Disclaimer: I of course do not owe any of these wonderful characters except of course for two death eaters who some might find interesting in later chapters if I decide to continue this based on feedback.
A/N: Wow. I got some amazing feed back on this. I was actually pretty surprised. All those reviews proved quite a lot actually: You're all insane. But I guess my writing is actually pretty good. Thank you all so much for the reviews. I'm so sorry it took a REALLY long time to get this posted. I've been through so many betas, and somehow I know that this will still have some mistakes.
Now a reminder to some of you, that I am more of an action/adventure kind of girl so that bit will tend to pop up every now and then in this story. I assure you all however that this is a romance (much to the horror of my action/adventure buddies) with a dash of drama. So I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter, and please keep the reviews coming.
Torn Chapter 2: Remember When
Flashback
"Do you have them?"
"Y-yes my lord."
Heavy footfalls strode purposefully across the marble floors of the Kareen mansion; while another pair of anxious feet hurriedly shuffled after.
"Was it delivered?"
"She should have received it yesterday, my lord."
It had been two days since the last living member of the town walked freely. Now all of them were under his control. It had been too easy. Once he had power over the Kareens, the most powerful family in the town, the others were easy to break. It was all a matter of control.
Death Eaters roamed the once safe streets, taking great pleasure in doing whatever they wanted with the townspeople. There were those who bullied, while some killed, and when they'd become extremely bored, they would do much more. The anguished screams never seemed to stop.
Wormtail shuddered as the said sound echoed in the halls, soon followed by uncontrollable, ecstatic laughter. A few minutes later, a woman in a daze stumbled out from the darkness behind a column. Tears streaked her pale face, and her eyes, glazed over in confusion, darted back and forth as she continued to clutch at what was left of her clothing. Voldemort sighed.
"Collins, if you must continue to satisfy these tiresome appetites of yours, do so but not in my presence."
"Yes, m'lord. Forgive me."
At a twitch of the Dark lord's finger, the tall Death Eater bowed his head and left. Wormtail watched him go, not noticing his master continuing on without him.
"Is there anyone with them?"
Turning back, he noticed that he was lagging behind, and he scurried to catch up.
"Er, Weber is, my lord."
The dark lord's face was blank, save for a hint of satisfaction in his smouldering eyes.
It was a while before Wormtail managed to obtain the courage and ask the one question that had been boiling inside him for too long.
"M-My Lord -if I may ask- er, why not just take the Potter boy by force?"
The Dark Lord never broke his stride, but his eyes darted to glare at his servant. Wormtail shrank back under the cold stare.
"F-F-Forgive me, my lord. I-I never meant to-"
"Silence Wormtail. With that fool Dumbledore hovering over his back all the time, there would be no chance of even touching the boy. But there are other ways, Wormtail. There are other ways."
Up ahead, Wormtail could now make out the doors that shut in the prisoners. His newly obtained silver fingers twitched in anticipation. The last time he had seen the muggles that were kept in the room, he had lain in bed for a week not daring to close his eyes. For if he had closed them, sleep would come and the nightmares would take him.
"If you can't attack the body, one must attack the heart," Voldemort continued. Wormtail swallowed.
"And who Wormtail, are close to the boy's heart?"
Wormtail's eyes darted to the floor; his mind taking in what his master was telling him. "His friends." he whispered.
Thin lips formed into a satisfied smile, one that did not reach the eyes.
"Precisely."
The tall, ivory doors inlaid with gold loomed over them. A pair of death eaters bowed as the doors swung open.
The sudden onslaught of light piercing the never-ending darkness of the room made Mrs. Granger cry out in pain and fright. She knew what was to come. Clutching her husband's head to her chest and rocking back and forth she shouted, "Who are you?! Why are you doing this?! Oh god, Ted please wake up!"
She held Ted tighter and wailed her protests as invisible hands pried her away from her slowly waking husband. They were shackled.
Wormtail dared not to look at the beaten and bloodied sight of them. But his ears could not block out the horror. It was a wonder that the woman could still force out coherent words let alone scream bloody murder in such desperation.
"Good morning, Mrs. Granger, Mr. Granger. I hope our accommodations are to your liking." He heard his master mock the muggles cowering on the cold, hard floor. "Leave, Marcus. The Gangers have endured their stay long enough."
"Whatever you want. W-we'll give you whatever you want. Just let us go." The once proud woman pleaded.
"You see how easy it is, Wormtail?" The Dark lord continued, ignoring Mrs. Granger's futile protests. The same predatory smile was plastered on his lips.
Wormtail forced himself to lift his head and look at his master.
"The boy is already in my grasp."
And the heavy doors shut behind the Dark Lord, leaving Wormtail out in the brightly lit hallway. He winced as the screams of death, not at all muffled behind closed doors, rang in his ears. Shivering uncontrollably, he walked away.
"Checkmate!" Ron announced happily.
Harry groaned. "Hermione, remind me again why I agreed to this?"
Hermione looked up from her Muggle Studies book with a smile on her face. "Because you're a git who accepts any challenge given to you, even knowing that you're bound to lose."
Ron laughed and Harry raised his eyebrows at her answer.
"You do know that when I asked that question, all you were supposed to do was smile and shake your head, right?"
Green eyes met brown as Hermione replied, "Yes, well, I'm feeling quite daring today."
"Hey Hermione, what do you say to a game of exploding snap?" Ron asked. "Thanks, but no thanks Ron. I intend to keep what's left of my eyebrows intact."
"Oh, come on Hermione. Just one game. You've been reading that book all day."
"No, leave it Harry. I reckon that once we grab a bucket of water, she'll come along."
Hermione sniffed at the boys' teasing laughter. "Honestly, Ron, that was one time."
"And you looked like the bleeding ghost of Christmas yet to come." Ron chuckled. "Scared the hell out of poor Neville too. I never knew hair could catch fire so quickly." Harry smiled.
"For one thing, it wasn't my hair, it was my robes, Harry James Potter. Now the both of you, wipe those smiles off your faces." Hermione huffed while placing her book down with as much dignity as she could muster. "Well? Are we going to play or not?"
Ron rolled up his maroon sleeves, and whispered, "Bet you mum's chocolate that her eyebrows will come clean off this time."
Hermione scowled, "Ron Weasley, if you say one more thing about that accident I'll-"
"Ms. Granger," Professor McGonagall had swooped in upon them and peering down at Hermione, face grim, she said, "If you will come with me. The headmaster wants a word with you."
Surprised, Hermione quickly glanced at Harry and Ron before promptly getting up and following the transfiguration teacher.
"I wonder what that's all about." Ron muttered.
"Dunno." Harry answered as they both watched the pair of them leave the Great Hall.
Portraits of past headmasters surrounded her, and its occupants were snoozing away. Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk and he held a piece of parchment in his hands. He frowned at its contents and mumbled to himself. Looking up, he bathed Hermione in a warm, yet sad smile as he stood up to greet her.
"Ah, Miss Granger. It's good to see you again. Please, sit down."
Hermione did as she was told and sat in the seat before the headmaster's desk. She noted that Dumbledore's usually twinkling blue eyes now mirrored the sadness and seriousness of the situation. She forced herself not to fidget in nervousness and placed her hands neatly folded on her lap.
"Miss Granger, you are one of the most intelligent and hard working students that Hogwarts has had in these many years," Dumbledore began.
Hermione beamed with pleasure and pride at his words.
"We are all very proud with how far you have gone with your academics. Therefore, it does pain me to be the bearer of bad news."
Hermione's face fell.
There was a long pause before he went on. He took the sheet of parchment from his desk and handed it to her.
"This came for you this morning. I was told to hand it to you in person." He said very quietly.
Puzzled, Hermione took the parchment and, without a word, began to read it. Her eyes darted back and forth across the page.
Her heart stopped.
"No," she whispered, as she read the words that screamed out at her, not believing her eyes. "No there… there has to be some mistake."
Her fingers trembled. She barely felt Professor McGonagall's comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I'm afraid not, Ms. Granger."
Dead. Oh, god. They're dead.
"I-I have to go home!"
She jumped to her feet and her voice shook. Hermione's wide, fearful eyes looked around wildly.
Dead. Mom. Dad. No, they can't be.
Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly, a pained expression on his face.
"There is nothing left Miss Granger. I'm so sorry."
She couldn't believe it. She wouldn't. But the evidence was right there before her eyes, mocking her. There was nothing left?
Oh God.
Her eyes drifted to the window and she barely heard Dumbledore's voice. Instead, her parent's voices rang in her ears. A memory of her last moments with them played in her mind's eye. The headmaster continued to speak, but she no longer cared. She was lost in the memory, never wanting to resurface and have the cold reality wash over her.
"Now you be careful, Hermione, and have a good term."
"I will, mum."
Her mother's sweet voice echoed in her ears. Soft brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
"We're proud of you, love."
"I know, dad."
She felt her father pull her into a tight hug.
Hermione shut her eyes, wanting the tears to fall, but her fervent wish wasn't granted. She felt numb inside. The words: they're dead echoed in the empty void of her despairing mind, blocking out everything and everyone.
With a start, she realized that McGonagall had brought her to the Fat Lady. The two of them stood before the open portrait.
"Get some sleep, child. You might feel better in the morning." Professor McGonagall said gently.
Hermione absentmindedly nodded as she stared at the floor. She refused to look at her Professor's face. She refused to see the pity flashing in her eyes as she looked down upon her. Hermione did not want to face the sympathy that hung on the Professor's usually solemn features. If she saw this, she knew that she would break down right then and there, and she couldn't do that.
Not now.
Not before an audience.
Sure, she may have lost control of her emotions a few times before, but this was different. This was personal, and it hurt her to her very being; her very soul. She couldn't cry before her professor and the very few Gryffindors that scattered the common room. If she did, she wasn't sure if she would ever stop.
For the first time, Hermione would wait until she was alone in the darkness of the empty girl's dormitories. Alone in her misery, with only precious memories for company. Only then would she allow the tears to fall until she drowned herself in them.
A few first years sat in a corner playing Exploding Snap, reminding her that only minutes ago she would have been one of them, laughing as they were, without a care in the world. The wall of numbness that she had unconsciously built cracked but held.
Others were scattered around the common room, and Ginny sat at a table surrounded by volumes of books.
Visions of her parents swam before Hermione's eyes. They're gone. She thought. Their voices filled her ears, drowning out the bursts of laughter and murmur of conversation surrounding her.
They're gone.
She shook her head fiercely to be rid of them.
The room was cozy and inviting. The warmth radiated from the dancing fire in the hearth, and yet she felt cold.
THEY'RE GONE.
The harsh realization of it all suddenly hit her with such a force that her mind reeled from the onslaught and the room spun. They were gone. Hermione would never see them again, and it was all her fault. The tears that she had so desperately tried to hold back blinded her as she grasped the Christmas present they had given her. The silver ring, stamped with the Greek key of eternal life and hung from a chain, felt cold. Hermione tugged at it and ignored the stares she got from her fellow Gryffindors, who now noticed her presence.
"Hermione, are you alright?" Ginny asked, now standing before her.
A jumble of emotions filled her at once. Overwhelmed, she only knew one thing: She wanted to be alone.
"Get out." she whispered.
"Hermione, what happened?" Ginny asked, her voice filled with concern.
Hermione continued to tug at the necklace.
"Get out." she said again, a little more audibly. Her eyes bore into the floor and her mental wall shattered into a thousand pieces.
"Hermione, tell me what happ-"
"Get out!" Hermione screamed. Her glistening eyes blazed with anger. Ginny and everyone else jumped at the sudden outburst. "Get out! All of you! GET OUT!"
Students scrambled out the portrait hole in haste. Some dared to glance back and sent shocked and confused looks at the angered Head Girl. Ginny hesitated.
"Please Ginny," Hermione begged. The tears were falling freely now. "Please. Just go."
Ginny uncertainly backed away and cast a worried look on her friend before climbing out the portrait hole and leaving her alone in the room. With a sob, Hermione stumbled to lean on a chair facing the fireplace.
"No." she whispered brokenly, and with a fierce tug, ripped the chain off her neck.
She looked at her present sitting on her palm. The words that came with it were clear in her mind, mocking her.
To our darling daughter. Happy Christmas, Hermione. The vacation was wonderful and we miss you dearly. Come home soon. We're proud of you, love.
"No." she said once more.
To Miss Hermione Granger: We are saddened to inform you that Mr. and Mrs. Ted Granger have been killed in a fateful accident. We assure you that the Dark mark hanging over the debris was quickly gotten rid of and no one else was hurt. The suspects will be apprehended and will indeed face dire consequences. Our deepest condolences and utmost sympathy.
Her face twisted in anguish and making a fist, she threw it away, screaming her refusal. In a frenzy, she suddenly began throwing anything that she managed to get her hands on; all the while screaming at the top of her lungs, "I hate you! I hate you!"
Finally spent with the room in disarray around her, she sank slowly onto her knees, crying softly. In those moments, all that she was and all that she could have been were torn away from her, only to be replaced with an excruciating sense of emptiness. A part of her died then. It escaped in search of them, and Hermione wasn't sure if she would ever be the same again.
End of Flashback
Harry opened his eyes, and looked around blearily. He squinted in the darkness, and after a few minutes, he made out faint outlines of what he gathered were the table, another chair, and the empty fireplace. His back ached from the position he was in while he slept in the armchair, but this didn't matter. All that mattered to him was safely sleeping in his arms.
Hermione murmured something in her sleep and snuggled closer to him.
Harry smiled down at her, feeling content. Then he blinked as the memories of last night played in his mind's eye, and his smile turned into a frown. Harry could barely see her in the darkness that enveloped them, but he could still feel her.
He saw her with his touch.
He felt her chest slowly rising and falling with every breath she took. He felt her smooth cheek that rested at the base of his neck. Her arms around him. Her lips so close. Harry swallowed and heaved a sigh as he struggled to control himself.
You're mad.
Green eyes pierced the darkness and his fingers trembled slightly as he delicately traced the soft curve of her cheek. Hermione shifted in her sleep, leaning into his touch. Harry darted his fingers away, afraid that if she would awaken, the spell would be broken. The moment would be lost, and he would have to go on pretending.
What are you doing? What are you thinking? She's your best friend for god's sakes! A voice in his head shouted at him.
He shut his eyes against the traitorous images of last night pounding into him. He wanted to hang onto the moment of bliss, and at the same time, he wanted to push it away and hide his face in shame.
What have I done?
Resting his chin on her head, he sighed.No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't let her go. He still felt her lips caressing his with a fiery passion that rivalled his own. He still felt the ghost of her hands on him; rushing through his hair, clinging to his shoulders and pulling his head down to hers.
Her parents were murdered because of you, and what did you do? Did you comfort her? No. You used her. You took advantage of her, you prat.
"It wasn't supposed to happen this way." Harry whispered, disgusted with himself.
"No, Harry. It wasn't." Hermione answered.
Harry jolted at the sound of her voice. "You're awake."
"So are you."
Neither of them made to get up. Not a word was uttered for a long while.
"It's gone. Isn't it?" Hermione asked, clearly talking about their friendship.
Harry shifted to look down at where her face would be. In his mind, he could see brown eyes filled with confusion and nervousness and that trace of sadness born of her loss that he was sure would never leave her eyes.
She waited for his answer.
"It doesn't have to be."
"We can't go back after this, Harry."
She feels nothing for you, and you are not going to lose her just because you thought with your dick instead of your head.
"You were overwhelmed with grief, and I… overreacted."
"You call this an overreaction?"
"I call it a mistake." Harry managed to choke out.
"A mistake?"
Hermione desperately wanted to see his face, but for some strange unexplainable reason, she didn't move to sit up. Harry's voice sounded strained, and she wanted to know what he was feeling. Especially what he was thinking.
"A mistake." Harry confirmed with much difficulty.
"You can't honestly tell me that you felt nothing."
I felt everything. I love you more than you can possibly imagine Hermione, but I'm not letting you get hurt again.
Harry's silence confirmed Hermione's thoughts that he was lying, but she didn't say anything.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked.
"No, but I will be." She answered.
Hermione knew that she should get up. She knew that she should have gone straight to the girl's dormitories where she would have the time and solitude to deal with her confusion and what she was going to do about it, but she didn't move.
Neither did Harry.
"No matter what, Hermione, I'll always be here for you."
"I know."
They stayed where they were, no longer sleeping. Not a single word was said after that. Not a single word was needed. In the darkness, they were free. Nothing was right or wrong. There was only the moment, and there was only each other. Embraced by the darkness, she didn't have to push him away, and he didn't have to hold back.
In the morning, they knew everything would change. They would go back to the way things were. They would pretend that nothing happened. She would eventually deal with her parent's death, and their platonic friendship would remain. But for the moment, they were no longer Harry and Hermione. They were just a boy and a girl finding comfort in each other's arms.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
And he smiled.