Chapter Fourteen

Taryn barely noticed the chill of the stone floor against her bare feet as she headed back to the dungeons. She'd spent far to long crouched across from that door after Draco had left, biting her lip against the tears that threatened to spill.

Once Snape left the hall, followed by a curious scuffle of feet, she allowed the fat tears to stream down her face with a sob. She hadn't cried since she'd left the hospital. The iron casing that she had tried to so diligently build around her heart had rusted and buckled under the weight of this new revelation.

Eventually, though, she had gathered the tattered bits of her strength, pulling a tissue from her clutch and wiping her eyes. Thankfully the pain had turned into a cushioned shock that allowed her to make it back to the house quarters.

She ignored the night owls loitering around the common room, and headed directly to Serpent Hall.

"That was quick! I thought you would still be busy making Draco drool..." Chase said as Taryn came into the room, her heels dangling in one hand, her clutch in the other. Chase stopped talking when he got a good look at her face.

Taryn looked a complete mess. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from tears; her once stylish side-swept hair now tumbled messily down her back.

"What's wrong?" Chase jumped up, walked to her, and throwing an arm around her shoulder led her to the couch. "Was Felix an ass?"

"No, it wasn't Felix, though he is an ass. Draco gate crashed the party, and we kind of got into a fight," Taryn lied quickly. Chase was her friend, but she didn't want to reveal what she had just learned until she could wrap her own mind around it.

"Aw, I'm sorry. I thought for sure when he saw you in that dress...Well, fuck him then. If he can't treat you right then he isn't worth it," Chase said firmly.

"Its not that easy. I think I love him," Taryn said quietly.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of. I had hoped...I mean, it seemed like he had started to change. I could kill him, the fucking asshole," Chase said angrily. "I'm going to go find him right–"

"No, please. I know you mean well, but please don't do that. You haven't gotten to know him like I have. He's not...there's good there. I don't think that I could care so much if there wasn't," she said. She didn't know if she was trying to convince herself or Chase.

"Okay," Chase said gently. "You're right. I really don't know him like you do. Why don't you sleep on it, hun? You are too upset right now to make any rational decisions. Get some rest and tackle it in the morning."

Taryn nodded, before standing and heading to the bathroom. She took a shower, scrubbing away the remnants of her makeup and pretending that tears weren't mixed with the warm water washing down her face.

0o0

The next morning she didn't even catch a glimpse of Draco with the bustle of students leaving for Christmas holiday and she was rather relieved.

She didn't want to see him until she could make a decision on what she wanted to do with the new information she now possessed. A year ago she would have taken this information directly to Dumbledore, but now she had other things to consider. She needed to find out what he was was doing, and more importantly why he was doing it. She really couldn't tell anyone yet. She absolutely didn't want him to go to Azkaban and she was afraid that that would be the outcome if she spilled her guts before she had information that would work in his favor as well. His father was already there, so it wouldn't take much for the Ministry to send Draco there as well.

She was warring with the Draco she knew from the past, the arrogant superior boy. The revelation of Draco the Death Eater, and the other aspects of his personality that made her love him so much.

If anyone had asked her a year ago she would have said that Draco was the last person that she ever thought she would fall in love with.

Her highly logical mind was now beset with emotions that defied all logic. Emotions that didn't make sense at all, and she couldn't bury them no matter how much she tried. And at the bottom of everything was the fact that she actually didn't really want to bury them. She cringed now at how she had castigated Draco about his feelings when she was just as conflicted. She was really no better and she was finding that she was no better prepared for the onslaught than Draco was. She hadn't even admitted to herself that she loved him when she had basically ripped into him for his lack of decision on their relationship. It was unfair, she knew, but she hadn't been able to stop the words from coming. At the time she had thought them completely valid and deserving, but now she really was unsure.

Though she and Ron had never spoken of their feelings outright, she had always assumed that he would be the one that she married. When she thought herself in love with Ron that was the only future she imagined. Draco and Ron were as different as night and day.

Draco was such a contradiction. In public he put on such an act that she knew had taken years to perfect. He could be cold and superior, the Pureblood act at its best or depending on your view, its worst. In private, with her, he was different. Not exactly tender, but much more caring, with a sarcastic sense of humor that kept her laughing.

When he finally showed her his sparring room, she felt like she understood him more on a fundamental level. Draco craved competition and control, and after studying martial arts, the control had seeped into his regular routine. Thinking back, she realized that while he could still be cruel at times it only came out when he felt provoked.

Something big had to have made him take the mark. Before she would have said that merely vanity could have been his catalyst, but now after getting to know him, she was sure that there was more, and because she loved him she had to find out what that something was.

0o0

Her stepmother met her at Kings Cross. Jillian looked cool and beautiful, her dark hair pulled into a low bun. She wore a slim grey skirt, matching flats, and a pretty floral printed blouse. She smiled when she saw Taryn, pulling her into a gentle hug, and kissing the top of her head.

"Nigel couldn't make it," she said apologetically. "He had a business meeting that couldn't be avoided, and Reggie and Cathy are visiting Cathy's parents for the holiday."

They walked though the bustling train station and out to Jillian's Aston Martin two seater.

"He's going to be home later, right?" Taryn asked, lifting her small bag and placing in the trunk.

"I hope so," Jillian said softly, turning the key in the ignition, her hand trembling.

Taryn looked at her sharply, her brow crinkling. That sounded rather ominous. "Tell me...what he is really doing?" she demanded.

Jillian's face crumpled. "He doesn't want you to know."

"I'm not a child Jillian. I can handle it," she said firmly. Nigel might not be her real father but she did care about what happened to him. He was now part of her family after all, and he loved his daughter very much.

"You mustn't worry," Jillian began, "Nigel has been approached by agents of You-Know-Who. He has agreed to give them funds in exchange for our being left out of their dealings."

Taryn was nodding. "We knew that this might happen. I just hope that they live up to their end of the bargain."

Jillian's chin quivered as she tried to hold back tears, her gaze focusing on the wet, chilly road, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"Why don't we practice when we get home? It's been ages since we've danced together," Taryn said gently. She could tell that Jillian needed something to take her mind away from what might be happening with Nigel, and frankly she did as well.

Jillian smiled at her sadly. "I would like that very much."

0o0

"Here miss, I have marked the plot here. And, again, I'm very sorry for your loss."

Taryn nodded her thanks as the elderly gentleman handed her a single piece of paper. One square on the map was clearly marked with the florescent ink of a yellow highlighter.

She supposed that it wasn't the healthiest thing to want to have a look at your own grave, but she was probably one of the only living people to ever get the chance. Ghosts didn't count. Looking around she had to admit that despite its rather hokey name, Rolling Green Cemetery was actually nice.

It was an older cemetery, with headstones dating back to the seventeenth century. It was peaceful, tranquil even; the only sounds she heard was the crunch of frost under her boots.

The cemetery was almost like a park, with tree lined pathways and benches. She would bet that in the spring it would be a riot of colors as flowers bloomed. She didn't see a single other person. It seemed that not many people visited cemeteries on Christmas Eve, and definitely not at twilight.

It began to snow, and she pulled her coat tighter, picking up her pace. Soon she stood in front of her grave, watching the snow pile on top of the tombstone. The stone was made of a white marble, a kneeling angel leaning on a square surface inscribed with her name.

Hermione Jean Granger

1979-1996

Beloved Daughter of Daniel and Claire

"If there ever comes a day when we can't be together keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever"

She hadn't known exactly how she would feel standing and looking at her own grave, but she hadn't expected this. This lack of feeling, an all encompassing numbness that didn't allow for anything else. She was almost grateful. It stamped out all the turmoil that she had been feeling over the Draco situation and the things that she still had yet to decide.

She quietly walked back to the taxi that awaited her, her eyes unfocused as she was driven to her next stop.

The Georgian townhouse was the place that she had called home since birth, and it took an act of will to keep her from running up the steps and through the door.

The five bedroom home had bluish bricks that looked gray as the sky darkened. It made the house, that was usually quite cheery with its wrought iron fence that bloomed with greenery during warm months, seem a little solemn.

The blankness of the house was a slight shock. At this time of the year Christmas usually dominated. Christmas was Claire Granger's favorite holiday and the home was usually adorned with twinkling lights, and artificial icicles, and a couple of inflatable snowmen standing sentry in the front lawn by December first. Instead there was only a small, lonely looking wreath adorning the door, and it imparted a neglected sadness rather then the bit of cheer it was supposed to provide.

Blowing her breath against her hands to warm them, Taryn moved forward to get a better glimpse into the front window. As she looked through the frosty window of her former home, she couldn't help but see the sadness that was etched into her parent's faces.

The light from the fireplace revealed her mother and father sitting quietly, hands clasped as they silently stared into the flames.

Claire had a streak of grey hair threading through previously completely dark locks, and her father had lost weight. He had always had a slight paunch, due to her mother's fabulous cooking, and now it was gone, whisked away by grief.

She pressed a fist against her mouth and the tears that she had held at bay while reading her headstone inscription finally escaped, running warm trails down her face. The quote on her headstone had come from one of her favorite literary characters. As a child she had been mad for Winnie the Pooh and Daniel Granger had often read the stories to her before bedtime. It had been a practice that they had maintained for years until she had been accepted into Hogwarts, and though she had tried her best to be a big girl her first year, she had always secretly missed the sound of her father's voice lulling her into sleep.

She didn't know how long she stood in front of her house in the bitter cold before a voice broke through her reverie.

"Hermione?"

Taryn whipped around, both at the soft feminine voice, and the fact that it had spoken her true name.

Directly behind her stood a young woman. She wore a sky blue chiton and delicate silver sandals that wrapped up her legs. Her hair was a thick golden blonde piled high with a blue ribbon twirled through the curly strands. She was young, she looked all of fourteen. She didn't seem to be troubled by the chill air, despite the scant protection of her attire.

Taryn drew her wand quickly, pointing it at the woman, readying herself for whatever should happen.

"Please...I mean you no harm," she said holding her hands up. "My name is Aisa. I've traveled very far to come and see you."

Taryn stared into the woman's bright green eyes before the name clicked. "Aisa? You are the one who..."

"Yes," Aisa said quietly, "I am the one whose terrible mistake ended your life as you know it."

"What are you doing here? What could you possibly want with me?" Taryn asked, sniffing back tears that had been sad but were now angry.

"Let us go someplace else. You cannot be comfortable here in this cold."

"You are the one traipsing around in a sleeveless sack dress," Taryn said bitingly. "Besides, what would make you think that I would go anywhere with you. Its your fault that my life is a joke."

"No one else can see me, and it would look odd if we spoke here. That taxi driver waiting for you probably thinks you're a crazy person, standing in the cold talking to yourself. Please, I don't have much time before I am missed. I beg of you. I will follow you to wherever you want to go, just please listen to what I have to say," Aisa said pleadingly.

Taryn observed her for one long moment before nodding in agreement.

The drive back to Dorset felt interminable. Taryn had considered going to a pub, she didn't really want the girl anywhere near her new home, but that thought was shot down quickly. It, of course, presented the same problem as before. She couldn't be seen talking to herself in public, and it seemed that the woman had something very important to say. She would rather deal with whatever emotional fallout that resulted in the privacy of her own home. She just hoped that the woman wouldn't set off the wards that blanketed the house, and was relieved when the she appeared a moment later without fanfare.

"Please, have a seat," she said politely, amazing even herself with her calm tone, motioning Aisa toward a chair.

Aisa glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings, before sitting down with a soft sigh. She cleared her throat. "I'm not sure where to begin."

Taryn stared at her, making no effort to help the conversation along.

Finally Aisa began to speak again. "I just want to say that first and foremost, I am very sorry for the pain and suffering that my foolish action must have cost you. I don't have any other excuse but to say that I was new and overconfident in my abilities."

"So you came all this way to just to tell me that you were sorry?" Taryn asked bluntly. She was half astonished and half disgusted. What did the woman want? Forgiveness? Taryn wasn't sure if she could give it to her or even if she wanted to try. She didn't feel like absolving the girls guilt.

"No, I came here to offer you amends, though nothing I can do will give you back the life you once had. I don't have the power to restore you to your rightful body, but I do have enough to change an aspect of the bargain you made," Aisa said earnestly.

Taryn's brown wrinkled in contemplation. Where was the girl going with this? "What do you mean?"

"You can't tell anyone who you are. I've never been human, so I can't say I know how you feel, but I can imagine that that part of you is very grating. I can, well I guess the best description is loosen, that part of your agreement, but I can't completely unweave the fabric that powers it. My power will allow for you to tell one, and only one, person who you are. I must stress that you choose wisely. If the person you choose isn't reliable the results could be far reaching and disastrous. You will be betting your life on this person."

"Would the person I choose be able to tell others who I am?" Taryn asked eagerly. Finally! A chance to get back some of her life.

"They could. Technically they wouldn't be part of the bargain, but think about it carefully. If too many people knew that you were reincarnated it could disrupt the order of things. The situation in the wizarding world is precarious as it is. We know much about the person who calls himself Lord Voldemort. With the sheer terror that he causes, we could have people killing themselves, betting on the fact that they would be resurrected just to get away.

Taryn frowned. "While I understand where you are coming from, this really isn't much of a concession. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but that was my life that you ended. I may never get to interact with they people I loved ever again, and to be honest, I'm still extremely angry about that fact. Why are you doing this anyway? They already cleaned up after your mistake. If you had to sneak here to offer me this then that implies that you could get in trouble. Why trouble yourself?"

"Because you didn't deserve what happened to you, and I personally don't think bargain that you agreed to was fair. It was my fault that you felt desperate enough to make it, to my everlasting shame, and I am so very sorry. I let my overconfidence and arrogance blind me to my faults and you were the victim of my egotism. I thought that because I was chosen for Morai training that that meant that there was something special about me. I let that conceit rule me. I've been sent back to training, but I will not be completing it. I have decided to transmigrate – to be born into a new body. My soul needs to mature before it is ready for a responsibility like this again. I wanted to do right by you before I go."

Taryn didn't know what to think. On one hand she was still completely angry about what had happened. Now that she had a face to align with her anger the feelings that she had buried were surging forward. On the other hand she could tell that the girl was sincerely sorry, and that she really did want to make amends.

"I accept your apology, but I don't know about this new bargain. As much as I want to be known for who I am, the last time I entered an agreement with one of you it didn't go so well," Taryn said quietly.

Aisa's face crumpled. "I can guarantee that the one person that you choose to tell will have no repercussions leveled against them because of this, but I have to be honest. I can't control what happens to anyone that that person chooses to tell."

Taryn considered this for a moment, before nodding slowly. What choice did she really have? To live forever never being known for who she really was, or to take the chance of revealing herself and dealing with whatever came with it.

"I accept your offer," she heard herself saying.

The smile on Aisa's face was beatific. "Take my hands please."

Taryn pushed her hands forward until they made contact with Aisa's. The sting she felt as they clasped hands made her jump. It was like she had been static shocked, and she was relieved when the shock died down to a faint tingle, more like a limb that was waking up from being asleep.

She watched, her eyes widening as a soft blue glow began to encompass their joined hands. When the glow finally receded, her gaze went back to Aisa and she was shocked at what she saw.

Aisa, who had been radiant, was now faded. She had deep lines etched into her face, her once golden hair was lank and gray. She had aged a good fifty years. She rose painfully to her feet, weaving, and Taryn reached out a hand to steady her.

"Are you okay?" Taryn asked in concern.

"I'll be fine," Aisa said her voice raspy with effort, but there was a joy there that the exhaustion couldn't hide. "That took a bit more out of me than I thought it would. I think I gave you more than I intended, but I have enough to return to where I belong."

"What do you mean you gave me more?" Taryn asked in alarm.

"Don't worry," Aisa said patting her hand. "It won't harm you. In fact you may find that you need it later," she said her eyes gleaming knowingly.

"What exactly is it?" Taryn asked skeptically.

Aisa simply smiled, and stepping away from Taryn she began to fade. "Thank you for allowing me to make amends," the woman said, her voice seeming to come from a distance.

"No! You can't leave before telling me…." she began, but it did little good, Aisa was no longer there.

"Shit! What the hell is up with you people and your penchant for not answering questions," Taryn said to the empty room.

After a moment the full realization of what she had been granted slammed into her. She threw off the coat she still wore, kicking off her shoes, before burrowing under her covers. She now had what she most wanted and there was only one person who she wanted to tell.

0o0

Shura Dementyeva absently wiped a smudge from her glasses before perching them once more on her small nose. She took a sip of her coffee as she waited for the man to come. She really didn't know what to expect, had been actually amazed that he had been able to track her down, let alone was interested in her fourth great grandmother's story.

"Are you sure that you wouldn't like something to eat? The chef has made some cinnamon buns that I highly recommend," the waiter suggested. She had been sitting there for at least fifteen minutes, and was the only person sitting in the small cafe this early in the morning. He wasn't late, but because she wanted time to make herself comfortable before he arrived.

She'd spoken with him briefly on the phone, and she knew to recognize him by the green jumper that he said he would be wearing.

A flash of green caught her eye, and she turned her head in time to watch him walk directly toward her.

"Hello, I'm Severus Snape," he introduced himself, shaking her hand firmly, before sitting down across from her at the small table.

"Hello, Mr. Snape. I'm Shura, of course. Please excuse any mistakes in my English. It isn't often that I get to practice," she said smiling.

"Please, call me Severus. I want to thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I'm sure that my request seems a bit strange."

"Well, to be honest, it is a bit. To think that you came all the way to Kanash from – Scotland was it? – just to talk about a little known story. I didn't even realize that the book had even enough copies to make it out of Chuvashia."

Snape laughed a bit. "It was very hard to come by, not to mention very expensive. I was told that there were only two surviving copies, and that the other one is in a museum. However, I am a seeker of knowledge, and no price was too dear to assuage my thirst to know the truth."

Shura raised a brow at that statement. "I don't know how much I can tell you. I probably don't know much more than you do."

"You know what happens afterward. It didn't tell me what happened to the child..."