Chapter 2: Pro Salute Animӕ (For the Welfare of the Soul)
"I don't deserve a soul, yet I still have one. I know because it hurts."
― Douglas Coupland, The Gum Thief
Tom Riddle was easily Margaret's favorite toddler. He wasn't prone to tantrums, kept to himself and therefore did not require a lot of supervision, and was quiet. Almost unusually quiet. She heard Mrs. Cole and another supervisor discuss his behavior, and they considered whether or not he was mentally deficient. He had yet to speak, and did not seem to take an interest in most toys.
Margaret wasn't so sure. While he didn't say anything out loud, he always seemed to be paying attention to what others were saying. She also witnessed Tom occasionally follow directives given to other children, although she couldn't state for sure whether that inconsistency was because he didn't understand what they were saying, or because he did understand, but chose not to listen.
He had been bullied by a few older boys a few times. On one notable occasion one boy sat on his legs, as another stood over him and repeatedly hit Tom in the face. Margaret had been quick to break the trio of boys up, and had picked Tom up and cuddled him to her chest. Despite the tears streaming down his cheeks, he had seemed immune to her affections. Not that she had held him very often in the couple of years that she had been looking after him, but most children at least attempted to reciprocate, or tried to burrow their way into her chest. Tom just looked up at her in what she would have ascribed as resentment in an older child's face, and pushed back in her arms until she released him back to the ground. He stared at her for a moment, before walking away.
Well, that suited Margaret just fine. Even after familiarizing herself at the Orphanage over the past couple of years, she was still rather uncomfortable with overly physical demonstrations of affection or comfort. She did it mostly out of a sense of desperation when the noise of their screaming cries became too much for her to handle.
Still, she was happy to be out of the room of infants. Squalling babes was not something she could adapt to with any kind of contentment. Things were looking up, especially after she heard Mrs. Cole mention a group of nuns that had elected to come and teach some of the children how to read. Margaret had never had the opportunity to learn her letters, and wondered with some excitement whether or not they would be willing to teach her too.
Luna squeezed her hands to draw attention back to her face. "All is not lost, Hermione. You simply need to change your fate."
Hermione could not prevent the frown, although she stopped the sneer. Just barely. "Isn't that a paradox, Luna? If you can control it, can it really be called fate?"
Luna laughed a tinkling laugh. "Oh, Hermione. You would not be the one in control."
Hermione did not bother to keep skepticism from dominating her facial features. She would not be in control? So how in the world was she supposed to change her fate? This entire conversation was turning into an unnecessary headache, and Hermione felt foolish for hoping Luna could employ a bit of pragmatism.
Luna seemed to sense her dilemma, and clarified with an indulgent smile. "You can initiate the start of the change. But you will not be able to control what takes place after the beginning."
That actually made sense, although it made Hermione feel incredibly wary. She hated not being in control of herself, or her immediate surroundings. But more than that, a lack of control in her circumstance could have serious ramifications. Would she be willing to risk the consequences? "Wouldn't that be too dangerous to seriously consider? We barely won the war, Luna. Wouldn't prolonging my life require guaranteeing his survival? Think of all of the people that could die as a result." She shook her head as if to emphasize her point. Of course she was afraid of death, but could she really be so selfish?
Luna's slight smile did not waver. "Some things are meant to happen. You shouldn't worry. That's not the way this works."
Hermione frowned. "How what works?"
"Changing your fate. And changing his. But first you need to discover what you actually want." Luna pulled her up by her hands, and led her to the back of the Prefect's bath. They passed the empty tub and stopped in front of a familiar stained glass window depicting a curious mermaid. Hermione's frown deepened, and she started to pull at Luna's hands. Everything coming out of her mouth sounded enigmatic and nonsensical, and wrapped in the tight embrace that was her self-pity, Hermione just wanted to sleep...
She was stopped as the blonde witch tightened her grip and turned to her with an uncharacteristic seriousness back in her eyes, framed by tightened, grim lips.
"Hermione. You are a dear friend. I value you as my friend, and will do my best to help you, but there are some things you need to seriously consider. First, the current state of Tom's soul. According to Harry, Professor Dumbledore informed him in death that Tom was stuck in limbo as some stunted, deformed creature. This is what happens to individuals with a soul that has been split open like his was. Like yours is. If you do not do something to fix this, now while you still can, you will be cursed to an eternal non-existence."
Hermione's grip tightened as all of the breath left her body in a whoosh. And then she started to hyperventilate as she considered Luna's statement. She did not want to die, but had been somewhat relieved at the thought that the end of her life would bring an end to the pain and anxiety. But what she described was much worse. Eternal loneliness, despair, and agony… It wasn't fair. What had she done to deserve this?
She felt warm tears finally fall from her eyes before Luna let go of her hands and grasped her chin. She brought Hermione's eyes up to meet hers.
"You can be brilliant, Hermione. And brave, and loyal, and other pleasant things, but you are also overly critical and closed-minded. You need to have faith. You need to trust yourself. Trust magic. That is the only way you are going to be able to come out of this still alive." Hermione stared into Luna's bright pale eyes through tears that burned. She knew she wasn't perfect. She was too independent, too obstinate, and uncomfortable adopting ideas she thought were too esoteric in nature, but... was she willing to let go of her fear of failure, her need to be in control? Could she defy her very nature to enable magic to do what it must? Did she have a choice?
Hermione nodded, overwhelmed, and Luna gave her a brilliant smile before turning around to face the mermaid. She stated in a stilted voice that echoed off the surrounding stone, "I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living." The mermaid nodded, before one of the windows beneath her opened like a door. Luna wasted no time grabbing Hermione's hand and dragging her inside a darkly lit space. Moving closer Hermione could see light from behind them bounce off of a mirror.
"The Mirror of Erised!" Hermione exclaimed once she was close enough to recognize the runes and script of Latin shining on the edge of the frame. As she took a few steps closer to the magical artifact in scholarly awe, Hermione acknowledged the fact that, ever since hearing about Harry's and Ron's experiences during First year, she had been very curious to discover what her greatest desire might be.
She paused now to give herself a few moments to consider the idea, and couldn't come up with an answer. Which frightened her more than she would have suspected. What happened to her ambitions? Her drive? Her direction?
"How did you know this was here?" she asked Luna in an off-hand manner, clenching her fists to hide her apprehension as she looked around the room.
"The castle told me," Luna stated, giving her a side-glance that was filled with expectation.
Hermione looked back at her in surprise. "The castle told you?" she repeated with a furrowed brow. She knew the castle was sentient to some extent; little else could explain the unpredictability of the staircases, or the castle's ability to defend itself. She did not realize that it was capable of actually speaking to students, however.
Luna nodded. "It speaks to those who take the time to listen."
Hermione acknowledged the slight with a sigh. "Is there any way I could learn how?"
Luna nodded again. "That is why we are here." She walked over to the mirror, gazed at her reflection with pursed lips and a curious tilt in her head. It was only a few moments before she gave a wistful sigh and moved to the right side of the enchanted artifact. "Your turn."
Hermione shuffled over with trepidation, oddly comforted that Luna had looked into the mirror too, and stood in front of the mirror stiffly. For a few long moments she didn't see anything other than her reflection. Then, slowly the color came back into her cheeks, her hair sprang to life in its previous luster, and her figure filled. Harry and Ron appeared behind her, happy and filled with life. Her parents stood behind them, their awareness and unconditional acceptance obvious in their smiles. She relaxed and looked back at Luna. She should have guessed.
Luna's expression did not change. "The next time you look at the mirror I want you to think about this. Tom Riddle is your soulmate. You need to find a way to reconcile the slight in your soul if you are to survive."
Hermione frowned, and slowly looked back over at the mirror, Luna's words reverberating in her mind. She wasn't sure what to anticipate being able to see, really, but then-
Her reflection disappeared, and there was a dark haired man. Tom Riddle as he must appear in limbo; his body stood in barely held together pieces as he grimaced through an agony Hermione could feel dull in her bones. He appeared to be fighting against a sandstorm made up of black particles, using a fleshy piece of bleeding arm to shield his face and struggling through what looked to be an unrelenting wind. The image snapped back to a visage of herself standing before the Veil inside the Department of Mysteries. The Hermione in the mirror shoved potions and a small string tie pouch inside of her much-abused handbag. Someone shot a spell at her back, and real time Hermione absentmindedly recognized it as the same spell Professor McGonagall had cast in her office. Then mirror-Hermione, ribbons pouring from her chest, took a familiar cloak in hand and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her body disappeared. Tying Harry's Invisibility cloak around her neck, she shot into the Veil, the last glimpse of her chin disappearing as the hood fell forward with the momentum.
Real-time Hermione took a shuttered breath and a step back, and almost immediately the vision ended and she once again saw her reflection. Stunned tired eyes framed around lanky curls stared back at her. She pulled at her pale cheeks, considering what she had seen, before turning back to Luna and reporting the events.
She and Luna attempted to work out what she had done. They agreed that the Deathly Hallow supposedly powerful enough to evade death had probably prevented her from immediately dying as she passed through the Veil. They imagined that the ribbons could be used to help guide Hermione to Tom inside of Limbo, and that perhaps the potions could restore or regenerate his body for travel. But what about the state of his soul? Or hers? Which was their entire quandary, really.
"Perhaps sympathetic magic could be used? Something tied to the power of your bond?"
Hermione snorted derisively. "Is there power in a bond that hasn't been actualized?"
Luna's eyes were wide as she frowned. "If there wasn't a power to it, then why are you in pain?"
Excellent point.
"And there is no reason why it couldn't be actualized when you finally meet."
Hermione frowned, more than a little anxious thinking about their eventual confrontation. Although the act of actualizing a bond did sound like it carried the potential to salvage the status of their souls…
"Also to consider," Luna absentmindedly circled her chin and then her lips with a swirling finger, "How will you return? We can't know for sure that the ribbons will lead you back through the Veil. After all, we will be on a different plane."
Hermione considered the fact that her ribbon to Tom Riddle in this time and place appeared cut, and considered the point valid. "That is a very good point."
"Do you have any ideas about how you could work around it?"
Hermione shook her head as an old, but familiar wave of grim determination swept her tired body. "No, but I have an idea about where we could go to find out."
"The library?" Luna guessed with a small smirk and half an eyebrow raised.
"The library," Hermione repeated with a stubborn tilt of her chin.
Hermione was panting and clutching her chest by the time she made it to the library doors. She had forgotten how much energy was required to walk up all of those stairs.
She knew the library was only open for another two hours, but she was anxious to get started while she was still feeling motivated. Something that failed to happen as often as it once did, unfortunately.
And it was oddly comforting, to fall back on a role that had taken up so much of her time at Hogwarts. Frantic research on a variety of subjects, in the midst of exams, in order to avoid situations of mortal peril...
She gave Madam Pince a nod of acknowledgement as she pushed her way inside, and soon had a rising stack of texts perched on the edge of a nearby table. The titles included Beyond the Veil, Credible Attempts to Cheat Death, An Encyclopedia of Magical Artifacts Throughout History, At Death's Door, The Fractured Soul, and A Detailed Enquiry into Magical Bonds. From the restricted section, which she entered without even bothering to look at Madam Pince for approval, was Mafteah Shelomoh, The Basic Manuel for the Enterprising Necromancer, Au Bord de la Mort, Spiritus Pascens, Binding Rituals, Raising the Dead, and a small, nondescript text simply titled Limbo.
She also grabbed an extremely old copy of Lapidario, as she was currently considering the magical applications of different stones in order to store magic, and Of the Supreme Mysteries of Nature, a grimoire by Paracelsus, a Swiss magician from the sixteenth century who laid the foundation of properly identifying and distinguishing light and dark magic.
She found a narrow table in the back, behind the archives, and took a few sheets of parchment, an ink well, and a quill out her bag. She had only just started, skimming through the texts in an initial assessment to determine which would best suit her purposes and how she would organize her notes, when she heard footsteps behind her.
She didn't bother to turn around as two boys sat down on either side of her.
"A bit of recreational reading, Granger?" Malfoy drawled, and turning towards him she could see he was looking at the titles of her gathered books with obvious interest.
She heard a scoff on the other side of her. Nott's right eyebrow raised as he addressed Malfoy. "Could this really be considered recreational?" he stated sardonically, picking up The Basic Manuel for the Enterprising Necromancer. He looked towards Hermione. "Do you raise the dead as a pastime?"
Hermione scowled, and snatched the book out of his hands. "It's none of your business."
"Of course not," Nott retorted sarcastically, and a few moments of awkward silence passed as the boys considered the rest of her books with growing frowns.
Then almost abruptly, Malfoy nimbly reached over to pluck up her quill. Once he had her full attention, and ignoring the obvious aggravation on her face, he stated with forced nonchalance, "Did you know that I was scheduled to be Kissed?"
Hermione started back in surprise. What? Draco Malfoy may have been an arrogant, peevish prat, but being threatened and coerced into participating in Voldemort's schemes was hardly worth the obliteration of his soul. She wasn't thrilled about his actions during their sixth year, but she could understand that he was under a lot of duress, that he never actually killed anyone, and that he was remorseful for his actions. Her face twisted in outrage. "Bullocks," she muttered in disbelief.
Malfoy seemed appreciative of her indignation on his behalf. "Well, with Professor Snape and all of the other more sensational Death Eaters dead or on the run, the Ministry was running out of guilty parties to blame that would appease the public. They apparently wanted a hand in enforcing the justice."
She supposed that made sense on a strategic level; the Ministry would need an eye-catching demonstration of power disguised as justice to legitimize their control and distance themselves politically from Riddle's regime, in an effort to invalidate their recent history of instability and rampant corruption. And she knew they were making an effort to address the abundant leniencies that had been characteristic of trials during the first Wizarding War (Sirius Black aside).
Still. That Kingsley would allow such a thing.
The blonde wizard continued to speak in an overtly flippant manner that was belied by his overly tense knuckles. "I understand you worked with my lawyer in creating my defense?"
Hermione nodded, her brow furrowed. Well, sort of. She hardly took the reins. She just met with the mulish, but clever auburn man in order to plan her statements and delivery. Although she might have given him a text of obscure laws pertaining to purebloods, and had bookmarked all of the pertinent bits… although that much assistance was considered the bare minimum for her.
"And you encouraged Potter to speak up for me at the stand?"
Hermione frowned, before nodding again, reluctantly. It was true that she organized Harry's statements, but it wasn't as if she had to convince him. Harry was grateful for the assistance he received from the Malfoy's towards the end, however small. And in his relief at being alive, was more than willing to let bygones be bygones in many cases.
"According to my lawyer, it was only through your interference that I was saved. And the presence of war heroes speaking in my defense-," Malfoy said the words war heroes as if tasting something foul, "-swayed the opinion of the public so I am no longer being harassed."
Her hands tightened against the wood of the table, her frown deepening. Where was he going with this? "Well, I am glad you were able to get off. You didn't deserve the Kiss."
Malfoy's eyes flickered in response to that statement. "Regardless, there have been unanticipated consequences."
A now (unfortunately) familiar sense of dread settled in her stomach, creating knots. "Oh?" she asked, but it sounded as little more than an exclamation of air.
Malfoy nodded a few times, somber in his demeanor. "I now owe you a life-debt."
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "What?"
Malfoy scrutinized her bewilderment calculatingly, as if attempting to assess her sincerity. "You do understand what that means, right?"
Hermione bobbed her head weakly in assent. "We are bonded. You receive a strong magical compulsion to settle the debt, and experience discomfort if I am in any kind of condition that would disallow the obligation from taking place." She looked down at her thin, twitching fingers and considered the affect that the current condition of her soul had on him. She doubted that the feeling was pleasant.
Malfoy's tone darkened. "That's right. Then perhaps you could explain to me why I have been in a near constant state of pain since being released?"
Not pleasant at all, apparently. But Hermione was at a loss for what to say.
"I originally thought it had something to do with exposure to dark magic during the Final Battle," he continued in the wake of her silence. "That I was suffering from some stray curse. I went to Madame Pomfrey to conduct an evaluation. It revealed nothing. And it was only after a fucking inquisition that I was able to figure out that it could be a side-effect to the life-debt."
Hermione remained silent.
Malfoy slammed her quill down on the table beside her, his face tense and upset. "So what is it? There is obviously something wrong with you. You walked into Hogwarts a few hours ago looking like Death itself gobbled you up and spat you back out. Your magical presence appears to be practically nonexistent, and your reading selection reeks of some surely reprehensible plot underfoot. Well?"
Hermione heads tilted, her attention caught on one of his observations. "I have a magical presence?"
Malfoy snarled and rolled his eyes in exasperation. Nott spoke up from behind both of them. "As Pure-Bloods we have been raised to be magically aware of the people around us. I am sure you are cognizant that different wizards and witches have more or less raw energy, and that this energy usually increases the older you get, or during the course of certain magical practices. It is that energy which we can sense. Yours likes to settle on her head and in your fingertips."
Hermione could well remember a time when she could feel sparks of magic zip through her curls, or around her fingers, and nodded in understanding. There was another moment of awkward silence, which Malfoy interrupted with impatience.
"You are not answering my question. I feel like I have a right to know," Malfoy insisted, almost pouting. Hermione's lips curled into a scowl at the presumption. It wasn't as if she knew what would happen at his trial. And there were years of animosity and unpleasantness that made her disinclined to be open about her situation. She opened her mouth to tell him off, when she heard another set of foot-steps heading over to them.
All three of them turned to see Luna Lovegood dance towards their table. She plopped herself down in the seat next to Nott's without any ceremony. "Hello Theodore! It is so good to see you again! And Draco!"
Both boys appeared obviously unsettled. Hermione knew that both Slytherins had been required to handle an imprisoned Luna during the war, and it didn't seem as if they had talked since. Her friendly attitude was probably disconcerting. Hermione felt a little vindicated, in light of Malfoy's questioning, and was grateful to Luna for the additional support. "Luna?" she asked, pulling her quill out of Malfoy's reach with a quick glare.
"I came to see how the research was going. I'm not surprised to see Draco, though. I saw his name sticking out of your chest earlier."
Hermione blinked. And then mentally cursed herself for not paying attention and taking the time to read all of the bonds she was responsible for.
Luna continued to speak in dulcet tones, a faint smile on her lips. "Have you told them about the slupnotts?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed, any feelings of gratefulness disappearing. Please Luna, she tried to communicate with the girl silently. I need to figure out how to deal with this by myself before I inform the world.
"Slupnotts?" Nott asked politely, still obviously perturbed with the girl at his left.
"Magical maggots that eat away at the edges of a torn soul," Luna stated, the smile still on her face.
Malfoy had recovered at this point. "Right…" he drawled sarcastically. "Would you like to go somewhere else to talk about this, Granger?" The tone in his voice promised horrible things should said talking not occur.
Luna laughed. "Silly boy, we're talking about it right here."
Malfoy's obvious skepticism was heartening. Perhaps she could still escape none the wiser. She started to stand and opened her mouth, an excuse in waiting, when both boys pulled her back down. Hermione glowered in discontentment.
"But you have told them, right? That Tom Riddle is your soulmate?"
The boys flinched together in repulsed surprise, before analyzing both girls critically. Hermione did her best to pretend the news was nonsense, but could tell from their expressions that she had not done a very good job.
Nott grimaced. "As in the Dark Lord?"
Hermione was reasonably sure it was a rhetorical question, but Luna answered anyway. "Do you know of any other Tom Riddle?"
Nott's gaze turned accusatory as he faced Hermione. "You bonded with the Dark Lord? When? How are you still alive?" His mouth shut abruptly and his eyes widened as if he just realized something, "Is he still alive?" Malfoy said nothing, although it sounded as if he was breathing faster than might be healthy.
Hermione snapped back. "No! I guarantee Riddle is dead. And no, I did not bind myself to a deranged, hypocritical, homicidal coward masquerading as a Dark Lord. The bond was never committed. Professor McGonagall said it was just realized."
Malfoy spoke, his pale face unnaturally wane. "The Headmistress knows?"
Hermione hummed in affirmation around a frown, still feeling irritated. "She cast a spell. Singillatim Vinculum Aperire."
Both boys nodded in understanding and obvious recognition of the spell. "So why are we in pain? That's what I'm feeling, right? Your pain?" Malfoy asked with obvious dread, his fists clenching hard enough that his veins popped out in sharp contrast to otherwise white knuckles.
Hermione could feel his tension and couldn't help but grind her fingers into her chest anxiously in response. "I personally destroyed a piece of his soul."
Both wizards cringed.
"Ah," Malfoy muttered, looking down at his fingers on the table, his face turning ashen.
Nott gestured to the stack of books in front of her. "So what are you going to do about it? I'm almost afraid to ask."
Her silence seemed to confirm something for both of them. Malfoy's face contorted. Nott rose out of his seat in anger.
"You're bringing him back?" Nott's voice was a seething whisper, and he took a quick look around to verify that they were alone before he continued. "Are you insane?"
Luna spoke up defensively, frowning. "She's changing her fate."
"Sure," Nott sneered, condescending. "She'll change lives surely. With death forwarded by a madman."
Hermione ignored them and turned to her right. Malfoy looked up and met her gaze, his face tense. She reached over, picked up the copy of Binding Rituals, and slid it across the table in front of him.
Malfoy looked at the title of the book, and then back up at her face. "You intend to bind him?"
Nott watched the two of them from over Hermione's shoulder. "Oh for the love of Merlin… you're a fool, Granger," he spat out.
Hermione didn't turn around. "What would you do if you were doomed to an eternal, torturous non-existence?"
Malfoy winced. "If I help you out with this our debt will be settled." It was a statement that sounded like a question.
Hermione nodded. "Of course. If I had my way, you never would have been bonded to me in the first place."
Malfoy snorted, muttering with a scowl, "That makes two of us," under his breath. He turned to fully face her. "So what can I do to help?"
Nott shoved himself into Draco's other side to get his attention and glared at his friend, interrupting Hermione's attempt to respond. "You can't be serious."
"This doesn't concern you, Theo." Draco's tone was hard as the two stared each other down.
"The fuck it doesn't. I was branded, just as you were. If he returns, my life will be just as forfeit."
Hermione let out a soft noise in consideration. She had forgotten about the marks. "So we also need to find a way to disrupt his control over your Dark Marks. Assuming he will be able to reconnect the links after he returns."
They both turned towards her with equal looks of consternation. Nott eventually sneered, and stated sarcastically, "You make thwarting the Dark Lord sound so easy, Granger."
She shrugged. It wasn't as if she didn't have experience doing just that.
Malfoy grabbed the attention of his friend. "I can't not help her, Theo. Not without surrendering my life."
Theo's expression softened, lingering for a long moment that was almost painfully personal as he considered the Malfoy heir. "Fine," he reluctantly acquiesced, "But we do this right." Then the Nott heir turned towards Hermione, the tilt of his chin unyielding and his gaze fit to cut glass. "We will ensure that Riddle's return is inconspicuous to the point of being imperceptible. And we allow zero opportunity for him to act out. Agreed?"
Hermione considered the boy curiously, wondering at what point the scrawny, reticent loner developed such a backbone. "Of course."
It was an easy thing to agree to, after all, and truth be told Hermione was relieved to know that she was not alone in ensuring Riddle's resurrection was handled as responsibly as possible.
"Then how can we help?"
Hermione frowned and pulled at her hair, feeling frazzled. "I'm not entirely sure yet, I'm still trying to figure out a feasible plan. I suppose it would be helpful if you could help me review these texts for relevant information? And perhaps we can brainstorm ideas about how to corral Riddle's homicidal impulses."
Malfoy nodded. "I can do that."
Luna stood up abruptly. "Wrackspurts. I need to get going. See you tomorrow Hermione?"
"Of course, Luna."
The Ravenclaw fairly glided away. Nott shook his head. "That one is madder than a bag of ferrets."
Malfoy glared.
"What?" Nott asked, feigning ignorance at the insinuation.
Hermione sighed.
Harry was shattered. He dragged his sore, aching body inside of Grimmauld Place with a groan, stretching his tired muscles. Auror training was demanding, and spending all of his time with an angry, sullen Ron was incredibly draining.
Unfortunately, the fact that Harry was having an easier time on practice raids due to his fast reflexes and better spell-power did not help things in the slightest. He had spent a lot of time with Ron, and was quick to recognize when the red-headed boy was feeling slighted and resentful. Harry had hoped that being with Hermione would give Ron a stronger sense of self, and help him to recognize and take pride in his own strengths. But Hermione and Ron had not lasted more than a couple of months, and Harry had taken the brunt of his friend's depression and insecurity.
Harry had tried his best to cheer Ron up. He had tried to distract him with the occasional Quidditch game, and a night out at the pub on the weekends. He had tried to bolster his friend's self-confidence with frequent chess games and talk of girls at the Ministry that he was sure had given Ron a second look. Harry had hoped that Ron would understand that he was here for him, and would try to commiserate with him instead of taking his anger out on him.
But Harry's success, and his obviously happy relationship with Ginny was making that impossible. A resentful Ron stewed in his grievances. A resentful Ron was unnecessarily difficult and belligerent. A resentful Ron was so wrapped up in self-pity that he didn't realize what a prat he was acting to the people around him.
Harry missed Hermione fiercely. She had always been there for him and looked after his best interests. She was always on his side during times like this. And whenever she was miffed about something and took it out on Harry, she always came to find him hours later to apologize. She had stayed with him no matter the circumstances. Even when she had been starved, and tortured, and so afraid she couldn't stop trembling….
It hurt Harry to think of Hermione. The last time he had seen her she looked as if she were about to fall apart; her eyes large inside a gaunt, pale face, her hair stringy and limp, and whatever weight she had gained since the end of the war lost. He had been disturbed to see her fingers shake almost compulsively, and had quickly made small-talk and hasty promises before leaving abruptly. The guilt was almost too much to handle. He assumed she was still suffering from exposure to the Cruciatus curse, and blamed himself for the misery etched into her forehead.
This situation with Ron was just another complication. Ginny had clearly taken the side of his brother. She could see how enamored he was with the curly-haired witch, and couldn't understand why Hermione didn't reciprocate. She assumed there was someone else, and had audibly considered some of the Slytherins he and Hermione had defended in various trials.
Harry had defended her. He trusted her to have been upfront with Ron if that had been the case. Besides, he had seen the way she looked shortly after her separation with Ron. Hermione didn't seem to be in any condition to pursue scandalous romantic liaisons, much less hide them. And she had not looked happy, none of the blushing cheeks and sparkling eyes that marked the start of a new romance.
But he was under a lot of pressure from both Weasleys, so hadn't sought her out.
He knew she didn't hold anything against him, but that almost made it worse. Still, she certainly deserved some show of support. He knew she was about to take her N.E.W.T. exams, and would probably be in a state of frenzy, not bothering to break for silly things like sleep or food while she was studying… He was worried, but he was afraid to disrupt his relationship with Ginny and Ron. After all, they were his family.
Harry's musings were interrupted by a firm knock on the door. He would be lying if didn't admit that he hoped it wasn't Ron.
He opened the door, and was surprised to see a pale head framed around glittering hoops.
"Luna? I thought you were at Hogwarts?"
Luna pushed herself into the house with little ceremony, and Harry frowned, trying to remember how she knew how to get into his house. During the latter parts of the war she stayed at Shell Cottage- when had she come to Grimmauld Place? Was it during the victory celebration?
The girl made herself at home on his couch in the sitting room, and Harry let out a short bark of laughter at her audacity before settling in opposite of her.
"How are you doing, Luna?" he asked, absentmindedly running his hand messily through his hair.
Luna smiled. "I'm doing just fine. School this year continues to be very interesting."
Harry nodded. "Well, that's good. Why did you come to visit?" He stopped, then quickly added, "Not that I'm not happy you are here and all…"
Luna's smile widened at his discomfort. "I'm here to talk about Hermione."
Harry grimaced. He should have guessed. They had been together the last time he saw the girl. "What about Hermione?"
"She needs you, Harry."
Harry clenched his fists, trying to fight off the painfully familiar feeling of dread. "It can't be that bad," he insisted. But the worry and concern rushed through his chest unbidden. How bad was it? Had she worked herself into a state? Was Luna here because Hermione was in the Hospital Wing?
Luna stared straight into his eyes, and Harry was taken aback, trying to remember the last time she had seemed so… down to earth. "She's dying."
Harry sucked in a harsh breath in surprise. What? Dying? He frowned in disbelief. If that was the case, he would have heard something about it, surely?
Although he had purposely not sought her out- what if she thought he was no longer interested in her life? His brow wrinkled in frustration. They were supposed to be past this. The war was over! They had survived, right? And he had lost so many people. Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Fred, even Snape… he couldn't lose Hermione, he couldn't. Not her. He croaked out words, "Why? How?"
Luna looked sympathetic at his distress. "Her soulmate was killed during the Final Battle. Her soul is tearing itself apart."
Harry could feel angry, frustrated tears pool up in the corner of his eyes that he swiped away with the palm of his hand in impatience. He was so tired. "Who? Fred?" He tried to remember all of the people who had died, and which of them he could imagine with Hermione. The list was not very long.
Luna was somber. "It was Riddle, Harry."
Harry scowled in disbelief, shaking his head. "Riddle, as in Tom Riddle? As in Lord Voldemort? There is no way that… thing could be Hermione's soulmate," he spat out with vehemence. He was so sick of that piece of shite being a part of his life. He was so ready for his influence to be over, but this? What kind of sick joke was this? That Hermione would be forced to actively kill her soulmate?
Although she wasn't forced, a dark whisper reminded him from the back of his mind, was she? She was only involved in the war because of you. She would never had come face to face with that megalomaniac otherwise.
Harry's face twisted in guilt. This was all his fault, wasn't it? She was suffering, she was dying, because of him. It was Sirius all over again. He must not be meant to have friends or any close relationships. Otherwise why would this keep happening to him?
"Harry." Luna's voice was soft, and he realized, right next to head.
"Harry," she repeated again once she had his attention, "this is not your fault. This is nobody's fault. And Hermione has a plan. But she needs your help. She needs your support. You are her best friend."
Harry took a deep breath at that. He knew that, of course he knew. She was his best friend too. He loved her like a sister, and wanted more than anything for her to be happy and healthy. His eyes met Luna's, the gaze behind his glasses serious. "She is really dying?"
Luna nodded.
"Well, I need to see her then," Harry got up out of the couch and made his way to the door. Luna stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Harry, you are barely standing. How are you going to apparate? And I didn't see any Thestrals outside, so…" Luna stated, pulling at his shoulder so he would turn around. "I suggest you get a good night's sleep, eat a nice, filling breakfast, and come in the morning."
Harry tried to remember when Luna had ever man-handled him, and looked at Luna in confusion. She was behaving remarkably forward, wasn't she?
"Tomorrow morning?" Luna repeated around a smirk.
Harry nodded. "I suppose you are right. Will she be alright?" He frowned again in worry. He wondered how she was dealing with all of this. After all, he wasn't the one who found out he was soulbound to a Dark Lord.
"It will be fine. Although you should think about what we are going to do about Ginny. I love her, but she is not going to take this well." Harry nodded. Not only did this somewhat prove her speculations (only somewhat, mind), but she had always been touchy about Riddle since the Diary Incident.
"I will try to think of something," Harry promised.
As Luna made her way out of the house, Harry sank into the couch in an exhausted heap. He wanted so desperately to relax… When would this part of his life finally be over?