Disclaimer: I own the plot, a few characters, but sadly, everything else is Jo's.
A.N. You guys make me sooooo happy sometimes! I'm really grateful to the response I got to the last chapter! You guys rock! Just keep it up and let me know what you think, or what you wanna see! I'll gladly take all suggestions into account! Now, on with the story!
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Chapter Twelve
The Pensieve was swept off the table and smashed to the floor, breaking into a thousand or more bits. The swirling mass of thoughts that had previously belonged in the basin now twisted freely on the floor.
The man twitched slightly at the sudden movement, but otherwise said nothing. He was used to his client's temper by now.
"What the hell was that?!" Matt hissed as he shoved himself off the couch.
The man chose to remain silent. It was best to regard any questions as rhetorical unless directly addressed.
"I should have just done away with her when I damn well had the chance! The little whore!" he exclaimed as he paced around in a circle.
He kicked out violently at a pile of empty beer bottles as he passed the couch, sending glass shards everywhere. The man raised an arm to keep the shards from flying into his face.
"Honey? What's going on?" a voice floated down the hallway.
The man turned to see a stunning blonde come sashaying down the hallway, clad only in a pair of very short shorts and a rather tight tank top.
He snorted and turned to face his client, his eyebrow arched.
Matt looked slightly flustered for a moment. "Nothing. It's fine. Go back to bed, I'll be there shortly."
She cast a suspicious eye upon the man, but otherwise said nothing. She turned and walked back to the bedroom, her hips swinging in such a way that confirmed the man's suspicions that she was, in fact, just another typical dumb bar blonde, who spread her legs for just about any good looking man walking around with enough testosterone to satisfy her needs.
He turned back to his client, the eyebrow still raised.
"Don't give me that look!" Matt snapped, annoyed.
"Did I say anything?" the man asked sagely.
Matt glared at him, then looked around at the mess he had caused in his rage. With a wave of his wand, it all disappeared.
"So what now?" the man asked after a few moments of silence.
"I'll get to her, one way or the other, mark my words."
"How so, if I may ask?"
Matt turned to face him, the manic glint in his eye quite obvious.
"That's for me to know, and for you to find out."
The man sighed. "Fine. Give me my money then."
With another wave of his wand, Matt made a bag full of money appear in the man's hands. He walked him to the door, and as he shut the door, said, "If I need you, you'll hear from me."
The man walked down the stairs of the apartment building, stuffing his bag of money in his pocket as he went.
"Fucking hypocrite," he muttered as he walked out into the cool night air.
Hermione was terrified. She was backed into a corner again, and Matt was in a towering rage. Again. How surprising.
"What did I do this time?" she screamed at him.
"It's the fact that I married you! You're nothing but a fuck up! I don't know what I was thinking!"
His words stung, but not as much as the red mark he left on her cheek.
"I'm sorry you wasted your time on me then! I don't know why the hell I've stuck around all these years if you hate me so much!" she screamed, tears running down her face.
"Mummy?" a little voice asked, scared.
They whipped around to see Charlotte come into the living room, clutching her blankey and looking terrified.
"What are you doing to Mummy?" she asked, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
"Go back to bed, Charlotte," Matt snapped.
"Don't hurt Mummy!" she cried, tears slipping down her face.
"Charlotte! Go back to bed!" he yelled, his face purpling.
"Stop hurting Mummy!" she shrieked.
With a roar, he turned his wand on her. "Avada Kedavra!"
"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Hermione screamed as Charlotte crumpled to the ground.
With a jolt, Hermione awoke, tangled in her sheets and sweating profusely. She reached up to wipe her face to discover tears mixed in with the sweat as well.
"Bloody hell," she muttered, her hands shaking as she wiped away the tears and sweat.
She got up from her bed, her sheets in a tangled ball, and crept over to Charlotte's bed. She checked to see that she was still sound asleep and actually breathing (that dream had seemed so bloody real), and kissed her softly on the forehead before walking out of the room.
Without really meaning too, she walked into Oliver's study. She had never been in there before, but from what Rhianna told her, he had a lot of Quidditch things. She figured that would be a good enough distraction from her current mind frame.
She turned his small desk light on and looked around. There wasn't an inch of space that wasn't devoted to Quidditch. She walked over to a glass case mounted on the wall. A closer look revealed that it was Oliver's very first broomstick. She smiled to herself as she pictured a five year old Oliver zooming around on it.
She moved slowly around the room, examining each little bit of memorabilia. All his favorite Quidditch teams had their own designated spots on the walls, all clustered around one another. Of course, his own Puddlemere United had the predominance of artifacts. The team colors were present everywhere in the room, right down to the team emblem pressed into the carpet.
She shook her head a little when she noticed the emblem in the carpet, but couldn't help but grin. Her eyes alighted on the bookshelf near the window, and she walked over to quickly scan the volumes. Just about everything to do with Quidditch, although, near the bottom, she found a shelf designated for all his old school books.
She straightened up, and something she saw out of the corner of her eye made her breath catch in her throat. She picked up the picture frame to look at it more closely.
It was a picture of the Gryffindor Quidditch team from Oliver's seventh and final year at school. He stood at the back, smiling broadly and proudly, his champion team crowded all around him. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were waving frantically at the camera. Katie Bell tried to give her full attention to the camera, but kept a suspicious eye on the Weasley twins, who, unsurprisingly, looked like they were plotting something diabolical.
And there was Harry. Grinning proudly forevermore, remembered in this moment as the thirteen year old boy who helped lead his House team to victory in the Quidditch final against their nemesis, Slytherin.
Her heart clenched with loss all over again as she watched Harry grin and wave at her from the picture.
"Hermione?"
She gasped and whirled around, the picture frame still clenched in her hand.
"Oliver! I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"What are yeh doin' up so late? It's nearly three in the mornin'."
She looked down, remembering the dream. "I had a bad dream."
He looked at her closely. "What kind of dream?"
She tried to brush it away, and tried to ignore the question by placing the picture back on the shelf where she found it.
"It was nothing."
He looked sleepily concerned. "It was him, wasn' it?"
"It doesn't really matter, does it? It's always him. He'll never leave me and Charlotte the hell alone."
Oliver rubbed a hand across his face, trying to coax his sleepy brain into working. "Yes, he will. He's not gonna hurt yeh and the lass anymore. We've been over this before, Hermione."
Hermione looked down again, her eyes filling with tears. He was being short with her. Maybe she deserved it. Maybe she really was a pathetic weakling that deserved everything that had been dealt to her. She kept losing hope. Where was that strong, pigheaded teenager that she used to know?
She had died with the boys, that's where she went.
She sniffed. She was being stupid. She needed to move on, and quit looking over her shoulder for the ghosts of her past. She needed to be strong and brave for her little girl, and for Oliver. Oliver was the best thing that had happened to her since the War, and since things went bad with Matt.
"Ah, Hermione, lass, don' cry," Oliver pleaded, rubbing a hand up and down her arm.
She wiped away a tear that escaped. "I'm sorry. I understand your annoyance. I deserve it, I'm being stupid."
"No."
She looked up at how forceful his tone was. His gaze was intense.
"Never say that yeh deserve what yeh got. Yeh were given the short end of the stick. It wasna fair, for the lass or for yeh."
She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "I'm sorry."
He lifted her chin to look him directly in the eye. "And never say yer sorry."
She nodded. "Okay."
He turned to gaze fondly at the picture she had been looking at when he walked in. "I noticed yeh were lookin' at the old team."
She too turned to look at it again. Harry's grin still made her heart hurt. "I'm still not over losing him. I don't think I ever will be. Just looking at that picture makes my heart hurt, as though it happened just yesterday."
His eyes were sad when he looked at her again. "Do yeh wanna talk about it?"
She thought for a moment, then her mouth twitched in a sad smile. "It's nearly three in the morning, and you want to hear my sob story?"
He took her hand and led her over to the big easy chair near his desk. "I'll listen to yeh any time yeh need an ear."
He sat down and pulled her to sit nestled against the overstuffed arm of the chair, her legs swung over his. She sat ramrod straight, not leaning against him. She felt slightly awkward, and, out of habit, she looked down at her ring finger, only to realize that it no longer wore the wedding band that Matt had given her as a token of his love.
She shook her head slightly. Yeah, right, love.
She sighed. "I thought that I'd be over losing them by now. It's been nearly ten years."
He nodded understandingly. "Yeh thought that it would heal with time."
"I don't know why it hurts so much. Yes, they were like brothers to me, but I always had a gut feeling deep down inside as the Final Battle drew nearer that there was a very good chance that I would lose them."
"But yeh didn't wanna believe it."
"Of course not. During the day, it was easy to brush it aside, what with my Healer training and rushing around to all the different battlefields, trying to patch everyone up. But at night, it was torture. All the days horrors would come back to haunt me, as well as that inescapable feeling of impending doom. I knew what was coming. I knew that they both would be right in the thick of things, doing their best to bring it all to an end."
Oliver smiled, remembering how stubborn Harry could be, both on and off the Quidditch pitch. "Potter and Weasley were both headstrong. Yeh knew them better than I did. But I knew enough to know that they would rather have died fighting for what they believed in than to be defeated by the evil they were so against."
"I know. I would tell myself that, over and over at night, when I couldn't sleep. I knew, in my heart, that's what I would want to. I wouldn't have wanted to die a coward. I would want to die fighting for my cause. And I knew that if that's what it came down to, then that's how it would end. By the time the Final Battle came around, I had convinced myself that I would willingly sacrifice myself to save either of them, or both of them. Any of the Order, really."
He touched her hand lightly. "That's the Hermione I remember."
She looked at him sadly. "I never got my chance. At the last minute, Harry ordered me to stay behind, and care for those who were wounded. He said he would rather me stay behind, and know that I was safe, than to have to worry about me, and get distracted."
"I can understand his logic. I wouldna want to have my mind in two places at once when I'm up against Lord Voldemort. Surely yeh can see that as well."
She nodded. "I didn't understand at first. But I didn't have the chance to argue with him. He and Ron both left at the same time. All I had time to do was to kiss them both on the cheek and tell them to be safe, and that I loved them both very much. I told them I would see them after the Battle was over, once we had won."
Oliver watched her face as she relived that horrible night all over again. The look in her eyes was distant, her face as white as it surely was that night.
She buried her face in her hands. "I can still hear their last words, see their smiling, proud faces as they waved at me one last time before Apparating off to the Battle," she trembled out.
He rubbed her back soothingly.
"Yeh were busy that night, I can imagine."
She lifted her face from her hands, the tears sliding down slowly. "You have no idea. It was one casualty after another. I was up to my elbows in blood, dirt, magic. For some, there was no hope. I could tell as soon as I saw my next patient. But I did what I could to make it less painful for them, always never having enough time to spend on them before being dragged off to the next patient. Some of them still haunt me. The ones that were competent enough to know that they were dying. The look in their eyes as I moved on to the next patient still makes me sick."
He was still rubbing her back, trying to keep her calm. "But it has to help to know that yeh did what you could for them. They had to know that. They knew what they were getting into."
"I know. I knew what I was getting myself into. But it didn't really bother me until after the fact, when it was all over. Once I had found out that I had lost both the boys."
He knew this part of the story would be hard. "What happened next?"
She wiped away some of her tears with a trembling hand. "Some of the Order Apparated back to the off-site location where they were sending all the casualties. They were rejoicing. Voldemort had been defeated at last. It was over. I had a few happy minutes relishing in the fact that I wouldn't have to worry anymore if I would be the next victim, being a Mudblood and all."
His eyes flashed at the mention of 'Mudblood,' but otherwise, he said nothing.
"And then it all went horribly wrong."
Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.
"Remus Lupin and Mad Eye Moody Apparated back with Ron supported between them. I didn't know what was going on at first. Everyone was yelling, celebrating, and then, when they Apparated back, those closest to them went quiet. It spread through the crowd, like a ripple effect. I was near the back of the crowd. When I realized it went quiet, I started shoving my way through people, trying to find out what was wrong. And then I saw him, my Ron, his face white. . .his eyes closed. . ."
She let her sobs escape. Her shoulders shook and heaved, her breath gasping, her tears falling freely. Oliver wrapped his arms around her, and cradled her to his chest. He laid his cheek against the stop of her head, rocking her back and forth, like a child.
"I didn't want to believe it! But when I looked at Lupin, and saw him crying, I knew he was gone! And I didn't even get the chance to accept it, when Hagrid came back with Harry in his arms. . ."
"But Harry was still alive when he came back, right?"
She nodded against his chest. "Hagrid set him down carefully. I rushed to him, knelt down by him, took his hand, told him it was going to be okay, I was there, and I was going to make him all right again. He was bleeding all over the place. Malfoy had cursed him with Merlin knows what, and I tried to stop it, I really did! But I think Harry knew that he wasn't going to make it. He grabbed both my hands, stopping me from fussing over all his wounds, forcing me to focus on his face. He was so proud, it was etched into his face. His eyes were blazing, but fading. He squeezed my hands, smiling fiercely, a victorious warrior at last. I can still hear his last words."
Her tears were soaking Oliver's shirt, but he didn't care. He tried to hold her closer.
"He said, 'We did it, Hermione. It's finally over. I finished it off for Dumbledore, for my parents. Maybe now I can rest a little, eh?' And then, he drew one more last shuddering breath, and his eyes drifted shut, the proud smile still on his face. And then his hands went limp in mine," her voice was very small now, the grief and pain welling up to an almost unbearable point.
"If silence was what surrounded us when they brought Ron back, it was nothing compared to how quiet it was after Harry. . ." she drew a breath, refusing to say it, even now, almost ten years later. "I looked up at Hagrid, and Lupin, and the rest. Their faces mirrored what I felt inside. It was as though someone had shattered my heart. The pieces were lodged in painful places inside, and I couldn't get them unstuck. All I remember is this cold numbness. I couldn't feel anything for weeks afterward. It was as though I had died with them that day."
Oliver stroked her hair softly. "But yer still here, Hermione. And no matter what, yer always gonna have them with you, inside. In yer heart. As long as yeh don't let the evil beat yeh, as long as yeh can still love, that's all they would've wanted for yeh."
"I should have listened to Ginny in the first place," she said softly, staring at the wall, her head still resting against Oliver's chest.
"What did Ginny have to say?"
"When I left the magical world, she told me that was the stupidest thing I could have ever done. She told me that Harry and Ron wouldn't have wanted that for me. And when I say left, I mean, I left it all behind. I gave my wand to Ginny to keep safe, and I moved in with my parents. I wanted nothing to do with it all. Not when it had taken away my boys."
Oliver was puzzled. "But what-?"
She looked up at him, her eyes shiny and tired. "If I had thought that I could escape the tragedy that seemed to follow me in the magical world, I was sadly mistaken. My parents were killed in a car accident a few months later. But before that, I had stopped into the Leaky Cauldron a few times. I realized I missed the magical world, and needed some sort of news of what was going on. I finally grew brave enough to go inside one day. And that day, everything changed. . .I thought for the good."
He gave her a questioning look.
"That was the day I met Matt McAllister."
She burrowed her head into his chest again. "How stupid could I be?"
Again, he laid his cheek against the top of her head. "Yer not stupid," he murmured. "Look at what good came from it. Yeh have Charlotte, now, don' yeh?"
She smiled. "Yes, I don't know what I would do without her."
He smiled too. "She's a great little lass. She has a good mother. As long as yeh have each other, yeh can' go wrong."
She nodded sleepily against his chest. For a few minutes, it was quiet, and Hermione was feeling a little more peaceful now that she had finally talked, in detail, about what had happened to destroy the good part of her life. This was the first time that she had actually told someone what had happened, without leaving out the parts that were too painful for her to deal with.
"Hermione?"
"Mmm?" she was starting to creep toward hazy sleep.
"I don' want yeh to leave."
"Mmmph?" she mumbled, not wanting to open her eyes.
"I want yeh to stay. I want yeh and the lass to stay, forever."
She opened her eyes blearily, and tilted her head up to look at him. "What are you on about, Oliver?"
He looked down at her seriously. "I want to make yeh happy. Charlotte loves it here, she would be so happy if yeh stayed. Hermione, I want us to be a family."
Her heart skipped a few beats. "Oliver?"
He bent his head down, so that their foreheads were touching, his nose barely touching hers.
"I know this is the wrong time, but I can' keep it in any longer. I want to make yeh my wife, and Charlotte my little girl, and I want us to be a family. I can keep yeh safe, and happy, and I'll love yeh and the lass like yeh deserve to be loved."
Her eyes sparkled with new tears. "Oliver," she started.
She wasn't prepared for the softness of his lips against hers a split second later. Nor was she prepared for the feeling that her heart had healed. The great hollow that had once filled her seemed to vanish. All in that instant when he kissed her, she felt complete, at long last.
He nuzzled her ear softly, breathing in her comforting scent.
A lone tear slid down her cheek. "Why do I somehow always manage to end up a complete basket case when I talk to you?" she whispered soggily.
He chuckled. "It's not good to keep that all inside, lass."
She sighed. "No, it's not."
His breath tickled her ear. "Can I keep you?"
It took her less than a fraction of a second to make her decision. "Yes," she whispered breathlessly.
He smiled softly, and bent to kiss her again. She was still caught off-guard by the completeness that she felt, and by the unwavering love that he was trying to show her. It frightened her a little, but she fought back that nagging feeling that something bad would come from this.
She gave herself over to this foreign emotion, this love, that she thought she had lost for good.
It had finally returned.