Chapters 201-210

Angels and Other Creatures

Hermione said goodbye to Lois and decided that she still had enough time to nip into the big Waterstones at Piccadilly Circus before making her way to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, from where she could safely Apparate to Hogwarts.

In the shop she’d intended to while away her time in front of the shelves with the latest romance novels, distracting herself from grim reality with the blurbs of insipid bodice-rippers.

But soon she found herself sidetracked to a corner she’d rarely even noticed during her increasingly irregular visits in the last few years: self-help books.

Everything from A like ‘Amen—Praying is Healing’ to Z like ‘The Deep Peace of Zen’.

And then: ‘Grief: Your New Beginning’.

Hermione snorted. How could grief equal a new beginning? Except as the beginning of life without Draco. And who’d have thought that she’d ever regret having to live without Draco Malfoy underfoot!

As far as she could see, the only silver lining this week was that Draco’s death and funeral had kept Severus from suspecting that anything was off concerning his ‘acquisition’ of the Ownership of the Elder Wand by beating Percy Weasley at chess.

Her fingers drifted over the shiny, colourful spines of the paperbacks arrayed in front of her, so different from the leather bound tomes of the wizarding world.

‘Angels of Grace.’

She hesitated. Angels…She remembered faces almost lost in the twilight of a cathedral—half sad, half smiling. And stony wings, jutting straight from the shoulders of the statues. In real life, those wings would never support a body in the air. Not even with magic.

But angels…

Hermione sank down on her heels, the book clasped tightly. She recalled the comfort of her mother’s voice, whispering a child’s evening prayer, an almost faded childhood memory:

Angels bless and angels keep

Angels guard me while I sleep

Bless my heart and bless my home

Bless my spirit as I roam

Guide and guard me through the night

and wake me with the morning’s light.

She leafed through the book. So many angels: an angel of love, an angel of safekeeping, even an angel of risk. How she needed an angel now! And Severus even more…Hermione closed her eyes, trying to banish thoughts of the Sempiternal Solution, the Death Chamber and the Veil.

Her world had ghouls, gnomes and goblins. And many winged creatures, too: pixies, fairies, hippogriffs, pegasi and thestrals, to name but a few.

But no angels.

And if Severus was right with his suspicions, angels and everything associated with them brought no comfort and no blessing to her world, but instead dread, death and torture.

She shuddered and thrust the book so quickly back onto the shelf that one of her wands slipped from its sheath inside her sleeve and fell clattering to the ground. She cursed under her breath and hastily retrieved it, looking around in panic as she straightened up and almost collided with a man who’d somehow approached unnoticed.

He gave her a strange smile. ‘I usually keep the chopsticks, too, when we go for Chinese food. I always plan to practice using them. But somehow I never do.’

Hermione’s cheeks were burning. ‘Oh—err—well, I—I do that, too—keep them, that is—obviously. Umm…I guess practice makes perfect.’ She awkwardly cleared her throat.

The man regarded her thoughtfully through heavily lidded, cold grey eyes. He was dressed in black, with a tight white collar, a style almost as severe as her husband’s.

‘An interesting book,’ he said, nodding at the paperback Hermione had just put back. ‘Few people believe in angels anymore. Though they should, they should. For angels wield the wrath of the Lord and they lead the repenting sinners to the gates of the kingdom of God and into the fold of the heavenly veil.’

Hermione shivered under the man’s icy gaze. ‘Yes. Uh. My mother prayed with me an angel prayer when I was little,’ she blurted, her heart racing. He was just a man! And only a Muggle to boot. Why in Merlin’s and Nimue’s name did he scare her so much?

‘In that case, there is hope for you,’ he announced.

Hermione almost sighed with relief: Just a religious zealot.

Thank heaven, she thought, and the irony was not lost on her.

‘Uh, it was nice talking to you, sir, but I really have to run.’ She spun around and hurried away, trying to ignore the strange itch between her shoulder blades that made her wonder if the Muggle was watching her go.

oooOooo

In the Ministry of Magic, Harry Potter was staying far longer at work than he had to once more. He felt hollow and exhausted, but being with Ginny somehow only made him feel worse. She was so damn fierce and determined to keep going. Not exactly as if nothing had happened, but rather in spite of it all—come hell or high water, no matter if it rained cats and dogs or horned toads and dragon tongues. Actually, he admired that. Really. He’d always known that Ginny was far stronger than he was.

But right now her very fortitude was wearing him down. Still, he really should get going now. It was time to go home.

Late on a Saturday afternoon, the Ministry was all but deserted, except for the Unspeakables and the team of Aurors that was on the weekend shift. And the Minister of Magic, he assumed. Shacklebolt had practically lived in the Ministry, and Andromeda was working no less hard. Little Teddy was spending more time at the Burrow these days than in his own home.

Harry stopped walking and groaned. Somehow he’d done what he always did at the end of a long day, when he had a lot on his mind. He’d bypassed the fireplaces of the Floo-network and kept going.

And now he was standing in front of Draco’s old office.

With a deep sigh, he opened the door.