She seemed to move rather slowly, looking down at him, looking down at him, though not completely all there. "Mr Potter, I didn't know you possessed the sight? It's such a joy to see young people embracing their gifts as they should," she slurred, giving him what many people would call a loving pat on the cheek, but the crack that sounded with her exposed palm making contact with his face told of a different story. He managed to get up and get her off of him just as a figure emerged from the room that she'd just fled from.
He saw Hermione move to shield the cooky Seer from one what seemed much more dangerous, one Josephine Granger. Her normal upbeat heel to toe step seemed to have been replaced with a swaying step, but her expression was that of a woman with murder on their minds, which didn't spell fortune for the woman cowering behind him. The two Granger women collided in what Harry could only describe as a fight for dominance, Josephine's gaze locked on Trelawney.
Hermione grabbed her mother by the waist, the two of them the physical embodiment of night and day, earth and snow, light and darkness. The Granger matriarch pulled at her daughter's hair, resulting in Hermione's eyes screwing tight, still pushing forwards, leading the woman towards the room she'd just come out of. "Get her out of here, Harry," she yelled when her grip started slipping.
"Come on, Professor," he said lowly, urging her towards the door, but she scoffed. "It's not my fault that what I said was true," she said scornfully her words causing her assumed rival knock her daughter to the ground, a shout escaping her when the redhead grabbed onto her ankle, her body falling to the ground and Hermione then decided to sit on her back, her knees pinning the woman's arms, leaving her to do nothing but scream obscenities at the Hogwarts professor, some which would likely make a drunkard on a Tuesday morning turn as red as a tomato. With that, Herry led his Divination professor out of the sitting area, her fit having had garnered the attention of other members of the house, all at varying ages and in different states o both dress and undress.
Once Hermione was able to haul her mother away to the depths of the home, which seemed much larger on the inside, Harry got a good look around. It was very similar to the inside of Grimmauld place, though there was no collection of House ELf skills, an all around sense of discomfort and dread, nor was there over a decade's worth of dirt, grime, and untouched dark magic. If anything, he felt like he was in some sort of psychedelic trance. The doorways were covered in flowers and beads, the scent unmistakeable of marijuana, There were piles and piles of pillows in the home, the walls lines with hookahs, piled with pipes and bongs, some having sex out in the open. He couldn't help but wonder what Hermione would be doing in a place like this. The girl he knew and grew up with turned her nose up to certain behavior, or at least he thought she would.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" He turned sharply to see her standing by the stairs, her eyes scanning the room of people. Where he expected to find disgust or scorn similar to that Trelawney had shown her mother, he saw sadness, pity, and something wise she couldn't quite place. "Not all things in this world are bathed in light," she started, his eyes travelling to her face, which looked as if she'd gotten into a fight. "Sometimes, beauty is dark, it's raw, and it makes you cry at the injustice of it." It was in that moment, that their dynamic seemed to change, and he was deeper entranced by the girl he called his sister. Her hair was a mess, scratches marred her pale skin, and there was dried blood in the corner of her swollen lip, but she was the most beautiful creature in the world, and he would kill anyone who opposed the sentiment. "Come on," she said, making her way up the stairs, stopping at the top ad taking a seat, it being evident that he was meant to sit beside her.
"This was an opium den in the sixties." She looked around, a frown on her face. "When my mother became of age, this is where she lived. The people here, they're all Seers. Wizardkind often likes to present it as this marvelous thing, this amazing gift that you're lucky to have because so very few people possess the Second Sight, but they don't tell you about this. They don't talk about the nightmares, the horrid visions, premonitions of death that are likely to sit with you until your own."
"They're so desperate that they often turn to drugs, sex, and drinking, just to stay so doped up or zonked that they don't even know who they are anymore. I can't count the amount of times in my life where I've walked into a room and seen someone hanging from the ceiling, lying on the floor and convulsing. I've seen blood paint the walls, everything, all because of a wayward vision. They wander the halls mindlessly, and Auntie takes care of them, tries to make it easier. When my mum came, she was seventeen years old venturing in the muggle world for the first time, with a head full of hopes and dreams, hoping to make a life for herself as a singer. She led a fast life, she did more drugs than should be humanly possible, and she overdosed five times."
"Mum and Professor Trelawney hate each other, if it isn't already obvious, and it's all because of me." He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand to stop it. "I'm not blaming myself, I'm just stating facts. If I wasn't in the picture, they would still be cordial, but it was through me that the ball started rolling. Actually, through Dad. I was the final nail in the coffin around the time I turned eight. They'd vowed to stand with each other until the end, to face this curse together. She didn't used to be like this, Professor Trelawney. She was just my Aunt Sybil. She and my mother vowed to never fall in love, to never bring a child into this world and chance cursing them with this way of living. Then mum met my dad." He watched that smile, it was a special smile, one only reserved for when she mentioned her parents.
"He convinced Mum to get clean. When Mum got clean, she began going to school, and she tried to get Professor Trelawney clean. That didn't work out, and they had a rather explosive fight. After the fight, things were said that obviously shouldn't have been, even though Mum won't tell me what they were, I know that they hurt in ways no one should. After that, Mum stayed away for a few years, and in that time, my parents married and adopted me. Though my mother technically kept part of the promise they made, She's never birthed a child into this world, but that was still an insult, still bad."
"Eventually, they reconciled their differences and everything began to go well. We met and we hit it off instantly, but as you can probably tell, that peace didn't last very long. I really liked her, I looked up to her, but then my mum learned that she'd done nothing to stop doing drugs and she had moved on to a plethora of other drugs. This was after she had found her job at Hogwarts, so she had a means to afford the habit. Even now, she's a functioning addict, it's why McGonagall wanted to protect her. She's made many enemies in life, trading off fake prophecies and false readings to dangerous people in exchange for drugs or loans. To put if frankly, she is responsible for over two thousand deaths, but since Divination isn't actually seen as a method of murder, she hasn't been convicted, no matter what anyone says. The weak and afraid are dangerous, but you know that," she said, both their minds immediately going to Peter Pettigrew, his fear leading to one of the most prolific deaths in the wizard world.
"When Mum found out about the false prophecies, she was absolutely livid. The Sybil she knew would have never done something like that, but the Sybil she knew was long gone, consumed by drugs, on the run from criminals. SHe said that she should quit at Hogwarts, that she was putting the students in danger with the things she'd done and begged for her to quit and come to the muggle world, where she could be protected."
"Trelawney told Mum that she was jealous, that just because her dreams died, that she couldn't destroy hers, that she would never understand how fulfilling it was, and that maybe she'd ask Dumbledore if Mum could replace Filch. Then, she would say things about me, imply to me that Mum hated me because I could do magic. That was the final straw and they got in a big fight. Mum banged her up really bad and the aurors were called. Because she's a squib, Mum was put in a holding cell at the Ministry for a weekend and she'd never forgiven her since."
They sat in silence for a while, Harry mulling over everything he'd just been told. "That's," he started, looking for something to say that wouldn't sound insensitive.
"A clusterfuck of shite no one should have to endure?" He jumped at the sound of Josephine Granger's voice, though Hermione didn't seem surprised. Nodding, he watched as she gave her daughter an apologetic look, the responding smile being enough to lift her spirits. "Come on, kids. We'd better be making our way home before dinner. You know how your father is about being late." Hermione scoffed, rising to her feet and pulling her mother into a tight embrace, surprisingly pulling the bespectacled boy in as well before the three of them headed on their way.
"Look who decided to come home." Despite the tone of his voice, it was clear that Mr. Granger wasn't angry. They all took their seats at the table, perfectly set for four, Hermione sitting in between her parents, across from him, offering him a small smile before they dug into their dinner, which was all his favorites, Shepherd's pie, steak and kidney pie, and once they were all stuffed, Mr. Granger's famous treacle tart, which made Hogwarts elves' tart taste mediocre at best. They all talked about their adventures in school, careful to leave out the Department of Mysteries, Mrs. Granger tossing Harry a beaming smile filled with pride that nearly made his chest ache as Hermione bragged about his teaching ability. Then they moved on to their plans for the next week when they all packed up to head over to Greece.
"Oh, Hermione. I forgot to mention," Mr. Granger said, rising to his feet and making his way to the kitchen window, holding up a letter. "Your friend Neville sent this over. You wouldn't believe the state of the owl that came, he looked like he was two days older than dirt but insisted on flying out, even when I tried to lock him in." The two looked at each other, Hermione grabbing the letter and reaching to open it, Josephine placing a hand over her own. "How about you and Harry go and read that one together. Upstairs yeah?" She looked at her with a confused expression, but nodded, motioning for Harry to come with them.
"Oh Neville," Hermione sighed, feeling her bottom lip quiver, Harry resting his hands in his head as he held onto Hermione. Neville Longbottom was a boy who held the world on his shoulders, and his weight had grown all the more heavy with the poisoning of Augusta Longbottom. The old woman was a fighter and she died with curses on her lips, cursing all who dared take her away from her grandson.
"He needs us, Hermione." Hermione looked up and nodded, knowing that between the three of them, there was enough loss to send even the strongest man to his grave. Rising to her feet, she fumbled for her wand, locating it on the bedside table before Harry quickly grabbed her arm. "We have to keep a calm head about this, Hermione. Neville's already hurting, we can't go like this." She nodded, closing her eyes, picking up the letter and skimming over it.
Hermione
I had this long, thought out letter that made everything make sense, heartfelt memories, me telling you that no matter what you looked like, you'd still be the first friend I ever had, but it's different now. I need you to get your ginger arse to St. Mungo's right this fucking second. My nan is dead, Hermione. She's dead and I have absolutely no FUCKING idea what to do. I know I shouldn't swear, this isn't acceptable, but I don't know what to do. She's gone and the last thing she said was that you needed to get you little ginger arse here right this fucking instant, so that's what I'm saying, what she said. Mum and Dad are pretty much gone, and now Nan? Who do I have? I know we have the manor, but I can't do it. I can't live there. Please hurry.
"What are we going to do?" She looked over at him. "We're going to get our ginger and inky haired arses to St. Mungo's right this fucking instant," she said, making her way to her wardrobe, pulling on a hoodie to cover up her midriff, searching through her drawers and pulling out a pair of long gloves, Harry collecting their wands as they hurried out the door.
"Take all the time you need, I love you! We'll come pick you up at the muggle entrance!" Hermione quickly hugged her parents, her mum catching Harry off guard when she pulled him into a large hug, hurriedly whispering for him to be safe as the Knight bus pulled in front of their house, the two of them jumping on and screaming for them to get to St. Mungo's and step on it, which in hindsight, wasn't a good idea as the bus took off at speeds that seemed unimaginable, the two of them barely managing to get a full grip on the poles as their bodies were nearly thrown back.
When they made it to the wizarding hospital, Harry looked more than a little sick, almost unable to keep up with Hermione, who took off faster than it seemed her little legs could take her, making him realize that she didn't have a single shoe on her foot. They entered the hospital, Hermione nearly tripping over the receptionist's desk, screaming Neville's name at the visibly shaken woman's face, which only seemed to become more nervous when he managed to catch up, blurting out the floor and room number, not even bothering to take the lifts, as she threw open the door to the stairs, scrambling up flight after flight with no sign of tiredness.
"Neville?!" She looked around as a visibly exhausted Harry burst out of the door, cursing his past self for not taking the lifts instead. "Neville!" When she spotted him, talking to a huddle of redheads, she broke into a run, the blond Gryffindor meeting her half way and scooping her off of her feet, pulling her into a bone crushing hug, which she returned with gusto. A ragged sob tore from his throat, one of someone who had lost so much in such little time, her hand rubbing soothing circles in his back soothing him as she shushed him, giving a hug that only Hermione Granger could give, one that made the world seem like it wasn't so bad of a place after all.
Once Hermione released him, she wiped her eyes, dusting him off, as if she was knocking off several layers of doom and gloom, before she was being pushed out of the way and everyone watched in surprise as Harry Potter, the most physically awkward person to ever live, pulled Neville into his arms. It was an embrace that it seemed only Harry Potter could give, one that said that no matter what the world threw at you, he would always be there to help you fight it off, from here to East Hell. It made the blond smile, and that was all he needed, something to smile for. He didn't need condolences, he didn't neep pity. He needed his friends, he needed to know that when he had nightmares, they would wake him up in the middle of the night and listen to him whimper and moan before he cried himself to sleep. He needed them.
Once the two were separated, Hermione was back to Neville's side, grabbing onto his hand and holding it tightly as the three of them faced the aforementioned redheaded clan, all holding their gaze. Hermione and Harry's eyes immediately went to Ron, who stood awkwardly in front of his parents, confusion written on his face, likely there when Hermione and Harry entered the hospital together. Ginny sat not too far off, sitting in a chair and glaring at Hermione, the twins seeming torn between whatever grudge Ginny and Ron seemed to be holding, while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley watched the interaction with fondness that all parents seemed to possess, watching children that they helped raise get along with others and comfor their friends in their times of need. Hermione wanted to go to them, but she also knew that her problems could wait, that there was always tomorrow, though it wasn't always guaranteed.
"I don't know what she meant, but she said that she was waiting on you. She said we all needed to be together, that she had something to say, but she," he stopped, choking on his words, dread filling Hermione's stomach as she realized what was being asked of her. Harry reached his hand over to her free one, holding it firmly, giving her a silent vote of confidence. "Let's go then," he said,motioning for everyone to follow.
"What are we waiting for?" Augusta Longbottom was beautiful, and despite Ginny's impatience, Hermione would revel in it as she stood at the foot of the hospital bed. There she lay, it could have been as if she was sleeping, as if Augusta Longbottom, a hard bitch who would stand in the face of Voldemort himself and try to strike him down if it meant keeping her grandson safe. Her usual scowl was gone, her dark brown tresses speckled with grey and hanging to her shoulders. A sigh escaped her as she sniffled, wiping her cheek.
"I can't do this, what if it goes wrong?" The dark haired wizard had watched her sit in silence and weigh her options for close to a half hour and she seemed no closer to actually making a move to do anything. "You're going to do just fine, Hermione. Lyra wasn't prepared, Augusta met her end fighting. It's different this time. There are no broken bones and no curses. Just an old battleaxe who is hell with a wand." Neville scoffed, offering Hermione an encouraging look, to do whatever his grandmother expected him to do. "Okay," she said, nodding in confidence as she made her way to Augusta's bedside.
Pulling her gloves fro her hands, she revealed the pale digits, which disappeared into her hoodie, a gasp escaping the Weasley matriarch and patriarch, as well as the twin siblings, though Hermione paid them no mind, clearing her throat as she reached out to touch the woman's hand, pulling back just before she made contact. Deciding that he'd had enough, Harry grabbed her by her wrist, placing her palm on the elderly woman's hand, the room letting out a collective scream as her eyes popped open and she screamed at the top of her lungs.