TITLE: The Seven Horcruxes of Hermione Granger
AUTHOR: ponderer
SUMMARY: Hermione's soul is split in seven ways; but not in the way that you think. One shot.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. J.K. is the shit, hands down.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Whew. An idea within an idea. Read, review, love. Peace out, peeps.
i.
"Hermione, can you help set the table?" Mrs. Granger asked from her spot at the stove. She had been making her daughter's favorite meal from her childhood, ham and potatoes, while her husband was in the living room watching the TV. Hearing nothing from her child (young woman, she corrected), she repeated her question. She turned this time from her stirring and saw her daughter staring blankly at the tablecloth. She had a sad look upon her face.
"Hermione, dear, are you quite alright?"
"Oh, Mum, it's nothing," her daughter finally said, shaking her head of thoughts. Mrs. Granger watched her daughter while she set the table in an orderly fashion, first setting the plates in their rightful places, followed by the napkins, and ending with the silverware. She took about her duties of putting the hot pans on the table while eyeing her.
"Why don't you tell me about the letter Ginny sent you? Did she ask you to spend time with them this summer?" she began, hoping to get some information from her. Hermione was seventeen, and she knew something had changed dramatically with her. Mrs. Granger did not completely understand her daughter's world, but she tried her hardest to stay upbeat. She did, however, recognize the dark cloud looming ahead.
"Yes, if it's okay, I'll be going there in a few short weeks."
"I don't see why not. Your father and I were thinking of going away to the country then for a week or so. The office has been rather slow so we can afford to take the time off. He might be a tad disappointed though that you won't be able to join."
"I'm sorry, Mum. If you'd rather me stay and go with you, I can," Hermione started, but Mrs. Granger could see it was a reluctant statement.
"Oh, no, it's quite fine. I think a nice romantic vacation will be nice for a change," Mrs. Granger laughed. Hermione's face crinkled up into a grimace smile. "Really, darling, please tell me what's wrong."
Hermione breathed out deeply and sat down into her seat at the table. She tugged at her fingers, looking down at the cloth, where her mother could see tears forming in her brown eyes. "Mum, something's happened at school, in my world."
Mrs. Granger could sense the urgency in her daughter's voice and knew this was something more than her crush on Ron Weasley. She sat down across from her and tried to slow her heart.
"It's not something easily fixed. We've been finding out what Dumbledore has planned for Harry, and Ron and I have decided to help him finish what has started. There's a chance that it will take quite some time." Hermione took another sigh, hiding her tears. "I won't be returning to school in the fall."
"What? I thought being there was the safest place for you to be!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed.
"It was, until Dumbledore was killed," was her quiet reply. Hermione finally succumbed to her tears and broke down. Mrs. Granger heard her husband enter the kitchen quietly. She motioned for him to join. After a few moments, Hermione seemed to straighten up. "I don't like this, but I must, for your own safety. I need you to know that I love you so much. That I would do anything to protect you and everything you've ever done for me. And when it's over," she started to crumble at this, but regained her composure. "When it's over, I'll come for you."
"Come for us? Where are we going?" Mr. Granger started, eyes wide as he watched her daughter draw out her wand. She looked them in the eyes and they both recognized the love and determination in her eyes.
"I love you," she murmured first, then something they didn't recognize, and then there was nothing more.
ii.
"Hermione! So good to see you!" Mr. Weasley said, welcoming his second daughter into his warm kitchen. Hermione smiled as she handed her trunk over to the man of the house, pulling her purse up back over her shoulder. She could already smell Mrs. Weasley's cooking and she realized just how hungry she was.
"Hello, Mr. Weasley," she greeted back, reaching to give him a proper hug after he'd shut the door. He blushed to his ears, much like his son, and she smiled. She could see how Ron would look when he was his father's age and it made her ache to see it. "Mrs. Weasley!" she said, turning to the mother by the stove.
"Oh dear, it's lovely to see you once again!" Mrs. Weasley offered the best hugs, Hermione thought, reaching her arms around the mother's middle. She felt warm and comfortable there, like she could see herself staying there forever without anything bad happening. She pulled away too soon when she heard feet stomping down the stairs.
"Hello Ronald," she said as her best friend entered the room. If possible, Ron had grown another inch since she'd last seen him. He scratched behind his head in nerves and grinned.
"Hermione," he replied. It was an awkward pause and all the people in the room recognized it. Finally, Hermione had enough and reached out to hug him too. She was again comfortable, remembering the funeral and before tears could fall, Mrs. Weasley interrupted them.
"Ron, take Hermione's things upstairs, would you, to Ginny's room? I have you set up there, if that's okay? You two seem to get along so well," she explained as she watched her son reach down and begin to tug the trunk up the stairs. Hermione watched him for a moment, catching his eye, and seeing the same blush reach his ears. Blushing herself, she answered.
"Yes, we get along rather nicely."
"I thought I heard an intelligent voice here!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing herself into her friends' arms. "Finally, another girl!"
"A girl?"
"Where?" The twins exclaimed, popping into the kitchen, giving their mother a jump.
"Fred, George," Hermione laughed.
"Hermione, always good to see you. Did you receive our package?" Fred asked smiling. Hermione frowned at the thought.
"Yes, I unfortunately received it a few days ago. I do not see how a dreaming potion is of any use," she said.
"Oh, it's not just an ordinary dreaming potion. With a simple spell, you'll be able to dream about anything you want to its full capacity!" George started.
Fred took over the explanation. "Your dream won't be interrupted either; your dream will have a beginning, middle, and end!" Hermione had to admit, she was impressed by the twins. After all of these years, they had finally put their brains to good use.
"Sounds brilliant," Ginny admitted, grinning at her brothers. Hermione smirked too, seeing the way Ginny's eyes glazed over. She then knew she had an inkling about what her dreams would be about if she used it.
Mrs. Weasley let out a giggle that surprised Hermione, but it was unheard by the siblings. She looked over as Mr. Weasley set a romantic kiss on her neck while she stirred something on the hot stove.
As Ron clambered back downstairs, Hermione knew too what she would dream about.
iii.
"You're over-thinking things again," Harry quipped, watching Hermione repack her bag for what seemed like the millionth time. Hermione sighed, looking up at her best friend, The Boy Who Lived, or now, The Chosen One.
"I just need to make sure we're prepared, Harry." Harry nodded, looking back down at the stack of books he had in his own bag. "Would you hand me those?" She pointed to a stack of sweaters. "Thanks," she murmured.
"Are those mine?" he asked in wonder.
"Yes, I had them cleaned just yesterday when Mrs. Weasley didn't have me washing every piece of silverware she owned." Harry chuckled, then stopped when he noticed her glare. "Do you have anything else you want to bring along that has good use?"
Harry shook his head. "I think you have everything we need, Hermione." She nodded to him, mentally checking her list once again. "I just wanted to say, well, thanks."
"What are you talking about?" she murmured, not really paying attention to him.
"Because of all of the trouble you're putting yourself through for this. I know you would rather be at school…" Hermione stopped him with a hand in the air.
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be, Harry. You need us, and we'll be there, as promised. No thanks is needed." Harry blushed and looked down at his worn-out shoes.
"Well, then I guess I wanted to say thanks for something else."
"What's that, then?"
"For the whole Ginny situation. I know it hasn't been easy on her, and I know that you've helped her. And you've helped me too," he explained. Hermione smiled a small, sad smile.
"Harry, you should know by now that I only want you to be happy. I may not be happy with this particular choice because I think Ginny is a lot tougher than you think, but I understand at the same token. I honestly don't know what I'd do if I was in your situation." She looked thoughtfully at her own stack of books.
"You're not, though."
"What?"
"You aren't in the same situation. You can do something about it, you know." At her confused look, he added, "Ron." Hermione instantly flushed.
"While I do admit that maybe the idea isn't new, you need to understand that now isn't the right time. When this is all over, we can all truly be happy. Now we need to concentrate on the Horcruxes. I also need to re-read the Tales of the Beedle the Bard before the wedding. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go help Ginny make the beds for Fleur's family."
iv.
With Ron and Harry off searching for dinner, Hermione had the tent to herself. Relieved for the silence, she allowed herself to sigh and plumbed herself down into one of the chairs by the fire pit. It was chilly, the snow would be falling soon, and she let thoughts of a happier time enter her mind.
She dreamed of a large castle with bustling movements throughout the corridors, laughter, black robes with hints of red, blue, yellow, and green. She moved throughout the students, unnoticed, except for the two boys beside her, one with glasses and a scar while the other was tall and perfect. She was laughing at them, or with them she wasn't sure, but they were fine. They were walking and they would wave to their friends.
She dreamed of a dance, waltzing to beautiful music played by the Weird Sisters, wearing uncomfortable shoes that would have been too expensive, and a dress that would feel so tight, but the color was just right. She imagined the tall boy dancing with her, his roughened hands grasping hers as he wove her around the crowd, magical candles above their heads lighting the room.
She dreamed of sitting in a large room full of books. She would run her fingers down the cracked spines, resting her eyes over the titles, wondering what she would find in the words. She could smell the mold throughout the pages, and she inhaled deeply.
She dreamed of a large hut along the forest, a huge man pouring drinks around a tall table. There was laughter and drool from the big dog and random pieces of fur hanging from the ceiling.
She dreamed of a bed with curtains, red and gold, and large pillows that could mold to her body shape. She reached along the comforter and felt the smooth lines of silk beneath her fingertips. The sheets felt cool against her newly washed skin.
She dreamed of delicious food that would appear out of thin air. She could see herself looking at the tall boy who would be stuffing his face full of chicken and ham. She could taste the freshly baked pumpkin pie, wiping the stray crumbs off of her face before she could blush. Taking a large sip of the warm hot chocolate before feeling her full stomach.
She dreamed of a man with a long, flowing white beard and piercing blue eyes hidden beneath half-moon glasses. He would be the most magnificent man she would ever meet. He would have all of the answers, but would allow her to make her own decisions. He would want nothing but the best for his students. He would live and laugh and love. He would survive.
"Oi, Hermione! Look at this big fish Harry caught!" Ron exclaimed, striding into the tent, interrupting her warm thoughts. As her eyes catch onto Harry's scar, she knows that her dreams will come true one day soon.
v.
She was broken. She couldn't feel her tears or her hunger or her own pain. The snow, once her favorite type of water, beautiful against her house, for a Happy Christmas, for his laughter; she hated it now.
She wept and wept and imagined him in her dreams. She would scream his name in her thoughts, promising to be better for him, stronger, smarter. She swore she'd try to look better too, tame her hair, wear makeup, dress more feminine. She vowed to stop bickering and yelling and ignoring.
She wanted him back.
The only thing that kept her going was the boy with a scar and what he had to accomplish. She needed to be strong.
But on the inside, she was longing for someone else.
vi.
Hermione re-read her books for as long as she could remember. It wasn't because she particularly enjoyed the reading, but because it was her way of memorizing information; information she knew was vital in some way.
Reading fairy-tales had always been a guilty pleasure. It had started when she was little and her parents would read to her before bed. When she learned to read, she read to her parents instead. Then she became independent enough to read on her own, what she wanted, whenever.
Finding the library was the first and foremost her home. It was the place that held answers, questions, deep thoughts, and quips. Books were her salvation. When she arrived at Hogwarts all those years ago, the library was the first place she went to when she was able to have a spare moment. And it was everything and more.
Shelves upon shelves full of information she had yet to learn about. It then became her mission to read everything, whether she enjoyed the subject or not.
Her friends and peers made jokes about it, how her bag would burst at the seams, or how every time she had a question or problem, she'd run to the library. But most of the time, she could fit one more book in and well, she did solve most of her problems there. So, the joke was really on them.
During the hunt, she was afraid that the few books she brought wouldn't suffice. That her learning capabilities didn't have enough information to save their world. But, Harry and Ron depended on her and she tried her hardest to use what she had.
Frustrated by Dumbledore's secret messages hidden beneath the pages of Tales of Beedle the Bard was useless at first, especially because they were new. Ron told the stories to her when she asked, and she was afraid to admit how cute she thought they were (or how adorable Ron was when he told them which then spun her mind into overdrive thinking of one day him telling their children the stories).
She just knew there was more to it, or else Dumbledore wouldn't have left them behind for her to figure out. She knew she'd do it, but with so few resources at her fingertips, for once she had to go on her own musings. All of her reading was finally put to the test.
vii.
"Hermione, there you are," he said, relieved. Hermione looked up from her favorite spot in the library, covered in dirt and sick and blood. Ron looked much the same way. The place was deserted, too quiet, but very comforting in the dim light coming from the early morning light through the large windows.
"How did you find me?" she asked as he came to stand close to her. He tilted his way and began to smile. She laughed. "I guess that was a stupid question."
"Well, I figured you had some thinking to do and I knew this was the place to think," he answered. She nodded, looking again out the window. "He's fine, you know? He's with Ginny at the moment, talking everything over."
"Good, they need to talk about it all, now that they have proper time. We don't have to hide anything from anyone anymore. It's a strange feeling," she said, sighing. Ron was closer now; she could feel his deep breaths on her neck.
"About earlier…" he began after a long silence but Hermione interrupted him.
"We don't need to discuss it now, Ron. We have time, too." She smiled up at him but he frowned.
"I know I've been a git, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry about leaving…" he started up again, but she stood up and quieted him by placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.
"Ron, I'm in love with you. I want to be with you. I want to kiss you again and again and hold you just because I can. I want you to be mine, forever." Ron looked surprised, but gleeful. "But, I also know that come fall, I want to return to school."
"I need to help George… you know since…" he started but Hermione understood when he didn't finish. "I love you too, Hermione. And I want this too."
"Good." And then she kissed him like she had earlier in the Room of Requirement, and he responded with such a vigor that once again she was lifted into the air. This time though, they could take it slow and savor it. Her hands reached up into his hair and pulled slightly, aching to bring him closer.
He let out a low groan and she shivered in response.
Moments later, she slid down his body to rest her feet on the ground, although she gripped his hands for stability. "We have all the time in the world," he said in wonder.
Hermione nodded, relaxed, happy, and content.