On Teenagers & Love

a story by anamatics

Part Two

Chapter Eighteen - On Loss


Hermione has had many brilliant plans; this is not one of them. She's told Umbridge that they're building a weapon to help Dumbledore in the Forbidden Forrest, where Hagrid's brother is hiding. She doesn't know what she's doing, but knows that Umbridge may actually try to use an unforgiveable on her if she does not execute this exactly as planned.

Also she really doesn't have a plan, so there is that too.

Umbridge insists on leaving the others in the arms of the Inquisitorial Squad (and Professor Snape who, if he knows what is good for him, is attempting to figure out if Sirius Black truly is in mortal peril). She leads Harry and Hermione at wand point out towards the Forbidden Forest, all the while cackling with glee. Hermione hates her so, so much. Umbridge is demanding to know if the secret weapon is in Hagrid's hut.

"Of course not," Hermione replies scathingly. She's not above criticism of Hagrid because of his poor decision making skills and questionable definition of the word 'adorable.' It's easy to put all of her emotions regarding that situation and force them forward as ire. She knows that that will keep Umbridge interested and not seeing through their bluff. "Hagrid might've set it off accidentally."

Harry looks at Hermione sharply when she says this, but Hermione just turns her nose up and stops at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She really doesn't want to walk into a place like that unarmed, but they really have no other choice.

"Yes," Umbridge says excitedly, her eyes bugging out a little in the wand light. "He would do something stupid like that, the great half-breed oaf." She laughs after this and Hermione can see Harry's jaw clenched tightly and his throat bob ominously. Her own temper has spiked, because Umbridge's prejudices are so completely outlandish that it's positively ghastly. She reaches forward and points to the forest when Umbridge asks where the weapon is once more.

They're made to go first, walking behind Umbridge with no wands and Hermione is starting to feel very worried. She's not sure if she should take Umbridge to Grawp or try and get her to intercept the mob of angry centaurs that are sure to be waiting for them. Thinking that Grawp's presence might actually prove useful at some point not right now, Hermione changes course and speaks as loudly as she can to Harry and Umbridge, telling them it's just a bit further.

"I'm really sorry," she adds to Umbridge a few minutes of walking later. "I know we're going the right way, I've just never done it when it was this… dark." She wiggles her shoulders a little bit, trying to make it look like she's far more uncomfortable than she is.

Umbridge trips over an exposed root a few minutes later and Harry hurries to catch up with Hermione, neither of them wants to help her up. "Look, Hermione," Harry whispers, "You got to keep your voice down, we could be heard."

"That's what I want," Hermione replies with an almost wicked smile. "You'll see."

It isn't long before the arrows start to fly and Hermione finds herself grinning triumphantly at the realization growing on Harry's face. "You're mental," he whispers as a loud, booming voice echoes through the clearing.

"Who are you?" It is one of the centaurs who had spoken with Hagrid about Grawp, the one who had threatened Hagrid, Harry and Hermione all that day that seems so long ago now. Hermione glances to see that Umbridge trembling, her wand still raised. "I asked who you are, human."

"I am Delores Umbridge," she says in this terrified sounding voice that does not instill any confidence at all in Hermione. She reaches out and grabs Harry's hand, willing him to understand that if they have to run, they have to run together. "Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and Headmistress and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts!"

The centaurs don't seem at all impressed with the collection of titles. She's about to open her mouth to further goad Umbridge, eyes trained on the first centaur's scowl, when Hermione sees Umbridge fall right into the trap she'd hoped for.

"You are from the Ministry of Magic?" The centaur questions and Umbridge seems to tremble under the weight of his skepticism.

Umbridge nods and squares herself fully. "Careful, half-breed," she says, her voice growing stronger with every second. Hermione has half a mind to tackle her like a rugby player and take away her wand before she gets them all killed.

"Don't call them that!" Hermione says, fury creeping into her voice. She's heard Umbridge use the term for Hagrid, and she's implied it when speaking about Fleur. This is far, far worse. Centaurs are not half-bread humans, they are truly their own species, and anyone who had read any book ever knew that. It was first year subject material for Merlin's sake!

Umbridge doesn't appear to hear Hermione's objection and Harry's fingers tighten around her hand. They're going to die here, with Sirius still in need of rescuing. She swallows and wishes she could see Fleur one last time. "Law Fifteen "B" states clearly that "any attack by a magical creature who is deemed to have near-human intelligence, and therefore considered responsible for its actions —"

"Oh, she is bloody insane," Harry mutters and Hermione is inclined to agree.

The ensuing chaos ends with the centaurs chasing Umbridge off deeper into the forest. Two of the centaurs linger, and Hermione swallows, watching them nervously. Their wands are both still in Umbridge's office and there's absolutely no way that they can protect themselves other than running.

"We do not harm foals," one of the centaurs is saying.

The other seems to disagree and Hermione feels Harry's hand grip her own more tightly.

"But this one is veela touched," The first replies and Hermione tries to think if there were any instances of anything other than peaceful relations between the two races. She can't recall anything, but Harry's hand is cutting off the circulation to her own and she's shaking she's so scared. "And this one is nearing manhood."

"Please," Hermione says, struggling to keep her voice steady. "We meant no offense. We are unarmed, forced here by," and she shudders despite herself, "that horrible woman. We mean you no harm and do not wish to intrude on your territory."

Harry nods his agreement and holds up his hands, open and wandless. It is a gesture that they've both been taught, growing up in the muggle world. It means surrender. Hermione slowly does the same and hopes against hope that it translates as the same thing into wizarding customs.

The centaur regards Hermione with pale blue eyes that remind Hermione of Fleur's. He stares at her long and hard, before he lowers his crossbow. "Follow the steam to the edge of the forest, girl, do not linger."

They don't. Harry nods his thanks and Hermione forces herself to smile and they high-tail it out of the clearing and the forest proper as fast as they can possibly go.

Ron and the others are waiting with their wands on the edge of the forest with grim expressions on their faces. Snape didn't come back, he explains, and the Inquisitorial Squad is pants at dueling.

Her heart thudding in her chest, Hermione turns to Harry. He's got that determined look on his face that says quite clearly that he already knows what he wants to. She swallows and nods her agreement. They have to rescue Sirius if Snape didn't return. There's simply no other way around it.

x

"'ou are an imbicile," Fleur hisses angrily as she presses the tip of her wand to the cut on Hermione's neck that Bellatrix LeStrange's knife had left. Hermione hadn't even known how badly she was bleeding, but she can tell by the furious look in Fleur's eyes that the anger isn't entirely directed at her. The skin tickles as it knits back together.

Bill and Remus Lupin are seeing to Neville, Ginny and Luna. Ron's sitting off in a corner talking to his mother and Harry has gone off with Dumbledore. Hermione knows that this was a foolish venture.

And now Sirius Black is dead.

Hermione looks away, unable to face the rage that's just barely contained in Fleur's eyes. "I know," she whispers. "I'm sorry."

Fleur pulls her into a hug so tight that Hermione thinks her ribs might actually be broken from the fall she took trying to get away from the Death Eaters they encountered in the Department of Mysteries. Fleur is muttering in rapid-fire French and she smells of magic and ash.

She smells of a battlefield, Hermione realizes, and she thinks that she's going to be sick.

"Fleur," she whispers, holding on to Fleur as tightly as Fleur is holding her. She doesn't want to let go, she's still shaking and she can still feel Bellatrix's breath on her neck. "I - I couldn't let them go alone."

"'ou should not 'ave gone at all," Fleur replies and Hermione glances over to see Remus Lupin collapse into a chair, hands over his face. There are tears there and Hermione heart seizes when she realizes that he has lost his best friend three times over now. Sirius and Remus were always close, and Hermione's fingers grab handfuls of the back of Fleur's over robe and she's crying.

She sobs into Fleur's shoulder for what feels like hours, wondering why this had even happened. Voldemort had wanted a prophecy, a stupid prophecy that probably was only true because he chose to believe it. Sirius is dead. Dead like Cedric only with no body to prove it. He simply vanished into the great beyond.

Hermione's jaw hardens. She is going to do everything she possibly can think of make this stop. No one this young should have to experience loss like this.

Bill comes over and places a hand on Hermione's back. "Hermione," he says quietly, squatting down so that she can see his friendly, freckled face through the curtain of Fleur's white-blonde hair. "How did you get to London?"

"Thestrals..." Luna says, picking at the bandages that are wrapped around both of her forearms. She looks up at Fleur then and Hermione is struck by the similarities in their features. While Fleur is all gracefully sculpted lines, Luna appears freer in her appearance, her cheeks still clinging to the roundness of youth. "I suppose we'll all be able to see them now."

Bill runs a hand through his hair and nods, grim-faced. "I suppose so," he agrees. He pushes himself up to his feet. "I'd better owl around and make sure that they're collected and taken back to the school."

Fleur nods and they all look to Lupin. "Zey 'ave to go back to 'ogwarts, tonight," she says and Hermione realizes that that is the absolute last thing that she wants.

Mrs. Weasley bustles forward and pulls a jar of floo powder out of one of the kitchen cabinets. She sets it on the table and pulls Ron and Ginny close in the tightest hug she can possibly manage. Hermione tries not to think of how her own mother would react to such events – such stupid, foolish, woefully miss-informed events.

"Go to the hospital wing," Mrs. Weasley says quietly. "Madam Pomphrey will want to see all of you."
Ron and Ginny vanish into the fire, and Neville and Luna follow them. Hermione doesn't move, not wanting to leave Fleur's embrace. She can't stop shaking.

"'ermione," Fleur whispers, pressing her lips to Hermione's temple. "'ou 'ave to go back as well."

She can't find the words to say that she doesn't want to go back, that she doesn't feel right just leaving Lupin and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix to clean up the mess that they've so carelessly made. She swallows and gets to her feet.

Her shirt is stained with blood and she can see that it's all over Fleur as well. She swallows and steps towards the fireplace, eyes never leaving Fleur. "I-" she starts, fingers mixing in the floo powder. She doesn't want to say this in front of Mrs. Weasley, Bill or Remus. It doesn't seem the place.

"Chèrie, I know," Fleur says quietly. She crosses the kitchen and presses her lips to Hermione's temple. "It will be alright. It is not forever."

Term ends in four days' time. There will be plenty of time to explain what happened then.

Nodding, Hermione throws the floo powder into the fire and states clearly, "Hospital Wing, Hogwarts."

The last thing she sees is Fleur's face as she spins out of eyesight and into blackness.

x

They are not punished for their late-night flight from Hogwarts, Dumbledore seems to think that what happened to them all is punishment enough. Harry retreats into himself and Hermione wants to be there for him, but there really are no words to describe what he's lost. She tries to imagine what it would be like to lose her parents and she simply cannot. They're not close, they've never really been close, but she still doesn't know what she'd do without them.

She sits with him, though, and makes sure that he never has to be alone. He hasn't talked much to any of them. Luna's had the best luck of all of them, taking him out to feed the thestral heard with her during their long periods of free time as they wait for the rest of the school to sit their exams so that they can go home.

"Reckon he'll be okay?" Ron asks as she watches Harry make his way down to the forest's edge with Luna their final night at Hogwarts.

Hermione puts her hands in her pockets and bites her lip. It's been overcast and drizzly all day and the wind has a chill in it that doesn't quite seem natural for the month of June. It's a bad omen and Hermione doesn't even believe in such things. "I don't know," she says honestly.

Ron turns to stare at her. His face is drawn and worried looking. "Everything's going to change now, isn't it?"

Hermione looks down at her feet. "We're hardly innocent anymore, are we?"

His jaw clenches at that pronouncement and he looks away and out over the lake. "Are you coming home with me and Gin this summer?"

She closes her eyes and shrugs. It had completely slipped her mind that she was going to need a place to stay. She hopes that Mrs. Weasley won't feel too put out having to take her in. Hermione supposes that she pulls her own weight well and with Fred and George out of the house now, there will be a lot less for Mrs. Weasley to manage. "I'd imagine so. My parents are out of town until the third week in August."

"I jus' thought," He begins, and then rubs the back of his neck, cheeks coloring. "What with Fleur and all..."

Hermione's smile is tight-lipped. "I think she's mad at me right now." She's sure that Mrs. Weasley would never allow such a thing to happen. She recalls only too-well how everyone was so concerned over her last summer.

And Ron doesn't say anything because there is nothing to say after that. Everything is changing already. It's never going to be the same again.