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Her fugue, His Lie, and Their Story
Chapter 9: Monsieur Chevalier
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry shot up against the crystal blue sky like a rolling thundercloud, looking sorely misplaced and wholly aggrieved. It seemed to quake with the swirling October breeze, wailing mournfully as it creaked back and forth. Hermione lingered under the thing's massive shadow, wondering how she could have possibly ever been happy here- how anyone could have for that matter. It did not seem possible, not with the wind moaning so willfully at her through those gruesome holes in the walls.
But that was a question she was likely never to know the answer to, and she knew it well. If there was one thing she had learned from her whole experience it was that losing all memories was like a death in itself, because memories were the whole purpose of life in the first place.
No, now Hogwarts was simply an eerie shell of a thing to her, perhaps even a ghost. Poppy must have thought bringing her there would have given her memory something to claw back, but it hadn't, mostly it just frightened her.
With a gulp, she stumbled out from under its shadow and back to the center of the entrance courtyard where a small crowd stood- the staff Hogwarts had left, a tall man made fully of angles and the Minister For Magic. Severus was watching- he stood at a safe distance away from the group, a new shade of white, all the muscles in his neck quivering. Hermione grimaced when she saw him, inching a little closer to Poppy. It never failed to shock her how out of place he looked in the daylight, but just then it was especially jarring.
"This is Mister Chevalier, everybody." Kingsley Shacklebolt's booming voice suddenly drew her attention away. He had tilted his head towards the tall man made of angles, "He is one of the most accomplished architects of this day and age, so keeping this in mind, I have commissioned him to erect one of his creations here, in the very center of these grounds, to commemorate those who gave their lives for our cause."
Mister Chevalier bowed lowly, "Zank you, Monsieur." he said in what quite easily could have been a phony French accent and proceed to lapse into a meandering monologue about his muse, and loss, and grief which left everybody shivering slightly and wishing they were anywhere else in the world but there, "-and wizout further ado," he said finally, "I present 'Les voces de la flamme éternelle'- Ze Voices of Za Eternal Flame."
The ground below them began to shake and crumble down into the cracks that were forming. Everyone, save Severus, took a collective step backward, watching intensely as a large marble fountain ground its way up from the depths of the earth. As it happened, it wasn't much of a fountain at all. There was a roaring violet-orange flame that took the place of water which circled each tear in an upward fashion. The flame seemed to be whispering. What it was saying, Hermione did not know, but it appeared everyone else did. They were all staring, leaning in, completely mesmerized- almost looking as if their brains had spontaneously short-circuited.
"Ze dead whisper zeir own names in zeir own voices- it completely surrounds you. It will burn for az long az anyone remembers zeir names."
As a wave of realization washed over her, Hermione noticed Snape flinch out of the corner of her eye, and tear down an adjoining pathway. Her heart rate spiked so violently that she stumbled backward. For a brief moment she considered the fact that she may be having a heart attack, but then, with a sour taste in her mouth, she remembered that she was always just as painfully aware of what Severus Snape was feeling as he seemed to be about what she was.
Poppy took her by the arm. Hermione had never dreamed of seeing her cry but just then she had tears in her eyes. "What is it, dear?"
"N-nothing." She stuttered, pulling her arm away from the woman's study grip and giving her one of those undemonstrative shrugs, "I just need to walk."
Hermione stalked off in the opposite direction that Snape had, not necessarily because wanted to avoid him but to escape any allegations that may be caught in Poppy's eagle-like, web of a gaze. She had nothing to hide, of course, but something told her it was in the best interest of them all if she kept to herself, especially now that she and Snape had forged somewhat of a friendship- if one could call it that.
She found such a thing equally, if not more, as strange as it was comforting so she walked away, losing herself in the loveliness of the grounds, for beauty was much better when it had been taken ruthlessly.
Hermione's footsteps slowed as she suddenly found herself approaching a great sweeping lake. She didn't know why she'd walked down there, or how she had even managed to find it. Half an hour before she had felt as if she had never seen the castle in her life and now she was walking its grounds as if she knew them like the back of her hand. Then she saw it, the reason why she was there, and she fought the urge to let out one great, big cynical laugh.
Snape was sitting on a stone bench looking out onto the lake, twitching sporadically, although seemingly regaining control. There was a faint glow of sunlight bouncing off the water; the only sound an occasional animal lapping around.
"I just need one moment's peace, Granger!" Snape barked without turning to face her, "Can you not give me that?"
"No," Hermione replied quietly, her awe that he had even known she was there directed more towards herself than him,"You knew I was coming, didn't you?"
Severus could not see the point in nodding. He had just as well told her that he did- not in those exact words, of course- but he didn't think she was such an idiot, or at least he used not to.
He turned to face her. It seemed as though she was expecting an answer. She was staring at him so intensely that he thought he could hear the gears grinding in her head, and such a look of calculation did not become her.
"Well, you knew I was here."
"I did not!"
"Yes, Granger, you did." He scowled, vaguely aware that he sounded like a child arguing over a game of chess,"You went the very opposite direction. If you hadn't known where you going you would have landed yourself at the greenhouses directly on the other side of the castle."
"How did you know that?" Hermione's voice cracked as it rose two octaves, "That I took another path?"
His eyes rolled, suppressing the urge to ring his ears, "The same way you knew where the Great Lake was. It's not that complicated to understand."
"It seems rather complicated to me."
"I don't think so." He replied curtly, "You know what else I think? I think you've known for quite some time-"
"-well if you're so sure why don't you tell me what's happening here?"
"I am not 'so' sure, Granger." Severus said slowly, drawing out every syllable in a condescending manner, slightly vexed and slightly amused, "I understand what's happening, I know we are connected, I just don't exactly know why."
"You're lying."
"Oh, it would be much simpler if I was."
It might have been, at least behind every lie there was some sort of truth. Hermione huffed and fell onto the bench beside him. He teetered uncomfortably.
"We should tell Poppy." said Hermione reasonably, "She always knows what to do. She could fix us."
"Are you out of your mind?" He sneered, "Do you realize how outrageous we sound? She'll have you institutionalized if she thinks for one second you actually mean what you say. Things like this don't happen. Not even in the Wizarding World."
"She would not!" Hermione exclaimed, then she sighed and bit her lip, "But it does sound mad."
"Finally a sensible thought." Severus breathed out steadily. "I promise you I'll find a way to sever the connection, I just need some time."
Hermione nodded, eyes falling back to the lake. She felt almost peaceful for the first time since she could remember.
"It's hard to feel what you feel." She said at length, breaking the silence, "I think it's getting stronger by the minute. Just today, when you heard those voice, I knew exactly what you what you were feeling. It nearly made me sick."
Severus felt a knot of anxiety tie itself around his throat. He knew he would need to work quickly to if he was going to shield her from the truth. She was intelligent even if she didn't know it, and this attachment was stronger than he had originally thought, "What was it?"
"Misery- because you survived- because you always survive, and they didn't."
A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm sorry it's been so long- muse is suffering. I would really love if you dropped me a review or message, it honestly motivates me to keep going with this story! Hopefully, I'll be on more now that school has slowed down and I actually have a little time on my hands. Thanks again, hope you liked it!
