Thank you to all who have been following! Really means a lot. Got a bit carried away writing this chapter. Hope you enjoy! Nagi92 - thank you for you review! Looking forward to seeing what you think
My daughter's close to dying
Hermione hit the floor with a thud. Cursing under her breath she struggled to get up.
'Do you want to rest?'
Yes. Desperately. But she couldn't let Ginny know that. They'd been training for three hours without a break and she was exhausted. Hermione suspected her opponent was too, but Ginny would never give in.
The camp had specific training grounds for fighters. Even children were taught basic shield and attack spells, though they didn't have wands themselves. Wands were apparently becoming harder to come by. Olivander worked tirelessly on what materials they could source for him. It wasn't easy. Voldemort's men strictly guarded wand trees and any animals who could lend themselves as cores.
Hermione was finding this wand hard to manage. Or maybe the absence of magic for so long had made things difficult. Voldemort's lessons with her had been sporadic, often interrupted by her pregnancies, and she came to the bitter conclusion that she was not the witch she thought she was.
'No.' Hermione got to her feet. 'I need to get stronger.'
She saw the expression change in Ginny's eyes, a softer understanding even, but then her eyes became cold and hard once more.
Had this been years before, Hermione would have taken Ginny in a fight easily. Now, with Ginny's improved skill and Hermione out of practice, it was Ginny who was coming out on top. No wonder the witch looked so smug.
Finally, Hermione managed to disarm her and sent a body binding curse before Ginny could react.
For a moment, Hermione felt like running off and leaving her there. But she brushed that dark feeling aside and undid the spell.
'At last.' Ginny panted, but still maintaining her swaggering confidence. 'I thought you'd never get to step two.'
Hermione didn't trust herself to say anything. Nonetheless, Ginny waited for a response. When she didn't get one she gestured back to the camp.
'Come on. There's no use us continuing, we're both tired. We can continue in the morning.'
Ginny held out her hand for the wand. Hermione gripped it a little tighter. She'd remembered how powerful you could feel with a wand, how powerless you felt without it.
'Can I keep it a little longer?'
Ginny frowned. 'What for?'
'So I can practice.'
She wasn't buying it. Abruptly, Ginny took the wand off of her and tucked it securely into her belt. 'We can't risk you losing it. Besides, you still need to obtain a wand license.'
'A wand license?' Hermione was flabbergasted. 'Are you serious?'
'To carry a wand on this camp, you have to have a wand license. You say you've not had a wand for years, why would you think we'd just hand you one when supplies are so scarce?'
Angrily Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything. She was being treated like a child and she could tell that Ginny was enjoying it.
'My experience these past years may have been different to yours,' Hermione said fiercely, 'but they aren't any less valid.'
Ginny didn't even blink. 'Come on. Let's go and get dinner.'
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There was a celebration that night. A couple were getting married. Such happiness was rare here, so everything that could be was celebrated. Floating candles filled the space, while brightly coloured flowers adorned all the tents and trees as decoration. Everyone still wore their fighting uniform, but the bride had a crown of flowers while the groom tucked a flower into a buttonhole. They looked full of bliss and in love. After the small ceremony, music played and people danced and sang. Elated with the change in mood, children ran around the camp joyously shrieking at this freedom in their childhood.
But Hermione found herself staying away. She'd watched the ceremony, but as soon as the celebrations had started she'd slipped away.
Seamus found her sitting on top of her bed reading. 'You disappeared.'
She didn't bother trying to dress it up. 'People still stare at me. They're confused. I'm confused.'
Seamus sat down beside her and gave a shy smile. 'I might be good at putting my foot in it a lot, but I'm also good at listening if you want to have a chat?'
Hermione wasn't going to take him up on the offer, but all of a sudden she found herself telling him about how she felt like a stranger. The people she'd known and held in her heart all these years were changed. Even jolly Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were different. They treated her with respect and love, but they also treated her as if she were broken. She hated that. She hated it because it felt true. She did feel broken. What she needed was for people to tell her that she wasn't.
'And Ginny hates me.' Hermione finished up miserably. 'Seamus, it honestly breaks my heart. I cared for her like a sister. But now she sees me as an enemy. I don't know how to persuade her otherwise.'
'Have you tried talking to her?'
'I'm honestly too afraid of what she might say. Her words really hurt me last time. Besides, she's probably too busy enjoying the festivities right now.'
Seamus gave an awkward smile. 'Actually, she's hiding in her room too.'
Hermione frowned. 'Really? Why?' Ginny had seemed fine after their training, cheerful even. They'd not said goodbye to one another at the camp, but she hadn't expected her to. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen her at the ceremony.
'Ginny hates all talk of love.' Seamus sighed sadly, looking down at his hands, his sandy hair flopped over his eyes. 'She cannot bear it. She finds it too painful.'
'Harry?' Hermione breathed. 'Even now?'
'Forever, she says. Some men were stupid enough to try it on with her a few years ago. She jinxed them.'
Hermione smiled; now that sounded like Ginny.
'It must be the same for you, you must miss Ron. Oh! I'm sorry,' Hermione's eyes had begun to spring with tears, 'I didn't mean..'
'No. It's okay.' Hermione wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
'I shouldn't have brought up your boyfriend. I'm sorry.'
'That's the sad thing, Seamus. He never got to be.'
Seamus wrinkled his nose in confusion. 'What? I thought you two got together when you guys went off in seventh year?'
'I'd had a crush on Ron since third year. I was sure I fell in love while we went looking for Horcruxes. When he left me and Harry, I was heartbroken. When he came back, I was overjoyed. But all that time we stayed friends. We kissed each other for the first time at the Battle of Hogwarts. Finally, I thought. I was so sure we had a future together. But it was cut short. I love Ron, loved him, but he was taken from me before he could properly be mine. That's why I've felt so foolish to cling onto his memory the way I have for all these years. I used to dream that he was the father to my children. I used to create daydreams of us together as a couple.' She gave a soft chuckle. 'Does that make me mad? To base it all on one day of teenage kisses?'
Tentatively, Seamus put his arm around her and pulled her into an embrace. 'No.' He said softly into her hair. 'I don't think it makes you mad at all.'
The two stayed like that for a while. The embrace from Seamus wasn't like one from Harry or Ron, but it was still good.
'He loved you for years, you know.' Seamus said eventually. 'Probably since third year too. We couldn't get him to shut up about you. Harry was oblivious, you know what he was like.'
Hermione laughed. Understanding subtlety and subtext had never been Harry's strong point.
'He was so jealous when you went to the Yule Ball with Krum. I was as well to be fair, top league Quidditch player! After that it was like he never let you leave his sight. But he always was paranoid that eventually you and Harry would get together. He went off with Lavender to give the two of you a chance.' Seamus hesitated. 'Did you and Harry ever…?'
'We kissed once.' Hermione said honestly. There was no point of trying to hide anything now. 'Ron had left. We were both so lonely. The horcrux had us depressed. We became each other's comfort. One night he got me to dance with him and the next minute we were kissing. Sometimes we'd fall asleep with my head on his chest and his arm around me. But it never went any further.'
Seamus eyes were wide as saucers. Hermione laughed. 'Do you judge me?'
'No. And honestly, I'm not all that surprised either. No offence.'
'None taken.'
When Seamus left her a while later, Hermione snuck out of her room and into Ginny's. The girl was curled up in a ball on her bed, turned away from the door to try and hide the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
Without hesitation, Hermione curled up beside her old friend and held her close. 'It's okay, Ginny.' She whispered. 'I'm here for you.'
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The following morning as Hermione was getting ready to go to training, a child arrived to tell her that Mister Flamel wanted to see her.
'Ah, Miss Granger.' The old man rose from his seat. 'Do come in.'
His tent was the most ornate she'd seen. Not filled with luxury like the court, but filled with objects of knowledge. Every side was crammed with potions, herbs and various artifacts. Above them swirled a map of the stars, shimmering like diamonds.
He chuckled at her open mouth. 'Yes, our galaxy is certainly something spectacular to behold.'
'Do you study the stars?'
'I try to learn from them. They send us hints of what is to come, prophecies if you will. They've not yet fed me a false story.'
Hermione studied him as he pottered around. The man had to be over a hundred years old. There was a skip in his step despite his slow tottering. His skin was paper thin. Long silvery hair flowed loose around his shoulders and his eyes were clouded grey.
'Are you a descendant of Nicholas Flamel?'
Flamel laughed. 'My dear, I am Nicholas Flamel.'
Hermione gasped. 'I thought you were dead.' She blushed. 'Forgive me, that was rude.'
'Well, I ought to be.' He said cheerfully. 'It's a miracle that I'm not.'
'Dumbledore said you were going to destroy the Philosophers Stone?'
'And I did. My wife and I knew that we'd have a couple more years left to set our affairs in order. When she died three years after the stone was destroyed, I knew my time was soon. But for some reason I kept on living.' He smiled up at the stars circling above him. 'Maybe they have a purpose for me.'
The old man was soon lost in thought. Hermione hesitated. 'You wanted to see me?'
'Ah yes. Take a seat.'
As she sat opposite him, she was suddenly struck by a memory of sitting in the Headmasters Office opposite Dumbledore. It made her smile.
'So,' Flamel clasped his hands and leaned in. 'What can you tell me about you?'
Hermione was taken aback. 'Um. I'm Hermione Granger. Born to Jude and Lucy Granger. I found out I was a witch when I was eleven and Professor Dumbledore came to our house. I was sorted in Gryffindor.' She was floundering. 'Sorry, I don't know what I'm supposed to say.'
'Your parents. Muggles?'
Hermione nodded.
'And you never suspected anything else?'
'No. They were terrified when they found out I was a witch. Supportive, but terrified.' She frowned. 'Are you trying to tell me that I'm adopted? Because I really look like them, I've never doubted that I'm their biological daughter.'
Flamel smiled. 'You are definitely their biological daughter, Hermione. But has Voldemort ever spoken to you about your blood?'
Hermione flinched. It was the first time she'd heard his name spoken since arriving at the camp. It was so matter of fact.
'Um. Yes. He let it slip that my blood was more powerful than his. He called me Miss Tribusanguis. They all did.'
Flamel grimaced. 'Then he knows more than I'd hoped. Thank you, Miss Granger. You may go to your training now.'
Hermione sat there, stunned. 'Is that it?' It started out as a whisper. 'Aren't you going to tell me anything else?'
'Not yet.'
Hermione let out a scream of rage as she moved away from the table. For years she'd wanted answers and now she was being told to wait.
Flamel didn't seem the slightest bit perturbed by her outburst. 'When the time is right.'
'The time is right now!' Hermione wanted to shake him. 'Please, I need to know. I'm just ordinary, I swear. Whatever you or he thinks, I am just ordinary. Just tell me what you think you know.'
'Miss Granger, I would, but I cannot. As long as your children remain under his control, it is not safe. The only ones who know of the prophecy are myself, Kingsley and Voldemort. That's the way it shall stay until your daughters are safely with us again. Currently, the less people who know the better.'
She wanted to argue, but if it was in the best interests of her daughters…
Flamel beamed at her. 'Excellent. But before you go, I have one small favour.' He beckoned her to follow as he pottered over to the small cabinet in the corner. When he opened it, Hermione saw the silvery glimmer of a pensieve. Her darker older reflection stared back. Is that really what she looked like these days?
'To your knowledge, did Voldemort ever do any tests on your blood? To see about your ancestory?'
Hermione shook her head.
'Perhaps when he first took you? What do you remember?'
Hermione frowned in concentration, biting her lip as she did so. 'I think he put me in a cell. Then the Death Eaters took their turns.' Her eyes welled up with tears which she blinked back furiously. 'One day he told them to leave me alone. It was years ago. I can't remember much'
Flamel regarded her curiously. She felt a little uncomfortable with this old man scanning her with his wise eyes. Like Dumbledore, he had a way of looking at you as if he could tell every secret.
'Miss Granger, would you allow me to see in your memories? I believe you may have been obliviated. If I access that memory, it could help me very much. I need to discover how Voldemort learned who you are.'
'I thought being obliviated got rid of the memory?'
'It suppresses it. The human mind is far cleverer than mere magic. However, I would need to go into the pensieve alone to access this memory. I'm afraid it would not play for you.'
Hermione hesitated.
'You are afraid of what I may find? What I might see? My dear girl, I am very old. I have seen a lot. Nothing shocks me anymore. I will not judge you on anything I see.'
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Flamel breathed in the air of this new place. He flexed his fingers and arched his back out in a stretch. Every memory made him feel a little younger. Not that he could allow himself to live in the past. He'd had to limit these visits.
He was in the dungeons of a castle, the stone walls crumbling and cobwebs littered the ceiling. It had clearly not been used for a long time. In the centre was a large cauldron, gently smoking, the fumes burnt like acid in his throat. He stepped away. By the shelves another wizard was nervously searching through ingredients, muttering under his breath in a panicked sort of way. On a table nearby was a potion book lying open on the page Flamel was expecting it to be. Yes, his theory was correct.
At that moment he heard voices coming from outside and the thudding of boots as a dozen people ran down the stairs. The wizard searching through ingredients dropped something in fright. The glass smashed on the floor.
The doors flew open and a dozen Death Eaters flew in, cheering and crowing at their victory. But they all got very silent when their Lord entered the room. In his grip he held Hermione. She looked so young. Seventeen years old. Her eyes darted around. To the untrained eye it made her look frightened, but he knew she was looking at ways of escape. But there was wildness grief in her eyes that he knew had only just got there and would probably stay for the rest of her life.
Voldemort dragged her along to the cauldron. One of the Death Eaters pushed forward the trembling wizard.
'Is it done, Ducitor?' Voldemort hissed.
Ducitor paled even more. Flamel wondered if he would pass out. 'I…I just need the blood…my….my Lord'
The girl cried out as Voldemort ripped her sleeve and held her arm out over the cauldron.
'When will I know?'
'The…the p-potion needs to b-brew for a m-month, my lord. Th-then you will know.'
'Know what?'
Flamel was surprised at the girl's fearlessness. He had to admire her courage. There was no way he would have spoken up in that scenario at her age. To his surprise, Voldemort seemed to like it.
'My lovely little Gryffindor.' He kissed her on the cheek and laughed when she pulled away in horror. 'I'm seeing who you are. Who your blood is.'
He could see Hermione's jaw clench. 'I'm a mudblood. I had muggle parents.'
Voldemort laughed again. 'That's what they wanted you to think. When they hid you. And how well they hid you. My ancestors have been searching for centuries. But the night you were born, I knew. The locket knew. I'd planned to take you as a child, but I was ripped from my body. I told myself that I could wait. Then you became friends with Potter and I was delighted. So much easier to keep an eye on two people if they're always together. I always expected him to fuck you.'
The Death Eaters laughed with him as she recoiled. Voldemort kept a tight grip of her arm as he nodded at one of his servants. Hermione shook with fright as he was brought a long silvery jagged dagger. Yet he held onto her as easily as if she were a rag doll.
'Over the years you showed all of the qualities of your ancestors. And your magic was so advanced, not that your teachers did much about it. How they could have pushed you! I told my Death Eaters to take you at the Department of Mysteries. It should have been so easy, but you managed to best them. And here we are.'
Hermione cried out in pain as the dagger met with her flesh and carved a line down her arm. Blood flowed out and into the cauldron which hissed and sparkled. When satisfied, Voldemort healed Hermione's arm.
'Should you not be who I think you are, I'll keep you around for a little bit longer.' He said matter of factly. 'You could prove a useful hostage. Then I'd kill you.'
'Gives a go with her first, my lord!' One of the Death Eaters called out from the back. There were some cheers and laughed.
Voldemort chuckled with them. 'Once I have my turn.' He his face to Hermione who was still struggling to get away. He used his wand to tilt her chin up to face him, so tenderly but so sinister. He watched as a tear escaped and fell down her cheek. With a pale finger he took the tear and pressed it to his lips.
'Until then Miss Tribusanguis.' He said softly. 'Obliviate.' Hermione fainted in his arms and Flamel felt the magical pull from the pensieve as he was brought back to the present day.
It confirmed his fear. Voldemort was not working from a guess. He was working from the truth.
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Scorpius had been gone a week and there was still no word.
'No news is good news.' Mrs Weasley said for the hundredth time. They were in the communal kitchen; everyone on the camp ate together. Limited rations meant that everything was divided equally and a communal dining hall was the best way to supervise that. Occasionally some were caught sneaking extra food, but other than a firm talking to from Kingsley, there wasn't much punishment. You couldn't exactly blame people for being hungry and desperate.
Hermione and Mrs Weasley were going around with the soup pots and ladling it into bowls. She'd been surprised to learn that at the camp manual labour was used more than magic. In the times before, a flick of a wand would have done this job, but now it was the servers. Kingsley said less magic made it harder for them to be tracked. Hermione believed less magic meant more work for people to be kept busy.
'Honestly, my dear.' The older witch carried on insistently. 'No news is good news. Scorpius would have sent a message right away if there'd been a problem. He's probably just been busy. And we have Ernie there too, as well as some others.'
Hermione watched as the soup plopped into a child's bowl. Through working at the kitchen she'd learnt that soup was on the menu when the food had started to go past its best. Disguised in a soup no one could complain, or worse, panic.
The child was probably about six, skin and bones with large haunted eyes that took up most of his face.
'Jimmy can have extra.' Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at him. 'You need to get your strength up, don't you, young man?'
The boy gave a shy grin at the two women as he received his extra portion, discreetly out of view from the others. When he was out of earshot, Mrs. Weasley leaned in to Hermione. 'Poor lad. He arrived a week or so before you did. All by himself. It's a wonder he found us.'
'Where were his parents?'
'He says his father died when he was two, his mother died a few days before he reached the camp. We sent some of our boys out to bury her. He said his mother heard rumours of the camp and just set off, desperate to believe that it was true.'
'So there are still more out there?'
Mrs. Weasley hesitated. 'I forget you've been quite sheltered.' She didn't mean it unkindly. 'There are still villages dotted around. Some fairly happy under the new rule, well, if not happy then accepting. The nobles at court are all in charge of various villages, they act as their landlords if you will. Some are fair. Some can't be bothered and leave them to it. Some are monsters. Quite a few of the people we've taken in are from villages Yaxley used to own. Occasionally him and his men would go and plunder the village and when they got bored they'd burn it down. Ernie intervened after the last one and now he can't own villages anymore.'
Hermione felt sick at the thought of Yaxley and his men setting upon innocent people. She knew what sort of things they'd done. The look in the women's eyes mirrored her own. She thought of Yaxley's baby daughter, how Pansy had cried at giving birth to a girl. Would she grow up in this current future? Or a new one?
'Can we send groups out to get all the villagers here?' Hermione asked. 'To keep them safe?'
Mrs. Weasley grimaced. 'If it were that simple it would be done in a heartbeat. But already we are struggling. We have aid coming from France and are currently looking to receive more, but you're talking about several thousand people. We just don't have enough.'
'So you send them away?'
'Anyone who finds out about us and comes to the camp is welcomed in. We've never turned anyone away. But we have to be careful about who we advertise the camp to. People can be blackmailed, threatened or tortured. People could even just fancy the reward that would come for exposing us. If we turned up to a village to rescue them, they may say that they don't want saving and call the Death Eaters on us.' She shuddered.
'How can people not want rescuing?'
'It's amazing what propaganda can achieve. You see it in the newspapers all time. They are sent to the villages as the absolute truth. Instead it's all scapegoating. Muggles and muggleborns are blamed for every tiny problem. They pick at a communities greatest fear until it becomes believable. Muggles are stealing magic, money and corrupting the youth. The current Ministry are working for the people to make our country great again.'
Hermione realised she was gripping the soup pot far too tight, her knuckles were white. 'That's disgusting.'
'This is our current politics.'
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When Hermione woke up for the seventh night in a row screaming, Dean Thomas shook her awake.
'Hermione! Hermione, it's okay. It's just a nightmare.'
Sweating and with her heart still thudding, Hermione clung onto him, scared he too would leave. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'
'It's okay, there's nothing to be sorry for.'
'Shall I get your kit?'
Another voice. Ginny! She stood at the foot of the bed, frowning with concern.
'I've got it with me. Hermione, look at me.'
She forced herself to look at him. The visions of her nightmare still swirling around in her head making her feel dizzy and sick.
'Have you suffered night terrors before?'
Slowly, she was starting to feel herself come back. It was like landing after flying from a great height.
'Years ago. Not for a long time.'
'Did they used to give you anything before bed?'
'Yes. They gave me potions every day. Before bed, in the morning and with every meal.'
She watched as Dean exchanged a look with Ginny. Then he held onto her hand and gave a reassuring smile.
'Hermione, I believe they were keeping you on a sleeping draught and another potion to keep you awake in the day. Now that you're not on these, your mind is remembering things it has been suppressing. Things that would have been saved for dreams.'
He sounded correct. She couldn't remember the last time she had a dream.
'So, will you make me sleeping draughts?'
'No.' Dean said firmly. 'It's clear these have become addictive for you. During the day you fluctuate between tired and hyperactive. Very common in those on a come down. Giving you more potions might treat the symptoms, but they won't treat the cause.'
Hermione shook her head to try and clear the fogginess in her mind. 'The cause is that I've been held prisoner by that bastard for so many years and he's still alive.' She said through gritted teeth.
Dean didn't even flinch. He regarded her with the same calmness as a doctor. 'Yes.' He said honestly. 'You're right. But I'm not going to prescribe you anything that prevents you from moving forward. These potions are keeping you under control. For now I'll put you on a different version, it will wean you off to the point where you no longer need it. But it will only work if you learn to clear your mind.'
Hermione had a sudden memory of Harry, full of rage after Snape had said the same thing to him in his Occlumency lessons. She now understood where he was coming from.
'Please.' She'd meant to sound in control, but she could feel her voice wobbling already. 'I need them. I know I didn't know I was taking them, but I need them to function. Please.'
Dean took her hand. 'Hermione-'
'Do you know what I've been seeing every time I close my eyes this past week?' All attempts for calm and strength were gone. 'Burned bodies. It was before I had Rose. He'd held a party, locked his servants in a room and set it on fire. I had to clean up the mess. No magic. I had to drag the charred bodies from the room, down a corridor and outside to where I knew the werewolves would feast on the remains later. I threw up over the stench several times. There is no other smell like it. I had their blood on my clothes, their skin under my fingernails. I close my eyes and I'm back there. Only this time I can make out the faces and it's Ron and Harry and Fred and Sirius and so many others that we lost along the way. Please. Please don't make me face that.'
She saw Dean hesitate. 'I'll give you a smaller dose of the sleeping potion. It will be enough to make you sleep well but not so much that it makes you drowsy in the day and need a pick me up. Over time I'll see what else I can do.'
Hermione was relieved. 'Thank you.'
When he'd left, Ginny had thrown her arms around Hermione, tears pouring freely down her cheeks.
'I'm so sorry for treating you like a shit.' Ginny mumbled into Hermione's shoulder. 'I'm so, so sorry.'
She was about to reply when Scorpius came flying into the tent, his face white.
Hermione's chest tightened. 'Scorpius. Scorpius, what is it? Where are my daughters?'
'Rose is sick. She's very sick. Hermione, I think she's dying.'
Well of course that was coming, given the chapter title and all. But what will Hermione do? Can she do anything? You'll have to find out in the next chapter! Coming soon...
P.s - See, I said Ginny wouldn't stay mean.
