I… this is so weird… I think… I think this is the last chapter.
Well, I'll be damned. It's so weird, I couldn't think of anything to write for nearly a month, and then boom - two chapters, and one of them is the end.
I'm going to write a prologue, of course, but I think that this is actually the last chapter – that is, questions should be clarified that I'm sure most readers have wondered about. You know all those questions you had? Like who messed up Hermione for so long? And why they did it? And who the hell that woman who fell upon Hermione in the last chapter was? Hehe, the best thing about being the author is knowing all of those things. *evil cackle* I know and yoouuu don't, I know and youuuu don't.
But you will. ;) In case you can't tell, part three of this chapter is a flashback to the day Hermione was cursed.
TONS of thanks to those of you who have reviewed – it really, really drives me to write more. As always, the greatest compliment any reader can give me is to review this story – just that you take the time is valuable to me, even if it's to complain about a typo or some bit of out-of-character-ness.
Awake, Lady
Chapter Nine: The Necessity of Remembrance
Ron fidgeted. He had been waiting crouched next to the sign for what seemed like days, but which his watch ensured him was merely hours. In any event, if Hermione was going to come here like he thought, she should have been here – even though he had spent nearly an hour and a half at Hogwarts with Dumbledore, Hermione couldn't apparate, and it would have taken her a bit to find a fireplace that was connected in her hometown. And then, of course, she'd have to explain to the residents exactly why she used their fireplace, and that might take time. Ron had apparated as soon as he had walked off the grounds, directly to her street.
And compounded with his worry and fear, his ass hurt.
He shifted, grimacing, then sighed and put his head in his hands. Where else would she have gone? Hermione had always been an outcast before she entered Hogwarts, so there was little chance she had come to visit an old friend from primary school. She had no surviving relatives – her mother, Lenina, had been an only child, and her father Robert had only one brother, dead of polio when they were children. Both of her grandparents were dead before she turned six.
The only thing that could possibly tie her to this town was her home, this desolate, evil place. Of course, it hadn't been so during Hermione's childhood – Ron remembered her parents both as cheerful, vigorous people who were happy with their lives and their only child. Their house had been so full of love, Hermione had once told him. Even when she went off to school, her parents were supportive and loving, always taking time for her when she came home on vacation. They had even asked Ron and Harry to stay over the summer of their fifth year, and Robert had insisted on taking everyone out to hike once or twice. Lenina had baked cookies for the boys a few days after they arrived, and Ron remembered nearly inhaling them, thinking to himself, Nearly like home, this. Just tidier. As he drifted off to sleep his last night in the Granger home, a thought had flashed through his head, which, in his near-slumber wasn't as embarrassing as one would have assumed. One day, he thought, maybe we can be like this. Happy like this all the time.
He would forget this thought by the next morning, but he would also catch himself watching Hermione in a way he never had before as she laughed at something her mother said, threatened to toss a piece of toast at Harry, stuck her tongue out at him when he complimented her hair, assuming it had been in jest.
Maybe, he thought to himself nine years later, someday we can be like that. Happy all the time.
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Ginny was crying, and Harry's hair stood on end as a result of his raking a hand through it dozens of times. He put an arm around his girlfriend, gently squeezing her around the shoulders. Molly sat across from the two younger lovers, clasping her husband's hand gently. Her face was serene, but there was a nearly undetectable layer of fear beyond the mask.
As soon as Harry had discovered Hermione's note, he had called Ginny to Ron's home. Together, they had contacted Arthur and Molly, who had in turn directly come right away. Then they had set about getting in touch with anyone they thought would have an idea of either Ron or Hermione's whereabouts. All the rest of Ron's siblings had been called via the fire, a few acquaintances from work, and his boss. Molly's brave façade had nearly cracked when they contacted Percy's home – Percy had answered after the second flare, his head floating gently in the flames. No, he had said, he had no idea where they could possibly be. He was sure they had just had a spat. Suddenly, Molly had heard Xandie's distressed voice.
"Daddy?" she had asked. "Is something wrong with Uncle Ron or Aunt Hermione? Where are they? She said we'd go shopping soon. Can I see her, Daddy?"
"Xan…" he had replied, his head turning in the fire. "Nothing's wrong." He tone was uncharacteristically gentle. "They'll be fine. You can see them soon. Go see mum."
The girls voice had come back, sounding relieved. "Tell gran and granda and Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione and Un-"
"Xandie..."
"Just tell them I love them, daddy."
"They know, luv." Percy had turned, his smile faltering. "I'll contact you immediately if I hear from either of them. I'm sure…" he swallowed. "I'm sure they're fine." The fire flared once again, then dropped to its normal position.
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There was hardly light enough to see where she was going, and an alarm was going off in the back of Hermione's mind. The sun was far in the west, threatening to complete its drop below the skyline of tall pines, and soon night would come, no matter how much she prayed it wouldn't. She silently cursed Snape for punishing them. It wasn't her fault Ron had given Goyle a bloody nose, now was it? Despite herself, a small smile snuck onto her face. Perhaps it was.
In any event, there was no other place she'd rather not be right now. The Forbidden Forest was bad enough in the daytime during times of peace. Of course, this task was simply to scare the trio, she thought. Wants to put the fear of Snape in our hearts, I warrant. Somewhere in the distance she heard a familiar noise.
"Oy… Ree…" Someone was yelling, far off. She couldn't quite make out the words, but it sounded like Harry. Good, at least they were nearby. Hermione turned her face to the sky and yelled his name, then Ron's. Birds fluttered in the trees above her, some cooing, some cawing. To Hermione it sounded angry, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her. She made her way slowly towards the voices, occasionally shouting her own call to alert them to her presence. The sun sank lower, and soon she was left with only the hazy twilight to accompany her, fog beginning to roll around her legs, making her think of apparitions totally unlike Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar. No, these reminded her more of muggle horror stories about vengeful ghosts, souls with no purpose except revenge and hurt.
Hermione fought down the rising panic in her throat. She was going to be fine – the voices of her friends were closer now, and with them came a sense of calm and familiarity.
But there was another feeling too, one of wrongness, of blackness, of pain. Hard as she tried to suppress it, this feeling overtook the other, and she began walking faster and faster. The sun was gone.
She began to run in a blind, unexplainable panic. Wild, half formed thoughts raced through her mind, like the strong winds of a hurricane.
Something
Something! Oh some…
Something is
Something is behind me.
She tripped and landed hard on her front. The wind was knocked out of her, and she lay paralyzed on the ground for a moment. Then slowly, painfully, she drew a long, staggered breath.
It was a moment before she heard the noise. Somewhere behind her there was a soft snickering, not unlike that of a Slytherin watching on as she had points deducted, or as she earned a detention. Hermione stayed where she was, trying to draw another breath but not succeeding. Something was going to happen, and in a striking moment of panic-driven clarity, she thought I'm going to die here, and I'll never see Ron and Harry again.
Resolute, she grabbed at her wand, which had fallen within reach. She flipped over, slamming her back against the trunk of the tree whose roots she had tripped over, and pointed it at the figure in front of her.
The person was wearing a heavy, stiff black cloak, ripped at the bottom from years of wear. The hood was drawn around the face, but the shoulders of the figure were slim, and the body petite, from what Hermione could tell. It was either an adolescent boy or a woman, and the laughter still fluttering from the hood indicated that it was most likely the second. Though feminine, the laughter was harsh and cruel, stabbing like a shard of ice. The laugher tapered off as Hermione sat, shaking, against the tree, wand still pointed, and the woman spoke.
"Are you brave, little girl? Are you as brave as our little hero, the Boy Who Lived? Or his agonizingly painful mudblood loving excuse for a sidekick? It's a pity he's decided to take adore you disgusting animals, it really is. That's a powerful family. It's of no consequence, however. Their adoration for all things muggle makes them weak, and so they'll fall and die."
Hermione sat silently, and she began to lose control of her body. Her hand began violently shaking, and even as she raised her other arm to brace it, she knew it wouldn't matter. Her feet were pushing against the dirt, causing a knob in the tree to dig painfully into her back. The woman snorted softly and lifted her hands to her face, pushing back the large hood, letting the light of the evening show her face.
He looks like his father, but he's got his mother's smile… Hermione thought dimly.
"You should be proud, mudblood. You'll be a turning point in the Great War. Your little boyfriend, the Boy Who Lived, is going to go insane after this, because you'll be the equivalent of a muggle plant. You'll win us the war, little one. You'll go down in history." She grinned snidely, that horribly familiar grin spreading across her face, and her blue eyes shined darkly, and before Hermione could utter even the start of a spell, the woman had begun her own.
Hermione reacted at the first syllable, dropping her wand.
"Victus…"
Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry. Oh Harry, I'm sorry.
"Animus…"
I'm so sorry, I can't be brave. I can't be brave.
Hermione curled into a ball, her eyes squeezing out large tears and her mouth working sounds that would be her last words for seven years.
"Mommy, da… mommy…" But they were already dead, and wouldn't come in assistance at her call.
"Letum…"
In the distance, the faint noise of two voices called out to her.
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Ron stood up, his brow creased in irritation and worry. She hadn't shown up, and it was nearly dusk. He, meanwhile, was going nowhere waiting for her. He felt useless, just sitting around in an overgrown yard full of weeds. Perhaps she had come home? He knew it was unlikely, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to check. Then, he'd…
He'd…
He'd be a useless git. Shaking his head, Ron apparated home.
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"You're dead. I'm going to kill you." Ginny stood up as soon as Ron popped into the room, angrily advancing towards him, one fist raised. Her voice was raised loudly, and her face was flushed an angry red color. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you bloody idiot? Just leaving, nothing but Hermione's note, not a word to any of us – "
The trouble with one angry Weasley is that there's always apt to be one more on the horizon.
Or two.
Ron clenched his teeth, meeting his sister just past the coffee table. "What, so I could wait around while you tried to sort this out rationally? I want her back, now, and so I left. Get over it. I'm trying to get her back."
Ginny put her raised hands down to her hips. "Oh, so Mr. Idiot, have you found her? I don't see her. Are you hiding her in your shirt? Did you transfigure her into a hat and decide to carry her around?"
Red patches bloomed on Ron's cheeks. "No, not yet. I haven't been able to find her." His face fell. "I don't know where she is."
Ginny's anger dissolved, and she put her arm around her older brother. "It's ok… we'll find her."
Until then, Harry, Molly and Arthur had been silent, but now Harry broke in. "We'll find her Ron, we will. But we DO need to sit down and talk about it, think it over…"
Ron shook his head in negation. "I know where she is Harry." At his friends look of confusion, he continued. "She's in her hometown. I just can't find her, y'see. I know she's there… I just do. I've been at her house, waiting. I know it's not exactly top-notch Auror work, but I haven't been able to think of anything else. Somehow, I just know she's there. Now, I'm going to go back, and you can come or you can stay." Without another word, Ron apparated away.
Harry looked warily at Ginny, and both looked towards Molly and Arthur. Molly looked slightly relieved to know that at least her son was safe, and she patted Harry gently on the back, and gave her daughter a hug and kiss on the cheek. "We'll wait here, dears. If Hermione comes home, one of us will come get you."
The young couple nodded, then apparated holding hands.
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Hermione stirred gently, attempting to pull the covers around her. Hmm, she thought to herself, seems to be a bit of a chill in here… perhaps I should notify Professor McGonagall.Yes, she'd do that, after she woke up. For now, it was time to sleep, time to –
A sharp kick interrupted her train of thought. She grasped her side quickly, gasping at the pain. Groggily, she sat up. It was dark, but her eyes soon adjusted to the gloom, and she could see a black figure looming above her. She was lying in a corner, and as she looked around the pillar of darkness in front of her, she began to panic. She was at that place, that awful place where her parents had been killed. She hadn't been there at the time, but she had dreamt awful nightmares the night they were attacked, mostly formed visions of her parents being mercilessly tortured. Her mother had been killed shortly after being mocked with the Imperius Curse, but her father had died only after nearly an hour of agony under the Cruciatus Curse. Images flashed in Hermione's mind, quickly and painfully. They had entered downstairs, through the door she was now looking at. Death Eaters, six of them. Two had removed their hoods – one had been Lucius Malfoy, the other a Death Eater she didn't recognize. They had been the leaders in the rage against her parents, but Malfoy had disappeared shortly after their deaths.
The room she was in now was the room her parents had died in. The family room, of all places. Over the old burgundy couch was a white dust cloth, and the floor was dirty only because of years of dust settling. Apparently, no one lived here now, and Hermione understood why. It no longer felt like the home she had grown up in, but like some dark, dirty, forbidden place. The walls seemed to seethe with an invisible, vile slime, and each breath she drew was filled with stale air. She looked again to the figure in front of her, the slim body, pale hands, tattered black cloak. The figure brought it's pale hands – a woman's, Hermione saw by the long nails and petite fingers – and drew back the hood.
And suddenly, in just that instant, Hermione finally remembered what had happened to her that day seven years ago. She had been dreaming about it while she slept, hadn't she? Dream or no, she knew it was valid – just as she knew that her parents were dead before Professor McGonagall had come up to the girls dorm, her eyes filmed with tears, her aging face slack and solemn.
She stared at the woman before her, remembering a day just before her fourth year. I remember thinking that she would have been pretty, if she hadn't been so mean and snobby looking.
The woman before her smirked and crossed her arms. "So you woke up. Good for you. Of course the spell would be broken someday – it was new when I cast it, and there wasn't a remedy." Her face clouded for a moment. "In any event, even if you woke up, you were still supposed to be soulless. I thought it worked like a Dementor's Kiss, but apparently I was wrong, even after all that damned research."
Hermione drew herself up, seething. She hadn't been able to be brave, all those years ago. She would make up for it now.
Hermione spit in Narcissa Malfoy's face.
Narcissa's face altered from one of smug satisfaction to one that was absolutely livid. Shaking with rage, she reached up to her face and wiped it off. "I was just going to kill you. Now I'm going to only make you wish you were dead, you mudblood bitch." With that, she pulled a hand back to slap Hermione. She was too late though – while she had been wiping herself off, Hermione had spied two wand ends slightly sticking out of her pocket. Hermione ducked as Mrs. Malfoy swung her hand down and harmlessly struck her back. Surprised, she had over balanced and gone swinging towards the wall Hermione had been sitting against. Hermione grabbed both wands.
She pulled the away from the vile woman and took two steps forward, wands in hand. Oh, she thought, sarcastically to herself as she looked at the wands, this is wonderful. Mr. Ollivander will throw a fit.
The two wands were both so similar in color, shape, length, and grip that Hermione, being new to her own, couldn't discern which was which. If she used the wrong one against Narcissa, it could backfire and kill her. Wands had the tendency to react badly in hands not belonging to their owners, and certainly a wand used for vile purposes could cast no helpful spells for Hermione. She turned as Narcissa bumped against the wall, and crouched down quickly, placing a foot on both wand ends. Narcissa turned just in time to watch as Hermione pulled with all her might up on the wands, snapping both in half.
Hermione looked up grimly at her adversary, teeth clenched. "Without your wand", she said, "you may as well be a muggle."
Snarling like a wild animal, Mrs. Malfoy launched herself at Hermione, her hands twisted into claws. Hermione stepped back quickly, tripping on the hem of her robes. Narcissa shouted in triumph as she attacked the girl, driving one fist into the side of her face. Hermione screamed, but wriggled underneath the skinny woman. As they fought on the floor of the family room, Hermione realized that she must not have taken care of herself in the past few years. She seemed to have wasted away somewhat, and should have been overcome easily, yet she fought like an animal driven by instinct, and Hermione was losing the battle. Slowly, the minutes past, and Hermione began to lose the will to fight.
Narcissa continued to pound away at Hermione, shrieking at the top of her lungs. "You… are nothing but a tool… for misery. You're nothing… nothing that should be missed… Nothing like my husband… they killed him…and brainwashed my son… and they'll pay with your death!"
At first, Hermione had no idea what the crazed woman was talking about, but as she tried to stave off the blows and take some sort of offensive, it began to make sense. Lucius must have been killed in the war – perhaps even in the end battle, and Narcissa somehow blamed her. "They" seemed to imply Ron and Harry – perhaps even the whole Weasley family. Furious at the unfairness of this, Hermione got a second wind and lashed out at the older woman, both with her hands and with her voice.
"You're a killer, you're a bigot…. And no matter how much your family owns… or how much money you have… you're always going to be worthless…" Hermione wasn't sure how long they'd be able to continue this, and no one in the surrounding homes seemed to be worried about two screaming, fighting women in an old abandoned house. She began to weaken again, no longer fueled by her rage. Her struggles began to lowse power.
This is it. Brave or not, this could be..
There was a sudden explosion as the front door burst open. Footsteps charged down the hall, yelling her name, and Hermione began to fight again, praying that they would come soon. A few seconds later, Ron rushed into the room, followed by Harry and Ginny. All had their wands drawn, and they began screaming at Narcissa. Ron jumped on top of her and began to pull her off. When he discovered he couldn't quite do it alone, Harry began casting spells on the insane woman, sedating and binding her. They soon detained her and sat her on the uncarpeted floor. Ginny was kneeling at Hermione's side, casting minor healing spells to quell her pain and prevent swelling. Hermione was dimly aware of Harry kneeling down next to Mrs. Malfoy and reading her rights out loud. Ron tapped Harry, who nodded to indicate that he was in control, then moved to Hermione's side.
Ron sat down next to Hermione, distancing himself in case she didn't want to be near him.
Hermione drew a deep breath, held out her arms, buried her head into Ron's chest, and burst into tears.
Alright, she thought to herself. Closure.
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Well, I'll be damned. It's so weird, I couldn't think of anything to write for nearly a month, and then boom - two chapters, and one of them is the end.
I'm going to write a prologue, of course, but I think that this is actually the last chapter – that is, questions should be clarified that I'm sure most readers have wondered about. You know all those questions you had? Like who messed up Hermione for so long? And why they did it? And who the hell that woman who fell upon Hermione in the last chapter was? Hehe, the best thing about being the author is knowing all of those things. *evil cackle* I know and yoouuu don't, I know and youuuu don't.
But you will. ;) In case you can't tell, part three of this chapter is a flashback to the day Hermione was cursed.
TONS of thanks to those of you who have reviewed – it really, really drives me to write more. As always, the greatest compliment any reader can give me is to review this story – just that you take the time is valuable to me, even if it's to complain about a typo or some bit of out-of-character-ness.
Chapter Nine: The Necessity of Remembrance
Ron fidgeted. He had been waiting crouched next to the sign for what seemed like days, but which his watch ensured him was merely hours. In any event, if Hermione was going to come here like he thought, she should have been here – even though he had spent nearly an hour and a half at Hogwarts with Dumbledore, Hermione couldn't apparate, and it would have taken her a bit to find a fireplace that was connected in her hometown. And then, of course, she'd have to explain to the residents exactly why she used their fireplace, and that might take time. Ron had apparated as soon as he had walked off the grounds, directly to her street.
And compounded with his worry and fear, his ass hurt.
He shifted, grimacing, then sighed and put his head in his hands. Where else would she have gone? Hermione had always been an outcast before she entered Hogwarts, so there was little chance she had come to visit an old friend from primary school. She had no surviving relatives – her mother, Lenina, had been an only child, and her father Robert had only one brother, dead of polio when they were children. Both of her grandparents were dead before she turned six.
The only thing that could possibly tie her to this town was her home, this desolate, evil place. Of course, it hadn't been so during Hermione's childhood – Ron remembered her parents both as cheerful, vigorous people who were happy with their lives and their only child. Their house had been so full of love, Hermione had once told him. Even when she went off to school, her parents were supportive and loving, always taking time for her when she came home on vacation. They had even asked Ron and Harry to stay over the summer of their fifth year, and Robert had insisted on taking everyone out to hike once or twice. Lenina had baked cookies for the boys a few days after they arrived, and Ron remembered nearly inhaling them, thinking to himself, Nearly like home, this. Just tidier. As he drifted off to sleep his last night in the Granger home, a thought had flashed through his head, which, in his near-slumber wasn't as embarrassing as one would have assumed. One day, he thought, maybe we can be like this. Happy like this all the time.
He would forget this thought by the next morning, but he would also catch himself watching Hermione in a way he never had before as she laughed at something her mother said, threatened to toss a piece of toast at Harry, stuck her tongue out at him when he complimented her hair, assuming it had been in jest.
Maybe, he thought to himself nine years later, someday we can be like that. Happy all the time.
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As soon as Harry had discovered Hermione's note, he had called Ginny to Ron's home. Together, they had contacted Arthur and Molly, who had in turn directly come right away. Then they had set about getting in touch with anyone they thought would have an idea of either Ron or Hermione's whereabouts. All the rest of Ron's siblings had been called via the fire, a few acquaintances from work, and his boss. Molly's brave façade had nearly cracked when they contacted Percy's home – Percy had answered after the second flare, his head floating gently in the flames. No, he had said, he had no idea where they could possibly be. He was sure they had just had a spat. Suddenly, Molly had heard Xandie's distressed voice.
"Daddy?" she had asked. "Is something wrong with Uncle Ron or Aunt Hermione? Where are they? She said we'd go shopping soon. Can I see her, Daddy?"
"Xan…" he had replied, his head turning in the fire. "Nothing's wrong." He tone was uncharacteristically gentle. "They'll be fine. You can see them soon. Go see mum."
The girls voice had come back, sounding relieved. "Tell gran and granda and Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione and Un-"
"Xandie..."
"Just tell them I love them, daddy."
"They know, luv." Percy had turned, his smile faltering. "I'll contact you immediately if I hear from either of them. I'm sure…" he swallowed. "I'm sure they're fine." The fire flared once again, then dropped to its normal position.
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In any event, there was no other place she'd rather not be right now. The Forbidden Forest was bad enough in the daytime during times of peace. Of course, this task was simply to scare the trio, she thought. Wants to put the fear of Snape in our hearts, I warrant. Somewhere in the distance she heard a familiar noise.
"Oy… Ree…" Someone was yelling, far off. She couldn't quite make out the words, but it sounded like Harry. Good, at least they were nearby. Hermione turned her face to the sky and yelled his name, then Ron's. Birds fluttered in the trees above her, some cooing, some cawing. To Hermione it sounded angry, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her. She made her way slowly towards the voices, occasionally shouting her own call to alert them to her presence. The sun sank lower, and soon she was left with only the hazy twilight to accompany her, fog beginning to roll around her legs, making her think of apparitions totally unlike Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar. No, these reminded her more of muggle horror stories about vengeful ghosts, souls with no purpose except revenge and hurt.
Hermione fought down the rising panic in her throat. She was going to be fine – the voices of her friends were closer now, and with them came a sense of calm and familiarity.
But there was another feeling too, one of wrongness, of blackness, of pain. Hard as she tried to suppress it, this feeling overtook the other, and she began walking faster and faster. The sun was gone.
She began to run in a blind, unexplainable panic. Wild, half formed thoughts raced through her mind, like the strong winds of a hurricane.
Something
Something! Oh some…
Something is
Something is behind me.
She tripped and landed hard on her front. The wind was knocked out of her, and she lay paralyzed on the ground for a moment. Then slowly, painfully, she drew a long, staggered breath.
It was a moment before she heard the noise. Somewhere behind her there was a soft snickering, not unlike that of a Slytherin watching on as she had points deducted, or as she earned a detention. Hermione stayed where she was, trying to draw another breath but not succeeding. Something was going to happen, and in a striking moment of panic-driven clarity, she thought I'm going to die here, and I'll never see Ron and Harry again.
Resolute, she grabbed at her wand, which had fallen within reach. She flipped over, slamming her back against the trunk of the tree whose roots she had tripped over, and pointed it at the figure in front of her.
The person was wearing a heavy, stiff black cloak, ripped at the bottom from years of wear. The hood was drawn around the face, but the shoulders of the figure were slim, and the body petite, from what Hermione could tell. It was either an adolescent boy or a woman, and the laughter still fluttering from the hood indicated that it was most likely the second. Though feminine, the laughter was harsh and cruel, stabbing like a shard of ice. The laugher tapered off as Hermione sat, shaking, against the tree, wand still pointed, and the woman spoke.
"Are you brave, little girl? Are you as brave as our little hero, the Boy Who Lived? Or his agonizingly painful mudblood loving excuse for a sidekick? It's a pity he's decided to take adore you disgusting animals, it really is. That's a powerful family. It's of no consequence, however. Their adoration for all things muggle makes them weak, and so they'll fall and die."
Hermione sat silently, and she began to lose control of her body. Her hand began violently shaking, and even as she raised her other arm to brace it, she knew it wouldn't matter. Her feet were pushing against the dirt, causing a knob in the tree to dig painfully into her back. The woman snorted softly and lifted her hands to her face, pushing back the large hood, letting the light of the evening show her face.
He looks like his father, but he's got his mother's smile… Hermione thought dimly.
"You should be proud, mudblood. You'll be a turning point in the Great War. Your little boyfriend, the Boy Who Lived, is going to go insane after this, because you'll be the equivalent of a muggle plant. You'll win us the war, little one. You'll go down in history." She grinned snidely, that horribly familiar grin spreading across her face, and her blue eyes shined darkly, and before Hermione could utter even the start of a spell, the woman had begun her own.
Hermione reacted at the first syllable, dropping her wand.
"Victus…"
Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry. Oh Harry, I'm sorry.
"Animus…"
I'm so sorry, I can't be brave. I can't be brave.
Hermione curled into a ball, her eyes squeezing out large tears and her mouth working sounds that would be her last words for seven years.
"Mommy, da… mommy…" But they were already dead, and wouldn't come in assistance at her call.
"Letum…"
In the distance, the faint noise of two voices called out to her.
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He'd…
He'd be a useless git. Shaking his head, Ron apparated home.
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The trouble with one angry Weasley is that there's always apt to be one more on the horizon.
Or two.
Ron clenched his teeth, meeting his sister just past the coffee table. "What, so I could wait around while you tried to sort this out rationally? I want her back, now, and so I left. Get over it. I'm trying to get her back."
Ginny put her raised hands down to her hips. "Oh, so Mr. Idiot, have you found her? I don't see her. Are you hiding her in your shirt? Did you transfigure her into a hat and decide to carry her around?"
Red patches bloomed on Ron's cheeks. "No, not yet. I haven't been able to find her." His face fell. "I don't know where she is."
Ginny's anger dissolved, and she put her arm around her older brother. "It's ok… we'll find her."
Until then, Harry, Molly and Arthur had been silent, but now Harry broke in. "We'll find her Ron, we will. But we DO need to sit down and talk about it, think it over…"
Ron shook his head in negation. "I know where she is Harry." At his friends look of confusion, he continued. "She's in her hometown. I just can't find her, y'see. I know she's there… I just do. I've been at her house, waiting. I know it's not exactly top-notch Auror work, but I haven't been able to think of anything else. Somehow, I just know she's there. Now, I'm going to go back, and you can come or you can stay." Without another word, Ron apparated away.
Harry looked warily at Ginny, and both looked towards Molly and Arthur. Molly looked slightly relieved to know that at least her son was safe, and she patted Harry gently on the back, and gave her daughter a hug and kiss on the cheek. "We'll wait here, dears. If Hermione comes home, one of us will come get you."
The young couple nodded, then apparated holding hands.
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A sharp kick interrupted her train of thought. She grasped her side quickly, gasping at the pain. Groggily, she sat up. It was dark, but her eyes soon adjusted to the gloom, and she could see a black figure looming above her. She was lying in a corner, and as she looked around the pillar of darkness in front of her, she began to panic. She was at that place, that awful place where her parents had been killed. She hadn't been there at the time, but she had dreamt awful nightmares the night they were attacked, mostly formed visions of her parents being mercilessly tortured. Her mother had been killed shortly after being mocked with the Imperius Curse, but her father had died only after nearly an hour of agony under the Cruciatus Curse. Images flashed in Hermione's mind, quickly and painfully. They had entered downstairs, through the door she was now looking at. Death Eaters, six of them. Two had removed their hoods – one had been Lucius Malfoy, the other a Death Eater she didn't recognize. They had been the leaders in the rage against her parents, but Malfoy had disappeared shortly after their deaths.
The room she was in now was the room her parents had died in. The family room, of all places. Over the old burgundy couch was a white dust cloth, and the floor was dirty only because of years of dust settling. Apparently, no one lived here now, and Hermione understood why. It no longer felt like the home she had grown up in, but like some dark, dirty, forbidden place. The walls seemed to seethe with an invisible, vile slime, and each breath she drew was filled with stale air. She looked again to the figure in front of her, the slim body, pale hands, tattered black cloak. The figure brought it's pale hands – a woman's, Hermione saw by the long nails and petite fingers – and drew back the hood.
And suddenly, in just that instant, Hermione finally remembered what had happened to her that day seven years ago. She had been dreaming about it while she slept, hadn't she? Dream or no, she knew it was valid – just as she knew that her parents were dead before Professor McGonagall had come up to the girls dorm, her eyes filmed with tears, her aging face slack and solemn.
She stared at the woman before her, remembering a day just before her fourth year. I remember thinking that she would have been pretty, if she hadn't been so mean and snobby looking.
The woman before her smirked and crossed her arms. "So you woke up. Good for you. Of course the spell would be broken someday – it was new when I cast it, and there wasn't a remedy." Her face clouded for a moment. "In any event, even if you woke up, you were still supposed to be soulless. I thought it worked like a Dementor's Kiss, but apparently I was wrong, even after all that damned research."
Hermione drew herself up, seething. She hadn't been able to be brave, all those years ago. She would make up for it now.
Hermione spit in Narcissa Malfoy's face.
Narcissa's face altered from one of smug satisfaction to one that was absolutely livid. Shaking with rage, she reached up to her face and wiped it off. "I was just going to kill you. Now I'm going to only make you wish you were dead, you mudblood bitch." With that, she pulled a hand back to slap Hermione. She was too late though – while she had been wiping herself off, Hermione had spied two wand ends slightly sticking out of her pocket. Hermione ducked as Mrs. Malfoy swung her hand down and harmlessly struck her back. Surprised, she had over balanced and gone swinging towards the wall Hermione had been sitting against. Hermione grabbed both wands.
She pulled the away from the vile woman and took two steps forward, wands in hand. Oh, she thought, sarcastically to herself as she looked at the wands, this is wonderful. Mr. Ollivander will throw a fit.
The two wands were both so similar in color, shape, length, and grip that Hermione, being new to her own, couldn't discern which was which. If she used the wrong one against Narcissa, it could backfire and kill her. Wands had the tendency to react badly in hands not belonging to their owners, and certainly a wand used for vile purposes could cast no helpful spells for Hermione. She turned as Narcissa bumped against the wall, and crouched down quickly, placing a foot on both wand ends. Narcissa turned just in time to watch as Hermione pulled with all her might up on the wands, snapping both in half.
Hermione looked up grimly at her adversary, teeth clenched. "Without your wand", she said, "you may as well be a muggle."
Snarling like a wild animal, Mrs. Malfoy launched herself at Hermione, her hands twisted into claws. Hermione stepped back quickly, tripping on the hem of her robes. Narcissa shouted in triumph as she attacked the girl, driving one fist into the side of her face. Hermione screamed, but wriggled underneath the skinny woman. As they fought on the floor of the family room, Hermione realized that she must not have taken care of herself in the past few years. She seemed to have wasted away somewhat, and should have been overcome easily, yet she fought like an animal driven by instinct, and Hermione was losing the battle. Slowly, the minutes past, and Hermione began to lose the will to fight.
Narcissa continued to pound away at Hermione, shrieking at the top of her lungs. "You… are nothing but a tool… for misery. You're nothing… nothing that should be missed… Nothing like my husband… they killed him…and brainwashed my son… and they'll pay with your death!"
At first, Hermione had no idea what the crazed woman was talking about, but as she tried to stave off the blows and take some sort of offensive, it began to make sense. Lucius must have been killed in the war – perhaps even in the end battle, and Narcissa somehow blamed her. "They" seemed to imply Ron and Harry – perhaps even the whole Weasley family. Furious at the unfairness of this, Hermione got a second wind and lashed out at the older woman, both with her hands and with her voice.
"You're a killer, you're a bigot…. And no matter how much your family owns… or how much money you have… you're always going to be worthless…" Hermione wasn't sure how long they'd be able to continue this, and no one in the surrounding homes seemed to be worried about two screaming, fighting women in an old abandoned house. She began to weaken again, no longer fueled by her rage. Her struggles began to lowse power.
This is it. Brave or not, this could be..
There was a sudden explosion as the front door burst open. Footsteps charged down the hall, yelling her name, and Hermione began to fight again, praying that they would come soon. A few seconds later, Ron rushed into the room, followed by Harry and Ginny. All had their wands drawn, and they began screaming at Narcissa. Ron jumped on top of her and began to pull her off. When he discovered he couldn't quite do it alone, Harry began casting spells on the insane woman, sedating and binding her. They soon detained her and sat her on the uncarpeted floor. Ginny was kneeling at Hermione's side, casting minor healing spells to quell her pain and prevent swelling. Hermione was dimly aware of Harry kneeling down next to Mrs. Malfoy and reading her rights out loud. Ron tapped Harry, who nodded to indicate that he was in control, then moved to Hermione's side.
Ron sat down next to Hermione, distancing himself in case she didn't want to be near him.
Hermione drew a deep breath, held out her arms, buried her head into Ron's chest, and burst into tears.
Alright, she thought to herself. Closure.
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