Chapter 128

“Our response was slow, we admit…”

Everything was so blurry, fuzzy, it all smelled of blood and noxious toxins, someone was groaning, low and pained and after a moment, Atlas realised it was herself, trying to move, to sit up, to make sure they were safe, Hermione was safe, but she wasn’t moving an inch. Her back was stuck to the sofa, by her fatigue or perhaps the dried blood that clung to her skin like death upon a corpse. It was cold. Bitter. Atlas could see the blankets across her body, piled high to keep her warm, yet the chill was as persistent as a weed.

“Slow? Slow!?” Hermione?

“Signals are hard to authenticate, we get too many from folk scared of their bins rattling, especially at this time of night,” a wizard tried to reason and Atlas could imagine Hermione’s face, flushed with anger, ready to fling hex and curse, left and right. “We noticed a spike in magic upon investigating the claim and –“

“Save it, Watts,” Came another familiar feminine voice, shaky and pained, “Hermione’s right, we should’ve been here…”

Atlas wondered if she’d be dead. Would she have died here if the aurors had turned up even a moment later? With Hermione all alone to cradle her dead body? The thought alone caused her heart to clench painfully, panic seizing her at the idea of her Hermione so distraught, so alone, waiting with her lifeless corpse. She hated it.

“H – Hermi…” In her mind she wasn’t slurring, she wasn’t stuttering nor struggling, she tried to string together complete sentences, she tried to move though only her fingers twitched, reaching in Hermione’s direction. Within seconds a comforting warmth threaded through her fingers and there was an instant relief within Atlas, her body melting further into the sofa as a soft wheezing breath blew past her lips and she blinked, over and over, desperate to see her face. “Here…”

Once again, Atlas thought she had said more, apologised and expressed her love over and over though she knew it wasn’t possible. Her throat didn’t seem to be complying tonight. She licked her lips, swallowing as Hermione inched closer and her watery smile came into view, her lips soon warm against Atlas’s own.

“You’re awake,” Hermione said against her lips and sighed with relief. 

“M’sorry,” Atlas struggled to say as she managed to reach up, slow and pitiful, just to cup her cheek and let her fingers thread through soft bushy curls. “Lockin’…”

“Later,” Hermione said, shaking her head, dismissing the conversation for another time.

“Mmm,” Atlas nodded slowly and blinked, slow and heavy. 

“She’s healin’ well, her persistent exposure to the curse has made her tolerant,” Atlas peered slightly up and past Hermione’s shoulder to see Moody glowering at her, his hand curled around the top of his staff and his false eye in the back of his head. His real eye looked at her hands, “Yeh used it?”

“Yeah…”

“Good.” He stared at her for a long moment, nodding his head almost imperceivably as if confirming that she was awake and talking, alive and relatively well before he turned and lumbered away, grumbling under his breath.

“He stayed here all night,” Hermione whispered into Atlas’s ear, smiling slightly as the man sat down at the living room table and massaged the point in which his flesh met his false leg, still mumbling. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Hermione stroked some of the hair out of Atlas’s face with the back of her knuckle, “he had me changing your bandages every thirty minutes.”

“Oh.”

“Not that I minded,” She continued and Atlas chewed on the inside of her cheek, letting out a low grunt of effort as she tried to sit up – Hermione made a noise of disapproval but Atlas shot her a very serious look with a hint of pleading, begging her to allow her this, which she did. “You’ll give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Atlas offered her a sorry look before glancing out of the window at the setting moon, the sun rising behind them as the sky was cast in an orange hue and a flock of birds took flight, she let out a breath and then sucked a gasp through her teeth, holding it as she forced herself to her one good leg – the other had been healed but still remained in a splint for support, the dull ache still remaining. Hermione helped her walk over to the window where Atlas stared off over at the house she had thrown Zasha into, a rock forming in her throat as she rested her forehead against the glass.

“What is it?”

“Zash was here…” Atlas rasped, finding her voice finally. “She…they changed her.”

“What?” Hermione’s eyes widened, “she’s a werewolf?”

“Werebear.”

“Werebear?” Atlas turned to Tonks, the woman had been mostly quiet, keeping to herself in the corner which was very unlike her – well…unlike her usual her, recently she’d kept her distance from Atlas at any chance she got. “Where’d they get their hands on werebear venom?”

“They got Ollivander. Man put anything in a wand if it stuck,” Moody said absently as he hobbled back over and looked out at the home that was getting quickly fixed by another crowd of witches and wizards on damage control. He huffed, a strange gargle in his throat as he grimaced and grumbled again, “That girl ain’t your friend no more.”

“What are you saying?” Atlas asked, her brows furrowed as she held her side and glared at the back of the man’s head, she knew he could see her, knew he was probably watching that darkness swell within her. 

“She didn’t stop,” Moody turned, the chilling sight of his false eye slipping back into place, both beady pupils fixed on Atlas, the eye contact with her mentor made her shiver with dread, “she knew it was you, yet she didn’t stop.”

“Professor -“

“I ain’t your professor, Miss Granger,” Moody said with a sneer, his eyes widening in threat. He hated being reminded of that time. His time in the seven-layer trunk. He turned back to Atlas, whose fists were clenched, her thoughts of Zasha, of the sweet girl, the glimpse of her she had seen in those big cerulean blues, the confusion and pain. “She’s an enemy.”

“She’s my friend.”

“Yer goin’ to listen to me, and yer going to listen well,” Moody said and gripped her shoulder, glaring into her eyes with his own frenzied ones, as if getting this into Atlas’s head was imperative. “Yer friend is gone, that magic has changed her. Ain’t no person, no matter how sweet, combatin’ power that intense, you hear?”

“But it’s Zasha!”

“And Visha was yer mother’s sister but that didn’t stop her!” Moody roared and it was the first time, the first real-time he had ever shouted at her, ever raised his voice and seemed almost scared as his grip on Atlas’s shoulder grew tight, his false eye frantic. But that wasn’t the only thing that knocked the wind from her lungs, that had her eyes growing wide.

“You knew…”

Moody’s mouth clenched shut, his teeth coming together with an audible click, “well of course I knew, we were partners.”

“You didn’t tell me…all those instances – all those opportunities, every time I fucking asked –” Atlas winced, putting too much weight on her aching leg and Hermione rushed to pull her back, begged for her to stop extenuating her injuries. “Why? If I had known…if I had known…” Atlas stumbled over her words, the betrayal and hurt she felt coiling in her chest like a spring. The other aurors left, ushered out by Tonks who now stood in the doorway, watching Atlas from afar. “You kept it from me…”

Moody said nothing, letting go of Atlas’s shoulder, slowly, he put some space between them, as if eager to run, to not face it, to not tell Atlas why. His eyes were still, focused, for the first time they looked relatively normal and the hard lines of his face softened with regret and grief, mourning written in his skin.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“I don’t know,” Moody said, his voice hoarse, his one good eye developing a sheen. “Because – maybe because I thought it would upset you.”

“And this is better!?” Atlas snapped, wincing again as pain shot through her spine, a wave of nausea knocking the fight out of her legs, Hermione held her up, whispering words of calm, “No, Hermione! He fucking kept it from me!”

“I know, Atlas, I know,” Hermione breathed and very firmly guided Atlas onto the sofa, forcing her down, “but you need to sit…” She looked over her shoulder at Moody, frowning before softly cupping Atlas’s cheeks and kissing her, “I hate to leave you but I don’t think he’ll say much more with an audience.”

“Hermione –“

“Ten minutes,” Hermione said and then looked at Moody, her expression guarded, sour with dislike at the pain he had caused her girlfriend, “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” She didn’t want to go, she looked as if she really wanted to stay, clinging tightly to Atlas for a few seconds before wrenching her hand away and quickly leaving the living room, dragging Tonks out into the hallway with her.

There was silence in the room, Atlas clinging to her aching side as Moody stared at her lost in thought, trapped within his own head as he tried to come up with some excuse, a reason as to why he had chosen not to reveal this to Atlas – reveal he had known who Achyls was all along, for he was not bound by magic, no unbreakable spell to seal his lips. He simply hadn’t.

“Yer mother was the greatest woman I had ever and will have ever met,” Moody said finally, that gruffness gone from his voice, a chilling calmness falling over him that Atlas had never seen, she couldn’t even bring herself to interrupt, staring at this man, this usually so reserved and brutish man suddenly so subdued. “I, er, refused to bring children into this world, marred by the dark arts and the wizards that followed them, though…my, er, wife at the time wanted children but I was afraid. So afraid.”

It was odd, to see Moody like this, a man usually so erratic and anxious, so uptight and rigid, afraid of his own shadow suddenly so calm…so vulnerable, opening up, talking about himself – things he scarcely shared with others if anyone.

“I told her one day, when the world was less terrifying,” Moody had a raspy quality to his words, choked and harsh as if it pained him to speak. He sat down across from Atlas, resting his leg on the coffee table with a harsh thunk. “She asked for a divorce the next day. I didn’t even try to change her mind. I knew I couldn’t give her what she wanted and then Amaya was made my partner, nearly a week later. This girl, barely even twenty, with something haunted behind her eyes, it justified my reason for not wantin’ a little one.”

He wiped his eye quickly, briefly as if he had not wanted it to be seen. It struck Atlas, seeing such a man cry, it didn’t feel right, it hit her low in the chest and made it hard to swallow with how tightly her throat constricted with emotion.

“This doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me,” Atlas said, her brows furrowed, searching between his words, dissecting them instead of simply listening. Moody looked at her for a very long while before taking in a grumbling breath and fiddling with the head of his cane.

“Because I…couldn’t.” Moody said quietly, bowing his head almost ashamed, “I, er, I loved your mother, Atlas. Like my very own. I couldn’t bring myself to have children and yet I was given a daughter. She was just a girl. Just a little girl.” His face hardened again, his false eye spinning to the back of his head as he continued, “And so was Visha. Your mother introduced me to her after she had you and returned to the ministry, I was curious when she told me not to mention her. Sirius didn’t even know she existed. We grew close too, not close like me and your mother but enough for me to ignore the signs. I lowered my guard.”

“The signs?” Atlas echoed, her eyes wide.

“That girl, she wanted something, there was darkness in her. I knew it. I didn’t want to believe it. I never told Amaya, it would have broken her heart, she loved her sister, more than almost anything,” Moody’s face changed, returning to that scowl, that deep distrusting sneer that seemed a fixed permanent thing up until moments ago. “My weakness stopped me, my care, my trust. Misplaced. All of it! And then your mother died, killed – I was there after Minerva sent up that signal, I saw the wreckage, that magic that Amaya had been messing with, I knew it was Visha but I couldn’t speak, I didn’t say anything and I left.”

He looked at Atlas.

“Trusting that girl, in the face of so much power, will always be my biggest regret,” he reached out with a shaky hand, hesitant, unsure and Atlas swallowed down her pride, her indignation and met him halfway, holding his hand in hers, “I lost the greatest gift I had ever been given.”

“I…I understand that…” Atlas nodded, wincing a little as she shifted, “but – but it’s not the same.”

“Atlas – !”

“I know Zasha!” Atlas interjected the withered words of Moody, “She is kind and good and she did not want this. She was afraid of her uncle, afraid of the Dark Arts. She wouldn’t do this willingly.”

“She knew it was you and she didn’t stop, girl!” Moody stressed, clinging onto her hand and Atlas nodded.

“Even so…even so, I can’t give up on her,” Atlas said softly and looked into the man’s eye, “please…trust me.”

He said nothing as he let go of her hand, his expression pinched with frustration, shaking his head and grumbling as he stood, hobbling upright and clinging to his walking staff, he looked at Atlas again, let out a long grumbling sigh and seemed to resign himself to Atlas’s decision. He coughed, wiped his eyes again and turned.

“If that’s what you think’s best.”

Atlas approached him, standing with a groan of effort and stopping by his side, “It is.”

Moody harumphed, shaking his head as he reached out and patted Atlas’s shoulder, he looked at her again, glancing upwards before pulling his lips into a line and nodding, an awkward show of care after spilling his guts. He said nothing more but Atlas didn’t need it, she understood well enough as she watched the man hobble out of the room with his staff clasped solidly in hand.

Mere moments later Hermione returned, glancing over her shoulder at where Moody had disappeared before looking squarely at Atlas and approaching, she leaned up and kissed her softly, cradling her cheeks and searching her expression for any sadness.

“Ok?”

“Yeah…” Atlas nodded and leaned down to rest her head against Hermione’s chest, listening to the beat of her heart. “I’m…really tired.”

“I’m not surprised…you took on eight werewolves and…well, a bear,” Hermione said and tweaked Atlas’s ear, “alone.”

“I know…I know, I’m sorry I just…” Atlas trailed off, knowing better now than to try and excuse her actions.

“We’re a team now…you can’t do this anymore, Atlas,” Hermione spoke into her hair and Atlas nodded, listening as she closed her eyes and clung onto her tighter, “if you’re hell-bent on protecting me you have to let me do the same. I can’t do that again Atlas…that was so scary, I was terrified.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hermione held her just as tight, kissing the top of her head and running her hands through tangled locks of hair. “…Tonks is setting up a private floo network, she said we can’t stay here so I packed our bags while you were talking to Moody.”

“What about your parents?”

“They’ll be safer away,” Hermione said Atlas nodded with a frown. “Not from you Atlas, from both of us…okay?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be ready soon, in the meantime, lay down so I can take a look at your bandages,” Hermione ordered and Atlas obeyed, sitting back on the sofa and laying back slowly, she reached for the hem of her shirt and lifted it for Hermione to examine the patches soaked in something orange to heal the wounds beneath, she peeled them back and hummed, “they don’t need changing…”

“That’s good, right?”

“Mhmm,” Hermione hummed as she drew circles on Atlas’s hip, a frown creasing her brow. Atlas reached down, clasping her hand, her brows pinched together in concern as she noticed Hermione’s absent response. “It’s nothing.”

“If you’re sure…” Atlas said as she slowly pushed down her shirt and sat up with a soft grunt, Hermione nodded and smiled softly as she kissed Atlas again and helped her to her feet. There was a quiet slam as the front door shut and Tonks entered the room, snowflakes melting in her hair as she smiled hesitantly.

“Ready?” She asked, looking at Hermione.

“Our bags will be taken?” Hermione asked and Tonks nodded, patting the top of one of the bags piled against the wall, “And you’ll take Crookshanks personally?”

“I swear it, Hermione,” Tonks said and Hermione sighed, nodding.

“Kalo will meet us at Hogwarts, he’s already left,” Hermione told Atlas as she took her hand and pulled her out of the house. 

Tonks led the way, explaining that they would use the chimney of a wizard who lived just down the road, he was currently on holiday, no doubt getting away from the mess of the English Ministry. As they trudged through the snow, Atlas leaning on Hermione as she limped, they watched as the muggles were lined up outside and obliviated individually, a blank expression falling over their faces as they crumpled to the floor, knees planted in the snow as their bodies slumped over.

It was unnerving but Atlas envied them. Their ignorance. Their ability to separate themselves from magic. Such freedom could only be dreamed of.

Atlas tripped up a curb and would have tumbled over if it hadn’t been for Hermione’s quick hand, the girl scolded her, muttered about paying attention to where she walked, and held her steady as they ducked into a vacant house. It was cold inside, their breaths visible in the air as Tonks handed them both handfuls of Floo powder.

“Are you going to be okay?” Hermione asked as she propped Atlas up against a wall and hesitantly stepped into the unlit fireplace. Sprinkles of Floo powder fell through the gaps in her fingers, and the droplets created little sparks of green as they hit the ashy bed of charred logs. She waited for Atlas’s response, frowning softly, worried, her gaze tender.

“I’ll be fine, where are we going?” Atlas asked, propping herself up and accepting a handful of Floo powder in preparation for her turn.

“Hogsmeade,” Tonks interjected as she checked her pocket watch, “you’ll be escorted back up to the castle.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Hermione said softly before taking a deep breath and dropping the powder at her feet. “Hogsmeade.”

She disappeared in a plume of green flames, the cold flicker licking at the brick of the chimney and leaving not a single trace of Hermione’s presence besides the little twinkling sparks of remaining powder. Atlas limped forward, standing inside the fireplace and taking a moment to straighten her back.

“Bye, Atlas,” Tonks said with an unsure smile and Atlas looked at her quietly a moment before stepping out and hugging Tonks tight, it took a moment before Tonks held her as well, burying her face into her shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re ok.”

“Me too,” Atlas chuckled lightly and pulled back, looking Tonks’s face all over, smoothing over the bags under Tonks’s eyes with the tender pad of her thumb, “Poppy makes an amazing tonic for sleepless nights.”

Tonks barked a laugh, caught off guard by Atlas’s cheeky remark as she brushed away her hands and shook her head.

“I hope you know I don’t hate you,” Atlas said as she stepped back into the chimney, bracing herself against the wall as she planted her feet securely in the remnants of burned wood, “and I don’t think it’s your fault.”

Tonks looked at Atlas with wide eyes, a soft sheen falling over them as she took in a deep breath through her nose and nodded, she breathed in again as she blinked and a single tear trailed over her cheek, she smiled. “Thanks…”

“See you, Tonks,” Atlas dropped the Floo powder at her feet, the green flames engulfing her as she said – “Hogsmeade.”

A coolness snaked its way up her arms and engulfed her limbs, drowning her in green flame and pulling her from the tangible world, she felt it suck her down into the ground, she kept her eyes closed, not wanting to agitate her already blooming headache from the sudden churning a movement, until suddenly, it all stopped and she was spat out from a chimney in Hogsmeade’s town centre. She dropped to her knees, groaning and swallowing down the roast she had eaten a few hours ago before she lost the little sustenance she still had in her.

“Easy…easy, hey,” Hermione pressed her cold hands to the feverish surface of Atlas’s skin, cupping her cheeks and tilting her gaze up, “take a second. Just breath.”

“That was…the worst,” Atlas muttered hoarsely as Hermione smiled sadly at her and kissed her forehead.

“Not the best way to travel in your condition, but the quickest,” Hermione said as she helped Atlas stand. Waiting over by the massive tree and centre fountain was Minerva and Poppy, a handful of aurors that had been patrolling Hogsmeade standing around them. Instantly, the two women were upon Atlas, scolding her whilst simultaneously checking her over and fawning over her haggard state.

“This is why I wanted you to stay,” Minerva was saying as Poppy shone the bright end of her wand in Atlas’s eye to check for a reaction in her pupils, Atlas winced and groaned as they worried, “I told you it wasn’t a good idea to separate yourself from protected grounds you silly girl, taking on a pack of werewolves, the idiocy!”

“Happy Christmas?” Atlas offered with a grimace.

“Happy Christmas!? You’re lucky you’re alive to say that, get in the carriage!” Minerva snapped, her face creased with worry and concern as Atlas ducked her head and followed Poppy into the carriage. Atlas heard as Minerva asked Hermione if she was all right too before the four of them settled into the carriage and sat back whilst the Thestrals carted them up the road, the aurors outside, guarding them.

“Did Nymphadora apply the correct salve to the bandages?” Poppy asked to cut the tension, Minerva was looking at Atlas with stern concern, her hands balled into fists in her lap. “I assume so as you are not currently bleeding from your cursed wounds.”

“She had it on hand,” Hermione supplied, Atlas didn’t exactly know what they were talking about as she had been unconscious throughout the entire procedure. “Soaked the bandages for twenty seconds and then wrapped them around the wounds.”

“Good, Chiara must have told her what to do,” Poppy nodded and the carriage settled into silence once again, Minerva and Atlas looking at each other – the latter sometimes glanced away, unable to maintain such chilling eye contact.

“You really must take care of yourself,” Minerva said. Poppy and Hermione looked away, a little awkwardly, “my dear, it would break my heart if something were to happen to you.”

“I know.”

“Yet you insist on undermining my attempts to keep you safe, we agreed that you’d stay at the Burrow with the Weasley family,” Minerva said, clearly disappointed by Atlas’s breaking of their arrangement. “Even despite the protective barrier around their home, I was apprehensive. The Granger household had no such measures in place, if you had at least told me instead of making such a rash decision –“

“I’m sorry, ok?” Atlas interrupted, her entire body tense: “I had an argument with Harry – I didn’t fancy staying with him for Christmas.”

“Then you talk, dear. You have a conversation,” Minerva said, her features softening slightly as she reached across to hold Atlas’s hand. “In any other circumstance maybe it was for the best, but separating yourself from a safe location with the wizarding world as it is, was foolish. If not that, would it have been so awful to spend your Christmas here with me?”

“No Minnie,” Atlas said softly at Minerva’s words. Atlas’s brows pinched together in guilt and she sighed, nodding, “I should have told you the change of plans, I was just so eager…I’m sorry for that…and I’m sorry for being such a magnet for trouble.”

Minerva sighed and smoothed over the wrinkles of worry in her brows, “When we get to the castle, Poppy will take you to the infirmary for an examination. No ifs or buts.”

“Ok,” Atlas nodded.

“It’ll just be a quick one, honey,” Poppy smiled as she squeezed Minerva’s arm. “She worries.”

“Of course I do,” Minerva said, holding her chin up as she tightened her hold on Atlas’s hand.

“Her bandages were fine, I checked them a half hour ago,” Hermione supplied and Poppy nodded in thanks.

The carriage slowed to a stop as the castle gates were lifted with a loud creak and everyone slowly filed out of the carriage. The Thestrals huffed and pawed at the gravelly earth as Atlas was helped down the steps on the side by Hermione and Poppy, little grunts of effort falling past her lips every time she put weight on her aching leg. The air was crisp, inches of snow melting at their ankles. Scottish winter was always rigidly cold, but right now, Atlas couldn’t be more thankful for the ice against her throbbing injuries.

“You should go and change, honey,” Poppy said to Hermione, who was still sporting a bloody jumper. Hermione tensed as if suddenly remembering her state and determinedly did not look down at herself, keeping her eyes straight and resolute as she nodded. “Maybe a nice warm shower?”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed, a slight waver to her words as she looked up at Atlas and leaned in to kiss her softly, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Atlas replied roughly and watched as Hermione quickly walked up the castle steps, her hands away from herself as if she didn’t want to brush up against the dark patches on her Christmas jumper. “What sort of – Christ – check-ups are you going to do?”

Atlas turned, expecting an answer only to find Poppy and Minerva staring at her with wide eyes, shock and bewilderment on their faces as they shared a look and then glanced between Atlas and a retreating Hermione.

“Are you and Miss Granger together?” Minerva asked, her brows furrowed and Atlas winced an eye, tilting her head as if utterly confused. 

“What?” She said and then shook her head, disbelieving in their question, “Yeah? Have been for…well, since November.”

“Oh,” Minerva said, her eyes widening.

“Congratulations, dear,” Poppy smiled as they began walking up to the infirmary. “How come you didn’t tell us?”

“I thought it was obvious?” Atlas asked and then frowned as she hooked an arm over Poppy’s shoulder, using her as a makeshift crutch up the stairs, she grunted with effort as she turned to them, “was it not?”

“You act exactly the same, dear,” Minerva said as she walked to the other side of Atlas and helped her too, “besides the…kissing.”

“Really?” Atlas asked as they walked into the infirmary and Poppy gave Atlas a little boost up onto one of the beds. Atlas laid back, looking up at the ceiling as Poppy lifted up her shirt. “I thought everyone knew.”

“Well, I am under the impression that no one knows,” Minerva said softly as she hovered over Poppy’s shoulder, frowning at Atlas’s injuries, she reached over to brush back Atlas’s hair “Atlas you look terrible.”

“I know,” Atlas sighed. “So you think no one knows?”

“This is going to hurt, chicken,” Poppy said idly as she dragged the tip of her wand down the jagged ridges of Atlas’s injuries. Atlas bit back a whimper, clamping down on her bottom lip as the cold end pulled at her tender wounds. “I’m sure, as Minerva said, most of the student body has not a clue.” She pulled back and seemed to study the tip of her wand, “Your wounds are healing impeccably, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” Atlas said and then sat up, letting out a quiet grunt as her shirt fell back into place and Poppy moved onto her leg, the healer inspected the residual bruising with a frown and began pulling little tubs out of her apron pockets. She handed an orange one to Atlas. “What’s this?”

“Bruising paste, Miss Granger should apply it tonight before you sleep,” Poppy said as she helped Atlas down off of the bed and summoned her a crutch, “I don’t want to hear any arguments. You’ll walk on a stick until I say so.”

“Yes, Poppy.”

“And no running around, I want you staying in your common room until the new year.”

“Yes, Minerva.”

“Good, I shall take you up to your dorm now,” Minerva said and hooked her arm through Atlas’s, guiding her slowly out of the infirmary, Atlas shot Poppy a pleading look over her shoulder but Poppy only smiled softly and waved as the ensuing long five minutes of awkward silence was sure to stretch between the pair.

Very few students had stayed over the holidays so the only souls they bumped into were those floating through the halls, tipping their heads or waving in greeting before disappearing through walls. Atlas stayed very quiet, her hand rubbing over her aching side subtly, so as to not draw attention to it. Of course, Minerva noticed.

“I heard Miss Volkova was responsible for that,” The words were laced with an undeniable pity, Minerva’s pinched expression softening slightly as she observed her god-daughters expression, Atlas’s eyes widened, flitting to the floor. She hadn’t realise Minerva had been told, how had she been informed so quickly? 

“How –?”

“Nymphadora Tonks told me through the fireplace, I’m sure you can imagine my shock when her face appeared during my afternoon tea,” Minerva said, walking with her back straight and hands clasped in front of her, “with news of your injury no less…and the discovery of Zasha’s…turn in allegiance.”

“She didn’t choose this!” Atlas snapped quickly.

“You were in your Animagus form, she would’ve known who you were.”

“I know but…” Atlas stopped herself, unable to come up with anything to say, she had no rebuttal, no defence for Zasha besides her gut feeling, an ache in her heart telling her to trust Zasha. Just like it did with her dad in the past. “She’s good…I know she is.”

“Well…I hope you’re right dear,” Minerva said softly as they came to a stop in front of The Lady’s painting, she swung open upon seeing Minerva and gave Atlas a brief hello. “I’ll be up to fetch you in the morning, I’ll have Poppy check up on you every morning until she deems you fit.”

“That’s not necessary,” Atlas sighed but conceded when she noticed the look on Minerva’s face, “ok – ok, all right, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well,” Minerva said, kissing Atlas’s forehead before turning and exiting down the hall.

Inside her dorm, Hermione waited, there were no animals to greet them, not until tomorrow anyway, so it was just the two of them, alone together in the fading light of the moon, they were both exhausted, achieving no sleep the night before thanks to the attack. Their exchange was wordless, Hermione smiled slipping into her bed in her dressing gown and holding up the covers for Atlas to join her. And she did, taking off her trousers and shirt so she was in her shorts and bra before laying down and pulling Hermione into her arms. 

It was warm again, they were warm again. Breathing in sync until they drifted off to sleep.