Chapter Three:
October 26th, 1999
Halloween has always been Hermione's favourite holiday. Dressing up and pretending brings her so much joy. Her memories of Halloween were always peppered with treats and meeting Ron and Harry.
But this year, it weighs heavily on her soul. The merriment and lightness not showing up this time.
"Miss. Granger, uhm, there's someone, there's someone here to see you…" Connor squeaks out, clearly alarmed as Ginny storms towards Hermione's little cubicle.
"Oh Connor, thank you…" Hermione looks at him and lowers her voice, "I hope she wasn't too forceful, I know how strict Beatrice is about non-ministry guests." Connor visibly pales, as if that never crossed his mind.
"Oh Merlin…Beatrice…" Is all she hears him say before turning away.
"Hermione Jean Granger, I know for a fact you don't have a costume for this weekend!" Ginny announces loudly, much to her chagrin. She can see a few people pop their heads above their cubicles before retreating, not wanting to interact with the witch on a rampage.
"Oh Gin, I-I was just going to wear something I already have…I think something I own is…salvageable…" Hermione stumbles out wishing one of the inter departmental mail planes would land on her desk. Wishing someone in the aisles would walk by and call her into a meeting. Wishing Beatrice would appear and chastise her. Instead she sits in her office chair, looking for excuses.
As much as she loves Ginny, the last thing she wants to do right now is shop.
"Nonsense. I've already spoken with Beatrice and you're free for the rest of the afternoon…Besides, you can't wear something a witch would wear to a muggle party!" Ginny exclaims, thrusting Hermione's coat and handbag into her lap.
Hermione nearly has to sprint to keep up as Ginny pounds down the pavement in muggle London. There's a tightness in her chest as she passes along the high street, the shop windows all decorated with black cats and pumpkins.
"Let's go in here." Ginny's hand reaches out, giving Hermione a tug into the theatre shop. The window holds full-sized mannequins dressed as a lion, a 17th century aristocrat and a witch with sickly green skin and a pointed hat.
They peruse and it's hard for Hermione to remember that muggles are still very foreign to Ginny. Yes her father has a bit of an obsession, but he often gets things wrong. She watches as Ginny pulls things from the racks, looking to Hermione for confirmation before placing them back.
"That's a doctor costume," Hermione whispers as Ginny pulls out a white lab coat and stethoscope.
"How do Muggle doctors do anything without magic…" Ginny mumbles under her breath, her eyes wide as she trudges down the aisle.
Hermione watches, falling back into a different aisle and letting Ginny explore. The shop smells old, like dust and velvet and the hints of old parchment. It's small, located in an ancient block of row houses and stretches the whole depth. She spots a small garden out the back behind the register.
The shopkeeper eyes them suspiciously but doesn't bother to ask if they're looking for anything, instead he cracks his newspaper open with a harumph and Hermione forgets that the pictures won't be moving.
She stares for a long moment, waiting for the photo of Tony Blair to spring to life.
Are CDs the New Craze? Portable Music Set to Take Over…
"What's a…CD…" Ginny whispers over Hermione's shoulder, enunciating the word carefully.
"They're like tiny—what is that, what are you holding." Hermione meets Ginny's gaze, levelling her with a look she hopes conveys her disdain.
"It's called Dorothy! I'm not quite sure what that means, but since there will be muggles at the party, they might know!" She lets out a bit of a squeal and it takes everything in Hermione not to burst into tears. She can feel them brewing behind her eyes.
Ginny senses her discomfort, hanging the blue gingham plaid back on the rack. "Oh 'Mione, this isn't something bad, is it?" Her voice is innocent as she touches her arm gently.
"No Gin, no it's not bad, it's…" Hermione takes a deep breath and Ginny strokes her arm. "I almost forgot about it…My-my parents and I would watch The Wizard of Oz every year on Halloween night until I went off to Hogwarts…It is…it was mum's favourite…" There's sorrow in Ginny's brown eyes as Hermione blinks back tears.
"'Mione…I'm so sorry…" Her voice a whisper, Hermione takes a breath before smiling lightly.
"I think mum would get a kick out of me as Dorothy. And you're right, the muggles at the party will love it…It's perfect Gin…" They're silent for a moment as Hermione collects herself, steadying her breathing, focusing on the plan ahead.
"Now I have to find something…" Ginny whispers, elbowing her lightly.
They walk the aisles together, quietly pulling costumes, making faces and giggling to one another, thoroughly lifting the mood. Ginny decides on a mediaeval looking navy gown with extra long sleeves trimmed in gold thread. She looks like a princess from an Arthurian fairytale with a gold circlet perched atop her head.
When they get to a bistro, Ginny asks: "So that means muggles know about Merlin and King Arthur?" She blows on her coffee gently before taking a sip and discreetly casting a cooling spell. She settles back into the chair at the bistro table, taking another sip.
"Well, to muggles it's make-believe, it's an old fairytale, kind of like Beedle the Bard." Hermione explains while Ginny nods blissfully. There's a beat of silence between them and Hermione picks at her scone.
The café only had blueberry left, definitely not her favourite, she much prefers plain with a little strawberry jam. It's no surprise, the entire place is filled with young students excitedly talking about their upcoming Halloween plans.
"Do you know how Seamus met Michelle? I'm really hoping I'm not the only one out of the loop," Ginny says the last part quietly, clearly disappointed with herself. Hermione has noticed how hard Ginny is working, all of the extra hours she's putting in after practice, reading every book she can get her hands on about Quidditch and the history of the Harpies.
Sometimes when Hermione can't sleep, she finds Ginny in the living room, running through plays on paper, watching them over and over in a little hologram cast into a crystal ball.
"Apparently, Seamus got turned around at one of the entrances to the Ministry, walked right into the back room of her shop expecting it to be a portal. She thought she was being robbed and chased him out." Hermione smirks, "Next time you see Seamus, let him tell the story. He tells it much better, I promise." Ginny nods at her slowly.
Hermione wants to comfort her, to tell her everything will be okay, that it will all pay off in the end. But instead she just eats her scone, getting nervous of the crowd starting to form inside the café, needing something to focus on so she can drown out the claustrophobic noise.
"Miss. Grang-" Hermione cuts Connor off before he can even finish her name.
"You don't have to call me that, Connor. Please call me Hermio—Harry! You're early!" Her eyes widened in panic, head swivelling to find a clock.
"Thanks for showing me in, Connor. I appreciate it… I can wait until you're done Hermione, don't worry about it." He looks tired, purple bruising under his eyes, leaning against her cubicle and blinking at her slowly.
Gawain, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has had him working night shifts for the past month, even this last week he was working 24 hour shifts every other day.
Apparently there's a huge case happening and they're pulling trainees in. Ron's been equally as busy, but much more distant towards Hermione. She has a suspicion it has something to do with the Cannons, but is waiting for him to bring it up.
"Do you want to go and sit in the conference room? No one uses it this close to five…" she suggests as Harry sways on his feet. "You may even be able to get a quick nap in," she whispers the last part and he's already walking across the aisle. As soon as he shuts the door, Hermione charms the blinds closed, hoping to give him a small amount of peace for the next 45 minutes.
After twenty minutes or so, she feels a twang of nerves in her stomach when she grabs her bag and departs to the bathroom, deciding she won't be getting any more work done today.
Her and Harry are set to meet Ron and Ginny at half past five just around the corner from Seamus and Dean's flat.
Something about being around muggles makes her feel uneasy. Her parents used to be her lifeline back to the muggle world, their letters full of pop culture references that kept her in the loop. But now…
She pushes the thought aside, locking it away. Tonight is going to be fun.
Ten minutes later the office is empty and she emerges from the bathroom. Hair tamed into braided pigtails, blue gingham dress and red heels, she feels a lot less like herself.
Making her way to the conference room, she knocks gently, hoping it will wake Harry. She doesn't want to startle him, she knows how delicate he can be on this little amount of sleep. When she opens the door he blinks as if the light burns him, taking a moment to steady himself before standing.
"You look…" He puts his glasses on and focuses, "...nice…different, but that's the point really…" He shakes his head a little, running his hand through his already messy hair. Hermione notices a few drops of blood on his white t-shirt, his navy cardigan and black slacks making him look more put together than he is.
"Ginny gave me a hair tonic, I'm Dorothy. Have you ever watched the Wizard of Oz?" he gives his head a shake, clearly still waking up. "Where's your costume? Do you need to change before we leave?" Another shake of his head.
"Don't tell Ginny, I forgot about the party and bought these on the way over." He pulls a sad pair of plastic vampire teeth from his cardigan pocket.
"The fake blood is a nice touch, I think she will appreciate the effort." Harry gives a sad shake of his head coupled with a flush to his cheeks.
"It's not fake blood, it's not even my blood…" His brows furrow together like he's trying to remember whose blood is actually on his shirt and it takes everything in Hermione not to grimace distastefully.
"It's our little secret. We'll just say you're a grungy vampire, I think it will be popular with Michelle and her friends." She grabs his arm reassuringly and he offers a look of confusion.
"Grungy?" He says, gesturing for them to get going before checking his watch.
"I bought a muggle magazine and apparently Grunge music is all the rage…or maybe it's on its way out…" She bites her lip making an effort to recall what the article had said exactly. Truthfully she can't remember anything from the magazine, it's like her brain dumped the information, deeming it useless.
They make their way to the lifts without anyone bothering them. Hermione suddenly feels grateful for Ginny's costume choice. No one would ever expect the brightest witch of their age, Hermione Granger, to be in something so colourful.
Crossing the atrium on the other hand proved to be a little more difficult. A few reporters are gathering around the lifts on the opposite bay, waiting for the trials to let out so they can bombard the members of the Wizengamot.
Hermione's heels click against the tile, echoing in a foreboding manner, causing the reporters to turn. The group look like they're about to run over for a moment. She can see their eyes looking from Harry to herself, clearly second guessing if this is actually the boy who lived with some common tart.
"Come on, Dorothy! We've got places to be," Harry says loudly and the group looks away, their attention returning to the lifts.
She can just see it now, the headline tomorrow saying: The Boy Who Lived, Seen With a Common Girl in a Picnic Blanket. What will Ginny Think?
Grateful for Harry's quick thinking, they leave the ministry and arrive at the closest apparition point. With a pop, they come out on a corner street and it takes Hermione a moment to orient herself.
They arrive at the meeting spot at quarter past five and Hermione thinks it brings Harry a bit of relief that he has a few more minutes of quiet before going into the party.
"You haven't met Michelle yet either, right?" he asks, propping himself against the corner of a rowhouse. She shakes her head, ready to speak when the silence is broken by a loud crack of magic, followed by Ginny's furious tone.
"I do not care Ron! There will be muggles present and you thought it would be fine to show up as a Quidditch player. I just don't understand how you think this is—oh, you're both early." Ginny and Ron round the corner coming to a dead stop. Taking a moment, Ginny continues, "Ron has decided to out the wizarding community tonight by being lazy. Hold on a second, where's your costume?" She has her hands balled into fists on her hips, taking in Harry's dishevelled state.
Ron comes up sheepishly behind her in full Quidditch robes that are a little too dirty to be just a costume for tonight. Hermione does her best to calm the anger rising from the pit of her stomach, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes momentarily.
"I'm, uh.." Harry fishes the teeth from his pocket once more, popping them into his mouth, "I'm a vampire." He manages around the cheap plastic. Ginny lowers her fists, her face softening.
"The blood is a nice touch," she says with a smile, hooking her arm into his as Harry and Hermione share a knowing look.
Seamus and Dean live in a sweet old two bedroom flat above an Indian restaurant. The group lets themselves in and their front door opens right into the living room. Ginny seems surprised no one is there to greet them but Hermione can hear the commotion in the kitchen.
Hermione places her jacket on a familiar looking red velvet sofa.
"I think this may have been stolen from the Gryffindor common room…" Ginny whispers with a giggle into Hermione's ear. "I don't want to sit in the blue chair, you'll never find me!" She says a little louder gesturing to her velvet gown. She's not wrong, she matches the ominous wingback perfectly.
"You're much prettier than the chair, I promise," Luna announces coming from what can only be the kitchen. She's dressed as a lion tamer, in a red and black bodysuit with matching sequined jacket and tails. The top hat perched on her head shines in the dim light, a stark contrast to the leather whip curled tightly and clipped to an unseen belt.
Melody parades out behind her dressed as a tiny lion with a tuft on her tail and matching mane. She offers a menacing little meow before Luna picks her up.
"Luna! You look beautiful!" Ginny exclaims, pulling her into a tight hug, Melody letting out a squeak as she's sandwiched. Hermione takes this moment to disappear in search of drinks.
Seamus and Dean are in the kitchen together trying to figure out how to turn the oven on. They turn, startled to hear her come in and she can't help but smile.
Their faces are both painted white with grease paint, all of their features outlined in black. Dean grins, pulling back his painted-on skeleton teeth before Seamus does the same.
"Thank god you're here Granger, we can't figure out how to use this thing without magic." She flicks a few knobs, explaining as she goes and they reward her with a glass of muggle whiskey.
"I kind of like it better than firewhiskey if I'm honest," Seamus says with a grin, handing her a beer to take to Ginny.
"You seem a little nervous, Seamus," Hermione observes, using a bit of wordless magic to open the beer bottle.
"I just don't want to have to obliviate anyone tonight…" He confides with a stern look towards Dean.
"Alright mate it was one fucking time, never gonna let me live it down now are you—" There's a commotion from the other room and Dean gives a sigh of relief.
Ginny is all smiles, taking everyone's coats like she lives here. Luna and Melody sit perched on a floral bucket chair while Ron and Harry occupy opposite ends of the couch. They both seem tense and it sends a jolt to Hermione's toes.
Michelle and her gaggle of friends mill around the living room as she observes them from the kitchen doorway. She fiddles with her bracelet absently, wondering if Ron and Harry can feel her sense of worry.
"Michelle!" Seamus and Dean take over for Ginny who rushes to Hermione's side, grabbing hold of the beer.
"There's a lot of muggles here tonight…" Ginny takes a long sip before lowering her voice. "Michelle's got two friends with her named Sarah and they're both blonde and came in the same costume." They share a look before retreating to the kitchen.
The living room is filled with people perching on furniture, the whole mood lifted immediately.
"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione asks with a dumbfounded look, she takes a swig of her whiskey.
"Hermione, Michelle brought so many people. They just kept coming and there's two girls here with the same name, and to top it all off, they're wearing the same costume…" Ginny's face contorts for a moment, looking for the word before continuing "...spice? They're dressed as the same spice? Oh and I didn't even tell you the best part—" Ginny is about to speak again but is cut off by Michelle entering the kitchen.
"Hermione! Seamus has told me so much about you!" she announces. Tall and slight, her long limbs shown off by a short, tight, spaghetti strap dress. Her wide brimmed, pointed hat is the only hint to what she's dressed as.
"You must be Michelle." She offers a hand but is pulled in for a hug, Hermione inwardly chastises herself for being so adverse to affection.
"Oh my gosh!" Michelle's eyes light up as she takes Hermione in, she cracks a smile. "Well, are you a good witch or a bad witch?" Ginny freezes, hand tensing on her drink, eyes sliding to Hermione in panic. It takes everything in her to calm her screaming heart. She knows it's just a line from the movie, but the panic on Ginny's face makes her arm sting.
"You're definitely not dressed as Glinda tonight," Hermione says with a smile, touching Ginny's shoulder reassuringly.
"I was thinking about painting myself green! Gone full ugly witch of the west you know." Michelle offers a smile and Hermione can see Ginny boiling out of the corner of her eye but they're interrupted before she needs to intervene.
Another partygoer barges into the kitchen, clearly looking for drinks.
"Do you think Seamus bought any vodka?" she asks.
"Check the cupboard, Sar," Michelle says, pointing.
She knows she's been out of the muggle world for some time now, but truly being around them is really hammering it home. Hermione watches as the girl reaches effortlessly into a top cupboard, her white platform sneakers helping.
She turns, her pigtails in bobbles bouncing, "You're looking at me like I've got something on my face? Have I got something on my face?" She looks worried, her blonde brows knitting together.
"Oh, uhm I'm just trying to figure out what you're supposed to be…" Hermione flushes.
"We were all supposed to be dressed as the Spice Girls, but then we realised just having Posh and Baby didn't make any sense and Sarah and I already had our costumes so we're kinda stuck this way!" She gives a bit of a giggle, pouring a healthy amount into a teacup and gesturing to Ginny. "Although I wish Seamus had told us about you, you would have made a great Ginger Spice."
Ginny and Hermione share a look after the other girls leave.
They spend a few moments longer in the kitchen together, hyping each other up before embarking back to the living room.
It's packed, with people separating out into groups. Hermione can just see Dean in the corner with the blonde girl that she assumes is one of the Sarah's. Luna hasn't moved, sitting in the chair, stroking her little cat with fondness.
She looks for Ron, finds him in a corner with Harry and they're clearly arguing with one another. Harry's eyes flash with clear anger as Ron's shoulders deflate.
Ginny shoots Hermione a look before approaching the boys, both of whom promptly stop talking on their approach.
Hermione notes Harry's perturbed glare as he takes a long sip from his glass. Ron does his best to hide his embarrassment but clearly fails.
After some awkward small talk where Ron asks Hermione how her day went, Seamus and Michelle join in and the conversation takes a sharp turn. They float on topics of the weather, the area, how quirky Dean and Seamus's apartment is before Michelle decides to ask Ginny what she does for a living.
Hermione can see the utter panic on her face as she stutters out an answer before promptly running back to the kitchen claiming she can smell something burning.
Michelle moves her attention to her next victim.
"So, Hermione, did you have as weird of an upbringing as Seamus? I swear he grew up in a cult or something." Her tone isn't meant to be as harsh as it is, but from the corner of her eye, Hermione can see Harry almost spit out his drink.
"You can kind of say that," he mutters but Michelle doesn't hear.
"Oh uhm…I don't think my upbringing was that…weird…" Hermione takes a sip of her drink, "My parents are both dentists, we went to the theatre a lot when I was a kid, camped a bit…uhm…" She panics, struggling to remember anything mundane enough to tell Michelle from her childhood.
Oh Michelle, you'll never guess, I performed a bit of accidental magic at age eight. Oh Michelle, I went away to a boarding school for special children at age eleven. Oh Michelle, I wiped my parents' memories due to an ongoing war against a dark wizard at age seventeen…
Referring to her parents like they're still in her life drags up something deep within her, that is only fueled further by the whiskey in her glass. She has to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
"Dentists! Sounds posh…" Michelle offers her a little nudge, "...did all of you go to the same boarding school?"
"Mhm, we were in the same year…" Hermione drains the rest of her glass, beginning to feel the effects of the whiskey. Her fingers are warm and she can feel the healthy flush in her cheeks.
Michelle tries to ask her another question but one of her friends drags her into the kitchen on the hunt for more drinks.
Everyone present, Hermione included, lets out a collective breath. Seamus puts his head in his hand, scrubbing his face roughly as he perches on the arm of the couch.
"This is a lot more difficult than I thought…" he mutters to himself as Dean joins their little circle.
After a moment, Harry excuses himself, the conversation promptly drifting to Quidditch once he leaves. Ron and Dean are clearly trying to get out as much magical talk as possible before the muggles return from the kitchen.
Hermione takes the moment to refresh her drink and check on Ginny, not wanting to take part in the Quidditch talk.
Much to her surprise, Ginny is chatting with Michelle and her friends, looking relaxed as ever. They've found a common topic they both love, food. Michelle is pulling the hors d'oeuvres from the oven as Ginny peeks in the cupboards to see what else she can bring out.
"Do you know if Seamus usually has any goat cheese?" someone asks and Hermione can't tell if she's being serious. Seamus and Dean's apartment definitely does not have goat cheese.
Ginny makes a snarky comment about how they aren't the type of boys to have anything but condiments in their fridge and when Hermione opens it, she proves them right.
Past the cases of beer there's nothing in the fridge but mayonnaise and marmalade.
After grabbing another drink, she returns to the living room, having exhausted all the conversation she could possibly have with the girls in the kitchen. The last thing she wants to do is talk about food right now, her stomach already turning.
Dean claps her on the back when she stands next to him, "How does it feel to be with the latest Chudley Cannon!?" he exclaims. The white face paint worn off around his mouth from drinking, his demeanour has become much more relaxed.
"The latest what?" Hermione levels her eyes on Ron and she can feel the venom in her own gaze. Ron does nothing but pale further, his mouth opening before Seamus cuts him off.
"It happened today! There have been a few rounds of tryouts…" The rest of his sentence fades into the background as Hermione hears nothing but a dull hum. She had given him the benefit of the doubt, and had hoped he would tell her before she found out from someone else.
Her gaze locks onto Ron's and she can feel tears prick the backs of her eyes. They're supposed to be a team, they're supposed to have each other's backs, but at this moment he's never made her feel more alone. Hermione can finally sympathise with Ginny about being left out of the loop.
Michelle and Ginny interrupt them with smiles, offering plates of whatever the boys had hiding in their kitchen. Hermione knows Ginny charmed up a few things, there is absolutely no way Seamus and Dean had enough in their cupboards for all this.
She uses the commotion as the perfect time to escape, catching Luna's concerned look as she sneaks out the front door.
The curry shop below the flat is open late to serve the drunk clubgoers in the area and to Hermione's relief the lights are still on.
Harry is sitting at one of the small plastic booths, his back to the door, his head is in his hands. She startles him when she slides into the bench, he was definitely sleeping.
He looks worse than he did during the war. Pale and sallow, his eyes are hollow in the fluorescent overhead lights. His vampire teeth are sitting on the plastic table.
"When were you going to tell me?" she demands and it takes him a moment to register that she's speaking.
"Tell you what?"
"That Ron made the Cannons? That he's been going to open tryouts? When is anyone going to tell me anything?" she spits, her anger palpable but when Harry lets out a long sigh she realises he isn't the one she's mad at. Not him, not Ginny, she isn't mad at any of them. She's mad at Ron, furious at Ron.
"It's not my news to tell Hermione. Ron's been skipping out on shifts for the last month and going to tryouts." Her heart sinks, her mouth forming a hard line as Harry picks up a piece of naan, dipping it into the sauce on his silver platter.
"...for the last month?" Her voice is quiet, defeated, and all Harry can do is nod while chewing.
Since her birthday she thought things had been going well, they made more of an effort to spend time together. He seemed to be listening, she thought things were going well, she thought they were both making an effort to take an active part in each other's lives.
But Quidditch means travel and practice and more time apart. It means interviews with the paper and paparazzi following her around even more than they currently are doing.
It means he lied.
"Miss, if you are not going to buy anything I must ask you to leave." She turns and comes face to face with an older Indian man, his voice stern. She can feel it in her toes, the anger and bile rising, hitting her knees, her hips, the pit of her stomach where it mixes with all of the whiskey she drank upstairs.
"She'll just have the same as me thanks," Harry says, placing his hand over her clenched fist on the table. "I know how frustrated you are. Both Ginny and I have been telling him since the beginning that he needs to talk to you about this…"
Her anger lowers, settles just below the surface as she tries to see it from Harry's side.
"It's so inconsiderate," she spits, letting it bubble a little but keeping the tears at bay. All Harry does is nod, leaning back and blinking slowly.
"You don't have to justify your anger to me, I'm on your side…" The man returns, placing the platter of food in front of Hermione. "You should eat something…" His voice is soft.
Harry's not wrong, she can't remember if she's eaten anything yet today. That's been happening more often than she would like to admit, in fact the dress she's wearing is a size smaller than everything else in her closet.
She picks up a samosa, biting off a corner to let it cool. Ripping a piece of naan and dipping it into the sauce, the smell of spices enticing her.
"Do you ever just wish you could disappear? Back into the muggle world and work a job and just live out the rest of your life?"
"Lately that's all I've been wanting…but then I remember all my friends are here…"
Ginny comes into the shop to collect Harry and Hermione not long after they've finished picking at their food. The quiet moment between her and Harry quelled her anger until she sees Ron standing on the street with Luna.
She doesn't know what comes over her. The whiskey fuels her anger as she pushes past Ginny, going right for Ron.
"How dare you! How dare you not tell me!" She's shouting, with luckily no one, but their friends, to bear witness.
"Hermione I—"
"No! No you do not get to tell me to calm me down! You don't have the right to tell me how to feel." Her breath is ragged, falling from her mouth as she stares up at him.
"Please, will you listen—"
"NO. Ronald no, what were you expecting? What did you think I would say? Why wouldn't you just tell me?" The music from Seamus and Dean's has stopped. She turns to see the two of them looking at her through their open living room window.
Harry and Ginny are standing behind Hermione, not voicing their siding with her, but showing it. Luna's on the street corner, cradling Melody and when Hermione catches her eyes she gives a shrug.
"She's not wrong Ron." is all Hermione hears before she storms off.
She closes her bedroom door, shutting the world out and throwing herself onto the bed. She breathes, trying to remember a time before the anger, a time before the frustration and freight train of emotions.
But she can't. She can't take herself back to the time before the war.
That night she dreams of Lavender. She dreams of struggling to get to class and finding her and Ron everywhere. There's a nagging feeling as she turns a corner, late to potions where she finds Parvati glaring at her.
"Maybe Lavender and Ron were supposed to be together. Maybe you were supposed to die instead of her," she spits but it isn't Parvati's voice, it's someone else, someone more sinister.
Parvati's warm brown eyes shift to black, her long straight hair springing into tight coiling curls and her brown skin pales like life is being sucked from her. Bellatrix's mouth opens, her jaw unhinges, black hole of her throat growing before devouring her whole.
She knows she's screaming before she's pulled to wakefulness, knows everyone in the house has heard her but no one will dare to get up.
Down the stairs and into the kitchen she follows the familiar path. Throwing the fridge open, she finds the stockpile of chocolate, breaking off a piece before sinking to the floor. She closes her eyes and sees nothing but blackness.
The mind healer called it survivor's guilt, and said that most people who have gone through a traumatic period, like a war, have it. When she said it, when she named what it is that Hermione was feeling, it didn't make her better like she thought it would. She thought, once her problem had a name it would disappear.
Having a name for your feelings is half the battle, putting the tools in place is the other half. But she can't talk to anyone about it. No one will listen, and if they do she can see in their eyes that they're reliving it too.
Oh woe is me, the brightest witch of her age can't deal with her own guilt, or trauma…or a war.
She can hear someone else in the kitchen and hopes it isn't Kreacher. Opening her eyes, Ron is standing in the doorway. Shaking her head she begins to speak.
"I want to be alone right now."
Ron walks into the kitchen like nothing happened, like he hadn't just spent the last four weeks lying to her, like she hadn't screamed at him in front of all their friends. The bile starts to rise again, mixing with the hatred from her dream.
"I know you've been having nightmares again, maybe if you talked about them they wou–"
"I don't want to talk about them."
"The mind healer sai–"
"I KNOW WHAT THE MIND HEALER SAID!" Her breath is ragged, falling from her lips and she can feel herself shaking. Closing her eyes she takes a deep breath, wishing for herself to stop shaking. Wanting the pounding in her chest to just cease completely. She wants to disappear into nothing at this very moment.
"I think you should talk about them…that's what help–"
"You are not trying to give me advice right now Ronald, especially when you didn't say a fucking word to me about the Cannons. When were you going to tell me? When you disappeared for weeks at a time because of travel? Were you just going to lie to me the whole time? Tell me you're on an extra long case? Or were you going to let me find out through the papers?" She's gasping now, hurrying the air past her lips and into her heaving chest. She's standing toe to toe with him, unsure of how she got here.
She can't remember the last time they fought like this. Perhaps during the war, but that was fuelled by dark magic and frustration and this, this is just turmoil.
"I just didn't want…" He's looking away from her now, unable to keep her gaze and she presses further.
"Didn't want what? Your girlfriend to know you're changing your whole career path?"
"You would have said no."
"What do you mean I would have said no?!"
"I mean your life is here. Hermione, you're working for the ministry, you're going to make change, you're living your dream. So let me live mine."
"Do you understand how hard it's going to be for me to make changes? How many hours it is going to take? How slow it's going to be? How I won't be handed things like a spot on the team?" She wishes she could take it back the second it falls from her lips. She knows it's a lie, taking a deep breath she deflates.
"I've always wanted to be a Quidditch player. I've dreamed about it for as long as I can remember…so what if I used my fame to get it? You can use your fame to—"
"No."
"Hermione listen you can't—"
"NO." Pushing past him she goes for the kitchen door, throwing it open and making it into the living room before he grabs onto her elbow.
"Hermione wai—"
"Don't touch me!" Her voice echoes in the cavernous space, bouncing off the vaulted ceilings. A few of the light bulbs in the living room spark to life, humming before shattering.
She hasn't lost control like this with a bit of accidental magic in her life, even as a child her accidental magic had been controlled. This is nothing but raw emotion.
Ron lets go of her, taking a step back and for the first time ever he looks afraid of her. She's trying to catch her breath, trying to gulp down as much air as possible when there's a rustling coming from the couch. Her blood runs cold.
The two turn and come face-to-face with someone they've never seen before.
A brown haired girl sits, her wide green eyes flicking back and forth between Ron and Hermione. She's wearing a matching set of black silky pyjamas and eating cereal directly from the box.
"Who the hell are you?" It's Ron's voice that breaks the silence first, taking a step he places a shoulder between Hermione and the woman on the couch.
Hermione is staring into those unnerving green eyes and something clicks. She weasels out from behind Ron, levelling a glare.
"You! You're Melody, you're Luna's girlfriend! Have you been living here this whole time? Are you an unregistered animagus?" The words escape her mouth at breakneck speed and she still hasn't caught her breath.
Melody does nothing but nod slowly, eyes trained on Hermione alone.
She doesn't say another word, instead she stalks to the staircase, throwing one last venomous glance Ron's way.