Chapter Two: Trouble
By : Irishsodabread
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own them….
To my reviewers: You guys give me the drive to write more, drive to which I do not have in many other things. You guys are wonderful…You guys rock to the max, and should be named the best reviewer people thing ever.. I lobe you guys….
Note: I am not going to change the first chapter where I screwed up Hermione's birthday, its too small to change and insignificant. Sorry to those who care, but to those who can be creative and ignore that little thing, thanks…
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Harry was lulled to sleep by each of the hiccupping breaths Hermione took beside him. He held her in his arms, spooning; it was his first time spooning. He woke up early the next morning, two hours earlier than usual for him. He did not try to go back to sleep though, surprisingly, Harry just laid there and stared at the tragic beauty beside him. He never really did realize how small she was until now. She was tiny, around 5'1, and very petite. He never really noticed her stature because she always held herself with a kind of dignity that you did not expect from someone so small. He watched as her eyes moved beneath their lids rapidly. She was dreaming, and Harry hoped it was something worthy of her beauty; something worthy of her time.
Harry smiled at the little wheezing sound her nose made. It was cute and endearing. He studied her face, taking advantage of the opportunity he had and made best of it. The contours of her face, the slope of her nose, the arch of her eyebrows, the shade of pink her lips held. The early morning sun was slowing shining through in the window behind her, making her hair shine with a bronze glow. It was all breathtaking to him.
Harry couldn't help but fall asleep again though, because for once in this long and treacherous life, he was happy and at peace.
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"Harry wake up-" Hermione whispered next to him. "Harry, you're going to be late for work. So unless you don't want to have Don crawling up your ass for being late, then I suggest you get your great big bum up!" He got up.
"Good morning sunshine." Hermione said to the grumpy-faced Harry. He sat at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Hermione started getting worried because he wasn't speaking. Did he not have a good night sleep? Did she seem too clingy last night? A million questions ran through her brain.
"I don't have a big bum." He said finally while running a hand through his raven hair.
"Whatever. You're just a male equivalent of Jennifer Lopez. ." She said with a slight smirk on her face. He laughed.
"What time is it?" He asked
"7:05, what time do you usually leave?"
"Normally at 7:59"
"And you wonder why you get yelled at!"
"I don't care. Don's just out to get me..." Hermione just rolled her eyes. Her friend was becoming a little too relaxed with his profession. Just because he was the savior of the wizarding world meant nothing when it came to a work ethic. She knew he needed something to get his ass into gear. "I better start getting ready."
"You should, because you're not leaving at 7:59 on my watch. 7:45 is more like it to me. I'm sure Don will throw a party for you because we all know how hard it is for you to get your ass out of bed before 7:30…"
"Damn straight." He replied simply.
"Do you want me to make you breakfast?"
"Nah... I'll just grab something. And also, why the hell would you make me breakfast? Hermione, you're a witch for god sakes. Just one flick of the wand and POW breakfast is ready."
"You sure you don't want something; because I really don't mind making them? It gives me something to do." Her mind pleaded with him to say yes. 'Just give me something to do. Please. Don't make me feel so useless...'
"Sure if you want to." He finally said.
"Eggs sound good?"
"Yea." He said before he went into the bathroom. Hermione went into the kitchen. The kitchen she rarely used. Hermione was very good at many things, but not cooking. That was her one flaw. But how hard could eggs be?
Her mother tried to teach her how to cook when Hermione was ten years old. But Hermione was such a spaz with many of the appliances that her mother just gave up after many attempts.
She buttered the pan her mother bought her when she moved out on her own; happy she remembered one thing from her mother's lessons. By the end, Hermione was pretty proud of herself. She was going to make scrambled eggs, but found that she couldn't remember if she should put milk in with them, and gave up after a couple of minutes contemplating that question. Finally she decided to make them the regular way, or whatever the technical term it was for regular eggs. Throughout this whole process, Hermione rediscovered that she really hated cooking
By the time Harry had come in, she had finally resorted to magic to make bacon and toast. She was proud of herself nonetheless for making the eggs.
"Here." Hermione handed him a plate.
"Wow, did you make all of this yourself?" He asked a little amazed.
"Yup, I made everything." Normally she didn't get any satisfaction from lying. But this time, it was bliss.
"Don't lie." Harry finally said. "I know for a fact that you can't cook Hermione. I remember when you tried to cook for Mrs. Weasley, giving her a day off. You decided to make a dinner from scratch, no magic. You're soup came out blue."
"That was the string!"
"Who uses blue string?" Harry said before taking a bite of his bacon.
"Well I made it nonetheless." After Harry gave her a look that clearly said 'I know you're lying.' To which Hermione finally gave in "Fine, not all of it is from scratch. I used magic for the bacon and toast."
"I knew-"
"But I DID make the eggs from scratch." She interjected Harry
" Really?" Harry mocked.
"Yes. I cracked the eggs and everything." Hermione had a proud smirk on her face.
"Well bravo Ms Granger, I think these are the best eggs I've ever had." Harry said as he cleaned his plate up and getting up.
"Really?"
"Nah, Hogwarts eggs were better. But yours are a close second."
"You prat." Hermione laughed, not being offended at his comment. "Have a good day at work."
"Hermione are you going to be okay?" Harry asked, concern etched in his eyes.
"Yea, I should be. I think I'll just clean up around here. I don't know. But I should be fine." He gave her a steady look "Really Harry, I should be fine."
"Ok. I'll be back later then." And at that he was out the door. She could hear the distinguishing 'pop' of him disapparating. She should be fine. Her apartment was really impenetrable now that she had new wards up. But that's only if the intruder were a wizard. She was also pretty sure a Muggle couldn't get in either.
The day was agonizingly long for Hermione. If she sat still for too long, she could feel her anxiousness just boiling inside her. Finally she decided to get to some much needed cleaning. Hermione had never been a homemaker kind of girl, hence her crappy cooking. She just never had the patience for it. Cleaning wasn't really her strong point either. Hogwarts taught her many things, like how to say, create a monkey from a fern plant, but it never taught her the importance of cleanliness, thanks to the house elves. Sure she was organized; everything was in a place where she could always find it. But her busy schedule usually did not permit her from say, cleaning the counter tops of the bathroom or washing the dishes after every use. She had much more important things to do. Whenever her mother came to visit, she would always ask what she was going to do when it was time to get married. No man wants a woman who can't keep a home Hermione dear, so you better get your act together to catch your prize' Her mother would always say in her discriminative voice. That's where Hermione usually got in fights with her dear old mother. To her mother, life consisted in the following sequence.
Birth School. Career Marriage be barefoot and pregnant by 25If the last two hadn't been achieved, then to Mrs. Granger, you were an official failure.
So Hermione kept up on her house work, cleaning and scrubbing and dusting the nooks and crannies of her apartment that she had neglected. Sure, she could do this magically, but she thought against it because it would be too simple and easy, she wanted to work today. Normally she hated this, but right now, it kept her busy and therefore kept her mind off of things.
She didn't dare stop, because soon it became addicting. Whoever thought cleaning your apartment was addicting? But to Hermione, it was necessary, not for cleanliness, but for focus. By 12:00, her apartment was miraculously clean, dusted, scrubbed, wiped and what not. But still she searched for other things to clean.
She then thought of Harry's apartment.
He was a guy
So it must be filthy.
She negotiated with herself a minute, thinking of the reasons for going and not to go clean Harry's pig pen of an apartment.
Just go. Gives you something to do than to just sit here in a miraculously clean apartment where the dirty bed sheets call out to you and taunt you.
At that notion, she almost went for the door. But then one thing came and called back to her. What about Harry? He'll get worried. He would come back to an empty apartment, thinking the worse case scenario. She knew he always thought that way, for he had lived through many terrible things, so his mind was permanently engraved with those actions.
Screw him! You need to go and clean his apartment, to stop these images, for you know sooner or later they will haunt you. Just put off the inevitable. You can leave a note for him. Everything will be fine….
Hermione finally decided to go to his apartment, even though it was a long way from Scotland. But that was one of the many luxuries of being a witch. Apparation. This took a millisecond. But first, Hermione had to write a note to her dear friend.
Harry,
I went over to your apartment, to clean.
Don't ask why.
-Hermione
After that, she gathered her muggle cleaning tools, Windex, sponge, toilet brush, and bucket, and her wand. Finally, she did the proper function that was needed to perform disapparation. There were a lot of things that went into apparating, for you have to have everything in check. Mind and body had to be in tune with each other as well as in tune with the magic. If everything was not in tip top shape, then there was a danger of being splinched, which was ever so painful.
Hermione was kind of nervous about apparating, for not everything was in sequence lately.
After concentrating, focusing on Harry's apartment, she found herself being pulled softly, and suddenly being dropped. It was then that she realized with great excitement that she had in fact not splinched herself.
Hermione gazed at her surroundings. She was correct, for Harry's apartment was disgusting. Clothes were all over, on the chairs, the couches, on the floor, everywhere.
Dishes were piled high in the sink, making Hermione wonder why he didn't just mutter a cleaning spell to get rid of all this clutter. Was he too lazy to even do that? She sincerely hoped not.
She started in the bedroom, making his bed, and picking up his dirty clothes and cleaning them with a simple spell. She decided upon entering the pig's sty that she had to use some magic on things. She dusted his bookshelf, which was filled with textbooks and quidditch books; a couple she recognized as gifts from her. Hermione dreaded going into the bathroom, for she was afraid of what she would find in there. She remembered Ginny telling her stories of her household that was packed with testosterone and un-cleanliness. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had always tried to keep the house clean, but with a house filled with 6 boys, not counting Arthur; it had always been a great and perilous effort.
Hermione had always dismissed these stories, for surely no one can be that dirty
But now she was living the nightmare.
"Oh Harry.." She sighed as she picked up a dirty wet towel on the floor bunched up the wall.
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Harry finished work at 6:30 at night, because he and his partner had a field assignment. It was outside a small wizarding community, not far from Birmingham. It appeared that two muggles and four wizards had been murdered. But the manner of their demise confused both himself and his partner. Each member had been engraved with a strange symbol, not familiar to Harry or anyone else. It was a triangle within a larger triangle with a red curvy line slashing within the middle. There was also a sentence in a language that no one recognized. But the peculiar thing was that it resembled nothing like the dark mark, the only mark anyone was familiar with. It looked like it was carved into the victim's skin, jagged cuts. But the weapon, or utensil used to make this mark, looked like it had ink on it when used, for the triangles were black, and the curvy line was red. The mark was on their forehead, and their lips were sewed tight in an eternal vow of silence.
It had been a brutal murder that much was true. The six victims, their eyes were staring up ahead, into the unknown. Their torso had been ripped open, their innards all over the place. The smell was putrid, and the blood was like a river, flowing with the English rain seeping into the earth. Many wondered why the victims were found together, for they were part of two totally different words, but alas the dead could not confirm these inquiries. Why would Wizards venture out of their town, which was known to have mostly purebloods? Not all purebloods were like the Weasleys, which meant they had a general fear of their unknown cousins.
Perhaps the most heartbreaking was that one of the muggles was a child, a little girl appearing to be the age of four, she was clutching her mothers arm.
They had to find the scene before the Muggle police did. Fortunately, it was in the woods. It was discovered by a old wizard by the name of George Harvey, who was out on his morning walk with his clumber spaniel dog. The dog had found it really, but led Mr. Harvey to the gruesome scene, who immediately alerted Auror authorities.
It had been a long day, and Harry would have liked nothing more to just lay down on a nice soft surface. When he reached Hermione's apartment, his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach when he got no answer to his calls.
"Hermione?"
No answer. Not again, please not again.
"Hermione!" He went into the bedroom. There was nothing.
He went into the kitchen, panic sweeping his whole body.
Then he found the note.
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"Hermione, are you here?" Harry asked as soon as he apparated into his apartment.
"Harry, that you?" He heard her voice from inside the kitchen. Harry let out a great sigh of relief at hearing her voice.
"You know, you gave me a heart attack, not knowing where you were."
"I had to do something Harry, it got boring there." She blushed a lovely shade of red. "But you know what, your lucky I came here, because this place was absolutely disgusting when I came here. "
"Really, is that so?" He asked
"Yes. Harry, do you not know a simple cleaning spell or are you too lazy to even mutter one? "
"The last one."
"Oh Harry." She sighed softly. Her last statement had an effect on Harry he had not expected. It was so wispy, so erotic. Never had he ever seen Hermione as a sexual being, even after his sudden growing affection had grown into something more, he had never looked at her that way. He had too much respect for her. But now, with that one sigh, images flashed through his mind that was filled with ecstasy and bliss.
"Harry, do you like what I did? I really had to do a lot. I even cleaned your bathroom, which was no easy feat, let me tell you. Do you even know the term of hanging up your towels?" His thoughts were interrupted by Hermione voice as she retreated into his bedroom.
"Not like your super clean either miss."
"Yea, but at least I keep things organized. Harry I found a half eaten apple underneath your bed, is that not disgusting?" She teased.
"Hermione, I know this is a stupid question, but why the hell are you not using magic to do these sorts of things?"
"Well—"She stammered a bit, trying to find the correct answer. "I just wanted to do something myself, you know? I don't want to rely on magic for everything Harry, I relied on it too much before and look at what hap—"She stopped. Her eyes were downcast, but from what Harry could see, they were glazed over with fresh tears.
They were silent for a minute, both standing in the hallway. Neither knew what to say to one another, for both felt like words were not needed. The suddenly, Hermione brushed past him, walking into the kitchen.
"I sent a note to Minerva—"He heard her voice from the kitchen. "I used Chester; I didn't think you would mind."
"No of course not. What did you say?" he asked as he entered his bedroom, picking out some fresh clothes to wear, jeans and a tee shirt.
"Um- that I was going to be away for the next two days."
"Hermione, you're planning on going back to work in two days? " Harry asked after he changed, making his way into the kitchen.
"Well yea." she said as she washed a dish, the muggle way.
"Are you crazy? Hermione, after what you just went through—"
"I don't want to feel useless Harry! I can't just sit around in that apartment, doing absolutely nothing!" She yelled.
"Fine. Fine." He said finally, not wanting to pursue the topic any further. "Are you hungry or something?"
She nodded
"What would you like? I'll bring it back to your place."
"I don't care really. But can we stay at your apartment tonight?" She asked meekly.
" Sure." And he apparated out.
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Harry came back with a regular English dinner, fish and chips. They sat in the living room, just as they did the night before, but this time, they were both quiet. Both picked up a book or a magazine, and the sound of pages turning filled the void of conversation
One question had suddenly appeared within Hermione's mind. Something she had in the back of her head all along, but something she never wanted to face; the issue of pregnancy. What if she was pregnant with this mans child? Nine months from now, she could be giving birth to a child that was conceived through violence and torture. How could she ever love the child? But before that question to be answered, the question of if she was pregnant or not had to be answered. She had wanted to put off that answer because of the terror that rose in her at the notion.
As if a sudden wave had come upon her, Hermione felt panic bear down on her. Her heart rate quickened, arteries expanded to get more blood to the rest of her body. Her breathing intensified, her senses became heightened and she started to shake. What was happening to her?
Harry, by chance had looked up at that point to see Hermione's whole body start to shake. As quickly as he could, he stood up and walked over to her, kneeling in front of her.
"Hermione?" He whispered.
"Harry, I can't do it. I can't do this." She said shakily, her eyes wide and glazed over.
"Can't do what?" He asked, holding her shoulders.
"THIS!" She yelled.
"Hermione I don't understand."
"What if it's his, I can't deal with that. How could I ever lov—" She put her head in her hands and started to cry. Right then, Harry's heart dropped. Is she pregnant?
"Hermione are you saying that you're pregnant?" Panic swept over him.
"I could be. I could be. I don't want to be Harry." She said through her hands, muffled. Relief swept over him. She wasn't with child. She wasn't bearing the child of a monster. Thank god. But she could.
"Do you want to get the test tomorrow?"
"No-no-no-no-no-" She looked up at him suddenly, her eyes wide with terror.
"Okay, that's ok. We'll do it whenever."
"Harry, I'm tired." She said, her face crumbling, her chin quivering, her eyes squinting as an onslaught of new tears came streaming down her face.
" Alright. Off to bed you go then." He said as he picked her up, her small form being lifted up easily. He treaded softly into his bedroom, her sobs being muffled into his shoulder. He laid her down gently, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. By then, her shaking had subsided a little, but the crying hadn't. She turned over on her side, facing toward the window and away from Harry. He stayed for a while, not knowing what to do. Should he leave her? Should he stay and hug and kiss her and tell her everything is alright?
He was completely lost.
But he stayed anyway. He stayed and watched as she sobbed and whimpered. He watched as some tears made a new track down her cheek, while some just stayed on the same path, too afraid to go out on their own. He was mesmerized, for she wasn't exactly the epitome of strength and beauty at this moment. But she was to him. With her hair in disarray, more so than usual, dark hair contrasting with the white of the pillow case. How is it that he is fortunate enough to be in her presence? How it that he is privileged enough to see her fragility? Not many saw this side of their hero. But Harry was now experiencing the unthinkable.
It wasn't for a great while when Harry realized that she had fallen asleep, for her breathing had become calmer and more even.
He walked back to his living room; the clock read 11: 12
He wanted to read over some of the reports and notes he had made at the murder scene this afternoon. Harry looked at the photos they had taken of the bodies, the raindrops rolling off their faces and into the soil. The leaves were drenched with blood and their innards were splayed all over. He stared at the sign on their foreheads.
What the hell did it mean?
What did the sentence at the bottom mean also?
A million questions ran through him mind, but nothing came up. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, for his eyes were tearing profusely, and he was yawning a lot.
He looked at the clock again; 12:10. He hadn't realized how quickly this little sit down went. Harry got up and went into the bedroom, where the sleeping form of Hermione Granger lay. He brushed his teeth quickly and changed out of his jeans. He only left on his boxers because of the humidity of the summer air.
This time, Harry didn't curl up to Hermione's slender form in his arms. Tonight his arms were empty, and he never felt more off.
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Hermione woke the next morning at 5:12 am. She had not had a restful night; images of a child plagued her dreams, causing her heart to clench in sadness every time he appeared.
She got up quickly, just as soon as she opened her eyes. She was tired, but then again, she wasn't. She saw herself in the mirror as she passed one of Harry's dressers. She looked horrible. Hermione's hair looked very dirty; her face looked dirty from cleaning frenzy yesterday. She quickly went into the bathroom and washed her face and conjured up some normal clothes, jeans and a T-shirt. She showered and dried; the norm.
Harry was still sleeping when she got out of the shower, so she went in to the living room, so as to not wake him.
In the living room, she noticed some papers on one of the coffee tables. Hermione reprimanded Harry's lack of cleanliness, until she noticed what was on the papers.
Bodies, six of them, their eyes unwavering in their stare at the heavens and their intestines splayed out on the forest floor. Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed that one of the victims was in fact a young girl. Her blonde ringlets soaked by the falling rain; she was clutching her mothers arms, terror etched on her small face.
Then Hermione saw the sign on their foreheads. Amazingly, she recognized it; but not from her endless knowledge of the wizarding world, and its magic's. No this was pagan, or Wiccan, something that was very common in the muggle world, especially among the eccentrics.
The truth was, Witches and Wizards underestimated the power of muggles. Muggles had developed things that most people in the wizarding world couldn't even fathom. How one nuclear missile could wipe out anything in its path, the force much more potent and powerful than any spell and or charm, it's amazing; but equally sad, because it meant that human nature, magical or not, was naturally violent, using their brain power and energy for missiles and killing curses.
But also, somehow, Muggles had tapped into their own certain magic, without the aid of wands, which was an impossible feat for many wizards. The thing about the magic's the muggles used, it was either drawn from the earth, or from some other object. In this case, the sign was used to channel energy; this she knew. Either that or it was something as a marking to worship something. Satanic cult or demon worshiping Hermione guessed.
Satan worshiping was not only limited to misguided muggle teenagers, but it was also used by some Wizards and Witches who really believe in soul selling and whatnot. She had also read in a newspaper that Voldermort was believed to worship the devil and do his biddings. Which it wasn't a far fetched idea really.
Her attention wavered when she saw a figure coming down the hall. It was Harry.
" What'r ya doin up?" he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
" Couldn't sleep. Why are you up?"
" Wanted to work on a case-" He stopped in front of her " The same case you are looking at right now. I don't think you should be looking at those."
Hermione sent a glare up at his direction. She got up quickly and in doing so, shoved the case reports in his hands roughly.
He thinks I can't even look at pictures. My god! I'm not some breakable thing that will have a nervous break down at any moment.
But the thing was, she had a nervous breakdown the night before.
But right now, she was more angry than nervous.
"Have any leads on this?" Hermione asked coldly as she conjured up some tea.
"None at all." Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair. "You've been looking at it for a while right? What do you think?"
"I'm no auror Harry." She sat down next to him
"Yea, but your better at it than me. " He looked at her intently. " Come on Hermione, I saw the look on your face while you were reading the case reports, I just know that you have this thing figured out or whatever."
"Alright, I have an idea, but I don't know if it's right ok?"
"What is it?"
"Remember in Auror training, we had to do the psychology of a killer? Well I remember them saying that even though serial killers are solitary, they are also drawn to groups or cults for the safety and comradely it offers. Does this ring a bell Harry?"
"No."
"Good God Harry-"
"Well I really didn't pay attention in that class."
"And I did, and look I'm not even an Auror, I'm a teachers assistant. I still remember this; I learned these facts 3 years ago!"
"I don't need a scolding Hermione, I just need your suggestion." Harry snapped.
"Right.. So they taught us about satanic cults, remember? How they think they are doing the devils bidding. Well, you also know that magic is not only limited to wizards right, that muggles also have their own form of magic, Wicca or pagan. They channel energy from an object or the earth. Well thinking that maybe this was a satanic cult. A cult where marks like that can have great significance or power. Perhaps when this mark is laid upon a victim's body, maybe it channels their essence through it. I'm not sure yet though."
"You're sure it's a cult?"
"I'm positively sure about the satanic cult part."
" Do you think the murders are muggles or wizards? If they are muggles, we can't do anything about it then."
"That I'm not so sure about. You'll have to work on that with Don"
Harry snorted." That should be fun"
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The past couple days had been hard on the both of them. Hermione still had night mares and trouble sleeping. She was very panicky at times, eyes wide and breathing loud. She had been relieved briefly when her period started up again. It was only 5 days late.
Harry's emotions were also running high because of the case. Hermione advice had helped a lot, but things were still left hanging. Harry was also trying to find Hermione's violator, using the semen sample taken from her. He would have liked to make that top priority, but with the new case he was working on, there were six dead bodies with families that needed to have some closure. Plus, Harry was sure that the special victims unit was working on Hermione's case tirelessly. He just wanted to catch the bastard himself you know?
It was one hazy night when Hermione came to him while he was working on this on this other case.
"I think I want to tell my parents and Ron..." She said suddenly
"Ok." He said simply, knowing that it was time.
&%$%#%$#)(
She had wanted to go alone. Harry had understood and Hermione was grateful for it. She strode up the steps leading to her childhood home. Her true home rested just outside of Minley, a small suburban area that was great for raising children and living the good life.
She opened the door tentatively "Mum, Dad?
"In here dear." She heard the voice of her father coming through the kitchen.
She walked into the kitchen, the strong smell of apple entering her nostrils; her mom was burning a candle. She smiled, her mother loved candles, and so did she, they just made a house feel warmer. Her mother, Emily Granger was sitting at the kitchen table, cutting out coupons and certificates from the Sunday paper. Her father, James William Granger was sitting with a cuppa next to him reading something from a magazine.
"What brings you here dear?" Her mother asked. Hermione frowned, feeling guilty for not visiting in so long.
"Oh, things." Hermione said simply
"How's that apprenticeship going over at that school? When do you start teaching those hooligans?" James Granger asked, taking a sip from his tea.
"Oh, I don't start teaching for a while. But I am going to do some student teaching this September."
"That sounds fun! Are you excited?" Her mother asked.
" Terribly" Hermione said blandly
She sat down at the kitchen table. Her mother was a small woman, height of only 5'0. Her once dirty blonde hair was now littered with a scattering of grey hairs. Years of working and stress had taken a toll on Emily's beautiful face; crow's feet, worry lines, laughing lines, all prominent features on her face. But at 52 years old, she could run circles around people half her age, for her energy was endless.
James Granger wrinkles were not as evident as his wife's, but men age gracefully, as women do not. His eyes scanned the magazine in front of him, Hermione's eyes. Her father had passed on his gene for beautiful brown eyes. Hermione was a picture of her mother, except for the brown hair and brown eyes. Mr. Granger was balding, something that happened to all men when they got older.
"So dad, how's work going?"
"Oh ok. You know, your mother and I are planning on going on vacation to- Emily where was it that you wanted to go again?"
"Morocco."
"Yes, Morocco, that's in Africa right?
"Yes James, it's in Africa. Hermione I'm just glad I get to pick the trip this year. We went to Venice last year, spent a week there. You're father simply loved it, but as you know, I've always wanted to go to Morocco."
"Yes I know mother." When should she bring this up? Right now it was all small talk.
" Is something bothering you dear?" Emily Granger asked
"Um, no—Mum, Dad can we go into the living room I have to talk to you about something?
"Whatever for Hermione? I daresay that the kitchen is just fine for small talk." Her father said, not even looking up from his magazine.
It was evident that her parents were not going to budge from their place in the kitchen for some reason. She wasn't going to fight with them about it, because frankly it did not matter.
"The other night, something happened--." Hermione said grimly. This caught them, for both their heads shot up and all attention was granted to their daughter " It was about 3:30 in the morning I really cant remember, I woke up to some tapping. I didn't think anything of it, so I went back to sleep. Then I woke up again to something traveling up my leg. I thought it was Crookshanks, but it wasn't---."
The eyes of Emily and James Granger stared back at her, fear showing within. At this, Hermione's brown eyes filled up with tears, and a lump had somehow gotten into her throat.
"It was a man."
"Dear, what did you do? You did have your wand next to your bed stand didn't you, like you always do?" Her mother asked thickly.
Hermione shook her head.
"What did he want, doodlebug?" James asked worriedly, using the childhood nickname he called his only child.
" Nothing" Hermione noticed their posture soften a bit, and it saddened her heart because she knew that their hopes and dreams that their daughter having a normal and happy life would be crushed. "He—a—he put a knife to my throat and told me to be quiet otherwise he would kill me."
She did not have to continue. Her parents were intelligent people; they could put two and two together. And they did.
Emily Granger got up and hugged her, planting a soft kiss on her baby's face, holding her tightly. It was then that Hermione really cried. It wasn't a panicky cry like before. It was a sad cry, filled with sadness and heartbreak. Sadness for the pride and emotional security she had lost that night
James Granger watched the scene in front of him. His wife was holding his crying daughter. It was the exact image that he had seen many years before, his wife holding their crying baby, soothing her. Then, he was content, for Hermione was only an infant and it was normal for a little child to cry.
But now, his daughter was 21, and she was crying. But not for something that she needed, but for something that she was ripped apart from. It was a sad cry, it echoed through the house. But James Granger did nothing to soothe his daughter; he just sat there still, shocked.
This couldn't have happened to his baby girl. He had always tried to keep her safe, picking her up when she fell down, cleaning her scrapes and cuts. Nurturing her when she was upset, just giving her all the love a child needed. James was not a religious man, but he did believe in God. He had raised a good child, a girl who was courageous and caring, he did the best he could do and in his opinion it was a pretty damn good attempt. But nobodies perfect. But why had this happened to his girl? No one deserved this, not anyone. But his dear Hermione had gotten it. James silently screamed to the man above, asking why he had let his prayers down. That was all he had asked from God since his daughter was born; just that she would be safe and that she would live a happy life where she would be accepted no matter what. But his prayers were unanswered and left in the dirt. And the ending result was a crying woman in front of him.
"Oh mama, I was so scared." She sobbed into her mothers shoulder. Hermione clutched the fabric of her mothers dress desperately.
James Granger was surprised to find that he was crying, for the whole thing hadn't registered fully.
Emily Granger pulled away from her daughter slowly "Do you want to sleep here tonight?" She asked as she smoothed Hermione's hair.
"No-no I have to get back to Harry." Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly.
"Harry?" Her father asked suddenly.
"Harry's been helping me these past few days, giving me some support and whatnot. He—a—he gets worried." She got up quickly
" Hermione?" Her father's voice sounded.
" What?"
"Come here."
She walked over to him to give him a hug. Hermione was surprised to have her father hug her tightly as if anticipating never seeing her again. Hermione hugged back tightly, not wanting to let go of her daddy, for she felt like a little girl again.
&&$%$(&(&
She had been gone for a total of two hours, and it was now that Harry started to panic. He knew the town of Minley, for it was a popular tourist place because of the historical sites, but he had never been there, so he had no idea what kind of element hung around at night.
He checked his watch again 7:34 P.M
It was then that he heard the 'POP' that generally came with apparition. He looked up and saw Hermione standing in front of him, her eyes puffy from crying and looking absolutely exhausted.
"Hey" She said softly.
"Hey" he replied, looking up at her, concerned. If she was emotionally drained, then tomorrow was going to be even worse. Tomorrow was Saturday, and they scheduled a date with Ron, where she was going to tell him what happened. " How did it go?"
What a stupid question.
"Um, not well."
"Did you tell them exactly what happened?"
"No, I just said that a man was there and that he had a knife and he threatened me, and they put two and two together. They figured it out; they're my parents of course. "
"Yea"
"I don't want to tell Ron tomorrow." She said weakly.
"You have to; you can't just keep something like this from him. He's always been there Hermione."
"Yes I know!" She snapped. "I'm just not looking forward to it is all." Her voice softened a bit.
"I know." Harry
" I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted. Good night." She turned away and went into the room.
Something was bothering her, and Harry had a feeling what it was.
She had said that she had told her parents exactly what happened, letting them come to their own conclusions. She didn't have to go through a count by count story with them, and for that she was grateful. But Harry knew that tomorrow, with Ron, she would have to explain everything. Not saying that Ron couldn't put two and two together just like her parents, but Ron would want to know everything anyway, even if he figured it out. Harry knew what Ron's reaction was going to be, being that he knew his best friend better than anyone. Ron was going to be angry; he was going to be vengeful. But Harry wasn't sure if Ron's reaction was what was bothering Hermione. It could be. But there was another thing.
She would have to explain everything, to every detail. She would have to talk about the moment where her world came crumbling down.
But Harry had to admit, he was curious in hearing what happened, since he had never heard her say anything, only that the attacker had a knife. It would help in her case.
(&&%&%
"Hey Ron" Harry greeted his best friend.
"Hey, how's dragon hunting going, or whatever it is you do?"
"It's okay. Pretty exciting you know, dealing with such huge animals, the danger and thrill. But I don't think I want to make it my career you know?"
"Yea, I know."
"Where's Hermione?" He asked, looking around the apartment.
"In the bathroom, she should be out in a minute."
"Oh, Harry why did you guys want me to come on such short notice?"
Harry was about to answer when the bathroom door opened to reveal Hermione. She walked quickly over to Ron and gave him a big hug.
"Oh Ron I've missed you." Harry could hear Hermione say into his shoulder.
"Missed you too. So how's Hogwarts going? Did Snape fall in a ditch yet?" He asked jokingly.
"Hogwarts is good, and no, Snape hasn't fallen in a ditch yet. Goodness Ron, he helped us during the war, surely he's a good man, why do you still hate him?" she accused
"Old habits die hard right?" He smirked." So Harry how's work going? Any interesting cases?"
"Yea just one. The victims were disemboweled, satanic mark on their foreheads. Hermione thinks it could be Muggle magic, you know wicca?"
" Muggle's have magic?" Ron asked his eyes wide.
" Muggles have a lot of things you wouldn't even think of Ron." Hermione said from the kitchen as she made some tea.
"Well anyways, there were six victims, four wizards and two muggles, one of them being a little girl."
"Harry, if it was a Muggle's doing, you can't arrest them." Ron said
" Yes I know that. But the question is, is that why were four wizards and two muggles meeting?"
"Who knows?"
Hermione brought over some tea and sat on the couch next to Ron. She was nervous; she was hardly listening to their conversation. All she could think about was how she was going to bring this up. The mood was casual; Hermione and Ron had their light banter, while Ron and Harry spoke about the case.
"So, Hermione, why is it that you wanted me here today?" Ron asked suddenly, making Hermione wake up from her trance.
It was now or never.
"Well Ron, something happened the other night." She said, starting it off just like she did with her parents. "I woke up to some tapping, but I ignored it, it was about 3:30 in the morning so I was really tired and all, so I went back to sleep. But then I felt something crawling up my leg, I thought it was crookshanks, but it wasn't. It was a man."
Ron's eyes locked with hers.
Hermione searched for Harry's hand, she found it and held on tightly. Why was this so hard?
"What did you do?" He asked calmly.
"I tried to reach for my wand, but it wasn't there like it always is ---"The tears started welling in her eyes, remembering that certain detail that led to the attack " He—a he had a knife and he pressed it to my throat."
Ron didn't say anything, just stared into her eyes.
"He said that if I screamed, he would kill me." His icy-cold voice echoed through her mind, sending harsh chills down her spine.
She searched Ron's eyes, trying to see if he understood, if he knew where this was going.
She couldn't read them. Normally she could, for Ron was an open book for all to read.
"He—um—he uh--- lay on top of me and um---." Stammering, she was interrupted by strong arms wrapping themselves around her. Tears started to fall down her cheeks silently and she just laid her head on her friends shoulder. He rubbed her back softly, making her feel warm; Ron always had that effect on her.
They stayed like that for a while, Ron just held Hermione securely, and trying to press all the love and understanding he had in his body into hers. Trying to make her understand
Harry watched the scene before him. No matter how much the two bickered and bantered, they were always there for each other. Ron was a warm and understanding person, no matter how hard headed he was, he loved Hermione and would always be there for her; for this Harry knew. But Harry tried not to feel some jealousy towards his best friend who was holding the object of his hearts desire, though all in friendship. He hadn't held Hermione like that since the first night he had slept in her bed, and he missed feeling the heat of her body in such close proximity of his. Sure he slept along side of her the past couple days, but Hermione was distant; cold. But there she was, holding Ron for such a long time and he couldn't help but feel jealous and a little hurt; feelings to which he knew was all immaturity.
Harry was relived (though he hated himself for it) when Hermione pulled away.
"What did you do after he left?" Ron asked softly.
"I just about had a nervous breakdown and cried myself to sleep. Harry came in the afternoon, because I was late for our lunch together. He found me. He- uh- he took care of me." Hermione said, casting her eyes downward. She felt embarrassed at that fact. No one had taken care of her since she was 8, for she was very independent.
"Thanks Harry." Ron said, his eyes starting to glisten with tears.
This stopped both Harry and Hermione in their tracks. Now was the first time that they had ever seen Ron cry. In the past, he was always the comedian, someone who always made a situation lighter with his dripping sarcasm. But now, for the first time ever, they were watching someone who was always a strong rock in the past, cry a little.
But just as soon as it had happened, the tiny tears were gone.
"I took her to St Mungo's and they ran tests and took semen samples." Harry stated.
"Are you preg---" Hermione interrupted him.
" No, I'm not. It was late for a little while, but it started up just two days ago so everything's fine."
He nodded in understanding.
The rest of the day, the three of them talked about days at Hogwarts and their present occupation. They tried to keep things safe, far away from the terrible things that had happened recently. This was a trend that Harry took notice of. How Hermione and the others would avoid the subject, which was normal of course. But Harry couldn't help but wonder, if Hermione had actually gotten a look at the guy. But she probably didn't, since she hadn't mentioned it. But maybe she wasn't mentioning it for some other reason. Not that he was suspicious of his friend, but he couldn't help but wonder why his friend, who was so thorough in so many other things, would forget such vital information. But he decided not to push it now; he would ask her about it later.
(&%$%$
The rest of his visit remained something they were all comfortable with. They mostly spoke about Hogwarts and how much they missed it. Ron, though reluctantly, told them that he had a girlfriend named Julia, and that he wasn't sure about taking the relationship to the next step. Though the conversation was light and nonchalant, there was always a heavy feeling upon everyone, especially Hermione. Ron left around 11, leaving Harry and Hermione to sit in uncomfortable silence.
Harry glanced up at Hermione; her eyes were staring at the floor. They were distant and they were cold, something that was so foreign to her normally warm brown eyes. Why was she so eager to be close to Ron, but so distant towards himself, the person who had been there through everything? Harry felt a reluctant anger rise up inside him. He shouldn't have to be going through this, dealing with her. But he was, because he loved her. And yet, Harry reprimanded himself for his selfishness, for it was not needed. He should know that trauma victims tended to withdraw from those who had been there the most, and that he shouldn't take it personally.
He couldn't help it. His heart burned for her, and he would give anything in the world for her to feel happy and safe again
"I'm not going back to Hogwarts." She sounded suddenly.
"Well that's okay, take a break Hermione, god knows—"
"I'm going back to the Aurors."
&&%$&%&
Sorry this took so long, I took my time trying to get this just right. And also, ideas just kept on popping into my head and everything had to be revised. My other story, Quintessence, is on hiatus right now, just in case any of you are reading it.
Ignore the mistake in the first chapter, its so insignificant in my opinion, that I'm not even going to change it.
Music that helped me get through this chapter ( this is a new thing ima do….)
1.Braveheart, freedom theme ( Brave heart soundtrack ) 2.Jerky Boys, Arnolds pizza shop 3. Cold play, Trouble, Moses, and yellow 4. Sting, desert rose 5.Nine inch nails; Closer, fragile 6.Nerf Herder; High school 7. Spitalfield; She said L.A 8.Something Corporate; Constantine. 9.The Verve; Bittersweet symphony
You know that writeer Irishsodabread, well there's thing that she LOVES. You know what its called?
Reviews….