Ok, so there's not really a good excuse for me not putting this chapter up, aside from total laziness I guess. Lets just say I'm trying to enjoy my last summer, huh? Part of the reason I haven't updated in so long is work – part is travel – part is because of a dying computer (which has since been replaced with a shiny new Vaio laptop) – and part of it is because I couldn't think of what in the world could possibly happen in this story.
And you know what? I still don't.
Where is Hermione? Where is she going to go? And just who the hell IS that?
Man, I wish I knew the answers to those questions.
In any event, to be honest, I didn't TOTALLY slack the last two months. If you like Labyrinth, I wrote a very short story (just two chapters) called Memiors of Loss, and review if you read, please. Of course, there's also a relatively new Peter Pettigrew story, Turning, which I have no idea if anyone likes, except for one person ;)
As always, I will eternally love you if you review. And more importantly – please enjoy.
Awake, Lady
Chapter Eight: The Shadow of Death
Ron wasn't sure how long she had been gone, exactly. Surely not more than an hour – he had heard her stirring in the room before he had gone to make a sandwich downstairs.
Upon reading her letter, he had shoved it into his pocket and turned immediately to his room, taking the time only to cover himself in a heavy cloak and pull a small, thick, green book from inside his nightstand. He had tucked it into a deep pocket, chocked back a sob, and apparated just outside of the Hogwarts grounds.
He was met at the high iron gate by Headmaster Dumbledore himself. The old man's face was solemn, and his hug was firm.
"Mr. Weasley, I can only assume you are looking for Ms. Granger."
Ron nodded, his head bowed. After all these years, he was never really surprised that Dumbledore arrived exactly when he was needed the most – it was now absolutely comforting to see him arrive in a time of sorrow or need.
Dumbledore motioned for Ron to follow him, and led him across the grounds, then up to his office. The stone gargoyle jumped quickly out of their way, and Dumbledore moved behind his desk.
The headmaster gazed quietly at Ron for a moment, making the red-headed man slightly uncomfortable. Attempting to stave off the feeling of one being scrutinized, Ron began to move his focus around the room. Fawkes was perched in the corner, and at the moment, he was in his prime. His beautiful scarlet and gold feathers shimmered though there was little light in the room. The great bird's eyes were level with his own, and for some reason, Ron found this comforting. Slowly, in the quiet of the room, Ron felt himself slipping into a calm reverie. Fawke's did not shift his gaze, but tilted his beautiful head and opened his mouth, emitting a slow, mournful, and utterly beautiful song.
"Ronald?" The bird had stopped singing – how long ago had that been? Ron shook his head and looked to the Headmaster, who was smiling slightly.
"Feel better?" he offered Ron a small candy dish filled with small chocolates in the shape of fruits. Ron nodded and took two of the chocolates, a pear and a watermelon.
"Now, onto Miss Granger."
Ron nodded, waiting for the Headmaster to continue. After a moment, the elder man tilted his head inquiringly, and Ron realized that he was waiting for him to speak. Slowly, haltingly, Ron began telling Dumbledore all that had happened in the last few days, being discrete where it was necessary. The older man didn't speak, but nodded often and occasionally nibbled on a chocolate. It became easier to speak as the days flew by in prose, though Ron was near tears when he finished, handing Dumbledore the letter Hermione had left.
Dumbledore gazed at the letter over his half-moon glasses, then nodded and set it on his desk.
"And so, we are at an impasse", he said,
Ron nodded.
The old headmaster and began to circle the room in long, deft strides, despite his age. He made the circuit three times before he stopped, turned, and moved to look down on Ron.
"Why did you come here?" he asked kindly.
Ron was dumbfounded. He though that had been obvious!
"Professor, sir, I just don't know what to do!" Ron's hands were beginning to shake. "I've never been this scared in my entire life." Images flashed in Ron's mind of their final confrontation with Voldemort. "Nearly, at least. Before, I always knew where she was. Now, she could be anywhere. She could be lying in the street dead for all I know!"
The old man nodded. "And do you think she is, Mr. Weasley?"
Ron gazed up at Dumbledore and slowly shook his head. "No… I… she's always been the most careful of us. Even if she isn't feeling right, she can take care of herself."
Dumbledore said nothing, but picked an apple out of the candy dish.
Ron sat. What was Dumbledore waiting for? There was something, he knew, that he was supposed to get, but he couldn't seem to think straight. He gently pulled the letter from the desk, his eyes wandering over it.
Forever is a long time…I'm still dead.
The gears turned in the red-headed man's head. She didn't feel real anymore… she wanted to be with him, but alone too… still dead… dead…
And suddenly, Ron was fairly sure he knew where she was.
Her parents.
She was going home.
--------------------
So here I am, she thought to herself. Never mind that I could have splinched myself apparating without a license.
Oh bully. she thought rebelliously. I've known how to apparate since fourth year, license or no.
She had was at her parent's old office, intending to only go in for a moment. It was now a frame shop, and no part of the old dentist office showed through. She supposed that after they had died, someone had sold off all of the equipment and the building. She didn't really care.
The woman at the counter smiled sweetly at her when she walked in, painfully reminding Hermione that Nina, her parent's old receptionist, had once sat where she was. What happened to Nina? What about Toby? How did he fare when his mother lost her job?
But no, that was many years ago already, wasn't it? Toby was a teenager now, probably with his own job. Maybe Nina had gotten married. Maybe she had even had more children.
Hermione nodded gently at the old proprietor and began to wander around the room. The reception area wall had been knocked down, and now, where her father's office had been were lines of sample frames. In the corner where a large potted plant had once been, a plant her mother had been so painfully proud of, was a table on which sat framed photos of models that no one would ever meet, let alone really have pictures of.
The storekeeper patted her gently on the shoulder. "Are you looking… dear, you look a bit ill. Are you alright?" Hermione swallowed her tears back hard. "Yes" she croaked. "I'm just looking for something." Now she got a better look at the woman, who really wasn't so old – her face was fairly young, but her hair near completely grey and lifeless. The name tag said "Nina". Hermione gasped.
The woman's eyes filled with tears. "You recognize me. I knew it was you!" She gently drew Hermione to herself in a motherly hug, smoothing down her hair. A customer began to open the door, but stopped herself once she saw what was going on inside. Best to leave them to their privacy, she told herself. Looks like they're going through a hard time.
In her old friend's arms, Hermione now saw that not everything was gone. The plant was on the counter, well watered and flourishing still, even after all those years, and Hermione saw that the rolls of children's stickers her parents used to give out after examinations were still intact on the far left wall.
Nina pulled back now. "Where were you? I tried to find you, but after your parents died… The state said you had no family, and that you were left in the care of your school, but they wouldn't tell me what school, or even where. I was so worried… And I'm so glad you're alive, honey. Where have you been?"
And then haltingly, and to her amazement, she told Nina everything. Oh, she thought somewhere in the middle of the story, I'll have to wipe her memory afterwards… she can't know about Hogwarts.
When she finished, tears streaming down her face, Nina gently took her in her arms. "Please do me a favor, Hermione."
The girl nodded gently, wiping her eyes with one sleeve.
"Don't make me forget. I know you can do it – lord knows Toby's threatened enough times."
Hermione looked up sharply. Nina was a muggle… wasn't she?
Nina smiled gently and began to stroke Hermione's hair. "Toby was eight when you disappeared, wasn't he? Three years later, he got an invitation to attend a school called Hogwarts. It never even occurred to me that you would have ever gone there. He's a fifth year now, in Ravenclaw, a prefect, and the house Quidditch keeper. His dad, well, he never told me, and when he found out I was pregnant, he left anyway. So it was a surprise, but… well you know. He always felt different anyway.
Hermione did know.
The older woman gave her another tight hug. "Now, this Ron fellow… Hermione, he loves, you, doesn't he?"
Hermione nodded against Nina's shoulder blade.
"Right." She pulled Hermione out an arms length, hands on her shoulders. "You've heard the term 'It's better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all', I'm sure." Again, a nod. "Well," said Nina, "It's bull." This earned her a wan smile from Hermione. "Really, it is. I was blinded by my love for Marc, and it killed me when he left. I wouldn't give up Toby for the world, but it still hurt. If you loose him, and you're sure now that he's your soul mate, then you'll regret it the rest of your life."
Hermione nodded gently, pulling away from the woman.
"Nina", she said, "I'll come back later, maybe tomorrow or the next day. "I'm going to go some place, and think about what you said." She gave the woman another hug and left the store.
--------------------
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths, god damn it. Ron repeated the mantra in his head over and over. He was in front of her old house, though it was hardly recognizable from the tidy, pleasant domicile it had once been. Lenina's carefully manicured rosebushes were gone, and in their place there was nothing but spiky weeds. The driveway was cracked, the paint had begun to peel on the shutters. A faded "For Sale" sign poked crookedly out of the ground in the small front yard, long grass brushing against the post. The windows were dark, but Ron could imagine what was inside – old furniture, once so meticiuliously cared for, covered with white dust cloths like lumbering ghosts. He wondered morbidly if there were chalk lines inside the house, like the kind they show in muggle murder movies.
Though the neighborhood was a nice one, the Granger house seemed to darken the whole street. Someone walked out of a residence three houses down across the street, glancing slightly at Ron in front of the desolate house and then quickly averting his eyes.
Hermione was nowhere in sight, and Ron felt out of place in his cloak. People would wonder what he was doing there, he thought to himself.
No. came a reply from somewhere inside him. They'll all do what the man down the street just did, if they see you. They'll turn their faces, shield their eyes, scamper to their cars and feel down the rest of the day. Most will just pretend you and the house aren't here. That's what this house does to them. Somehow they know that evil things happened here. Somehow they know that it's been corrupted.
Despite the heat of the day, Ron pulled his cloak tighter around him and hunkered down beside the For Sale post, nearly hidden by the high yellow grass.
--------------------
Closure. That's what they call it. Like it's a door you can shut, like it's a bottle you can put a stopper in. Something so simple. Just be closed. Click, and you're done.
Loving mother. Caring father. Missed by all.
Loved by most.
Hated for what they were, by people they never met.
Dead because their only child was special, as they knew she would be.
So she stood, the wind gently rippling her soft robe. Her knapsack lay forgotten a few feet away from the painfully familiar headstone belonging to her parents.
She leaned over, a pain in her heart and throat threatening to consume her. She ran her hands along the upright stone, moving them gently over their names, the dates of their births and deaths, then down to the prayer Hermione had chosen so many years ago. Of course, it was often used for headstones, but to Hermione, it still had an impact.
The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.
She murmured the words to herself, gently chocking away a sob that threatened.
"For thou art with me."
There was a rustling behind her, and Hermione turned to the sound of a harsh, vile voice.
"Oh, didn't anyone tell you during your nap? God is dead, little one."
And the woman fell upon her.
--------------------
By the by, if you ever have the chance to see a Tool concert, do it. It was great! :)
And you know what? I still don't.
Where is Hermione? Where is she going to go? And just who the hell IS that?
Man, I wish I knew the answers to those questions.
In any event, to be honest, I didn't TOTALLY slack the last two months. If you like Labyrinth, I wrote a very short story (just two chapters) called Memiors of Loss, and review if you read, please. Of course, there's also a relatively new Peter Pettigrew story, Turning, which I have no idea if anyone likes, except for one person ;)
As always, I will eternally love you if you review. And more importantly – please enjoy.
Chapter Eight: The Shadow of Death
Upon reading her letter, he had shoved it into his pocket and turned immediately to his room, taking the time only to cover himself in a heavy cloak and pull a small, thick, green book from inside his nightstand. He had tucked it into a deep pocket, chocked back a sob, and apparated just outside of the Hogwarts grounds.
He was met at the high iron gate by Headmaster Dumbledore himself. The old man's face was solemn, and his hug was firm.
"Mr. Weasley, I can only assume you are looking for Ms. Granger."
Ron nodded, his head bowed. After all these years, he was never really surprised that Dumbledore arrived exactly when he was needed the most – it was now absolutely comforting to see him arrive in a time of sorrow or need.
Dumbledore motioned for Ron to follow him, and led him across the grounds, then up to his office. The stone gargoyle jumped quickly out of their way, and Dumbledore moved behind his desk.
The headmaster gazed quietly at Ron for a moment, making the red-headed man slightly uncomfortable. Attempting to stave off the feeling of one being scrutinized, Ron began to move his focus around the room. Fawkes was perched in the corner, and at the moment, he was in his prime. His beautiful scarlet and gold feathers shimmered though there was little light in the room. The great bird's eyes were level with his own, and for some reason, Ron found this comforting. Slowly, in the quiet of the room, Ron felt himself slipping into a calm reverie. Fawke's did not shift his gaze, but tilted his beautiful head and opened his mouth, emitting a slow, mournful, and utterly beautiful song.
"Ronald?" The bird had stopped singing – how long ago had that been? Ron shook his head and looked to the Headmaster, who was smiling slightly.
"Feel better?" he offered Ron a small candy dish filled with small chocolates in the shape of fruits. Ron nodded and took two of the chocolates, a pear and a watermelon.
"Now, onto Miss Granger."
Ron nodded, waiting for the Headmaster to continue. After a moment, the elder man tilted his head inquiringly, and Ron realized that he was waiting for him to speak. Slowly, haltingly, Ron began telling Dumbledore all that had happened in the last few days, being discrete where it was necessary. The older man didn't speak, but nodded often and occasionally nibbled on a chocolate. It became easier to speak as the days flew by in prose, though Ron was near tears when he finished, handing Dumbledore the letter Hermione had left.
Dumbledore gazed at the letter over his half-moon glasses, then nodded and set it on his desk.
"And so, we are at an impasse", he said,
Ron nodded.
The old headmaster and began to circle the room in long, deft strides, despite his age. He made the circuit three times before he stopped, turned, and moved to look down on Ron.
"Why did you come here?" he asked kindly.
Ron was dumbfounded. He though that had been obvious!
"Professor, sir, I just don't know what to do!" Ron's hands were beginning to shake. "I've never been this scared in my entire life." Images flashed in Ron's mind of their final confrontation with Voldemort. "Nearly, at least. Before, I always knew where she was. Now, she could be anywhere. She could be lying in the street dead for all I know!"
The old man nodded. "And do you think she is, Mr. Weasley?"
Ron gazed up at Dumbledore and slowly shook his head. "No… I… she's always been the most careful of us. Even if she isn't feeling right, she can take care of herself."
Dumbledore said nothing, but picked an apple out of the candy dish.
Ron sat. What was Dumbledore waiting for? There was something, he knew, that he was supposed to get, but he couldn't seem to think straight. He gently pulled the letter from the desk, his eyes wandering over it.
Forever is a long time…I'm still dead.
The gears turned in the red-headed man's head. She didn't feel real anymore… she wanted to be with him, but alone too… still dead… dead…
And suddenly, Ron was fairly sure he knew where she was.
Her parents.
She was going home.
--------------------
Oh bully. she thought rebelliously. I've known how to apparate since fourth year, license or no.
She had was at her parent's old office, intending to only go in for a moment. It was now a frame shop, and no part of the old dentist office showed through. She supposed that after they had died, someone had sold off all of the equipment and the building. She didn't really care.
The woman at the counter smiled sweetly at her when she walked in, painfully reminding Hermione that Nina, her parent's old receptionist, had once sat where she was. What happened to Nina? What about Toby? How did he fare when his mother lost her job?
But no, that was many years ago already, wasn't it? Toby was a teenager now, probably with his own job. Maybe Nina had gotten married. Maybe she had even had more children.
Hermione nodded gently at the old proprietor and began to wander around the room. The reception area wall had been knocked down, and now, where her father's office had been were lines of sample frames. In the corner where a large potted plant had once been, a plant her mother had been so painfully proud of, was a table on which sat framed photos of models that no one would ever meet, let alone really have pictures of.
The storekeeper patted her gently on the shoulder. "Are you looking… dear, you look a bit ill. Are you alright?" Hermione swallowed her tears back hard. "Yes" she croaked. "I'm just looking for something." Now she got a better look at the woman, who really wasn't so old – her face was fairly young, but her hair near completely grey and lifeless. The name tag said "Nina". Hermione gasped.
The woman's eyes filled with tears. "You recognize me. I knew it was you!" She gently drew Hermione to herself in a motherly hug, smoothing down her hair. A customer began to open the door, but stopped herself once she saw what was going on inside. Best to leave them to their privacy, she told herself. Looks like they're going through a hard time.
In her old friend's arms, Hermione now saw that not everything was gone. The plant was on the counter, well watered and flourishing still, even after all those years, and Hermione saw that the rolls of children's stickers her parents used to give out after examinations were still intact on the far left wall.
Nina pulled back now. "Where were you? I tried to find you, but after your parents died… The state said you had no family, and that you were left in the care of your school, but they wouldn't tell me what school, or even where. I was so worried… And I'm so glad you're alive, honey. Where have you been?"
And then haltingly, and to her amazement, she told Nina everything. Oh, she thought somewhere in the middle of the story, I'll have to wipe her memory afterwards… she can't know about Hogwarts.
When she finished, tears streaming down her face, Nina gently took her in her arms. "Please do me a favor, Hermione."
The girl nodded gently, wiping her eyes with one sleeve.
"Don't make me forget. I know you can do it – lord knows Toby's threatened enough times."
Hermione looked up sharply. Nina was a muggle… wasn't she?
Nina smiled gently and began to stroke Hermione's hair. "Toby was eight when you disappeared, wasn't he? Three years later, he got an invitation to attend a school called Hogwarts. It never even occurred to me that you would have ever gone there. He's a fifth year now, in Ravenclaw, a prefect, and the house Quidditch keeper. His dad, well, he never told me, and when he found out I was pregnant, he left anyway. So it was a surprise, but… well you know. He always felt different anyway.
Hermione did know.
The older woman gave her another tight hug. "Now, this Ron fellow… Hermione, he loves, you, doesn't he?"
Hermione nodded against Nina's shoulder blade.
"Right." She pulled Hermione out an arms length, hands on her shoulders. "You've heard the term 'It's better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all', I'm sure." Again, a nod. "Well," said Nina, "It's bull." This earned her a wan smile from Hermione. "Really, it is. I was blinded by my love for Marc, and it killed me when he left. I wouldn't give up Toby for the world, but it still hurt. If you loose him, and you're sure now that he's your soul mate, then you'll regret it the rest of your life."
Hermione nodded gently, pulling away from the woman.
"Nina", she said, "I'll come back later, maybe tomorrow or the next day. "I'm going to go some place, and think about what you said." She gave the woman another hug and left the store.
--------------------
Though the neighborhood was a nice one, the Granger house seemed to darken the whole street. Someone walked out of a residence three houses down across the street, glancing slightly at Ron in front of the desolate house and then quickly averting his eyes.
Hermione was nowhere in sight, and Ron felt out of place in his cloak. People would wonder what he was doing there, he thought to himself.
No. came a reply from somewhere inside him. They'll all do what the man down the street just did, if they see you. They'll turn their faces, shield their eyes, scamper to their cars and feel down the rest of the day. Most will just pretend you and the house aren't here. That's what this house does to them. Somehow they know that evil things happened here. Somehow they know that it's been corrupted.
Despite the heat of the day, Ron pulled his cloak tighter around him and hunkered down beside the For Sale post, nearly hidden by the high yellow grass.
--------------------
Loving mother. Caring father. Missed by all.
Loved by most.
Hated for what they were, by people they never met.
Dead because their only child was special, as they knew she would be.
So she stood, the wind gently rippling her soft robe. Her knapsack lay forgotten a few feet away from the painfully familiar headstone belonging to her parents.
She leaned over, a pain in her heart and throat threatening to consume her. She ran her hands along the upright stone, moving them gently over their names, the dates of their births and deaths, then down to the prayer Hermione had chosen so many years ago. Of course, it was often used for headstones, but to Hermione, it still had an impact.
The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.
She murmured the words to herself, gently chocking away a sob that threatened.
"For thou art with me."
There was a rustling behind her, and Hermione turned to the sound of a harsh, vile voice.
"Oh, didn't anyone tell you during your nap? God is dead, little one."
And the woman fell upon her.
--------------------
