Woooh. Getting back into the swing a little. I'm a bit nervous about this chapter, writing the insanity was always tough, and jumping back in after so long, I hope I've been able to keep it in the same realm as the earlier chapters. After this I've got most of the next chapter finished, and then...we'll see. I've got a sort of sketched out plan, hopefully I'll be able to get it fleshed out into something good. Cheers.
"This is very important. What did you do with the dagger?" Her hands slid over soft cheeks, cupping her face, pulling it gently closer.
"I don't…I don't know."
The response it seemed; was unacceptable, as the grip tightened, long nails digging into soft flesh, though not breaking skin. "Yes you do!"
Memories flashed in her mind, a thousand places, a thousand moments, "I really don't, I don't know what's real! I remember things….but then I remember other things, and they don't ever fit together!"
The long fingers slid down, gripping her chin and yanking it closer, so their noses nearly brushed. "Look, your sanity is starting to slip again, we can't stay here much longer. You have to remember now, because when you get out, you'll have to focus past the crazy. Tunnel vision your goal and hope you don't get off track. Just tell me what you remember. Where did you go after I died?"
That statement sent a jolt of pain through her chest, even the act of remembering it was painful. As her body jerked in reaction, Her arms wrapped around her, gripping her tightly, lips brushing her ear.
"It doesn't matter what's real. This is real, whether you believe me or not. It's all you have, so just tell me, it doesn't matter if it makes no sense."
Her eyes screwed shut, and she breathed deep the familiar scent of those tangled curls. It was soothing, and the panic slowly faded, still present but less pressing.
"I watched Harry kill Vol-" A sharp pinch to her side made her yelp, "-Him. I
watched Harry kill him. And…"
Everything had gone red.
The last shreds of the tenuous grasp on reality were torn from her. As she watched Harry finish what Voldemort had started all those years before, she had nothing left. Every hope of love and future, no matter how twisted it probably was, had vanished. Everyone had been kept in a sort of thrall while Harry and Voldemort had faced off. Now he was gone, and for most it was a joyous moment, but for her, and she was sure Harry and Ron, anyone who knew Molly probably, it felt utterly empty.
Voldemort's demise seemed to lift whatever hold was on the crowd. The hall erupted in murmurs of joy and relief, though nothing as grand as one would have expected after the destruction of the most evil wizard the world had known. Harry turned toward her, a grave expression on his face, and Ron rushed forward, brandishing his wand.
Numbness engulfed her, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Killing Molly had done nothing to ease the loss of Her.
"Hermione," Harry's voice was soft, pleading.
"You killed my mum!" Ron roared. Was that anger or sadness in his breaking voice? Both perhaps.
All eyes in the Great Hall were focused on the three of them. No one else moved, save the remaining Weasleys, now huddling together, some wracked in sobs, others stone faced.
She was staring at the wand at her feet that was all that was left of Her. She had given it back just hours earlier.
She began to shake.
There was nothing to do, no reason to live.
She was gone.
Gone.
No reason.
Nothing.
A spell erupted from Ron's wand as he shouted words she didn't care to make out; she flicked hers and deflected it without looking up.
"She's gone mad, Harry!"
Mad.
Ha ha. Mad.
Crazy, insane, wild, barmy, nutty, off her rocker, screwy, batty, weird.
Just like Her.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
That laughter was coming from her wasn't it? Not that it mattered.
A strange sort of warmth was bubbling up in her chest, and it forced the laughter out.
She couldn't really be gone. It wasn't possible; there was no way for her to conceive of going on, surely if She really were gone, she herself would have also died. She knew then what needed to be done. As the onlookers finally realized they ought to do something, it was too late.
Darkness filled the room. And she grabbed the wand at her feet, and with a flurry of blocking several random stunners sent in her direction, she fled the scene.
"I went to find you." She pulled out of the grip, hugging herself.
"Where?"
"I don't…I went back to the beginning."
"My sister's house?"
"No…The Department of Mysteries."
"Oh." She seemed to falter.
"That's where it began for me. Though I didn't know it at the time."
The Ministry was utterly empty. Everyone it seemed was at Hogwarts. Perfect.
It was so easy to find her way back down to: "Level Nine, Department of Mysteries." That elevator voice was still kind of freaky.
"What am I doing here?" Red eyed, tear tracks dried on cheeks, it was so hard to think with that splitting headache and stabbing pain in her chest. In one of those rooms was the first place they had met eye-to-eye two years before. "Did she fuck me that night too?"
It seemed like it. She had been chasing Harry, Hermione and Neville through the rooms, after the prophecy clutched in Harry's hand. They'd run into Dolohov, a silencing spell seemed to stop him until he hit her with a jagged purple slash. Then what? Harry and Neville had escaped, leaving her on the floor unable to move. Then She had come and-
"No! That's not right!" Heavy breathing. "No. I don't remember." The large hallway felt claustrophobic. "Why am I here? This place doesn't matter!" Whirling back into the elevator-
"You went all the way to the 9th floor of the ministry and then just left?" Disbelief colored Her voice.
"Yes. I." No. "No. No, I went in. I searched until I found the Hall of Prophecy." Eyes closed tight, struggling to find the truth. "I stood where I was when we first met. You stared into my eyes for the first time. It felt like you weren't really gone for a moment."
"And then?"
"I. I screamed." The desire to scream now was pretty strong. It was about to happen, but Her lips crashed into her, stopping the moment. "It's getting closer."
Her eyes roamed the space, darkness was creeping in on them. "There is no time for this. The dagger, girl." She hissed.
"In my bag. My beaded-bag. With your wand and…and everything else."
"And the bag? It was two days before they caught you, was it not? Where did you hide it?! WHERE?!" Desperation colored Her voice. It was getting darker. "There is no time for this!"
"I'm sorry!" Sweat poured down her face, she could feel the madness creeping in, so quickly.
"Listen to me!" Her hand snaked tightly around her throat, sharp nails threatening to puncture skin, "Did you or did you not go to the Ministry? If you didn't and you go there now, you have little chance of escape!"
One final moment of clarity, "No. Not there. I. I wanted you back so badly." And then she remembered, "I know where I went."
"Break out of here, retrace your steps, and find the bloody dagger. Once you've done that, there is a book, it was in the Restricted section at Hogwarts, Magick Moste Evile-"
"It's in my bag as well!"
"Good Muddy! There is a chapter concerning bringing a Wizard back to life, The Dark Lord used it to get his body back. We'll do the same for me! So find the bloody bag! Got it?!"
Darkness had swelled around them, nearly engulfing them.
"I'm going to try to bolster your power when you wake, you just have to use it to get out and go find the bag."
Their lips crashed together again, one final time, frantic as they were swallowed by the shadows.
Ernie was already on his fourth cup of coffee for the day. He was looking over a case for a Healer upstairs. The woman apparently could only say words that began with the letter P, and no one could figure out why. He had no bloody clue either.
Really he was just trying to distract himself while he waited to hear back from a Healer in Belgium. Dozens and dozens of Healers from all over the world had looked at Hermione's case over the years, and while some had promising theories, it had all turned out to be fruitless. The Healers in St. Mungo's had all abandoned this case to him long ago, after a few unfortunate incidents early on. The international Healers were easier to get advice from, since they were just looking at the case notes mostly, except for a few brave ones who had made the trip. None of those had returned for a second look.
This Healer in particular was notorious for being rather unorthodox in her methods (she reminded him a little of Luna Lovegood actually), and he'd been initially hesitant to contact her at all, but with little options left he had determined perhaps unorthodox was a good way to go. She had cheerfully responded that she would love to look over the case, so he'd sent it as quickly as possible. It was often a pain to send mail internationally; he'd had to get special authorization for use of an object-only port key to accomplish the task every time he'd had to send the files out.
He finished his coffee and frowned deciding one more cup couldn't hurt. He paused as he made his way down the all, and slipped into the observation room. Hermione was shaking ever so subtly in her restraints. Occasionally a streak of blue magic would run across her skin and vanish.
Ernie shuddered.
She was still asleep though, and appeared to be in relatively okay condition for the situation. He sighed and continued on his way to retrieve more coffee. It was upon his arrival back at his office door that all hell broke loose.
