Title: An Inevitable Fate
Chapter Thirty Two: Confrontation and Vindication
Author: KissThis
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Little H/Hr, Little MORE D/Hr (long awaited)
Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.
†
Disclaimer: I don't own any HP. The lyrics used in this chapter and the next are both copyrighted to Dashboard Confessional ("Drowning", "Vindicated")
ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY!
A/N: This first part has a little H/Hr hintage, but it's mostly angst with Hermione and then Hermione x Draco making up.
Enjoy this, the one year anniversary chapter of An Inevitable Fate:
She'd slept through lunch, so when dinner finally rolled around after a particularly grueling weaponry session Hermione's steps were brisk as she hurried to meet up with Harry and Ron at the entrance. She was halfway down the stairs when the giant, ceiling-high doors opened inward and a bedraggled clump of sixth-years came shuffling inside.
Pressing her satchel to her side, Hermione took the last few steps in a rush, skipping every other and taking the last three in a less-than-dignified leap.
"What happened to you two?" She called out, picking out her friends' tired faces in the crowd and jogging towards them.
As they elbowed their way into sight, Hermione stopped short, her face cracking into a wide grin. They looked absolutely ridiculous. Their hair was sticking up in all directions, and even Harry's looked like it'd taken a turn for the worse. It didn't help that small twigs and crushed leaves were poking out of their robes and from behind their ears, adding to the hilarity of their appearance.
"Have you two been rolling in the dirt?" She ventured, dissolving into loud laughter barely suppressed by the inadequate hand covering her mouth. They scowled at her, but she waved their annoyance away with her free hand.
"Let's head to dinner and then we can get the two of you cleaned up, eh?" She suggested, trying vainly to keep the amusement from her voice. They grumbled and grudgingly fell into step beside her, but not without affirming that the amusement she was garnishing from their obvious frustration would not go unpunished – later...when they were cleaner.
Hermione squeezed in between the two and through her arms around their shoulders, displacing dirt and bits of leaves that had settled on their robes. She looked between her two best friends with pursed lips as if deciding whether or not to speak.
"You know," She began, clearing her throat. "I must say, I'm really proud of you two for picking out your Halloween costumes early this year."
" 'ermione!" Ron exclaimed.
Hermione darted forward, laughing merrily as she dodged Harry's hands trying to grab a hold of her. With red-tinged cheeks she attempted to regain her breathe while she danced tauntingly just out of reach.
"I can't believe it, 'Arry!" Ron exclaimed, incredulously. "Our own best mate turned on us."
Harry nodded gravely and gave a dramatic sigh, "I guess saving you from a beastly troll doesn't amount to much these days..." He trailed off wistfully, with Ron shaking his head beside him.
Hermione clicked her tongue against her teeth, "Oh, stop being such a pair of drama wizards."
The warmth was still in her face and her cheeks dimpled as she put her fists on her hips, "I was just poking a little fun. I couldn't help it. I mean look at you!"
She gesture emphatically at their disheveled appearance. "You look like a pair of uprooted mandrakes!"
"Look at 'er...making jokes at our expense." Ron said dismayed. "It's just sick – isn't, Harry?"
Harry nodded automatically, "Disgusting."
Hermione snickered and rolled her eyes, "Come on you two. I'm starving and I'm not going to listen to your dramatics on an empty stomach."
Harry and Ron cracked the grins they'd been hiding and jogged up to her. She shook her head at them, smiling softly. "Honestly, I don't know why I'm friends with you." The trio linked arms and proceeded towards the Great Hall.
Ron gave a lopsided grin, "It's 'cause you love us, Hermione."
She fought down a grin, trying to give the appearance of bored aloofness. "Oh, that's right!" She exclaimed dryly, as if suddenly remembering. "Your humor."
Harry laughed out loud, drawing Hermione in as well. Ron pouted only a moment longer before he was laughing along with them and together they disappeared into the Great Hall.
"Ginny, dear, could you pass me the chicken, please?"
Hermione relieved the younger girl of the meat-laden platter and set it down in an open space in front of her. As she moved the chicken from the tray to her plate, Hermione looked around the buzzing dining hall and felt warmth spread all the way down to her toes. Hogwarts looked alive once more.
The tables were near full to bursting with the addition of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. They were no longer "house tables" for the students were scrambling just to get a seat at all. Some didn't even get that and scattered students, wearing the colors of all three schools, were lounged out on the cobblestones in small groups chatting and eating; not caring that they were sans the usual table and benches.
It was a sight Hermione thought she'd never see again.
"Hey, 'Mione!" Ron called. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the combined conversations rising throughout the Great Hall. "You done with the chicken?"
Hermione nodded and leaned back slightly so he could lift it away. Catching Fleur's eye as she did so, Hermione waved to the older woman seated unashamedly upon the floor down by the teacher's table. Fleur flashed her dazzling white teeth and raised an elegant hand in return before turning back to the Hufflepuff talking animatedly beside her.
She turned back to her own friends and found Harry's eyes on her. He looked down at his plate and she found him to be picking absently at his dinner roll. Her forehead creased slightly. Harry was rarely quiet during dinner. "Harry?" She ventured. "Harry, is something wrong?"
She placed her hand over his, if not to comfort him than, if nothing else, to save that poor dinner roll.
"I'm just wondering why you're out of bed, Hermione."
Hermione had to strain her ears to hear his reply – his normal voice was far too quiet for the new atmosphere of the Great Hall.
"You need to rest—"
"Harry, I'm fine." Hermione interrupted. She squeezed his hand, "Really."
The flickering light from the candles levitating above them made his face look strained, "But—"
Hermione's nose wrinkled and she withdrew her hand so she could lift her goblet of pumpkin juice, "Let's talk about something else, Harry." She suggested, taking a drink.
He smiled slowly, "Like what?"
She laughed and wiped her mouth dry on her napkin. "Like that twig hanging from your hair," She chuckled, leaning forward to pull the offending object from his bangs.
Harry groaned and ran his hands through his hair, succeeding only in brushing a large handful of outdoor debris onto the once immaculate white tablecloth. Hermione pursed her lips and gave him a disapproving look. He had the decency to look sheepish.
"Sorry, 'Mione."
Her expression softened and she hesitated a moment before leaning across the table and pressing her lips lightly to his cheek. She pulled back, flushing light pink at Harry's dumbfounded expression. He stared at her in shock, his mouth half open.
"Thank you, Harry." She murmured. "For worrying about me."
Hermione cleared her throat, regaining her composure, and stood. "I'm going to head up and get started on my homework."
Harry was still in shock, but he was quickly broken from his stupor when Ron elbowed him painfully in the ribs. Harry jumped in his seat and turned to glare at his friend, while rubbing at his sore side. Ron was less than impressed; he kept motioning to Hermione with his head, but Harry stubbornly refused to look up at her. It seemed Ginny had witnessed the exchange as well for she gave Hermione a mischievous wink.
Harry's face was turning red.
Hermione shook her head slightly and chuckled softly at the entire scenario, but there was still a pink tinge to her cheeks. "Goodnight, everyone." She said loudly, informing them of her departure.
Hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder she gave the table a short wave before starting off to her rooms at a swift pace.
"Come on, mate..." Ron whispered beside him. Harry looked confused.
"What?"
"Go after her!" Ron hissed, growing obviously irritated with his friend's amazing show of stupidity.
"What!" Harry hissed back, "No way!"
"Ron's right," Ginny joined in. "You're not just gonna let her walk away are you? Not after that?"
"I don't know what you two are going on about – there's nothing happening between us." Harry insisted.
Ron glanced down the hall. Hermione had nearly reached the doors, but it seemed she'd stopped for a moment to talk with Krum who was sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table.
"Don't tell me you're that dense!" Ginny was exclaiming. "Of course it meant something."
Harry gave her an unconvinced look, "It was just a thank you."
"Yeah!" Ginny shot back, as if he'd just proved her case for her. "A thank you she could have easily just said and left it at that. Were you watching the same kiss I was?"
"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, "Would you just go already!"
Harry rolled his eyes and stood up. Scooping his bag up from beneath the bench he hung it over his shoulder and stepped out into the aisle. "Alright, I'm going." He relented. "Not because you told me to or because of your childish theory that Hermione has any feelings towards me other than friendship, but because I have homework." He insisted.
Ginny sighed, "She's gone."
Harry's head immediately turned to the large oak doors at the opposite end of the hall, and he watched them close shut behind a swirl of black robes and a head of auburn curls.
Hermione sighed and set aside her eagle quill. She stretched her arms above her head and was rewarded with a satisfying pop. Three rolls of parchment for Potions comparing the Polyjuice Potion to Transfiguration spells. She had just finished. One more roll than Snape had requested, but then again she'd always been an overachiever she supposed. She glanced out the window. Dark.
It was time.
She sat up and began to recollect her school things. She re-corked her inkwell and returned it and her quill to her beside table. Her potions textbook was dropped back into her satchel, and the others were set neatly back on the shelf above her desk. She rolled up the first two parchments containing her potion's essay, but left the third stretched open to dry, and dropped the twine-tied rolls into her bag as well.
Pulling off her uniform she quickly donned a simple, black dress. It covered her arms from shoulder to wrist and had a modest box-cut neckline. It was, however, too long in the skirt and gave her a train that dragged nearly a foot behind her.
Discarding any jewelry she'd been wearing she also removed the hair tie from her hair and let the silky curls fall down her back. From her closet she retrieved a long cloak and swung it over her shoulders. It was heavy and thick and so dark that its green color could almost be mistaken for black. She fastened the clasps tightly, though her room was far from cold, and drew the cowl up over her head casting her face into shadow.
And she did this all in silence, taking great pains to make sure everything went accordingly. But her heart was also heavy and the weight kept her from speaking.
From beneath her bed she pulled a black, satin bag and slipped it carefully into her pocket before straightening. Picking up her wand she deposited that too within her pocket before climbing out her window.
"What is it Remus?" Dumbledore murmured, walking up behind the professor and peering out the window as well.
"Hermione Granger just climbed out her window." He replied impassively. He gave a half-gesture towards the Gryffindor tower and Dumbledore's eyes moved slowly up the blurred outline of the castle against the dark backdrop to where a shadowed form was making its way effortlessly down the stone walls.
"Hmm," Albus muttered. "It was probably best I make this announcement in her absence."
Lupin pulled his eyes from the tower and turned to question the Headmaster, but the elderly man was already shuffling down the hallway and out of sight.
Hermione dropped the last few feet off the vine-covered trellis and landed in a crouch to deaden the shock of landing. Her hand drifted to her pocket reassuring herself that its contents were safe and sound before starting across the grounds. The wind was violent, threatening to knock her over with every step. It twisted her hair into frenzied patterns and painful knots and blew it over her eyes so that she could not see. Even a cloak as heavy as her own was lifted off the ground, billowing and snapping loudly behind her.
But her steps were slow; there was no need to hurry. The destination would still be there no matter if the journey took minutes or days. The thought comforted her little and she found herself dragging her feet wishing to continue the journey for as long as she could. But that could not stop the inevitable end from reaching her. It was time.
With the lake to her back and the forbidden forest spread out before her she stopped. Her legs would carry her no further.
She didn't try to move; didn't force her feet forward. She just stood there. Waiting.
"Excuse me for this interruption, but I have an announcement to make. Most of you probably already know about the incident that happened here early this morning. For those of you who don't I shall give you the barest summary. I'm sure there are others who can fill in the necessary details. At approximately two-thirty this morning, the Durmstrang ships, bearing students from both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang along with our own Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, were attacked by Voldemort's own ship as they arrived at Hogwarts. It is likely this battle would have resulted in the tragic loss of many lives if not for the efforts of one girl."
Hermione took in a deep breath and crossed the undrawn line. The fresh-tilled earth was soft beneath her bare feet, sinking with each step she took. Wraithlike, she glided through the cool dirt; mute and unwavering. She reached the forest's edge and gathered into her arms dead wood and branches that had been blown down. When she could carry no more she returned the way she came and deposited her burden.
With great care she fashioned a crude pyramid of sticks and logs ringed with smooth stones she gathered from the water's edge. Taking a step back from her creation, Hermione kneeled in the dirt and pulled from within her robes the black satin bag from her room. She undid the drawstrings and drew forth a tiny wooden box. This too she opened and into her open hand poured a fine, white sand.
She murmured a few words to bless the sand clenched in her fingers, but the wind carried them away. Raising the sand above the stick temple she'd built for it, she uncurled cold fingers and let the white rain down. She drew forth her wand and moved back several paces.
"Incendio!"
The small, pitiful pile of kindling ignited instantly exploding upwards in giant flames fed by the mysterious white powder. Heat washed over her and she closed her eyes. It warmed her body, but not her heart. She waited for the color to return to her skin, before turning away from the bonfire that continued to rage.
Stooping down to pick up a piece of extra firewood she dug a ball of twine from the satin bag and began to lash another piece across it. With numbing fingers she continued her work, beginning again and again until she was finished.
Picking up half the pile, she moved to the far corner. To the first. Laying down all save one, she lifted the heavy rock she'd taken from the lake and slowly began to pound the first wooden cross into the ground.
"Because of her, not a single loss from our side occurred. She fought valiantly and at the risk of her own life to defend this castle and all of you inside of it. Now you must ask yourselves: How many times have you passed this young woman in the hallways and spared her a simple 'hello'? How many times have you took part in some joke at her expense? How many of you don't even know her face? I do not judge you your past transgressions. You are but children...trying to find your way."
And when she was finished, thirty-one lasting crosses stood naked in the wind to mark the graves of those who had fallen. They were unadorned, save for the twine that bound them and the different names carved painstakingly into each cross-arm.
A name for every cross.
Hermione swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. It would never stop making her heart ache – knowing that twenty two of those crosses were her own doing. She sniffed loudly into the wind and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She could feel the heat of the fire on her back as it roared in the wind behind her.
"Their sense of duty was no less than yours, Hermione."
She whirled around in surprise, the cowl of her cloak falling back slightly, "Draco!"
He walked up to stand beside her. His hands were wedged tight in the pockets of his black slacks. He was only wearing a navy blue jumper, but the cold didn't seem to bother him. Hermione started at him dumbfounded. He gazed out upon the graves for a long moment before he spoke again.
Dropping into a crouch he ran his hand along the rough wooden marker. He sighed and the wind carried it away.
"I wonder what their names are..." He scooped a handful of dirt into his hand and let it sift out through his fingers. "Where they came from..."
"I know their names..."
Draco stood and turned around to face her. Hermione stared off into the forest, where the trees melted into shadows and the shadows became trees, and let the tears roll down her face.
"I know the names of their family," She said without turning. "I know where they came from. I know their birthdays. I know their favorite color. I know that Micheal was going to name his baby girl Penelope – after his grandmother. I know that Jacob hit a tiny blue jay with his bicycle when he was eight and after that he never rode again."
She turned to look at him, her wide amber eyes filled with tears. "I know that Jina's watched Gone With the Wind at least a hundred times, but it still makes her cry every time."
"Oh, God," Draco whispered. He was in shock. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I...I didn't know..."
Hermione shook her head and rubbed roughly at her eyes. "No, Draco. It's not your fault."
She lowered herself down onto the ground and patted the grass beside her, "Come sit down, Draco." She sniffled, "I promise I won't cry anymore."
Draco looked down at Hermione, sitting in front of a bonfire and trying her best to wipe the tear stains from her cheeks, and realized for the first time how very small she was. He saw what the murder of these people had done to her. She'd lost a piece of her soul – a piece that no matter how hard she tried, nor how far she looked, she never be able to find again. She'd never been completely whole.
Hermione hadn't wished this fate upon herself – it had been thrust upon her. And she was buckling under the weight. Draco sat himself down beside her and pulled her into her arms. He'd decided in that split instant that he'd protect her. Always.
No matter what anyone else thought, that night he'd seen her soul as clearly as if she'd woven it into the emerald cloak laying draped around her shoulders. His grip on her tightened and he buried his face in her torrent of curls.
She was no monster.
No...it was far worse...
She was an angel trapped in hell.
"I wonder..." Hermione whispered into his neck. "If in their hearts...they truly were evil."
"I don't know, Hermione." Draco whispered back. "I can't say what lies or threats led them from their homes. Of if they wouldn't rather have stayed there."
It didn't matter why he was there. He was there all the same, and Hermione clung to him. All their anger was gone now.
They'd gone back.
There in Draco's arms, Hermione had led them back to the way things were before. Her heart felt whole again. Draco was here. Everything was going to be alright.
"I have to let them know, Draco." She told him in a hushed voice, "They need to understand."
She pulled away from him and dragged herself to her knees before the first row of crosses – haunting reminders of the cost of war. But those wooden symbols were still memorials. The ground was now cleansed of darkness and protected by the power of spirit and faith. It had been part of the debt she was here to repay.
"You may not all know Hermione Granger, but know this: A very brave young woman laid down her life for you today – you who mock her, those who ignore her, those who cannot match her name to a face in the room – simply because it was the right thing to do. She held no grudge, no petty rivalry, fighting bravely to protect every single one of you. Such an act is something some of you may never understand, and the age we now live in is partially to blame. But for all her courageousness, this young woman lost a piece of herself defending us; a piece she can never get back."
"It is said...that the dead can hear your thoughts." She voiced into the darkness. It made no reply. "I don't know if that's true or not, but..." She trailed off. This isn't the way she wanted to do this – this wasn't what she'd come to say.
She had to explain it. They had to understand; understand why they'd lost their lives. The wind was howling in her ears.
"I have all this power." She started softly, "I didn't ask for it. I don't deserve it. But...I can't escape it."
Her amber eyes traveled over the silent graveyard and the wind seemed to not blow so furiously, the cold seemed no longer so bone-chilling. She could feel Draco beside her. Drawing up her strength she went on. "I feel like I'm worse than everyone else, honestly. It's truce, that I'm so far beneath them...my friends, my family."
"I feel like I'm not worthy of their love." Her voice cracked. "Because even though they love me, it doesn't mean anything...b-because their opinions don't matter." Tears rolled down her cheeks and her words were coming out in sobs. "They don't know. How could they possibly? They haven't been through what I've been through. They're not some bloody Messiah. I am."
Hermione buried her face in her hands, "This whole thing is just all too much. I feel...I feel like it's going to swallow me whole."
Tears rolled down her cheeks as Draco pulled her sobbing into his arms.
"I had once hoped that none of you would have to experience what it was like to kill another human being. But these are evil times. Even I cannot foresee the extent to which good people will be pushed. This morning Miss Granger was pushed. She was forced to question every truth she'd ever known. Her morals and ethics told her that killing another human being was wrong. Her instincts told her 'kill or be killed'...Hope told her to save the world. And all the while the poor, confused seventeen year old girl was trapped; being pulled in every direction. Remember today. Today a young woman gave a piece of herself so that your lives would be saved. There can be no return to innocence...for Hermione Granger."