content warning: depression, anxiety, ptsd
December
WAR HERO RETURNS: HERMIONE GRANGER SPOTTED AT DIAGON ALLEY
By E. M. Striker / December 21, 2005
It is today, on the fifth anniversary of the release of six shocking interview excerpts, that the wizarding world welcomes Hermione Granger back for the Christmas holidays. The war hero has spent the greater part of the past two years in the muggle community of Oxford, where she is pursuing an ambitious graduate course in psychology, a muggle study of the brain, and international policy.
One has to wonder what Ms. Granger will pursue upon completion of this degree. Will she, like fellow war heroes and current Aurors Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, join the government's noble cause? Or will she forge a new path? Ms. Granger, when asked on future plans, declined to comment.
When asked why Ms. Granger spends the majority of her time in the muggle world, Auror Weasley responded, "Hermione needs some time away to heal. Not that she's hiding or anything, of course. Hermione's a Gryffindor; she's brave, and she'll return when she's ready. She's doing amazing things at that muggle university. They're lucky to have her."
This is the sort of loyalty that explains their great victory seven years ago. One has to wonder whether Ms. Granger has told Auror Potter or Auror Weasley of the truth behind her cryptic comment - we all remember the iconic quote. "He saved me, and I killed him," she said on March 17, 1998. Is this a figure of speech? Has the war hero truly killed a man? Who is this mystery man?
Mr. Colin Creevey, owner of the popular conspiracy forum Snapped, says, "She's referring to Draco Malfoy, of course. We all thought he died at the Battle of Hogwarts, but, according to the Ministry leak, he died on January 2nd. She was in Malfoy manor that night; obviously, something happened."
When asked whether he thought Ms. Granger had actually killed the younger Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Creevey responded, "Of course not! Hermione's not a murderer. It must be a figure of speech."
Figure of speech or not, we are all seeking the truth; if you have any information relating to the Ministry leak - who leaked the interviews? Who is the interviewer? How and when did Draco Malfoy die? - the Daily Prophet will reward all promising leads with a sum of one hundred galleons.
Hermione flings the paper down with a huff, narrowly missing her mug of tea, and Harry eyes her worriedly over his breakfast of eggs and buttered toast. "What rubbish have they written now?" he asks, pausing mid-smear.
She gestures at the paper. "This blasted reporter is frustratingly nosy," she says. "She's gotten a quote from Creevey, of all people, and it's just going to make people interested all over again."
She'd thought she could put all memories of January the 2nd to rest, but the leak of the six interviews, thankfully all redacted and cryptic, has ensured the public's curiousity. The Ministry has assured her that they've stopped the leaks, but they refuse to tell her who is responsible. Shacklebolt will tell her only that it has been taken care of, but it is hard to believe that anything has been 'taken care of' when she sees Malfoy's face everywhere she looks.
It is a fitting punishment, she supposes. He saved her all those years ago by pretending not to recognise her - she, who had been his classmate for six years. It is only right that she should now be forced to see him.
"Hermione," Harry begins, and he sets his toast down delicately on his plate.
She feels dread clench her throat shut. "Harry, please," she says, and her voice is hoarse. "Not now."
She doesn't know how much Harry knows about the events of January the 2nd; as an Auror, he has access to many classified Ministry files. She just doesn't know whether he has access to the file, the one exposing her guilt and shame. She hopes that he hasn't seen it, for she can't bear to see his shock, his disappointment.
She hopes that he has seen it, for if he can still look at her in the eyes like this, full of concern, even after seeing the evidence of her sins, then maybe there is still hope for her.
Harry's mouth flattens but, thankfully, he drops the subject. He resumes buttering his toast, and the silence pools thickly around them. Hermione swallows around the lump in her throat. "She's brave," Ron had said.
The thought forces a laugh from her throat, and Harry looks up in alarm. She waves him away, muttering something about remembering something Ginny had said to her, and he nods haltingly, clearly unconvinced.
She is not brave - not anymore.
The early morning sun filters through the Burrow's windows, scattering cheerful patterns across the wooden table. The Weasleys are still fast asleep, and it has become Harry and Hermione's tradition to have breakfast together before the rest of the household wakes. Hermione has come to savor these quiet hours. Harry knows her better than anyone, she thinks, which is why she can summon the courage to ask, "Harry, what is happening overseas? After your letter, I searched magical and muggle papers for news, but there was little to go off of. Is there - is there truly a threat?"
Harry hesitates. There are darker shadows than usual under his green eyes, and he suddenly looks tired and utterly different from the schoolboy she once knew. "You won't find much in the papers; governments everywhere have been working overtime to hush things up."
"Hush what up?" she asks.
When Harry does not immediately answer, she leans forward, saying, "Harry, please. Please. If something is going on, I have a right to know."
He looks at her, something sad in his expression, before nodding. "There's a new group of radical American witches and wizards wishing to break down the barrier between magic wielders and muggles. They call themselves MFI; Magic-wielders For Integration. They're mostly muggleborns and half-bloods, and they seem to think combining the two worlds will benefit both; something about combining science with magic to create a sum greater than its parts. Normally, we wouldn't worry about this, but several members have been elected to high positions in the American government. The cause is spreading to other countries; an MFI member was recently elected mayor of a town just an hour south of London. The MFI is gaining popularity and influence suspiciously quickly; the Ministry suspects Dark magic is aiding their cause."
When her eyes widen, he adds hurriedly, "Not Voldemort. That bastard's definitely dead."
The sound of his name sends a shiver down her spine. Voldemort is dead. Dead, like Malfoy. She shakes this thought free, disentangling her mind from its sinuous barbs, and says, "How do they propose combining the two worlds without causing mass chaos? The last time muggles suspected magic existed, they burned hundreds at the stake."
Harry shrugs. "They argue the world has changed since then. They think the potential benefits of combining modern science with magic are worth the risk. The MFI claims to seek an equal partnership, but I can't help but wonder if a truly equal relationship is at all possible. As noble as their cause might claim to be, these are two populations who know little about each other, and they will have little reason to feel altruistically. If MFI gets its way, another war may be inevitable."
The word - war - makes Hermione's teeth clench tight. Logically, Harry's reasoning is sound; kin selection is a common concept in evolutionary psychology, after all. People are more likely to sacrifice for those closest to them. She hates to think what would happen when nuclear weapons and magic combined; is it even possible to have a winner in this situation?
No. There are no winners in war, only those desperate enough to sacrifice their morality to survive. This is a lesson she knows well.
She forces herself to exhale, pushing her shoulders down from their hunched position by her ears, and meets Harry's eyes. "What can I do to help?" she asks. The words are slow to come, but she says it all the same. As loathe as she is to subject herself to this potential danger, she cannot in good conscience sit by idly whilst knowing that she could be doing something.
Hermione has no desire for another war.
Harry doesn't look surprised that she has volunteered to help, and she feels another rush of affection for her friend. He has such faith in her character - more than she holds - and it is comforting to know that that, at least, has not changed. "I, er, actually wasn't supposed to share anything with you yet, but Kingsley has been seeking potential sources."
"Sources?"
Harry nods, looking reluctant. "Yes - he wants to plant some people in the inside. Hermione, I told him not to ask you; you're so close to finishing your degree and, I'm sorry, but we both know that, well…"
His voice trails off. He doesn't need to finish the sentence. We both know that you aren't the same. We both know you lost your spark after the war. We both know you are no longer a protector but someone who needs protecting.
Her fingernails dig into her palms, and she hides their shaking by burying her fist deep in her lap. Her knee jumps to a frantic rhythm, but above the table, her face is still as stone. It makes sense; she is studying at a muggle university. She is muggleborn and a war hero, the perfect evidence of what good can come from uniting muggle with witch. Who better than she to join MFI?
"Harry Potter," she says, and her voice is frigid, "I can handle myself. I have saved your sorry arse more times than I can count. And I will certainly not scurry back to my library whilst you and Ron are risking your lives - especially for this cause."
He smiles, but the same sadness is back in his eyes. "I thought you would say that," Harry says. "Kingsley did, too."
She returns the gesture. Kingsley is the Minister of Magic, and he has done much to improve the government. Under his influence, whole departments were remodeled entirely. He has discarded useless positions created solely for nepotism and replaced them with a leaner model of government. It is several steps in the right direction, and his approval pleases her.
"It's too soon to involve you, though," Harry says. "Having someone of your fame affiliated with the MFI would grant them too much influence here in the UK. We're hoping we won't have to involve you at all; the Aurors have been working around the clock to investigate."
She hopes it won't come to it but knows better than to expect anything but the worst. "So, I am supposed to wait around?"
Harry winces. "No," he says hurriedly. He pauses. "Well, yes, but that doesn't mean you have to do nothing. If you hear word of MFI supporters, you can let me know. Just - don't get too involved. Not yet, at least. It'll draw too much attention."
Again, her reputation is a shackle on her ankle. It is part of the reason why she spends so much time in the muggle world. She does not like having her actions tracked, does not like being the subject of investigative journalism. She dislikes the questions most of all.
She nods, haltingly, and Harry's shoulders loosen. "How will I know when it's time?" she asks.
Harry picks up her discarded paper and, flipping it over, points to the front page. "When you see MFI reach the front page, you'll know we were unsuccessful in heading them off."
She nods. Her eyes linger on the black and white photo at the top of the page; it's a grainy photo of her. She looks tired, the slope of her shoulders speaking of defeat rather than triumph. The photographer had caught her leaving a bookstore, and the caption reads, "MS. HERMIONE GRANGER, pictured left, displays her support for independent bookstores."
The label isn't technically false; she does still enjoy a good bookstore, especially a small one, for those are the ones that smell like faded ink and parchment. Still, the caption doesn't sit quite right. It's too much like the old Hermione and not this new, crumpled version.
Harry pushes his last slice of toast towards her. "Eat," he says, and she accepts it. She knows she's lost some weight. She's never been a stress eater, and she's found that almost all foods taste like dry straw in her mouth. She knows she should be better. It's been seven years, for Merlin's sake. Even Harry has recovered, and she knows he faced the worst of the war. The wizarding world didn't pin all of their hopes on her, after all; they counted on Harry, teenager or not.
Her hand shakes, and this time she cannot quite conceal the trembling. Harry stands and comes to her side of the table. He looks at her with such sadness that she feels her eyes grow wet. Bollocks. She has no desire to worry him.
She swipes at her tears, hoping he hasn't noticed, but of course he has - he's Harry. He kneels and, without a word, draws her into a hug. His Christmas jumper is soaked by the time they part.
NOTES FROM SESSION 128; 29.12.2005
PATIENT 15: Ms. HERMIONE GRANGER
History of Present Illness: 24 y o woman with severe PTSD came in for her weekly appointment. She recently returned from a trip to visit childhood friends for the holidays. She has not noticed any physical changes to her condition but admits that she is still suffering from severe insomnia and anxiety attacks. She complains of a tightness in her chest and lethargy.
Social History: Patient lives in Oxford alone. Patient is enrolled in PhD program at Oxford. Patient does not use illegal drugs, tobacco, or alcohol.
Family History: Patient's mother and father live in Surrey. There is no family history of cancer.
Medications:
Fluoxetine 20 mg - selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor for panic disorder
Assessment and Plan: 24 y o woman presents significant symptoms associated with PTSD. Patient experiences involuntary flashbacks and bad dreams. Patient also experiences insomnia and persistent negative thoughts. Patient is withdrawn and continues to be reluctant to answer questions. She will not elaborate on the cause of her symptoms but has hinted at betraying a significant figure in her life.
It is our recommendation to increase her dose from 20 mg to 30 mg daily and to continue regular psychotherapy appointments.
Author Note: thank you for reading and to everyone for your reviews! I love reading your thoughts, and each reviewer will get a teaser of the next chapter ;)