malfoy?" she asked.

Remmy frowned with watery eyes. "Master Draco."

She swallowed and looked down at her arm, expecting… something.

"Thank you, Remmy."

Remmy left the room. And Hermione stared at the closed door.

Draco was injured. And it was serious enough that Narcissa left to be with him.

She stared down at her breakfast tray, wondering what would happen to her if Draco died. Surely if he had, the tattoo would have alerted her?

A sudden, inexplicable terror seized her ribs, the pressure so overwhelming she found herself gasping for air. She screwed her eyes shut and drew on the meditation she'd been practicing until it passed.

She leaned against the bookshelves, savoring the feeling of the wood pressing into her spine, and stared out her windows.

If Draco died, would she go back to Dolohov?

She forced herself to breathe.

She tried, but failed, to find a scrap of joy that there had been some kind of victory for the rebellion. The guilt twisted heavy in her gut while she waited for news of Draco's health, watching as the sun rose higher in the sky, and began to fall again.

A chill passed through her at the realization that she was alone at Malfoy Manor for the indefinite future, wandless, with only the elves for company.

Chapter End Notes

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Chapter 11

Chapter Notes

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