Of Twisted Time, and Things Left Behind
Authors Note: This story dabbles in canon from Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows, yet pulls away for an alternate tale from Hermione's point of view. I too, was intrigued by the character of Scabior onscreen, and can't resist posing a "what if" to readers. JK Rowling owns the characters and Harry Potter's world, though I'm going to take 'em for a ride.
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Hermione looked down at her arm, the scarred markings of the word "mudblood" were set apart by the paleness of her skin. Gazing up at the mirrored vanity in her bathroom, she spotted the bottle of perfume Ron bought her several years ago, tucked neatly amongst others beside a box of tissues. She shook her head, willing herself to not think of him, let alone the torture she endured before he saved her at Malfoy Manor. Eyes watering with tears, anger and confusion muddied her mind as she rewound the evening's events, and she sagged against the nearest wall in defeat. Weeping silently in her cold, darkened flat, she wracked her brain for an answer to where she had gone wrong.
Two years had passed since the Great War at Hogwarts. A great many of her friends and professors had perished there in savage conflict. But she, Ron, Harry and a scant group of others had miraculously survived. The ties between the newly reformed Ministry of Magic and wizarddom were still fragile. But with Voldemort's annihilation, one could only hope for a more positive future – free from the evils of persecution, death and destruction. That had been Hermione's constant hope- for prosperity, a bit of normalcy, and most of all the love of Ron Weasley. After all this time, she had achieved everything she wished. That is, until he found the letter.
She had stashed it deep in the back of her drawer of unmentionables, thinking Ron would never find it. He'd surely never go peeking where he doesn't belong, she thought, I trust him, and he trusts me.
But that letter - received mere days before - recalled pain, promises of things long forgotten, and simple steps set in motion that put lives in jeopardy. Hermione held the letter - now crumpled and nearly torn in half during their argument – and balled it up, tossing it in the wastebasket. Ron left, never saying why he searched for it, never stopping to hear her explanation, nor her cries to stop or return once he disapparated to destinations unknown.
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Ms Clearwater/Granger:
I found a copy of The Daily Prophet the other day and saw a picture of you and your friends on the front. So you survived The Great War and Ministry reconstruction, and are doing well in London I see? I thought you would have died in the halls of your old school – the battle was the most brutal I'd ever seen. Well well, I think reintroductions and a visit are an order.
See you soon beautiful,
S
By the by, I still have your scarf – Strange, I can smell your scent on it to this day.
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Hermione spat a curse, letting tears stain her cheeks as she rose. How dare this man, who she came upon only twice in the most unfortunate of circumstances, intrude upon her life once again? How dare he! She had done nothing to invite his attentions. After two years, Voldemort's fall, and the eventual search and imprisoning of the Death Eaters, why now?
Control yourself Hermione, she pleaded. You have to calm down, and think rationally, strategically. What can you do next to avoid this man, and better yet, what can you do to bring Ron back, and convince him to listen to reason? She paced back and forth, contemplating actions, from genius to sublimely ridiculous that would cover her bases. Stopping in mid stride, an idea sparked for only a moment, and she couldn't help but jump with excitement.
"I've got it!" she squeaked, holding back tears of joy. She raced to her closet, rifling through to the back before pulling a dusty locked box from the furthest reaches. She laid it atop her bed, unlocking and opening it slowly; hoping the item for her salvation was still lying amongst the contents. Her hands shook as she dug, flipping through tickets from various events, haphazardly written love notes Ron wrote to her (Luv you Hermione…you're bludy brilliant!), and her letter of admittance to Hogwarts. Finally, her fingers found the ties that held the small velvet bag. She drew it open, and let its contents drop into her hand. I hope it still works, she mused. And I hope I can remember.
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Coming soon, chapter two! Please take a moment to provide me a review, as it'd be much appreciated. Thanks!