Disclaimer: Not mine, only the plot! And guess what? I'M BACK!
Twisted Realities
Chapter 1—Things Change
Hermione smiled at her two best friends, wishing them a good summer.
"You'll come to the Burrow, right?" Ron Weasley asked, pushing back his younger sister Ginny. "I'll owl you, ok?" he added, not waiting for her answer.
She grinned, and nodded. "I'll be waiting for it," she replied, receiving a heavy blush from the redhead.
Harry lifted his head in her direction. "You can call this summer. I think it'd be ok this time…" he trailed off, his emerald eyes shining a little more dully. "If not, owl me, too."
Hermione bit her lip, feeling a bit sorry for Harry. "I can't keep you fully informed," she warned him. "We want a little more of a chipper Harry to come back sixth year. But I'll do the best I can."
"I didn't mean with wizarding news!" Harry retorted defensively. "I just meant to talk."
She held her hand up. "Sure, sure. It's not a problem," she told him in a soothing voice. "Take care, alright?"
He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'll try," he answered hollowly.
Hermione nodded again, feeling oddly reassured. "It goes without saying that we'll be owling, Gin," she told her newest best friend. "I expect we'll have lots to talk about. What with Dean and all…" she stopped with a friendly smirk.
Ron growled, clenching his fists. "Thomas better keep his grubby paws away from my little sister…"
"Ronald!" Ginny exclaimed sharply. "It's none of your business firstly. Secondly, do you really think I'm that bad? Can't trust your own sister?"
He scowled. "Not really," he answered stiffly. "But I don't trust Dean even more."
Harry smiled a little, and slapped Ron's back. "No need to worry, mate. Ginny can fend for herself."
"Thank you, Harry," she beamed. "At least someone trusts me," she added darkly, glaring in Ron's direction. Her saccharine smile was back in place after that.
Hermione laughed, and waved to her friends. "I think that's my mum. I'll be going now, ok? I promise to owl you all!"
~*~
But as Hermione came back from the pool three days after the end of school, owling her friends was the furthest thing from her mind.
The sky was dark, and ominous. She squeezed some of the water from her curly, wild hair. As she approached her house, she noticed it.
It hung over her home, glowing, bright, and frightening. Hermione now understood why the sign struck fear in so many hearts. She now knew why people dreaded coming home during that dark period of time.
It no longer took imagining what ran through Sirius' and everyone else's mind when they saw the Potter's house that fateful night that Harry was orphaned.
It was harsh, it was cold…it was reality.
~*~
Hermione glared hatefully at the glittering green mark hovering above her sacred home. The familiar disturbing skull, with the harsh snake poking through the mouth…the renowned Dark Mark.
Her wand hand shook as she tried desperately to make it go away. For the life of her, she couldn't remember the spell Mr. Diggory had used to get rid of the mark in their fourth year.
By the time she had given up, she was thoroughly shaken, and couldn't stop herself from trembling violently. This was not like her at all. At all.
What if the neighbors see? she wondered desperately, collapsing on the ground. What will they think?
Hermione kept the numb feeling in her body by not accepting the harsh truth. She kept busy by worrying about what passing Muggles would think if they would cross past her house with this odd symbol floating in the sky.
She blocked out the icy sensation flowing rapidly through her veins, freezing her to the spot. Inside, her parents would be searching the house frantically, having just got home moments before. They would be wondering what in the bloody hell had happened to keep that sign over their house.
They'd be alive and well, not cold and dead. Nothing was wrong; it was just a young Death Eater's idea of a sick, cruel joke. In the end, she'd be laughing with a nervous delight that nothing was wrong.
However, not even Hermione could let herself think so hopefully. This was the second war of the wizarding world. It was real, and her parents were solid proof.
Hermione wiped at a tear furiously, speculating on how the Ministry would know that her parents were…killed. Was there some sort of secret code she'd have to use? Did they just know if something bad happened? Or did someone need to discover it?
If I have to wait here for days, waiting for some Ministry prats to show up, I'll go insane. I'll kill myself, she promised herself gloomily.
Hermione sniffled, and curled into a little ball underneath the tree that her dad had built a swing on when she was younger. It was gone now, and so was her dad.
~*~
"I told you! For the last bloody time, I saw nothing!" Hermione shrieked at the random Ministry official.
"You didn't go inside to check if there might have been survivors?" he questioned, not easily shaken by her biting tone.
"No, not really," she snapped. "I didn't particularly care to see my parents dead."
"When did you first notice something was wrong?" he plowed through, jotting down her harsh responses without so much as a flinch.
Hermione wanted to cry out loud. This was inhumane. Interrogating after finding out you're an orphan? What kind of place did they run?
Staring stonily at the drab cinder wall in front of her, Hermione gave up fighting him. "When I saw the mark," she said stoically.
"Was there anyone around?"
She breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself. "No. There was no one. I was alone," she replied, keeping her voice as steady as possible.
"Did you notice anything peculiar around or about your house?" he asked, glancing up at her.
A single, solitary tear ran down Hermione's cheek as she answered, "Nothing but the Dark Mark and the realization that I was an orphan."
The wizard cleared his throat awkwardly, watching her tear fall. "That'll be all, Miss Granger. Sorry for the inconvenience."
Hermione nodded, grateful, yet furious at the same time at his sympathetic tone.
She rose slowly, brushing back a frizzy curl. She smoothed over her knee-length skirt, nodding briefly. "Can I go home now?" she asked, before realizing the impact of her words.
The man, Mr. Jennings, shook his head, with a pitying glance at her. "I'm sorry, we can't allow you to live by yourself. Especially during this kind of time."
Hermione nodded again, biting her lip. "I see. I didn't quite mean it like that…it's just, a habit. When I get nervous, I tend to…you know…well…"
The man understood, though the sentence didn't really make sense to her. "I'm afraid you're going to have to spend the night, until we locate a proper place for you to—"
"The Burrow," Hermione blurted with a frantic, desperate ring to her voice. "I'm sure I can stay at the Burrow. Please."
Mr. Jennings checked the clock on the wall. "I'll owl Arthur," he agreed, pulling out a parchment.
The room was quiet, with only the semi-comforting sounds of the quill scratching across the paper, pleading Hermione's case for her to stay with the Weasleys.
Hermione waited patiently as he left the room for an owl, and wait for the response. She couldn't, for the life of her, figure out why he hadn't used the fire to communicate. But, she knew when you were nervous, upset, or feeling guilty, rational thinking didn't always come first.
~*~
When Arthur Weasley arrived to pick her up, she was quiet, and refused to speak. She only yelled out "The Burrow!" to get to their cozy, kooky home. Otherwise, it seemed as though she was catatonic.
Molly Weasley regarded her with sympathy, and bustled around the kitchen, frantically looking for something that may comfort Hermione.
She wasn't sure what had caused her change of personality between her interrogation, and the owled response. But unless absolutely called for, she remained completely silent.
When the Weasley children arrived home, they seemed shocked to find Hermione sitting on the floor, just staring into the fire.
"Mione?" Ron called to her tentatively. "Are you alright?"
Hermione sniffed pitifully, and wiped another tear. She sat stiffly in front of the fire, trying to escape the straining feeling in her throat area as she tried not to cry.
Finally, once Molly had discovered the kids were home, she shooed them out of the room where Hermione was, no explanation given.
Fred and George weren't easily perturbed, and used their invention from last summer to try and hear. But there was nothing, due to the simple fact that Hermione wasn't talking to anyone, period.
Dinner with the normally loud, rambunctious Weasleys was quiet and tense. Hermione filled the seat Percy used to sit in when he was a part of the family.
She picked at her high-piled plate, shoving things around with her fork. She made patterns with the mashed potatoes, and poked the steak incessantly.
"Hermione, you must eat, dear," Molly insisted, shooting looks at Arthur which were never intended for Hermione to catch.
"Really, Hermione, eat up. You need to save your strength," Arthur encouraged, looking weakly at his family. "We're quite frankly worried."
Without a word, she stood up, gave a curt smile, and stalked out the door.
She knew they thought she had gone elsewhere, and stuck around to hear how the Weasley adults would explain the 'delicate' situation to their kids; her friends.
"Mum, what was that all about? What's happened to Hermione?" Ron demanded eagerly, with a panicked tone lying beneath his steady voice.
"Dad, what's wrong with Hermione?" Ginny pleaded, seconds after Ron had started his questioning.
The twins remained silent, staring in awe at the door.
Mr. Weasley shifted uncomfortably, and eyed his children sternly. "Normally, we'd want her to tell you herself. But I don't think Hermione will be saying anything anytime soon."
They nodded eagerly, almost numbly.
"And, er, this is rather hard to say…The Grangers…they were…well, to be honest, they were murdered."
There was a tense silence over the table.
"You mean…" George began softly, horror-struck.
"You-Know-Who," Molly sighed gravely. "Yes, him."
~*~
At the end of the summer, Hermione was back on a train to Hogwarts, sitting with Ron and Harry, who had only just recently been filled in on the reason for her 'phase'.
Both tried chattering in a friendly way, almost ignoring the fact that she didn't so much as acknowledge their presence.
Instead, Hermione busied herself by looking out the window, counting the trees racing by, and praying that Draco Malfoy didn't have the guts to show his face in their compartment. Or any other Slytherin, for that matter.
But of course, that was only wishful thinking.
The compartment door flew open with a bang, and Draco Malfoy stood in the center of it, flanked by Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson.
His lackeys had big, stupid looks on their faces, and Draco and Pansy had cheerful smiles gracing their lips.
"So, I hear Granger is an orphan now," Pansy gloated gleefully, her grin growing wider. "You and Potter should really form a club!" she exclaimed.
Harry shot her a death glare, and Hermione continued to stare blankly out the window.
Pansy was furious with her insolent behavior, and sharply grabbed her wrist. "Listen, mudblood. I was actually addressing you. That means you acknowledge me, not stare off like I'll go away," she hissed into her ear.
Hermione's jaw clenched, and tears threatened to form at the corners of her eyes, but she said nothing.
Pansy's grip grew tighter, and painful. It was easy to tell she wanted to slap Hermione, but her prefect position made her think twice.
"Get off her," Ron growled, shooting up. "Can't you see you're hurting her?" he demanded, stalking towards her.
Pansy sneered at him, and only squeezed harder, finally deriving a reaction. Hermione gave a slight flinch, and then went back to her stiff position with no emotion written across her face.
Draco had remained surprisingly silent during the whole ordeal, and simply watched over it haughtily.
"Let go of her now, you stupid bitch," Harry snapped, ready to push her away roughly.
"Do as Potter says," Draco cut in finally, with that lazy drawl. "Just let the mudblood bitch go. It'll be hard enough to wash the filth off your hands as it is," he added finally, with a cold glare in Harry's direction.
Pansy gave one last dig of her nails into Hermione's wrist, and dropped it, watching it drop limply to her side with a smirk. "You got lucky."
With that, she tossed her hair, and sauntered out, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. Draco threw back one more leer at Harry and his friends, then strut out as well, slamming the door shut.
"That went well," Ron murmured sarcastically.
"Suspicious on Draco's part," Harry mused, glancing in Hermione's direction. He tilted his head thoughtfully, a pang of guilt squeezing his heart. What she must've gone through this summer…
~*~
"What was that all about, Draco?" Pansy hissed harshly as they reentered their compartment. "Defending that bitch like that!"
Draco glared icily in her direction. "Defending?" he repeated questioningly, raising a brow. "Hardly. More like saving you the trouble."
"Of what?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips.
"Granger wasn't reacting, period. I wasn't about to stand there the entire ride in a contaminated section waiting for her to do something," he answered coolly. "Don't get so jealous."
Pansy gasped in a shocked manner. "Please! I'm in no way jealous of that stupid orphaned bookworm! I'd rather be a Gryffindor!"
"If only," Draco muttered, turning to face her back.
She whirled on her heel. "Excuse me?!" she shrieked shrilly. "'If only'?"
"Are you deaf?" he shot back as the door slid open.
Harry peeked in, sighing. "Damn, where'd the trolley go?"
"I wouldn't know," Draco sneered.
"It's not like I wanted to interrupt this meaningful lover's spat," Harry retorted angrily, his eyes flashing. "Get a life."
Draco eyed his coldly. "Sod off now, if you know what's good for you."
"Don't have to tell me twice," Harry replied, flinging the door shut roughly.
He turned to face Pansy. "Don't you even get ideas. We are not going out, this is a mere disagreement between housemates."
Pansy smirked. "Whatever."
~*~
Draco regarded it as rather odd while he sat patiently next to Pansy in the Prefect Compartment, that neither Weasel nor Mudblood was present.
It struck him as even odder when only Weasel showed up. "Where's your Mudblood whore?" he sneered, giving Ron an intimidating stare.
Ron's hands reflexively tightened, prepared to fight. "You shut your effing mouth," he growled in retaliation.
Draco chuckled in mirth. "Do you actually think you could hurt me?" he asked, pleased to hear Pansy giggling after hearing his question.
"Insufferable ferret," Ron murmured hatefully, leaning back as though it would distance the two. "I ought to curse you right now."
"Go ahead. In fact, I dare you," Draco taunted in a disrespectful drawl. A smirk grew on his face at the prospect of the issued challenge. "You're nothing but a low-life, horrific excuse of a wizard. Such insolent behavior would shock no one in the least."
Ron obviously found it wisest to not say anything so he wouldn't get in trouble.
"Not only do you have a disgusting liking for Mudbloods, but you get more and more like the bitch everyday," Pansy cackled.
"Not being to our first meeting is a big black mark against Granger," Draco tsked tauntingly. "I expect she won't be prefect for long, do you?"
Before Ron could retort, the Ravenclaw prefects, followed closely by the Hufflepuff prefects appeared in the compartment.
"No, it doesn't bode well at all," he announced loudly, crossing his arms across his chest. He winked cockily at the Ravenclaw prefect, who had been eyeing him in interest.
Then the Heads entered the room, and they fell silent.
"This year," the girl began, easily flustered by Draco's predatory stare, "will not be as slacking in rule reinforcement."
"Dumbledore has seen to it that you all will be more active in school activities, such as decorating," the boy informed them pompously, nodding to the professor who had just entered.
"We—" the girl paused, looking around the room. "Where's Granger?" she demanded, eyeing Ron, clearly expecting an answer.
He shifted uncomfortably. "Er…"
"Granger's decided she's too good for this meeting," Draco cut in. "Clearly, we don't need a prefect like that bringing us down."
The boy, who had been introduced as Damien from Hufflepuff, sent him a glare. "Malfoy, I'd bite my tongue if I were you," he said warningly.
"Well, I'd kill myself if I were you," Draco spat out hatefully, glaring back at the boy. "Now that we've settled what we would do if we were each other—"
"Mister Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "Watch your mouth, or I'll have your position revoked."
Ron grinned smugly at him, and Draco sat back, sulking and moody. "Sure."
~*~
Ron ran to catch up with Hermione, panting as he grabbed her shoulder. "I can't believe you just skipped out on the meeting!" he exclaimed, falling into step with her and Harry as they reached the carriages.
I can't believe I don't care, Hermione thought harshly. Missing something so trivial wasn't on her list of high worries.
Ron bit his lower lip, suddenly remembering her silence. "'Mione, when are you going to talk again? I'm really…we miss you. The old you."
She felt a brief pang of guilt, but quickly shook it off. He was being too…clingy for her liking. Just for him, she spoke. It was getting boring anyway.
"The old me is gone now," she replied harshly, settling into her seat. "And I don't care if I missed that stuffy old meeting anyway."
Harry and Ron were taken aback, but she was too bitchy to care. They could be offended all they liked, but it wasn't going to change her attitude any more.
"But—"
"Maybe you don't get it," Hermione began cruelly, scooting away from him. "I don't care about Hogwarts, I don't care about being a prefect, my grades…and mostly, I don't care about you."
The biting words hung in the air over the trio, and a tense silence soon followed it.
"Maybe it would be best to leave you alone for a while," Harry suggested quietly, looking hurt. Far too many things were weighing on his mind, and it almost made her feel bad to add onto it.
"Yeah, maybe," she shot back, turning her head away.
What had caused the change in her? Losing parents was bad, certainly…but pushing away her own friends?
Hermione was internally uncertain, but was angry with herself for almost writing it off as a phase as well.
The death of her parents was not a phase. They would never come back. Saying her behavior was just some odd stage in her life was demeaning. They knew nothing of what it felt like to have a fifteen-year bonding time with their parents only to have them roughly ripped away.
They won't even be alive to see me turn sixteen, Hermione thought sadly, feeling sorry for herself since no one else would.
Pity was one thing. Genuine sorrow was quite another.
~*~
Harry and Ron filed slowly into the Great Hall, hoping Hermione would snap out of it and join them. They walked slowly enough for her to catch up if she wanted to, knowing it wouldn't happen.
A horrible feeling of emptiness filled Harry's slowly disintegrating heart. It was one tragedy after another eating away at him. The whole thing seemed stupid.
The realization that he had lost one of his best friends settled into the pit of his stomach, and he swallowed painfully.
Ron looked on the verge of tears. And Harry was right there with him.
A/N: I hope, as always, that you enjoyed it. I submitted it because I got an email hoping I would put it up. Um…sorry I've been gone so long, and I hope it won't be long before I update the regulars.
If you're bored, I have an original piece under fanfiction.net, and yes, I'm still MusikLuver there! It's a sort of fantasy-Greek god thing. One-shot, created for my English class' Mock Epic assignment.
A little plug, which I'm not sure if I've mentioned: I'm the beta for Krystal3, the one who got me hooked on this fanfic ship. So go check her out! 'Untouchable' was the one to suck me in!
So, that's about it, and please review to tell me what you thought! Encouragement is chapters, I always say. It's just whether or not the Muse is home for them that's the problem…
[Submitted: November 22, 2003]