Beta love to the ever patient CarbConnoisseur.
"How are things?" Dorea asked, sitting down opposite her. Draco had disappeared to play quidditch with the boys and she was hiding in the library lest James force her onto a broomstick. Again.
"Alright," Hermione sighed. "I'll be glad when that bloody nerve potion is done. I'm exhausted and it still hurts if I'm honest. But other than that it's…strange. More than being here, it's strange to be still, to have time. I feel like I should be doing more than I am."
Dorea's eyebrows rose. "And what more could you be doing, my granddaughter?"
"Destroying the Horcruxes, finding out if they're in the same place, catching the Death eaters. Something. Anything that isn't sitting around talking."
"You went through so much, Hermione," Dorea sighed. "You need some time to heal or you won't be strong enough for what's next."
"That's what Draco said."
"He's a surprisingly smart boy for having that peacock for a father."
Hermione snorted. "Yes, thankfully he eventually learned to think for himself."
"Was Lucius aware of your relationship?"
"Towards the end," Hermione whispered, her face taking on a haunted look. "Harry, Ron, and I were caught and taken to Malfoy Manor during that last year since Voldermort was living there. Bella separated me from the boys in order to get information. Draco couldn't stay quiet when she began torturing me. Lucius realised then and removed him from the room. He fought back and we got out eventually…but it came at a cost. Narcissa figured it out at the end of our fourth year when Voldemort was resurrected and Draco wasn't the enthusiastic baby Death Eater they'd raised him to be. I don't think she understood, and I know she didn't approve, but she loved him so she bought us time to escape and Bella killed her for it. I…I feel so fucking guilty. If I had just been able to keep quiet, not shown how much it hurt…not been stupid enough to get fucking caught in the first place. He'd never have had to deal with that."
"Oh, Hermione sweetheart. None of it is your fault," Dorea murmured, her heart breaking all over again for the burden they had been forced to shoulder.
"Isn't it?" she asked, tears falling down her face. "We knew, we knew it was a fucking awful idea, that his father would never allow it. And for years we pretended that it would be ok. That we'd figure it out, even as the entire world was turning to shit and deep down we knew we were lying to ourselves and now…now we have no one left but each other. What if…what if once he's processed everything, he hates me for it? Or worse, what if he's only with me because there's no one else left?"
"Anyone with eyes can see that boy adores you. I have no idea what the future holds my girl, but I cannot see one where he hates you," Dorea rebutted softly.
"I don't think I know how to do this without him," Hermione whispered. "But I'm really, really fucking scared that at some point I'm going to be forced to. Everyone was dead…I can't…he can't die too."
"Oh, Hermione," Dorea whispered, pulling her granddaughter to her, attempting to hold the pieces together as she fell apart. Apparently the cracks Poppy had warned her about were showing quicker than anticipated; it was a sobering thought. Not entirely sure what else she could do, she held her tightly, whispering soothing nonsense until she calmed down.
Sirius found them two hours later. "Shit! I'll just…" his eyes were wide as he took in the sight of Hermione cuddled tightly into Dorea. She really was a tiny thing, which was surprising given the force of her personality.
"No, perhaps you're just who we need," Dorea voiced, looking at him intently, feeling emotionally wrung out after the brutally frank conversation with Hermione that had lasted longer than she realised. The Gods alone knew how she was feeling. It had been her life, after all.
"I want a…tattoo, I think." Hermione supplied in answer to his startled look.
"A tattoo?" Sirius repeated dumbly.
Hermione nodded. "I…I need a way to remember them. A visual reminder of what we're fighting for."
"And you agree?" he asked, looking at Dorea.
"I think that regardless of my feelings on tattoos, Hermione has been forced to endure more than anyone should. If she thinks it'll help then I won't disapprove. When we manage to end this, these people, her friends, will still be born, but they won't be hers. I cannot imagine how difficult that will be. A tangible reminder that her versions were just as real might be just the thing."
"Do you know what you want?" Sirius asked curiously.
"I…I think so." He arched a brow questioningly. "I want a snitch, a chess knight, a broomstick, fireworks, a mimblemus mimbletonia and…spectrespecs."
"What in the name of Godric are spectrespecs?"
Hermione smiled sadly. "They're glasses that almost look like hands with different coloured lenses that let you see wrackspurts."
"What the fuck is a wrackspurt?"
Hermione let out a sob like laugh. "I have no idea."
"Ok…ok Kitten, whatever you want." Sirius eyed her with concern. "Can you draw a rough version of them?"
Hermione nodded, tears falling as her mind supplied the image of a tiny Luna Lovegood floating around the castle searching for the elusive wrackspurts with the Quibbler clutched in her hands, which fought for dominance against the image of her bloody and still body, of Draco forcing her to leave it, of the feral grin of her murderer as she did as she was told.
"I'll sort something for this week," Sirius promised, backing out of the room, still looking concerned but ultimately deciding Dorea was better qualified to deal with the tears than he was.
By the time Sirius got back home, the Order members were reassembling. He wasn't sure he was ready for this. He wasn't sure Hermione was ready for this. She seemed…more fragile than he'd seen her before, although Draco didn't seem to be overly concerned so perhaps he was reading too much into it. He was so distracted by his concerns he almost missed a clearly uncomfortable Severus Snape appearing in the doorway, scuttling across the room quickly to sit next to Draco. He almost fell out of his own seat.
"He's here on our invitation and he's sighed the same pieces of parchment you all have," Draco spoke coldly, his eyes travelling around the room that had stopped talking to stare in disbelief. "It is not up for discussion."
"Right, fourth year," Hermione spoke loudly the moment everyone sunk into a slightly stunned silence, clearly making use of their inability to marshal their thoughts into an argument. "In their infinite wisdom the heads of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons, alongside the Ministry, decided to bring back the Triwizard tournament. Harry's name was entered and he became the fourth champion."
"Fourth champion?" Frank Longbottom spluttered.
"Yes. Now our defence professor that year was…well we'll go with Alastor Moody."
"Teach you a lot girlie?" Moody grinned.
"You cast unforgivables on spiders in our first class." The entire room swivelled to look at him in horror. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, it wasn't really him. Not that we fucking knew it at the time, although one would think his old friend would have fucking spotted that someone was impersonating him using polyjuice for the entirety of the fucking school year," she interjected impatiently, looking pointedly at Dumbledore.
"Back to the fourth champion in the Triwizard tournament," Augusta cut in sharply.
Hermione sighed. "The explanation is coming. Honest. That year the Quidditch world cup was held in Britain. Death Eaters had some of their unique brand of fun and destroyed the campsite and tortured some innocent muggles. During the commotion, Barty Crouch's house elf was dismissed after she was found near the Dark Mark. It's important for later. Dumbledore made Harry compete in the tournament. The tasks were as brutal as you imagine, however, he completed them and was tied for first place with the other Hogwarts champion going into the third task. Before the third task, after Bagman had taken the champions down to the Quidditch pitch to explain what it was, Barty Crouch approached him and the Durmstrang Champion, Viktor Krum, appearing mad. Harry ran to get Dumbledore. They found Viktor stunned and Crouch missing. Again, it's important for later.
The third task was a fucking magical maze. No one could fucking see anything. I have no idea who the fuck thought that and sending the champions for a fucking swim in the Black Lake constituted entertainment, but there you are."
Draco snorted. "Ah, of course, that was the issue Princess: the tournament was boring."
"Oh, fuck off!"
Draco laughed as she scowled at him. "The maze was filled with obstacles. A lot happened but eventually, only Harry and Cedric, the other Hogwarts champion, were left. They took the cup together and it turned out to be an illegal portkey. Wormtail killed Cedric within moments of arrival and then bound Harry so he could be used in Voldemort's resurrection ritual. There was a freaky clash of wands once Voldemort had an actual body again and Harry escaped back to Hogwarts with Cedric's body. Moody turned out to be Barty Crouch Jr. Senior had been keeping him under the imperius at home. His dying wife had convinced him to use Polyjuice and switch her out for Junior. But Junior escaped and started causing problems. He was responsible for Harry's name being in the Goblet and he sort of manoeuvred things so Harry got through the tournament to the cup. He kept his father under the imperius with the help of Wormtail in retaliation before he murdered him at Hogwarts while Harry was off to get Dumbledore. Fudge had him Kissed without allowing testimony," Hermione continued.
"Dumbledore's Order of the little birdies reformed and he essentially put Black under house arrest. Wonderful idea, by the way, locking him up in the place his parents abused him after he'd already been locked up for twelve years in Azkaban," Draco remarked casually, his stiff posture belying his tone.
"You made Sirius leave Harry just after he had witnessed a boy who had become a friend die. You gave them no fucking time! And then you sent Harry off to those fucking awful people and banned us! Fucking magically banned us from telling him anything! He was fucking there for weeks and you only relented when he was attacked by Dementors," Hermione spat at Dumbledore, her face furious.
"Dementors?" Dorea screeched.
Hermione waved her hand. "Two of them attacked Harry and his cousin. They were fine, thankfully. Harry had to have a whole fucking trial in front of the entirety of the fucking Wizeongamot though, for using magic in front of a muggle. We'll ignore that it was to save said muggle's life and that the muggle in question was his fucking cousin who knew about magic anyway. And you, you wouldn't fucking speak to him, you wouldn't look at him, he was devastated and lost and a fucking teenage boy with no fucking family to speak of and fuck all support and you, you just fucking ignored that."
Draco grabbed her in alarm as she made towards the Headmaster. "You cannot hex him, Princess, however much the arse deserves it."
"Why the fuck not!" she howled, spinning to face him. "I had forgotten in amongst all the shit of last year but that fucking summer nearly broke Harry. So why the fuck not!"
Draco gaped at her, not entirely sure what to say given that he desperately wanted to let her. "I…Fuck. Because this version of him hasn't done it yet?"
"So?"
Charlus came to stand beside them. "Unfortunately, Draco is right." He pulled her into a hug, bending down to murmur in her ear, "You'll get him, I promise. Once this is done. There'll be a queue but you'll get him." Hermione sagged into the hug and nodded.
"Fifth year," Draco spoke into the silence, ignoring the whispers around the room, "brought the fucking pink toad. The Prophet and the Ministry had spent all summer making Potter and Dumbledore out to be liars or insane depending on what they fancied that day. And as Dumbledore couldn't get a Defence Professor, we got a Ministry appointed one. A delightful woman called Delores Umbridge. If someone could just fucking take her out for us, we'd be most fucking grateful."
"No," Hermione growled. "That fucking cunt is mine."
Even Draco's eyes widened at her language. "Ah, alright then Princess. The toad's yours," he said, holding his hands up placatingly.
"What did she do?" Lily asked, her eyes wide.
"She was a fucking prejudiced arsehole who promoted blood purity and fucking tortured students."
"Tortured students?" Minerva gasped.
"She used a blood quill in detentions," she held up her hand showing faint scars, I will respect my betters etched into it. "Harry's had I must not tell lies. Fred and Georges were indecipherable because they wrote each other's lines as well as their own so as to remain identical. She used it on fucking first years!"
"You will find this woman," Dorea's voice filled the room, despite being barely above a whisper, terrifying in its controlled menace. "You will find her and you will make sure she never gets near a child. Am I clear?"
There were nods around the room. "We're pretty sure she's in the Improper Use of Magic Office," Fabian voiced. "Her name is uncomfortably familiar."
"Get her out!" Dorea hissed.
"We'll sort it," Amelia replied grimly. "So you had Umbridge. What else?"
"Dumbledore was removed as Headmaster and Umbridge became Headmistress. Hermione set up an illegal defence group that she made Harry teach because Umbridge refused to allow us to do anything practical. She was under the delightful illusion that we wouldn't be attacked, or so she said. In reality, the Ministry was worried Dumbledore was building an army to oust Fudge. In a bid to remove Hagrid, Umbridge stormed his house at night during our Astronomy O.W.L. McGonagall went to assist Hagrid but was taken out by five stunners and had to be moved to St. Mungos. Potter had a vision that Voldemort was torturing Sirius in the DOM during our History of Magic exam. He and several others broke into Umbridge's office to try and contact Headquarters. Sirius' elf claimed he wasn't at Grimmauld, but he lied. Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad, a sort of warped version of Prefects, caught them, but because they refused to tell her anything, the bitch threatened to crucio Potter. Hermione conned her into the Forbidden Forest and left her to the mercies of the centaurs. Miss anything so far?"
"Harry saw Arthur Weasley get attacked by Voldemort's snake while on an order mission in a…dream I suppose. He had…an unnatural connection to Voldemort. It's why when he saw the vision of Sirius he believed it. We tried to pass a message to Severus, but because of his cover, he had to pretend not to understand. Harry wouldn't believe me when I said it wasn't an act and so a group of us flew to the Ministry. Regardless of what I believed, I couldn't let him go without me."
Draco held her hand tightly, hating to relive this. The fear he had felt when he realised none of them were on school grounds had been close to overwhelming and despite that, he knew it was worse for her.
"It was a trap," she whispered. "They were waiting on us. The minute Harry picked up that damn prophecy they appeared and we were outnumbered. The Order came eventually but it was…a brutal introduction to battle. They were out to kill us and we were still using stunning spells. Christ, Gin and Luna were only thirteen. There had also been an Azkaban breakout beforehand so Bella was unfortunately present. They blamed it on Sirius, claiming that he was rounding up his Lord's most faithful, playing on the fact that Bella was his cousin. Sirius…he…fucking hell," she trailed off looking lost, the tears already pouring down her face, her eyes pinned on Sirius.
"He died that night. Bella killed him. Dolohov almost killed Hermione. And the Death eaters that had failed to escape were imprisoned after the Ministry was forced to admit he was back. Even Fudge couldn't pretend he hadn't seen him," Draco finished for her, his voice gentle as he watched Hermione try to keep herself together. He didn't dare look at Sirius. He couldn't imagine how it would feel to be confronted by your own death.
"And then! And then you fucking sent Harry back to those muggles!" Hermione sobbed, turning to glare at Dumbledore. "You just…." she waved a hand losing her grip on her composure as she launched herself at a startled Sirius.
"Fuck! Hey, come on now Kitten. I'm not dead yet," he murmured, gripping her as tightly as she was gripping him, anchoring himself to something real as he processed his own death.
"You can't die at all!" she wailed.
He laughed, although even he could hear how strained it sounded. "We all die sometime, Kitten."
"Promise me! Not for years, decades!"
"Centuries? I'll do my best, Kitten," he murmured into her hair, not daring to look at Remus or James for fear of what he'd see on their faces. He could hear Lily and Dorea crying. He had a horrible feeling that McGonagall wasn't as composed as she usually was either, which made everything worse. Deciding he couldn't cope with that right now, he focused on holding the fragile little powerhouse that was currently sobbing into his shirt. Everything else could wait.