Chapter Fifty-Five: Sacrifice
The sacrifices demanded by the soul magic are unexpected.
(i) The characters and world of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this.
(ii) Thank you to all the readers who have stayed with me through the writing of this tale. Your patience has been truly amazing and your continuing reviews are so appreciated. I promise I will finish this story. It will not be abandoned.
(iii) And finally, a big, big thank you to the fantastic disillusionist9, the loveliest beta and go-to girl. I'm so pleased to have your help. She's an angel and ALL mistakes are my own.
Hermione had no concept of what was happening, but her soul's connection to Severus hung onto their golden bond instinctively in the miasma of pain as the hex took effect. Nothing existed but pain, though she could feel it eventually reach its zenith and stop when she felt Severus' hands touch her.
What seemed like a long while later, Hermione felt her adopted parents; the silver bright toughness of Lucius' tenacity and power and Narcissa's gentler, softer antique gold affection and love twining themselves around her and buffering her from the heat of the invasive whiteness. Hermione didn't felt guilty in cleaving to them and the safety they offered. She'd never known brilliant whiteness could hurt so much.
Time held no meaning in the fury of the pain. Hermione knew on some level she was being cared for, but all she felt initially was pain, until the people she was bound to on some level began to slowly leach some of the pain away. Then she'd resigned herself to the agony because it seemed like dulled embers in comparison to the initial fury of the pain.
What felt like aeons later, Hermione felt a kind of barrier break down and she slipped even deeper inside of Severus. Nothing was really clear. Thought was too concrete a term for what she felt, but there was some kind of pathway opening up to her, a choice offered. Hermione took it, knowing only going forward towards the dim, inviting darkness offered her security and safety. She dove in and found within comfort, protection and a kind of cosy interior so needed after the glaring, merciless, white light. Hermione revelled in the warmth, the security, and embraced the darkness she found inside of Severus. Severus' darkness was a shield of soul and love, possessing an obsidian-like strength to fight the blazing cold whiteness attempting to penetrate their bond. For Hermione, the security of Severus' shield was a haven of protection from the white hot fury of the hex working to ravish her, continuing to ravish her when she thought about turning back. In truth, words like hot and cold weren't the right ones; they didn't describe the pitilessness, mercilessness of the brilliant white light.
But eventually, in a sea of nothingness, Hermione was at peace. She was loved, she was protected and, she suddenly realised, completely taken care of. She knew she could hide in this cosy darkness forever. If this was her soul, taking refuge within Severus', then she knew he'd protect her until the last breath left his body. There was comfort in that. They'd depart this life together.
But all too soon she could feel Severus, Lucius and Narcissa trying to pull her back towards the merciless whiteness. She knew they meant well, she knew they urged her because they wanted to bring her back to them in physical form, and yet, she didn't want to leave the perfection she'd found within Severus. He completed her. She completed him. They were the world to each other and to leave such perfection was unfair.
But Lucius' love was like a sharp, hard shove, which thrust her towards the cushioning warmth of Narcissa and got her to move from within the confines of Severus' soul towards the whiteness. Hermione wanted to stay ensconced within Severus' protection, but she couldn't resist the urging of those who truly cared for her. They all, the three people who meant so much to her, wanted her to return, and so she did. Like a great beast slowly uncurling from around Severus' soul, Hermione unwillingly, grudgingly moved back towards the pain.
Couldn't they understand how much it hurt? The brilliance tore at her, pulled her apart and tried to shred her to pieces. But no, there was Narcissa's golden love, begging her to keep moving forwards. Once again trusting this woman who had replaced her own birth mother in her deepest of hearts, Hermione followed the warmth of the loving golden light. Severus' midnight darkness, Lucius' bright silver fury and Narcissa's golden warmth surrounded her, taking the merciless white light into their souls, acting as a shield as she finally slipped fully into her mortal body.
Oh the pain. What pain. And yet, she could feel these three pouring their love into her. More, she could feel Lucius, like the avenging archangel Michael, fiery sword at the ready, standing guard to prevent her slipping back along the golden bond to Severus' soul.
And suddenly she could feel other colours, other loves pouring themselves around the love and devotion Severus, Narcissa and Lucius used to surround her. They were beating off the pitilessness whiteness. She could distinctly feel Harry's dark crimson. It was as bright as a ruby: pulsing, strong and insistent, warming the merciless white. Then she could feel Luna's sun-dappled ocean sky blue: a mix of warmth, of laughter, of joy slipping into her very being. Luna's love was so comforting, like memories of summer days, of picnics they'd shared beside Narcissa's beloved Japanese water garden.
The pain was easing. She knew they were fighting it off for her. Her soul began to uncurl when more warmth hit her. This was Ron. It had to be. His soul the colour of his beloved Chudley Cannons's orange, it held flavourings of his gregariousness and boisterousness. Suddenly Percy was there. His soul shone like a bronze shield, fighting the merciless whiteness with diligent persistence. Percy's true brotherly affection for her allowed him to stand before the pitiless light unflinchingly. Then she could feel the gentle gold of Astoria. She wasn't a fighter, and the merciless whiteness arrowed itself, pushing towards the young woman like a blazing spear point. Hermione's soul tried to scream in warning. Oh 'Tory! But, suddenly, here was Draco. His silver a gentler thing to his father's, but just as strong, just as resolute. Draco pushed away the whiteness from both his beloved 'Tory and Hermione. He was like a warrior dragon, fighting the white fury now being pushed away on so many fronts. Astoria's golden glow grew stronger with Draco's presence and it was like watching the sun and the moon collide and collaborate to surround Hermione. They worked as one, Astoria's warmth and love, her gentler heat working with and through the colder fury of Draco's silvery light to give Hermione the support she needed.
So many colours. So many loves. Then, Harry's ruby was unexpectedly suffused with a gentler, mellower gold, like the best Bordeaux wine infused with sunshine.
Oh, thought Hermione. Claudia.
Hermione could sense the Veela's love and almost see the glow of her gratitude in being permitted to take part in the breaking of the curse. Claudia's joy in being worthy to work magic alongside her hero Harry made Claudia's colours twine and dance around those of Harry's. For someone who claimed she was weak, her commitment to the people she'd claimed as kin was phenomenal. As Claudia and Harry's desire to protect collided, Hermione could almost see how their combined warmth shoved hard against the whiteness. The merciless brilliance seemed to shudder at this fresh attack. There was a moment of stillness, then it collapsed in on itself like a disappointing soufflé.
For a moment, Hermione thought she was free. But then, she could see the seething whiteness yawn, and sensed the anger grown more fierce within the brilliance. The white light blazed cold and harsh. It seemed to be drawing more whiteness from all of the people, their colours darkening as the whiteness thinned to reach out and feed off the people surrounding her. Hermione knew they were in pain now, because she was devoid of much of the pain which had been a part of her for so long.
Hermione didn't know how to help, what to do. She was powerless. They, her champions, were under threat and she didn't have the tools to fight for them. Then, unexpectedly came the fragrance of warm tea. The type of tea made from the best of Ceylonese Broken Orange Pekoe with a hint of citrus and malt to infuse its rich blend. It was the scent of afternoons by the fire with scones, jam and clotted cream.
The thwarted whiteness was almost comical as it tried to understand and battle the fragrance in confused fury. It couldn't fight an aroma. It seemed to scuttle around the group, trying to find the person it needed to penetrate but even as it did, the scent strengthen, settled. This was Tansy. It had to be. Like the many cups of tea the elf made for her mistress, she was strong and warming; there was nothing a perfect cup of tea couldn't fix.
Then Hermione was convinced she could feel her father. Was he really here? He was the colour of freshly mown grass. Green and full of life, he was gentle and kind, yet somehow eternal and ever fresh. His love, his sorrow at forsaking her infused her. Hermione was strong enough now to send him her love, send them all her love. They were fighting for her and she could finally begin to fight back.
Who was this? This cobalt blue like a blazing sapphire? Hidden for the most part because of all the golden and silver glows, she could now start to see it. This could only be a Ravenclaw with their distinct intellectual hue. Oh, yes. Professor Flitwick. Hermione knew then he loved her. And now she could feel it; his pride in her achievements, his delight in the quickness of her mind. Oh, to know how much he loved his art and her for being so naturally talented in it. He wanted to train her up to fill his shoes one day. Her delight in knowing he thought her worthy propelled her further. She would be worthy.
Then even more colours were slipping in to swirl around the people already surrounding her. Now she lost count, they weren't there only for her, they were there fighting for those fighting for her. It was a circle, being strengthened by more, and yet more. What love. To be at the epicentre of such devotion was humbling. She'd brought their love to the fore and now, the white light, cold, pitiless and merciless… it had nothing, nothing at all to cling to.
It turned, growing smaller and smaller, still trying to tear bits of power away from the people around her, but it had lost its potency. It was dying. It fought to the last, but finally, like a puff of dark smoke, it went out. The cold white light was gone.
Severus felt Hermione's pain and bewilderment at being forced to leave her safe cocoon. But Lucius' power and Narcissa's warmth had propelled her and she'd listened to their pleadings and left his safe and protective soul. Severus felt his own soul cry out. He didn't want to lose their wonderful bond either. But he'd willingly sacrificed his joy in having her take succour from his soul if it gave him back his Hermione.
A part of Severus felt what Hermione had experienced as the curse was broken. Linked as they were on a soul deep level, there was no way to not feel the colours pulsing through Hermione. Even as the pain began to penetrate deep within him, Severus did nothing to stop the rainbow of hues infusing him through their shared bond. He only knew each time the pain and the light attacked him that he sent everything he had in him out to fight it. And each time he felt a bit of his soul tear and give, some of the colours slipped in to make up for the sacrifice. He had no idea of what it all meant, but it didn't matter. He was not going to stop until the curse was broken. He would sacrifice whatever was required by the magic. He loved Hermione and he would die for her if need be.
The curse was broken. Severus felt his body sag as relief poured through him. He allowed himself to slump over the bed, still gripping Hermione's hand. For the first time since she had been hexed, he felt his beloved respond by squeezing his fingers.
The tiredness and pain vanished in an instance. All he felt was enormous jubilation. They'd done it. She was well. As he sent his magic pulsing through their bond, he felt her soul, whole and healed, bright, shining and luminous filled with love, sending him love and devotion in immeasurable quantity.
He felt more than saw Poppy and Tisiphone surrounding Hermione and casting diagnostic charms. He heard their delight in her perfect recovery. He heard the others' shouts of joy and celebration, but all he could do, when he had the strength, was gaze at the shining eyes of his beloved. Their eyes spoke and communicated their love for each other. They now knew how much they meant to each other. He didn't care what anyone thought; he leaned forward and rested his forehead against her.
"I love you," he said hoarsely. He could hardly recognise his voice. He had no recollection of what could have made him sound this way.
Hermione's eyes were gems of topaz as they met his. "And I love you," she said softly. Then, extending her hand to grasp Lucius who was still standing by her bed, Narcissa clasped firmly in his arms, "I love you all. I could feel it. I could feel you."
Hermione didn't realise it but tears were streaming down her cheeks. As Lucius and Narcissa slowly helped her sit up, she reached out to hug each of the thirteen in turn. Hermione kept murmuring to them all she loved them.
"I could feel your love," Hermione said to her father, who had held back, being the last to be embraced. As Roger kissed her forehead, Hermione said quietly, "I've never stopped loving you."
Emotions ran high in the wake of the casting. Even Molly was crying while she was held by Arthur, Bill and Percy. The Weasleys were knot of people, all of them laughing and crying, knowing despite the Darkness that had produced this horror, that at this moment, they were victorious. Their Light had helped push back the Darkness.
As emotions finally settled and the Hogwarts, Lestrange and Malfoy elves produced a feast for lunch, the different matriarchs all vying to serve their masters and mistresses, Molly finally got a good look at Severus. She'd not paid the Dark Wizard any attention after the breaking of the curse. All of her attention was on Ron and Percy, seeing her two sons' delight in their magnificent performance. She'd been so proud of Bill, to see him do his appointed task so successfully. She'd even gazed in wonder at the sheer vitality and Light shining from Hermione as she'd spoken words of love and reconnected with each of the thirteen who'd taken part in the ritual. Now as she allowed one of the Hogwarts' elves to dish out leak and potato soup, she looked up to see Hermione being led to the table by Severus and her father.
For a moment, Molly doubted the evidence of her own eyes. What was she seeing? How had she never noticed how jaw droppingly gorgeous Severus was? Unable to contain herself, she'd reached out and touched Fleur who was sat right next to Bill who was seated to Molly's left.
Fleur met her mother-in-law's shocked gaze and then followed Molly's pointing hand to look at Severus.
Fleur's shocked, "Mon Dieu," was loud enough to get others to turn and look at the Frenchwoman, and then follow her gaze to examine Severus.
There was laughter from Lucius who was one of the first to twig on to what had happened. The patrician's sardonic laughter was joined by Claudia's giggles.
Severus' frown was finally answered by beaming Narcissa. "Darling, I think your Veela colours are shining through."
Claudia nodded her head. "It must have been the sacrifice required of you. Your protective-anti-glamour which has been hiding your Veela beauty has been removed."
Severus scowl was fierce. But now, it just looked ridiculously sexy. "Oh, Merlin," said Minerva, mopping the tears of mirth streaming from her eyes. "That look isn't going to work any more, Severus."
Severus turned to Hermione. She shrugged her shoulders. "Don't look at me. I've known you were gorgeous from the start."
Severus frowned again. He was speechless. He wanted to rush off and examine himself in a mirror, but he couldn't leave Hermione's side at the moment. It was hard not to fidget. He didn't like being studied with such scrutiny. It made him feel eleven again.
Luna smiled softly. "Hermione's right. I've always known you were beautiful, but now, your aura's clear for all to see. The opaque covering which encased you is gone. I can see your light, and it shines very brightly."
Claudia nodded. "Your aura is almost blinding, but it isn't a hurtful brightness, but something inviting like a warm fire on a cold winter's eve."
"What the hell?" said Severus finally.
It was slightly disconcerting but very adorable to see her Severus so flummoxed. Hermione tried to hide the soppy grin on her face. She was delighted the world would finally see how amazingly wonderful her Severus was. His aura so infused with Light was a thing of beauty. There was no way he could be dismissed as a mere Dark Wizard. He may have walked in the path of Darkness, but his choices over and over again had proclaimed him and claimed him as one of the Light.
Severus didn't know how to express himself. He'd expected all kinds of sacrifices, all kinds of changes to himself. But he'd not expected his physical form and his aura to change.
Molly's eyes are as big as saucers as she looked at him. "You're sexy," she said in a still astonished voice. It was clear she couldn't quite believe what she was saying.
Poppy chuckled. "What Molly means Severus is you're eye wateringly dishy. The students are going to get an eyeful when you eventually leave the Infirmary."
Filius smiled gleefully. "Well, this is one problem we hadn't anticipated."
Minerva nodded her head in agreement. "Life never seems to settle down to dull and boring does it?" She sighed dramatically, her eyes beaming. "Oh well. I think I'm going to enjoy seeing the students bumping into furniture as they try to puzzle out why you're suddenly looking so different. And yet," she stopped and considered, "not so different at all."
Bill grinned. "Well we knew we'd all have to sacrifice something but soul magic is so different. What it considers a worthy sacrifice is not what we'd consider to be a sacrifice most probably."
Hermione chewed her lower lip, thinking. "I don't think it is the soul magic's doing," she said at last. "I think, given what I felt, if felt is even the right word; what you've all probably lost, or given up is some form of personal Darkness. I think the hex tried to bolster and strengthen itself when it was being attacked by your soul magic by leaching out your own personal weaknesses. As if by drawing out your Darkness, and my Darkness, too, it could become a thing of even more power. It felt really weird, actually. The Light, the Goodness, felt like comforting warmth, a cosy darkness, whereas the Darkness was a Merciless, Pitiless Fury and felt like the most brilliant of whiteness. But it was a whiteness which had nothing in it. It was a killing whiteness in its brutality. It destroyed."
Lunch over, the Weasleys retired to the series of rooms leading off the chamber occupied by a still sleeping Ginny. The family did not want to leave the castle or their youngest. Molly especially felt battered and bruised down to her soul. They'd all gone through so much since they'd arrived at the castle the previous evening. Winky and Binky were sent to the Burrow and Shell Cottage and returned with clothes and toiletries for all the Weasleys. Now, they went to wash, dress and meet up to talk about what next to do about Ginny.
They as a family knew they had a reprieve for the moment. Kingsley was confident the castle would ensure Ginny did not leave the confines of their rooms. Hermione, Severus and the Malfoys had all retired to the Headmaster's Chambers to rest; Harry, Claudia, Astoria and Luna joining them. Minerva's task was to make sure the castle continued to run as usual. It was a good thing the students had the morning off to enjoy a break following last night's Ball. But lessons were due to resume after lunch and the Deputy Headmistress had a class of second-year students to teach.
Bill and Fleur relaxed in their guest four-poster after their showers. Bill was tired, but still buzzing with the exhilaration of the magic they'd all performed. And to know he'd been instrumental in breaking such a personal curse on so many levels was very satisfying. It was not like doing something he enjoyed for the Bank, it held much more meaning.
"I'm zo proud of you, my Biill," said Fleur, who was lying on her side, stroking her husband's muscular chest. "And I felt the babee inzide of mee react when I went to hold Claudia. The magic touched all of uz in the circle. Eet will do good to your mozher az well. I theenk all ze family zhat waz in ze room will benefit."
"I hope so," said Bill turning to his side to face his wife and pull her closer to him. "Ginny's Darkness is so deep I can't even begin to think how far inside her it is. And to think, none of us knew what was going on. I kept an eye on her when we first heard about the Darkness from Severus. I know Dad did, too. But we missed this."
"We will work on it togezher," said the Frenchwoman. "And if love healed Hermione, then it iz love that will heal Ginny, too."
Bill sighed and kissed his wife. "I'm glad you're with me. You're right. The key to healing Ginny is love. I'm sure if all of us who put our heads together to heal Hermione work on Ginny's Darkness, we'll beat it too. But will the Malfoys help?"
"I theenk zhey will," said Fleur thoughtfully, settling her belly more comfortably against her husband. "Narcissa Malfoy for one haz a good heart. Anyone who waz willing to do what zhey did for Hermione will help with Ginny's healing."
Eventually, Fleur dozed off. Her pregnancy made her more tired, and she wasn't still buzzing with adrenalin. Bill lay with her for a while, but feeling the need to do something, got up and returned to Ginny's room. He sat, staring at his baby sister and wondering how best to help her.
Not long after he was joined by his father and Percy. Both looked like they'd showered and changed, but not got much sleep either.
"Is Mum okay?" asked Bill, quietly.
Arthur nodded. "She's exhausted. I got her some Dreamless Sleep from Poppy."
Bill sighed. "Good. She needs to sleep. Now, what happened when you were with Ginny?"
Arthur pulled up one of the armchairs the castle had provided in Ginny's room and sat down to narrate all he'd seen and heard.
Percy walked over to the little sideboard and made them all strong cups of tea. This wasn't going to be a pleasant narrative.
George walked in then, the room suddenly filling with Weasley men. Only Ron and Charlie who'd never been involved in all of this were missing.
"If you're going to talk about Ginny, wait till Ron's here," said George. "We all need to be a part of this."
Arthur nodded and took a drink of his tea. "If I had realised you'd all be here, I'd never had thought of excluding you. You boys more than proved your worth as men this afternoon. I'm so proud of you all."
Percy blushed as he began pulling chairs to form a semi-circle around his father, Ginny's bed still in sight so they could watch her while the narrative continued too.
Once Ron had settled down, Arthur began with a reminder. "Your mother will need to be loved unconditionally by us all," he said soberly. "Ginny's ranting, there's no other word to describe what she did, really troubled Molly."
Bill nodded. He understood what his father was saying.
"And Ginny?" asked Ron, seeing the dots needing to be connected.
"More than ever before," agreed his father. "Ginny blamed Hermione for stealing Harry from her. She blamed Lucius for the cursed diary, for getting Riddle into her mind. She said she'd fallen for Tom, how he'd loved her and would have continued to love her if she'd not made the mistake of telling him all about Harry Potter."
George groaned. "Fred and I should have noticed she was being different. We were so busy having fun in school we let her down."
"I did, too," said Percy quietly. "I was so happy to be Head Boy. I had Penny and I didn't look after her enough either."
"We can't blame ourselves alone," said Bill firmly. "The blame lies in what happened afterwards, too. Dumbledore never came right out and told us the dairy was a Horcrux. If we'd known it was such a terrible thing, we'd have done something more definite to ensure Ginny was healed. But he brushed it under the carpet."
Arthur sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Yes, Dumbledore was at fault. But so were we. We all didn't push. We allowed ourselves to be placated. And we can't exclude Ginny from the blame either. Harry was a Horcrux for much longer. And he has worked so hard to fight his Darkness. And he had Riddle in his head since he was a baby."
George nodded. "Harry's worked hard to get over the Darkness."
"Ginny's convinced she's the one being victimised by everyone. She's not seeing her own actions rationally. She thinks she's been used, abused, discarded, and she's owed by the world in general, but especially the Malfoys and Hermione for all she's been forced to endure. She is determined fame and fortune are hers by right, that she should be the one to take the kudos for being right and just in some way. But she got confused when Molly asked her what she deserved acclaim for." Arthur sighed and stretched out his legs to sit more comfortably.
"How did Mum take all of this?" asked Ron curiously, looking across to stare at his still sleeping sister.
"As you can imagine," said Arthur dully. "She was hurt, upset. She didn't think her daughter could use the language she did, or express such hatred for Hermione and the Malfoys. It's as if the Malfoys symbolised all of the Death Eaters and the Purebloods together."
"Well, they do," said Percy soberly. "If these thoughts are in any way shaped by Riddle's influence then he must know he'd never have managed to get any kind of power and standing if it wasn't for the Malfoys backing him."
"I suppose," agreed Arthur.
"Fleur suggested that if it was love that healed Hermione, then it would be love too that was the key to breaking Riddle's hold on Ginny. And if as you're suggesting, she thinks she's owed acceptance, love, devotion, then there's a part of her psyche that's being honest enough to understand these are the things she desires. They are the tools we'll need to break Riddle's yoke." Bill finished his thoughts by draining his cup of tea.
"It's not going to be easy though," said Ron. "Harry's been working on his Darkness really hard. I have too, but perhaps not as diligently. But, how do we express our love for Ginny without it being tainted by Riddle's whatever it is he's left in her mind?"
"It can't be a Horcrux," said George. "Draco said how the Dark Mark had almost vanished from his arm, and from Severus' and Lucius' too. That's why this came as a surprise. The last time the Mark only faded. It didn't almost vanish. They knew, they always did he'd be back in some way."
Bill frowned and got up to pace on the faded silk rug which lay before the window. He stopped and looked out over the roofs of the Greenhouses. His words when they came were low, more thought expressed out loud than clear articulation. "I know I've read something about the way healing is done in rural African villages. Something about the person committing a crime being apologised to. For the person who committed the crime did so because the rest of the village had failed as a community to teach the person good morals and behaviour. So the person's crime was actually the fault of the village. And until everyone had apologised and told that person how they felt, and that person had understood and learned what morality was, the apologising would continue. I'm not sure of more than that. But I'll do some research. And then, perhaps if something like that is tied in with soul magic, we can heal Ginny."
A/N: Love it or hate it, please let me know what you think.