Wow, I am just amazed that there has been such a positive response to this story. Honestly it wasn't the story that I was going to start with, but I am truly happy that everyone is enjoying it. Thank you all so much for the follows, reviews and favorites. They are really spurring my creativity and keeping the muse going even through having strep-throat and feeling like crap. My muse wants to go to Barnes and Noble to be a hipster with my apple juice and flat bread pizza. I think that I will wait until I am not infectious anymore. Lol
Chapter 3
"Oh no Miss Granger, now is not the time for a kip. I listened to your little impassioned speech, blaming me for the fall of the wizarding world, now dying or not, you will listen to me."
Staring down coldly at the pathetically malnourished girl almost sprawled at the bottom of her staircase she knew as only an old and semi sentient painting could that there was nothing that could be done to fix the current ruins that their world had fallen too. This young woman was possibly the only sane minded witch or wizard left in Wizarding Britain if not further abroad if the portrait of Phineas Nigellus were to be believed. He had some inside knowledge after all in the affairs of the others outside of these decrepit walls. What the bloody hell had Kreacher been doing all these years? The chit would not thank her for what she was about to do, no she would not thank her at all, but it must be done, and she was the last one standing so to speak, she thought as she looked back down. Oh well, she would be standing again soon enough.
Looking to the being standing just to the left of the reclining girl, wringing his hands, unsure if he should offer assistance or his promise to essentially end her existence should the unscrupulous witches and wizards try to forcibly remove her from this property, she shook her head before calling out to him. "Kreacher."
Looking up at his long dead mistress with tired and slightly forlorn eyes, he replied "Yes Mistress, what can Kreacher do for his beautiful Mistress?"
"Well as I have been long dead these years, you can stop bowing and scraping to me."
Feeling his whole body shake at the order, he straightened up his spine and stood at attention.
"Kreacher, it is time…"
"Mistress?"
"Shore up the wards Kreacher, this house isn't going to come tumbling down until I say so. And do something to make Ms. Granger a bit more comfortable, it can't be a good thing that she is starting to cough up blood."
"Yes Mistress, Kreacher will do as Mistress asks, yes, yes right away."
With a snap of his fingers, the wards snapped into place around the townhome, essentially stopping the banging coming from the outside where several witches and wizards were throwing Bombardas' at the doors and windows, trying to find a week spot in order to enter. Another snap of his fingers had the intruders thrown across the street. Finally, he bent over the prone form of the witch Hermione Granger and touched her sternum, healing her ribs and her punctured lung. He tapped each of her knees and the sluggishly bleeding cuts began to heal and then he tapped her forehead, partially healing the concussion that she had suffered along with a few of the more brutal injuries that she had received when trying to leave Nott Manor.
Drawing in a deep breathe, Hermione felt herself being lifted and seated upon a comfortable settee that she did not recognize as being part of the household before. Opening her eyes, she found herself almost face to face with the portrait that she had been conversing with before. Feeling a bit of the surrealness surrounding her, she realized that she could breathe again and think almost clearly.
Trying to sit up, but not quite accomplishing the feat, she fell back against the cushions of the couch and met the eyes of the portrait staring at her.
"Kreacher, another cup of tea for Miss Granger, if you would and maybe something to fortify her a bit, she has a long journey ahead of her after all."
Quickly bringing in another tea tray filled with whatever nibbles he could find in the house, he set it next to the mudblood and quickly bowed before moving to stand next to the portrait.
Bewildered and unsure what was happening around her, she had to ask, "Am I dead? Did I finally die in this godforsaken place?" Why am I still in so much pain? Why am I still here staring at your portrait? Where are they, why didn't they come for me? Breathing much more rapidly, Hermione looked frantically around the room where she was situated.
"Miss Granger, whom are you looking for?" Asked Walburga in her most sanctimonious voice.
"Harry, Ron, Jesus my parents, was I really so evil that I would be left in hell alone? This hell with you and him." Cried Hermione pointing first to the painting and then to the house elf that stood sentient beside it.
"Kreacher, calm her…I can not speak with her while she is so delusional."
"There, there missy mudblood, it will be ok." Said Kreacher patting Hermione's hand before tapping her on her head.
Immediately her eyes closed, and her shoulders slumped.
"Kreacher!" screeched Walburga, "I did not tell you to put her to sleep yet, she has a concussion, she needs to keep her eyes open and listen to me, this is no time for a nap or for her brain to swell more, there are things to discuss and plans to be made."
"Oh my god woman, if I could close your drapes I would in a heartbeat to get you to shut the hell up" moaned Hermione. "This can't be my hell; this can't be my hell" she whispered to herself. "Oh god, is this purgatory?" she screeched as her eyes shot open again.
"For Merlin's sake girl, calm yourself. You are not dead, you are not in hell, nor are you in purgatory. You are at Grimmauld Place. Ancestral Home of The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, former home to myself, my husband Orion and my two children Sirius Orion and Regulus Arcturus Black."
"Yes, yes…" interrupted Hermione ranting slightly "Former Head Quarters to the Order of the Phoenix and later the Order of the Ferret… Why am I not dead? Why won't you both just let me die? There is nothing left for me to do here. I have no allies, no potential allies. Every magical that is left believes in His word! I just want to be left to die in some semblance of peace, to move onto my next adventure that hopefully does not involve adventure of any kind, jus a boring exhistance with boring friends, a cat and my parents…. please just let me go." She finished with a tired sigh slowly closing her eyes against the fierce stare of the portrait in front of her.
"I'm sorry Ms. Granger, but you are far from finished with your work, I am afraid that you are just beginning."
"No! I refuse! Screamed Hermione as she tried to stand. "I tried everything to fit into this world, I tried everything to educate this world and I have tried everything to save this world! You know what, you people never wanted me here in the first place! I don't know why the hell they invited me, but I wish to God that they never did!
"Miss Granger…. interrupted Walburga.
"No! I have lost everyone! I lost Harry and Ron and every other friend and ally that I have ever known. I lost my parents. I never got to have a childhood, between the troll and Voldemort, the basilisk and Voldemort, the time turner, the Triwizard tournament, Umbitch and Him! I never got to fall in love, Christ I never even got to date because I chose this world, I chose this world over my own and now I just want it to end. Let this fucking world burn. I'm done."
"Miss Granger!" Screeched Walburga, "You will cease this incessant ranting at once and listen to me! I don't give a bloody care if you think that you are done. You are the last witch standing and you need to know a few things before you roll over and play dead, like that son of mine. You need to understand what they did to you before you give up without a care, what they did to all of you in their quest for The Greater Good."
"Oh my god." Cried Hermione scrubbing her hands across her eyes and into her hair where she tugged on her curls, 'You have had years to tell me this stuff, why didn't you tell me two years ago instead of screeching at me and everyone else that entered this death trap? Hell, why didn't you tell me in 1996 when I came here for the first time? Why are you waiting until the wolves are at the door to tell me this mysterious information?"
'Because I couldn't!" yelled the portrait "This whole house was under His control from the moment my son let him in the front door!"