Thank you guys for all the amazing reviews and the patience for my posting schedule; life has been very hectic for me, my mother is not in the best condition and then with school and working, I really do not have a lot of time. But I finally got chapter 10 done and hopefully everything else settles down so I can work on chapter 11. There were really too many guests to list them all, but thank you for all just the same—I read them all, but I did not have the time to respond and for that I am sorry.
A BIG thanks to the betas Angstar54! And the usual disclaimer still applies: The characters and canon situations in this story belong solely to JK Rowling and any company affiliated with her. If needed any other item belonging to another will be copyrighted at the end of the chapter. The plot however is solely mine.
Chapter 10: Trouble within the Mist
Hermione frowned at the entrance leading up to the Headmaster's office. She did not like the fact that she had been called up to see Dumbledore immediately after the Welcome back feast. The brunette did not understand what he wanted to talk to her about—but she had a feeling it pertained to her rather uncouth encounter with the Order of the Phoenix at Potter Manor. Yet she could never have prepared herself for exactly who greeted her in Dumbledore's office—her parents.
"What are you all doing here?" She questioned, hesitant. The brunette found her left hand gently grasping her wand instinctively. That action brought a sad realization to the forefront of her mind: she no longer trusted these people. The ones that only years ago she trusted her whole life with, were now people she dealt with the utmost caution.
"We wished to reconcile with you, Hermione." Dorea stated, her voice gentle and soothing. The distinguished woman took a step forward before stopping in confusion when the teen shook her head.
Brown eyes narrowed, not really believing in what they were trying to tell her. Why would they come to her now? Why would they want to make amends now of all times? With her curiosity gaining the best of her, Hermione questioned them. "Why? What would you gain from seeking restitution?"
It broke Charlus' heart to hear his daughter question them. The Lord Potter understood that as a woman, his daughter would no longer believe everything he said; but should a father not at least guide his daughter until the very end? So why did he allow the relationship with his sweet, little girl to become so strained? "We love you Hermione; we may not have showed it well, and your mother and I regret it terribly . . . but we do love you." Charlus replied, his voice a hoarse whisper. It hurt him to have to tell his daughter of his affection—should he not have proved it earlier? Should he not have continuously showered her with love? "I know I cannot ask for your forgiveness; frankly I do not feel worthy of it just yet, but I am asking for a chance to earn it once more. Will you give us that chance?"
"There is nothing to reconcile between us," Hermione replied softly. When her statement brought tears to her mother's eyes, the brunette tried to elaborate further, not wanting to cause another fight. "You encouraged James' behavior, but he dug his own grave in the end."
How could she explain that although she felt slightly angry at them, she did not fault them? Not when they were finally giving her something she always wanted—to finally be able to talk something out. Her parents wanted to make amends; they were willing to try to work things out. Now, she was not the only one trying to mend the bridge. Yes, she had long ago come to terms with the events in her life; she needed to in order to continue living a relatively happy life. Therefore, she did not fault them for the events she experienced; however, she did fault them for Regulus, at least on some level.
As a whole, Hermione blamed the Order and all of its members for classifying those worthy and those who were not—angry that they condemned Regulus. How could she not be incensed at people who pretended to be gods just to toy with the lives of others? Hermione did not condone hypocrites, even if they were her own parents.
"You still deserve an apology Hermione," Charlus replied. On some level he felt relieved that his daughter did not begrudge their past actions. But another part wondered why she did not. Did she feel they were too far beneath her to be of importance? Or did she simply wish to let bygones be bygones?
At the shake of her head, The Lord Potter questioned, "Why?"
"I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me." Hermione replied with a shrug. She long ago stopped questioning why she would let some things go and then hold on to others. Part of her wondered if it had to do with her true lineage. Could her blood be leading her to what her instincts felt more important? In all honest she could not really answer her father's question. But Hermione knew one thing: fighting one battle after another grew tiring.
"I just want to ask one thing, Hermione." Dorea began, hesitantly. The old woman did not know how to present her question—on some level, the Lady Potter worried what this question might bring to the conversation. "Why did you act out?"
It seemed her intuition was right. Hermione stiffened and her amber orbs narrowed in accusation. Their daughter obviously did not like the question.
"I did not act out as you so put it, Mother." The icy tone brought a frown to the parents' lips. No child should ever speak to their parents that way, especially not a child the Potters raised. Had they not raised their children better than that? Before they could chastise the young witch, Hermione spoke once more.
"I merely found myself—every action I ever took led me to where I am today. I will not lie, nor sugar coat it. There were times where I wanted to curl up in bed and never wake, where I only wanted to cry, where I hated you all. And had it not been for Narcissa and Regulus, I still might be in that position today. But they taught me that sometimes you have to kind of die inside in order to rise from your own ashes and believe in yourself and love yourself to become a new person. And guess what? I love who I am, I am happy being what I am." Hermione replied, knowing it to be the honest truth.
The brunette enjoyed being real, not pretending to be something she had never been in the first place. She enjoyed having people stick by her because of her personality—the real her—and not because she came from an Ancient and Noble House. Granted, the number of real friends she possessed paled in comparison to others; but the two real friends in Slytherin she did have had been considered impossible from the start.
But the biggest thing that made Hermione happy of the all obstacles she had to cross, was the simple fact she did not wake up dreading each new day. She did not wake up hating herself. The brunette had seen so many people who put on a façade, acting all chipper yet underneath continuing to drown in self-loathing. Most of them were her own dorm mates, the girls raised from birth to be what society wanted.
"You were happy before!" Dorea cried out, unsure why her daughter claimed to be unhappy. Their family had been happy prior to their daughter's sorting. Sure, Dorea and Charlus would have liked for their daughter to be sorted into Gryffindor, but they loved her none-the-less. Her new behavior had strained the relationship, it had caused the problems.
"You never behaved like you did this break, Hermione." Charlus chastised. His daughter acted in the most uncouth manner during her unexpected visit to their Manor this Yuletide holiday. "The way you conducted yourself could have chastened our family!"
At this statement Hermione's eyes narrowed. It took the entirety of her willpower to keep the snarl within her throat. Growling like an animal would simply prove her father's point. So she decided to quote a phrase she read for an assignment in Muggle Studies sometime during her fifth year.
"Weary of myself and sick of asking what I am and what I ought to be," Neither of her parents apparently enjoyed her gauche behavior during the winter break. If the Lord Potter wanted to bring up actions and behaviors then she would do so as well. Hermione had no quarrels with making her adoptive parents upset at the present moment, as sometimes the truth just hurt; but it still had to be said.
"Resolve to be thyself; and know that he who finds himself, loses his misery." Hermione quoted. The brunette felt that the phrase fit her current predicament quite accurately. Then again with how her parents were currently looking at her, they did not agree. Or perhaps the Lord and Lady Potter did not agree with the context in which she used the sentence.
"Dear—" Dorea spoke up this time. Hermione had to resist grimacing. Hermione hated being called that by her—it implied a closeness the two no longer had. Sure earlier, Hermione thought they could re-enter that close relationship, but now . . . Hermione did not know if that could really be done. Overall, it just felt extremely awkward for Hermione to be called that, so she decided to focus on the present topic.
"I am sick of questioning how I should act, speak, or even breathe because for as long as I could remember I had to live my life in accordance to others. Either follow your rules and be a 'Proper Lady' or conform to the beliefs of my housemates just to make their idiocy tolerable. I have been tired of the charade for far too long: I would rather behave how I want, speak what I think, and to live how I choose. At least then any mistakes made would be my own. And at the very least, I might be able to find a bloody ounce of content!" By the end of her tirade, Hermione's face was flushed red, her hand clenched at her side. But she did not look to be angered, not like how she came across during her visit to Potter Manor.
"We only became stricter because you became more wild, Hermione." Charlus reprimanded gently. He would admit that they had been a little rough on their daughter as she matured. But they had to—Hermione took far too many liberties after her sorting. And perhaps they were to blame for that; after all as a small child Hermione had been given a huge leeway in what they allowed her to do.
Most Pureblood girls were taught strict etiquette lessons on how to be a proper female; and although Dorea gave their daughter those same lessons, Hermione had also been allowed to partake in other extracurricular activities that were not quite so Lady-like.
"Wild according to whom? James?" Hermione sneered, her small hands clenching into fists at her side. For this very same reason Hermione rarely visited her parents, even though they had somewhat reconciled after her fifth year. "If I am wild then he is bloody barbaric."
"Hermione! Do not just say such defamations! Just because he disapproves of your . . . coarse choice in friends does not mean he is—" Dorea found herself unable to speak. It only took her a second to realize her daughter had hexed her. Brown eyes stared in shock, unable to fully recognize the girl in front of her. This student could not be her daughter—her Hermione would never hex her. Glancing at her husband, Dorea noted that Charlus too seemed surprised.
"I do not care for your petty jealousies woman; let it go. Your family associates with me for none other reason than they like me. Regulus is not like your siblings." Hermione snarled, her eyes blazing the familiar vibrant blue. The brunette knew exactly what Dorea had meant by her 'choice in friends' and it had nothing to do with her sorting into Slytherin. But this did clear up why her adopted mother had turned a blind eye towards her as the years progressed. Her mother sided with James not because she had been sorted into Slytherin, but because Hermione was friends with the kinsmen who exiled the older witch. And apparently that bitterness had yet to really fade.
"Hermione you will undo whatever you did to your mother right now!" Charlus bellowed. It only took him a few minutes to shake the shock that came with his daughter's action; however once the surprise faded, anger replaced it. The Lord Potter knew his wife and daughter shared different views on the topic, but he thought they would at least be mature enough to handle it without magic or crass words. Obviously his wife still disliked the family who disowned her. But Charlus also knew the loyalty Hermione displayed to those very same people.
Had he not intervened, Dorea would have ended the friendship with the Black children and her own children early on. But thanks to his intercession, his wife grew to adore Sirius. It did help that the young Black Heir proved right off the bat he shared nothing but physical traits with his and Dorea's kinsmen. With Hermione's friend, it had been another matter entirely. Dorea had to watch her daughter withdraw from them, and Charlus knew his Lady blamed their youngest child's separation on the Black family and their youngest member.
"Why? You shall as always call me a liar and take James' side in the end. For Merlin's sake you all just assumed everything bad that happened to me in James' presence had been because I deserved it or that I must be some horrid klutz!" Hermione cried exasperatedly. Why did they always get angry when she finally defended herself? Why did they always assume she instigated my with James? Why did they try to make her out to be the one not wanting to fix this? Did they not see how it killed her to fight with those she loved? Did they not understand she hurt just as much as they did?
"James is not the one acting like a petulant child right now!" Charlus grew uneasy; he had a very good idea where Hermione wanted to head with this topic. But something told him that they needed to listen to this—Hermione needed to get this off her chest.
"Either I am clumsy for being hexed down the stairs, I am sulky for refusing to acknowledge the man who tried to feed me and my housemate to a werewolf, I am a bloody psychotic bint for being unable to help someone—when I was only fifteen!—and I am rebellious for doing what your precious son asked of me." Hermione finished, slightly out of breath from her rant. After all of these years, the Slytherin finally got to tell the people who raised her exactly what she thought about the events in her life. Yes she got over them, as it does not do well to dwell on the past and forget to live, but it did not mean that the pain really disappeared either.
On some level, she might be blowing it out of proportion, the events did not happen back to back and aside from the 'being a bint and not wishing they were siblings' Hermione did not really know if James indeed hexed her when she fell down the stairs and Hermione definitely did not know who led Severus to the Forbidden forest. But did her brother and his friends not say they stuck together? So why would the actions of one not involve the actions of the other?
"Yes, Charlus, I am all of those; and you all are just the victims of a recalcitrant teen." By this point the teenager's eyes were once again brown, but they were clouded with unshed tears. She did not expect the supposed talk of reconciliation to go down like this.
With her thoughts unleashed, Hermione waved her wand towards the woman who cared for her as a child, undoing the silencing spell she had casted. Her brown eyes dulled with a weary flicker.
Charlus tried to speak, but did not really know what to say. He never thought of his daughter in that light. Yes, he felt sometimes she behaved uncouthly, but did not all teens do that? He just tried to straighten her out, but instead he ended up distancing her.
"At first I hated this distance you all seemed to embrace, but now I think it is perhaps for the best. This family has drifted apart. We have made our choices." It hurt Hermione to say this, it really did. The brunette wanted nothing more than to curl up into her father's arms and simply cry like she had done many times as a young girl. She wanted to be able to seek comfort from those who raised her once more, but the brunette did not know if that could be managed. Hermione had grown up, she had seen the world through different, duller eyes.
"Perhaps one day this could be settled . . . when everything thing else is finally laid to rest. But, when I have to choose, it will be him." Hermione replied, her voice a soft whisper, before she exited the Headmaster's office. It took all the strength she possessed not to burst into tears right there. The eighteen year old felt she had finally lost the piece of the past she hung so dearly to.
She would not look back. She would not let this upset her any further than it already had. She would not break down. She would not leave Regulus to fend for himself just because she had her first, real heart-to-heart with her family.
With her exit, Hermione did not notice the guilty expression Dorea gave to the door way. The mother did not mean for the encounter to end this way. She did not mean to let her jealousy get the best of her. Did she not vow to be a better parent to her daughter, to be there when the young witch needed her? Yet when the time came to prove it, to reconcile, that green beast got the best of Dorea once more. And Charlus did not seem much better off, if his stiff shoulders were any indication.
The husband and wife seemed lost in their own silent conversation and Dumbledore wondered if they even realized they were in his office and that he had witnessed the whole affair. Dumbledore had remained quiet during the family's quarrel. It reminded him too much of his own family life, with Arianna, and he did not want to intrude on the subject. Yet, Dumbledore felt the need to at least try and fix the Potter relationship . . . if not with the siblings then at least with the parents. Because he did not wish that strained relationship on anyone. It caused the Headmaster heartache to see another fall victim to the relationship he and Aberforth shared.
Vaguely Albus realized the young witch held knowledge beyond her years. She had taught him many things in her years at Hogwarts. In the beginning, he had been so bent on expelling those boys for the pranks they continuously pulled, yet she had shown forgiveness—mercy. Her mercy resulted in him doing the same, and eventually he found amusement in those pranks, often looking forward to them. Yet, as those pranks progressed into something even more wicked, Dumbledore could not find it in himself to punish them too harshly. Yet it appeared that the young Miss Potter found she could no longer find it in herself to forgive them either. Thus, as he grew softer, the teen grew colder.
Hermione also taught him not to underestimate those who are not participating in the war. For the Headmaster there were only two sides to the war, black and white. Good and bad. Yet the young Miss Potter had displayed another color, another side. Obviously the young Potter did not side with Voldemort, if her vehement reaction at Potter Manor would yield any explanation to what Hermione said as she exited his office.
But that could change—circumstances always changed things. "I wonder who exactly she meant." Dumbledore questioned aloud, receiving two curious looks from the Lord and Lady Potter.
"They think we hate them." Sirius said, after he sat on the couch in James new home. Grey eyes glancing around, Sirius could tell that James and his fiancée, Lily, were still moving in, which by the sound of boxes shuffling, Lily was working on right at that moment.
It took James a moment to process what his best mate just said. It took another moment for the Potter Heir to realize who Sirius Black meant. Brown eyes blinked at his friend as the words processed in his brain.
"Why in the bloody hell would they think that?" James questioned, shock still marring his face. Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but no words would form. The nineteen year old could not get over what his brother had told him, but what really sent his mind reeling was the fact that Sirius actually agreed with Regulus; they had not agreed on something since they were mere children.
"Hermione grew up rather sheltered right?" Sirius asked. James shot his friend a confused look, but nodded his head anyway. The Potter heir did not see where his best mate wanted to take this conversation to, but knowing Sirius as well as he did, James knew that his friend would not ask the question if it had not been important.
"Did we ever think how she felt living in Slytherin?" Sirius himself knew the answer: neither of them ever really bothered to see how she felt. When they were in school her sorting into Slytherin had been the only factor that mattered. But now looking back, Sirius realized perhaps that had been their first mistake.
"No, but Sirius we were boys—we never thought past getting into girls' knickers and our next prank. No one ever expected us to be deep, soul-searching lads." James replied, trying to brush off the serious tone with a lighter response. However, judging by Sirius' eyes, James' attempt did not work. With that noted, James sighed. The Potter Heir knew that there were many ways he could have handled his relationship with his sister, and a lot of ways would not have led them to a broken bridge with no possible way to repair in sight.
"Regulus told me how she felt—"
James stared at Sirius in shock. His best mate actually spoke to his estranged, younger brother? When did that happen? How long did they talk? Did they hex each other? Somehow James could not possibly fathom a friendly conversation between the two Black brothers. It would never happen, could never possibly have ended friendly unless one or both of them were pissed on Ogden's finest Firewhiskey. "You actually spoke to him?"
Sirius nodded, but did not respond right away. How would he word this? How could he explain what Regulus had told him to James? The nineteen year old knew that his best mate had to hear this—they both needed to have heard this topic a long time ago . . . perhaps then everything could have been avoided. Yet the more he thought about it, the less the words formed. So Sirius decided to just relay the facts and tell James exactly what happened.
"I had tried to make a deal with him, to get him to help you out with Hermione. He refused, and proceeded to tell me about Hermione," Sirius said. The Black decided not to tell James that Regulus had only told him that information most likely because he was drunk on Firewhiskey. This next part, the one that James needed to hear, took Sirius a while to put into words. After all, he could not just say it—it would upset James and most likely end in a fight.
"He then told me something neither of us bothered to do; what he said . . . if we had just done it earlier . . . if you had just done it earlier, perhaps your relationship with your sister might not be so bad now," Sirius stated; his grey eyes staring at his friend, awaiting James' reaction. The tightening in James' brown eyes gave way to his anger. The nineteen year old brunette never did like being told his actions were wrong, that he could have done something different. But at the same time, Sirius also knew that James would listen to what Sirius' brother said; because out of everyone they knew…only Regulus knew Hermione's heart.
"Regulus said that none of us knew her—we all expected her to be something she had never been and that we were blinded by those expectations. He said Hermione had more to her than just what we wanted to perceive . . . that despite sharing your last name and knowing us for years, we were merely strangers to the girl." Sirius said.
At his best mate's last remark James blew up. How dare that pompous Slytherin claim him to be a stranger to his sister! James knew his sister, damn it! The Potter heir's fist clenched and unclenched as he tried to reel in his anger—but nothing he did seemed to work. His mind would not release the ire he felt; how dare that Black insinuate such a detail, despite whatever argument they were having, the Potters were family and they stuck together!
"I know my sister, Sirius." James all but screamed out at Siruis.
"Do you? Do you really, James?" The question did not come from Sirius, but from Lily who apparently heard their arguing and came down from unpacking. James' brown eyes stared at his fiancée in shock; how could she ask him that? Of course he did and she knew it too . . . right? At his hesitation, the redhead persisted with her inquiry, but not before shooting Sirius a look to stay quiet.
"Hermione and I might have gotten off on a wrong foot at your parents' Manor, but that does not mean that I will allow you to sit there and lie to yourself about her, James. So I will ask you again, do you really know her?" Lily asked. She needed to get this point across to her fiancé. The redhead knew that James and Sirius felt at least some remorse for their actions towards Hermione, but she also knew that not even Hellfire and Brimstone would get them to apologize on their own. When James opened his mouth to speak, and his head began to nod in the affirmative, Lily sighed before speaking once more—silencing any chance of James to prove himself foolish.
"I used to get the feeling, and sometimes I still get it, that sometimes I was fooling somebody; I don't know who or what, maybe myself." Lily replied, using a quote from one of her favorite role models, most people would never believe that the quiet, studious Lily Evans had an iconic sex symbol as a role model. But despite that, Marilyn Monroe was someone to look up to and Lily knew that. The woman had flaws, but she never tried to hide them. Ms. Monroe did not make girls feel bad about their own bodies, and that curves were definitely okay to have. But more than anything, what really got Lily Evans to adore the deceased actress, had been the very words that came from the woman. Such like this quote she had told her fiancé.
"James you are fooling yourself," Lily whispered to him.
"No I am not!" James replied, exasperated. Why did his closest people think he was fooling himself? He knew his sister! Nothing would change that, no matter how many years went by or people they came in contact with or distance apart! James knew Hermione, he had to. What kind of brother would not know his own sister?
"Then tell me about her: her hopes, her goals, her favorite books, colors, music. Who does she turn to when she needs help? Who does she pray for at night? Who would she give her life to protect? Who makes her smile? What makes her happy? How many kids does she want to have? Is she in love? If you can answer any of those questions, than maybe, maybe you might know your sister." Lily replied. But judging from the look on her lover's face, James could not answer any of those questions. The redhead sighed once she realized she had been right. James might know the general facts about Hermione—her birthday, age, when she will graduate from Hogwarts—but nothing that would define her as a person. With a shake of her head and a sad smile, Lily spoke to her fiancé once again, this time in a softer tone.
"Regulus knows her best, James; face it, you are just a stranger to her. But I would not feel too bad about that, I doubt anyone—aside from Regulus . . . and maybe Narcissa—knows all of those about her. But a friend or at least an acquaintance would know some of it. But I will tell you this, you have your whole life to get to know Hermione . . . the real Hermione," Lily stated, her hand laying comfortingly on her lover's shoulder. Lily knew that James needed to hear what had been said; and for the first time ever, Lily thanked Regulus for being man enough to talk to his brother, despite all the issues the two had with each other.
Hermione might not be the little girl Lily would defend anymore, but the Muggleborn knew that the girl still had good intentions. After their last meeting, Lily had honestly thought that maybe James had been right about his sister all along; she had to be evil just like the rest of her house. But the more Lily thought about it, the more that idea ceased to make sense. After all, if Hermione wanted to be evil, she would have sided with Voldemort to eradicate Muggle-borns and any opposition. Yet she came to them, rather furiously, to ask for some kind of help for her friend. Would she not do the same in Hermione's case? Lily knew she would, just without the temper and probably with many more tears. Granted, Lily assumed that Hermione's anger had been directed more or less at the fact Regulus had been forced to be a Death Eater as that was the only reason Lily could think of for the brunette girl to seek their aid . . . even if in a rude way. For that very reason, Lily could not fault the younger witch for any angry words said.
"I'll let you two get pissed on some Firewhiskey now; it's under the Kitchen sink, go have at it boys." Lily replied softly before leaving the room. Her boys needed time to think—James just heard something he needed to and Sirius and he both needed to finally accept it.
"'Mione!" An exuberant voice called out from the hallway. The brunette blinked, before turning in the direction she heard the voice come from. A mop of red hair came zooming up to her, causing a small smile to grace her lips.
"Well hello, Bill. How is your second year of school going?" The Head Girl asked. A few of her housemates shot her a dirty look—one she returned—for speaking to a Weasley. Most thought it to be blasphemous what with her connections to the Black Family. But Hermione thought all of that to be nonsense. You cannot blame the younger generation for the pasts' mistakes. So Flavius ran away, frightened, leaving Sirius alone to die by the hands of Muggles. Yes the incident was a tragedy, but would any other pureblood child not have done the same? And furthermore, the fact that anyone would hold a past event against a child just irritated the eighteen year old witch.
"It's okay, there are still a lot of mean kids—but mentioning you helps a lot!" Hermione smiled at Bill's enthusiastic response. She bet her name did help stop people from bullying him at least for a while—no one ever wanted to get on the Head Girl's bad side, detention and losing points would be the least of their concern otherwise. Hermione had a no tolerance policy when it came to the younger years—any upper year who bullied them usually got punished, granted it helped that Slughorn adored her.
However before she could add another topic to their conversation, Hermione saw Regulus. His pale face stricken with fear had Hermione internally shiver. Something had happened, something that terrified Regulus . . . and Hermione never thought that possible. "I bet. I am glad I saw you today," Hermione told Bill with a polite smile, "However, I have some Head Girl duties that I need to see to, okay? I will talk to you later, Bill."
The second year nodded his head in understanding, this had not been the first time Hermione had to leave while he talked to her—but Bill never held it against her, Hermione tended to be a very busy witch. Yet, whenever he really needed to talk to her, it felt like she had all the time in the world for him. She would support him in tough decisions, let him cry on her shoulder when the days turned miserable, and even help him with school work. So Bill felt that the least he could do was let her leave when she needed to. After all, she would not leave him in the middle of a conversation otherwise. With his conversation over, the second year left the older witch with her own devices.
Hermione slipped through the crowed, following Regulus. She did not know where her best friend intended to go, but judging by the methodical way he moved within the crowd, Regulus knew that she trailed just a few meters behind him.
As the crowded seemed to thicken in the tiny corridor, Hermione lost sight of Regulus. She could not find the lanky teen anywhere. Her eyes scanned the corridor as it slowly began to empty; it had been over five minutes and she could not find Regulus anywhere—did he continue down the corridor that led up to the Ravenclaw tower? If so, why? Hermione never could continue her questions, because a hand draped over her mouth and pulled her into one of the empty classrooms. The hand dropped from her face and Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but a shaky, familiar voice stopped her.
"Bambi, it's just me."
Brown eyes widened and she quickly turned around only to meet terrified grey eyes. She had not seen this version of Regulus since his father's untimely murder—she refused to call it death, because damn it Walburga Black killed her husband and Hermione knew it!—and that alone scared Hermione. Regulus always seemed so impervious, like nothing could ever hurt him. He had always been so brave in the face of the unknown, so cunning in a difficult situation, so gentle and always one to offer her an affection hand. He seemed infallible—but seeing her brave friend like this, it made her beyond worried.
"Leo, what is going on? Tell me why you are acting like this, please!" Hermione found herself begging, words just spilling out of her mouth without any form of filter. This version of Regulus unnerved her, to see him so alarmed meant that disaster would strike, and it would strike soon. But that led Hermione to question what catastrophe, what event could possibly shake her Leo this much?
Regulus refused to look her in the eyes, which only upset the witch even more. What had Regulus so frightened that he refused to tell even her? They had told each other everything, and that should not change now. Even with her best mate's fear.
"Leo, you can tell me anything; whatever it is we can fix together." Hermione whispered softly. She tried her best, hoping that what she said might help break Regulus out of that fear that seemed to tear at him. But when he shook his head, Hermione's worry shot to an astronomical height. Her Leo had never denied her help. But at his next words, everything seemed to still.
"What do you know about Horocruxes, Bambi?"
There is Chapter 10! Things are coming to light and the young wizards realize not everything is so simple.
So tell me what you think about it? I did not really feel good about the first seen but no matter how many times I worked it the scene still remained fairly the same. So I decided to leave it, and Angstar54 also made a valid point about it. Personally I love the last scene the most, but that is just me.
I would love to hear from you!
-Kori
Here are the copyrights:
"Weary of myself and sick of asking what I am and what I ought to be…Resolve to be thyself; and know that he who finds himself, loses his misery," © Matthew Arnold
"I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me." © Hermann Hesse
"Sometimes you have to kind of die inside in order to rise from your own ashes and believe in yourself and love yourself to become a new person" © Gerard Way
"I used to get the feeling, and sometimes I still get it, that sometimes I was fooling somebody; I don't know who or what, maybe myself." © Marilyn Monroe
"It does not do well to dwell on…and forget to live," © JK Rowling, "Albus Dumbledore".
My Experience with Bullying:
One of my guests asked me how I responded to my experience with bullying. I will tell you how I reacted, but not the details of what was said—because despite me forgiving the girl, and ultimately moving on, those words still affected me and impacted my life…but they are definitely not happy memories.
I responded three ways: first I ignored it, that seemed to only make it worse and the words suck deeper and deeper into my head until I honestly believed them, which led to my experience with anorexia and depression, things I am still working on. My second reaction was one of violence, I actually punched the person—although it made me feel good at first, I felt guilty later and not to mention all the trouble that followed it after. But during both of those times, I begrudged the person for doing it to me, resenting them and myself for not fixing the problem.
But my third reaction, I just accepted the person was a bitch, that we might never see eye-to-eye anytime soon. But that I will forgive her because all the hate I held inside of myself, my hatred towards her and my own weakness, hurt me way more than it hurt her. She could move on with her life, forgetting me entirely while I would be forever hung up on what she did to me. So for that reason, I forgave her, after I did tell a teacher about the verbal abuse she put me through and how I felt towards it (I told him this to separate us from any future class projects, not to get her in trouble). Because even though I forgave her, I refused to put up with the abuse for any longer. This is the main reason I had Hermione see forgiveness as an important trait.
This is a rant; you can ignore it if you really want to.
Another reviewer (This one pissed me off a little) claimed she refused to read my story any further because of the "bond" and how I forced Hermione into a relationship with Sirius. Honey does she look like she wants Sirius at this point? Furthermore unless you are me, do not assume how my characters or my story will progress because I damn sure bet you'll be wrong.Hermione is a strong female character, I have made that abundantly clear…at least to myself…and I do not see her just "accepting her role" because something tells her to. She will fight it like she has been since chapter 5. But I will tell you this—I do not care if you read my story. I write this because I wanted to, I am not writing for you. If people like my story then great, I am happy that I have entertained at least some people with it. If you hate it, then don't read it—click the x and close the screen. It is as simple as that.