Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Into the Chasm
Chapter 1
Honouring the Dead
May 2, 2008
Hermione Granger stood outside of the Leaky Cauldron and flicked open her cell phone, hit the number 5 and talk, waiting for Ronald to pick up on the other end as she impatiently tapped her foot. Hearing the automated voice telling her to leave voice mail before the phone had even rang once, she knew he was either talking to someone else or had not paid his bill, again.
"Great," she muttered aloud, flipping the phone shut and shoving it in her pocket. Angrily pulling open the door, she went in to wait for him, hoping that Potter at least had the time right.
"Over here!" Harry stood, grinning at her. "Gods, how long has it been?"
"It's good to see you, Harry." She smiled, gave him a weak hug and offered her cheek for a kiss before sliding into the booth, putting her back to the door. "Sit, I just tired calling him. He'll be late as usual."
"Ten years since its been over, doesn't seem possible."
"For you," she muttered, looking around for a server. "Does Hannah still wait tables now that she owns the place?"
"Nah, she is up at Hogwarts more than she is here these days."
"How is Neville? I miss him you know. Every once in a while I think of him and his plants." She shrugged, looking at him sheepishly. "He never did get enough credit for what he did."
"How are you, I mean really," Harry said softly, laying his hand over Hermione's and studying her face. "I haven't seen you alone since you and Ron split. Do you want to talk?"
"That's not my fault. I've invited you and Ginny over."
Harry pulled his hand back and leaned against the high wooden back of the booth. "You know she won't. She…just …she won't"
"I thought she may be here."
"She is meeting us there. The kids are a little excited, and the youngest, Lily…you haven't seen her yet," he grinned and reached in his pocket, pulled out a picture and slid it over to her, "she's a handful right now. We thought it would be too much for her."
"She's cute, Harry. Truly she is." She smiled at the picture of his growing family. "Can I have this?"
"Sure, that's why I brought it."
"Thanks." She slid the picture in her handbag, looked up at Harry in time to see him wave to someone behind her, and then stand in greeting. Knowing that it must be Ronald, she leaned over and peeked around the edge of the booth. Sitting back up, she pressed her lips together in an angry thin line.
"Hermione, come on now. You can do this for one day."
"I said I would, so leave it alone, Potter," she spat, and moved to the far end of the seat, placing her handbag to the side where Ronald would be, putting as much distance as she could between them.
"Hey… Potter." Ron grinned widely, slapping Harry on the back as he slid into his seat, leaving Harry to sit next to Hermione. "Mione, good to see you. Must say you look the same."
"Thanks, it isn't as if you haven't seen me in years," she muttered turning to look over her shoulder again, raising up to see over the top of the booth. "Where is the server?"
"Here, let me get something from the bar," Ron said as he stood. "Harry?"
"Umm, just … better make it tea all around. We have to be there in an hour."
"Tea it is." He grinned and sauntered off.
"He looks good," Harry commented, leaning his arms on the table and speaking quietly.
"He should wear sun-block. You know how he easily burns."
"Right, I can see him with…"
"He should, he'll…never mind. If he doesn't care why should I?"
"He's a wizard, Mione, he won't get skin cancer."
She smirked at him and shook her head. "I must sound awful."
"Yup." He laughed, leaning back, grinning.
"I hate these things," she sighed and leaned back as well, studying Harry's face. "How do you do it? At the five year anniversary I swore I wouldn't do it again, now here I am, ready to tromp around, pretending I am happy and proud to be here."
"It's important." He looked over to where Ronald stood, still waiting for the tea. "We were lucky. We had Dumbledore and others like him. They are all gone now, Hermione. We are the ones that have to keep the history alive, to make sure this never happens again, to honour them."
"Hogwash," she snorted out a bark of laugher. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about them and not one fought for purely unselfish motives. They all had something to gain, on both sides, and don't try to tell me differently."
"Remus?"
"A place, yes, don't look at me like that. His is the easiest motive to see. What else did he have? He owed Dumbledore for taking him in, for giving him an education, and with Teddy he wanted to make sure he had a place as well. What was his other choice? Fall in with Greyback and get this throat ripped out for turning traitor, his son killed as a …a half bred…part animal part human?"
"Tonks? Surely you can't say…"
"Tonks, yeah, think about it Harry. Do you even think she knew what she was getting into? It was her job, that's the way she saw it. An Auror, the daughter of a Muggle born, put that with the way Moody watched over her and encouraged her and you have a young girl that didn't know what she was doing, showing off and looking for recognition. I am not saying that they…thought that what they were doing was for nothing, or that we shouldn't remember them. Just that …we need to stop making it out more than it was. They were…people…not heroes and to make them into something they were not is just…wrong. It's not fair to them or to their memories. It's not fair to glorify what happened and make every one think war is grand and noble."
"You don't believe that."
"Believe what?" Ronald set a small oval tray on the table, took off the cups and levitated the tray back to the bar.
"Seems you wife…"
"Watch it, Harry," Hermione spat.
"I forgot." He frowned at her. "What? Can't wait those last eight months, hey?"
"Harry," Ron said softly, shaking his head as a warning not to let the conversation go where it was. "She's taking the Muggle route."
"Because I am a Muggle." She turned to him angrily. "It's only in this damned place it takes so long to finalize."
"Let's not start," Ron grumbled, picked up a cup of tea, and made a face at the first bitter taste. "She's right, Harry. I accepted the Muggle divorce. Now, talk about something else."
"She was just saying that everyone died for nothing."
"That isn't what I said at all. I said that everyone had their own reason for being in the war, and it was not all heroic and noble like everyone wants to pretend."
"My brother?"
"You know I loved him. Don't, Ronald, don't even start on this. It's not fair and you know it."
"What about Sirius?" Ronald looked at Harry from under his brows, watching Harry's face become hard, knowing he had stuck a cord.
"He didn't die in the war," Hermione said in an almost whisper. "He died saving us. Do you think I have forgotten that? Just like Harry's parents died for him. They didn't to something noble and grand. They were murdered trying to save their son. Quite different things form what they want us to preach today, about goodness and light, and being courageous and just. Anyway, you said yourself he may not be dead…not the way we think of it…just…I don't know...crossed over…that's what Christians say."
"So what do you plan to talk about?" Harry said evenly. "Do you intend to take the podium and tell everyone their loved ones died for nothing?"
"No," she said, looking into his eyes directly. "I plan on talking about Neville. He was the one that really ended everything. Without Nagini, Voldemort was doomed anyway. What we did was just hammer in the last nail."
"Not soon enough," Ron muttered. "If we had found out about Snape sooner we may have been able to save more.'
"It's time we went," Harry said, uncomfortable with the conversation and all the other 'what if's' he had thought about over the years.
"No, Harry, he has a point. You keep waxing on about how great Snape was, but his body was burnt with the rest of the Death Eaters. They must have had a lot more on him than what we know for them to have done that. Want to talk about not fair? Start there. Why do you defend him and curse the Malfoys? Wasn't Narcissa the one that really made the difference? At the end, when it counted, wasn't it she that stepped up? If she hadn't been there, and done what she did, we could have found Voldemort in charge."
"I never said she didn't."
"No, but you never said she did. She was there last time and no one said one word about her. How do you think Draco feels, sitting there…?"
"Draco?" Ron echoed incredulously. "Who cares about him? They did what they did to save their skins."
"Get over it, Ronald. It's over. We need to be honest about it and tell the world what really happened, not all this shite the Ministry wants us to feed them. Where was the Ministry when we needed them? Narcissa was at least there when we needed her. So what? She saved her son. Was she any different than us? She did what she did for selfish motives, and so did our side. That's all I'm saying. Both sides fought for what they believed in and both sides killed the other."
After an uncomfortable silence, they finished their tea and used the floo for the remainder of their trip to Hogwarts. Once they stepped out of the fireplace in the Headmistress's office, they were greeted by the Head Boy and Girl of each house and led to the reception. Hermione pressed her lips together, sensing the animosity between the houses, disappointed that it still existed. As she took her seat with the other speakers, she wondered why the division had been allowed to go on.
Hermione sat on a folding chair, waiting for her turn to speak, watching as Ronald took his position at the podium. Strange, she thought, that he should seem so calm and confident. Strange and unsettling that his life had somehow worked out better without her. Better, that he had moved on and created a new life for himself. She felt her throat constrict and the familiar sting behind her eyes only to bite the inside of her cheek and continue to stare straight ahead.
At first, when she had taken her position at the Museum, he had been supportive and proud, telling everyone about his wife's accomplishments and her recognition in both worlds. Soon, he realized that whereas she continued to learn, continued to find new and exciting finds, he fought the same prejudices and foolishness he had seen for years. He had tried to immerse himself into his work as an Auror with the same passion that he had once felt, but as the time went on, he tired of fighting the same thing day after day.
He had taken up Charlie's suggestion and joined him in Egypt for the summer while Hermione threw herself into her new job, working in the same camp where his older brother was in charge. Although he was there to work as a general labourer, cleaning out stone and dirt, allowing the Curse Breakers easier access to their prise, he was hooked. Hooked and fascinated at the life of a Curse Breaker with its travel, fast pace and dangerous discoveries.
The next year he studied, all the while trying to convince Hermione to join him. In the end, he went back without her, becoming a Curse Breaker himself and coming home less and less often. It wasn't until the owl appeared with Muggle divorce papers that he realized it had been a year since he had been home for more than two days at a time, the last time not even seeing his wife, and that Hermione was no longer waiting.
Now, she sat watching his back as he clutched the podium and spoke of the night their world had ended, for it surely had. Never would they be wide-eyed innocents fighting evil wizards as if playing a game of chess again and thinking the world would be better for it. The world for them had only become emptier and lonelier, devoid of fifty friends and loved ones that left them behind to dig the graves and to grieve not only for the loss of life, but for their very way of life.
Hermione waited until Ronald turned to her, then stood up and took his outstretched hand, allowing him to guide her to the podium and to start her own memories of the battle. She spoke of blood slick floors and lifeless eyes, not glorious death and proud deeds. She spoke of dead bodies, laid on tables which students now sat at and sipped cold drinks. She felt Ronald's hand rest on her shoulder as she struggled to keep her voice level and coldly recount the battle in all her inglorious memories.
The hall was quiet, devoid of applause and cheers for the heroes or their actions, which she depicted in grisly detail, and not lofty ideals. She turned her attention to the lack of burials. Telling the students how the Death Eaters were burnt, their ashes lost, and wondered aloud where Professor Snape, the one who had lost the least, because he had nothing to lose now laid, or if his ashes were now assigned to lay with murderers and warmongers and not with the Order's other fallen. She spoke of Narcissa and a mother's choice, finishing with the story of the quiet Herbology Professor. She saw heads turn to gaze at Neville where he stood in the back of the hall, head lowered and breathing heavily as the list of what he had lost even before he was a student in there hallowed halls was laid out .
She didn't feel the tears that coursed down her face, just confused when she could no longer read her notes, and surprised but glad to find Ronald turning her away from the podium and into his chest.
.
.
"My, that went well. I made a fool of myself," Hermione said flatly, accepting a glass of spiked pumpkin juice from Minerva.
"It is to be expected," Minerva said, tuning to stand next to Hermione to look out at the festivities with her. "This place holds bitter memories. More for you, I would imagine."
"Because I am…"
"Because you have not been back but once in ten years," Minerva said quickly. "It is the way you remember it. I have had ten years of students stuffing their faces to push my memories of what these tables were once used for away."
"I feel old here," Hermione grinned, nodding out to the sea of faces in front of her. "I don't know any of these kids, and even the last names seem foreign."
"More families are allowing their children to come now. With the war over they feel it is safer, and without someone pulling strings and deciding who can be educated and who should not, the halls are once again filled."
"I thought you would have retired by now."
"That, Mrs. Weasley, is completely uncalled for. I still have a few years left in me."
"It is Miss Granger, and I meant no insult, only that you deserve it."
"Deserve to be put out? I think not, Mrs. Weasley," she said, then pressed her lips together in a straight line.
"Miss Granger," Hermione said, matching her look. "Even here it will be Miss Granger in a matter of months."
"At that time I will address you as such. However, at this time, in this place, I shall not."
"Fine," Hermione muttered. "I did mean to ask you if I can have a few minutes in the library. The museum has just taken procession of a tablet of runes, and although their authenticity has been established, I have my doubts."
"You have always doubted what you could not prove," Minerva sighed.
"These were found on the Albanian border; only the language isn't pure Latin and the carbon dating puts it far before runes were introduced into that part of the world. I thought I had seen something here that may help."
"Of course my dear, take all the time you want. I would have been surprised if you had not had other reasons for coming. Furthermore, I trust you not to make public our knowledge of the magic the runes hold."
"Of course not. The ones I am researching are already in Muggle hands. It should only take moment, if I remember correctly the book I need is one for seventh year. If I had saved my own, I wouldn't need to be here."
"I am surprised that you forgot your runes so quickly. You were an excellent student."
"Thank you, but no, there is a list of … runes that have been incorrectly included in some texts…Muggle and Magical…ruses…not real runes at all. I didn't bother with them at the time, they seemed inconsequential, but now find that I need to see that list again."
"There are several copies in the dungeons, as we have replaced the text books for seventh year lessons. I have converted Professor Snapes old quarters to a storage area. If you care to look there, you may be able to find one. Be aware, however, that nothing is arranged properly."
"Thank you," she said surprised at Minerva's generosity.
"Yes, dear," Minerva patted her hand and started across the room, tossing out the last over her shoulder, "just leave ten galleons on the table. Books, even old ones, do not come free."
Hermione grinned and took a sip of her pumpkin juice, then set it down and headed for the door, now having an excuse for leaving the luncheon. She had almost made it to the hallway when Ginny caught up to her, nervously calling out to her.
"Ginny," Hermione tried to smile. "I saw Lily's picture. She is gorgeous, you must be so proud of her and the boys of course, but a girl! The rest of the family must be ecstatic."
"They are." She smiled and nodded her head. "Leaving so soon? I had hoped to talk."
"Just for a moment. I am…buying a book."
"Neville told her to just pitch them, but you know how she is," Ginny said with a laugh. "Come, I'll walk with you. Did you bring your wand?"
"No, I don't carry it often," she said, suddenly thinking that she would need a Lumos to find what she wanted. "Sure, come on, we can catch up."
They walked the first half of the way in an uncomfortable silence, each thought madly of something to say to start the conversation. Hermione cleared her throat, twice opening her mouth only to close it again.
"I blamed you," Ginny finally said, looking straight ahead. "I couldn't understand why you wouldn't go with him. I still don't, but…I just wanted to let you know I forgive you."
"Forgive me?" Hermione stopped, waiting until Ginny realized she was no longer walking at her side and turned around. "You…forgive…me?
"Yes," Ginny frowned. "I just told you I didn't see why you refused to go with him. I was upset about it and…I just don't' understand you at all. If it had been Harry, I would have gone, even if I didn't want to leave here."
"Because my job is here? Did that ever cross your mind?"
"Well, yes…but you only do research. You can do that anywhere, he had to leave if he was ever going to make something of himself."
"Right, only," Hermione muttered as she pushed by Ginny and continued down the hall, opening the door to Snape's old chambers and waited for Ginny to light the candles. "He went to Egypt and left me sitting on my arse for the entire summer, and then a year later left for months at a time. I should have just thrown everything I wanted away and followed him like some kind of … of whore following the troops?"
"He was…is…you husband."
Hermione walked around tables filled with old books, picking up the one she sought. "He was never a husband, he was a grown up kid that never wanted responsibility, only good times. You know it wasn't just the time he spent away, that I could have dealt with."
"He never had a chance at being a kid, Hermione, not like you did. You got to leave for the summers, at least, you got away from the war for a while," Ginny said, walking along the outside of the room, examining the shelves. "Hermione, look at this. They kept Snape's personal library. It must be worth a fortune."
"Yes, nice," Hermione muttered. "I'll have you know I gave up everything for him, everything and … never mind. I don't want to go over it again. Just stay out of it Ginny, things happened."
"I said…look at the books."
"That's not like Minerva to hide something of value down here. Why weren't they moved up to the Hogwarts' library?"
"I don't know," Ginny mused. "Some of these are really old. I can't even make out the languages on the spines."
"Let me see." Hermione joined her, running her finger over the books, clicking off the ones she had heard of, or read, making mental notes of the subjects. Lowering her arm, she turned in a complete circle, seeing the entire room lined with bookcases.
"Wow," Ginny whispered.
"Indeed," Hermione said, frowning and crossing the room and climbing over stacks of boxes piled on the floor, to examine another self. "Ginny, did Snape impress you as a highly organized person? I mean…the way he catalogued his ingredients and potions?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Help me find his bedchamber. It has to be behind one of these book cases."
Ginny pulled her wand and shouted Lumos as loudly as she could, followed by a soft Nox, plunging the room they were in, into total darkness. "Check for lights coming through the cracks."
Hermione raised her eyebrow and nodded, silently thinking it was a good idea, but feeling they should remain quiet now that they were in total darkness. She walked in front of the cases, keeping one hand on the books to make sure she stayed in the narrow path in front of them.
"Here," Ginny's voice rang out in the dark a moment before the room was again flooded in light. "It should just swing out. You better get in the habit of carrying your wand, I could use some help here."
Ginny began levitating books from the table that blocked the shelve from opening, as Hermione did it by hand, pressing her lips together in anger at Ginny remarks, while at the same time recognising that she was correct. Once the books were moved off the tabletop, Ginny shrunk it down and kicked it out of the way, allowing the bookcase to swing open and letting them gain access.
"Good Merlin," Hermione sighed, seeing the books haphazardly thrown on the floor, the bookcases toppled. "If there was any system in here it is too late to find it."
"What are you looking for?"
"The books, Ginny. There is no rhyme or reason to the sorting. Not by subject, author, topic…not even language or age. They are mixed, stored wrong, Snape would never do this. No one would. Even Ronald had his chess and Quidditch books on different shelves. I don't get it. Snape knew better, he knew the system, he never would treat his own library like this."
"Maybe this room was damaged during the battle. This is the same side of the castle that the wall fell on."
"No doubt, but the inner room…that's all mixed up. This one we will never know about."
"Anyway, we should get back," Ginny sighed. "I can't leave the kids any longer."
"You go on," Hermione walked back into the first room, biting her lip, as she inspected a row of books. "I'll be up later."
She pushed the books on the table in front of her aside, and looked for parchment and quill, finally going down to the old potions lab to find some. Spreading out a fresh sheet she began listing the books per shelf, looking for a pattern, and then examined the case as if it were laying on its side, top to bottom, and then bottom to top.
"Do you plan on spending the night," Ronald asked from his position in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, leaning on his shoulder against the jamb.
"Oh." Hermione looked up, feeling a cramp in the back of her neck. "I lost track of time."
"You do that a lot."
"Not that it is any of your business." She stood up folding the parchment. "Neville said he or Hannah would see me back to London."
"They left."
"I can floo."
"Not at this hour. Even now, Minerva shuts the floos off at midnight."
"I don't need a wand to Apparate."
"No, but you're not strong enough to make it in one turn."
"Shut up, Ronald. I can get my self home."
"No, no you can't. Your second apparation point in Godrick's no longer exists. Try it and you will be imbedded in a marble monument."
"Bloody hell. Has this whole world gone crazy? There are more monuments then dead."
Ronald grinned and lowered his chin to his chest. "Mum even wanted one at The Burrow for the anniversary. Dad talked her out of it. I can take you back."
"I don't think so. Is Harry still here?"
"You haven't even talked to me. Did I say or do something wrong this time?"
"This time? No, I don't think so. The last time we talked you said quite enough."
"So, I take it you don't plan on getting over this anytime soon."
"I am over it," she said as she studied his face. "It is you that needs to get over it, or her, as the case may be. I am sorry it didn't work out for you."
"You are wrong, Mione, even if you don't believe it, you are wrong."
"I don't even care if you slept with her. You don't have to bed someone else to end a marriage. It was over long before that. You stopped talking to me until we didn't know how. You stopped coming home until you were a stranger. You stopped…" she choked, turning to gather her parchment into a neat pile. "Now, that you know I am done waiting you want to be friends. Is that it?"
"I thought we could talk."
"You thought," she snorted. "How novel. Go talk to your other friends. You were in town for two days in four months and you still didn't want to talk to me. So go talk to her now."
"Fine," he spat. "Minerva says she put out a blanket and pillow in your old common room, the beds are all taken with planned visitors and all, you can sleep on the couch and find a way home in the morning. I am done."
She watched him walk away, seeing his familiar stride, still able to see his childhood frame under the man that he had become , and wondered briefly if he still saw her as the bushy haired schoolgirl, before she turned back to the bookcases.
