Title: An Inevitable Fate
Chapter Thirty Five: Warm Blood, Burning Fire
Author: KissThis
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Rating: PG-13
Pairing: No one in particular in this chapter; D/Hr in the next
Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.
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Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but these tasty s'mores I just made!
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A/N: Sorry it took so long, but I've been busy and more than a little disheartened by the lack of reviews and the sad content of those I got. I'm not saying it's all of you, but there are some out there who are complaining about the lack of romance in my story. I'm sorry you guys feel that way, but I assure there will be definite D/Hr in later chapters. But not now! There is such a thing as a plot line, and just because you want it now doesn't mean I can just pencil that into said plot.
Also, if you look at my story it's listed first as action/adventure, and second as romance. I'm sorry if that makes you sad, but there are HUNDREDS probably even THOUSANDS of one-shot D/Hr love stories that you can read. I mean no offense, but I am writing this story for myself. If I was so very concerned or interested in pleasing others I would be writing more challenges.
Now, if you have "suggestions" rather than demands, I'd be happy to take them into consideration – such as the one given to me by Avelynn Tame. (I love your reviews so very much and I love reading them. Thank you so much for taking the time to write them out for me – I can never wait to read them after every update. Cookies and Love, Kiss This)
Enjoy the show!
Staring down at her, only inches from her face, were the glittering eyes of a dragon. A Norwegian Ridgeback to be exact. A Norwegian Ridgeback named 'Norbert' to be very exact. And standing beside him was none other than Charlie Weasley.
Hermione just stared. She couldn't think of anything else to do. Charlie must have taken her silence for shock because he let out a loud amused laugh, his cheeks dimpling.
"Not happy to see me?"
She wasn't shocked. She was just tired. Bursting through two plus feet of ice would do that to you. His laughing at her wasn't helping either. "I nearly drowned just now so excuse me for not baking you a bloody cake." Now she was tired and irritated.
His laughter died, but he was still smiling – all the way up to his eyes. She might have thought him cute if she wasn't so tired. His bare hands were moving idly across the scales of Norbert's neck in a soothing manner that to the trained eye proved he was a well experienced dragons expert. It meant that he had gained Norbert's trust. The scaled armor-plating of dragons was like any suit of armor – it had cracks. Weaknesses. One of the weak spots was the neck and throat all the way up to beneath the jaw. It was a simple gesture in appearance, but if Hermione ever laid a hand there she wouldn't have it anymore.
Her eyes moved up to meet Norbert's faceted ones. He looked almost happy to see her. So, perhaps not.
"My mum was right."
Hermione's eyes moved slowly to look at Charlie. Her face moved the mere fraction of an inch. Just because she didn't know what was happening didn't mean she was stupid. She needed to conserve her energy; even if it was borrowed from the school's pet squid. Waste not, want not.
"You're different," he finished.
"Every day," She replied.
"Miss Granger!"
She didn't turn, but waited for Moody to come to her. Once his weathered face was in her peripheral vision, she expended the energy to smile at him. He'd have rather died than admit it, but she saw the tension leak away at the simple gesture.
"Jesus H. Christ, lass!" He said. "I thought we'd lost you. Tell me what the hell happened?"
He didn't phrase it in the most caring of ways, but Hermione could sense his concern. It cloaked him like an aura. No color, just a feeling. It floated an inch above his skin, and she was near enough that the edge of it brushed across her arm. The faintest of breaths. She could taste his panic.
Her eyes widened and, despite her better judgment, she shook her head furiously to knock that feeling away. As if sensing her fear and distress, Moody's aura folded back in on itself until it was no longer within her sensory range.
"I do not feel too well," She said quietly, her sarcasm and cynicism falling away. Underneath it all she was still Hermione Granger. And Hermione Granger was never disrespectful to her elders.
Charlie didn't know her well enough; he was still smiling. Moody frowned but turned and started for Tonks; he'd missed the meaning as well. Hermione's hand snaked up and touched his arm in a rare gesture of frailty. Moody's surprise washed over her. His good eye turned to her while the magical one remained fixed on Norbert. Apparently he didn't believe in docile dragons.
Hermione opened her eyes to him, letting him see what she wanted him to see. Fatigue, confusion, and truth. For a split-second she let the panic and fear slip into her amber eyes before she swallowed it up. If Moody had noticed he didn't make any indication of it. He let out a deep breath, which surprised Hermione, then cleared his throat.
"How bad is this thing?" His voice was still gravely and hoarse. Hermione Granger never quit unless something was real bad.
Hermione's hand dropped to her side and a tiny jolt rushed through her as she pulled away from his aura. Now that she was no longer in direct contact it made it easier to think. Some of those thoughts went along the lines of 'what the hell is happening to me', but she didn't voice them.
She debated over how much to tell of her condition. Too much and she would appear weak before Moody and that meant weak before the Order; too little and he might not know enough to help her. She hesitated a moment, then regretfully pushed bravado aside. She went for the truth.
"I don't think I can move from this spot," She said evenly.
Charlie's smile dropped. She didn't see it, but rather felt it. Her body was still awkwardly turned towards Moody; torso twisted, head tilted slightly, eyes wide and unguarded. He stared at her, his scared face a mask of perfect blankness. Then he turned away and let out a low hiss.
"You, boy!"
He was talking to Charlie.
"Don't just stand there with that stupid look on your face or just your luck a Death Eater will hex it right off. Go summon the Order from their bloody afternoon tea."
Charlie nodded and pulled his wand from the back pocket of his jeans. Moody barked something about 'losing a buttocks' which made Hermione smiled.
"And do something about that dragon," He growled.
"Hagrid," Hermione murmured before Charlie could pose the question.
Hagrid would love to see Norbert again. He had, after all, raised the Ridgeback from an egg; but some silly law had made doing so quite illegal. Hermione would have like to have been there when Hagrid was reunited with his 'Norby', but some things were more important at the moment. She'd find out why Charlie was here later.
Moody turned his attention back to her. Good. She liked having attention on her when she felt like she was going to pass out. Apparently the fire and sword routine had drained her more than she'd thought. Charlie was walking briskly across the grounds – how he was summoning the Order she had no idea – with Norbert thundering slowly beside him.
"What the blast is going on?" He demanded. It was a bit too much of an order than Hermione cared for, but she answered anyways. Maybe it was because she knew she wasn't getting back to the castle under her own power.
"I don't know, sir." She said finally. "I have only the vaguest idea, and I think it best if I explain to the whole Order."
He was fishing around in his lumpy robe pockets. She saw a flash of silver as he unbuttoned his coat to reach the inside pockets. A hip flask. Moody never left home without it.
"You're eating ain'tcha?" He continued to search his jacket, but his magical eyeball swiveled to look at her.
Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. That uses energy. It was also impolite. She wanted to say something along the lines of not being anorexic, but that brought her back to the whole rudeness idea. She settled for, "Yes, sir.", instead.
Just thinking of eating made her flash back to the massive amount of food she'd consumed at lunch. And sitting on the top was a delicious piece of chocolate cake. Her mouth nearly salivated at the thought of the food, but her stomach flip-flopped for the same reason. She still couldn't believe she'd consumed half the Gryffindors' buffet.
There was a crinkling of foil and something solid dropped into her hand. She looked down. It was a hunk of chocolate. Her insides rolled.
"Eat it. Helps."
Hermione seriously doubted it. She doubted it would even make it halfway down her throat before she lost it all over the grass. But she ate it anyways, because that was the polite thing to do. Amazingly enough, the first bite went down and stayed down. The energy it took to eat the chocolate was quickly being replaced by a warm, pleasant buzzing in the pit of her stomach.
"We should get up to the castle before the rest of the Phoenix arrives," She murmured. "I'd rather not have them see me carried into the meeting."
Their eyes met and a mutual feeling of pride was shared. One tough guy to another. She couldn't lose face in front of the Order; they barely followed her slight leadership as it was. He nodded. He understood. Hermione took another larger bite of chocolate and willed it down before starting the walk back up to the castle. It seemed a lot farther away than it had been coming down.
Just one foot in front of the other...
Moody had ended up levitating her into Dumbledore's office, but not before she'd made it nearly to the castle's front doors. She'd struggled to open the massive oak doors – a feat in itself on a normal day – but collapsed with the effort upon the stone steps. She'd been settled comfortably in a plush armchair with a fresh block of Honeyduke's chocolate before any of the other members arrived.
As they filed into Dumbledore's office they gave her curious glances, but didn't say anything more than a few words of greeting. They must have assumed that she was the reason the emergency meeting had been called. It was a natural assumption; every time they'd been called since the beginning of the school year had had something to do with her. Why stop when she was on a roll.
Hermione smiled to herself and curled up on the chair beneath the warm woolen afghan draped across her waist. Steam curled up around her chin and she turned her gaze to see Professor McGonagall holding out a cup of tea. She murmured a quiet thanks and accepted the offered drink.
She clutched the small cup between both her hands, but did not drink. The burning heat seeped out through her curved palms and down her wrists melting away just before the bend of her arms. Staring down into the calm liquid she looked hard upon her own reflection. No longer smiling her face looked lean and ghostly.
"Miss Granger?" The soft voice made the statement a question asking for her attention.
She blinked and shifted her eyes to look up at Professor Lupin. The angle was rather painful for her eyes and after a moment they began to twitch slightly from the effort of holding them there. When Lupin saw that she was not going to turn her face towards him, he gathered his shabby robes about him and knelt beside the chair, one hand on the arm to steady him. Her eyes moved with him.
"Hello, Professor Lupin," She replied just as softly. "Did Draco give you my letter?"
His hand drifted unconsciously over his robe pocket then dropped back to his knee. Hermione's eyes darted downwards at the movement, and she had no doubt she'd find her letter in that pocket should she choose to look.
"Yes," He took in a deep breath and something warm brushed her face. "I read your letter, but I didn't know what to make of it until I talked to a few people."
She watched his face carefully, but remained silent. There was more.
"I've gathered all the information on Hope that the Ministry and Order have compiled over the years," She saw him pull a very thick manila folder from his bag. It was rubber-banded shut to keep things from falling out. He handed it to her without waiting for her to ask.
"None of it's good."
Hermione took the file wordlessly. Almost as if she didn't want to see what was inside, her fingers trailed along the edges, hovered over the rubber band. Then she pulled the band off with a sharp elastic noise and opened the folder. She flipped through the papers not bothering to read anything more than a few headings. She didn't have the time to read through the thick file before the meeting started, and she had a good idea that Lupin would be giving an explanation of most of the folder's contents.
She stopped on an official looking document. At the top left corner the emblem of the Ministry was embossed in gold. Lupin was still kneeling beside her chair, waiting for her to finish browsing through the folder. She looked between him and the papers.
"You mentioned you have Ministry information?" There was a questioning lilt to her voice that made the statement into more of a question.
Lupin's gray-blue eyes widened. Surprised that she had more interest in where the information was from than that none of it boded well for her current condition, it took him a moment to swallow his shock and answer her question. She waited patiently, fingers resting lightly on the stacked parchments.
"Yes," He replied after a moment. "They had a great deal more to contribute than anything the Order has uncovered so far. They have, after all, existed since ancient times when Hope first appeared."
Hermione's hands cupped her tea and raised it to her lips as if she would drink. She did not. "There's no way you could have gathered all this information in eight hours, Professor."
He avoided her eyes, turning instead to look at the file's contents. The heading of the top-most paper read 'RESTRICTED' in capital letters. He didn't answer, which was unusual for the mild-mannered lycanthrope. He was the most polite person Hermione had ever meant. When you asked a question, he answered it.
"May I have everyone's attention, please? Let us call this meeting of the Phoenix to order." Dumbledore's voice carried over the hushed conversation, and Hermione glanced at the elderly man sitting behind his desk.
She felt Lupin rise and turned her attention back. The warmth brushed her face again, but she didn't move away from his aura. When it had happened with Moody she'd been terrified, but now she was more unnerved by the fact that she could taste her Professor's emotions in the back of her throat. Her mouth had been filled with fear since he'd come to stand beside her. Whatever he'd found out had made him very afraid.
The conversation was dying away and she pulled up a blank mask that showed no feeling. Her quiet voice caught her professor as effectively as if it had been her hand on his sleeve, "I sincerely hope you have done nothing outside the law to give me this information."
The emptiness she exuded unnerved him, and his aura spiked around her in a defensive motion. Warm electricity jolted down her arms, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She fought the urge to scream.
"It is not how I acquired this information, but what this information holds that is important, Miss Granger. You will understand how serious this matter is in a few moments."
He said this in a whispered voice, as most of the Order's attention had turned to them in the silence of Dumbledore's words. He pulled away from the grip of her eyes and moved near the center of the room to wait before it was his turn to speak. Hermione watched him go, the blank look never leaving his face.
Shit. He'd stolen the information. Shit. Shit. Shit. Her fingers tightened convulsively around the teacup. She'd gotten her law-abiding Professor into doing something very illegal. She caught her reflection in the mirror across the room and shivered, suddenly cold despite the afghan. The blank and empty mask of her face frightened her.
Somebody was talking. It was Draco. She hadn't seen him come in. She blinked her eyes groggily, trying to focus again. She'd slipped away staring into the mirror. The faint buzzing of Draco's voice became clearer and she could hear what he was saying.
"...I didn't read the letter. I just gave it to Professor Lupin and that's all I know about what's happening. I'm sure he'll have more to tell you."
He was a bit blurred in her vision, but Hermione watched him lean back against the wall having said his piece. Judging by the fact that his face wasn't covered in boils she knew he was telling the truth about not reading the letter. It had been for Professor Lupin's eyes only.
She realized that everyone was looking at her, waiting. She blinked away the glassy look in her eyes. She put the emptiness back inside them.
"Miss Granger?"
"There's more." She said softly.
Her breathing was getting labored. She needed more chocolate. She set down her cup on the side table and had to nearly pry her fingers from it. There was an intake of breath from those closest to her. The undersides of her hands were bright pink from clutching the steaming cup. First degree burns. The chocolate didn't tremble in her hands as she lifted it and took a bite. Point for her.
"Tell 'em what happened, lass." Moody growled.
She did.
The room was silent. She couldn't look at her friends. Her eyes remained fixed on Professor Lupin. He was looking down at the floor staring at nothing. Hermione knew he was thinking about what she'd told them, thinking how it fit into his theory of what was wrong with her.
He looked up then, as if sensing her gaze upon him like it was something heavy that could be felt, and her face was still its unwavering blankness. She didn't want them to see what she felt. Lupin tried to pull the emotion from his face, but he hadn't been through the horrors she had. He'd never learned how. His eyes were still readable; deep and clear and sad.
"Professor Lupin, would you please share what you've found out?" Dumbledore murmured.
"Of course," Lupin murmured. He stepped into the room a little farther, and made several superfluous gestures trying to compose himself.
Hermione cleared her throat, and she could have sworn the man jumped. "Professor, please," She whispered into the silence. "I cannot get out of this chair. My condition isn't getting any better."
One of the boys reached for her hand, but she pulled them both into her lap and out of reach. She wasn't going to be weak. She didn't need comfort.
Lupin took a ragged breath, "I suppose I shall just cut to the chase then?"
Hermione wasn't entirely sure he was expecting an answer, but she answered all the same, "That would be appreciated, thank you."
"It's...bad news," He told her quietly. It was as if no one else was in the room. As if there weren't thirty plus people waiting with bated breath to hear if their one hope for this war was gone.
"I held no delusions that it would be anything but," She answered, in the same hushed voice.
He nodded sharply, and Hermione braced herself for the awful truth. Her blank expression wavered, but she kept it firmly in place. The only sign of her distress was the fistfuls of blue afghan clutched in her fingers.
"Whatever line that has kept yours and Hope's consciousnesses separate is disappearing. That's what your dreams are. Her memories. Her memories are becoming yours as yours are becoming Hers. Soon that line will be completely gone and you will become a single entity."
Hermione swallowed slowly, "Whose consciousness will become dominant?"
He didn't answer. That was the second time. At least she knew why now. He kept staring at her with those sad, gray eyes. Pleading, begging her forgiveness. She couldn't stand it. She looked away.
"Professor?"
Something passed over his eyes, "I do not know..."
Hermione pressed on, "But you assume Hope?" She made it a question.
He closed his eyes. He didn't want to see her face when he said it. "Yes," he whispered.
There was a sharp intake of breath from around the room, and Hermione could feel their eyes on her. Boring into her. But she wouldn't let them see what she was feeling. Her amber eyes stared fixatedly on the patches of Professor Lupin's robes, as she willed herself not to cry.
I'm note going to cry. I'm not going to cry. I'M NOT GOING TO CRY!
She forced her lips to part. They were stuck together from dryness and lack of use. She licked her lips and struggled to keep her pulse from leaping out of her throat. Her teeth hurt when she swallowed. She hadn't realized she'd been clenching them to keep from hyperventilating.
"Why?" She asked quietly into the silence following her professor's words. The single word was wispy and her voice trembled slightly as she spoke. Damn it.
Lupin was looking at her with growing confusion. She elaborated.
"Why is this 'line' disappearing?" This time her voice was firm and unwavering. No emotion but mild curiosity. Brownie points for her.
"Hope is dying," He replied.
"Why?" She asked again.
It didn't seem the least bit odd that she and Lupin were the only ones talking, but her professor seemed a little more uncomfortable with the Order's silence. This was unusual. Her professor never seemed out of sorts in any situation. She frowned inwardly and the beginnings of panic began to flutter in her stomach. This was bad...
He took another deep breath, "She is dying because you refused to completely bond with Her; refused to let Her take over your body. Without the strength that bond brings She cannot focus Her powers and therefore cannot sustain Her own life-force. It is what has caused you to eat in excessive amounts and feel dizzy and faint. She is siphoning energy from you."
This is your fault...
Hermione's head twitched to the side, Hope's voice ringing in her ears.
"Like a parasite..." She murmured.
"A less complicated analogy, but yes, very much like that. It's very likely that She was the one upholding the 'line'. Now, with barely enough energy to keep Herself alive, the separation of your consciousnesses is...fading."
"But what if I can't keep this up? I could eat all day and She'd still be taking energy faster than I could produce it." As if to illustrate her point dizziness swept through her. The soft armchair was a steadying weight at her back as she leaned against it and closed her eyes. The teacup rattled as her fingers brushed it. She searched blindly for the remaining chocolate, not trusting herself to open her eyes. If she did, she'd be sick.
"I don't know..." Lupin replied truthfully.
He seemed to be saying a lot of that lately. Foil crinkled and she took a gratifying bite of sugary chocolate. That warm tingling buzz filled her stomach and she waited a moment longer before tentatively opening her eyes. The room spun a bit, but the taste of bile was gone from her mouth.
"What's going to happen to me, Professor?"
"I don't know."
STOP SAYING THAT! Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she willed them away facing the silent room with a cold and empty face.
"Can't she join with Hope now?"
"NO!" Hermione shouted, anger replacing her self-pity. It was the first time she'd raised her voice since the meeting's outset.
Ron had taken a step back. The freckles on his pale face stood out like ink blots. He was staring at her with wide eyes. She unleashed her anger like you'd unleash a rabid dog. It roared through her and she pushed it out at him like she would push with her hands. She pushed him away, towards the wall. He took a shaky step back as if he'd been physically shoved back. The hairs on his arms were standing on end.
Even from here, Ron's surprise was so strong that she could taste it, taste his fear. The anger was good – it was her solace and her shield.
There was a low sigh behind her, and she spun her face around to see Professor Lupin take a step closer. She caught site of her face in the mirror. The mask had been broken. Her reflection snarled back at her, ugly and twisted with rage.
"I'm not entirely sure it would do any good, even if it's not too late," Lupin said slowly. He was cautious of her; she could taste that too.
"But there's still a chance, right? Why not take it?"
It was Harry who had spoken this time. Ron couldn't seem to find the words. Harry wasn't cautious or afraid. He stared straight at her showing her the concern and worry in his eyes. He was pleading with her to give in.
Hermione hadn't ever gotten this angry in so long a time. It had felt good for a few moments, to release her tightly controlled emotions, but she was already beginning to regret how she had treated Ron. The anger pulled back, and even her skin felt cooler. The term 'hot with anger' was very real. She was ashamed of what she had just done. She swore to apologize to him afterwards.
She took another bite of chocolate, this time for comfort rather than strength. She was feeling emotionally drained, not physically.
"No," She whispered again. Her voice back to its soft, low octave, "There's a reason why I didn't join with Hope in the beginning, Harry. I won't let Her take me now, just because my life is at risk. It is my body and she cannot have it."
He was down at her side so quickly she had to crane her neck backwards at a painful angle to keep from banging heads. The chocolate dropped from her fingers as he grabbed her hand between two of his own. He was scanning her face earnestly and she allowed her startlement to seep through the mask.
"Please, Hermione," He pleaded. His thumb was rubbing patterns across the back of her hand. She looked up to his eyes and saw, with surprise, that they were filled with tears. "You're not the only one with something to lose here. I couldn't bear it if I lost you...not when there's a chance that you could have been saved..."
His voice was so quiet she knew no one else could hear him. He sounded so lost. It was then that she realized; Harry was the only one who seemed to truly grasp the reality in Professor Lupin's words.
When Hope's consciousness took over she would, in effect, die.
She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry; cry until her face was hot and wet and her eyes were puffy red. She didn't want to be here; not surrounded by people she hardly knew. She wanted to be with her friends, people who loved her. She wanted to cry.
But Harry was crying enough for the both of them. She wiped the wet trails from his cheeks with a corner of the afghan; gentle, sure strokes. It was a motherly gesture, and Harry needed that now. She brushed the bangs back from his forehead and curled her fingers around his ears to draw him gently closer. She placed the lightest of kisses atop the scar that etched his forehead and spoke with her lips against his cool skin.
"I'm sorry..." She whispered and she felt him shudder in despair beneath her touch. Tears pricked her eyes again, knowing that she was hurting him, "I cannot."
She pulled back and turned her body to shield him from most of the room so that he could pull himself together. Closed fists pressed into his eyes and cheeks as he forced the tears out. He cleared his throat and Hermione settled back into the chair.
"Worry does not empty tomorrow of sorrow. It empties today of strength," she said, loudly enough for the rest of the room to hear, but her gaze was on Harry. He would not meet her eyes as he stood and moved to stand beside Ron. "Do not be worried for me."
"I'm not dead yet," She added, a little less poetically.
This made Lupin smile. "No, of course not," he said.
Hermione nibbled on her chocolate and returned the smile.
"Can you stand?" he asked.
She thought about it for a moment, then swallowed and nodded. She pushed the afghan off her lap and uncurled her legs. They tingled a bit from nearly falling asleep, but they held her weight as she swung them off the chair and stood.
"Come and stand beside me," he instructed and she did, fidgeting slightly, but grateful that she was standing at all.
The old Hermione Granger surfaced as he began to pour a circle around her. She watched with undisguised curiosity as the unnaturally white sand fell upon the polished wood. Lupin caught her intense scrutiny of his movements and smiled wider.
"White sand for divination and meditation as well as truth," he explained. He left a small piece of the circle unconnected then began setting down four dark blue candles at each of the cardinal points: North, South, East, West. "Blue for prophecy, and orange for energy, seeing as how you are somewhat lacking," he finished, setting a small vibrant orange candle on either side of each blue one.
Hermione swallowed all this knowledge with interest, but her curiosity was still piqued. "Professor, why do you require ritual magic? Such things have long since become obsolete – we no longer need rituals to perform spells, just a wand and the correct phrase."
"You are correct as always, Miss Granger." Hermione's cheeks were tinged pink.
"However, we are dealing with ancient powers, and while this," he waved his arm behind him to encompass the elaborate circle, "may all turn out to be overly dramatic in the end, I'd rather be safe than sorry, wouldn't you?"
His gray eyes locked with hers, and she couldn't find the words to reply. She simply nodded.
He stepped back into the circle with a large amethyst in his hands. Dropping a pinch of salt across the open circle he closed it. Power exploded upwards and outwards over her. Hermione threw her hands up in defense and white-gold light engulfed her as her aura spiked.
"It's alright, Miss Granger." Lupin's voice seemed far away. "Nothing within this circle will harm you. You may call back your energy."
Slowly, tentatively she lowered her arms and blinked rapidly against the harsh light of the shimmering dome that engulfed them. The glow around her body dulled and sank back into her skin.
"What is wrong?" Lupin asked curiously, looking over his shoulder to see what she was staring at.
With one hand still shielding her eyes, her nose scrunched upwards in discomfort, "Can you turn down the light show? It's hurting my eyes." She growled irritably.
Lupin was looking at her with a mix of confusion and interest. He reached out beside him and placed his palm upon the wall of energy. It bowed slightly like rubber under strain and the light around his hand intensified. Hermione cursed and twisted away from the brightness.
"Ok," She muttered when the throbbing pain behind her eyes receded, "So I'm taking it that you don't see the circle?"
"No, I cannot," He answered with something akin to awe in his voice. "Feel it? Yes, surely. But, no, I see nothing."
"Can you do something about it?"
"No...but perhaps you could. You're energy appears to have greatly increased within the circle."
Hermione nodded, but when she realized he probably couldn't see the gesture with her arms up shielding her face she said: "I'll try."
She concentrated on the light dancing just past her closed eyelids and imagined the light fading and dying away to a faint shimmering sparkle. Every time the light grew brighter in her mind she made it sink away again. She willed it to fade. She waved her hand in front of her face and opened her eyes. The light was gone.
"Better?" Lupin voiced.
Hermione nodded and turned back to face him. He was holding up the large amethyst and gesturing her closer. She took two steps up to him and stopped.
"Tell me what we're about to do," She said quietly.
Lupin nodded, "I want you to actually try and access Hope's memories. I need to know how far gone the line is. Afterwards, we'll try and reconstruct it with you being its maintainer."
"But Professor, I'm in the same situation as Hope; I can barely get enough energy for myself much less enough to hold off Hope's consciousness."
He sighed, and Hermione saw for the first time all the years settle into his face. He looked tired. "I know..." He said softly, "But it's the only plan we've got."
Hermione was silent.
"The amethyst will be your focus," he explained. "It corresponds with psychic powers and protection – it's the best stone for what we're trying to accomplish."
"So it will help me focus my mind, but at the same time protect from anything dangerous that might happen?" She repeated.
"In theory."
That didn't make her feel any better. She followed her professor's instructions and searched for the silvery unicorn hair trapped within it. She looked deeper and deeper, forcing her eyes to see the thin hair that should have been impossible to see with the human eye. She wasn't sure if she found it or not before she felt herself slipping away.
She was swimming in black water, strong smooth strokes. The moon hung huge and shining, making a silver pathway on the lake. There was an emerald fringe of trees. The white skirt of her chiton twisted about her legs as she swam. She was almost to shore, but hands were pushing her back. They grabbed great fistfuls of her dark brown hair and shoved her back into the water.
The water was so warm, warm as blood. In that moment she knew why the waters were black. It was blood. She was swimming a lake of fresh, warm blood.
Hermione screamed. She was on her knees. Fingernails clawed her arms and she realized dimly they were her own. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to see, didn't want to see the blood. She could feel it dripping down her hand, thick and warm. Someone was calling her name, but if she opened her eyes then the blood would be real. Hands touched her and she shrieked, throwing them off. The men from the lake leered at her from inside her mind.
A woman's voice shouted at her in French. She didn't answer. It was hard to just think at all. A thick fog had settled in her thoughts and she could not shake it. She forced her eyes open and found that the fog was real.
Thick, black smoke surrounded her in great billowing clouds. She stared resignedly at the smoke as if she had known it would be there when she opened her eyes. The temperature was rising and beneath the dirty white, cotton shift her skin began to sweat.
She coughed as quietly as she could manage, trying to lift her hands to muffle it, but her hands were tied behind her. She'd forgotten. Smoke was filling her lungs and she coughed lightly again, not allowing the villagers gathered around her to see her discomfort. Her eyes were burning from the heat and she closed them again.
I'm sorry it had to end this way, Joan...
What good is a martyr if they are still alive, no?
Thank you.
No. Thank you for restoring hope to my people.
May your soul find peace in the afterlife, Ma Cherie...
Then the voice was gone and she was left alone, staring down at her feet where the shorn blonde locks of her hair lay strewn about the wooden stand. She closed her eyes tightly as the flames leapt higher around her, and though she had sworn she wouldn't she couldn't bite back the scream as her body burned.
Hermione shrieked again, high and feral. She couldn't stop. She gulped in short ragged breaths just to keep screaming. Her hands twisted themselves in her curls and pulled at them, unable to believe that they were still there. Tears flooded down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched down amid great sobbing screams.
The blood on her hands was hot; too hot. It burned her skin and pain flooded through her, but she was already screaming. More hands reached for her, but she flung her arm out to stop them. She didn't want to touch those hands, so she fell back onto the floor kicking out at her attackers.
"NO!" She shrieked, cutting off her terrified screams, "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
Her eyes were refusing to focus; they kept darting around the room, landing on unfamiliar faces. A hand grabbed her shoulder and she screamed. An ear-piecing, lung bursting shriek of pain...and terror.
"DON'T TOUCH ME! STAY AWAY!"
The smell of smoke filled her nostrils and the warmth of blood pooled about her waist. She wrenched herself free of the hand with a continuing scream and scrambled away, only to fall and retch upon the floor. When the dry heaving ended, she curled herself into a ball and wept.
"Hermione, please, tell me what you saw. Let me help you!"
"Blood and fire and pain," She whimpered, clutching her knees tighter to her chest. She mumbled as she rocked back and forth across the floor, "Warm blood...burning fire..."
She could feel him standing over her and fear made something in her stomach clench. Her darting eyes caught his face, but it was not the face of her professor. It was the man from the lake, rising dark and bloody from her memory. He smiled at her and she screamed again.
She threw up an arm as if to ward off a blow and frantically crab walked backwards, slipping and falling again and again in her haste to escape.
"Hermione, NO!"
The circle's light exploded outwards in a blinding explosion of sparkling energy. Shouts of surprise and pain rose from around the room as the supernova of light spread outwards.
Hermione couldn't lift her head from floorboards. There was no longer a single scrap of energy left in her body. She could feel the strength of her lungs fading, shuddering to stop. She could feel the veins in her body cease their pulsing as the beating of her heart slowly died away. She listened as each thump was followed by a longer and longer silence, her amber eyes sending bright headlights of light into the fading room...
...and she waited for death.