Hello my lovelies!
So I had some major writers block/editor's headache dealing with what is going to be a MASSIVE Doctor Who story centering on the 11th Doctor. So I'm blowing off some steam by doing some easy and short writing. I got the idea from a Twin Exchange prompt for the month of October, but am not following all the prompts exactly, so I did not submit it to that contest. I had some troubles uploading, as this is my first story. So this is my second attempt at an upload. So here it is, what will be my first completed fan fiction. Reviews are welcome!
Hugs and Kisses,
zsarah.
The festivities that took over Diagon Alley on the days leading up to Halloween were always something that Hermione marveled at. As a child, new to Hogwarts with fresh and innocent eyes she thought that feasts were beautiful, magical, and splendid. As she grew up, the realities of war, prejudice, and violence touched every part of her life and she looked back on Halloween 1981 as the year it all ended and began. Even now, after the war was over an the dust settled, she looked back seventeen years to the night when a young couple, the parents of her best friend were murdered in cold blood by a psychopath who would then spend seven years tormenting herself and her friends.
No, Hermione was no longer that innocent child, looking up at the gilded new world that surrounded her. She felt almost ill looking at all the people bustling about and celebrating on the anniversary of the night when her best friend lost everything. She almost scoffed aloud at her mental melodramatics and did her best to pull herself together as she felt eyes on her. Compared to some, she had made it out of the war relatively unscathed. Sure she had her scars; hidden behind layers of clothes and glamours, and had lost friends, but she had her life and her health to be thankful for. Her sanity and peace of mind not so much.
It was strange being away from Hogwarts, having given up the chance to go back and finish. She had tried to go back and help with the repairs over the summer, but the moment she stepped on to the grounds four weeks after the battle it all came back to her in sudden and violent clarity. When she had seen the crumbled walls and the thestrals gathered around the grounds, when she smelled what was left of the smoke and blood, it was simply too much, and she had left at almost a run before disapparating from just past the wards. After an owl to Minerva to say she would not be making it to the school that day, she sat in the hot shower of her parent's old house trying to scrub the scent of war off her skin. She scrubbed at the scars on her arm with a rough cloth; spelling out the word that had been the catalyst behind so much pain, as if soap and water would make the cursed word disappear.
She tried again four more times to get into the castle proper in the next two weeks, each time getting a little closer, staying on the grounds a little longer, but never long enough to get over the maelstrom of emotions that flipped between fear, anger, and sadness. She never stayed long enough to push past the fight or flight response that sprung up every time she saw the towers. Once, she tried to floo directly to the Headmistress's office but the moment she came out of the flames, and was in the familiar environment, the memories came back even stronger and it was a good thing Minerva was as quick with her wand as she was, otherwise the new Headmistress would have been a smear on the wall, next to the beloved paintings hanging behind her desk.
After that embarrassing and dangerous display, she stopped trying to get into the school, and accepted her sixth year final results as her NEWT scores, same as most of the others who should have graduated the past year. Many had taken jobs that would keep them either as far from or as close as possible to action that reminded them of the war. Harry and Ron were entering into Auror training; though she was sure that Ron wouldn't last, he had too much responsibility in the family now. Neville and Luna both left the country days after the final funerals, Neville to do independent research with an American wizard in Brazil, and Luna giving up on school to travel the Nordic region. From the letters Hermione had got from both of them, the isolation was doing each of them some good. Lavender Brown was still in Saint Mungo's. She was recovering well from Greyback's attack, and from what Pavarti had told her, she was in as high of spirits as could be expected. Seamus Finnegan had moved to Canada, to work in a pub in the northernmost wizarding community in the country and Draco Malfoy was serving out house arrest with his mother in a small condo in muggle London. Everyone was recovering at their own pace from the trials they had faced, and Hermione could look on that with a grim smile.
As she reached the end of her walk through the Alley, and arrived at her destination, she looked up at the bright countenance of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. As she walked through the door she looked that the one place that was a contradiction in terms of how it was changed by the post war world. The displays were just as bright and happy, a blend of brilliant colours and loud designs, the merchandise was just as new and innovative some practical and some problematic, but the now sole proprietor's smile was not as bright, his words though seeming to have the same joviality, were edged in a painful solitude and grief.
She looked at George Weasley in his bright robes, false smile, and manic despair, and mourned alongside of him. They all had faced losses, Hermione's parents happy but childless locked away in their minds in Australia, never to return and George's twin, six feet under, never to laugh along side his best friend and partner.
George was speaking with a young couple with a son that was a few years too young to attend Hogwarts, the young boy seemed fascinated with the bright candies that would transform him into a canary for anywhere from 30 seconds to 10 minutes. He turned to her and gave her a smaller, truer smile from across the store as he excused himself from his conversation and motioned his shop assistant over. The pretty blonde woman moved over and seamlessly took over the conversation with the customers. With another quick smile he took of his gaudy robes to reveal a less neon, but still bright maroon three-piece suit underneath. Hanging the robes over the counter he walked towards her, long legs covering the distance between them quickly.
He met Hermione in the middle of the store and placed a hand on her shoulder in greeting as she gave a small knowing smile in return. As he pulled the door open and stepped to the side, the small true smile graced his lips again, "Ladies first." His soft voice was just as charming as it always had been and it was a nice reminder that not everything changed with war, even in mourning George would always be charming and flamboyant. As they walked back into the Alley, Hermione felt the eyes of everyone notice them and was sure that there would be an article about this in the gossip columns in the morning paper discussing everything from her jeans to her hair to the possible relationship with George. It was like this every week without fail, thankfully where they were going, no wizarding reporter would follow them. As they entered the Leakey Cauldron the scent of smoke, floo powder and fire whiskey surrounded them, and as they exited into London proper, the smell of exhaust and fried food greeted them.
They turned the corner into a dead end Alley, two blocks from The Cauldron, and George swept her up into hug and her arms went around his waist automatically. His tall, sturdy frame enveloped her smaller one; his chin resting on head, his arms covering her shoulders, her fingers stroking the small of her back and her nose buried in his chest. It was a comfort for both of them before what would be another emotionally draining Therapy Thursday.
"It was another tough week, and now we have to talk about it." Hermione could feel his voice rumbling against her chest full of grim humour. "Harder than last, not as bad as the one before." He shuddered. "I miss him so much. We lost too many. On all sides, we're the lost generation Hermione, just like Edwin says, so many families and people torn apart. We got off easy. I only lost my brother and you only lost your sanity." His more cynical side making her chuckle into his suit jacket.
"I didn't loose it, just misplaced it for a spell. I'll find it again." She pulled back from his hug and placed her hands on either side of his face. "It's nice to not hide it all from everyone. I can be honest about how broken I feel; how broken I am." She turned her face away, and he placed his fingers under her chin to bring her eyes up to meet his again. She took a shaky breath and continued. "I can't even go into the school that I spent 6 years of my life at. I've been able to hold it together in front of strangers for six months, but I don't think I can do it much longer. I don't want to do it much longer." She sighed, "I'm just so tired."
George pulled her back into a hug. " I understand." His soft voice comforted her, "It's a wonder either of us can function. If it wasn't for you and the group, I don't think I would have made it through the first month. We've made it six. We're still alive and semi-productive members of society. I have moments of happiness, and its getting better. It will get better for you too." She almost scoffed, "Not right away, and you might not ever be the same, but eventually you'll be better. You might not be able to ever go back to the castle, but you'll get a job and change the world. You might not stop hurting, but you'll feel something besides pain and cynicism." His words came from a place of familiarity and trust, and if it were anyone else, she would have brushed them off, but it was George and beyond all else, he was honest.
He pulled away from the hug first this time and pulled out one of the two pocket watches he always carried. This one had an F engraved on the back with a starburst design surrounding it. He popped it open and considered the time. "We're going to be late. It's group day, and Maria is worse than McGonogall when it comes to being late to class." Hermione gave a watery chuckle, "When did you become me, here I am willing to be late and here you are dragging me along like a prefect." With a sigh of resignation she gave in, "I hate group day,"
"No you don't, you just hate that it's on Halloween." His reply made her let out a bark of laughter "Lets get going."
They sat in a circle around the conference table in the offices of Maria and Edwin Jenkins. The older couple were a pair of squibs who had offered up their offices and services to the wizarding world after the war. Maria was a psychiatrist who worked specifically with veterans and trauma victims and Edwin was a therapist who worked with addicts and young offenders.
The group around the table varied along the whole spectrum of blood status and house- lines. There was Theo Nott and Terence Higgs from Slytheryn, Marcus Belby from Ravenclaw, Leanne Laughland and Tamsin Applebee from Hufflepuff, and George, Dean Thomas and herself from Gryffindor. All of them bore scars from the war, some you could see and some that were buried in their psyche, they all came from different backgrounds and they all needed the help the Jenkins provided desperately.
Maria cleared her throat as they all settled themselves in with hot tea and biscuits. The offices were closed to all of the muggle staff and patients on Thursdays, and as the last Thursday of the month, this was the time when they got together to share, mourn and celebrate the small hurdles they had overcome.
"Hello everyone," Maria greeted them all. Her steel grey hair hung loose around her face and her gentle smile calmed some of Hermione's anxiety surrounding this day. Maria's hand rested on her husband's shoulder as he sat next to her with the same gentle look on his face. They truly were an amazing couple, willing to help piece back together this broken generation before them.
Hermione and George had been meeting with Maria in back to back appointments since George had to break into her house and through her wards after she had been out of contact for 10 days. George had found her curled up on her bathroom floor one month after the battle, holding a photo of her parent's, catatonic. George had tried to get her attention, but after everything she had been through, being unable to go back to the school, and being unable to restore her parent's memory, she lost touch of reality. George had taken the photo from her, and put her under the cold shower. That had brought her back quickly. And after a quick change and some hot tea, they decided they needed each other.
That night was the first of many nights where they got blackout drunk on cheap muggle whiskey together while they considered their mental health. After a week of drunken confessions and bad hangovers they decided to search out the muggle world for professional help. A week after that they found the Jenkins and were their first wizarding patients. Soon others followed and their Thursday night Therapy group was formed.
Hermione was brought back to reality from her flashback to hear Maria prompt conversation by asking, "How was everyone's week?" This was the fourth such group night they had all participated in together and for the first time, Leanne spoke first.
"I went to Diagon Alley on Monday. It was early, so there weren't many people there…" She trailed off; Leanne was a halfblood whose muggleborn mother and aunt had been killed in an attack on the alley. They had been butchered in front of her, as she hid behind an overturned vendors cart. This would have been the first time she had been back to the scene of the crime since it happened just over a year ago.
"The anniversary last month was difficult, I was going to go back then, but I figured there would be a lot of people there to pay their respects to everyone who died and I didn't want to have a breakdown in front of them." Her voice was trembling. "Katie came with me, it feels silly these days to talk about houses, but she is as brave as the Gryffindor that she is, and as loyal as the Hufflepuff that I am. I don't think I would have made it through this war without her."
Leanne's statement was true, they had gone into hiding together after the massacre in the Alley and they both came back to fight in the final battle, coming out relatively unscathed, and neither would have been likely to make it out of the war if it weren't for the other.
Knowing Leanne had talked herself out, Edwin turned to Theodore, "Theo, how are you doing this week. Its been six months since the war finished and it is an important anniversary to remember." Theo gave him a glare, with no heat behind it for singling him out. Edwin's experience with young offenders made him the perfect match for Theo, who as a child had been groomed to take his father's place in the Dark Lords ranks. That he betrayed his family and stayed out of the fight was something that put him between a rock and a hard place and the young man had ended up taking the stand against his family for the crimes of both his father and his uncle in the war. He was now the sole overseer of the Nott family's holdings and his younger sister's guardian.
"Honestly, this week has been hell. This whole month has. It's been two months since I've seen Lizzy and I feel helpless. I still have nightmares about the war. I keep going over the way things could have gone differently. I remember the people who were brought to the manor and I keep wondering if I could have helped them... I had a flashback last week when I went into the kitchen. I remembered seeing a bloodstain on the floor just in front of the informal dining set, and I had no idea who it belonged to. A muggle, a wizard, I didn't know and I couldn't tell. That was the turning point in my mind. At fifteen I had to confront the fact that my family were monsters and had been training me to be just like them." Theo's eyes were closed. " I stayed away from the manor for three days after that flashback. I only went back last night and even then I could hear the screams of the people who had died in that blasted house in my dreams." He took a deep breath, "So many people died for no reason other than who they were." He seemed to crumbled at another reminder, " The Aurors are still excavating the fucking woods, finding new bodies every week. Two adults and a kid so far since Monday. I had no idea what was going on in my own house until I was fifteen, and they were trying to brainwash me into thinking it was okay." Hermione could see tears running down his face. "They've found 54 bodies in total now. 54 people who died in my house and I didn't do a damn thing to stop it."
Edwin put a hand on the young mans shoulder and it seemed to calm him down. "I'm done now." His voice cracked at the end.
George sat up straighter and in a soft voice began to speak. "It seems I'm moving two steps forward and one step back. I'm glad I'm moving forward but this week was pretty bad. I only thought about blowing myself up once, so the meds seem to finally be working right." He smiled a little as he said this and Hermione reached under the table and grabbed his large hand in hers. "I'm getting better at faking being okay to my family. I remember just after the battle, they all hovered around me as if they expected me to off myself. It wasn't until they let up thinking that I was getting better that the numbness wore off. That was when things got dicey." He looked over at Hermione, "I'm getting though it though. I thought of Fred this week, and I didn't break something. I just though of how he would have loved to see the products I had finished, and how he would have loved what the store has become. The things we put on hold until the war was resolved, I've started working on them again, and it actually made me smile. I thought of him and didn't see him dead, I just thought of him."
Hermione knew how big this was for the man next to her. Others may have wondered about his tiny success, but not the group gathered around the conference table in a muggle office building. It didn't matter how small the hurdle was, just that it was cleared.
As the afternoon turned into evening, everyone shared. Terrence rejoiced over how he had heard from two of his sisters in France after the whole family had split up across the globe in order to avoid being forced into the war. They were believed to be the last of the once large Higgs extended family. Tamsin told them that she was thinking of buying herself a new broom and teaching herself how to fly with the one leg she had left. Marcus said that he would be missing the next couple of appointments to go to America to spend time with his mother's family, as they were the only ones to make it through the war; he would be back for the next group night.
Hermione thought about sharing at that point, but she didn't have any successes this week. So she let Dean talk about how he had been thinking of going to Canada for Christmas to seen Seamus. He was living with his mother and step family, but because they were muggles, they didn't fully understand everything that had happened and why he had to ward his room every night just to feel safe enough to take a sleeping pill and rest for a few hours before his nightmares and anxiety would wake him.
At this point Hermione felt obliged to share, just to get things off her chest. "I hate Halloween." With that dramatic opener she continued, "Everyone is so ready to celebrate and to dress up and to feast, they see Halloween as a time of new beginnings, but all I can see is the day of the dead. Starting with James and Lily Potter and ending with our whole group, friends and family. I feel like I'm only living a half-life, and yes, I'm coping, barely. I don't break out in a panic attack when I wake up to a strange noise, I don't drink to dull the pain, mostly because if I did that the bloody press would tear me apart." She realized then what was truly bothering her and what she really did need to share.
"I hate that what I wear, what I do, and who I spend time with is what people want to read about. I hate that anytime I leave the Alley with George, they turn our friendship into some sort of dirty joke. It's the only pure thing I have left." She paused considering how much she wanted to put out in the open. "I'm tired of being Hermione Golden Girl Granger, the one whose business is everyone's business and who isn't allowed a modicum of privacy." This time it was George who took her hand under the table, trailing his thumb over one of the small scars on the back of her hand. "I want to be able to wear a short sleeves in public without Rita fucking Skeeter commenting on my heavy glamours, or my vulgar scars, or pitying me. I'm just so tired of it all, and I don't want to hide or care any more. Just before coming here I was told something that just now sunk in. It will get better. And in this case, I'm going to take control of what I can and make it get better."
They went for drinks together after Therapy Thursday. Every week they would all meet after Tamsin's evening appointment; a mismatched group of wizards and witches in a muggle bar just a few blocks down from the Jenkin's offices. Some weeks it would just be a pint each, and some nights they would take advantage of the hotel across the street to sleep off their liquor. Tonight seemed to be one of moderation as they all settled down in a cozy booth with a pint of draught each.
They truly were scarred a shattered group. Tamsin with only one leg, Theo, Terrence, Marcus with survivors guilt, Leanne, Dean, and herself with PTSD plus, and George with unipolar depression. That was the first thing they had shared with each other at the first group night; the diagnosis's and medications that Maria had given them after evaluation. It was with a cynical mind they could find humour in their own flaws. Sometimes one of them would update the others on their disorder or prescription and it had become almost a joke in their little messed up group.
Like the time that they all got shitfaced on expensive Russian vodka in celebration of Theo telling them that his manic episodes were not a symptom of Bipolar I, and when Hermione went two months without a psychotic episode they left the bar and bought a giant cake at an open late bakery, and ate it with their hands in Hyde Park while drinking cheap wine out of the bottle. It wasn't the healthiest way to deal with mental illness but it worked for them. It worked for their ragtag group of misfits and crazies.
As they sat at their booth, talking about nothing important Hermione thought about how unusual they really were. In their group they had two Snakes; a pureblood heir and a wealthy merchants son, one Raven; a mathematical genius, two Badgers; one quafflehead from money and one from scholarship, and three Lions; a prankster, an artist, and herself. But somehow they were all friends, they had been forced and maneuvered into their positions in the war, but they had all come out the other side alive and free.
George apparated Hermione to her back garden after their night out. Her parents old house loomed over them. It was too big for just her, but she couldn't bear to give it up. Most nights she stayed there sometimes alone, sometimes with company, some nights she spent at Grimmauld with Harry, some at the burrow and some nights on George's couch. It was unusual, but for Hermione it worked keep the demons away.
George's arms were still tight around her after arriving, and in the light of the garden lamp, the light buzz from the night of drinking was playing in her head. After getting some of the pent up emotion off her chest, Hermione felt lighter and freer than she had in months.
"George, I don't want to hide any more." The cool night air was blowing her hair into her face as she looked up at him. She took her wand out and tapped it on the top of her head and the glamour she wore trickled off of her. She knew he had seen her scars before, all of her friends had, but this was symbolic to both of them in some way they didn't yet understand. Her jeans and jacket covered most of her scars, but she knew he could now see the thin pink scar under her jaw line and the spattering of white lines across her left cheek. "I'm not going to hide them anymore, damn the papers, damn people's tender sensibilities, and damn Rita Skeeter." In her aggression, the ends of her hair began to spark with blue static.
George just gave her a small smile, "I love seeing you like this; alive and feisty. Like the tiny little prefect who would give me and Fred hell." He seemed to choke a little on Fred's name, but carried on, "It brings back the simpler times when we only had to worry about detention, and pranks, and homework, and we were all still innocent and naïve. In a way I miss that," he paused considering his words, "but I am also glad in some awful way for the knowledge that this is how the world really is. We won't make the same mistakes again, that's for sure." His words seemed almost reverent, like he was making a vow. His eyes focused on her. "Hermione, do you mind if I stay tonight, I don't think I can deal with being alone right now." It wasn't the first time he had crashed in her home, it wouldn't be the last, and the company made the large house feel less empty.
After all the times when Hermione had felt the same way she simply gave him a watery smile as if to say, why do you even have to ask. She took her wards down with a sweep of her wand and opened the door for him, "Gentlemen first." He gave her a thankful grin and a small chuckle in return as she followed him into her home and warded the door behind her. They made their way up to the first floor, and hugged each other tight.
"Goodnight, Hermione." His words were whispered into hear hair.
"Goodnight, George." Her reply was muffled in his chest.
Things were changing. They were healing; slowly but surely things would get better. Maybe one day they would cling to each other in a different way, but for tonight they separated, Hermione going to the master suite and George to the guest room just as they had done many times before.