Hello! Hope you enjoyed Chapter 1, as Chapter 2 is now here. Chapter 3 will be posted Monday afternoon. Thanks for reading.
Chapter 2: Amata
The scent of the woods filled Hermione's nostrils; a sound of savageness punctuated her eardrums; a trickle of blood raced down her neck. She opened her eyes to find herself on the floor of a dark forest, her bed made of leaves, broken twigs, and dirt. The trees around her stretched into the starry night, its limbs masking that of skeletons robed in dark matters, while the air was void of any wind to speak of.
Hermione tried to pick herself up but found that she could not. She grunted, her face screwed up in tenacity, but the limbs of her body were not under her own control. She tried to wiggle her fingers or her toes but nothing would bend to her will. Her breathing became ragged as she realized that while she was clothed, she was very cold.
Suddenly from nearby, a voice cried out in pain. Hermione tried to tweak her head towards the sound, but she then remembered that she couldn't move.
"Hello," Hermione called out, surprised to find that her vocal chords still worked, yet her voice shaking because of the chill that continued to run down her spine and because she now was very nervous.
A growl greeted her, making Hermione spasm on the ground uncontrollably. The voice close at hand started to moan and wail, until a sickening gnashing sound was heard, effectively quenching it.
"Who's there," Hermione asked, though her voice betrayed her need to feel like she wasn't afraid or perturbed.
She sensed movement next to her, something crawling in the dark shadows that surrounded her body, though she couldn't directly see anything from her field of vision.
Someone or something was coming closer and closer to her, as she felt waves of shudders wash over her, her breathing becoming more uneven.
Suddenly, a face came into sight, making Hermione gasp loudly, her surprise radiating off of her in complete and utter shock. She was now very, very frightened, for the werewolf Fenrir Greyback now hovered over her.
Hermione saw his dark blue eyes wash over her figure, as his tongue started to lick away at his bloodied fangs in a hungry manner, pieces of meat stuck between his jagged teeth. His long brown hair hung off of him in a thick coat as his long fingernails dug into the earth around Hermione. Greyback bent closer to her, his damp nose making contact with her exposed neck, making Hermione whimper in what was going to come.
"You smell divine," Greyback whispered, an edge to his voice, making Hermione tremble again, "you're going to give me great pleasure to feast on your flesh."
Suddenly, an owl came into view, intruding on this horrific sight, flying down from its perch that was situated in the darkness of the trees above. Greyback sensed this for he snarled viciously, and turned in the air. With his jaws gnashing, the werewolf bit into the owl, severing it in two separate pieces, the wings of the soon-to-be dead bird beating frantically, with some of its blood splattering onto the forest floor, while the rest of its blood crawled down Greyback's hairy chin. The owl's body landed next to Hermione with a soft thud, its head brushing against her arm.
Hermione cried out in disgust, as the werewolf's head snapped back to her, his eyes alight with a bigger prey than that of an owl. Greyback growled as he lowered himself closer and closer to Hermione, as she felt him sniff at her, his snout dampening her neck .
"Now it's your turn," the werewolf said in a deathly quiet manner. Without wasting another second, Greyback barred his fangs and plunged towards Hermione, who suddenly sat up in her bed, her heart beating a mile a minute, threatening to burst out of her chest, as beads of sweat poured down her face.
Hermione looked around her and saw Ginny asleep a few feet away in her own bed, her features betraying nothing of what she might be dreaming about, if anything at all.
Hermione tucked her head down towards her chest, hugging her knees, as she closed her eyes, and told herself, 'It was just a dream…it was just a dream.' However, her dream, or to be more precise, her nightmare, seemed all too real to her…and parts of it was of a past reality.
Back when she, Harry, and Ron were on the run, the trio had been captured by Snatchers, who brought them to Malfoy Manor, where Hermione was tortured by the vile Bellatrix Lestrange, who then discarded her for Greyback to finish her off.
Hermione, on the edge of oblivion after having the Cruciatus Curse placed upon her numerous times, remembered the werewolf's sharp fangs, his foul breath, and a look of a sickening desire dancing in his eyes.
Now, sitting up in her bed, Hermione shook her head from side to side softly, willing for her nightmare to go away. After several minutes, Hermione quietly got up from her bed, as she made her way over to the bathroom the entire Weasley family shared.
After she closed the door behind her, she bent down towards the off-white pedestal sink, without even chancing a look at what she looked like in the mirror, washing her face with bouts of cold water, as if she was trying physically rid herself of her nightmare, with the cold water acting as some sort of ancient medicine.
After Hermione turned the water off, she moved away from the sink, and saw that the sun's rays had started to color the tiled bathroom floor. She sighed to herself, seeing that she was still tired and wanted to go back to sleep, yet the day had already begun, not to mention the fact that she didn't want her nightmares of a haunting Greyback to return.
Deciding that she would start her own day, Hermione crept back to Ginny's room, grabbed her toiletries, and headed back to the bathroom, the floorboards underneath her feet squeaking with her every other step.
Several minutes later, Hermione found herself exiting the kitchen door of the Burrow, stepping out into the semi-cool, early morning air, a book tucked against her stomach. Hermione had thought that members of the Weasley clan would be awake, as Mrs. Weasley surely would be, yet she was surprised, and rather relieved, to find that no one was after she made her way down the staircase and onto the ground floor of the home.
Hermione knew she looked like she was in a right state, and she didn't want to be pestered on why she looked so harrowed; she wasn't keen on re-telling her nightmare to anyone, not even to herself.
However, the chilly morning air was of a mass comfort to her, as a brittle wind blew around her. Her shoes squashed the dew-covered grass underneath her, while songbirds called out to one another.
The morning over Devon was a mix of sun and clouds, as half of the sky was of a midnight blue color, while the other half was turning to a light pinkish-blue.
Hermione took in a deep, calming breath, as the comforting sights, sounds, and smells of nature surrounded her, easing her troubled mind back into a steady state.
After Hermione spotted the orchard her and Charlie talked by last night, she turned away from it, and instead walked over to a small collection of tall trees, nested some feet away from the Burrow's shed. Hermione walked in between the trunks of two trees as her eyes then fell upon a pond that had been hidden from sight. She smiled at the solace these trees gave her, acting like some makeshift fortress, guarding Hermione from what might lurk beyond its own borders.
Hermione walked around the edge of the pond as she then spotted a large slab of rock that was situated some feet above the smooth waters of the pool. She walked over to it, and sat herself down, letting her feet dangle over its edge, as the tips of her toes skirted the pond's surface.
With her book lying in her lap, Hermione slowly looked around herself, enjoying the calm that was bouncing around her little hideaway, not taking in anything in particular but the quietness of the area. While it was true that Hermione liked to be around her friends, she also enjoyed the time she spent by herself – it gave her a chance to gather own thoughts and try to make sense of them.
Hermione thought about the Burrow, about how it was quite alone in its own landscape, like a treasure found between the rocks, even though in the back of her mind she knew that the Lovegood home was situated over the rolling green hills not too far away.
As another slight wind kicked in around her, Hermione's eyes followed the trail of a frog that was swimming around in the waters of the pond, its track occasionally blocked by a stray lily pad. She watched it dart around with surprising speed as the animal seemed unperturbed by her prying eyes in the early hours of the morning.
"Hermione," a deep voice called out from behind her, making her gasp aloud and turn around quickly.
"Charlie," she finally managed say after overcoming her jolt of surprise, "what're you doing here?"
"It seems like I could ask you the same thing," he shot back, a small grin crossing his face. She saw that he was dressed in a plain white t-shirt, though the shirt looked rather worse for wear, and blue jeans, that had several burn marks plastered upon it; his short, fiery red hair wasn't styled in any particular form yet Hermione again found him quite handsome, much like she did the previous night. She also noticed that he was rather tan, though that was to be expected, considering that he works outside on the dragon reserve all day.
"I couldn't sleep," Hermione told him, mentally deciding that she rather not share the main reason of why she couldn't sleep. "And what about you?"
"I'm an early-riser," he answered, as he started to walk around the edge of the pond in a slow manner, his hands fitted in the pockets of his jeans, "many of us are that work back on the reserve. I must say though that I'm surprised to find you in my favorite spot."
"This is your favorite spot," Hermione asked, looking around.
"Yeah, it's an escape from my family when they become a bit too much," he responded, looking over at her.
"Do you mean that no one else knows of this place," Hermione inquired, thinking that it wasn't too hard to find as it was in plain sight of the Burrow itself.
"Oh they know about it, but they don't find it as engaging like I do," he said softly, "it's peaceful here. There's not many places like this at the reserve."
"You miss it, don't you," Hermione questioned, as Charlie finally made his way over to the slab of rock she was sitting upon, as he situated down next to her.
"I do and I don't," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders as his gaze looked down at the quiet waters below, "I, of course, miss my dragons, but I miss my family more. I feel like I've missed watching Ron and Ginny grow up as I was away from everyone most of the time. I would find it crazy how much both of them have changed between my visits back home, and I know that Bill felt the same. I think he still does, actually. I mean, I love Romania; it's my second home, but nothing beats life back here."
Charlie looked behind his shoulder while Hermione repeated his actions, as through the branches of the trees, she could see the Burrow looming close by them. For a while, the two of them sat next to each other, both of their legs and feet hanging over the waters of the pond, Hermione feeling completely at ease, which was a stark contrast to how she felt when she first woke up that morning, not even one hour ago.
"This is going to sound tacky but I used to refer to this place as Amata," Charlie stated, not looking over at Hermione.
"Amata," Hermione repeated, "you mean the name of the woman from the story, 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune' from The Tales of Beedle the Bard?"
This caused Charlie to look over at her with wide eyes, as he asked, "You know of that story?"
"Yes," Hermione nodded, "Professor Dumbledore left me his copy of it in his will. But why do you refer to this place as Amata?"
"Because according to the story, as I'm sure you remember, Amata was depressed by some man that had left her, and I feel like I can sometimes relate to her. Part of me thinks that I'll never find that special witch that I can settle down with; not because she doesn't exist, but because we haven't crossed each other's paths. Maybe I should take a trip to the Fountain so that it can relieve me of my own grief and longing," he joked.
"Charlie, you know as well as I that that fountain doesn't have any special powers," Hermione said in a business-like tone, "it's just a fairy tale."
"Hermione, I was just kidding around," Charlie laughed, his chest and shoulders shaking in mirth.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his sense of humor before she then turned serious as she said, "You shouldn't give up finding the right girl for you, Charlie. I'm positive that there's someone out there for everyone; it's what my mum always told me growing up."
Charlie smiled at this last tidbit of information Hermione shared with him about her mother, as he then likened her to that of his own mum.
After a moment's silence, which was punctuated by the birds still singing to one another, Charlie phrased, "You know, you never did tell me why you couldn't sleep."
"I guess I just have too many thoughts in my head," Hermione replied. Even though that wasn't the main reason why she couldn't sleep, it was at least partially true. "I'm just trying to decide what would be the best for me to do."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Charlie was nodding her head at her words, as he said, "I know how you feel. I found myself in the same position that you're in right before I finished Hogwarts. There's a great big world outside of those castle's walls, and you feel as if you're nothing more than a small speck that's part of a much grander stage. It was kind of scary at that time as I didn't really know what I wanted to do then."
Hermione turned her head to look over at Charlie, asking, "Then how did you figure it out?"
"I stopped thinking of what was best for me to do and focused on what I actually wanted to do," he said back to her. "Mum wanted me to apply for a job in the Ministry, saying that dad could put in a good word for me, but I just couldn't find myself to get excited for it. Before I decided that I wanted to move to Romania to work on the dragon reserve, I started to understand that in order to figure life out, sometimes you have to think of you own needs and work everything around those specific needs. I know it sounds selfish but this is your future we are talking about. Besides, given what you, Harry, and Ron went through during the war, I doubt that anyone in the wizarding community could fault you for doing something for yourselves."
"You know, Charlie, Harry, Ron, and I aren't the only 'heroes' in the war," Hermione started, stressing the word 'heroes' with distaste, "everyone had a part."
"True, but you three had the biggest parts – the rest of us were just the supporting characters."
"I guess," Hermione said quietly, more to herself than to Charlie, as he noticed that she wasn't at all impressed with being branded as a hero or a savior of sorts of the wizarding community in Great Britain.
"You don't like the hero trademark, do you," Charlie questioned.
"I just don't understand why it would matter who the heroes in the war were; what difference does it make?"
"I don't know for sure, but I think that people like to cling onto to someone or to some people that they can see with their own two eyes as it makes everything more real to them. The pain the war brought was very real, and sometimes we all need to have our own figurines to give us some amount of hope…that's what you, Harry, and Ron did for all of us, you gave us something that matters," Charlie reasoned.
"It doesn't matter to me," Hermione responded simply. "And I'm sure it doesn't even matter much to Harry, if it even matters at all to him."
"Well, when you think about it, it makes sense, doesn't it? Harry has been at the center of attention for most of his life, ever since he was a baby. He was bound to get sick of all of it at one point."
Hermione softly shook her head from side to side, replying, "Harry's never really liked all of the attention he gets, good or bad."
At this, Charlie pouted out his bottom lip as if he was in deep thought, thinking about matters beyond the reach of philosophers that were trying to marry together the two subjects of science and religion.
"Since you seem to know more about my siblings than I do nowadays," Charlie started with a slight tease laced within his voice, "what do you think Ron will think about all of the extra attention?"
Hermione scoffed at this, as she answered, "Of all the times we've been out in public since the end of the war, he's been utterly in awe of people fawning over him. I'm actually glad your mum put up wards around the Burrow to keep the media away."
Charlie smiled at this point, looking over at Hermione and saying, "Don't worry…it'll die down eventually."
"I hope so," Hermione stated, though Charlie could tell that Hermione doubted his words. "How do you feel about your family being part of this media circus?"
Charlie seemed to think about this for a moment before he replied, "I don't like it, but it's to be expected. I guess I'm just trying to weather the storm and ride it out until it blows over. Why do you ask?"
"I don't know," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders, "you just seem more kept to yourself. I don't know what you really think about most of the time."
As Charlie registered her words, she saw his face light up in surprise before it quickly vanished, replaced by a smirk, as he looked over at her and conceded, "Well, I guess you could say that I'm a bit shy. For me, it takes time for me to open up to certain people."
"You didn't seem like that last night when we were talking," Hermione countered playfully, "and you didn't seem like that this whole time you've been with me so far this morning."
Charlie's face burned, though he tried to hide his embarrassment. "Y-Yeah, you're right. I-I guess I just feel comfortable around you, then."
Hermione turned her head away from him, trying to hide the amusement that was breaking across her face to avoid Charlie from any further mortification.
The two of them continued to sit there, sitting next to each other on the slab of rock that stood feet above the pond, content with each other's presence. Another soft wind blew over them, rustling about fallen leaves over the green grass that surrounded the pool, as the lily pads within the waters drifted about. In uneven intervals, the sun would make an appearance, glistening the surface of the encircled lagoon, before it was disappear behind a mass of clouds. The scene that enveloped them was so serene, like it was a moment in time that would soon be lost to the ambiance that hung above it.
Hermione couldn't quite understand why, but she found herself to be comfortable with Charlie. While it was true that she hadn't ever spent much time with him (with her only memory of him being at the World Cup before she started her fourth year, and when he was at Bill and Fleur's wedding), she didn't feel like Charlie judged her in any way, shape, or form. To her, he was a breath of fresh air, something that she desperately needed after the war. A tiny voice inside her head told her that she wanted to spend more time with Charlie if she got the chance to.
Suddenly, a loud rumbling sound was heard emitting from Charlie's stomach, making both he and Hermione look down towards it. They both laughed at the interruption of their peaceful moment, before Hermione suggested, "Well, shall we head back to the Burrow then so you can get something to eat?"
Charlie smiled over at her before he said, "Yeah, let's head back."
The two then stood to their feet as they walked off of the slab of rock and made their way out of the cluster of trees, heading towards the structure of the Burrow that soared towards the sky.
As two blue birds flew before them, Charlie suddenly inquired, "Hermione, did I keep you from reading?"
She looked over at him and saw that his eyes were trained down upon the thick tome she was holding against her chest.
"Oh, um, no, not at all," she said. "I mean, I of course planned to do some reading but I didn't mind your company," she told him, her cheeks flushing pink.
"What book do you have, anyway," Charlie requested, ignoring her slight discomfort.
"It's a book on goblin revolutions," she answered, holding out her book for Charlie to glance the cover of.
"And do you have an interest in goblin revolutions?"
"Not specifically on goblin revolutions, but I do like to read about subject matters pertaining to the wizarding world…I find it completely fascinating!"
Charlie chuckled as he said, "I bet you did really well in History of Magic class, didn't you?"
"I did well," Hermione acknowledged quite humbly, "but it was hard trying to keep both Harry and Ron awake during class."
"Yeah, I heard Ron complain quite a few times about how dull he thought the class was," Charlie remarked.
"Honestly, if Ron put in a bit more effort into his schoolwork, I'm positive that he wouldn't have found it boring at all," Hermione responded, looking affronted over how Ron could say make such a blasphemous statement.
As Charlie pulled open the screen door for Hermione to enter through, he said, "This is Ron we're talking about. The only things he would even consider putting more effort into is Quidditch and eating."
Hermione giggled as she entered back into the kitchen, making its two occupants, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, look up at the two new entrants. Hermione noticed that a wicked gleam materialized within Ginny's eyes, while Mrs. Weasley called out, "Good morning you two! Arthur just left for work but take a seat, take a seat; it's almost time for a spot of breakfast!"
"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied, taking a seat next to Ginny.
"Morning, mum," Charlie followed, as he took the spot next to Hermione.
"Where have the two of you been," Ginny asked, looking at Hermione, then at Charlie, before her eyes darted back to Hermione, as all types of food was flying around the kitchen due to Mrs. Weasley's fluid wand movements, chopping itself up and cooking on the stovetop. Hermione saw sliced mushrooms neatly lay themselves down onto a frying pan, as a low HISS was heard, while six eggs cracked open in mid-air, as its contents fell into a neighboring pan.
Hermione glanced quickly at Charlie, before she returned her attention back at Ginny and said plainly, "Amata."
"Where," Ginny questioned, her brows pulling together in complete bafflement.
Both Charlie and Hermione laughed loudly, as Mrs. Weasley commented, her eyes drifting towards the kitchen's ceiling, "What on earth is keeping those two boys holed up there? Well, you three," she gestured, looking at Ginny, Hermione, and Charlie in turn, "can start eating. What such nonsense that they sleep in so late!"
Hermione presumed that Mrs. Weasley was talking about Harry and Ron, as she waved her wand again to have eggs, bacon, sausages, fried bread, baked beans, and mushrooms fly onto plates that settled itself down in front of the kitchen's trio.
As the three said their 'thanks,' Hermione felt Ginny gently nudge her arm. She looked over at her red-haired friend, who nodded her head inconspicuously over at her older brother, who was eating his breakfast at a steady pace, unlike that of Ron.
In return, Hermione shrugged her shoulders good-naturedly, just as Harry and Ron stumbled into the kitchen. Harry's raven-black hair looked as if it had seen better days, though not much better, while Ron's face lit up in excitement seeing all of the prepared food waiting to be devoured.
Upon seeing the two boys, Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Well, it's about time you two got up!"
As they both took a seat at the kitchen table, Harry sitting across from Ginny while Ron took a seat across from Hermione, Ron said, "Mum, it's not even nine in the morning. It's not like we have any school work to do."
Huffing, Mrs. Weasley looked over at her youngest son and said, "Ron, I really wish you would consider going back to Hogwarts to finish your education, like Hermione."
At this, everyone turned their attention on Hermione, who glued her eyes to her plate of food below her, trying to block out everyone else's awareness.
Ron broke the calm tension, as he responded haphazardly, "We can't all be like Hermione – some of us are better in school than others."
Hermione then saw Mrs. Weasley put her hands on her hips as she shot back, "You know, if you used your energy to focus on your school work rather than complain about how others are fit for school or not, maybe you would've gotten more O.W.L.s."
As the tips of Ron's ears grew bright red, Hermione looked over at Harry and wondered how he was faring. While he kept stealing convert glances over at Ginny, Hermione remembered how Harry told her he was alright; that it would take some time to adjust to a world without Voldemort. Hermione believed him, and knew he was right, yet she couldn't help but notice that Harry still had inner demons that he was still battling. Truthfully, though, Hermione was sure that everyone still had vicious beasts that still clawed at their sanity.
However, at this time, Ginny suddenly pointed towards the kitchen's window, saying, "Look!"
Everyone turned their attention towards the glassed pane to see four ministry-looking owls flying towards the Burrow, letters clasped within each of their talons.