A Buried Past

25.9K 785 510
                                    

The stars had disappeared. 

Hours ago they were scattered throughout the night sky, shining beautifully out of reach, but when Hermione's feet landed roughly against pavement, there was nothing but the lonesome midnight plum and navy shades stretching out above her. 

She pulled her hand back from Allegra, who had been squeezing her fingers tightly like she was afraid she would lose Hermione in the apparition process.  

She added distance from Mr. and Mrs. Zabini, taking slow footsteps forward. In front of her was a giant, white gate. It was the only thing visible in the darkness as it extended miles in opposite directions. Every rail on the gate was twisted in eccentric detail, rising high at a peak that reminded her of Victorian buildings her father had taught her all about. At the center divide of the gates, a large, silver eagle spread its wings, every feather glittering off purple light as she squinted at it.

When she reached to touch one of those silver feathers, the eagle let out a loud, echoing squawk and fluttered its wings. The impressive, white gates parted to expose a stunning and impossible manor behind its distance. 

"Blood magic," Allegra came to stand on Hermione's left. "Or rather it recognizes your blood. I still am unsure as to which made the enchantment succeed."

"It is still amazing magic, amore," Deon told his wife from the background. Hermione turned to look behind her stiff shoulder, watching as the man once again lingered in the back with that twisted, sad look in his green eyes. Occasionally they sparkled with something gentle when he did look at Allegra, but mostly his gaze was set on remorse. 

"It opens only for the three of us—well, four of us now," she continued, offering Hermione a smile. "We first thought about having the gates open for all Vivaldis and Zabinis, but that poses a security problem within itself. It took me longer than I would like to admit, but I eventually figured out the components of your DNA to add you to the enchantment."

Hermione wanted to ask exactly how their original families posed threats to them, but her mouth remained in a tight line. Instead, she forced herself to give Allegra a forced nod, signaling that she had indeed heard every proud word she had said. Of course, blood magic was an incredibly complex form of magic, and her (traitorous) brilliant mind also had dozens of questions for the woman regarding her experiments with it, but she stopped herself from doing so. Instead, she took a step to the right, away from Allegra's hand gently touching her back to motion her forward.

At the end of a long, pebbled pathway with forest surroundings was the entrance of pureblood society. That was how Hermione saw it when she had to tilt her head back, taking in as much as she could of the enormous house before her. 

At first glance, the manor was completely impressive on its own. It stretched out for miles, getting lost in the shadow of the midnight forest surrounding it. The white windows of the building were rimmed in silver, arching in eccentric, detailed twirling peaks. There were also two towers centering at the front of the manor, and Hermione allowed herself to wonder if they used them to study the sky, or to look out at the land they owned with pride in their chests. 

When they stopped at the large, oval doors made of smooth marble, Hermione longed for the small home that belonged to the Grangers. They never needed towers of silver, floating chandeliers lighting up the entrance, or an entire estate to make their house a home. What was inside—their love, their comfort, their kindness was what was truly valuable. 

Light poured out from inside the manor, blinding Hermione as she was welcomed in. She let herself grow dizzy by it, wishing with all her might she might pass out and wake up to a reality that was all hers just a few hours back. Of course, she knew that would not be the case no matter how continuously she prayed for it every single second. So she held on to her silence like it was her skin, feigning focus on every little (expensive) trinket Allegra pointed out on the way further inside her manor. 

Lover of the LightWhere stories live. Discover now