"Dying is a Delicate Moment"
A fanfic by Agara
"Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me."
And he kills her.
Thougts are written in Italics
Big line : New POV
"OoOoOo" : Same POV / Time lapse
CHAPTER TWO : WELCOME HOME
Song : Welcome Home by Radical Face
16.07.1942 :
He never really liked reading The Daily Prophet. He did it because he had to, but never enjoyed it. Today was no exception. With one elbow on the window, he was staring at the paper in front of him.
"Still quiet ?"
It's been more than two months since the attack on the BeauxBatons Academy, yet still not a word from the only survivor : Grace Icaria Hortense.
As we visited her home in France, we saw the proof of her existence surrounded by love and friendship. Pictures of her and her parents. Her wild chestnut hair, her dark brown eyes and a grin plastered on her face. Following the steps of her parents, Grace excelled at the Academy in particular at Potions, she was late professor Antoinette Lebon's favorite. But also at Transfiguration as she was the Vice-President of the prestigious "Association de Métamorphose" (Transfiguration Club).
How come the talented witch had not said a word yet ?
To read the full article, turn to page 23.
He did not need to read more. He carefully folded the newspaper and put it in the first drawer of his desk on top of others, all displaying Grace's face on the cover.
She was everywhere, he thought.
It has been months, how come the newspapers are still talking about her ? She did nothing out of the extraordinary. There is no glory in surviving.
How come she is the only survivor ? How come she survived at all ? I have heard things about what happened at the Academy. It is merely impossible a 4th year would have escaped.
The level of dark magic detected was above everything Aurors had seen before.
She had scars, she was covered in blood. She must have fought. She does not have the capacities to duel with experimented dark wizards. Getting good grades in potions and transfiguration does not help in a real war. It merely helps at all.
He exhaled loudly. The more he thought about the situation, the more laughable it became. There was no way she could have survived all by herself. He saw her, he saw how fragile she seemed. Something was not right, he felt it. He looked outside the window and stared at the boys playing in the playground.
"Pathetic" he judged.
She knew Malfoy though. He told me he did not know how she knew him. He is not smart enough to lie properly, so I believe him on this one. She asked him why he was not fighting. Is there a Malfoy at the Beauxbatons Academy ? Probably knowing this family, but even if there was one in France, he would not have fought, cowardice runs in their veins.
OoOoOo
24.07.1942 :
Summer 1942 in London was suffocating. Whether it was sunny or cloudy, the heat was dreadful. Wool Orphanage was no exception. Mrs. Cole was urging the boys to stay in the shade and hydrated. Tom was sat under a willow, staring at the boys playing football near the pond. He heard the stern voice of the director calling him "Riddle ! Special mail for you !". He rose up and walked towards her. She handed him a beige envelope.
From the moment she said the word "special" he knew it was from Hogwarts. She always had undermined the school, from the moment Dumbledore had walked through her walls.
Tom could not care less about what she thought.
As he took what was his, he heard the other orphanage residents laughing at him. He opened the letter and skimmed through the content. 5th Year Prefect was written at the bottom of it. He rose an eyebrow and smiled lightly, unimpressed.
Mrs. Cole called all the boys to dinner.
"Oh you've received special mail from your special school because you are so special Tom". He heard a boy named Grant say behind him.
Tom's blood boiled in his veins. He slowed down to walk at the same pace as Grant. While everyone turned left heading toward the dining hall, Tom shoved Grant to the right, in an empty room.
"What the…"
Tom slammed the door and moved forward him, an evil grin plastered on his angelic face.
11.08.1942 :
"Grace broke her left wrist on the 3rd of February when she was eight". Hermione whispered, while being sat at the counter of the Leaky Cauldron.
She looked down at her flashcards and sighed angrily.
"Shoot ! No… Merde !"
She dropped, exasperated, the cards she was holding on the table. On one of them was written, in her perfect calligraphy : Broke her left ankle on the 03.02 (8y/o)
Seriously, is someone really going to ask you if you broke your bloody left ankle ?
She had been working on her background story for months. After that night, she knew she would have to handle more. She went to the Hortense's house, she erased every memory of Grace, every pictures of her, every proof of her existence.
A simple spell, thankfully created in the 60's, had allowed her to replace Grace's face by her own in every frame. She took the time to search for all necessary documents she may need : medical records, correspondences, bank statements, Hortense's family books, photo albums and other belongings.
"Miss Hortense ? Have you taken your medicine tonight?"
Hermione was startled and rose her head, almost ready to take out her wand. As soon as she saw Tom's face, the Leaky Cauldron's bartender, she eased up a little.
"Tom, how many times have I told you to call me Grace ?" She answered with a light smile on her face, while scanning the room.
It had been hard at first to use the name Grace, but it became simpler over time. Still did not felt right tough.
She covered the flashcard with her left arm. Tom's gaze flew over her scar.
It was not only the "mudblood" scar he was looking at, but also the deep scratches on it. At first, Hermione had not wanted to cover her scar with magic. She just wanted it gone. So, she had tried to erase it by herself. Muggle way. Nails and blood.
The first month she bled. Her nails dug so deep in her skin that the floor beneath her turned red. But she realised it did not erased the word, so she hid it. Underneath long sleeves. In June, she used magic, she thought it could disappear with a flick of a wand. It did. For a day. Then she had to cast it again.
So, the third month, she stopped trying. She left it there. And every time she looked at it, she saw her face. But, at least, it reminded her of her future, her fight, her goal.
"I'm fine Tom. You don't need to worry about me."
You'll worry enough in the future.
The French Ministry had suggested her to stay in the country and to pay for any expenses. Hermione kindly refused as she needed to stay in England to execute The Plan.
"I will always worry about you Grace" He smiled kindly at her. "By the way, you've received mail".
He reached for the letter behind the bar and handed it to her. As soon as she saw the beige envelope and the red seal, a warm feeling spread through her body. She opened it. The excitement, the one she felt when she was eleven years old while opening the same envelope, rose in her chest.
She knew it was going to be different, harder, but knowing she would be back at Hogwarts, even for a short while, comforted her.
If she followed The Plan.
It would be okay.
She was not expecting more than the formal letter of admission, but found a second one. She recognised Professor Slughorn's handwriting. She chuckled.
Seems like Step 1 will be easier than expected.
OoOoOo
15.08.1942 :
"Excusez-moi ! Hm..Sorry. Do you still have Hogwarts' fifth year potions book ?" Hermione asked the bookstore clerk at Flourish & Blotts.
"Name of the book" He answered rudely.
She opened her bag to reach for the letter.
You should really organise this mess, Hermione.
"Well ?" He asked impatiently
"OWLS Level Potions Making by Billius Asphat" a male's voice answered for her.
She turned around. Was standing in front of her, a 15 years old boy. His olive skin matched perfectly his green eyes. His brown hair was a little dishevelled.
"Thanks" She said.
"You must be Grace" He answered.
Ok Hermione, it's time. You've learned your story, you know everything you need to know about Grace. He is not going to ask questions about your supposedly broken ankle. And even if he does, you know the right answer now, right ? Left ankle, left ankle, left ankle. Ok, you've got it. Everything is going to be fine.
"Still quiet ?"
Left ankle, left ankle, left ankle
"Sorry, I tried to be funny." He rambled. "You know the article…"
"Left ankle" She answered.
"What ?" He smiled
Good Job Hermione. You really killed it.
"What?" She parroted.
"Let's start over." He chuckled. "I am Thorus…"
Nott ?
"Nott" He added. "I'm hurt you did not recognise me as you did Abraxas".
Hermione mouth opened slightly, agape.
"Too soon ?"
Theodore's father ? Grandfather ? No, father.
Hermione knew for sure that the Notts were to become one of the most important Death Eater family in the years to come. From the moment she got her acceptance letter, she was aware she would have to interact with soon-to-be Death Eaters. Still, she was not pleased by that. But the young boy in front of her made her feel oddly at ease.
"...trauma ?"
"Comment ?" She finally said.
Pay attention Hermione !
"Oh ! You speak only French. Well that explains a lot…" He spoke quietly to himself.
He exhaled and kept going :
"Je s'appelle Thorus Nott, ma français pas être good"
"Aren't all purebloods supposed to be fluent in French ?" She said.
"So you do speak english !"
A smile spread on his face. There was no doubt he was Theo's father. They had the same smile, a genuine one. Hermione started remembering the Slytherin. They had never been friends, but Theo was bearable, compared to whole lot he hung out with.
They had Arithmancy together since third year. He was smart, brilliant even. Sharing a classroom with Slytherin was always difficult, but Theo never spoke badly of her, at least not when she was here.
Thorus smile did not disappear.
"So it is because of the trauma you weren't speaking"
She did not answered. She looked at him strangely.
"Too soon." He finished, nodding his head a little.
The shop assistant reappeared and gave Hermione the book she was looking for. She opened her mouth to ask for another one, but he turned his back at her and walked away. She heard Thorus laughing quietly.
"Seems like you are missing the Transfiguration Book". Thorus said.
"How do you know ?" She snapped "Have you been following me?"
He laughed hard.
Theo definitely got his attitude from his father.
It warmed her heart to find something from her future in the past.
"Come on Grace, you have the books for the entire curriculum in your arms. Anyone with eyes, a functioning brain and deductive skills could have noticed you are missing one".
Hermione, it is not war anymore. Or not yet. Snap out of it.
He reached for the book from the shelf behind her.
"So you are going to Hogwarts."
"Use your deductive skills, Sherlock" She answered.
"Sherlock ?" He seemed lost.
"It is a literary reference. You know books. Paper, Ink…" She said ironically.
She fake smiled at him and walked toward the checkout. She put down her books and looked in her purse for money.
"2 galleons and 5 sickles". He said dryly, without even look at her.
Quite cheap comparing to the nineties. If only you could be Hermione for just a second. The librarian deserves to be reminded of the "3P" : Punctuality, Patience and Politeness.
As she handed the money, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Thorus behind her.
"So, you are following me!" She said as she turned around to face him.
He only smiled. He put the book he had in his hand on top of her pile.
"This one is on me". He said to the cashier.
He put 2 galleons on the counter.
"Keep the change". He added.
He took the entire pile of books and headed toward the exit. Hermione followed him rapidly.
"I can carry my own books !" She told him once they were in Diagon Alley.
"A gentleman never lets a young woman carry heavy books."
She huffed.
"Where to next ?" He said looking right at her.
"I need a wand".
He stopped walking and observed her silhouette. She was wearing a white blouse, tucked into a thick smooth dragon leather navy blue pant. Her wild hair was mostly hidden underneath a light gray felt capeline hat. She had a firm grip on a small purse which was over her shoulder. A black curved wand was tucked into her holster on her left forearm. He looked confused at the wand.
"Another wand" she added rashly.
He nodded and they resumed walking. He told her she needed to go to Ollivander.
As she walked, she looked around her while playing with her ring. Diagon Alley was the same as she remembered before her sixth year. Florean Fortescue was here. His shop was open, and people were chatting while being sat on his terrace. As she looked at the store, she remembered the ashes, the dark mark and the loss of her innocence.
The last time she had been there, she had felt sick. Everything had been grey, sad, and lifeless. The few ones, brave enough to get out, had been walking fast, eager to get home.
It was probably the first time since she arrived in 1942 that she was happy to get somewhere. She knew she could get an ice cream, get a part of her childhood back.
Thorus glanced at her and realised she went through hell and back. He knew, from the way she was analysing every movement, every sound, from the way she walked, on the ball of her feet, he knew she would never feel safe.
They arrived in front of the shop.
"Thank you. I can handle it from here". She said while taking her books back.
"Fancy a bite after your purchase ?" He asked.
"I am not really hungry".
He looked at her, top to bottom.
"Even if you are not hungry, you should probably eat something." He told her amused.
"And you call yourself a gentleman." She scoffed.
She entered the shop and briefly looked back. He was gone.
Step 2 : In process
28.08.1942 :
Someone bumped into him. He heard the sound of books hitting the ground. He saw a young wizard, about 11 years old, crouching down to gather his belongings. Tom would have not helped him if it was not for his image. He grabbed two books, and handed them over to the boy.
"I am so so sorry". The young boy stuttered.
You better be.
"Don't worry about it. It happens. But be careful next time. You might bump into the wrong person." Tom replied, a fake smile on his face.
"Oh, you're a student at Hogwarts ?"
The boy was admiring the green prefect badge Tom was wearing on his pristine shirt.
"You're in Slytherin. I hope I will be sorted in it". He continued wishfully.
"Everything is possible if you really want it".
You are so going to be a Hufflepuff.
Tom took off before the kid could even mutter another word. He headed toward the apothecary to get his potion supplies. He stopped in front of the shop.
Do I really need ingredients ? No.
Slughorn is going to give me everything I need. It is too easy to fool a naive professor just by playing the orphan card.
An old witch opened the door to the tearoom next door to get out. A recognisable giggle escaped from it. Tom turned his head and saw through the window his potion professor laughing like a schoolgirl. He got closer to discern who he was laughing with. After seeing her on the covers of every newspapers this past few months, he automatically recognised her.
What.. ?
Slughorn was laughing so hard, it made the table move from his huge belly. The porcelain sugar bowl began falling, but the waitress quickly reacted and stopped it using magic. She threw him a knowing glance and he winked at her. Tom's gaze fell on her.
Bloody Hortense. What is she doing with him ? Do they know each other ? It looks like it. Does it mean she is going to Hogwarts ? Does it mean she will be a fifth year ? Why have I not thought about it before ? In which house will she be sorted into ?
The time, on the clock in the tearoom, brought him back from his thoughts. He was late. The orphanage's curfew forced him to go back.
28.08.1942 :
"Of course, I would love to take you as my apprentice". He said between two sips. "Could you remind me the grade you've gotten at your OWLS potions? Oh no, you've gotten an Outstanding right ? Of course you did. And you have taken it a year early ! It is impressive. Aren't you the one who taught the examiner a new use for Asphodel ? Marvelous ! I would have loved being there…"
Does he ever shut up ?
"...Would you like to?"
Hermione felt his gaze on her. She rose her head and stopped playing with her ring.
What ? You should really start listening to what people are saying Hermione.
"Of course, I would love to". She answered quickly.
What the fuck did you just agreed to ?
He smiled and looked at the clock behind him.
"Oh sorry dear ! I did not realise it was so late. As they say, time flies when you're in good company !" He winked. "I have an appointment with the Head of Law and Enforcement. Did you know he cheated on his wife ? You didn't learn it from me."
He winked. Again.
Still a gossip I see.
They rose from their seats and headed out. As she closed the door behind her, she heard the loud voice of Slughorn. "Milton, how are you doing my boy ? Have you put on some weight ? Is Tom with you ? It is such a beautiful day to be shopping !"
"No sir, he had to head back..."
Hermione turned around and saw seven figures. One of them, was stepping forward while talking to Slughorn. He had long black curly hair covering his eyes.
"How tragic !" Slughorn cut him.
The six boys snickered behind Milton. The latter turned around and muttered "I did not gain weight, it's muscle. I've told you already !"
"You wish". One of them replied laughing.
Hermione recognised the blond - almost white - hair and the pointy chin.
"Grace, my dear, let me introduce you. Those are the finest boys in my house. Oh, didn't I tell you ? I am the head of Slytherin !" Slughorn told her.
Only about a million times.
She stepped forward and saw Thorus.
"Hello again Miss Hortense" Thorus said while bowing.
"You already know each other ?" Slughorn smiled. "How marvelous !"
"We met briefly a couple of days ago" He answered.
"He has already met her ?" Milton asked quietly.
"Let be briefly introduce you." Slughorn told Hermione. "Apparently, you already know Thorus, really good at transfiguration that boy. This is Abraxas, you know the Malfoy family, don't you ? They have a lot of relatives in France. How tragic what happened there."
He sent her an honest apologising look.
"Here are Edmund Rosier and Edgard Lestrange" He continued. "Both on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Thanks to them, we've won again this year. Isodor Avery, oh come on Avery, don't be shy, he is really good at Arithmancy. Maybe you know Antonin Dolohov, he has family in France, he is really creative with spells..."
Oh don't you know Hermione. You have a proof of his creativity all over your chest. Nice to see you again. Looking forward to knowing you better Antonin.
"... And this is Milton".
She got closer confidently, a smile plastered on her face.
It's time Hermione. Step 2 : Done.
"Grace Hortense, enchantée"
OoOoOo
01.09.1942 :
Hermione was playing with her wand nervously. The light acacia wood, stranded with thin golden brown filaments, was spinning in her hand. She remembered clearly her visit at Ollivander :
"How peculiar ! Fifteen and a half inches, acacia wood, rigid and phoenix core. Interesting combination." She recalled him saying.
The last first year sat down at the Hufflepuff table.
She turned her head towards it, expecting to see Hannah Abbott's almost red hair.
"Grace Hortense" She heard Dumbledore say.
She approached slowly. Every step she took reminded her of the time she had spent walking in the great hall. She could hear, in her head, the voice of Ron whining about Malfoy. She could feel Harry's arm on her shoulder. She could see Ginny's bright hair sitting at the Gryffindor table. She stopped thinking because she knew it would break her even more.
She sat on the stool. A young Albus Dumbledore put the Sorting Hat on her head.
"What do you want me to call you ? Grace or Hermione ?"
She gasped. She then noticed the entire room staring at her.
"Ombrelune or Gryffindor ? You don't need to answer. I know who you truly are."
Hermione was repeating the house she wanted in her head.
"Why so eager ? There never was another possibility."
01.09.1942 :
"Slytherin !"
The entire table applauded.
Of course she is in Slytherin.
Tom looked around him and saw his entire house clapping eagerly. The girls from fifth year were already scooching over to save Grace a sit. She was walking towards the table, full of confidence and a smug smile smeared on her face. Instead of sitting next to the girls, she got closer to him. She stayed still in front of the boys for a couple of seconds, while they moved to let her sit. She settled next to Milton who was across from Tom.
"Told you, you'd be sorted into Slytherin Gracie" Mitlon smiled at her.
Gracie ?
"Fuck me" Isodor said to himself loudly.
"Hand over the money Avery. I'm so getting this new broom." Edmund Rosier chuckled.
Isodor rose from his seat and gave Rosier 10 galleons.
What is happening ?
"So you really had the guts to get into the snake pit". Abraxas spat at Grace.
"No shit Sherlock". Thorus, sitting next to Tom and in front of Grace, smirked.
He knows Sherlock ? Since when does he know muggle literature ?
"So you've read it" Grace replied impressed.
"You know, books, paper, ink…"
Tom turned to face Thorus and clearly saw him winking at her.
What the bloody hell is happening here ?
The food appeared on the table and people started helping themselves. Mulciber was gathering a large amount of mashed potatoes on his plate.
"Be careful Milton, or Slughorn will call you fat again". Abraxas laughed.
"Come on Malfoy, you know it isn't fat, but only muscles. He has already told us." Grace replied amused.
Us ?!
The boys started talking to one another and joking with Grace altogether.
What do they think they are doing ?
"I do not think we have met before". Tom said slowly and distinctly.
A heavy silence settled upon the fifth years.
01.09.1942 :
Game on Riddle.
Author's note : Hi everyone, this is chapter two of DDM. It is about to get angsty guys ! Btw, you're in for the long run !
As Numerobis once said : "C'est du bon palais, bien sûr il faut imaginer. »