DISCLAIMER: Sadly, this writer-wanna-be is not J.K. Rowling and does not profit from these little stories of hers, though it would be quite nice considering how much the education is costing her so that maybe one day she can be a real writer…
NOTES: Present day is in regular text while flashbacks are in italics…. ALSO: This is based on Kelly Clarkson's song "Haunted"… yes, I'm a dork, but I recently went on a dorkish ghost hunting trip and played this song over and over to get myself amped up. It gave me this idea so… if you want to follow along or perhaps understand it a bit better, I recommend listening to the song.
Beta: The ever wonderful, MoonyNZ
Haunted
Of all ghosts, the ghosts of our old loves are the worst. - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
A strong breeze whipped the curtains away from the windows, though they were only cracked slightly. The old grandfather clock down the hall rang three am, it's loud chimes echoing through the silent house. A cat prowled somewhere in the house, it's extended claws clicking lightly on the hardwood floor.
The only other occupant of the house sat in a bed in the room where the wind now blew, the covers bunched up around her waist as she curled back against the headboards. She had her arms wrapped around her raised knees, her head resting lightly against them as she sobbed silently into the night.
She could hear them now, the whispered taunts that the wind carried in. She could hear their voices calling out to her, begging her for the help that she was unable to provide them.
It seemed as if the days since that one big battle had flown by and yet she couldn't move from that one moment. She could still feel the hand upon hers, holding her tight. Shocked and broken, she knew she was dying inside.
The Order members gathered round the kitchen table, their bodies wrapped in bandages from the latest confrontation with the Death Eaters. Some nursed glasses of liquor in their hands, while others merely clasped their hands in front of them in silence on the table.
Hermione sat back against one of the walls with Harry on one side and Ron on the other. The silence was almost as deafening to her as the screams had been two hours prior in the muggle village. Harry reached over and clasped her hand in his own, giving her a light squeeze before pulling away.
Hermione glanced up at Remus sitting at the head of the table. He looked like a broken man sitting there. Tonks had been killed only two days before, their unborn child dying within her. His heart was no longer in the fight, she knew, and the battle tonight had shown her that he was more than willing to die as he had charged single-handedly into a pack of werewolves.
Hermione's eyes travelled around over the rest of the adults. Most looked as if they were ready to give up the fight, to give up everything Dumbledore had worked for, everything he had given his life for. Disgusted, she stood, casting a glare at everyone sitting around the table before walking out.
She went up to her bedroom and laid down. Staring up at the ceiling, she listened to the silence of the house, and then the creaking of the stairs as someone walked up them. The bed beside her sunk down as someone crawled in beside her.
Harry's arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him as they just lay there. The silence of the house stretched on, warning them of the time ahead.
She was elbow deep in soapy water at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes almost mechanically. She had lately discovered a need to do the little things the muggle way. It soothed her in a way, the perfunctory motions removed all unwanted thoughts of the battles and deaths from her mind.
Her eyes strayed to the kitchen window. The grass was dead now. The heavy fog coupled with the strange drought caused that. She lifted one of the plates from the water and stared at her reflection there.
The plate fell from her hands and shattered on the floor. She turned sharply, a frightened gasp emerging from her as she clutched blindly for her wand. She could have sworn she had seen a shadow move behind her in the reflection of the plate.
"Hermione…"
The name was whispered softly in her ear like a gentle caress, but no one was there. She saw the shadow move along the wall from the corner of her eye and spun, her wand dropping to her side as she stepped forward.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled the soft smell of sweat mingled with pine. A soft cascade of tears rolled down her cheeks, her knees giving out and sending her to the floor where she stayed.
"I feel you," she sobbed, her voice broken with emotion. "I know you're here."
A gentle breeze rolled over her, blanketing her as another whispered, "Hermione," came from beside her. The scent rolled up around her, enveloping her, comforting her.
"It's not fair," she cried. "Why?" She sat up suddenly, knocking the phantom smell away. "It's not fair! Why?"
The smell slowly drifted away on the soft breeze along with her whispered, "Why's."
She watched as Harry and Ron snuck away from the group trying to come up with strategies for the next battle. She stood up just as silently and followed them down the hall and into the library. Ron turned, startled, when she entered, a guilty look on his face.
"Hey Hermione," Harry greeted without turning around.
"What are you doing?"
"Wizard's Chess," Ron answered.
Harry turned to her, then, and gave her a grin. "Couldn't take it in there anymore, actually. Thought we could do with a break for a while." While Ron set up the board, Harry browsed the shelves and selected a book, handing it to her. "Want to stay?"
She smiled as she took the book, settling down into one of the larger armchairs. Harry pushed her over playfully and squeezed in beside her while Ron brought the game board over.
She leaned against him and read, listening to him and Ron call out directions to the pieces. Ron could still butcher just about anyone that went up against him, but Harry was slowly starting to get better. Ron now had to actually think before moving.
She didn't recall falling asleep, but she must have for she felt Harry moving over to the couch with her. She snuggled up against him, holding onto his shirt tightly when he settled her down onto the couch.
"Stay," she whispered drowsily, tugging on his shirt. She heard him chuckle and then push her on over to the back of the couch while he crawled on the couch beside her, automatically wrapping his arms around her.
She whipped her wand about angrily, throwing a vicious looking yellow and orange flame at the dummy. She growled and ended the flame before sending off a white streak that caused the inanimate object to explode. The resounding bang echoed in the room.
"Better?"
She turned to stare at Ron. His hair had grown longer and worn rather unkempt. His clothes were tattered and a tad bit too large for him now, but that was the look everyone was sporting lately. Without proper nourishment, they had all lost a significant amount of weight.
"Not really." She waved her wand and straightened the room back up before strapping the wand back in her holster. She patted the side of her leg reassuringly where it rested. She took the cup he held out to her and downed the water in one go before handing the cup back. "Thanks."
"We're worried about you, Hermione," Ron ventured, his voice laden with the guilt of talking about her behind her back with his family. "You haven't been the same since…"
"None of us are the same, Ron," she interrupted bitterly.
"Maybe not, but we're worried about you." He went to touch her on the shoulder but she, anticipating his move, turned away, out of his reach. He sighed sadly and tucked his free hand down into his trouser pocket. "Hermione, you know we all care for you, right?"
She almost wanted to groan in frustration. For the past month, everyone had tried to give her the same speech, which was part of the reason she had ended up moving out of Order Headquarters in the first place. "Yes, Ronald, I know."
"We just want to help…"
"There's nothing you can do to help," she bit, a little more harshly than she meant to. She sighed, then, remembering that he was her friend and was only trying to look out for her. "Sometimes, I swear I can hear them, Ron. I hear them crying out to me at night, I see shadows moving in my home and…"
"You could always move back in here," he said, ignoring most of what else she had said. "We can help you, Hermione. Perhaps someone can brew you a potion or something…"
"I hear them, Ron," she cried desperately, trying to get him to listen to her.
"I'll see if Mum can get you a Dreamless Sleep potion," he continued, ignoring her once more.
With a sigh, she turned from him and walked to the door. "You can't help me, Ron," she said, her hand on the door. "No one can. I'm on my own now."
She squeezed her eyes shut and involuntarily raised her hands to cover them. He caught them both, though, before she could succeed and lowered them back down to the broomstick. She whimpered softly while he merely laughed.
"Come on, Hermione," he chided softly in her ear, "you're the one that wanted to try."
"That's when I was safely on the ground," she cried, now gripping the broomstick firmly.
He laughed again, wrapping his arms tighter around her while continuing to guide the broom through the air. "It's alright," his voice soothed, his breath warm against her neck, "I've got you. I'm not going to let you fall."
She forced herself to relax, leaning back into his arms. Slowly, she convinced herself to open her eyes, gazing out at the horizon where the clouds were slowly starting to disperse to show the stars hiding there.
"See, it's not so bad, is it?"
She dared enough to turn her head to him. "I guess not," she admitted softly, staring at his smiling face. "It's rather…nice."
"Yeah, nice." His forehead came down to rest against her temple, his hand sliding to cover hers. "It's beautiful this time of night, is it not?"
"Absolutely breathtaking," she said softly, closing her eyes as she tried to discreetly inhale his scent.
"It's nice to be away from them all," he continued, meaning the adults back at Headquarters that had yet to stop moping around as if they had already lost the war.
"Quite nice." His head tilted slightly, his breath fanning down her cheek. Her lips parted slightly, her head moving with his. "Nice," she repeated, though this time it was much softer and emerged on a breath as his hand moved up her arm to cup her cheek.
"Hermione," he sighed, directing her head a little more to the side so that his lips brushed lightly against hers.
"Harry," she said, before pressing her lips firmly against his, letting his soft taste of peppermint and chocolate invade her senses.
She stabbed at the parchment with the quill, angrily sweeping it all aside. Growling angrily, she pulled out some more blank sheets and started on them, mapping out the battles that had already went by and possible strategies to ensure that the travesties that had happened then did not happen again.
The quill froze in her hand when her thoughts died off, her eyes staring unseeingly at the ink marks before her. A number of scents assailed her senses, the sudden flair of wind stirring up the pages she had pushed off onto the floor.
"Hermione…"
"Hermione?"
She shook her head slightly and looked up at Mrs. Weasley. She had thought someone else had whispered her name, but she must have been mistaken. No one else was in the room but Mrs. Weasley and herself.
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?" She forced a pleasant note to her voice, an insincere smile on her lips as she looked at the Weasley matriarch. "May I help you with something?"
The older woman allowed her eyes to travel over the mess on the floor around the desk. Hermione could see her hands itching to clean it up, but to her credit, she remained by the door. Instead, she folded her hands into the front pocket of her apron and smiled.
"I was wondering what you would like for dinner, dear. Remus managed to bring us in some potatoes and some green beans that he purchased from some muggles. We also still have some stew left from yesterday if you would prefer that."
"No, thank you, I'm not hungry." Hermione turned back to the sheets. "Give my share to Victorie. She needs them more than I do."
There was a slight pause in which Hermione heard the older woman making her way over. "Hermione, you can't keep yourself locked away forever. We can help you if you'd only allow us to." The woman moved her hand out to run it over Hermione's hair. "It's alright to feel pain…"
"Do you think I don't know that?" She had to fight hard to keep herself from growling. She was tired of them all trying to console her, tired of them all trying to understand something they wouldn't even begin to fathom.
She took a deep breath as she moved away from the Weasley matriarch and over by the window. "I have all these questions running through my mind all the time," she said softly. "Whether things could have turned out any different if we would have done something differently. Perhaps if we had planned better…"
She shook her head and stopped that train of thought. Turning to look at Mrs. Weasley, she continued, "Sometimes I swear I hear them, the dead. I hear their cries and sometimes I wish I couldn't feel at all. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be better to just be numb."
Before the other woman could refute, Hermione turned and walked out of the room, letting the door close quietly behind her.
Hermione wanted to raise her hands to block out the screams, but her hand was too busy flicking her wand and shouting out spells at the Death Eaters. Her hands and arms were covered in Ginny's blood from where she had tried to save the girl earlier. She had felt the exact moment when the life had left the girl, her body had went slack in Hermione's arms and her eyes had stared up at the night sky unseeingly.
The two sides had clashed on the front lawn of Hogwarts. The Order had heard that Voldemort was planning on taking over the school and had rallied the troops to try to stop him. Hermione had been convinced it was a bad plan from the get go, and Harry had agreed with her, voicing his opinion that it would be better to take the time to come up with a strategy. But the Order had ignored them and had set off without developing a plan.
Hermione blasted a spell off at a passing Death Eater headed toward Ron, yelling at her friend to run. He took her advise and headed back down the hill toward his father. She watched him for a moment before turning back to fight off an approaching Death Eater.
"Crucio," she found herself yelling. Harry had made her promise earlier that she would use whatever spell necessary to survive. She, in turn, got the same pledge from him.
She jumped over the Death Eater's body and ran up the hill. She had seen Harry move up that way earlier, but she had yet to see any other Order member follow to help him. She didn't want to think of what could possibly be up there waiting for him, but she had an idea.
She looked around as she topped the hill, her eyes searching for the familiar black hair and green eyes. She saw him just up the slope from her, near the Whomping Willow. He was shooting off spells as fast as he could as he faced Voldemort.
"Harry…"
His name came out as a sob, her eyes tearing up almost instantly when his wand flew from his hand. "Harry!" His eyes flew to hers even as she tried to run up to help him, her hand outstretched.
He smiled at her, then, just as the green light struck his chest.
Hermione stood on the top of the hill and watched the battle rage below her. Once again, the two opposing sides had met on the grounds of Hogwarts, the Order rushing in before coming up with a strategy. Apparently, they hadn't learned from their first mistake.
The faint sent of sweat and pine drifted in the air, swirling around her. She drew in a deep breath and started off the hill, her target already in her sight. She knocked down the Death Eaters in her way with well-aimed curses, her conscious no longer stopping her from doing whatever was necessary to live.
He knew she would be coming before she had even seen him there. He was waiting for her at the same place he had fought Harry months before, a sinister twist to his pale, thin lips. He had sent his Death Eaters away from the hill so that they would be alone on the hill beside the Whomping Willow.
"Hermione Granger," he drawled, "the most intelligent witch of the age, best friend of Ron Weasley, and loved one of Harry Potter. We meet at last."
She didn't return his greeting, merely tightened her grip on the wand at her side. She flexed her hand and stopped ten paces away from him. Her eyes narrowed to a glare, feeling the hate seize up within her.
"Manners, Miss Granger," he chided, stepping closer to her. "Shall we duel?"
"Yes," she said instantly, still staring at him.
When he gave a slight mocking bow, she saw something faint over his left shoulder. Her narrowed eyes slackened as she took in the shape. She thought…she could have sworn that it was him standing back there.
Voldemort's first spell nearly caught her by surprise and she barely brought up a shield in time to defend herself. She fired back at him just as quickly, almost hitting him. She thought she caught a look of amusement on his face, but pushed the thought away as she concentrated on the fight.
The spell hit her hand, causing her wand to go flying from her grasp. She turned to look at where it was laying down the hill and this time was sure of the figure standing there beside the stick of wood.
He smiled at her, his hand outstretched, beckoning her. The smile was almost instant on her face as her own hand raised out to him. "Harry," she whispered, a smile on her face as the green light struck her chest.
Fin.
Thanks for reading!
MiZZ AmAyA