A/N: As always I own nothing that JK owns.
I would like to thank my beta for cleaning up this chapter. I made some changes to it as per her suggestions, although I got impatient and posted this up without her final check up. So any mistakes or confusion is my own doing. I may have to edit this in the future, if she says there's some blaring mistake.
Hermione had no time to think about the events that had happened by the forest. She was currently too busy enduring Ginny's incessant chatter and being forced into various dresses. The Festival was going to happen in three days and all the girls were shopping. It was one of the few times the whole village partook in celebrations. Although Hermione hated shopping, even she had to admit that the Festival brought her spirits up. Diagon had little to celebrate, but this Festival commemorated the defeat of the Dark Lord. Granted, if they hadn't defeated the Dark Lord near this area they wouldn't be stuck where they were now, but their ancestors expected to sacrifice a piece of themselves. They had to celebrate; their sacrifice saved the world.
Ginny led her around the town square, trying on various dresses and complaining about Harry Potter. Hermione didn't particularly care for Ginny; the girl was far more outgoing and popular than Hermione was, and she was younger. It hurt her already strained ego to know the red haired girl was loved by more people than Hermione, who had far more knowledge and potential. She could never understand why it wasn't enough that she was the smartest witch in her school. Part of her wished she could quickly find a solution to help Diagon, fantasizing herself as the heroine that all would come to love and adore.
"I really wish there was something he could do about his hair."
Hermione blinked, coming back to reality.
"Who?"
"Harry! Haven't you been paying any attention? He has got to have the worst mess of hair I've ever laid eyes on." Ginny rolled her eyes at Hermione. Certainly, if Ron were not courting Hermione, the youngest Weasley wouldn't waste her time with the brunette.
"Oh… sorry. I haven't been myself lately…" Ginny looked at her with some sympathy.
"Yes, well, what with the Festival and you almost finishing school, I guess you'd be rather distracted. Ron told me you needed a little fun and asked me to show you around."
Hermione felt wary of this sympathetic Ginny. For far too long she'd to defend herself against the cruelty of her peers. The whole village was laden with secrecy and fear, but it was hard having so many thoughts and worries that she could never share with anyone. Even if she couldn't tell Ginny about the forest and her strange sexual feelings, she did long for friendship.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I never did thank you for taking me around to shop. I know I've been rather uncooperative…" Hermione recalled that awful orange number Ginny tried to make her put on, "but umm how about I buy you something to eat to make up for it?"
Ginny perked up at this and grabbed Hermione's arm, dragging her to the nearest stand. The town center was carefully constructed; every stand was compact and on wheels so they could easily be transported to the storage building. The tables and chairs were also meticulously counted and marked so they would be quickly put into that same storage building, keeping track of items to make sure They couldn't cause damage. At night the village looked like a ghost town, just houses everywhere. In the day however, the area was lively. People sat, almost relaxed, as they ate and drank, talking animatedly with one another. The noise and company helped them forget, just enough to feel a bit normal. It was a form of rebellion against Them; to sit there and be regular people for a fleeting moment. It used to be enough for Hermione.
They picked a stand that sold sausages. Hermione wasn't a great fan of their sausages but she wanted to make up for irritating the redhead and she loved them. Just as Hermione began warming up to her and talked more freely, Ginny spotted some of her friends and invited them over. Immediately Hermione fell out of her comfort zone. The girls talked amongst one another, ignoring Hermione. Even Ginny lapsed into the habitual way others treated the brunette. It wasn't a new experience for Hermione but it still hurt. It would always hurt. She finished off her sausage and got up from her seat.
"I'm going to go Ginny; I need to do some things… I guess we can finish shopping some other time." Ginny nodded in her general direction then went back to their discussion on how annoying their teacher was.
Hermione left the town square but was still too uncomfortable about what had happened with the forest to wander off too close to the woods. Not that she should be seeking time alone with the forest in the first place… Instead she opted to take a stroll around the village. In her walk she spotted Draco Malfoy coming out of Bubbling Trouble, Diagon's popular pub, but he just threw her a dangerous look. Clearly, she wasn't going to be making friends with him. The look of disgust he gave her infuriated her, as if she was somehow dirty for having fallen for the same magic that he fell for! The two of them had both felt lust, had both wanted to go to Them. But it was she who repulsed him? She shot him a look that surpassed his own, so full of malice that he flinched and turned away from her. The bastard thought he was better than her because his father was one of the tribal members, but he fell for Them too. If anything, more easily than she had.
She clenched her jaw and strode away from him. Her footsteps led her to the Tribal Quarters; the place where the tribal members convene and initiate laws. The public was allowed to sit in on these meetings and make suggestions, though they generally sat quietly and listened. She had been to them as a little girl; for the most part they were quite boring, discussing what new kind of plant would be the theme for the latest party, or arguing about one person damaging another person's property. The most important policies had already been put into place, shortly after They appeared. However, there was one vicious period of time when the subtle, dormant fear permeating Diagon fully rose to the surface.
The human world would have quickly run out of resources after spending so many decades cloistered together in a village, as small as Diagon. Especially since the beings in the forest liked to come out and destroy everything that wasn't secure in a building. However, the wizarding world did have its advantages. With the help of potions, crops were capable of growing in dark, in the largest and most secure building in Diagon, protection from Them. Their potion resources had never dwindled since the war, the tribal members were careful of that. According to historical documentation, the people of Diagon were returning home from the war, the only group of people to have fought the war without wasting their resources. They were rich with potions supplies and farm animals. Then they became trapped in an enchanted forest teeming with evil beings that wanted them dead.
In Hermione's opinion, potions were the only trump card the wizarding world truly had. The runes and symbols were tediously slow to complete and difficult to memorize, but potions helped solve many problems far more quickly, although there was little variety in the plant life they utilized. It was still dangerous to experiment with potions; however, one man had excellent potions capabilities. Severus Snape had been the Potions Master. He had been the most knowledgeable and had actively helped defeat the Dark Lord. Some would say that without him, they would all be dead. The biggest shock to have ever hit Diagon: his execution.
The people in the room sat in hushed silence as they watched Severus Snape enter, his hands bound and mouth gagged. Hermione hated this place, it was hot and sweaty and disgusting. She was too young to fully understand why that man was there. He was forced to kneel before the tribal members, who watched him with disdain from behind their tall podium. Cornelius Fudge stood up from his seat, deep blue robes shifting:
"This man is charged with the high order of treason against Diagon; charged with consorting with the Enemy and charged with conspiracy to commit murder! The members have listened to a multitude of evidence against you, the witnesses and the vials containing potions meant to lift our protective charms, exposing all of Diagon to Them."
The people in the room were horrified. Weeks of deliberation had revealed that their once hero, Severus Snape, had ties to the Dark Lord. He was a double agent working against the citizens of Diagon this whole time. Somehow he was allied with Them, had been meeting with Them past curfew and planning to concoct a potion that would expose the people to the Forest. All they had was the belief that their homes would keep them safe, and this whole time Snape was plotting to leave them utterly defenseless against the demons in the woods. The fear turned to palpable rage:
"Kill the bastard!"
"Burn him!"
"Hang him by his treacherous throat!"
"There must be punishment! There must be consequence!"
People were jumping out of their seats, screaming with fury. They wanted his blood, his pound of flesh; he had to be snuffed out of existence!
"ORDER!" People paused, slowly regaining control over themselves. "Hem, hem. There must be order. We are not to turn into animals." The high pitched, slightly grating voice of Umbridge somehow broke through heavy the air.
Fudge nodded somberly, returning his attention to Snape once the cries died down and people sat rigidly in their seats.
"After careful deliberation, we the tribunal, find you guilty, of all charges."
Hermione flinched as everyone got up and started screaming again. She was scared and wanted her mum to hug her. The people were shouting too loud. But her mother was one of the people shouting, so she defensively crouched in her seat, hiding her bushy head from the angry people. She felt dizzy.
"The sentence is death!"
The screaming was so loud and so angry. Hermione watched as the greasy haired man, was lifted and forced down the walkway, their eyes connected. His expression was defiant and strong. His posture was proud and calm, although Hermione could see signs of pain in him; he limped and cringed as he moved. He was a bad man, a very bad man, brave as he was.
Hermione never got to see the execution. She was glad for that. Through bits and pieces she gleaned that they had ritualistically crushed his limbs and flayed his skin for two days. This helped create a specific spell that warded off unwanted people. It was used to bar anyone from entering Snape's home, except for the tribal members, because it contained all the vital potions and recipes. During the deliberation, many villagers had attempted to raid his home and destroy it, but his materials and texts were vital to the survival of the people. His tools were also highly difficult to replicate and his journals were massive. No one was allowed to use potions thereafter, not without the tribal members' permission.
She walked past the Tribal Quarters and began to make her way home. This was too much for her, so many depressing thoughts. As she neared her home she glanced at the forest. Without the rain it was just trees. Hermione had to remind herself that it was only trees. Her fixation with it was driving her mad. She laughed nervously as she walked toward her home then paused just outside her door. In spite of herself, she looked at the woods.
She wanted to know what was in there. She wanted to know desperately. Hermione bit her bottom lip as she gazed out. Never had she felt as she did in the rain. It was terrifying, and good.
"Hermione?"
She jumped a little, getting irritated at how people seemed to consistently wait for her to stare at the forest with a zombie expression before they scared her into nearly collapsing.
"Yes?" She asked in a strained voice as her mother rounded the corner with a basket full of laundry.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing, I was just daydreaming."
Her mother nodded. "Alright, well, when you're done, feel free to lend your poor mother a hand with the laundry." She murmured with a raised eyebrow.
Sheepishly, Hermione followed her mother into the house, momentarily deterred from the trees.
*****
Hermione sat in her room, reading her one of her school textbooks for the third time. She had it memorized by now. Her chores were finished and she had just eaten in the dining room with her parents. They talked of inane subjects before Hermione finally gave up pretending to be interested and left for her bedroom.
"Hermione," came her father's muffled call, "nightfall is coming."
"Alright…" she called back, checking to make sure her chamber pot was empty and under her bed. There was a pitcher of water on her bedside table in case she needed water in the night; she wouldn't be able to leave her room until dawn so it was important that she had everything. Her candle flickered but she had extra candles in her drawer.
Her parents called to her when night had finally fallen. They had gone to bed early, they usually did. Hermione supposed that it was good they couldn't leave their rooms after night, no way to keep tabs on whether she was sleeping. Her reading usually continued long into the night.
Sitting on her bed, leaning over her textbook, it didn't take long before she developed a crick in her neck. She moaned softly as she carefully turned her head and flexed. Then she froze. One of the corners of the burlap cloth had come loose.
She stared at it from the corner of her eye, feeling numb. If her eye so much as flickered in its direction…
Carefully, she got up from her bed and walked over to the window until she was directly in front of it. She couldn't see through that corner anymore but was intensely staring at the cloth.
Would it really be so dangerous? Just a peek?
If these beings were… individuals, then who was to say They were standing just outside her window? What if They didn't even catch her peeking at Them? She swallowed hard but whatever lump was there refused to move away.
If I just… tilt my head like so… and quickly glance… surely, nothing would happen?
The internal struggle made her break out into a sweat. She wanted to see, she wanted to know. These creatures ran everyone's lives, They destroyed everything They touched! Hermione did not know what normal was, how did the outside world define normal? What were They? What were They?
Hermione was breathing hard, hands balled into fists as she crouched down in front of the window. Slowly and cautiously, she inched over to the left side of the window, the one with the exposure. When she was just under it she had to take a moment and slow down her breathing, still too frightened to look up, to incline her head and lean in…
Am I really going to do this? Am I going to risk my life? Just to know the unknown? But am I truly alive in the first place?
Her heart pounded very loudly in her ears. She could feel its strong pulse throughout her entire body. There was acid in her mouth and her body felt weak as she trembled. She had to settle on her knees, incapable of crouching any longer.
Oh God. Just a peek. Just one peek. Oh God, Oh my God. Oh sweet Lord. Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh -
She tilted her head upward, quick short breaths coming from her parted lips. Her left brown eye neared the exposed hole. She was shaking and broke as finally, finally she looked through the hole.
It was dark. But there was a brightness outside. No clouds? She glanced up at the sky for a moment, in awe of the moon. She had only ever read about it in books. It positively glowed.
Her breath was shallow; she didn't realize her whole body was completely rigid, tightly wound in an awkward position. Yet she felt no discomfort.
She saw nothing. There was barely any outline of the forest, even in the moonlight.
Against her will her body began to relax. The adrenaline was in her system but it wasn't going anywhere, wasn't being used up. She continued to gawk at the woods, unaware that her mouth had gone dry from panting at the air. Her eye was dry.
Nothing? Nothing at all?
She felt confused. Her body calmed enough to let her blink.
A flash of silver, a wave of lust!
Hermione screamed and fell backwards. Eyes shut tight she convulsed on the floor. There was a rushing sound in her ears as something pulled at her.
My love, come to me.
Hermione groaned (with pleasure). Raw sexual energy coursed through her body, rendering her a gibbering mess. She tried to scramble up and away from the window (the wet heat between her legs intensified) but she fell again.
"Oh no" she gasped, on her hands and knees, ass up in the air. Her hips bucked as another sharp wave of pleasure hit her from her sex to every extremity. She was whimpering and whining and moaning and wanting…
You will come to me; come for me, my love.
Panic coursed through her mind, only to be changed into desire, wild lust. Her head turned to the cloth covered window, eyes glazed and a thin line of saliva running down her chin. She dug her nails hard into the floorboard. This was insanity! The connection wouldn't go away! She didn't even know what she saw! She was dead, but she wanted it, she wanted it so damn bad. Her body cried, cried long and loud, and her mind was fighting with it. Her conscious mind was horrified: her body was inching to the window.
She forced herself to stop, a pained groan shooting through her as her body's need conflicted with her mind's rationale. Sex or death?
To deny me is death… I will make you live again. My mouth… my hands…
Hermione made a pitiful whimpering sound, how were these thoughts coming to her? How could she make them stop?
Suddenly, she spotted her textbook. She grabbed it and aimed the sharp corner at the back of her left hand as it supported her weight on the floor. Hermione viciously struck her hand as hard as she could. If it weren't for the silencing charms, the whole town would have heard her scream.
But it worked. In an instant the feelings went away, the voice disappeared and Hermione fell to the floor a sopping mess. Suddenly struck by pain and a wave of dizziness she quickly grabbed her chamber pot with her good hand and, barely in time, retched into it.
Her hand and sex throbbed simultaneously. She felt exhausted and confused. What on earth was that? Hermione stiffened when she realized the window still had an open slit exposing her. Could They be watching her right now? Her shaking came back tenfold and another layer of cold sweat broke out on her clammy skin, feeling violated she quickly scrambled over to the window, head to the floor, as she reached up and fumbled to close the burlap cloth. Her left hand hurt like hell but she ignored it. Once the curtain was hooked up, she leaned against the wall just under the window and took careful breaths between her legs, until she realized what the smell between her legs was. Feeling mortified she stripped off her clothes and changed into clean ones, trying to ignore the slick feeling between her legs. To her utter embarrassment she had to wipe her inner thighs with the soiled clothes before she tossed them into the laundry bin and curled into the fetal position on her bed.
She blew out her candle two hours later, after her fear slipped away and her mind became calmer. Small anxiety attacks came and went but, whatever the connection she had with Them was severed. The voice had sounded like a woman… A woman and lust? Her brain was too tired to work on all this new information. She had been through too much. Exhaustion was finally overtaking her.
Was that silver hair she had seen? But the question would be forgotten and lost as Hermione fell asleep.
A/N: Hope y'all like it. Thanks to the new people to added me as fave and whatnot. As for those who are pulling out their hair waiting for Fleur....it would kill the story if I introduced her any time soon... but not to worry, I'll get to it lol At the moment, the story is plot heavy and focused on Hermy. Please review, always good for an ego stroke, plus its a good indicator of whether or not I'm still keeping peoples attention lol :)
