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ESMIE SAT ALONE ON THE BEACH, HER ARMS TIGHTLY WRAPPED AROUND HER KNEES AS SHE STARED OUT AT THE EXPANSE OF THE OCEAN.

The first light of dawn was painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, but Esmie seemed unaffected by the beauty around her. Her thoughts were clearly far from the tranquil scene before her. The waves lapped gently against the shore, a rhythmic, soothing sound that seemed to contrast sharply with the turbulence within her.

From the comfort of the cottage, Enzo watched Esmie with growing concern. Her silence since the previous night had been unsettling, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. He had noticed her detachment and the way she had withdrawn from the lively conversations and interactions they once shared. As he observed her, the soft morning breeze played with her hair, making it sway gently with each gust of wind.

"She's been out there since before sunrise," Luna's voice cut through the quiet of the room, drawing Enzo's attention. The worry in her tone mirrored his own, and he felt a lump form in his throat as he processed her words. He gave Luna a brief, anxious nod before moving decisively toward the door. His footsteps on the wooden floor felt heavier than usual, each step a reminder of his growing anxiety.

As he approached the beach, the sand underfoot was cool and soft, contrasting with the warm sunlight filtering through the early morning haze. Enzo's heart raced as he neared Esmie, who remained seated, her gaze fixed resolutely on the horizon. He felt a pang of guilt for not being more perceptive, for not reaching out sooner. He lowered himself onto the sand beside her, the sound of the waves growing louder as he sat down.

Esmie turned her head slightly, acknowledging his presence with a fleeting glance before returning her focus to the distant sea. The silence between them was thick, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"Esmie, are you okay?" Enzo asked softly, his voice barely rising above the whisper of the waves. He tried to offer comfort through his tone, hoping to break through the wall of silence that had grown between them. Esmie's response was a slight shrug, her fingers trembling as they traced the faded, jagged lines etched into her skin. The marks were a painful testament to Snape's betrayal and the emotional scars she carried from the past year.

Enzo's heart ached as he observed her distress. He reached out tentatively, taking her arm in his hands. His fingers gently traced the etched words, trying to convey his support through touch. "It's not true, Esmie," he said earnestly, his voice filled with a depth of feeling that went beyond mere words.

"It's what everyone believes I am," Esmie replied quietly, her voice tinged with a resigned sadness. Her gaze remained fixed on the water, as though seeking solace from the endless expanse.

"Not everyone. Not me. I know the truth, and this isn't it," Enzo insisted, his voice firm as he gently lifted her chin so she would look at him. His eyes searched hers, filled with a mixture of concern and affection. "I've missed you, darling," he added, his voice softening.

"You've been lying to me, Lorenzo," Esmie said, her tone cold and accusatory. The use of his full name was rare, usually reserved for moments of strong emotion—either irritation or serious discussion. Enzo flinched at the sharpness in her voice, recognising that her anger was not just about the present but about a deeper betrayal.

"This is about Bellatrix, isn't it?" Enzo asked cautiously, trying to address the underlying issue.

"She's your mother?" Esmie asked, her eyes locking onto his with a mixture of shock and hurt. Enzo nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his confession.

"I'm not proud of it, but yes. No one knows, except for the Malfoys," Enzo explained, his voice filled with regret. "Bellatrix has been in Azkaban for most of my life, which made it easier to keep the secret. My father has been largely absent, so I grew up with the Malfoys."

"That's why you never talk about your parents," Esmie said, her voice softening with understanding. "You could have told me, Sweets. I was your best friend."

"Was?" Enzo asked, a note of anxiety in his voice. The uncertainty in her tone made him fear that their bond might be shifting.

"I'm your girlfriend now," Esmie said gently, leaning closer and resting her head on his shoulder. The gesture was comforting, and Enzo felt a wave of relief as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

"You had me worried there for a minute, Mie, but you're still my best friend too," Enzo said, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and affection.

"I'm a little hurt you didn't tell me Bellatrix is your mother, but I understand why. I forgive you, Sweets," Esmie said, her voice warm but still carrying a hint of lingering pain. "Can I ask, how did you end up here? I thought you'd be back at Hogwarts by now."

"I was supposed to be. I came to the Manor for Christmas, and I must have been put under some kind of spell. When I saw you, the spell began to break. All I wanted was to run to you. Seeing Bellatrix hurt you and hearing your screams shattered the spell. I'm so sorry I couldn't do more to protect you," Enzo said, his voice laden with genuine remorse.

"It's okay, Enzo. We managed to escape her, and I'm going to— I'm going to be okay," Esmie said, offering a reassuring smile despite the lingering sadness in her eyes.

"I know you will, darling, but it's also okay if you're not okay right now," Enzo told her softly. Esmie nodded, a small smile forming on her lips as she playfully nudged him.

"Draco looked terrified of Bellatrix, but I thought he'd tell everyone it was Harry," Esmie said, reflecting on the recent events.

"Ever since Draco and Josie got together, he's been different. Less like himself," Enzo explained, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Hold on, Sweets. Draco and Josie? I haven't been away from Hogwarts for that long, have I?" Esmie asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Mie, it's been months since we last saw each other," Enzo said gently.

"W—What? I thought it was just Christmas," Esmie said, her voice trembling with disbelief as she tried to grasp the passage of time.

"Christmas was weeks ago," Enzo said softly. Esmie stared at him, struggling to reconcile the passage of time with her fragmented memories. She realised that during her time on the run, she had lost all sense of time.

"Oh, right," Esmie said, standing up and extending her hand to Enzo. He took her hand, allowing her to help him to his feet. They stood face to face, and Enzo cupped her cheeks gently before leaning in to kiss her. The kiss was filled with passion and tenderness, leaving Esmie's head spinning. She smiled into the kiss before pulling away.

"I love you, Sweets."

"I love you too, Mie. Now let's get you inside," Enzo said, his voice filled with warmth as he wrapped his arms around her and led her back to the cottage. As they walked inside, Esmie leaned against him, feeling a profound sense of comfort and safety.

Inside the cottage, the others were gathered in the kitchen, the atmosphere warm and inviting. Luna glanced up as they entered, her eyes taking in the cozy surroundings with a thoughtful expression.

"It's beautiful here," Luna remarked, her gaze sweeping around the room.

"It was our Aunt's. We used to come here as kids. Now, the Order uses it as a safe house—what's left of us," Bill explained, his tone tinged with nostalgia as he observed the familiar surroundings.

"Muggles think these charms keep evil away, but they're wrong," Luna said, her fingers lightly tapping the charms on the door. The charm glowed faintly, casting a protective aura around the room.

Esmie, still leaning against Enzo, felt a deep sense of relief and contentment. The turmoil of the past months seemed to fade, if only momentarily, as she reconnected with the people she cared about. The warmth and safety of the cottage, combined with the reassurance of Enzo's presence, gave her a renewed sense of hope for the future.

"I need to talk to the goblin," Harry said firmly as he entered the room, drawing immediate attention from the group. They exchanged glances, silently communicating their agreement, before following him up the narrow staircase to the small, dimly lit chamber where Griphook, the goblin, awaited them.

As they entered, Esmie's gaze was immediately drawn to Griphook, who was seated in a sturdy wooden chair, his eyes closed in contemplation. The faint scar on his cheek was evident, a stark reminder of recent events. Harry stepped forward, his expression both respectful and urgent.

"How are you?" Harry inquired, his voice steady but laced with concern.

"Alive," Griphook replied tersely, not bothering to open his eyes.

"You probably don't remember that you—" Harry began, but Griphook interrupted him with a knowing tone.

"That I showed you to your vault the first time you visited Gringott's? Even among goblins, you're famous, Harry Potter. You buried the elf," Griphook said with a hint of disdain in his voice, though his eyes remained closed.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, his voice quiet but resolute.

"And brought me here. You are a very unusual wizard. How did you come by this sword?" Griphook asked, his curiosity piqued.

"It's complicated," Harry replied, his eyes flicking to the sword in question.

"Why did Bellatrix Lestrange think it should be in her vault at Gringotts?" Harry pressed, his tone hinting at a deeper mystery.

"It's complicated," Griphook repeated, his voice maintaining its neutral tone.

"The sword presented itself to us in a moment of need. We didn't steal it," Harry explained, his gaze steady as he looked at Griphook. Enzo, who had been standing quietly beside Esmie, nudged her gently. Esmie turned to him, her expression reflecting a mixture of confusion and concern. She nodded subtly, indicating that she'd explain the situation to him later.

"There is a sword in Madam Lestrange's vault identical to this one, but it is a fake. It was placed there this past summer," Griphook revealed, his tone revealing a hint of intrigue.

"And she never suspected it was a fake?" Harry asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"The replica is very convincing. Only a goblin would recognise this as the true sword of Gryffindor," Griphook said, gesturing toward the genuine sword with a sense of pride.

"Who is the acquaintance?" Hermione asked, her curiosity evident.

"A Hogwarts professor, as I understand it, who is now headmaster," Griphook said, his eyes still closed but his voice tinged with disdain.

"Snape? He put a fake sword in Bellatrix's vault?" Ron exclaimed, his voice rising in surprise. Esmie, startled by the revelation, turned sharply to Enzo.

"Snape's headmaster?" Esmie asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

"There's a lot to catch you up on, Mie," Enzo said, his arm wrapping around her in a comforting embrace. He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and affection.

"There are more than a few curious things in the vaults at Gringotts," Griphook continued, his voice carrying a sense of intrigue.

"And in Madam Lestrange's vault as well?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

"Perhaps," Griphook replied cryptically.

"I need to get into Gringotts, into one of the vaults," Harry stated firmly, his determination evident. Esmie's curiosity grew as she wondered about the reasons behind Harry's request.

"This is impossible," Griphook said flatly, his tone unwavering.

"Alone, yes, but with you, no," Harry countered, his tone resolute.

"Why should I help you?" Griphook asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

"I have gold, lots of it," Harry said, his offer clearly intended to entice.

"I have no interest in gold," Griphook replied dismissively.

"Then what?" Harry asked, his frustration evident.

"That. That is my price," Griphook said, pointing towards the sword of Gryffindor with a decisive gesture. Esmie's eyes widened as she absorbed the gravity of Griphook's demand. She shook her head in disbelief, unable to comprehend why Harry would agree to such a trade.

"Okay," Harry agreed, his voice steady but tinged with resignation. Esmie stared at him, her mind racing as she tried to process the implications of his decision. She frowned deeply, her disappointment evident. Without a word, she turned and walked out of the room, followed by the others who shared her concern and confusion.

As they left, the weight of their situation hung heavily in the air. The decisions made in that room had far-reaching consequences, and the path ahead seemed fraught with uncertainty.

"What on earth are you thinking?" Esmie's voice was edged with frustration as Hermione, Ron, and Harry pushed past her, heading upstairs with purpose. She turned to Enzo, who offered a resigned shrug before they followed the others up the stairs.

"Are you suggesting there's a Horcrux in Bellatrix's vault?" Hermione asked, her tone sharp with concern as they made their way to the upper floors.

Harry nodded grimly. "She was absolutely terrified when she realised we'd been inside. She kept asking what else we had taken. I'm convinced there's another piece of his soul hidden there. If we find and destroy it, we'll be one step closer to defeating him."

"Hold on a second, Harry," Esmie interjected. "Without the sword, how exactly do you plan to destroy the remaining Horcruxes?"

Harry's face tightened with determination. "I'm still working on that part," he admitted, just as the door to Ollivander's room creaked open, revealing the elderly wand-maker seated in a chair that seemed too large for his frail frame.

Fleur stepped aside, allowing the group to enter. Esmie's heart sank as she took in the sight of Ollivander, his once sharp features now gaunt and weary. It was a stark contrast to the last time she had seen him, when she was eleven and had nearly blown up his shop in a frantic search for the right wand.

"Yes?" Ollivander's voice was weak but carried an undertone of courtesy. Esmie could barely recognise the man before her, so altered was he by time and suffering.

"Mr. Ollivander, I need to ask you a few questions," Harry said, his voice firm despite the circumstances.

"Anything, my boy. Anything," Ollivander responded, his gaze curious and slightly hopeful.

"Would you mind identifying this wand?" Harry asked, holding out one of the wands. Ollivander took it carefully, his fingers trembling slightly as he examined it.

"Walnut, dragon heartstring, twelve and three-quarter inches, unyielding," Ollivander said after a moment's scrutiny. "This belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange. Treat it carefully." His eyes met Esmie's briefly, conveying a warning without words. Esmie glanced at Enzo, who was preoccupied with gently twirling a strand of her hair, his attention clearly divided between her and the conversation.

"And this?" Harry asked, handing Ollivander the second wand. The room seemed to hold its breath as Ollivander took it and studied it with a practiced eye.

"Hawthorn and unicorn hair, ten inches, reasonably pliant. This was the wand of Draco Malfoy," Ollivander said, his tone measured.

"Was? Is it not still?" Harry asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"Well, perhaps not, if you won it from him. I sense its allegiance has changed," Ollivander explained cryptically, his gaze lingering on the wand.

"You talk as though wands have feelings... as if they can think," Harry said, skepticism in his tone.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. That much has always been clear to those of us who study wandlore," Ollivander said, his voice carrying the weight of deep knowledge and ancient tradition.

"And what do you know about the Deathly Hallows?" Harry pressed, shifting the focus of the conversation.

"It is rumoured there are three: the Elder Wand, the Cloak of Invisibility, and the Resurrection Stone. Together, they make one the Master of Death. Few truly believe such objects exist," Ollivander said, his voice tinged with doubt.

"Do you? Do you believe they exist, sir?" Harry's tone was insistent, demanding an answer.

"Well, I see no reason to put stock in an old wives' tale," Ollivander replied dismissively.

"You're lying. You know one exists. You told him about it, didn't you? You told him about the Elder Wand and where he could find it," Harry accused, his voice rising with intensity.

"He tortured me. Besides, I only conveyed rumors. There's no telling whether he will actually find it," Ollivander defended himself, his voice laced with defensiveness.

"He has found it, sir. We'll let you rest," Harry said, his voice cold and resolute.

"If it's true, and he has the Elder Wand, I'm afraid you really don't stand a chance," Ollivander said, his voice heavy with resignation.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to kill him before he finds me then," Harry responded, his voice filled with grim determination.

Esmie's heart ached as she watched the exchange. The weight of their conversation seemed to press down on her, making it difficult to breathe. Feeling overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation, she turned and walked out of the room. Her footsteps echoed in the hallway as she passed the others, her mind racing with thoughts of danger and uncertainty. Making her way outside, she breathed in the cool air, trying to clear her mind. The cottage felt suffocating, and she needed space to think.

"Esmie?" Enzo's voice cut through the quiet evening as he descended the stairs, his concern palpable. He found her seated on the beach, the moonlight casting a gentle glow over the waves that lapped rhythmically at the shore. The vast expanse of the sea mirrored the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind.

Enzo approached her, his footsteps soft on the sand. "What's wrong, darling?" he asked, settling down beside her and gazing out at the dark horizon.

Esmie sighed deeply, her eyes fixed on the restless water. "It's just... everything. It feels like there's so much happening all at once. It's overwhelming. I'm struggling to keep up with it all."

Enzo's hand reached for hers, his touch warm and grounding. "I'm here with you. We don't have to talk about it if you're not ready. Just let me be here with you."

Esmie managed a faint smile, appreciating the comfort he offered. "Thank you. I just need a moment of peace. Will you stay with me here for a bit?"

"Of course," Enzo replied, his voice gentle and reassuring. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. She rested her head on his shoulder, finding solace in his presence. They sat in silence, the soothing sound of the ocean waves and the soft rustling of the breeze creating a calming backdrop.

But their moment of calm was abruptly interrupted. The sound of heated voices drifted through the air from the cottage, breaking the serene silence. Esmie's head jerked up as she saw Ron and Hermione emerging from the cabin, their expressions tense and agitated.

"I don't understand why we're bringing them with us!" Ron's voice was sharp, his frustration evident. "How can you trust her? Every time we've been attacked by the Death Eaters, she's been there!"

Esmie's heart sank at the harsh words. The sting of his distrust was palpable, and she felt a pang of hurt.

Hermione's reply was quick and defensive. "Oh, Ronald, really! Esmie sacrificed herself to Bellatrix to save me. She protected me. How can you still believe she's one of them? She's on our side."

Esmie took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I am—"

Ron interrupted her with a scoff, turning away and heading back into the cabin. Hermione cast a sympathetic glance in Esmie's direction before following Ron inside, leaving Esmie and Enzo alone once more.

"He hates me," Esmie said, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and resignation. "He's never going to trust me again."

"He'll come around, Mie," Enzo said, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. He held her close, offering her a comforting embrace. "He just needs time to see things clearly."

"Yeah, maybe," Esmie responded with a shrug, feeling a heavy weight on her shoulders. She sank back down beside Enzo, both of them sitting in contemplative silence.

The quiet was soon broken by the sound of footsteps approaching. Esmie turned to see Harry walking toward them, his expression serious and focused. He reached out and gently touched her shoulder, drawing her attention away from her thoughts.

"Esmie," Harry said softly, his voice carrying a hint of urgency.

Her gaze followed his, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Hermione, now disguised to look like Bellatrix Lestrange, approaching them. Panic surged through Esmie, and she jumped to her feet, her fear evident in her wide eyes.

"No, no," Esmie stammered, her voice a frantic whisper as she clung to Enzo, who stood up quickly, his face a mask of concern. "It's Bellatrix!"

Harry's voice was calm and soothing. "Esmie, it's Hermione. It's not Bellatrix."

As the reassurance sank in, Esmie's panic began to subside. She took a few deep breaths, her heartbeat gradually slowing as she looked at Hermione, who now looked both apologetic and slightly amused.

"You scared me," Esmie said, her voice shaking slightly. "You look just like the real Bellatrix."

Hermione gave her a reassuring smile. "Sorry about that. We need to move quickly. You can give that to Hermione to hold, all right, Griphook?"

Griphook stepped forward, handing the sword to Hermione with practiced ease. She carefully stowed it in her bag, her movements deliberate and precise. The group then gathered in a tight circle, their hands overlapping in a gesture of solidarity and trust.

Esmie looked around at her friends and allies, her anxiety briefly overshadowed by the shared determination. Harry turned to Griphook, his expression earnest and resolute. "We're relying on you, Griphook. If you get us past the guards and into the vault, the sword is yours."

Esmie's apprehension flared once more, and she voiced her concern. "Are we sure about this?"

Before anyone could answer, Griphook placed his hand on top of the stack, signaling the start of their plan. With a sudden rush of sensation, the group Disapparated, leaving the comforting beach behind and entering the unknown.

As they reappeared in a new location, Esmie closed her eyes, her mind racing with apprehension. She prayed that Harry's plan would work, her thoughts filled with anxiety about the potential risks. The uncertainty of their mission weighed heavily on her, and she couldn't shake the worry that their endeavour might not go as planned.

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Esmie & Enzo 🥹❤️

Enjoy! Xo

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