She swallowed. The news felt like a concussion. After days of dreading Severus' arrival, of regarding it as a foregone conclusion, his sudden absence felt like seismic shift. Everything had been thrown into the air, and there was no telling how it would land.
“Is it confirmed that he's dead? He might have escaped.”
Draco looked back at her and gave a slow nod. “It's confirmed. They sent the bodies back with a message: 'The blood of the Dark Lord's servants will fuel the revolution.' His corpse was drained. I personally confirmed that it was him.”
Draco gave a sharp sigh and started pulling off his Death Eater robes. “The rest of Eastern Europe is expected to follow suit within the next few days. It's—” Draco snorted, “—it's the collapse we orchestrated, we just hoped they'd wait until July. Severus claimed he had everything under control.” He sneered. “Fucking idiot.”
The last words were half-snarled.
Hermione swallowed and forced herself to breathe. Her stomach felt as though there were a weight in it so painful she wanted to double over and vomit. She was going to die. She and the baby and Draco were all going to die.
Severus had been the vital piece. He'd been her last hope. She'd thought that maybe he'd help her find a way to save Draco. She'd told him before she left for Sussex that she needed Draco to live. He had to know she wasn't going to fly away quietly while Draco went off to commit suicide. She'd mentally rehearsed a speech begging him, “
She'd clung to the idea that Severus might have ideas that she and Draco hadn't considered.
Without him, she suddenly felt the last tiny ray of hope gutter out. It was as though a black hole had opened under her feet, swallowing not only her desperate hope for Draco's survival, but hers and their baby's as well.
Draco looked as though he were on the verge of a breakdown. He breathed in sharply through his teeth and dragged a hand through his hair before kicking his robes across the room.
Her hand twitched towards him. She felt as though she might faint.
She reached out and touched him lightly on the arm. He stared down at her, and he looked so tired.
“It's — it's alright, Draco,” she said, meeting his eyes. Her voice threatened to waver, but she forced it to stay steady. “It's alright,” she said again.
Her chest spasmed, and her fingers gripped his sleeve. “You did everything you could. More than anyone should have ever asked.”
Draco looked at her for a moment before his eyes narrowed. “You're still leaving.”
Hermione stared at him blankly.
He reached up, and his fingertips brushed her cheek. “I can still get you out. Severus was the safest option, but there are other options. I didn't mean for you to think you wouldn't escape now.”
Hermione was still gripping his sleeve. He rested his hand on hers. “It won't be as clean. It's longer, and it'll be a more difficult journey for you to take,” his expression was worried, “especially pregnant. Ginny will come back to Britain and take you.”
Before Hermione could react, he called out “Topsy!”
Topsy instantly appeared in the room.
“Topsy, Severus is dead.” He said it matter-of-factly. The rage was gone. He was cold and intent, back on mission.
An option had been eliminated. He'd moved on to the next. Unhesitating. Unyielding. Driven to succeed.
Severus had been a mechanism for getting what he wanted.
“Granger will leave Europe via the route Kreacher and I established this spring. You and Kreacher will both leave tonight for Ginny's safe house. When you arrive, you'll take over care of James while Kreacher brings Ginny back. Everything you'll need for the journey is in the safe house at Whitecroft. I'll send word, so she'll expect you.”
Topsy looked up at Draco and then folded her arms obstinately. “If Topsy is going, who is taking care of the Miss?”
Draco considered for a moment. “Bobbin. Bobbin will take care of her while you're with James.”
Topsy shook her head. “The Miss is not even knowing Bobbin, she is only knowing Topsy. Bobbin knows babies, Bobbin is not knowing one thing about pregnant witches. Topsy will stay.”
Draco gave a long suffering sigh as he stared down at Topsy, whose chin was only slightly higher than his knees. “Bobbin could care for James in the short-term, but if the escape doesn't go as planned, you'll be caring for him for the foreseeable future. Bobbin is not capable of that.”