Disclaimer: I own nothing Harry Potter related
A/N: I was going to make this exclusive to LJ and Granger Enchanted. But I want people to actually read it so it is back. I warn you this chapter has indication of horrific violence, but is necessary in order to understand Hermione's current frame of mind.
Chapter One
The young man stood in the foyer, blond hair falling across his forehead and almost in his eyes. He stood between his mother and father, his icy grey eyes traveling over all the curious faces. Potter, Weasley and the Weaslette were halfway down the stairs, not hiding their curiosity in the least bit. All three had similar looks of distaste and distrust on their faces. Draco didn't care. They weren't exactly his choice for company for his summer vacation either.
Mister Weasley and his father were glaring daggers at each other. That was nothing new. Draco learned early on they didn't like each other and Draco wondered exactly how and when that rivalry started. Draco could argue that Mister Weasley was a blood traitor and that was why, but he had his doubts. He never saw his father get into an actual Muggle style fist fight with anyone else that was a blood traitor. Draco noticed both his mother and Mrs. Weasley look at their husbands nervously before turning and sizing each other up as if some mental female conversation was going on.
Then it all happened at once. His mother seemed to relax just a little, which for her was quite a bit and Mrs. Weasley quickly grabbed Draco, pulling him farther into the house as if welcoming him like one of her own. Draco tried to keep the urge to shove the woman away at bay. After all, this was for his family and their survival. That didn't mean he had to like them, but it was best not to start anything either. In the chaos of the welcoming, the two Weasley twins stepped down from upstairs, stopping behind Potter to look on. The kitchen door opened and the last person Draco expected to see stepped out, bowl of cereal in his hand, steadily shoving food into his mouth. Mrs. Weasley turned and clicked her tongue, removing the bowl from Theodore Nott's hands as he tried to pass through. He looked up, his mouth hanging open.
"Hey," he said sounding affronted as he looked for the culprit.
His dark hazel eyes landed on Mrs. Weasley's stern face. She looked at him pointedly and he quickly closed his mouth. Draco wondered how long he had been here to already know not to argue with Mrs. Weasley. Draco filed that away for later as he noticed his mother slowly move toward an empty frame.
"Where is she?" Narcissa looked around the room.
Everyone turned to look at Ginny. She stood stubbornly on the step, arms crossed over her chest. Her twin brothers looked at each other and then her warily.
"When Hermione got here the old hag was screaming obscenities at her. She doesn't need that right now, so I took care of it." Ginny looked as if she were daring any of the Malfoys to argue with her about it.
"Ginny Weasley, watch that tone," Mrs. Weasley scolded her daughter—probably the only one in that room not afraid to do so.
"Well," Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Why don't we all go to the kitchen? I was just finishing up dinner."
Draco had never experienced anything so…warm. His parents spoiled him and loved him, yes, but the experience of dinner with this goody goody family was almost noxious. He felt like being sick as he sat amidst these people, eating, talking and laughing as if there weren't a war going on right outside those walls. Potter, Weasel and the Weaslette were in a rather loud animated debate about England's chances for the Quidditch World Cup. The Twins had their heads together, obviously up to something which explained why Mrs. Weasley kept peering at them as if ready to scold at the slightest sign of any of their plans. Mr. Weasley sat at the end of the table talking with that werewolf about who was scouted around one of the manors the Malfoy's owned in hopes that no one, meaning Death Eaters, would come looking for them there in order to enable them to place a Fidelius on it by the holidays. Nott was quiet and eating. He would glance up at Draco on occasion and offer a smile that seemed to say "this is unbelievable isn't it?"
Then, Draco's eyes landed on an obvious empty seat, obvious by the empty plate that sat on the table as if in hopes someone would use it. He glanced around the table again. Hermione was not there despite Draco remembering mention of her in the foyer. Mrs. Weasley's eyes lingered on the plate before she looked at the kitchen door and with a sigh ordered Ginny to fix a plate for Hermione.
"One of us will take it up to her when we are done eating."
"She won't eat it, Mum," Ginny said.
Narcissa looked up.
"The girl isn't eating?"
Draco glanced at his mother. No, she wasn't necessarily worried about the girl. She was a Mudblood after all. It was more the mother in her had heard alarms go off about a child her son's age not eating. Mrs. Weasley looked at her for a moment as if trying to decide if Narcissa was looking for a reason to be hateful or if her concern was at least partially genuine. Mrs. Weasley shook her head.
"Hermione," she said stressing her name so that Narcissa was aware Hermione was not "that girl." She continued on, trying not to let tears fall. "Hermione has not left her and Ginny's room since Severus brought her here."
Mr. Weasley patted his wife's hand as if offering comfort.
"You heard what Severus said," Lupin explained gently. "It will take time."
Mrs. Weasley turned, no longer able to fight her tears for the girl.
"Time," she shrieked. "That young woman up in that room is simply some shell. That is not the girl I've known since she was eleven…that is some broken shell the Death Eaters left behind!" She turned into her husband's open arms and sobbed.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Draco always knew that Theo was concerned about when his father would find a way out of that prison. Despite being in Slytherin, Theo was not his father. He had no desire to follow a half-blood and honestly, Draco could rarely recall hearing him call anyone, let alone Hermione, "Mudblood." It crossed his mind quite a few times that Theo didn't necessarily believe them inferior, but when you are in Slytherin, you keep such things to your self. It was with the several breakouts that Theo turned to the Order.
He didn't want to be his father.
He was still Draco's long time childhood friend though and as such, Draco kept his mouth shut about what he really thought. It was Theo's miserable life not his.
For days Draco was there and never once saw Granger. The library was even Granger free. It was as if she wasn't there, but the lingering sadness of her lack of presence was overpowering. At night Draco would be awakened to a young woman screaming as if she were being brutally murdered. The first night this happened, Draco was thankful he had to share a room with Theo or he would have never known it was Hermione and it was a regular occurrence. Severus showed up several times, checking on her and warning them all of what they could expect to see.
Days turned into weeks.
The room at large was still and silent as she fought against his hold, desperate to lash out at the Slytherin boy standing in the door way. Harry's arms tightened around her, holding her close up against his chest.
"Please, Hermione," he whispered through her thick main of hair into her ear.
At the table behind Harry, Theodore Nott sat, quill poised over his parchment, eyes turned up for only a moment, long enough to meet Draco with that knowing gaze. As Theo went back to his work, Draco glanced away and back at the angry Gryffindor girl fighting to get her hands on him. The corner of his mouth turned up at one corner, humored by the usually self-controlled girl.
By one of the large windows of the room, Ginny stood with her face buried in Ron's chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. It hurt to see Hermione in such a state. By the fireplace the twins stood, for once, subdued, finding no humor in the situation.
"Please! Let me go!"
Harry's arms tightened around her, his head leaning down against her, closing his eyes for a moment as if it pained him to see her like this. Hermione was not herself. She didn't even notice that Harry's embrace had grown. Still, she struggled to break free.
The clicking of heals on hard wood behind Draco were the only sounds that could be heard beyond Hermione's pleas. Severus slowed as he reached the doorway, his dark eyes, always so accusing looked from Draco to the room at large. His eyes landed on Hermione, wrapped up in Harry's arms trying so hard to get to Draco. Her hair, though not as bushy as it once was, was a mess due to her struggles, hanging down in her face only partially obscuring eyes that were once so hollow looking now danced with a fire bordering on insanity. The dark circles under her eyes were the evidence of her troubled sleep every night and her tears…they ran down her cheek in the purest form of frustration and heartache.
Severus knew this was coming.
It was only a matter of time before the Gryffindor girl grew angry. The only question was who she would blame? Herself? Severus? The Order? No, it was Draco Malfoy. Severus watched the tears streaming down her face almost thankful they were finally seeing some sort of emotion from the girl.
The commotion had brought forth the other occupants of the house. Lucius and Narcissa curiously stepped onto the landing, Narcissa, realizing what was happening, immediately reached for her son. Draco pulled his arm from his mother's grasp. At the sight of the tearful, struggling Hermione, Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth in an attempt to not vocalize her own heartbreak at seeing the girl so…broken.
Draco glanced behind him at his rather protective mother. Her own mouth was covered by her hand and her eyes were wide and Draco knew why. His mother had not only heard, but seen what kind of girl Hermione Granger was. His mother had seen her fight along side her friends without a second thought. And now what his mother was seeing was not this strong Mudblood she heard so much about and watched fight, but a broken version of this girl. It wasn't so much that Narcissa liked the girl. But in Narcissa's eyes she was also a child, a child the same age as her son. It could have been her son. What was this war doing to them?
"Let me go!"
Her voice was a screech of insanity and desperation. Harry jerked her harder against his chest and when she tried with all her might to push herself free of him, he held tighter, dropping to his knees. Severus watched this. He looked away and closed his eyes only to be assaulted with the visions of finding her that day.
Even from the outside the house looked hollow, dead. Severus knew immediately they were too late. The Dark Mark hung in the sky, high above the house, its menacing hollows where eyes were meant to be looked down upon the house as if it were mirroring what would be found inside. Severus felt his heart clutch at the realization that they were too late, the information simply came to his knowledge too late and for a moment, Severus stood outside that house feeling guilty…again.
McGonagall, Remus and a few other Order members were with him, but it did not stop Severus' fear at entering that house. It was no longer a rescue mission. It had become a recovery mission. Severus took a deep breath, not looking forward to what horrors he would find in the house. After all, the Death Eaters that were sent to this residence were the worst of the worst; they didn't like to simply avada someone, that didn't involve bloodshed of any sort. The Mark had just appeared upon their arrival so Severus still held a bit of hope that the perpetrators were interrupted. Perhaps someone was alive in that house.
Entering the house was beyond horrifying. McGonagall gasped and covered her mouth. Severus, though not the first time to see this particular band of Death Eater's work, was internally cringing and denying the possibilities that Hermione Granger was indeed dead. Every wall he could see had the same word painted in bright red. The coppery smell that assaulted his olfactory sense upon entering the house told Severus it was blood. They looked from wall to wall.
Mudblood.
The only word used. Despite the churning stomachs of the Order members, they began to search the house trying as they might, to ignore the coppery smell of death through out. Furniture was turned over. The Death Eaters obviously had some fun first.
They found her father at the foot of the stairs in a strange mirroring of her Potter friend's father's death. The pain that still showed on the part of his face not so covered in blood that he was unrecognizable let them know he did not die easily, but it was slow, painful and bloody.
"You," Severus said pointing to a couple of the Order members. "Take care of this one,"
McGonagall, Snape and the other two Order members with them stepped over the bloodied body and followed the horrifying display of blood up the stairs.
They found her mother on the landing upstairs, just outside one of the bedroom doors. The amount of torture, magical and muggle, that had to be used to inflict this kind of pain, to draw out this much blood, to leave such a broken body was sickening to imagine.
"You," Severus said pointing to the woman's body.
The other two Order members stepped forward to do what was necessary. McGonagall and Severus continued to search. There was no sign of Hermione Granger's body and Severus began to worry that she had been taken. That was when he heard it. Standing in what could only be her bedroom with the many book shelves and academic awards from primary school, he heard a soft sobbing. It was stilted, as if the person was trying so desperately to remain quiet, but finding it quite hard with the smell of blood permeating the air. Severus cocked his head to the side to listen.
He found her locked in the closet. She had pushed herself into the very back corner of the closet, hidden by the hanging clothes. Her legs were drawn up to her chest to prevent any part of her showing. Her hands rested on her knees and the tears were falling uncontrollably down her face. He could tell she was shaking from head to toe, a combination of ultimate fear and total shock. It was with the black look of unfathomable fear in Hermione Granger's eyes that Severus realized what it was exactly.
Hermione Granger had to sit in the corner of that closet, more than likely at her father's command, and listen to their brutal torture and murder expecting to be found at any moment. At least, that was Severus' guess because the girl simply would not talk.
Severus let out a long breath. Those memories were especially horrifying. When he brought her back to Grimmauld Place, she did not react to Theodore Nott hiding there nor did she react to the news that the Malfoys would be arriving. In fact, she didn't react to anything. She spent her time in the room she shared with Ginny, not eating, not talking, not crying…doing nothing, but staring out the window or up at the ceiling or simply at nothing.
It was like Hermione Granger did not exist.
It was only a matter of time before the anger rose up from her heart. Severus glanced back down at the girl now struggling on the floor and with a flick of his wand; she became frozen, unable to move. Harry let go of her with a sigh of relief. Severus stepped forward and pulled a vial out of his cloak, pouring its contents down her throat. Within seconds, her eyes closed and Severus released the spell before lifting up a very limp Hermione. The room was silent as Severus swept from the room with the girl.
"Will she ever be the same?"
Mrs. Weasley heard her only daughter's soft words as she mumbled them into Ron's chest.
"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said stepping in. "I have to believe that. It will just take time. Severus warned us this would happen. He explained the steps a grieving person goes through. Think of this as another step toward her recovery from this tragedy."
The room was silent as if letting what Mrs. Weasley said sink in and create hope in those closest to her.
"Well, dinner is ready," Mrs. Weasley said before turning and leaving, tears gleaming in her eyes.
All the Gryffindors left, following Mrs. Weasley. After a moment, Lucius and Narcissa went down to the kitchen leaving Draco in the drawing room with Theo. Theo, noticing the quickly emptying room, slowed his movement across the parchment, watching for what Draco was going to do. Draco looked around the room; his nose crinkled as if something in or about the room was disgusting. Finally, he stopped and leaned back against the back of the sofa. Theo sat his quill down and shoved his hair off his forehead only to have it fall right back.
"What did you do to her, Darco?"
Draco's eyes wandered from the intense gaze of his friend out the window where the sky was turning several shades of oranges as the sun set. He shrugged.
"I said nothing to the little Mudblood," Draco said.
Theo shook his head as he began putting his books and work away.
"You know," he said. "Should you be calling the Order's pet Muggle-born a Mudblood?"
Draco's eyes narrowed slightly at Theo as he watched Theo put his things away. It was a moment before Draco bothered to respond to that.
"Just because I didn't want to be a sycophant for a crazed half-blood wizard does not mean I am now the champion of Mudbloods."
Theo looked up at those words, laughter about to burst out. Trying to keep a straight face, Theo walked to the other side of the table and crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back against it.
"No," Theo said. "I supposed it doesn't mean that."
They were both silent for a moment.
"Are you going to come down and eat with the rest of us?"
Draco moved his gaze from the dying sun to Theo and shook his head no, a look of distaste on his face. Theo shrugged as if saying, "Your stomach, not mine" and walked out of the room.
Draco watched him leave and listened to the sound of his feet drift off as he descended the stairs. He turned to look straight ahead, eyes falling to the floor where Harry stood holding Hermione back from lashing out her anger physically at Draco. Severus explained the stages of grieving to the Malfoys a few days after their arrival. Draco understood what was coming; he just didn't expect to be the one her anger was focused on. It wasn't the first time she had shown anger toward him. She often did. In fact, he did things to cause that anger. Even when she hit him that time, she didn't look like she did today. Today, she wanted to kill him. Today, in her eyes, he was a Death Eater and not just any Death Eater, but the one that murdered her parents.
With a sigh, Draco pushed himself off the sofa. He shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking down the corridor. A door stood slightly ajar—the door to Hermione and Ginny's room. He slowed down, peering in. The girl lying in the bed was pale. When she wasn't acting barking mad, just lying there, the dark circles under her eyes stood out more. She looked like death. She took a deep breath and turned toward the door, a chunk of hair turning and falling across her face. It was the most peaceful she had slept lately. Draco knew this much.
With a slight sneer of disgust in her direction, Draco turned and continued down the corridor to his and Theo's room. Draco fell back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Dumbledore made the offer and he took it, Harry even vouched for it upon Dumbledore's death. No, Draco didn't want to be following a crazed wizard, but that didn't mean he actually liked it there surrounded by Gryffindors. What if he started acting like them? He closed his eyes. Merlin, he hated it there…hated watching them act as if he were some disease at Headquarters, hated watching them eat dinner like they enjoyed each other, hated watching Severus actually help that Mudblood. He hated seeing that he was not the only one affected by the Dark Lord. He hated seeing what made these Gryffindors Gryffindors…watching them take hit after hit and still stand strong and continue on because they refused to quit, refused to lose without a fight.
Except for Hermione Granger.
It seemed she was the exception to the rule. It seemed Hermione Granger had given up.