They often said that when you keep something in the dark, it always came to the light, and staring at the hurt that flashed before her best friend's face, she knew it to be true. The pain was nearly unbearable, so much that she could barely focus on breathing, but she knew that she had to survive, if not only for him. A fresh wave of pain shot through her as she felt her eyes widening, her back aching into the air as the massive gash in her chest throbbed, a wet patch in her muggle jeans telling her that she'd managed to wet herself. Even when he turned to focus on sending curses and hexes this way and hat, the pain in them didn't go away. He would forgive her if she just outright told him everything, this she knew, but she wouldn't deserve it. She didn't deserve to see his smile, to make him happy ever again, but she still would, if it was the last thing she did. It was his smile that made the world a better place and god, if the world didn't need to be a better place.
It was the fire in his emerald eyes that drove her to her feet, her wand held firm as she grit her teeth against the pain that the sadistic Russian Death Eater had inflicted upon her. Dolohov's eyes widened as she rose, her eyes connecting with his as she rose her wand shakily. He was a threat, a threat to Harry, to her friends. He was threat to a world worth living in and he needed to be eliminated.
As if someone had sensed the dark path her thoughts began to take, a jet of red light shot past her, hitting the dark wizard square in the chest, successfully incapacitating him. As her head turned, she was meet with the cold, azure gaze of the madwoman of Azkaban herself, Bellatrix Lestrange. Fifteen years in Azkaban had taken a toll on the witch that many could never fathom, yet she came out, strong, but broken.
Confusion blossomed on the young witch's face, but she did not dwell on it, quickly ducking a stray Avada that flew over her head, barely touching her before a chill settled over her body. Hopping to her feet, she threw a volley of curses at a random Death Eater with his back to her as another throb went through her body, accompanied by the dull ache that came with the Dark magic that fought to corrupt her. He was strong, that Dolohov, and her body was showing it. She quickly tired, falling to her knees and erecting a shield around herself as her body crumpled to the ground.
When she woke, her body ached fiercely, all save for her hand. She looked down at it and saw that another hand clutched to hers, her eyes following up the pale, lightly freckled arm to reveal her best friend, Harry Potter. Relief spread through her chest as she reached out her free arm and stroked his sleeping face with a heavy hand, a smile ghosting across her face as he blinked sleepily, looking around the room and jumping when he caught a glimpse of her. After a few moments, he seemed to gather himself, pulling his hand away from hers and lowering his head into his open palms. His fingers dug into the wild mop of inky black hair he was known for, tugging slightly at the roots. She did her best to hide the hurt that flashed across her face, her head hanging as she stared at her hands, which she wrung nervously.
"Why did you lie?" She looked up at him, startled that he had even spoken to her. "I didn't lie, I swear I didn't. I just," she lifted her hands in frustration before shaking her head. "It's a lot to explain, but I'm sure you don't want to hear that. I've broken your trust, I'd be grateful if you ever looked at me again," she said, unable to keep the hitch from her voice.
Harry was her dearest friend, she valued him over anyone, over her life, her stupid life that had ruined their friendship and she was going to lose him. He looked up at her with a confused expression, but she went on. "I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to speak to me again, I'm so ashamed," she sobbed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands and she let out a choked sob, her dark locks falling over her shoulders as she felt her heart thumping in her chest.
"Hermione, listen to me." His slightly larger hands gripped hers and she could feel the years of quidditch and hard work in them, her eyes lifting to meet his. She watched as he inhaled sharply, shaking his head before he continued. "Hermione Granger, you are my sister. You have stuck with me through thick and thin and you have never turned your back on me. Do you think so lowly of me that you would assume I would turn my back on you because of something like this?" The tremor in his voice gathered her immediate attention and her heart broke with the sadness he held there, sadness that she caused. Shaking her head vigorously, she ignored her side screaming in protest as she wrapped her arms around his thin frame, tears falling freely down her face. "No, I would never. I just betrayed you and I was deceitful, Harry. I would never think lowly of you, I swear on my magic." She felt him relax at her words, but she meant them.
When they separated, he noticed the grimace in her face, reaching to her bedside table, grasping the phial that Madame Pomfrey left there. "She said to take a sip of this, but no more." She nodded in agreement, throwing the potion back and relaxing once the pain subsided. When she was finally able to move normally, he smiled to her, sitting back in his chair. "Now how about we start from the beginning," he gently states, grabbing the glass on the side of her bed, casting a perfect, argumenti, cool clear liquid cascading from his wand before handing it over to her. She drank from the cup of cool liquid, sighing and falling back into her bed, the extra pillows provided for her preventing her from having a backache as she allowed her mind to wander to places it hadn't gone to for quite some time.
"I meant what I said, I didn't lie to you, I just wasn't completely honest. My name is Hermione Granger, but my birth name is Adad Dimitriou. I hail from a Grecian pureblood family and they were proud of their heritage. They were also proud believers in blood supremacy. My father wanted a son, but I was born, but he still wanted to give me a name befitting of a strong son, as well as poke fun at my gender. My mother often took pity on me and she would call me Adaline, but I hated it. After a while, she settled with calling me Ada, which is still a bit ironic because Ada means father. When my parents found out that I didn't follow the rules of blood purity, I was seven years old. My parents had gone out of the country and I was left in the care of the house Elves. They would be gone a month, so I had to entertain myself outside of my studies." A shadow crossed over her face as Harry watched her intently, watching as a myriad of emotions crossed her face.
"Her name was Lyra," she stated, a smile on her face. "I didn't know her very well, but I loved her and I wanted her to be my wife." His eyebrows seemed to disappear into his hairline as he looked at her, but she was lost in her memories. "She was so beautiful, I was taken with her immediately. She had," she paused, a wide grin spreading across her face as she pulled her hair into her hands, deep auburn locks that seemed to shine even in the moonlight. "She had the most beautiful black hair that fell to her waist. It felt like the softest wool, shaved from the most beautiful sheep that God could find. She had," she paused again, touching her fingers to her pale skin, though it seemed as if the sun had ghosted it's lips across her skin, giving it a slight tan, most likely from spending summers in France with her parents. ",the most beautiful dark skin. It was as if god made her of fresh, spring earth and sunlight. She was tall and willowy, with a grace that I now know was far beyond her years. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on, and she was mines. I would play with her every single day, and I proposed to her in our gardens. I was so nervous, I thought she would say no, that she didn't love me, and when I asked her, she had the biggest, happiest smile on her face, and she said yes." She looked at him, and he saw tears shining in her eyes, a stray managing to fall as she beamed at him. "She said yes Harry, and my heart nearly exploded".
"We were married by noon. The House Elves held a ceremony for us and it was just the purest, most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. I wore my favorite princess gown, gifted to me by my grandmother. It was an exact replica of Cinderella's from the storybooks. She wore a dress so simple and pure, it fit her perfectly. A plain, white dress with lace embroidered sleeves with bare feet. She cried when we got to the altar and when I asked her why, she said that she was embarrassed. Embarrassed that she didn't have any money to buy a beautiful gown and I told her that she was the most beautiful thing in the world and that I wouldn't change her for all my daddy's galleons. They pronounced us and she kissed me on the cheek and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world." She laughed wetly, dabbing her eyes with the corners of her blanket. "I was so blind, so foolish, but I was so happy. Even now, it's the happiest I've ever been, and when I cast my patronus, it's what I think of." She sighed, but a frown touched her face and he knew then that the story would take a dark turn.
"When my parents made it back into town, I was quick to tell them that I had gotten married, my mother thought it was the most adorable thing in the world, but my father was not amused." She ran a stray hand along her arm, her fingertips caressing her soft skin. "He demanded to know who and I told him about Lyra, how she was the most beautiful girl in the world, and how I loved her so. He demanded that I bring her to him, if we were going to be married, and agreed, fucking idiot I was," she said, the tears that fell down her face having nothing to do with the smile that once held residence. "When we entered the room, my father said he wanted to speak to Lyra alone, that he wanted to ask her if she really loved me, and though I was reluctant to go, my mother pulled me out and I told Lyra that I would be waiting for her and that I loved her. When the door closed, I didn't hear anything else, not knowing that he had silenced the room."
"The things he did to her, I never thought him capable. Her bones were broken, her skin was bruised, there was blood pouring from places that I never knew blood could come from. She lay there, not even able to speak, not even able to tell me what he did to her. I rushed to her aid, covering her body with my own to protect her, to never let him hurt her again. And that was when i had my first powerful surge of accidental magic. He approached us, cane in hand, and my magic began to burn. God, it was the worst feeling I had ever experienced. I screamed, louder than I ever had, and he fell to the ground in pain, horrid shrieks coming from him at pitches I never thought possible. My body tired quickly, and before I knew it, I was being knocked across the floor. My father beat me in a way that still gives me nightmares at times," she said, running a hand across her cheek, and he could see the faintest hint of a scar long gone. "But through it all, I fought, because I had to protect Lyra. I loved her and I would have died for her." He stared in awe at the fierce look that shone in her dark eyes, though a light hazel had come from her whiskey gaze.
"When I was unable to fight any longer and he thought he had broken my spirit, he told me that he was going to teach me what happened to muggle lovers in our world. He," she started, the woods catching in the throat, but Harry knew where this was going. Yet even though he knew where this would go, he wanted her to say it. Say what her father did. Horor was etched into her face at what she was remembering, her slender fingers touching her pouty lips as tears rolled down her face. When she gathered herself, she spoke. "He pulled out his wand and used that spell. That horrid spell, and just like that, in a flash of green light, she was gone." Her hand clutched to the locket that hung between her full breasts, the cleavage visible in the light of the moon. It was in the shape of a heart and he didn't doubt that there was a picture of Hermione and Lyra, young and smiling in it. She cleared her throat, looking up at him, her gaze boring into his.
"After that moment, I hated my parents. I never wanted to be like them, the people who took my love away from me. I vowed I would have my revenge, but I never got it. My father threatened to disown me, but my mother begged for me to be spared, begged him not to take me away from her, not realizing that he'd already done that. He'd taken me away from them both." She wiped her tears with her hand, reaching out to grab his hand again, which he freely offered.
"Two months after Lyra's passing, I was finally able to bury her properly. My parents had simply paid to have her put in a box and stuffed in the ground somewhere, but when they left for Rome, the House Elves helped me dig her up, and thankfully, one of them had secretly put her under a stasis charm. It was that day when I found out what my family magic was." He looked confused at that, but he allowed her to continue without interruption.
"When I pulled her out of the box, she came to life in my arms, and I was so afraid. She screamed and she thrashed, and I was so terrified, I wet myself. It was in that time that the House Elves, brilliant creatures that they were, managed to free her from my grip, pop all of her bones back in place, getting her into a coffin of my choosing and laying her to rest. I buried her in her wedding gown, the one she wore when we joined our hearts, and I cleaned her body, careful not to touch her with my bare skin as I did so. I was so careful with her, so that she would not come back to her pain, to not be the cause of her pain. We buried her in the gardens in my wing of the manor, surrounded by the most beautiful white roses, and the elves charmed them to stay beautiful year round, so I could see her every morning when I woke.
"A week after I was finally able to give Lyra a proper resting place, I received the news that my parents were dead, that their boat had been destroyed in a storm and my father pushed my mother off of a life raft to save himself and without his wand, he went mad until he was found washed up on the shores of Italy, delirious, starving, and extremely dehydrated. He died because he refused to accept the care of muggle doctors." She chuckled, looking out the window. "Ironic, is it not?" She looked over to Harry and saw that he didn't find it funny in the least, and she felt horrid, smiling about how her parents had died at sea, her mother practically murdered by her father and he father starving to death because of his own prejudice. Taking a deep breath, she continued her tale.
"As my grandmother was unable to care for me and I had no other family, I was placed in an orphanage. Being there really humbled me and I didn't realize how much of an entitled little bastard that I was. I noticed then that I could not see beyond myself and my own desires, and I was deeply ashamed. I managed to make a few friends there and that made my time a little easier, but then, they came." A wide smile crossed her face as she looked at her fingers. "Josephine and Harold Granger. She was so beautiful, with her wild hair, untamable and free, and him, with his put together appearance. They looked like they didn't belong together, but I could see the love in their eyes for each other. Then she saw me." She choked up slightly as she remembered. "It was my mum, with her large, whiskey colored eyes, her silver spectacles, the lenses tinted pink. She wore a tye dyed tee shirt, bell bottom jeans, and she had a bandana around her head, pink, just like her glasses, and the most insane pair of silver platform boots that went up to her thighs. She was a character and I loved everything about her. Then there was him. He wore a crisp white button up shirt, a black blazer, black slacks, and the most impeccable black shoes that shone bright in the sun. His hair was short, closely cropped to his head, and the deepest shade of black that I had seen, and when I saw them, I knew that they were going to be my mum and dad."
"When they said that they wanted to be my parents, I cried like a baby. Mum hugged me so tight, I thought she would break me, and within a few weeks, they became my family. The house was small and they didn't make much money, as they were college students, but I loved it. I had my own room and Mum painted it black for me, with big, beautiful white roses painted on the walls. I have always had an obsession with the color black that I can never shake. And never shiny. A solid, matte finish was all that I needed."
"One day, I had a night terror, as I was prone to from time to time, and Mum woke me up, and I told her everything. I told her about magic, I told her about Lyra, I told her about it all, and I never forget the way she looked at me when I told her. She told me that I had nothing to worry about, that she knew about magic, as it was what initially drew her to me. Then, she asked me to tell her about Lyra, as I had spoken her name a few times, but I never went into detail about her or what our relationship was. When I explained to her how much I loved her and how we got married, she'd chuckled and explained to me that I didn't love Lyra the way that I thought I had, but that Lyra was simply my best friend. I was confused, as I'd had friends at the orphanage, and they never made me feel they way that Lyra did, and she explained to me the joys of having a best friend, how they were not the same as normal friends. Then she told me that the pain was temporary, and that soon, I would have a new best friend that wouldn't replace her, but would change my life for the better, and that I simply needed to be patient, and she was right. Because I found you, Harry Potter." He gave her a shocked look when she took his hands into her own, squeezing them so tightly that he thought they would go numb and fall off. As if she was sensing his confusion, she explained it to him.
"You see, Mum is a squib, but she is a gifted Seer. That's why I'm so pissed off about Trelawney all the time and refuse to take her class, it's because she makes a mockery of Divination, playing it for a joke and issuing out fake prophecies when someone feels themselves entitled enough to piss her off.. My mother has woken up, unable to breathe and in tears because of her visions, visions that my father help her get through. He's an empath, you see. Even though they are squibs, they can use their family magick. They are from families that did not shun them for being squibs, but they chose to leave anyway, as they felt that they didn't truly belong. I begged for her to change my name, that I didn't want to be Adad anymore, and they changed it to Hermione. It was in a series of names and when I heard it, I just knew that was my name. It was the most beautifully unique sound that had ever reached my ears and I had to have it." She smiled, love and adoration in her eyes for him as she stroked his cheek with her palm.
"I love you, Harry Potter. You are my brother and I would die to protect you. None of my injuries are your fault, none of my pain is because of you. It is for you. I bleed for you, I cry for you. Never think that I could ever resent you for this." He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him, sitting back in her seat. "Now go to bed and think about what I've said. I know you will never hate me, but I want you to think about what I've said and come back in the morning, afternoon, or whenever you feel the need to. I will be here, and I will be waiting." He nodded, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead, grabbing his invisibility cloak and making his exit. Before he left, he turned and whispered to her, "I love you, Hermione." She smiled widely, her eyes drooping slightly as she listened to him leave, the heavy door cracking and closing as he went. Only then, when she was sure that he was gone, did she allow the guilt to run rampant within her and the tears to fall as she sobbed quietly.
Concerning what her family magic is, this is not Potterverse, simply something of my own creation. Every pureblood family possesses an ancient magic, or magick, that they can tap into that is particular to that family. They are known to be things that now fall under the terms of "Dark Magic", but it's simply magick. For the Dimitriou family, it's necromancy. I'll add other families whenever I see fit to imagine what the family magicks are for particular families, like the Blacks, the Malfoys, the Notts, Zabinis(Already know what I want their magick to be), and the Weasleys. And two different ancient families can have the same magick as well.
Concerning Hermione and Lyra. Hermione's feelings for Lyra are not romantic. You see, Hermione knows that she does in fact love Lyra, but she doesn't know what platonic or non-familial love is. The only experiences she had with love is what she saw going on with her parents, or how much she loved her grandmother. She'd never felt love for someone that wasn't her family, so she feels that when two people that aren't related. Say that they love each other, that means that they are in love with each other. Before Lyra, she had no friends other than her house elves, and even then she felt that they were an extension of her family. It's why she was so confused when her mum explained it to her.