Chapter 134

The Prophet was flooded with news of tragedy. For the next few weeks into April, Atlas tried her damndest to stay away from the acursed paper; she tuned out whenever one would appear on post days in the Great Hall, and Hermione knew not to read anything aloud when she received hers. Too many deaths, too much violence, too many false arrests and accusations just to make the Ministry look better. Just the other day, a 5-year-old boy named Theo Montgomery had been killed by Fenrir Greyback, and his poor older sisters had to attend school despite this. It was cruel. It was violent. Atlas couldn’t handle it.

And then Aragog had gone and died, and Hagrid had begged the four of them to attend the impromptu funeral for the spider. Still, Atlas really couldn’t do it, not just because Hermione was adamant that she not go out wandering the grounds after dark, but because watching Hagrid sob might genuinely push her over the edge. She was exhausted. So, whilst Hermione and Ron went to take their Apparation exam and Harry disappeared to Potions, she skipped classes and found herself standing in the corridor staring up at the Room of Requirement like so many times before. 

Music played in her ears, her cassette player in her lap, she let her fingers drum along the edge of the device, contemplating quietly. She itched her neck where a fresh bruise was blooming, a small smile tugging at her mouth as she remembered that morning. Atlas was moments away from letting her mind wander when she caught a flash of movement in the corner of her eye and stood to follow it. For a moment, she thought maybe she’d caught Draco in the act, but it became clear the figure was far from platinum-haired. More…bald.

“Fobbo?”

The elf squeaked and froze as Atlas rested the headphones around her neck, and he slowly turned to her, shaking from head to toe. His feet were covered in dirt, his hands riddled with little cuts, and he smelled like beast dung. Atlas pinched her nose. Dirt. Beast dung. Little scrapes. That, paired with the knowledge of the vivarium hidden within this very corridor, painted a pretty picture.

“Miss Atlas!” He shouted, startled and bumped into a wall as he backed into it.

“What are you doing here?” Atlas said, frowning as she glanced sideways at the blank, doorless wall. Her suspicion was piqued, jaw clenching. “Fobbo…” 

“Stupid, stupid Fobbo!” Fobbo prattled, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he began to hit himself with his palm. Atlas had never seen the elf harm himself; he wasn’t raised that way, not like other elves. She reached out to stop him, her brows softening from suspicion to concern as she held his cut hands.

“Whoa, Fo, hey, stop that,” she said gently and crouched down. “I’m not mad or…anything, I just…you’re covered in dirt and smell like beast dung, and I know there’s a vivarium here, I just — Fobbo, are you hiding something from me?”

“Oh, miss! Miss Atlas, Fobbo is sorry, he is. Fobbo is bad at secrets,” He said, tears in his big eyes as he stared up at Atlas. He blinked away his tears and sniffled, blowing his nose into his too-big potato sack. Atlas frowned and patted his head. “Fobbo is so sorry!”

“Don’t be sorry, Fo, just…show me the Vivarium,” Atlas said and straightened. She walked over to the wall and waited, her arms crossed as she clenched her jaw. Fobbo remained frozen; he lingered behind, wringing his hands together, gulping nervously. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He nodded and stepped forward, clicking his fingers so that a spark flared between his thumb and middle.

There was a moment, a very still moment, where the click echoed, and then the bricks began to shift, transforming into a large wooden door. Moss grew at the bottom ridges, and a woodworm of some kind was eating away at the sweep of it. It was ancient, appearing even older than the castle itself, perhaps belonging to one that preceded Hogwarts. Atlas stared up at it for a moment; the original door she had once ventured through with Hermione hadn’t looked so worn. Or maybe she simply hadn’t been paying attention.

Fobbo walked forward first, and Atlas hesitated, staring into the black abyss. She took a breath, closed her eyes and stepped forward. The darkness of her eyelids lightened to a blinding orange, and she squinted as she opened her eyes, the hot beams of the sun warming her skin. She looked around, finding walls of old cobble, mossy and ruined. It was an old castle, a different entrance from the one she and Hermione had wandered through. Her shoes clicked across the cobble as she spun around to take it all in. The door clasped shut behind her and disappeared in blotches.

The roof was missing, the sun was hot and high in the sky, and for a spring day, it felt more like summer. Nifflers, Fwoopers and Jobberknolls roamed around freely, the same ones Atlas and Hermione had seen on Christmas Day. Fobbo hopped down the cobble stairs, jumping down each one until he reached the bottom and turned to look up at Atlas nervously.

“This is amazing, Fobbo. Have you been helping these guys here? How?” Atlas said, in complete and utter disbelief. She knew Fobbo must’ve had a life before winding up on Minerva’s cottage doorstep, but this…this was entirely out of Atlas’s expectation. “Alone?”

“Fobbo…likes helping,” Fobbo said as a kneazle ran over to him, tail high. It purred and rubbed against Fobbo’s legs, swerving in and out of his legs. Atlas crouched down, and the kneazle ran over to her near instantly. It had a metal leg, carved intricately. 

“You made these prosthetics?” Atlas asked as she held out her hand, the kneazle instantly gave her its metal paw, and she examined it quietly.

“No,” he paused, “someone else did it for Fobbo,” Fobbo said, and Atlas glanced at him in question, “a friend.”

“In Hogsmeade?” Atlas said only to freeze when she caught the familiar glint of something emerging from the dense forest surrounding the ruined castle. She pulled Fobbo behind her as the Nundu pounced out of the shadows, the kneazles and surrounding animals fled, and Atlas transformed, snarling and snapping as the Nundu barrelled forward and jumped into the air.

They tumbled into the long grass, the ruined cobblestone that lay littered in the grass dug into Atlas’s hide. She bit at the air and received instead a paw to her muzzle. A feline slap. She blinked and then blinked again as the Nundu tapped her once more, claws withdrawn, just soft paws striking her snout. Atlas paused when she realised she wasn’t being mauled, her head tilting to the side, ears flopping as she bared her teeth. The Nundu chuffed, excited as it nuzzled its spiny neck against Atlas’s.

“Merlin! Fobbo thinks Merlin should stop!” Fobbo cried out as he ran over and pushed the Nundu, Merlin, away, using his entire body weight to nudge Mitten’s off of Atlas. Atlas lay there, utterly blindsided and then rolled over. She shifted and pushed herself up from her hands and knees, shaking herself off, “Fobbo is so sorry, Miss Black!”

“A Nundu…being friendly?” Atlas said. Merlin approached and sniffed. He seemed confused by what he smelled, shaking his head and sneezing before nudging Atlas’s hand. He licked it. “Hey,” Atlas chuckled at the rough sandpaper sensation and reached out, hand carefully stroking down the soft, pliant spikes of his neck. Hermione had been right. Merlin had been happy to see her that day, but why?

“He is kind,” Fobbo assured as he fretted, apparently worried that Atlas may have been hurt.

“What’s wrong with him?” Atlas asked as she crouched and cupped the feline’s face.

“Uhm…he is…uhm, no venom,” Fobbo said, apparently slightly unsure, as if he had forgotten. 

“His venom?” Atlas questioned as she leaned around to get a good look. Merlin tilted his head to the side as if used to such an inspection, chuffing contentedly as Atlas noticed a long scar that had sliced into the poor boy’s venom gland. It had scarred horribly, a pale white line against the dark, leathery skin of its neck. Atlas’s eyes travelled further, admiring the beautiful beast’s powerful frame. Its body resembled a leopard, with red-tinged spots along its back and sides, though the venom sac that was supposed to fill with deadly gases was reminiscent of a lion’s mane. 

Atlas stood, and the Nundu followed, looking up at her eagerly.

“I saw a Thunderbird the last time I was here,” Atlas said, and Fobbo seemed to grow nervous, “what? Is it not friendly?”

“It is…proud, like a hippogriff,” Fobbo said, unsurely, and stepped closer, backing towards the invisible door. “Fobbo thinks we leave now.”

“What? But this place is amazing Fo…” Atlas said, marvelling at the space and grinning when the Nundu nudged her leg. “Just a little longer, please? And then I’ll leave, and I won’t tell a soul, I promise.”

“Miss Black promises…” Fobbo muttered to himself, gnawing on his bottom lip as he ultimately nodded. “Ok, Fobbo will let you stay. But only if Miss Black promises to stay here. Right here.”

“Ok, Fo. Promise,” Atlas smiled as she glanced down at Merlin, “You coming along, Merlin?”

“Fobbo will show you around, and then Miss Atlas can leave,” Fobbo rushed over, ushering Atlas along, away from going into any of the other territories or biomes. Atlas longed to run with the Graphorns over on the beach in the distance, but since she had promised Fobbo, it was looking more and more like a pipedream.

“So, what is this place? Is it connected to the outside?” Atlas asked as they walked, spotting all manner of creatures.

“No, it is not. Fobbo never goes outside, that would make him a bad elf!” Fobbo squeaked, and Atlas breathed a sigh of relief; at least this place couldn’t be a bridge to the outside world. But that left the question of how Visha had gotten in those weeks ago. She pushed the thought aside for later as they approached a treasury of Nifflers, all of them sniffling at Atlas and cowering at the sight of Merlin, who preened and cleaned his paws with casual, unbothered licks.

“It’s all right, I was scared of him at first, but I bet you guys have known him longer, so you should probably give him a chance, right?” Atlas chuckled as she sat down in the long grass and patted her lap. The Nifflers hesitated, bills upturned, sniffing at the air around Merlin before crawling forward, bodies low to the floor as if attempting to remain unseen. They climbed into Atlas’s lap, around five of them, whilst the rest propped themselves up on their hind legs and held her knees. “This is insane…”

They searched her pockets naturally before settling in for warmth, all piling on top of each other whilst Atlas’s careful hands stroked over each of them. She made sure to give each one the same amount of care, careful not to show any favouritism, not that they cared, they just seemed happy to bask, pudgy tummies filled with fake galleons turned to the sun. “So who makes the prosthetics?”

Fobbo seemed startled, his eyes widening as he searched for an answer. His prolonged silence disturbed Atlas, and she frowned at him, her hand stilling where it was nestled into the wiry fur of one of the Nifflers. 

“Fobbo…Fobbo is friends with an elf in Diagon Alley,” he said quickly as he approached one of the Nifflers. It seemed wary but let him touch its fake bill. “They is…they is kind.”

“They must be if they do all of this for you,” Atlas said, eyes trained on her oldest friend. He didn’t look back, and she frowned. He was hiding something, but Fobbo would never do anything to hurt her. So, this secret…she figured, he was allowed to keep. She glanced down at the Nifflers. “Can you tell me their names?”

“Yes, Miss Black. Fobbo would be delighted.”  

Night had fallen relatively quickly within the vivarium; Atlas didn’t know how the time dilation worked relative to the outside world, so she didn’t want to push it. Merlin was reluctant to let her go, yowling loudly as Fobbo ushered Atlas back towards the ruined door. Atlas felt bad, waving goodbye as she ducked through the door. 

There was that brief feeling of floating, and then the clatter of the door falling shut behind her, Atlas’s shoes hit stone, leaving behind a few muddy footprints that’d soon be cleaned by wandering elves. The sun shone brightly through the high windows, a jarring contrast the Vivarium, but welcome since she hadn’t wanted to worry Hermione with her absence. By her pocketwatch’s count, she’d been gone a couple of hours. She turned to Fobbo.

“Thank you for entertaining me for a bit, Fo,” Atlas smiled softly and reached down to knuckle his cheek gently. He chuckled and grinned. “If you ever need my help with looking after the animals, I’d be more than happy.”

“Fobbo is fine,” he said, nodding firmly to himself. “Fobbo must go now, I is busy.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Atlas said and shook her head fondly. She tapped the excess dirt off of her shoes and shot Fobbo an apologetic look, “Sorry about the mess. I’ll come and visit when I have time, all right? Say hello to Dobby and Winky for me.”

“Of course, Miss Atlas,” Fobbo beamed before disappearing with a click of his fingers. Atlas was left alone, her heart a little lighter, knowing now that the Vivarium was safe and under Fobbo’s care. She glanced out of the window, spotting a group of students making their way up from Hogsmeade, where the Apparation Exam had been held. She could spot Hermione from a mile away, a grin further splitting her face as she turned and made her way to the courtyard.

She waited by the fountain, sitting on the edge with her legs crossed at the ankles. People waved as they filtered back into the entry hall, and Atlas nodded and smiled to each one, only to absolutely beam when Hermione emerged with Ron in tow. Hermione saw her second and rushed over, standing in between Atlas’s legs and placing her hands on her shoulders.

“Hey, you,” Atlas said. “How’d it go?”

“Oh, well…” Hermione trailed off as she glanced over at Ron. He was slouching, looking forlorn as he picked at his eyebrow as if it had personally wronged him. “I passed.”

“Naturally, I’m proud of you,” Atlas said, squeezing Hermione’s hips. “Ron?”

“He — he failed,” Hermione whispered. Ron didn’t want to talk; a frown marred his lips, “It was really unlucky, a tiny thing, the examiner just spotted that he’d left half an eyebrow behind…”

That explained the way the boy was ruefully plucking his eyebrow, “You’ll pass next time, Ron. You can take it with Harry.”

Ron grunted and huffed, throwing his hands up as he muttered something about the common room and disappeared inside. This left Hermione and Atlas outside, fingers intertwined. Atlas pressed a kiss to her lips, noses bending against one another, “I was being serious, I’m super proud of you, Mione.”

“Sure,” Hermione huffed and stood. She pulled Atlas up with her and held her hand all the way to the common room. “So, how was class?”

Atlas pursed her lips, looking off to the side.

“Did you bunk?”

“I didn’t want to spend another Potions listening to Slughorn wax poetry about Harry’s potions prowess,” Atlas said, conceding to Hermione’s searching look. She was doing that thing with her eyebrows again, tilting her head to the side. She knew the truth; she just wanted Atlas to admit it. “Instead,” Atlas continued, a smile worming its way onto her face, “I found the Vivarium!”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm, I spent time with all of the beasts,” Atlas said and explained in detail the adventure she had had with Fobbo. 

Hermione seemed intrigued, nodding along and humming as Atlas excitedly explained the intricacies of the beasts’ prosthetics and the backstories of each one. She talked about the nifflers, whose beaks were a common ingredient in potions believed to promote ‘long life’, the fwoopers who had had their wings clipped, and Merlin, the nundu who had had his venom gland cut out as a cub.

“Did Fobbo tell you who was making the prosthetics?” Hermione said once Atlas had finished with her tales. They were waiting for the stairs to change. Atlas was leaning against the stone bulastrade, her arms crossed as Hermione leaned against the opposite, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“No. Just said they worked in Hogsmeade.”

“Atlas…”

“I know how it sounds,” Atlas sighed, she took a step forward, bracketing Hermione in, “but I know Fobbo, he wouldn’t do anything that could hurt anyone. And those animals? They were trusting, kind, and they wouldn’t get loose.”

“If Fobbo is smuggling things like that into the school, Atlas, it’s a serious breach of security,” Hermione said gently. She squeezed Atlas’s hips, trying to get her to see her way of thinking, but Atlas didn’t look at her, staring instead past her head. Hermione sighed and cupped her face, “Look at me. I’m not saying it’s something Fobbo would do, but I am saying it’s something someone else could do.”

“I understand,” Atlas said and nodded. Hermione smiled and kissed her softly, naturally Atlas melted. “…I’ll tell Fobbo to keep a lookout for anything suspicious.”

“Harry’s asked Dobby to do the same; maybe you should ask Kreacher, too.”

“Hermione.”

“I know,” Hermione said as she smoothed down Atlas’s tie. “But it’s peace of mind.”

“I’ll think about it.” The stairs locked into place, but Atlas kept Hermione in the space between her arms, earning herself a curious look. Atlas leaned in, their noses brushing, and pressed a delicate kiss to Hermione’s lips.

“I despise PDA.” Liar-liar.

“Do you?” Atlas smirked coyly as she pressed another kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I’m a prefect, I need to set an example for the younger students,” Hermione huffed as she pushed gently against Atlas’s chest. “It’s a free period; somebody could see us.”

“No, one look at me and they’ll scatter,” Atlas said. “Besides, prefect shmefect, I want to kiss you.”

“I take my duties seriously,” Hermione covered Atlas’s mouth, and Atlas licked her palm, “Atlas! That’s disgusting.”

“I thought you liked my –“

There was a shift, and the staircase began to change, slowly rumbling away from them. Hermione frowned, glaring at Atlas, who had the nerve to look sheepish. She threw her hands up in surrender as Hermione sighed, the two of them watching as the staircase made its rounds.

“The concept of a moving staircase is stupid…”

“Atlas, shut up.”

Harry and Ron were talking in hushed tones when Hermione and Atlas eventually found their way back. Atlas was cowed after being thoroughly reprimanded by her girlfriend on their way back – an innocent first year had spotted Atlas’s hand sneaking up Hermione’s skirt down a corridor – and sat rigidly beside Hermione on the common room couch. The boys stopped their chatter to shoot Hermione and Atlas, searching looks only to cower as well under Hermione’s icy glare.

“What are you two up to?” Hermione snapped, still flushed and irritated as she smoothed down the front of her skirt. She clearly hadn’t meant to snap, but the lingering aggitation from the incident seemed to influence her tone.

“Harry’s going to use the liquid luck to get the memory from Slughorn!” Ron blurted, almost as if to defend himself. It worked in a way; Hermione’s agitation cleared, and instead she looked intrigued, leaning forward to look at Harry.

“That’ll do it,” Atlas nodded. She leaned forward as well, inching a little closer to Hermione. Hermione let her, and Atlas grinned to herself. “When?”

“Now, probably,” Harry said and let out a steadying breath. He was clutching the tiny, gleaming bottle in his hand, his jaw clenched and eyes determined. “Talking to him hasn’t gotten me anywhere.”

“Really? Now? It’s curfew,” Hermione frowned.

“With Felix, he isn’t going to get caught, though, is he?” Ron pointed out, and Hermione nodded in reluctant agreement.

“Ok, well…” Atlas trailed off and then leaned over to pat his shoulder, “no time like the present, right?”

“Yeah, here goes,” Harry said, and he raised the little bottle and took a carefully measured gulp.

“What does it feel like?” Hermione whispered.

Harry was silent for a moment, and for a second, Atlas worried deeply for his health, that was until a brilliant grin split his face, his eyes alight and determined, he seemed to be brimming with energy as he capped what was left of his potion, shoving it into his pocket.

“Excellent,” he said. “Really excellent. Right…I’m going down to Hagrid’s.”

“What?” Ron and Hermione said together, Atlas’s eyes simply widened.

“No, Harry — you’ve got to go and see Slughorn, remember?” Hermione said.

“No,” Harry said confidently. “I’m going to Hagrid’s. I’ve got a good feeling about going to Hagrid’s. “

“You’ve got a good feeling about burying a giant spider?” Ron asked, looking stunned, and Atlas had almost forgotten about Aragog’s passing.

“Yeah,” Harry said, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag. “I feel like it’s the place to be tonight, you know what I mean?”

“No,” the three of them said, all looking alarmed.

“This is Felix Felicis, I suppose?” Hermione said anxiously, gesturing to Harry’s pocket where the bottle had been kept away snug. “You haven’t got another little bottle full of — I don’t know –“

“Essence of Insanity?” Ron suggested as Harry swung his cloak over his shoulders.

Harry laughed, and the three of them wound up suddenly looking even more alarmed.

“Trust me,” he said. “I know what I’m doing…or at least…” he strolled confidently to the portrait door, “Felix does.”

“Maybe I should go after him,” Atlas murmured, already moving to stand, but Hermione pulled her back, shaking her head firmly.

“You’re not leaving the castle,” she said and watched the portrait swing shut, “Harry’s right…the potion’s no doubt ensuring some sort of outcome, it’s not like it rewrites the future, it’s more like a passive clairvoyance. It just seems…odd.”

“Right,” Atlas sighed and slumped back. “Do we just…wait?”

“What else can we do?” Ron asked, still looking bewildered at the portrait door.

They waited for a while, trying to focus on some homework, but none of them seemed to have the mental capacity to study when Harry was absent, off on his jollies and influenced by a very powerful potion. Ron eventually made himself scarce when Lavender and Parvati came down to study by the fire, and Hermione and Atlas took that as their cue to also retire to their dorm.

Inside, Atlas was feeling a hollow sort of ache in her chest, her brows furrowing as she stared out of the window down at Hagrid’s hut. She got changed, unbuttoning her shirt whilst Hermione fed Little Robin a few crumbs of fairy dust to keep up his strength and tossed her uniform over the foot of her bed. It felt a little strange to be the one watching someone else take action; she felt oddly bereft, in fact, as if she wasn’t fulfilling her purpose.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hmmm?” Atlas hummed softly as Hermione’s arms curled around her from behind, and a pair of soft lips began to peck little kisses across the brand on her back. She allowed it, closing her eyes as Hermione’s hands began to roam up her sides and over the claw marks marring her ribs. “Nothing…I just feel really odd letting Harry do this alone.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Hermione whispered against her skin, “every time Dumbledore tells you to do something, you come out hurt. I was…really happy when you didn’t end up helping Harry win Professor Slughorn over.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s terrible, I know…we’ve spoken about this already,” Hermione continued, and Atlas turned around in her arms, leaning her behind against the windowsill, “but you make me want to be…so incredibly selfish.”

“You can be selfish, I want you to be selfish, I want to give you anything you want,” Atlas said, her voice low, eyes glinting gold as her devotion spiked. She leaned in, their noses bumping, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want a lot of things,” Hermione said, a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Atlas stared at it. “I want to get all of my homework done…”

“Uh-huh…” Atlas murmured, leaning in.

“I want to pass all of my N.E.W.Ts.”

“Anything else?” Atlas said, breathy and distant as Hermione traced the soft skin of Atlas’s stomach with the tips of her fingers. Atlas swallowed and focused on Hermione’s teeth, not as bucktoothed as they had once been, but still noticeably bunny-like; she suddenly wanted to run her tongue along them. “Anything to do with me?”

“Anything to do with you?”

“Yeah…” Atlas croaked, “Please…something to do with me. Please.”

Hermione flushed delicately, the tops of her cheeks turning red as she smiled, tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek. Atlas’s eyes followed the movement before she huffed and leaned forward. She pressed her lips to Hermione’s throat, peppering a trail down until she was grazing her teeth against the purple scarring that disappeared into Hermione’s shirt. She could feel how Hermione warmed, not needing to look to know her chest had turned red. Atlas dragged the flat of her tongue against her clavicle, and Hermione’s breath hitched. She gently pushed Atlas back.

“Hermione,” Atlas said, her voice low, almost warning, but she obeyed, not wanting to force anything and sat back.

“There are children present,” Hermione said, her voice a little breathless as she gestured to Kalo, Little Robin and Crookshanks, who seemed to be judging them.

“Crookshanks, you forsake me…” Atlas groaned as Hermione shook against her with quiet laughter.  “You can leave, can’t you, Crook? Be a good boy.”

He remained resolutely seated and began to clean his paws.

“Hermione…” Atlas said, and turned to Hermione with a wounded expression, “I don’t want children.”

And Hermione laughed until her sides hurt.