Goodbye To Flesh

By Elven Victory

---------------------------------------------

Chapter Two – At The Burrow

---------------------------------------------

"Wake up! He'll be here soon!"

Hermione Granger opened her eyes slowly, only to be met with the sight of Ginny Weasley's back. She seemed to be hurrying around the half-lightened room in excited haste; carrying sheets to and fro and shooting glances at her companion every so often. Ron, her brother, was following her around, passing her objects or simply tidying up after her.

"Morning!" he called to his newly awakened comrade, grinning. He came over to her and sat on the end of the bed, half-watching his sister. "We're just tidying up for Harry, you know, in case he needs somewhere to go to talk to us, alone. Mum said it would be a good idea to make him feel extra-comfortable this summer."

Hermione let out an uneasy chuckle. "I suppose so…"

"Fred and George wanted to throw a party, but mum jumped down their throats," grinned Ron. "She said a party was the last thing Harry needed."

Hermione smiled in reply. "I suppose they found a loophole, did they?" She asked, earning a nod from her companion. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Half past seven," Ginny said vaguely, as if it was the least important thing in the world. She ran a hand over her un-brushed hair.

Hermione yawned. "Well, Harry said he wouldn't be here until lunchtime, Ginny. Is it daylight?" she added, with a glance towards the unopened curtains.

"Yes." The redhead girl then promptly strode over to the window and pulled back the brown curtains roughly; it didn't make a lot of difference to the light in the room, due to the amount of fog lying low.

The two went away downstairs not long after this, leaving Hermione to get washed and dressed. She saw no one else until she entered the kitchen, where most of the Weasleys--and Fleur--were seated around the table, eating. Ron gestured for her to sit next to him cheerily.

"Good morning, Hermione!" chirped Mrs Weasley brightly, handing the girl a plate of bacon, which she accepted. Bill, who had been discharged from St. Mungo's several days earlier, waved to her from his seat next to Fleur.

"Good morning, Mrs Weasley."

"Hello!" greeted Fred and George in union; they had had granted themselves a day away from the joke shop. Hermione smiled at them in reply.

"Guess who'll be coming with Harry today?" asked Ron, stuffing half a bread roll into his mouth. Molly gave her son a look of dissatisfaction; she leaned forwards and offered various people the breadbasket. "Lupin, Tonks and Mad-Eye! You remember Mad-Eye, don't you?"

Ginny shot her head in her brother's direction. "Ron! They might have wanted it to be a surprise. Have you thought that?" Her recipient merely shrugged.

"Has Harry written to you over the summer, at all?" asked Hermione. Ron shook his head.

"I s'pose he's been busy," he replied flatly. "After all, I guess he's been planning stuff, hasn't he? I mean, with Dumbledore and everything…"

A sudden, heavy silence seemed to grow over the table. Ginny took another slice of bacon and began eating silently. Molly twisted in her chair to look at the Weasley Clock.

"Ah, that's good: Arthur got to work all right." She turned back to the faces staring at her. "He wanted to see Harry and the others arrive, but he can't miss a day of work, unlike some."

Fred and George sniggered. "Fancy someone missing work! Wouldn't that be terrible?"

"Dad's been really busy lately," said Ginny, looking at Hermione, who had taken a sip of pumpkin juice. "The Minister for Magic keeps trying to interview him about Harry. His popularity's shot right up."

"He might even have another promotion," grinned Ron. His companion had no time to reply, however, for at that minute an owl swooped into the kitchen, landing in a ruffled heap in Fleur's plate. Molly untangled what appeared to be a copy of the Daily Prophet from its legs.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. Her eyes darted furiously down the page. "They can't possibly… no, no… it would be absurd…"

"Mrs Weasley?" asked Hermione anxiously, seeing the startled look on her hostess's face. "Is anything wrong?"

"They're debating over the future of the school," said the woman gravely, her eyes beginning to shine. She wiped them with the back of her hand. "The Ministry for Magic thinks it would be wiser to close it, and perhaps re-build it elsewhere."

Ron began choking on his pumpkin juice. "Why? There's nothing wrong with the school. It's the teachers that's the problem."

"They can't possibly rebuild it!" gasped his muggle-born companion. "That would be completely pointless! What about the teachers, and all the students? What about education?"

"Ve 'ad no probzems like zeeze at my old school," said Fleur, finishing up the last of her breakfast. "I vill do ze cleaning now, Molly?"

Mrs Weasley waved a hand absently. "Yes, yes, go ahead…"

"I vill see you all very soon," smiled Fleur, rising from the chair. She hugged Bill and exited the kitchen.

Ginny shook her head. "I don't believe this. Mum, can't Dad to anything to help?"

"There's only so much he can do, dear. Remember that he doesn't have much of a say over what the school does or doesn't do… I'll have to ask him. Hermione, dear, are you all right?"

Hermione had given the Daily Prophet to Ron and was now massaging her temples, looking pained. At first she didn't seem to hear the question directed at her. "Yes, yes, I'm fine… what are you saying?"

"We were talking about dad," said Ginny.

"No," replied the muggle-born, looking at the table in front of her. "I--I… you said something else… you were speaking in poetry… Au Revoir à la Chair?" Everyone stared at her.

"Dear?" asked Molly reassuringly. "Are you sure you're feeling all right? You look pale. It isn't the bacon, is it?" She gave a rather nasty glare at the said food.

Hermione only smiled in reply.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully; the fog cleared up overtime, and Ron decided that they should go into the garden and play Quidditch. The muggle-born's headache had subsided, though she had a rather odd feeling in her mind: almost as if it was being searched.

"Can I be Seeker?" asked Ginny, as they stood out in the garden together. "There aren't many of us… I don't think we should stick to the game rules too much…"

"Who needs rules?" grinned Ron. "Hey, Hermione! Are you playing?"

The witch looked at him from across the other end of the garden; the feeling in her head was driving her insane.

"Actually, I think I'll just watch you, if you don't mind…" she replied, but mentally kicking herself straight after she had said it. 'I think I'll watch you? Hermione, you fool, what a stupid thing to say!'

Ron, however, had turned back to his 'team' and was deeply engrossed in the game. "OK--Ginny, you can be Seeker, I'll be Captain as well as Keeper…"

Hermione watched them from her seated position on the lawn, feeling partly annoyed, partly humiliated, and partly… searched. What was wrong with her? She took to watching Ron as he kicked off into the air, and sped round in circles. Usually she would be interested in him most of all, but now… now she felt that nothing would interest her ever again.

Suddenly an odd thing happened, as she sat there: it seemed as if everything went completely silent, as if the world had gone dead. There was no shouting from the Weasleys anymore; no birds sang in the morning air. And then… then she heard it: a voice so clear it sounded as if the speaker was sitting directly behind her, as if they were talking into her ear: she could hear knives and forks; she could smell scones and tea… "I've been in the Library all morning, mother."

"Oh!" exclaimed the muggle-born, looking around wildly. She knew that voice from somewhere, but whom did it belong to? "Who said that? Who's there?"

"Hermione, are you all right?" Ron's voice interrupted her own; he was hovering a few feet above her on his broomstick, a confused look on his face. The garden, the sounds, the smells… they were back again. She had left the tea and strangers alone.

"I'm fine, really," replied the girl, forcing a smile. "It was nothing…."

"Are you sure you don't want to play? We're having fun. You look lonely over here, and we need more players on the team. If you're afraid of falling of a broomstick, I can teach you how to ride one."

At Ron's last sentence, Hermione's cheeks began to burn furiously: she could feel a blush creeping up her neck. However, the redhead boy seemed untroubled by what he had said.

"No, no…" the muggle-born practically choked, shifting awkwardly. "I think I'll play another time, perhaps…"

"If you're sure!" smiled Ron for the umpteenth time. He flew away to join the others, leaving his schoolmate to watch his retreating back. She felt torn in two. How could he be so happy over everything, so vague? Over the past week during her stay she thought something was happening between them--something more than friendship, at least. He had told her how he felt about her. But now… now as she looked at him fooling around with the Snitch, she realised perhaps she may have made a mistake. Suddenly, however, her thoughts reverted back to something entirely different…

'I've been in the Library all morning, mother.' The sentence--the voice--replayed in her head over and over again. She knew that voice… she knew it so well, and yet she hadn't a clue who it belonged to. She then remembered hearing words in her head during breakfast: what were they? She couldn't remember.

All of a sudden the game of Quidditch came to an abrupt halt; Ron's face split into a smile. He signalled for the team to dismount their broomsticks; all eyes were fixed on the sky. Hermione looked up, too, and saw four new brooms flying towards the house at full speed.

"Harry!" cried Ginny, a grin spread across her face. She waved her arm frantically. Fred and George flew towards the ground and dismounted their brooms; Ron seemed to circle in the air wildly.

Molly Weasley, Fleur and Bill came running out into the garden as the new brooms landed and the rider's dismounted. Lupin had a smile etched across his face as he scanned the garden; Mad-Eye seemed to be having trouble with his Eye and Tonks was waving to the Weasleys as they ran up to her. It seemed only seconds after these newcomers arrived that they were blocked from sight by a sea of red hair.

Hermione stood up as the congregation split up, ready to greet the visitors herself. First she met Lupin and Tonks, who spoke to her for a short while, and then Mad-Eye greeted her. She ran up to Harry as soon as he was free.

"Harry!" she cried, hugging him before seeing him properly. As she pulled away she noticed he looked tired and ill. She could sense Ron standing behind her. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," said the boy-who-lived, forcing an unconvincing smile. "I've had a lot of time to think."

"How was the ride, mate?" questioned Ron. "What've you been doing?"

Hermione gave her redhead companion a frown. "Not now, Ron."

"No, don't worry," said Harry, shaking his head. "Nothing seems to worry me anymore: it's almost as if I've accepted what I have to do. I'll tell you in a while. What have you been doing? I saw you playing Quidditch just now…"

"Harry, Ron, Hermione!" Molly Weasley's voice called to the trio from the house; the rest of the group had gone inside. "Come in for lunch!" She then promptly disappeared into the depths of the kitchen.

Ron grinned. "Great, I'm starving. I wonder what we're having?"

Lunch was the usual affair; Mrs Weasley seemed in greater spirits at managing to seat everyone around the table. The discussions mainly revolved around the Order of the Phoenix: Harry hardly said a word during the entire meal. After eating, however, he stole his friends away upstairs to talk alone with them.

"…so Uncle Vernon wants me to keep away from the house for good," he told them gravely, as he sat on Ron's bed not long into the conversation. Hermione pursed her lips.

"He can't possibly, Harry. That wouldn't be fair at all. Surely your aunt understands that you are allowed to return if you need somewhere to go? That's what Dumbledore said--"

"Yeah, but Dumbledore's dead," stated Ron simply. His friends ignored him.

"I'm not really worried about whether I'm allowed back or not," said Harry. "If I have to do the mission Dumbledore set me, I'm not likely to be returning home anyway. Ever."

"But you will eventually, won't you?" asked his redhead companion. "In the end: once you've destroyed the Horcruxes?"

The-boy-who-lived smiled sadly. "I don't know where I'll go from there… it seems such a long way away from now."

"Have you decided what you're going to do after you leave here?" questioned Hermione, her eyes large and over-bright.

"I'll still go to Godric's Hollow, no matter what happens. From there…" Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I have a vague idea."

"Go on," said Ron, interested. "We're coming with you, though, aren't we?"

"If you really must," came the reply. "But I'll go over everything with you tomorrow, all right? I want to enjoy what seems like the only afternoon I have…"

Hermione looked sympathetic. "Harry, have you any idea what the other Horcruxes are? Have you learnt anything about them since we last saw you?"

Harry shook his head. "I've been trying to read up on them, but most of it's been thinking-work. Don't forget I live with the Dursleys."

The bushy-haired girl sighed. "I wish we had more information to go on: I think we need more facts… if only you had asked Dumbledore…"

"He gave me all his information, anyway."

"Are you sure he told you everything? Maybe he didn't have time to tell you everything… maybe, just maybe, he had other information to talk to you about, after you found out the truth…"

"I'm pretty sure he told me everything he knew," said Harry.

Ron gave his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "But it's still not the only afternoon, mate. Remember the wedding?"

"Yeah…"

"Harry," began his female companion, "would you prefer us to leave you alone for a while? To give you time to think, I mean… what?"

"Are you all right?" Ron was staring at her as if she had grown several heads. Harry frowned. "You did it again…"

"Did what?" asked Hermione, confused. "I asked Harry if we should leave him alone…"

"No, not that."

"What, then? What did I do, Ronald?"

Ron shrugged. "You looked…"

"I'm sure it was nothing, right?" said Harry slowly. And then, a few seconds later, added: "Actually, are you feeling all right, really? Maybe you do look a bit paler than a few seconds ago…"

"Pale?" Hermione shook her head in an almost exasperated way. "Oh, for goodness sake… there's nothing wrong with me!"

"Don't do that!" gasped Ron, horrified. "Don't glare at us like that!"

"I can glare at you how I like, Weas--" she stopped dead. No, it couldn't be… no, she had not just been on the edge of saying 'weasel'. It was her imagination… it had to be. Then, quite out of the blue, a strong pain shot up through her head; it felt like knives had forced their way through her skull, slicing her forehead, blinding her with all their strength… her brain was physically being torn in two…

"Hermione?" asked Harry tentatively, watching as his best friend opened her mouth to scream. No sound issued from her lips.

"Ron… Harry… I--I…"

Ron shook his head. "What's wrong? Hermione!"

Hermione couldn't reply. She felt her head spin: she was losing the world around her again… she began to hear footsteps on a marble floor… she started to smell strong flowery scents… she could see the vague outline of a large bedroom…

"Maybe we should call mum up?" She could just make out Ron's worried--almost afraid--voice. But however much she squinted to try and see her friends, the large bedroom became clearer. She could half-feel satin sheets covering her; she could see the outlines of two people bustling to and fro; she could smell heavy, dusty air as she breathed in… it was like waking up from a dream… there was no way of stopping the feeling, however much she clung onto it…

Someone was looking at her from the other end of the bedroom: they had been dusting the large fireplace. They said something, but their words were merged with Harry's shouting; she couldn't comprehend it.

The shouting was being drowned out--it was fading away. Birds were singing somewhere off in the distance; cool air was forcing itself through the open window. An open book was lying next to Hermione on the bed, but it was still too indistinguishable to see properly. One of the people in the room, however, was becoming clearer: it was a woman with blonde hair and clear, white skin. She came over and sat herself on the bed next to the muggle-born.

"Draco? Draco…"she turned back to look at the other woman in the room. "Cecilia! Draco's awake; come here, quickly!"

---------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Thank you for your feedback for the last chapter! I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this story so far. Hopefully, this chapter did not disappoint. I know Hermione or Ron may have been just a tad OOC: I apologise if they were, but writing those characters don't seem to come naturally to me… please tell me how I should improve them, if they need doing so.And now onto the reviews!

DcoD: Thank you for your review! I hope this chapter, as I said, was as interesting as the last.

Silverbunnie: The best way to start Draco off, I believe, is to write him as Draco and not a Fanfic!Draco. I know exactly what you mean. Thank you for reviewing!

hpottersgirl: Thank you for your review. I hope this update is soon enough for you.

AsoftGoodbye: I'm so pleased you liked it! Thank you!

JazzDancin': Don't worry about the constructive criticism! I'm actually very glad for any review. Thanks!