Hermione made one last mental check of all her items, ticking off the list in her head to make sure she didn't forget anything. She pulled her large trunk out of the very neat yet creaky room she'd occupied in the Leaky Cauldron all summer long and down the polished wooden flights of stairs at the end of the corridor. The shaking caused by the passing trains in the building didn't affect her at all as she made her way down to the ground level.
"Good-bye, Hermione!" said Hannah Abbott, glowing in her third month of pregnancy. She and Neville owned the Leaky Cauldron as they'd taken over after the war, and now they were happy soon-to-be parents.
"Bye, Hannah!" Hermione waved, forcing a smile onto her face. The skin around her mouth felt tight when she smiled. She didn't do it often.
The door to take her outside swung open easily. Hermione received a few odd stares as she lugged the trunk along to walk to King's Cross Station, a small rucksack on her back. Trudging down the streets of London in the leftover summer heat with a large trunk that rattled loudly wasn't exactly very low-key. Hermione ignored the stares and pulled along, sweating in the sweltering heat. Even in a t-shirt, denim bermuda shorts, and trainers, Hermione wasn't exactly comfortable.
Better than wearing a long dress with layers underneath, she thought caustically. But then her stomach tightened and she realized what she'd just thought. Why did it even matter? It was a good point, that was all. But it wasn't just a point. It was a comparison Hermione could understand all too well. She could remember clearly the swishing of the layers of fabric around her legs as she walked, the discomfort it brought when it was a range of coloured fabrics and different textures. But she didn't want to remember- the whole point had been to force all those memories away. Avoiding them was the only way to stay in one piece after months of being in shambles. It all became too much for Hermione the more she thought and thought, and she was forced to sit down on a bench and breath.
"It doesn't matter," Hermione muttered to herself.
She'd told herself that for two months. She almost believed it sometimes, too.
Standing up, Hermione forced herself to keep going. She'd miss the train to Hogwarts if she didn't. King's Cross came into sight soon enough and she was relieved to walk in to the cool station. Platform nine and three-quarters was not far. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and was eventually standing between platforms nine and ten. Taking a calming breath, Hermione glanced around, and seeing no witnesses but other wizards and witches coming along, went through the bricks.
In a second she reappeared on the other side where a crowd of mothers and fathers kissed their children good-bye for either their first time to Hogwarts or return. A longing filled Hermione as she remembered when her parents had done the very same thing with her before she boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. She smiled to herself at one good memory and made her way through towards the train. People were boarding already and guardians gave their last good-byes.
Tearing her gaze away from the sight, Hermione put her trunk in the train, got on, and looked for an empty compartment. Once she was inside one she sat down and took off the rucksack. She'd tucked a book inside and her Hogwarts robes- while she'd been quite an emotional mess the past few months, she was no less the organized and prepared Hermione she'd always been. She pulled out the book and, to distract herself, opened it up and began to read. A few minutes after reading the same line over and over, a knock echoed through the compartment as another distraction that brought some relief to the witch. Hermione set the book aside and looked up. A pretty girl with auburn hair, obvious freckles, and a height that could have related her to Ron was smiling outside the doors.
Hermione got up to open the door.
"Can I sit in here? Everywhere else is taken, and you seemed the least horrid," the girl said in a confident voice.
"Go ahead," Hermione muttered, already retrieving the book again so she wouldn't have to talk to the girl. It was silent as the redhead sat down across from the bushy haired witch.
"I'm Vicky Frobisher, by the way," the tall girl added in a much friendlier tone.
Hermione remained silent, although she wasn't paying the slightest attention to the novel that was held in front of her face. She didn't converse much anymore either.
"So, what year are you heading into? I should have graduated already but my parents pulled me out during the war so I missed my seventh year," the girl tried once again. "I wanted to come back for my N.E.W.T.s."
Hermione almost flinched at the mention of the war. She said nothing yet still.
"You know, you could just say you don't want to talk rather than rudely ignoring me," Vicky said loudly.
Hermione had enough decency to feel slightly guilty for ignoring the girl.
"I'm going back as well," Hermione spoke finally, somewhat quiet compared to the stubborn, bossy tone she'd once embodied. "I missed my seventh year, too."
The tension seemed to lessen after she spoke.
"Oh. Well, maybe we'll have the same classes," Vicky said cheerfully.
"Maybe, if we're lucky," Hermione said with a fake cheer to her voice to make Vicky feel better.
The rest of the ride was quiet apart from the occasional flipping of a page as Hermione worked her way through the book. She went to change into her robes when they neared the castle, as did Vicky, and she held her book up once more.
"What are you reading anyway?" Vicky asked curiously.
"Sherlock Holmes," Hermione answered distractedly.
"Oh! I know him, isn't he some Muggle detective?" Vicky said brightly.
"... yes, he is," Hermione replied.
The last page came and she was forced to put the book away. Vicky seemed happy to have a chance to fully examine Hermione. She scrutinized the quiet witch for a moment before exclaiming, "You! You're Hermione Granger! I knew I recognized you! We used to be in practically all the same classes!"
Hermione felt the heat rise to her cheeks at being recognized.
"Oh, I didn't recognize you," Hermione replied feebly.
Vicky smiled, then spoke hesitatingly.
"You look different... I mean, when I saw you briefly during the war you looked different but.. now you look very unlike yourself."
Hermione glanced out the window and saw her reflection, it was nearly transparent, but she saw it. She didn't really have to look though, she already knew Vicky was right. Her usually warm skin had become pallid, could even be called sallow. She had lost some weight, making her cheekbones more prominent. The sparkling chocolate eyes she had once had were dull and clouded by a sadness she hid. Even Hermione's trademark bushy curls had lost their liveliness and the locks didn't seem to shine as much as they once had. She was still quite pretty in her own way, but the generally warm aura that had always surrounded her no longer shined bright. Everything had changed, or rather- she had changed.
"Yeah, it happens," Hermione said in a tight voice.
Vicky didn't bring it up again.
"I heard the N.E.W.T. year is supposed to be really hard," Vicky said seriously. "I'm a little worried, I hope I haven't forgotten everything. Last year it was hard to concentrate with the new teachers and.. the events going on."
"I'm sure you'll be fine," Hermione said. "I'm confident it'll be okay."
"I... I'm just hoping you'll be okay," Vicky admitted. "I just want to be friends."
Hermione felt guilty for trying to keep Vicky at bay. Vicky was sincere and just trying to be kind. She probably didn't have any friends, judging by her sharing a compartment with her despite tons of other compartments that perhaps had more fascinating people within. Hermione remembered what that had been like. And she felt even worse then for her mistreatment of the girl.
"I think we'll end up being good friends," Hermione told the redhead honestly.
Vicky grinned, and Hermione felt a smile form on her own lips.
When Hermione had arrived she noticed parts of the castle were still under reconstruction. It had really been damaged. She had a flickering moment of nostalgia and the moment she and Ron had entered the Chamber of Secrets came back to her. He'd encouraged her to destroy Helga Hufflepuff's cup.
"I can't," Hermione pleaded. She didn't want to. What would she see if she were to stab the cup?
"You can do it," Ron egged her on. "Harry and I have both destroyed one already, it's your turn."
Hermione licked her lips nervously and took the basilisk fang, gripping it like it was her lifeline. She kneeled down in front of the goblet and raised her arm, then quickly brought the fang down.
Before she could get the fang through the cup, thick black figures rose up from it. Arthur stood in front of her, glorious and haughty. Another figure stood beside him, Merlin. Lastly, Morgana stood off to the side, beautiful and her red eyes full of wickedness.
"Why would a man like Arthur love you, a simple girl who doesn't even deserve the gift of magic?" Horcrux Merlin asked sharply. "He, destined to be king of the greatest kingdom in history, love someone as insecure as you?"
Hermione's breath caught in her throat and her heart fell to her stomach.
"Stab it, Hermione!" Ron yelled.
"I always knew you were stupid and worthless," Horcrux Morgana hissed as she stepped forward. Hermione backed up, trembling. "I was hoping you'd die. You should have never escaped. You didn't even get away yourself! You're so stupid you needed help from the Prince!"
The thing that tore at Hermione was when Horcrux Arthur began to speak. She wanted to die.
"Why would I ever admit my love to you? You would have made a horrible queen-"
"STAB IT!"
"- and the kingdom would have laughed at you. I never even loved you, I just needed a girl foolish enough to believe it. And you were a liar. You lied about your identity. You never told the truth. How could I love a liar? You should have left quickly, you ruined history with your presence."
His words were like a monster ripping at Hermione's skin. She felt cold. Tears ran down her face. She couldn't even speak.
"You are not a queen. You will never be. I was glad you left. Now I can marry Guinevere, the most beautiful woman in the land. You are nothing-"
"No!" Hermione sobbed as she brought the fang down. Just as quickly as they'd appeared the smoke broke and a ear-splitting screech sounded. Ron covered his ears and Hermione winced. A large tsunami wave grew from the water in the chamber and Ron pulled Hermione up. They started running backwards towards the entrance as the wave came closer, Voldemort's screaming face rippling in it, it fell on them like a waterfall. Dripping with water, Ron gaped. He faced Hermione, who still looked traumatized. She was shaking, obviously not from the cool water, and her lips quivered.
"Let's go find Harry," Ron said slowly.
Hermione simply nodded, still in trembling shock, and they left.
The scene came to her while she slept every night. She couldn't get rid of it. Hermione ate little at the feast, nostalgia again hitting her when the first years were sorted. She remembered the worn down hat being placed on her head and waiting anxiously to hear what it had to say. She hall bustled with energy once more but it didn't feel the same. She went to bed early once everyone was allowed to go to their common room. Vicky's bed was right next to hers. As Hermione climbed into her bed Vicky came in.
"Thought you'd be having a good time down there," Hermione said while settling in, her back to Vicky.
"I didn't want to leave you alone."
"I'm going to sleep, Vicky," Hermione said sharply. "I'm not lonely."
There was a pause. Hermione felt like Scrooge.
"Thanks anyway," she muttered.
"I'm tired too, so.." Vicky trailed off, sounding a bit hurt. Hermione heard covers being pulled back and Vicky getting into bed. Hermione forced her eyes closed and one image was behind her eyes.
Her last view of Arthur Pendragon.
