Love's Odyssey in Death's Design
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The air was tense at the Burrow, no one knowing quite what to say or do in the aftermath of what had happened at Malfoy Manor. The Aurors had departed, unable to find substantial evidence to build a solid case. Narcissa had not been taken into custody. That decision had not been a unanimous one though. The Aurors had been split on the matter, with one half wanting to employ a more hands on approach to questioning, and the other wanting to bide their time and wait for any suspicious activity to occur before getting involved. The interim Minister for Magic made the decision in the end to side with the latter half.
Once they were on their way back to the Ministry via the Floo Network, Kingsley remained in the kitchen and faced Molly and Arthur, his expression grim.
"She needs help." The statement was like a crack of thunder despite the hushed tone in which it had been spoken. There was no clarification needed in regards to the 'she' Kingsley Shacklebolt was referring to. "Her behavior as of late has been erratic and self destructive. As ironic as it sounds, Madam Malfoy would have been within every right to press assault charges against Miss Granger."
"Thank Merlin she didn't," Molly Weasley whispered, clearly still stricken and disturbed by the scene they had all witnessed, "I- I had no idea Hermione was so strongly affected -"
"We all have been affected in some way or another," Arthur cut in, his tone soft with reassurance as he slipped his hand into his wife's, "We have all suffered losses and are constantly plagued by thoughts of the war. She will come around, I'm sure of it."
Kingsley sighed and slowly shook his head, "I understand what you are saying, Arthur, I do. But in this case, I don't believe this is something Miss Granger can simply 'come around' to. I have heard the talk, you see, and it is not merely the substance abuse and the wandering about at odd hours of the night. It is all of that, as well as the hysterics, the accusations, the aggression. Perhaps this is something that time cannot heal. Not on its own anyway. We cannot merely sit back and watch as Mis Granger continues to become a danger to herself and to others."
Mrs. Weasley had tears in her eyes now as she clutched her chest with her free hand, her breathing shallow as she she tried to rein in her emotions, "What are you suggesting Kingsley? H-how would we help Hermione?"
"Mandatory sessions with a Soul Healer," he replied without missing a beat, "The Dai Llewellyn ward of St. Mungo's has a renowned staff and I am quite confident that they can provide Miss Granger with the rehabilition she so evidently needs."
The Weasley's were stunned for a moment, eyes widened as they both realized what exactly it was that Kingsley was proposing.
"You want to commit her," Arthur finally spoke their thoughts aloud, "You want her to stay there until it can be proven she has fully recovered."
"We can't do that to her Kingsley," Molly was emphatic, her body positively trembling, "She's like a daughter to us. We've known her her whole life, she's not mad."
"It isn't a case of being mad or not, Molly, that isn't at all what I'm insinuating. I do not believe Miss Granger is mad but she is heading down a precarious path and I believe being in the constant company of a Soul Healer for some time will benefit her in the end."
It was the exchanged glances and the relatively loud silence following his words that made it known to Kingsley Shacklebolt that his point had been made and even if not yet agreed upon, at least was potentially being considered. After all, he had known Molly and Arthur Weasley for years, had mourned the loss of their sons as if he himself had too lost a child, and knew that they stood by a faith that he and the Order of Phoenix shared - the faith in the greater good.
It was in Miss Granger's best interests to see the Soul Healer and though she may not agree- and he knew this without even having to speak to the girl himself - as he made to take his leave, he trusted the Weasleys to make her see reason. Hermione Granger was one of the saviors of the Wizarding World, it would pain him deeply to have the Ministry formally involved.
Hermione paced the Burrow's wild, sprawling garden in a futile attempt to calm down. She could not believe that she had attacked Narcissa Malfoy in the very place she had been tortured. What was happening to her? She could feel it, a strange buzzing that seemed to lay just under her skin, fueling her frazzled emotions until they all leaked right through her fragile control like water in cupped hands. She recognized it, as she was sure it was the same thing that coaxed her to reach for another drink even after it was evident she was teetering on the edge that separated tipsy haze from the thick fog of intoxication, but yet it was different. Somehow she felt as if there was an entity, separate from herself, that took over, consumed her, possessed her. She didn't know, couldn't put it into words and perhaps the frustration it caused was simply one emotion too many to add to the storm. And what happened when a storm grew too intense?
Damage of catastrophic proportions.
'I needed you' had been the almost tearfully impassioned words she had spoken, and for the life of her, Hermione could not figure out what it had meant nor from where the words had come. They had strung themselves into a sentence that had seemed to not come from her but through her, laced with a meaning she could not comprehend. Merlin, she was losing it.
She knew one thing was certain. If Narcissa Malfoy was hiding Bellatrix, and she had to be hiding her somewhere, the Ministry would probably never find her now. And it was all her fault. Her credibility had surely gone out the proverbial window the second she had blindly launched herself at the blonde haired witch. She, Hermiome Granger, the damned Golden Girl, had all but single-handedly aided in the elusion of capture and subsequent escape of one of the most notorious criminals the Wizarding World had ever seen. What a bloody mess.
"Hermione."
The brunette whirled around at the sound of Harry's voice and knew immediately that this conversation would be nothing at all like the one they'd had prior to the search at Malfoy Manor. There was a crease of displeasure between his dark brows, nostrils slightly flared, and his lips were pressed together tightly to form a thin line. For one fleeting, bizarrely amusing moment, he reminded her vaguely of Professor McGonagall. Only far less intimidating. She did not laugh, her face remaining as passive as she could possibly make it. Her clenched fists, however, surely gave away her simmerimg ire.
"Harry."
"What did you think you were doing?"
"Trying to catch Bellatrix Lestrange." Her tone was brusque, a knife's edge slicing through the dark witch's name.
"How? By beating her sister up?"
Hermione gave a derisive snort, "I hardly beat her up."
Harry's eyes widened with incredulity, "'Mione, we had to pry you away from her. You were fighting us, shouting crazy things. The Aurors were about to hex you, do you know that?"
"Oh, the irony," she muttered with a flat, humorless chuckle, "They would have hexed me to get me away from her when she's the one lying to protect a murderer."
"I believe her."
The words were spoken on a whisper but they still met Hermione's ears and it was her turn to adopt a look of shock and disbelief. "Y-you believe her?" It was like trying to speak while someone had their hand closed tightly around her throat. If she thought back to that day in the drawing room of the manor they had just returned from, she could remember what that had felt like. Bellatrix's ice cold fingers locked in a vicegrip, cutting off her air supply even as her lungs worked aimlessly to function just enough for her to plead with her to understand that she had stolen nothing from her vault. "You believe her. Over me."
Harry ran a hand roughly through his unruly hair, making it even more disheveled in appearance. "You saw her fall during the Battle, Hermione. You saw the urn. She's dead. I dunno who you think you saw the other night, but I'd bet my Galleons it wasn't her. It couldn't be."
"Fuck the urn! Don't you know how easily one of them could have gotten their hands on some hapless Muggle, murdered them, and then filled that bloody urn with ashes or dirt or Merlin only knows what! Just to help with their ruse! Just to keep up their lie!" Really, how could they all be so stupid, she wondered. Was she the only one with a brain? Maybe.
Harry's floored look of bewilderment upon hearing her harshly swear for perhaps the first time in his life went nowhere even as he gave his rebuttal, "If Kingsley had suspected anything like that, he would have had her taken to the Ministry at once. Or at least administered Veritaserum right there on the spot."
"You all are hopeless," the brunette all but growled, "Tell me this. If it wasn't Bellatrix Lestrange I Apparated to Malfoy Manor last night, who was it then?"
"How can we be sure you were even there?" Harry shot back, anger now breaching the defenses of his previous calm, "You were taken to St. Mungo's, maybe a potion gave you a nightmare or something."
"Gave me a nightmare? Harry James Potter, you really are an idiot. All these years and I can finally see it plain as day."
"Only an idiot would be blind to the fact that the Malfoys have suffered enough."
"They've suffered enough?!" she was shouting now, uncaring of who heard. Let them all hear. "They haven't suffered nearly enough!" She could not believe that her best friend of eight years had all but turned on her after all she had done with him, for him. It was a betrayal that flooded through her like a rogue wave breaking on a parched shore.
"She saved my life Hermione! She lied to Voldemort and because of her I'm standing here right now," Harry's voice was harsh though she was unfazed by it, "Even Draco. In the Manor. He knew it was me and he didn't say anything. And even if he hadn't recognized me, he sure as hell knew you and R-Ron."
The stumble over Ron's name only incensed Hermione further, her rage so deep that the sadness, that usually that shot through her upon hearing the name of her dead boyfriend, was immediately snuffed out. "And how do you think he would feel about what you're doing? What you're saying? You're disrespecting his memory by allowing that woman and her sister to go free. After what they did to me!"
The arrival of the Weasley family, drawn to the garden by all the shouting diverted Hermione's attention away from the devastated look on Harry's face as a result of her remark.
"What on earth is going on?" Molly panted, her eyes like everyone else's darting back and forth between Harry and Hermione.
"Nothing," Harry muttered, his tone heavy as he stared fixedly at the grass, "Just a-a misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding my arse!" Hermione hissed, ignoring the gasps at her language, turning wild eyed to face the Weasleys, "None of you believe me either, do you. About Bellatrix. Do you?"
"Now, now," Arthur, ever the peacemaker, said, "Hermione we never said we don't believe you. There just isn't any evidence to what you're claiming. Not yet."
"Or not ever!" Ginny chimed in, her face flushed as she moved to stand by Harry's side, "I heard what you said, how could you be so careless. Ron's death is painful to all of us. Especially Harry."
"Harry, Harry, Harry!" the brunette spat viciously, her features twisted to form a thunderous expression, "That's all anyone in the entire Wizarding World cares about. Harry! What about me? What about poor little Mudblood Hermione Granger? What? You think I've had my nose shoved so far into a book all my life that I don't feel? You think I don't hurt too? You think I don't suffer every single day? Is that what you all think? That I should just get over myself because Harry Potter is suffering more than all of us?"
She had snapped. The frail strand of her rapidly decaying composure had disintegrated. There was no going back from this. There was no more pretending. It was out in the open now for them all to hear. And Hermione could not bring herself to give even an ounce of a damn. If her head had been clear and her heart not trying to beat itself out of her ribcage under the influence of so much adrenaline flooding her blood, she would have realized that she felt more alive in that moment than she had felt since the end of the war.
For the second time that day, Hermione had stunned everyone around her into silence. Not even a bird chirped. And then Arthur Weasley cleared his throat.
"Erm, we need to talk to Hermione. In private. So if you all could give us-"
"No," the brunette cut him off with a shake of her head, "Whatever you have to say to me can be said right now. I haven't bitten my tongue, so I don't expect you to do the same." What could they do? Ban her from the Burrow? Without Ron, this place would never feel like home again. Insult her? Well, Bellatrix Lestrange had done them all one better when she had etched one of the worst slurs in their world into her skin for all time.
"We really should talk to you about this alone, Hermione," Arthur tried again, beside him his wife's expression was imploring.
"Just tell me!" She was almost certain it had to do with what had happened at Malfoy Manor. Perhaps Narcissa Malfoy had pressed charges on her. Perhaps she would be sent to Azkaban. It was with a somewhat hysterical snort that she realized perhaps Azkaban might not be so bad if it meant she would be away from all the eyes that were currently watching her with disbelief, anger, and pity.
"Kingsley has made a suggestion," Arthur said with heavy sigh, clearly uncomfortable with having the discussion with an audience, "For a way to cope with your feelings."
"If it doesn't involve Bellatrix Lestrange being hogtied and delivered straight to Azkaban to be kissed by a Dementor, I don't want to -"
"A Soul Healer," Molly interrupted before the brunette could complete the thought, "At St. Mungo's. And after what's just happened, I think he may be right."
Hermione's jaw dropped. And so did her core temperature, or so it seemed. She felt as if she had walked through a ghost. Or jumped into an icy pond. "He wants to lock me up in St. Mungo's with the loons." It was callous, but judging by the looks on the faces of the Weasley parents, it was true. "I won't. I refuse."
"We're afraid it might be necessary, dear. You've said it yourself, you aren't doing well at all."
"Please, we only want what's best for you."
More was being said about the apparent loss of her mind from the others in attendance but Hermione tuned it out as she made quick and determined strides to the house. She did not care to acknowledge the voices following behind her, the pleas, the attempts at reassurance. She was done with it all. Done with the Weasleys. Done with Harry. Done with Bellatrix Lestrange. Done with the magical world altogether. With the acception of the enchanted beaded bag that held all the worldy possessions she had left within its bottomless depths.
"Hermione please don't do this," Molly Weasley begged tearfully, "We love you."
Turning for one last look at the people who had been her second family, people she had cared for, fought for, bled for, her eyes landing lastly on Harry, unable to read the expression on his face and not really wanting to she said, "Goodbye" and Apparated out of the Burrow..
Author's Note: And there it is. The first third of LODD is complete. I think I've set the scene well enough for my lovely, incredibly lovely readers to see just where everyone is at mentally, emotionally, and physically. Or at least I hope I did ;) And Bella, my baby Bella, returns in the next chapter and I know alot of you have been waiting -quite patiently might I add - for that as well as the actual Bellamione aspect. After all, that is what it's all about, yes? It's coming. Slowly but surely, but we will get there. Keep your seatbeats on loves, it just gets bumpier as we go along. Thank you so so much for the support and seriously?! 2,000 views in a week?! I am amazed and so incredibly grateful. Please let me know your thoughts, its such a joy to read your feedback! Until next update my dears -bellanoire, over and out!