CHAPTER FOUR
Present Day
Ginny asked her mother to come over with a simple letter. Harry wrote it for her, his handwriting appearing charming on the little note. George was already there, enjoying toast with their first two kids while telling silly stories. Mrs. Weasley arrived by floo powder a second after the letter arrived.
"Hermione is in the shower right now, so be quick!" she demanded, taking a heavy seat at the table.
"Well what's got you in such a hurry, Mum. I thought she bathed daily," George chuckled. His mother shot him an aggravated look.
"Hermione wants to go into London to get some shoes. I told her I'd accompany her since Ginny was busy with the children. Why'd you want me over here? It looks like Harry left ages ago."
"He did, Mum," Ginny nodded, her eyes twinkling as she smiled brightly. "I'm expecting!"
"Oh, Ginny, number three!" her mother cheered. "I had five by the time I was your age, but that's not important right now. Congratulations! When do you think it'll come? Spring? Summer? Tomorrow?" her mother begged.
"I'll go for the proper test tomorrow, but Harry and I brewed a home potion last night. We felt comfortable breaking the news early," Ginny beamed, eying her older brother carefully. He was making a funny face, and she threw a napkin at him for revenge.
"I want everyone to keep this from Hermione. What I haven't told her is that we're taking a little side trip. Ronnie's persistence paid off with the Ministry officials, so she'll be seen by a proper psychologist today. And…I'm working on a meeting with her parents. They've been out of touch with her for years now, and we really need to reunite them."
"Leave it to Hermione to make this happy moment so drab," George sighed. "I'm happy for you, Gin, but I wish our friend was in better shape. It really is bringing the household down. Percy's afraid to return home because of her."
"Oh stop your nonsense joking, George," Mrs. Weasley scoffed, heading for the fireplace. "Be good to yourself, Ginny. G'bye, kids," Mrs. Weasley nodded. The kids waved gently, beaming like their mother as they ate their breakfast.
"You're wrong about her ruining the moment, George," Ginny murmured as she cleaned the dishes. "I was hoping Mum would tell her so she could get involved, take her mind off her troubles. She might even be able to put all that knitting to good use."
"You think a wittle bitty baby-waby will make everything right, Sis? You are so naïve," George scoffed, helping her with the dishes. "Hermione went through more than you could ever imagine. She…well you know what she did," he whispered, eying the children carefully.
"Kids, go upstairs and put on your boots. We're going for a walk," Ginny called to them. Moments later, all they heard was giggling from the kids' room. "George, I know what she did to Draco, but what I don't know is what he did to her. She needs to tell us if she wants us to help her. She told Ron a little, but she's always been close to him. She won't even speak to Harry. He tried talking to her last week with no luck."
"He's a hard worker like Draco. I wouldn't talk to him either," George grinned, laughing slightly. "It's going to take more than we know. That's why we're getting her some professional help: We can't give her what she needs. Mum will tell us what they say when she gets back tonight. I suggest you just sit tight until then."
Ginny sighed, following her rambunctious children outside. They walked around the house examining plants. Albus Severus made a flower bloom by accident, making them all smile. Ginny kept the moment to herself; she didn't know if anyone else would even listen.
Two years ago…
Hermione swept the front porch, careful to keep her eyes from the peering neighbors. She'd wondered for days now if they were the ones who were really spying, their judgmental Muggle eyes staring in their direction constantly. She knew they could hear the yelling, and if they peered hard enough, they could probably see the dirty counter that set off this morning's Howler. Draco spilt a potion meant to make Hermione more fertile, a gift from his mother, and it melted the countertop. She couldn't scrub it clean, so she made the Howler disappear with a simple fire spell.
"I bet you saw that too, didn't you?" Hermione muttered, sweeping harder. A neighbor walked by, waving gently, but Hermione kept her head down. "I can't talk to any of you. It'll only make it worse."
Every night, he raped her, trying his hardest to get himself a proper heir. He'd dose her meals with fertility potions, then force himself on her while calling her ugly names. "Mudblood" didn't even sting like it once did, and she was getting used to the tearing pain and morning bleeding she'd been experiencing for months. She knew that's why she couldn't get pregnant, her battered body constantly healing itself from his blows, but he didn't care.
Another Howler came in the back window. She'd missed the back patio where a rust stain formed. She finished the front porch, moving to the back to begin scrubbing away the rust by hand. The neighbors watched, their cold eyes making her skin prick up.
"Why don't you do something rather than sit on your arses and watch me die?!" she hissed as she scrubbed and scrubbed, making herself so tired that she nearly fainted. She didn't have the energy to finish the job. There would be more beatings tonight.
Present Day
"Mum, where's Hermione?" Ron asked as his mother served him a plate. Her upstairs room sat empty, the door wide open. His mother didn't answer, making him angry. "We can't keep secrets here. Tell me where she is!"
"They admitted her, Ron. She was too broken, too scarred. Oh, it's horrid!" his mother sobbed, tossing a dish towel into her face to muffle the sound.
"Mum, calm down, that's what we wanted!" Ron begged, but her sobbing continued. "She'll get better! I know she'll get better!"
"It's not that simple, Ron. They…they just can't get through to her. She won't speak anymore, not after they found the book!"
"What book?" Ron asked sternly. Mrs. Weasley sighed, plopping down a journal on the table. "This? What is this?"
"A Muggle wrote it. That's a copy Arthur made for me," Mrs. Wealsey sighed, sitting down across from her son and sniffling slightly. "She documented everything. She…she knew about our world. The Ministry is furious, so they're questioning Hermione more than they should. She won't talk now, not a word. She'd been paranoid about the neighbors for a while, they assume. Did she ever tell you that?"
"I'll be honest with you. I only heard what I knew from the Ministry officials who told me what happened. They searched the house, told me he'd abused her badly, and asked if I'd come get her when the questions stopped. As soon as the last one left, I drove up and retrieved her. She said nothing, just what I've told you she said. Ginny was able to contact her using the phone in the house, so she knew where we were going. Everything happened like I said, aside from that first part. I'm sorry I lied about that."
"Don't be sorry, Ron. I should've known this would spiral," Mrs. Weasley sighed, standing and serving herself some food. "That book has everything she's ever witnessed. She became obsessed with our world when she lived near Harry's aunt and uncle. She saw him arrive as a baby. She's the reason he never got Dumbledore's letter."
"Dumbledore? What did he have to do with anything?" Ron asked, giving his mother a perplexed look.
"He and Hagrid delivered Harry to those horrid people. She saw the basket laying there. She said there was either a woman or a cat there too that she had to wait on, but when all of them were gone, she checked things out. She read the letter they left to explain things to Harry. She knew they wouldn't give it to him, so she took it. She could never get it to him once he grew older because they abused him so, oh the torment he faced!" Mrs. Weasley cried.
"Get to the point, Mum. How did she know about our world, about Hermione?"
"She just watched from her window. She knows we get our mail by owl, and thanks to those damned Howlers Draco sent her all the time, she knows about those too. She saw loads of things from Harry's childhood home. You're lucky she missed your flying car both times. She wanted to watch Hermione leave, just to make sure she'd be in good hands."
"So the woman meant no harm? Why are they being so hard on Hermione then?"
"The Ministry doesn't have much of a choice, I'm afraid," she sighed, picking at her food. "They'll flip if they find out I have that book. Harry wasn't supposed to tell us anything, but…she's lucky they don't have her locked up in prison somewhere for what she did. I'm glad they see domestic violence as a problem, and they aren't afraid to take the victim's side if things go sour."
"And the woman will be okay?" Ron asked. Mrs. Weasley shrugged, sighing heavily. "Do you think we'll ever know what all he did?"
"You can read what she wrote, but I wouldn't, Ron. It's just too difficult to see someone you love as a family member go through such things. Just let her tell you in her own time, if she's ever able to," Mrs. Weasley whispered, looking up as Harry and Ginny entered the room, their kids in tow. Her husband followed them inside.
The news was announced and dinner commenced. It was a quiet dinner, a rare sight in a home like The Burrow.
Two years ago…
Hermione peered out the guest bedroom window at the rainy weather outside. Draco had locked her inside, letting in a friend of his mother's to do the cleaning. She'd made too many mistakes, and the deep gash on her cheek proved how far she'd fallen.
Draco was angry, very angry, that she'd gone another month without becoming pregnant. Add on another burnt meal and a messy laundry room, and Hermione almost deserved the vicious slap to the face, the slap that slammed her into the counter as she fell. He refused to treat her. He simply locked her away.
She looked over the room and its knickknacks. Baby things littered one corner, personal boxes in another. At least Draco had the decency to throw some of her things in there with her, though it was just another sign that he was pulling away from her. Hermione felt divorce on the horizon, something she realized she was secretly hoping for. After everything they'd been through together, or rather that she had been through, divorce felt like a nice final option.
A crack of thunder roared through the house. Hermione looked up to see the rain falling harder. Then, the power flickered off. Draco, who must've been in their room doing something, stormed to the guest room and burst through the door.
"FIX IT! FIX IT RIGHT FUCKING NOW!" he demanded, dragging her to her feet and forcing her to stand.
"I can't. You can't control the power from inside the house; it comes from outside," Hermione babbled, her voice shrill and scared. In the darkness, Draco seemed to have a dark glow about him, something terrifying.
"I don't give a damn where the fuck it comes from! FIX IT!" he roared, shaking her as another blast of thunder sounded from outside. Hermione faltered, nearly falling where she stood, but Draco ripped her upwards. A crack sounded in the room and Hermione tried to crumple down from the pain. "Get up! Get up! FIX THIS NOW!" he screamed.
"I…I cant."
"You will!"
"I can't!" Hermione screamed, breaking into sobs. "I can't do it! I can't do anything!"
"Damn right you fucking mudblood," Draco scoffed, turning and locking the door. He was gone, leaving her on the floor writhing in pain. It was too much, far too much, and she felt herself fall back onto herself. Something within, a darkness, called to her. She embraced it. It saved her from herself, from the world outside. It saved her.
Present Day
"She won't speak," Mr. Weasley murmured, putting down his morning paper and sipping at his cup of tea. "I couldn't tell you that while your mother was here, but she won't speak."
"What do you think the problem is?" Ginny asked, passing a plate to Ron as he walked into the room. Their mother was in the garden tending to a wild beast that was trying to eat the vegetables, giving them all a moment alone.
"I read some of her journal, the Muggle woman's journal. Did Mum tell you about it?" Ron asked. The others nodded. "He yelled at her from day one, tormented her from afar. She didn't know how he knew, but he saw everything within that house. He knew when things were dirty, when things were broken. He'd send her the Howlers to get her to work harder and harder…" he trailed off, looking up to his sister. "Don't ever tell her you're expecting again. She won't be able to take it."
"Why not?" George asked, taking a seat and calling over a plate using a levitation spell.
"He wanted her to get pregnant so badly. His mother was involved, some kind of treatments were involved, and he was definitely involved. He…I can't say it. I just can't bloody say it!" Ron exclaimed, leaving the table swiftly.
"One more thing before your mum gets back," Mr. Weasley whispered, peering out the back door to make sure she wasn't coming. "In the physical examination, they found a lot of evidence. He did horrid things to her. They think that's why she won't speak. Remembering all of that hardship broke her mind, her spirit. That's why she doesn't read anymore," he said, tossing a book onto the table. They immediately recognized it as one of the books she had in her room.
"The pages are gone!" George gasped, opening the book. Hermione meticulously cut out the text part of each book, leaving only white or yellow pages.
"We should've made contact with her. We knew something was going on by how she never wrote or answered us," Ginny said quickly. Her father rubbed her hand gently. "We should've known."
"We didn't expect this, love. No one did."
The backdoor opened and they immediately silenced, continuing with breakfast without a word.
Two years ago…
Voices, three of them. One male, two females. One female familiar, the other one not. Hermione thought it was a dream, a vivid painful dream. She'd been out one day? Two days? She lost count within the blackness, the comforting blackness that overcame her. She was happy within it. She didn't feel the pain. She didn't know she was being replaced, that the voices made sounds she'd never heard before.
Fake, all of it fake. She wished she'd never been married. The darkness answered: She didn't reject Ron's advances, she didn't fall in love with Draco. She was never a mudblood in a pure house. She never lived.