Chapter 162: 5-3

I was supposed to say "I'm home." In this place. I was supposed to receive a "Welcome back" from him.

"Miss Potter."

Small hands. There were four small hands in total. And yet—two of them were not moving.

"Miss Potter... Dobby is—"

"Please, be quiet."

"Dobby used magic for us. Elf magic. Magic that transports anything he touches to the place he thinks of. Magic much more powerful than a wizard's Apparition."

"Winky, be quiet."

"Dobby saved Miss Potter. Dobby saved Winky. That is why Dobby—"

"Can't you understand I'm telling you to SHUT UP?!"

I shoved away the warm body that was in my arms. All that remained was a corpse slowly losing its heat. —Dobby's body. I knew it. There was nothing that could be done. Once you die, your body heat doesn't return. No matter if I get angry, scream and cry, or pray to the Grim Reaper—the ending won't change.

"Miss Potter..."

Not wanting to look at Winky, I stared at Dobby, who looked as if he were only sleeping. You, who called out Harry Potter's name, whose eyes were closed by Luna's hands—you who called me a friend, you who were not even human.

"Had I... become someone of enough value to be protected at the cost of your life?"

It was a voice stained and seeping with regret. It was so pathetically hoarse it felt like it would fade away entirely. ...If only I could fade away, too.

"—Maria! There you are. I suppose that makes sense, Dobby didn't know about Shell Cottage───Ah. I see."

Draco's hand was placed upon my shoulder as I crouched near the entrance of the house at Grimmauld Place. He guided me indoors as if nursing a patient. He laid Dobby's remains on my bed.

"Let us mourn him. Our brave neighbour."

I nodded absently at Astoria's voice.

"—A place where you can see the sea would be good. Because Dobby.... loved freedom."

Our destination was Shell Cottage, where we had promised to meet Harry and the others. From there, you can look out over the vast, expansive sea. I carefully adjusted my hold on Dobby and offered one arm to Draco and Astoria—but then.

"Winky."

Without taking my hand, Astoria turned to face Winky with a doll-like, expressionless face.

"Winky, take this."

She forcefully pressed something into Winky's hands. —A black, lace glove. That was...

"Daphne's... Miss Daphne's glove. If you are a house-elf, you understand what this means, don't you?"

"A-Ah... no... this is too cruel, it's too cruel, Miss. Winky will not accept it! Winky will not accept 'clothes'!"

"Winky—with this, you are free."

"Aaaah...!"

Astoria's eyes as she looked down at the collapsing, weeping Winky were completely cold. Eyes of ice, very much like Draco's. —And then, those eyes changed their target to me.

"Maria, you bear the responsibility for taking her out. —You have the responsibility to carry her burden."

"...You're right."

Still holding Dobby, I knelt in front of Winky. Winky was devastated, acting as if it were the end of the world. I had repeatedly done terrible things to her. And, I'm sure, from now on too—I won't be able to care for her more than I did for Dobby. Even so.

"Winky. If you wish, I would like to hire you as a house-elf for this home. Of course, you can refuse if you don't want to, and if you wish to serve another family, I'll spare no effort to help you. You can demand 'clothes' from me anytime. ...Please, think about it."

"Miss Potter..."

Winky, having soaked Daphne's glove with her tears, slowly looked up at me while continuing to cry. I barely managed to form a smile for the pitiful elf. As long as Winky is around, I will never forget Dobby's final moments. They won't even fade. Every time I fret over her—I will chew on my mistakes, digest them, and carve them into my brain. Until the very moment I die.

"I'm sorry for taking my anger out on you earlier. I'll be going now. ...Can I leave the house in your care?"

This time, Draco's and Astoria's hands overlapped on the arm I offered. We were heading to the modest cottage of a married couple, overlooking the sea. —To give a friend the greatest, most fitting farewell.

"Have a safe trip, Mistress Maria."

At the moment of Apparition, the voice of the house-elf I heard was brimming with joy, as if she had forgotten all the preceding tragedies.

It sounded like a curse.

We received the address from Bill, the Secret-Keeper who was waiting for us in front of Shell Cottage, and safely reunited with Harry and the others. The trio looked as if they had all survived a fierce battle, and they were receiving treatment in a rotational manner from a very busy Fleur and Luna.

"Ron was amazing! Not only did he grasp the layout of the manor, but he predicted who would move where, and where the next threat would come from, just like Harry looking at the Marauder's Map!"

"Well, you know—it's basically like wizard's chess, isn't it? Strategy and all that."

"That's an incredible talent! I'm sure you'd be relied on in Quidditch, too! But for now, you just need to keep quiet and let us treat you—Maria? You look completely spaced out, what have you been holding since you got here—"

Hermione's chattering, which hadn't stopped—even in a low voice—perhaps to distract herself from the pain or out of lingering excitement now that it was Ron's turn for treatment, trailed off into silence. Fleur and Luna, who had been absorbed in treating Ron's injuries, also stopped their hands and stared wordlessly at Dobby's corpse, as if noticing it for the first time.

"...Harry, you still have my blanket, don't you?"

"Of course."

"I don't want to use magic. ...Will you help me?"

"It's not helping. —I want to do it, too."

Tears were overflowing endlessly from Hermione's eyes, her brilliant mind having instantly understood the situation. Dragging his injured body, Ron pulled her by the shoulder into an embrace.

"Oh, oh no, this can't... how terrible... It's Dobby, isn't it? It's Dobby. Dobby saved us. When I was about to become a hostage to that monstrous woman, Dobby rescued me. I was going to prepare lots and lots of lovely socks and absolutely thank him... How could this happen..."

"Dobby looks just like he's sleeping."

With gauze in one hand, Luna gently stroked Dobby's ears. Over him, Harry draped a blanket that was a different color from his own.

"...Are you really sure about this, Maria?"

"Yes. If it's a memento from our mother, Harry, the one you have is enough. Besides... Mum might come visit Dobby just to see this blanket."

After getting permission from Bill, the owner of the house, I went out into the garden overlooking the sea with shovels alongside Harry, who had finished his first aid. We dug silently, without any conversation or signals. The scent of the sea carried by the wind mixed into the smell of damp earth. It certainly wasn't a pleasant feeling. Yet, neither of us rested our hands. Before long, the number of shovels increased to three, then four. It was Ron and Hermione.

Each person dressed Dobby as they saw fit, and finally, wrapped in Maria's swaddling blanket, he was carried to the front of the grave. Luna said a prayer on everyone's behalf, and as we all watched, we covered him with earth by hand once again. The gravestone was finished by Harry. Using Draco's wand, which he now wielded, Harry carved into the stone: Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf.

By the time the simple, handmade grave was completed, the sun had completely sunk below the horizon of the sea, and Harry and I were the only two left out in the garden. The sound of the waves brought by the night sounded like a lullaby for the sleeping elf.

"Somehow, my head feels clear. Even though the scar on my forehead hurts like crazy."

Harry let the words spill as he looked into the distance. Was he looking at the night sky, or the sea? It was probably somewhere in between. —I knew then that his choice had been made.

"While I was digging the grave, I thought about a lot of things."

"Yeah."

"I ran into Wormtail at the Greengrass manor. Even though I had my wand pointed at him, he smiled. 'James, are you finally going to kill me?' —That's what he said. The wizarding bond with him must have been connected to Dad, too."

"Right. That might be true."

A chill crept up from my feet. As for my current attire, I was wearing only a flimsy, mud-stained dress and Draco's—no, Harry's, its original owner's—dress robes. Naturally, I was cold. Even so, I didn't feel the slightest desire to move from this spot.

Harry continued, his eyes like mirrors reflecting the stars.

"Griphook and Ollivander—which one should I speak to first?"

"Do you really need to ask me that? —When you already have your answer."

I tried smiling. A laugh came back in return. Because it's true. I understand. No, I understand because I am 'me'. Those green eyes—they were the color of determination.

"Dumbledore is cruel. He made us take the long way around, giving us only a few hints, and purposely making things complicated."

"To make you think."

"I needed to know. But, I'm not supposed to seek them, am I."

"If that's what you think."

Suddenly, the gleam in Harry's eyes shifted from the edge of the world back down to Dobby's gravestone. And then it moved toward Shell Cottage. He had decided to take action.

With his hand on the doorknob, he pleaded with the one he loved without looking back. Hoping for the mercy of hazel eyes, and feeling just a tiny bit resentful.

"Maria, just answer one thing. Because right now, the person in this world who is closest to Dumbledore is you—"

Harry didn't turn back. Because if he looked into her eyes, his resolve would waver. Perhaps the thing that had truly tormented Harry the most were the eyes of his beloved other half.

"Am I making a mistake?"

Maria poured nothing but an abundance of affection into her words, her eyes and voice melting sweetly with love as she told him.

"Yes. ──That is why you will be able to reach the end, Harry."

While Harry and the others spoke with Griphook and Ollivander, we moved to a luxurious manor that couldn't even be compared to Shell Cottage. 'We' being me, Maria, along with Draco and Astoria. Well, the person who came out from inside the manor to welcome us was Draco's mother, Narcissa.

This was the result of Draco persuading Bill and the others that we couldn't place any more of a burden on Shell Cottage, and that he would leave Astoria's protection to another contact. That contact was exactly here: the Malfoy's secondary estate, of which I am the Secret-Keeper.

"In other words, Draco. You are saying you wish to invite this Miss Greengrass into our home."

Narcissa cast a suspicious glance at Astoria, who was standing there looking every bit like someone with complicated circumstances, wearing nothing but a negligee and a winter jacket she had unavoidably borrowed from Fleur. Striving to remain calm, Narcissa reconfirmed her son's request. Her son, whom she hadn't heard from in a while, suddenly showed up unannounced bringing along a younger female schoolmate and asking for her protection; as a mother, this had to be the height of bewilderment. However, it was not Draco who replied dignifiedly to Narcissa's completely justified, poorly concealed suspicion, but Astoria.

"I sincerely apologize for intruding at such a late hour, and in such improper attire, Mrs. Malfoy. Furthermore, I am deeply ashamed to possess no formal name with which to apologize properly. Therefore, please, simply call me Astoria—just Astoria."

"—!"

The air grew strangely tense—so much so that even I, someone who merely existed to transport Astoria, someone completely out of the loop with my role finished, subconsciously straightened my spine. It was because the expression of Narcissa, who had been assessing Astoria, completely transformed.

"—Draco. Of course, you understand what it means for the Malfoy family to protect her—to protect Astoria, don't you?"

"Of course, Mother."

My feeling of being left out only accelerated. Astoria giggled at me as I stood there utterly dumbfounded, ready to turn into a stain on the wall at the parent-child exchange that apparently involved some aristocratic rules I couldn't comprehend. Her slightly troubled brow was quite endearing.

"Just as I thought, you didn't understand, Maria. I can no longer use the surname Greengrass. Miss Daphne's words were effectively a declaration of disownment."

"Eh... Eeeeeh?!"

"And for a noble family to take in a child without a surname signifies an adoption."

"EEEEEH?!"

"Hehehe, what shall I do? At this rate, I might end up introducing myself as Astoria Malfoy. How perfectly lovely."

Astoria, joking around with plenty of mischief, was bursting with energy and charm, perhaps as a reaction to my having seen her looking practically like a corpse earlier, but that wasn't the problem here.

"Hey, Draco. Are you... okay with this? At this rate, you won't be able to marry Astoria, you know?"

When I quietly drew the attention of Draco, who was glaring at his mother with a difficult expression, two very similar faces turned to look at me simultaneously.

"Yes, I can."

"Yes, he can."

"Eh?"

"Yes, we can. Not that we will, however."

"Eh?"

Receiving such an astonishing answer so casually from three aristocrats, I found myself unconsciously stepping back.

"Ultimately, it's just a temporary measure. If we want to marry, we simply annul the adoption and forge a new connection. Obviously, it would be problematic with a biological sister, but for complete strangers, well, it's a rare but known occurrence."

"Yikes."

Even though we were in the same wizarding world, I experienced monumental culture shock. In short—Draco had no intention of letting Astoria slip away, no matter what. Bloody Slytherin.

"We had an unnecessary interruption," ("Sorry about that!") "but let us get back on topic, Mother. You owe me a debt. I saved the one you love most. Next, it is your turn to help the one I love most."

My interruption was swallowed up by the snakes in the blink of an eye, and the parent-child stare-down resumed. However, both Draco and I knew. Narcissa—the woman named Narcissa Malfoy—

"—Very well. If you bring up debts and such, I have no room to argue."

Was extremely soft on her only son.

"Follow me, Astoria. First, we must do something about that unbelievable outfit. Now, I wonder if any of my old dresses are left."

Narcissa spun on her heels briskly. Then, she paused. She looked back, slowly narrowing her blue eyes at Draco.

"...Mother?"

"By the way, Draco. You have made a shockingly fatal and foolish mistake. —The one I love most is not just that man."

"............"

Leaving the frozen Draco behind (though Astoria kept glancing back worriedly at him), the backs of the two women disappeared into the depths of the manor. As for Draco, who had been left behind. —Draco was...

"Good for you, getting Mommy to say she loves you, young master."

"............Shut up, Potter."

As expected, Malfoy is best when he's this easy to tease.

After parting ways with Astoria and returning to Shell Cottage, everyone had already gone to bed. That made sense. After all, the time was approaching midnight. While feeling grateful for Bill's consideration in leaving the front door unlocked for us (even though it was protected by the Fidelius Charm, it was the thought that counted), Draco and I unceremoniously slept on the floor in the unlit living room.

"Draco."

"What is it."

Feeling a stiffness against my back that was different from the nights at Grimmauld Place, I rolled over. —What a beautiful face. It seemed my Grim Reaper had made the darkness his ally again today. What an extravagant man.

"Winky... she's all alone in that huge house now, isn't she."

"Yeah. She is."

"You said once... if I ever get tired, I should just think about things in terms of loss and gain. Yeah, you showed me a good example of that."

I averted my gaze from Draco and turned my face back straight up. The ceiling I stared straight up at was dark. I couldn't see a thing. —I didn't even know what I wanted to see.

"I'm tired."

Because I couldn't see anything—I covered my eyes.

"Dobby died because of me."

Draco didn't answer.

"...Aren't you going to say it like you did back then? That it wasn't my fault, that everyone is responsible for themselves? That Sirius, Cedric, Dumbledore—they all chose to protect me, and chose to die on their own?"

Draco didn't answer.

"Dobby died on his own."

Draco didn't answer. —Draco was smiling.

"No. Dobby died mercilessly, entirely, and completely because of you. —That's what you want me to say, isn't it?"

I was supposed to have closed my eyes. I was supposed to have covered them. Yet he was the only one I could still see. This angel-like Grim Reaper was the only one who wouldn't let me go.

"You want to be blamed, don't you? You're in so much pain you can't stand it, so you want to be beaten down until you're battered and in shreds. You want a different kind of pain. Because taking it head-on hurts too much. ...What a troublesome way to live, Potter, you wannabe hero."

"You're so cruel."

"I happen to be better at tormenting Potter than anyone else in this world."

We chuckled together. Echoing in this darkness, our laughter might have actually morphed into something incredibly eerie. Right now, I felt like I could become a much, much weirder creature than Luna.

Because, you're just so—so────

"You really are──so cruel."

Clinging to the chest of my beautiful Grim Reaper, I wept in frustration and regret.