DISCLAIMER: I'm only gonna say this one time: I don't own anything that you recognize from JKR's books. No exceptions.
DISCLAIMER #2: I didn't write most of the original story or think up the concept. My cousin did (she goes by CallistaRose on the site). However I have her full express permission to do this rewrite.
This story picks up during the Battle of Hogwarts. It's a Harry/Hermione pairing, true to JKR's recently revealed wishes, so Hermione and Ron never kissed or anything. In this story, Fred, Lupin, and Tonks are still around because I didn't have the heart to kill them off (also the last book hadn't come out when my dear cousin wrote the original version).
To the Moon and Back—Chapter 1: Prologue
Voldemort had allowed them an hour's reprieve from the battle, and all were gathered in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The cup and the diadem had been destroyed, and the final Horcrux remaining was the snake Nagini. The dead were laid out in the middle of the room when Hermione had entered with Ron and Ginny after surveying the front lawns for the injured and dead among the Hogwarts defenders. Hermione couldn't look at the
dead, didn't want to know exactly who among them had perished in the first wave of battle.
She and Ron followed Ginny to the corner where Madam Pomfrey sat with a large crowd of the injured, treating as many wounds as possible. Hermione approached quickly, keen to take her mind off of all she had been through and all the uncertainty that loomed ahead. Adding to her anxiety was Harry's absence for the past half hour.
"What can we do to help, Madam Pomfrey?" she asked as the school nurse worked to mend a gash across Ernie MacMillan's chest. Ernie was very pale and seemed not to notice them.
"Yes," she said at once. She pointed a finger of her free hand at Ginny. "You, come here, take this bandage, and put pressure on this boy's wound. I want to stop him bleeding out while I heal it. You two, run to the potions storeroom in the dungeons. I am nearly out of dittany, powdered unicorn horn, and murtlap roots. Miss Granger, if you see anything else that might be of use, please bring it."
At once, Hermione and Ron set off at a sprint for the dungeons. Their path was clear and eerily quiet. The lights had been extinguished as they drew nearer to the dungeons and both pulled out their wands to light the path.
"D'you reckon Harry is still upstairs?" Ron panted as they rounded another corner. Hermione didn't answer. They had last seen him running toward the Headmaster's office with a vial of Snape's memories, but Hermione had the stomach-churning feeling that he would go to the forest. He would want to end the loss of lives on his behalf, and he would want to do it sooner rather than later. She felt her eyes begin to swim with tears and felt glad that Ron was beside her and not looking at her.
"Er, yes, I haven't seen him come down." Even as the words left her mouth, Hermione remembered that Harry had his invisibility cloak with him. Her heart sank. If he decided to go to the forest, would he find them first to say goodbye? Hermione wasn't sure.
They reached the storeroom outside of the Potions classroom and unlocked it, hastily gathering as much as they could carry. Hermione conjured a large basket with her wand and began to fill it with the supplies Madam Pomfrey had requested. She also threw in a stack of clean, white straining cloths that could serve as bandages, mandrake root, and crushed knarl quills before she and Ron each took one handle of the basket and started back up the corridor toward the Great Hall with their wands held aloft in their free hands.
The journey was silent until they were three quarters of the way back, when a thought struck Hermione. Puffapod leaves! She'd seen some down in the storeroom, and remembered Professor Sprout saying back in their first year that while the pea pods were what the plant was known for, chewing the leaves was a powerful anti-inflammatory with analgesic properties. She stopped abruptly.
"What?" Ron asked in bewilderment.
"I've just remembered puffapod leaves, you know, for pain relief. I saw some in the storeroom, I'm going back. Can you manage the basket?" she said. His face conveyed apprehension, but he shrugged and hoisted the heavy basket of healing supplies into his arms. He looked apprehensive for a moment.
"Should I go with you?"
"No, I can manage," she said. "I'll meet you in a few minutes." With that, she turned and dashed back down the corridors, leaping down several flights of stone steps. It wasn't long before she reached the storeroom, threw open the doors, and began stuffing her pockets with the glossy lime-green leaves. Hermione glanced around the room once more to ensure she had forgotten nothing else and, satisfied with herself, pulled the doors shut behind her and sprinted back up the path to the Great Hall.
Halfway down a corridor, she was knocked to the side with such force that her feet left the ground and her body slammed into the cold stone wall to her left. A searing pain at her temple told her that she'd hit her head, and she crumpled, dazed, to the floor for a moment. A high, cold, maniacal laugh reached her ears. She whipped around, ignoring the black splotches appearing at the edges of her vision, and plunged her hand into her pocket for her wand.
It wasn't there. Her searching hand only met the slippery surfaces of dozens of leaves.
"Looking for this?"
Hermione turned in response to the horribly familiar voice and came face-to-face with Bellatrix Lestrange. She clutched Hermione's wand in her hand, holding it between two fingers as if it was something slimy and unpleasant. Behind her stood a short, muscular man with waxy skin stretched over his wide, shapeless features and a shaved head, a Death Eater that Hermione didn't recognize. Bellatrix tossed Hermione's wand carelessly to the man, who caught it and held it fast, and held her own wand pointed at Hermione.
"Lookie who we caught, Reynolds, Harry Potter's favorite Mudblood," she taunted, a sneer stretching over her face. Hermione glared at her, making an effort to rise from the ground. "I don't think so, Mudblood. Crucio!"
It was pain like Hermione had never known, searing through her body from her crown to her toes, sending daggers through every millimeter of skin and causing even the tiniest of her nerve endings to explode in agony. She heard herself scream in anguish in spite of herself.
The curse lifted and she felt as though she was being suddenly whipped. Dozens of thin ropes wrapped themselves around her, holding fast as though they were made of toughest steel. She instinctively began to struggle against her bonds, shouting out a number of counter-curses and defensive spells in her mind, but her wand was still clutched in Reynolds' hand.
Bellatrix approached, a wicked smile crossing her face. Unexpectedly, she reached out and closed a bony hand vicelike around Hermione's arm, yanking it around so her forearm was visible. She ran a cold finger over the fresh scar there, the word mudblood etched into her skin, sending shivers down Hermione's spine.
"Not bad work if I say so myself," she whispered. "Of course, I will be killing you today, so the scar won't matter. Maybe I'll mutilate your filthy body afterward for darling Harry to find. That is, assuming he lives long enough." She cackled her high laugh.
"Shouldn't you be in the forest," Hermione said, "waiting with your master? I wouldn't want you to miss Harry Potter finishing off Voldemort—"
"YOU DARE SPEAK HIS NAME!" Bellatrix roared, showering Hermione's face with spittle and foul breath. She did not look away, but before she knew it she felt the Cruciatus curse on her again, the ropes binding her cutting into her skin as her body twitched and jerked with agonizing pain, such pain that she was unable to think or feel anything else. After what seemed like months of pain, the curse lifted and Hermione panted in relief, her face wet with tears she hadn't remembered shedding. She lay on the stone floor now, unable to stand.
"Are you afraid to die, mudblood?"
"No," Hermione whispered, and it took all of her effort to keep her voice from quivering. She stopped struggling against her bonds.
"LIAR!" Bellatrix shouted, poking her wand into Hermione's breastbone so that the ache there deepened. Sparks flew with her temper and singed Hermione's clothes. Hermione said nothing, testing the ropes binding her again. They were unyielding, and without her wand she could not loosen them.
This was it, she thought, and she hoped that it would be quick. Knowing Bellatrix's reputation for bloodlust, this was unlikely, but Hermione decided that her last, best act of defiance would be to stare her down. She would not meet her end whimpering or cowering, she would not plead or seek mercy.
Her eyes met Bellatrix's cold black ones. Tears continued to escape her eyes involuntarily, but she determinedly continued to scowl at her captor.
"There are much worse fates than death," she whispered, her voice stronger now.
"Liar," Bellatrix hissed again.
"Just because you share Voldemort's terror doesn't mean everyone does."
"STOP SAYING THE DARK LORD'S NAME, YOU FILTHY, YOU VILE—"
The explosive pain hit her again. And again. When she felt the curse lift, she was panting worse than ever but she fixed her glare resolutely on Bellatrix's face.
Hermione said nothing. The ropes binding her were much too strong. She thought of Harry, she thought of Ron and the wonderful times they'd had together. A sense of finality came over her and a weight dropped into her chest with the realization that she would not share such memories with her two best friends again. Maybe, maybe, if Harry died tonight as well, they would meet again in whatever came after death.
Her thoughts turned to her parents, and she was suddenly grateful that she had modified their memories. They would not be devastated by her loss, and they would remain safe.
Suddenly, she was furious about losing her future, losing a life she would never have. Her parents would never know her. She worked up a mouthful of saliva. Bellatrix drew nearer, grabbed her by the front of her sweater, and yanked her to her feet. Hermione stood unsteadily against the wall, finding that she was struggling to remain upright.
"Not so tough after a few rounds of the Cruciatus curse, are you, mudblood?" Bellatrix taunted, another cruel smile distorting her features. With effort, Hermione spat into her face. Bellatrix let out a roar of rage.
"YOU DARE—"
"I've got nothing to lose, have I?" Hermione interrupted loudly.
"Bella," said the Death Eater Reynolds with urgency. "The forest, the Dark Lord, it's nearly time." The words seemed strike something in Bellatrix, who had a new look of malevolence on her face.
"I will not be killing you tonight, mudblood," she said quietly and with a note of glee in her voice. "We haven't the time for the torturous, drawn-out death you deserve. But after I'm through with you, you'll wish you were dead."
With a thrill of panic and foreboding, Hermione faced her tormentor and tried to keep her face impassive. What did Bellatrix have in store for her? She pointed her want at Hermione's forehead, face twisted into a horrible sneer, her cold, black eyes glittering with nefarious cruelty.
Hermione stared her down with all of the courage she could muster, her breath quickening in spite of herself.
"Obliviate."
Hermione had no memory at all of the few days that followed. She had no memory of picking her wand up off of the floor in the dungeons or running out the secret passageway to the Hog's Head before the second round of the battle began. She had no memory of apparating out of Hogsmeade. She did not know how she accessed all of her Muggle money or how she booked a Muggle airline ticket away from England.
In the weeks that followed, pieces of her memory began to return. Her childhood and years at Hogwarts came back in complete detail, as did her memories about the Order of the Phoenix and the search for the Horcruxes. She retained her personality and all of her memories of love and friendship with Harry, Ron, and Ginny.
She could not remember much of the Battle of Hogwarts, and she had no memory of how it had ended. All she knew for certain was the cruel memory that Bellatrix had planted there—though she had no recollection of her encounter with the Death Eater: that Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all dead, that it was entirely her fault, and that everyone in the magical world loathed her for it. The thought haunted her every day and she felt crushed by her own guilt, even if she could not remember precisely what happened.
Her life was changed completely when, three months after she had fled England, she began to feel sharp abdominal pains and sought medical care. The Muggle physician had run several tests and discovered that she was pregnant.
Pregnant. At the words, the memory of her and Harry came flooding back. It had been in the weeks leading up to the Battle of Hogwarts. The heightened sense of fear and love and friendship and desperation to hold onto each other for a little longer had led to an intimacy that neither had really intended, but in the end two babies had been conceived.
Seeing the ultrasound with two tiny, fluttering heartbeats had changed her. That first glimpse of her children, of Harry's children, imbued a new sense of determination and hope in her.
She would be okay. It was no longer a choice.
Okay, there's your new and improved start to a fun journey! Again, this is all with the express permission of my cousin, who is the original author. I obviously think that my version of the beginning of the story is much better than hers, but to be fair she didn't have the benefit of the seventh book being out when she wrote her version :)
Reviews are much appreciated! The next chapter will be up in a few days.
Until then,
StaccatoSunrise
