Written In The Body

Poetheather

A/N: There will be a number of mature things discussed including torture, same sex relationships, violence and others… you have been warned.

This is a work of fiction using the characters created by J.K. Rowling. They are not used with her permission. All actions follow the events of book seven of the series, excluding the epilogue. Any similarity between any person living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional. If you happen to find your life reflected in this piece I'll be impressed.

Nine

Hermione was tangled in her blankets and her knickers were more than just a little damp when she woke up. Images of the dream danced clearly through her mind, now unfettered, set free by her pursuit of the truth. All she could do at this point was lie back on her bed and groan, resting her forearm over her eyes. There was no hiding from the perfect recall of memory now. Things in that dream had been very clear and left no doubt at all in her mind who it had been about. What was she going to do?

Worse than the damp knickers, was that fact that she ached a little down there, not in pain, but in need, yearning for touch, a wanting, for something or more specifically someone to touch her, to slide fingers between her lips and fill her in a way that she never had been. All she could do was grumble in annoyance as the clock on her bedside showed that it was close to breakfast time and there really was no time right now to take care of that need either in bed or in the shower before food would be on the table. No, she would have to go downstairs and deal with her parents with her nethers throbbing this way, just asking to be touched. All she could hope was that her nipples would play along and not get too hard all on their own to proclaim her state of arousal to her parents. Her robe would help but only so much. She thanked the stars it was not as obvious as it would be on a guy. That would be completely mortifying.

She headed into the bathroom to take care of other needful things and saw the mess that was her hair. It took some concerted effort with her brush and spellwork to get it less tousled bedhead and more respectable. She splashed some cold water on her face which helped cool her ardor a touch and headed downstairs. Her father saw her and smiled, saying, "Morning Hermione."

"Morning Dad."

"Did you sleep well?"

"I slept fairly fitfully." said Hermione, having a seat. She poured herself some tea from the pot, fixing it with some honey and milk just as she liked it. Maybe the little bit of caffeine would help.

"Sorry to hear that. Was there something keeping you up?" Her father put down his paper and looked at his daughter worriedly.

"I… I had a few things on my mind, that's all." said Hermione as she got some toast and spread butter and marmalade on it, trying to avoid eye contact.

Her mother came in and sat down, taking in Hermione's appearance in a quick glance. She asked with some concern, "Trouble sleeping?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's probably nothing more than you just got used to sleeping with Ginny." commented her mother, almost as an aside.

Hermione almost spat her tea everywhere and it was only through the greatest of efforts that she was able to swallow. What was her mother thinking? She set down her cup and asked, "You think?"

"Honestly Hermione, the two of you were sharing the same bed for several weeks. That is certainly enough time for your body to get used to something, especially while sleeping. It probably took a few days to get used to sleeping with her at first and you'll get used to sleeping alone again in a few days. There is nothing to worry about." commented her mother, clearly not worried about this development. She looked over at her daughter with a slight smile.

Hermione could not meet her mother's eyes as she finished her meal. That whole idea was almost too much to deal with, especially with the current revelations and the renewed pulsing in her loins that came back when her mother brought up her and Ginny sleeping together.

Once she was finished eating, Hermione fled upstairs and got dressed for the day, thinking that perhaps going for a walk and reading something somewhere away from home might be a safe plan, at least until her parents left for their clinic so she wouldn't have to face them while thoughts of Ginny molesting her or vice versa ran through her head. She started heading downstairs with her copy of Lord of the Rings so she could have another read through when the doorbell rang. Being the closest to the front door at the moment, she called out, "I've got it."

Wand at the ready and off to the side, Hermione opened the door. There standing on their front stoop was an elderly woman dressed in such an amalgam of fashion types that it clearly screamed wizarding born witch to Hermione. She narrowed her eyes, her combat skills getting ready even though this woman did not seem like an enemy, but she had learned not to judge on appearances. She had clearly seen too much to trust appearances alone. "Can I help you?"

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger, you are just the person I am looking for, may I please come in?" The woman's voice was friendly and welcoming, enough to get most anyone else to lower their guard.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked, still on her guard, her grip tightening on Bellatrix's wand.

"Ah… yes, how forgetful of me. I quite understand. I am Christiana Warbeck. I work for the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Wizengamot Administrative Services, specifically dealing with Last Wills and Testaments. It is a distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The introduction threw Hermione some. She had not expected a Ministry employee to show up at her house. In point of fact, she liked the fact that living a more muggle life kept the magical world away from her for the most part. Daily Prophet reporters did not show and clamoring fans even stayed away, worried about breaking the State Statue of Secrecy. "A pleasure. Come inside please."

She led the woman into the living room, where she motioned to her to sit down. The woman sat and Hermione followed suit. "Would you like me to get you some tea?"

"No thank you. I would rather prefer to get down to business if you don't mind. I am following up on an amendment to the Will of Remus John Lupin that was processed through Gringotts towards the end of April of this year. That was all very legal, proper and managed to nicely dodge the recent unpleasantness. I am here to carry out one of his bequests."

"Professor Lupin left me a bequest?" replied Hermione quite confused.

"Yes he did." She pulled something out of her pocket, set it on the floor. She drew out a wand from her robes and then, with a familiar gesture of her wand and a muttered incantation, the trunk expanded to full size. She handed over a sheet of parchment to Hermione and said, "According to his Will, the bequest is to deliver this trunk to you along with the following message, 'The name is the key.' I do hope that is clear enough to you as no one else in my department has been able to make heads or tails of it and the trunk has some of the most interesting security spells on it I have ever seen, including some I am unfamiliar with."

"Not really." said Hermione. She noticed that the lock had no keyhole, which was intriguing, though given the use of magic not that unusual all things considered. There was surely several different ways to secure a chest with magic. "Thank you though."

"Thank you. Well I must be off. I have a few more deliveries to make today. My work is rarely ever done. There is a sadness to it but it is fulfilling. Thank you so much for… well, for everything really." The older woman seemed a bit at a loss for words, coloring a little.

"You are quite welcome." replied Hermione, glad she had been taking a break from the wizarding world if it meant that there would be more encounters like this. Having people thank her for basically fighting to stay alive seemed like a strange thing. And they seemed so grateful for it as well. She really had no idea how to deal with it. She was getting a much clearer idea of what Harry had been going through all these years.

She escorted the woman out and then returned to the chest, staring at it, cocking her head slightly to the side as she considered it. Her mother came in, took a look at it and asked, "I noticed that you were talking to what looked like a Ministry employee, so I left you alone. What's this?"

"Apparently my old teacher Professor Lupin left me something in his will. It is this chest and clearly whatever is inside." replied Hermione, her eyes never leaving the chest, tracing over the complex pattern of runes and sigils on the metal banding. There were even some interesting runes and such on the wood. This really was a heavily protected object. The wood was a deep rich reddish brown color with dark brown leather straps and what looked like brushed copper or bronze bands.

Her mind was running over the message the woman had left, the name is the key. There is no way that it would be Lupin or Remus, as those names were far too easy to get as anyone would know to use them. That would also eliminate John as well, for obvious reasons. In order to actually secure the trunk it would have to be something private. What name would he use that no one else would know? The only thing that she could think about was… Hermione smiled, leaned down near the lock and whispered confidently, "Moony."

The lock popped open and she was able to lift up the lid, with a broad grin on her face. There were five nested, locked trunk lids in there, with two letters in envelopes with wax seals lying on top, one with her name on it written in Professor Lupin's familiar hand writing, and a key ring with five keys. Keeping the keys locked in there was certainly a way to keep everything nice and secured, except from other Marauders. She picked up the letter and pulled it out. Wondering what he had to say to her to explain this, she opened it with trembling fingers.

Dear Hermione,

You really are the brightest witch of your age and that is something I admire about you. If I am not standing there handing you this than something bad has clearly happened to me. This is not altogether unexpected in a time of war but distressing nonetheless. What I am presenting you with is a temporary loan if you will, until the permanent owner is of age.

What I am giving to you are my private school journals. In these are the details of spells I worked out, pranks we pulled, discoveries we made, how we built the Marauders Map, the mirrors, how the others became Animagi, and many more things. All the secrets of the Marauders are yours, as well as a few other items that I learned after our school days.

I do this not because I owe you, or something like that but rather because of a common bond that I feel you and I share. The two of us are the brains behind our bolder friends. We are the ones who ensure they can succeed. We are the rational voices that keep them from total destruction. We work harder than others and help them to learn the things they need to in order to survive often times themselves. And we are also both scorned by the larger wizarding society for no other valid reason save being who we are. We really are far more alike than we are different Hermione and that is the reason that I knew that I had to let you read these. Great minds should share wisdom after all.

I do ask you though that when Teddy comes of age and heads off to Hogwarts that you dole these out, providing him with the appropriate years journals at the appropriate time. I know I can trust you to do this because you are a true unwavering Gryffindor in the pursuit of what you believe. That way my son can get to know me in this manner and learn lessons that the school never taught.

Take care of yourself Hermione Granger. May you find true happiness and love, even if it occurs for you like it did with me, coming at you from an unexpected place. Do not struggle against it like I did, you will only lose in the end. Remember, you have earned it.

Your friend,

Remus J Lupin

Hermione put down the letter and sat back in her chair, stunned, wiping a few tears from her face. Was she really being given access to the Marauders combined wisdom, well more specifically Lupin's but it was practically the same thing? Despite her original reticence about the Map and some of their ideals, she had to admit some of the things the Marauders had come up with were amazing and had saved their lives quite a few times. If Lupin were the brains behind the Marauders, and after having met Sirius and Pettigrew it was not all that difficult to believe, then this was an incredible gift. There was so much she could do with this, so many ways that she could use this information. But to think that Professor Lupin had thought of her towards the end… he really was a great man.

Taking the key ring, she moved the other letter which read Teddy, and unlocked the first section which opened up to a large section filled with leather bound journals. She estimated that there must be at least forty or fifty of them at the very least. If this part was nothing but journals than what was in the other four sections? Her curiosity was growing and it would certainly need to be sated.

"So this is something good then? You clearly seem pleased." said her mother, trying to understand exactly what it was that her daughter had just received. It looked interesting.

"Mom, Professor Lupin was a wonderful professor that we had in our third year. He was the most helpful Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we ever had who was very knowledgeable and could teach well. On top of that, when he had been in school he was part of a group of boys, which included Harry' father and Godfather, that were known for pulling elaborate pranks and generally getting away with it. He was the brains behind it all. These are his journals of all the things they had done in school, the magic they had created, everything, as well as a few other things. It is an incredible gift." gushed Hermione looking down at the journals with undisguised lust in her eyes. "And when his son is of age I am to give him the journals and maybe a few other items. So I do get them for a good while. I am quite touched by this."

"You'll make use of this then?" asked her mother with some humor in her voice.

"Oh yes." Hermione pulled out one of the journals at the top. On the first page it read, The Journal of Remus J. Lupin, Age 11, Gryffindor House, Journal 2.

"Well, you have fun with this. Your father and I have to go in to work. Call if you need us." Her mother hugged her and kissed the top of her head.

Hermione had to admit that she did like that her parents were more demonstrative with their affection now as opposed to before. It seemed that the stress of the Obliviation, the overlaid personalities, and recovery had an effect on that part of their actual personalities. She could not argue with this change as she had to admit that she approved. All that time spent with the Weasleys had gotten her much more used to such an emotionally affectionate family and she had come to enjoy it, even crave it to a degree. Her parents even seemed pleased by this change. "Bye mom. I'll be here or if I go anywhere, I will leave you a note or call."

Her parents left the house and she could hear the car driving away. She had found the first journal and she was currently torn. Did she want to start reading these or continue her important research? Without that she could not really figure out what to do and she was sure that she would be interacting with Ginny sooner rather than later. The birthday party for Harry was coming up and if she did not have this issue settled by then it was going to be very uncomfortable for her to be around her favorite red head. Despite this treasure trove at her finger tips that was calling out for her to delve into it, she needed to deal with the more pressing issue.

Reluctantly she dropped the journal back into the chest. This was frustrating but she had a responsibility to herself to solve this particular riddle. If she could do that then a part of herself might fall into place and that would provide some much needed relief. She had not really covered enough of the material to honestly be able to figure anything out with complete accuracy, at least to her standards. However, she had to admit that the more she read the less likely it was becoming that this was either a weird phase she was in or merely an errant fancy. No this did seem like it was a truth but she wanted to be sure. It would not do to for her to leap before looking.

Taking the chest upstairs, Hermione got out her new books and started reading again, one of the other books she had purchased on coming out. As she was going through it, everything kept sounding more and more familiar, like the experiences being described were taken right from her own life, as if some of these experiences were pictures in her own life. She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Closing that book, she grabbed one of the books she had bought on relationships, reading about some of the issues involved in two women being together. Things seemed to be pretty much the same as any other relationship, but there did seem to be a few incidental differences.

And then she got to a section discussing sex. She started blushing as she read those parts, the parts that talked about the simple and basic aspects of sex for lesbian couples. Her face burned and it was difficult to keep reading, but keep reading she did as she also could not really look away either. She did find herself getting aroused and even a wet as she read more, as her imagination lingered on the descriptions of various practices. Her breathing got a bit rough as she started thinking about red hair, slender arms and lips that she really wanted to taste in terms of those particular sexual sequences. She groaned in want.

With one hand she began to unconsciously rub one of her breasts, her thoughts drifting as she began to picture scenes from her own dreams. It felt pleasurable and her nipple grew erect under her fingers, the moves turning more focused and intentional. Her hand slid down and then up under her blouse, rubbing on the satiny fabric of her bra, occasionally cupping and squeezing, giving her a variety of sensations. Realizing that she might want some absolute privacy while she did this, despite knowing that her parents were at work, she quickly cast a locking spell on the door and a silencing spell to mask any noise she might make.

This felt so good. She had masturbated some while she had been at school, as privacy spells worked well on the drapes of the beds and she had been alone in the Prefect bath a few times. But it had almost always been while she had been fantasizing about Ron or some vague red headed male. It had been good and she had certainly enjoyed getting off, but now it was pictures of the youngest Weasley running through her head and there seemed to be a greater charge to them, more excitement, a much higher erotic charge to everything.

The book, no longer needed, dropped to the mattress and that hand snaked down her body, to unbutton her jeans, sliding down her zipper and slipping into her panties. She was so very wet and the first touch was electric as her finger brushed across her clitoris. It gave her a jolt and she practically gasped at how aroused she was. She dipped into her already deepening pool of wet and dragged it up, to make things more comfortable and easier as she played her fingers over herself, rolling and brushing her clit just the way she liked.

Pictures of her kissing Ginny, of kissing down the girl's neck to the red head's freckled breasts, of running her hands over the curves, over the play of athletic muscles, the taut buttocks, to come around the hip, sliding through curly red hair to dip her own fingers into Ginevra's cleft, to feel the girl's own liquidy slickness rolled through her mind. It made her pant, her head thrown back into the pillows, the speed and pressure of her fingers increasing, her other one pinching and flicking her nipples. The pleasure within her kept building, increasing, and her mind still imagining things, of Ginny kissing her, of pleasuring her, fingers sliding inside, curling within her. As she pictured the redhead smiling up at her from between her legs, warm brown eyes filled with happiness and mischief, Hermione moaned out phrases wordlessly, her body shaking as the climax slammed into her like the Whomping Willow.

Lying there, smelling her own arousal, she just stared at the ceiling, panting, blinking at it, and hand still down her pants. She began chuckling, her body trembling a little with the after effects. That had been, without a shadow of a doubt in her mind, the best wank she had ever had. Her body was still tingling over that, from her head to her toes. "Oh Merlin… I guess this really means that I am a lesbian."

As she snickered, Hermione began to recall her sixth year, in Slughorn's class when she smelt Amortentia for the first time. The smells that had hit her then had been fresh mown grass, new parchment and then she had shut up not saying the third thing she had smelled. When asked about it later she had said it had been spearmint toothpaste but it hadn't. It had actually been the flowery scent of the shampoo that Ginny used and still used. Even the toothpaste she had mentioned had not been too much of a lie, as Ginny used the same brand that Ron used. Had she really been hiding from this realization for that long, maybe longer?

Hermione shook her head and sighed, pulling her hand free, two of her fingers somewhat sticky. Just how long had she been attracted to Ginny? Clearly those feelings were somewhat set enough in her by sixth year to affect her perception of the potion, so had it built while they were working so closely in Dumbledore's Army? That seemed likely. She had spent a fairly good amount of time with Ginny then, working with the girl on various spells and charms. And she had clearly been worried about her over the last year. So now that left her in a much more uncomfortable place: what was she going to do about it? Would Ginny even be interested in her? Was Ginny even interested in girls?

This speculation was going to make her crazy. She had solved one major question but that had only resulted in the creation of many, many others. She needed to actually come up with answers to all of this. But at least she had an answer to one part of this whole tangled mess, but what was she going to do about dealing with all of this? She had to admit that everything she had looked at clearly showed that she was a lesbian. There was no doubt about that. That was huge realization. That on its own was messing with her perception of herself but adding that to her needing to decide what to do about Ginny? And what was she going to tell her parents? It was all enough to make her head spin.

Would they be disappointed in her? Would they want her to leave? Would they be upset with her? Would they still love her? Would they be happy for her? Would they simply smile and say they already knew? After having read about the good and the bad that could come from coming out to those you love, Hermione was a bit scared about the prospect of telling her parents about this. It was a rather terrifying proposition and once you said this thing you could never unsay it. And… and depending on their stance, would that mean that they would not allow Ginny to come back? And what would they think about her being interested in Ginny anyway?

Again there were too many questions to deal with created with too little information to actually answer anything. It was becoming a far too common issue as of late, especially with this particular topic. This was not a trend she approved of as it made her uncomfortable. Why couldn't her life have been easier? Why couldn't she have simply been straight and happy with Ron, living the life it seemed like she had been destined to have? Everything had seemed so much easier when she had been that good little prefect girl in love with Ron. She lifted her left arm and gazed at the scar there, letting her eyes drift over the letters of the word that would never leave her, reminding her of the hate and the why she could never be happy being that girl. Mudblood.

In all honesty, it could just as easily say Lesbian given the way some people saw this issue. Either way it may be a part of who she is but it was not everything about her. She was who she was, a crazy mix of all sorts of things, some that people liked and some that people disliked. No one word or idea was ever going to change her or cage her in or define her. Yes, this entire issue scared her, terrified her by what it could cost, but she had to do what made her happy, what made her free. There really no other option that she could even stomach. Anything less would mean that Bellatrix had won after all.