Title: An Inevitable Fate
Chapter Nineteen: Choices
Author: KissThis
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Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.
Pairing: Separated by country borders
Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.
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Disclaimer: Michael Jackson owns more of Harry Potter than I do...*snickers*
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A/N: The going is kinda slow...sorry, but I now have FOUR stories going, Fate, Revelation, Stars II, and now Life. I shall do my best, though.
"You travel in ze company of a nymph, child..." Maxime mused. Her black eyes darted over the trio.
Hermione nodded politely, "Yes, Madame. She is Postvorta -- a prophetic nymph, a Camenae. She is also my advisor and confidant."
"Ve are not unfamiliar wiz beings such as she," Fleur input.
"Ve are also not unfamiliar wiz ze Zovereign Prophecy -- zo, some of us view it as only a child'z vairy-tale..."
"It is not." Postvorta intoned.
"Zo you say..." Madame Maxime's words didn't seem directed at any one person, least of all Postvorta. It was more like the hushed tone of one talking to themselves aloud. Nonetheless, Postvorta seemed compelled to answer.
"Since you have an above standard knowledge of my species, then you should know that we are unable to tell a lie."
Fleur smiled faintly and nodded her head a bit.
"If I were to believe you, Miz Granger," Maxime started suddenly. "Vot vould you ask of me and my school?"
Hermione was silent for a moment. And then, quietly she said, "I will not lie to you Madame Maxime. I will not lie to you because I believe that you are not stupid. I believe that any attempt I would make on glossing over the true nature of my being here would insult you, your school, and the magical community of France. So I'm going to tell you the truth: If Voldemort attacked Beauxbatons -- tonight -- it would fall. Hogwarts would fall." Hermione took a step forward. "We can't survive alone."
"How can ve survive in such darkness...?" Fleur asked softly. The blue gaze she turned on Hermione was so different than the carefree look of the seventh year girl she had met years ago. So filled with pain.
"Together."
Fleur smiled, "You say that vith such confidence...I vant to believe you..."
Hermione grasped Fleur's shoulders, "Then believe. Believe in me. Believe in Hogwarts. Believe in the prophecy! But above all else, Fleur...you must believe that even this darkness, this shadow, must pass."
She turned to Maxime, now; the passion of her words making her golden eyes glow around the edges. "You must believe that there's some good in this world...And it's worth fighting for."
Madame Maxime, who had listened to the Hermione's speech without a word, remained silent. One could only imagine what was going through her mind as her black eyes stared off into the valley. Could she put her trust and the lives of her students in the hands of a girl barely seventeen?
"Please," Hermione pleaded. "You must bring your students to Hogwarts. Only there will they be safe -- only there will they stand a fighting chance! War is upon us Madame...I do not wish for your students to die like animals in a slaughterhouse. The people of France's blood is too great and filled with too much honor to be senselessly spilled."
"Stay and die, or stand and fight." Postvorta echoed. "It's all about the choice..."
Maxime's eyes blinked suddenly and she seemed to come back to herself. Stirring herself to action she thundered down the stone steps and came to a stop in front of the trio and Fleur.
"I've lived in zis darkness for too long, and I don't know if I can find ze strength to believe zat it vill pass." She paused and Hermione held her breath.
"But...if you believe zen I believe in your 'ope. Ve vill fight."
Draco was on his way to Muggle Studies when he spotted a head of auburn curls bobbing through the crowd of students making their way to their own classes. The load of books he carried shifted in his hands and his pace quickened.
"Ginny!"
The instinct inherent to every soul made the girl stop and instantly look around upon hearing her own name. Her eyes landed on him and Draco watched her body relax and her weight sink to her heels. Her posture shifted to one of idleness. This idleness lasted until he caught up to her and they continued on down the corridor together.
"Ginny, I--"
She let out a raspy breath that caught and hitched in her throat. Draco stopped speaking abruptly and his hawk-like eyes darted across Ginny's face, that only at such a close range was he realizing to be puffy and red, especially around the eyes; as if she'd been crying.
"Is the meeting starting now?" She whispered quietly.
Draco was now genuinely confused, "Meeting? What meeting -- wait; Have you been crying?"
She nodded and the back of her palm swiped mechanically against her eyes ridding them of the tears that were beginning to form. Rummaging through her knapsack she retrieved a threadbare handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and nose. "Yeah, even though Ron told me I shouldn't fret...I couldn't help it," Her voice cracked. "I mean...what if it's really true Draco?"
He pulled her hand holding the kerchief away from her face and, without the shielding object in the way, looked into her eyes. Her shoulders he gripped firmly as if to anchor her there, but his fingers shifted incessantly against the fabric of her robes, belying his impatience. This impatience was fueled by the curiosity poorly hidden on his face as he bent a bit to reach Ginny's height.
"What's going on, Gin?"
Ginny tried to pull away, her rust curls sweeping against her shoulders, but when his voice repeated inside her head -- a resonance of serious unawareness -- she ceased her struggles.
"Oh, God, you don't know..." She murmured frantically more to herself than he. "I thought you were going to meet with the Order."
Bells and sirens went off in Draco's head. The Order wasn't summoned unless something important was happening; or had happened. Licking his lips, he said slowly; "I don't know anything, Ginny. I've been asleep up until now."
"Oh, no!" She wailed bursting into fresh tears. Unable to support the sudden weight pressed upon them, Ginny slid limply through his hands and fell flaccidly to the stone floor. The white handkerchief was instantly a sodden mess as the girl pressed her sobbing face to the rough linen.
"GINNY!"
"She's gone!" Ginny keened from the floor. "Hermione's missing!"
The Beauxbatons castle and all it's occupants lay sleeping, nestled in the heart of the La Vie Valley -- The Valley of Life. All but one. Even as dawn's golden fingertips were reaching out to caress the agéd stones a young women was rising.
Filled with anxiety, sleep was no longer able to contain her and she woke from her weak and restless sleep. High up in the castle's turret where guests were held pale blue draperies were pulled aside; a window was opened.
Framed within the tarnished bronze frame was a woman incomparable to any other. Hair still tousled from sleep framed her heart-shaped face with coffee-colored strands. A patched cerulean afghan was draped unconcernedly about her bare body -- the frayed hem ending just below her breasts, leaving the rest of her naked body hidden beneath the window's ledge. What bare skin could be seen still held a semblance of the sun's touch, but after weeks of being deprived from it's exposure the toning of her skin had begun to fade back towards pale ivory. Blazing ochre eyes gazed out into the eminent dawn dwarfing even the sun's brilliance.
It was September 23.
Hermione grunted with exertion as she hefted her heavy sword above her head and began her training exercise once more. Perspiration beaded on her forehead and dripped down onto her crimson shirt. Her shoulders tensed and her knuckles popped white as she completely reversed the direction of her spinning weapon and slashed it across the other way. Muscles screamed in protest of Hermione's relentless assault upon them and she gritted her teeth.
She spun on her heels and thrust her blade behind her. Twisting her body back around she sliced her sword upward through the air. A fierce cry was ripped from her throat as she rotated at the waist and flung out her arm.
Her wrist extended and the golden hilt was released. Two inches of pure, shining steel pierced the thick wood of a nearby oak like it was nothing more than butter. It quivered slowly to a stop causing a brief shower of richly colored leaves to rain down upon the mossy ground.
An icy chill shot straight down to Hermione's toes and her head immediately began to buzz. Sweat rolled down the bridge of her nose and dropped down to disappear into the fog swirling about her ankles. She drew in a shaky breath, born of exertion, and slowly passed a hand over her eyes -- ineffectively attempting to rid her stingy eyes of salty sweat. Another icy burst erupted in her right shoulder and her arm was instantly numb.
Caring fingers stroked her hair in time to the rising and falling of her chest; soothing her. Hermione closed her eyes and placed a hand over the one caressing her shoulder.
"Use your power -- call it forth, give in to it. Summon your weapon back to you."
"Postvorta..." Hermione murmured.
The hand beneath hers slipped away and she regained the feeling in her arm, "I am here; do not be afraid."
"I am not afraid."
'Then you must do what needs to be done." Postvorta's remaining hand disengaged itself from her hair and Hermione's mind was filled with sharp clarity once more. She drifted lazily from her charge, letting the wind carry her away. Hermione stood stone still.
Hands clasped as if in prayer she called out:
"Hope who has created me,
Hope who bound itself to me;
I call you forth!"
Light burst from between the seams of her fingers; shallow spikes of gold. Her hands released themselves and separated steadily. Her fingers were still crooked like she was holding onto something. Bobbing slightly between her palms was a swirling ball of pure energy. It crackled like electricity and shot off sparks into the fog.
"Lend me your faith,
Give me your strength
And cleanse me of my human imperfections!"
The orb exploded over her hands. The golden light seeped up her arms like melted gold. In awe she lifted up her arm and as it caught the dawn light liquid ambrosia dripped down onto her clothes, staining them saffron. Her eyes rolled back into her head showing only the haunting whites. But even they too were consumed by the light and turned to blinding gold.
And she stood there...and let Hope overtake her. She felt herself slipping away, but did nothing to stop the energy from stealing her body from her. Only a deep sadness was left. And then she was no longer Hermione Granger. She was no longer a seventeen year old girl standing deadened in the fog.
She was Hope...
...She was the Sovereign of Light.
She existed now in a place beyond time -- She was ageless, carved by a divine hand into a marble perfection. She was immortal, and as such untouched by the effects of the world in which She walked. She did not know pain, She did not know sickness, She did not know suffering.......because She was unable to feel. The trials of the mortal world were foreign to Her.
She was the hand that kept the world in perfect balance.
She was the spirit that gave promises for the future.
SHE
WAS
HOPE
...With a human face sculpted into perpetual sadness.
An ivory hand lifted into the air and pulsing eyes locked on the buried sword. Blue light engulfed the sword and it began to tremble as Hope bent Her will upon it. The sword gave a relenting shriek and shot out the oak in a burst of splintered wood. She "pulled" it towards Herself and it spun violently into Her hand. She stood frozen.
"Sovereign?" Postvorta probed.
"To the castle." Her voice was deep and warped never holding to one voice. Only if you listened closely could you hear Hermione's voice; soft and quiet. "They are here."
The aura about Her spiked and Her wings unfurled. Her black gown flapped against Her bare legs and the fog about Her was blasted away as Hope took to the air rocketing back to the castle.
I hope you all like and I'm like WAY sorry it took forever. I apologize but I've just been swamped with school and I've got ninety-ba-jillion other stories going on so...beat me accordingly. Lol.
Review please! [if you're still out there]
KissThis