A seagull flew over them, it screamed into the wind as it went seawards. Luna watched its flight, her loose blond hair whipping in her face. Hermione, on her turn, watched Luna. Something was not right, Luna was too withdrawn. They had been walking on this rocky beach for a while, mostly in silence.
Hermione had not yet dared to ask how Luna's trip to her mother's grave had been. If it had helped her and her father. She wanted to wait for a better moment.
Luna suddenly broke through her thoughts, "Sometimes I wonder how it is possible for a seagull's scream to carry so far. Even now, with the growing distance between us, we can hear its screams." Luna gazed still at the white bird which was gradually becoming a moving white fleck. "Is it the mythical sorrow they feel?"
"'Mythical sorrow'?" The Muggle-born repeated, puzzled by the term.
"There is a Greek myth which concerns a young woman, who, upon swimming after the ship of a man she longs for, gets turned into a seagull. The Greeks said that the screams of seagulls mirror her screams of unrequited love."
"Ah," Hermione said, at a loss for words. She stayed quiet for a few more seconds, then she asked, "do you want to make me aware of something?"
"I do," Luna said neutrally, she turned her gaze back to the rocks on the beach and started to walk once more.
Hermione followed by her side, she was trying for patience, but she felt her worry grow inside her, with sudden certainty she knew that somehow - somewhere along the line - she had let her friend down.
At last, she opened her mouth to speak, though all she said was, "Luna?" That one word sounded far too imploring to her ears.
The younger woman glanced sideways at Hermione, her eyes were kind still, not a trace of resentment could be found there. "Hermione," she said in response, as a simple jest.
A hesitant smile graced Hermione's features, then she sighed, resigning herself to wait for Luna to speak her mind once she was ready. She wondered if she should reach out and take Luna's hand in hers, to have a nonverbal connection. In the end, she did not do so, she was sure that Luna was not mad at her despite her hurt feelings.
The rest of their stroll was made in silence. A time during which she tried to not think about Viktor and Harry's wellbeing. A worry which - now that she was separated from them again - had been persistent.
She wondered if Harry was still at the Tonks's residence or if he had already joined the Weasleys at the Burrow. It had only been two days ago that she had argued in their kitchen. Memories of Fleur's dark blue eyes surfaced in her mind, how they had stared coldly at her, arrogance radiating off of her. French and heavily accented English which had filled the air, mingling with her own hesitant, though equally heated, French. Hermione shook her head, they had made up. All she could do now was to be patient and give their friendship time to heal. She remembered the smiles which Fleur and she had shared just before the disbanding of the party.
The Muggle-born sighed in the silence, she shook her hands to keep the blood circulation going and was reminded of her wand. Her own wand. Should she tell Luna about it now? Hermione mentally shook her head, she would wait for a better moment.
At some point, they returned to Luna's house, but the Ravenclaw spoke of things related to their upcoming - and last - year at Hogwarts and how classes would be now that they would share some of them. It felt like Luna wanted to fill the space between them with anything but what Hermione had tried to discuss.
When they entered the kitchen, Xenophillius was preparing dinner and called them to him. They helped him around, though Hermione quickly gave up on chopping the vegetables, for the two Lovegoods had their way of working around the kitchen.
Instead, Hermione set the table whilst she answered Xenophillius' questions regarding Nettleback Wickletuffs - about which she had heard of once, from the man himself - only for him to correct her assumptions. Though she had grown to respect Luna's creatures over the years, times like these were still difficult for her. Where Luna was more subdued about her beliefs, Xenophillius was rather insistent about it all.
She was relieved to go straight to Luna's room after dinner. Twilight had yet to fall, but they were already preparing Hermione's bed. They were quiet as they worked. Only when they were done did Hermione brave the subject again, "Luna, what is bothering you? What makes you hesitant to share it with me?"
She watched for a moment as the younger woman walked to her closet. Then Hermione reached for a chair and set it beside her bed, to use it as a makeshift bedside table. There was a rustle of clothing and Hermione kept her back towards her friend and changed into her pyjamas as well, throwing her clothes over the back of the chair. The silence to her question bothered her slightly, but she knew that Luna had heard her and would eventually reply.
The Muggle-born sat down on her bed and watched Luna trudge around her room, carrying some potted plants to a different windowsill, with her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. Luna readjusted the plants on their new places with care and once that was done, continued to brush her teeth as she walked to the bathroom. Hermione sighed as she realized she still had to brush her teeth as well. I will do it later, she thought and then started to wonder about what she had done to make Luna so hesitant to share it with her. Never before had Luna been like this with her, the Ravenclaw had always been blunt, in her eccentric ways.
While Luna was in the bathroom, Hermione picked up her shoulder bag from the floor and rummaged inside it for one of Poppy's Dreamless Sleep Draughts. Her fingertips brushed over a wooden, rectangle-shaped box. The one which held Bellatrix's wand.
What are you planning to do with Mrs Lestrange's wand? Ollivander's question echoed inside her once more.
She withdrew her fingers quickly as if electricity had shot through her at the contact. With a perplexed expression, she looked down at the bag in her lap, almost like she was accusing it of letting the accidental contact happen. Half a dozen seconds passed before she shook her head and summoned the potion - something I should have done in the first place, she told herself irritably. Her bag she laid once more on the ground close to her bed and the bottle she put on the chair. She would get a glass of water when she brushed her teeth.
All the while, the question stayed with her. She had yet to think of an answer. What were her options? What did she want to do? She did not even feel like thinking about it. But she could hardly keep Bellatrix's wand hidden inside her shoulder bag forever.
Another sigh escaped Hermione, a deep, miserable sigh. With a flick of her wrist, her wand came out of its holster and she held it in both her hands. She looked down, relief flooded her again as she felt how the wood brimmed with life and responded to her energy.
"You have a new wand, too," Luna smiled. She stood in the doorway, watching her with interest. "Since when?"
"This morning," Hermione smiled back, "Ollivander is a true master in the making of wands."
"You sound relieved."
"I am," nodded she, "for a few days I was convinced that Lestrange's wand had made me unfit to use any other kind of wand."
The younger woman nodded and walked towards her bed, magically closing the door behind her.
"What's going on with you?" Hermione asked again, though by now she did not expect a response. She caressed her wand and tried to focus on the sensation of the wood underneath her fingertips.
Then Luna finally decided to answer her, tearing through her thoughts. "I haven't been feeling so well lately," she answered as she sat down on her bed and laid down on her side. She watched Hermione as she continued, "But the reason why I have difficulty telling you is..." She fell silent, momentarily halting whilst she pulled her blanket over her body.
"Because I am the cause?" Hermione tried to help, looking over at her. A heavy feeling constricted her as she voiced the words. Though she could not think of anything she had done that could make Luna feel unwell, it was obvious that this something was related to her at the very least.
"No," Luna looked gloomily at her. "No, Hermione, it's not your fault. You have done nothing to hurt me intentionally. It's your absence, that makes me worry..."
Raised eyebrows conveyed Hermione's confusion, but she kept quiet.
"It's difficult to explain," Luna continued at seeing her companion's confusion, "You have changed, you are withdrawn. And yet you are there for the people that matter to you. It's like you care too much, yet I find it difficult to reach you. I have tried to connect and you are responsive, but it's like you haven't been able to see me. At least, not on your initiative. Like you are not whole enough to do so, even though you want to, so desperately."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione said feeling hurt and defensive, "I have reached out to you and we wrote letters to each other. And I try to help..."
Luna sighed and looked very sad, "That is... I know, Hermione, I... I did not mean it like that..."
"But then... I don't- I don't understand it," she disliked saying those words but she truly did not understand what Luna was talking about. War changed people and Hermione knew she had, but she got the impression Luna was not talking about that. Well, partially, but not completely.
The Ravenclaw sighed, her hands came from underneath the blanket. She sat up, gathered her hair and started to loosely braid it while her eyes stared into oblivion. Luna stayed quiet for a few moments as she mulled over her thoughts. When she spoke her voice was soft, "Sorry, I don't know how else to explain it to you."
They had both been quiet for a long while, when Hermione cleared her throat and said, "Earlier, on the beach, you were talking about 'mythical sorrow', was that all regarding me?"
Despite their serious moods, Luna chuckled, "Sorrow is an emotion, it cannot be bound to a single person. It's not bound to the seagulls either."
The Muggle-born frowned though her cheeks coloured in embarrassment, "I- I didn't mean it like that- like I am that important... I meant-"
A hand gently gripped her arm and halted the words on her lips, Luna had paused her braiding to reach for Hermione. Strands of hair escaped from the braid. The Muggle-born into Luna's earnest face, who said with emphasis, "Don't say that, you have to know that is not true. You are that important to some people."
Despite her inability to believe it, she felt the heat on her cheeks intensify. As she looked at her fidgeting fingers again, she asked, "But what did you mean by it?"
Luna withdrew her hand and began to braid once more, she sighed as she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again she said, "So many died. Their lives forfeited prematurely... It's almost unthinkable. It should be unthinkable…." She trailed off, shook her head and continued, "I am having dreams again, the same ones after my mom died. Flashbacks, but made worse due to the passing of time. Memories get unclear, but the feelings are there to manipulate. They become nightmares."
Hermione was quiet while she watched the Ravenclaw and waited for her to continue. Though she felt sympathy for Luna bloom, there was still the confusion and frustration she felt in regards to their current situation. It had been many years since she had felt this disconnected in their friendship.
A moment of silence was followed by a deep sigh before Luna almost whispered, "Visiting my mother's grave helped me and my father, she always has. But it's still hard. My father's anxiety hasn't lessened and our house is still not like home. Even though there are no creatures here to disturb my mind. I haven't been able to feel at home anywhere for a long while."
"And have you considered therapy?" Asked Hermione quietly.
This caused Luna to look at her, at that moment her eyes seemed to pierce right through her, "I have."
Instinctively, Hermione knew that she was busted, but, for a split second, she was not aware of what precisely. Then it hit her, Luna had known all along that she had not been making new appointments with her Mind Healer. She held her wand tighter but did not say or do anything.
"I have," repeated Luna, but she did not elaborate on it. Then she asked neutrally, "why haven't you been going?"
She cleared her throat, put her wand back into its holder and explained, "I am currently keeping a journal. Writing everything I do in it. Smith, my Mind Healer, hopes to see if there is anything noteworthy that could link to the curse on my arm. Something that could trigger the nightmare..."
"Do you think the curse needs any stimuli?"
"I- I don't know... But better safe than sorry."
"That rings with truth. Has the journal brought any clear answers?"
"Not... Not yet, there is something I noticed, however. But lately, it hasn't been reproduced..."
"I am glad," Luna smiled sincerely, "it is good to know that the clouds are moving, instead of spreading their fog. But why have you been scared to go?"
"I-" Hermione began but halted. It was useless to deny Luna's observations, she knew. The Muggle-born took a breath and started again, "I don't know."
Luna hummed but did not respond otherwise. She watched Hermione with kind eyes. Her hair was braided, she took an elastic band adorned with dancing miniature sunflowers and wound it around the end.
"I still have to brush my teeth," Hermione said after a while, she stood up from her bed and took her shoulder bag with her.
"Good night, Hermione," said Luna, "I think I will fall asleep soon. Or find a good book to help me along."
"Good night," said the Muggle-born and turned off the light as she walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.
As she brushed her teeth before the mirror in the bathroom her mind went over the conversation she had just had. It bothered her that Luna had been unable to clear her confusion, it felt like an unresolved discussion, where both parties had tried to reach out to one another but neither had been able to get a hold of the other. Hermione halted in her brushing and looked at herself, observing closely what she saw. She had dark circles underneath her eyes, she looked tired.
The fact that she had to make a new appointment with Abigail Smith was all the more pressing now. Why am I scared? I was so desperate for therapy during the hunt...
A frown came upon her features, with a huff she continued to brush her teeth. She promised herself that she would write a letter to Abigail the very next morning. Even going so far to say that it had to be written before she would allow herself to do anything else.
With that resolution made she started to wonder if she could sneak out of the house and practice outside with her wand. Despite her tired eyes, sleep was far from her mind. She felt far too awake to go back into Luna's room, even though she knew she should take her draught soon.
Hermione shook her head, she would not go outside, that would only make her vulnerable to possible enemies. As she spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth she decided that she would search for a room in her Animagus form. But first, she had to pee.
She ended up in Xenophillius's study, old issues of the Quibbler were all over the room. Many in piles atop each other, some stood between the books in the bookcases and a few had been torn up in pieces. There was a desk that stood close to the windows with an oddly angled chair behind it. Though from a look at the layer of dust, Hermione deduced that the man had not been here for months. She noted to herself that she would have to charm the dust back into place once she would leave the room.
The Muggle-born slowly transformed back into her human form so as to not make the floorboards creak underneath her increasing weight. She kept her vixen eyes, that way she would not need a light source in the darkening evening.
Once she sat comfortably crouched she put a silencing charm on the room. At this point she dared to stand and walk around, taking her wand from its holster.
As she held it again, she felt the surge of relief once more. She flicked her wand and the first nonverbal spell was cast. Happiness exploded inside her as she watched her magic unfold, it made her fingertips tingle. A smile lit up her face, along with the spell's colour.
Hunger gnawed at her, the discomfort was too prominent to go unnoticed, despite her drugged mind. Where?
Bellatrix opened her eyes slowly, blinked several times, but even with her eyes open she could not see anything, everything was dark. A restlessness settled inside her, she needed to move. The 'where' did not matter, she had to move.
But the fog was heavy, heavier than it had been, it pressed down on not only her mind but her whole body. She tried to stir, however, merely a tremble was evident in her limbs. Though, once it started, the tremble did not stop.
Hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor, she could vaguely discern the noise from her own escalated heart rate which drummed loudly in her ears. Panic. She could not deny the feeling which strangled her. Yet, not a sound left her mouth, she would not let herself sink to that level of disgrace.
It felt like she was slowly being dragged out of a deep, dark cavern. Against her will. She liked the cave, it was hers. She liked the darkness inside it and preferred its warmth. She started to struggle against the force that was dragging her.
From far away, something echoed, "-mione, wake up."
And further out of her cave she was dragged. Faster this time. She tried to get a hold of something, tried to wriggle back into the darkness. With her hands, she grasped for something to keep hold of. At once she held onto something.
"- in the garden," it echoed, unrelenting. Though it was weakening, for she had a good grip on that something and was pulling herself back into the darkness.
Garden? Right, obviously the garden, she thought as she pulled herself back into the depths of the cave, back into the familiar warmth. The darkness began to wrap itself around her again, she sighed, her breath left her slowly.
"It's Harry and Ron."
Instinct kicked in at hearing Harry's name. At once Hermione let go of what she had been holding on to and let herself be dragged out of her cavern.
The Muggle-born struggled to open her eyes, she moaned, it took all her effort to wake up. Her eyes cracked open, her sight was blurred for a moment. Though the light was harsh to her eyes, she was able to keep them open, but only as cracks. She cleared her throat before she asked in slurred words, "Harry? Harry is here?"
"Come, let's go down," Luna said and tugged gently at her pyjama's sleeve.
Slowly she struggled out of bed, murmuring nonsensical words as she followed Luna's trail, who waited for her patiently every few metres. Hermione walked sleepily after her friend down the stairs and into the kitchen, her eyes were puffy from a lack of sleep. Her mind was still sleep-fogged, she stood a bit aimlessly near the kitchen table while Luna went to open the door. As she did, the younger woman smiled at the people outside and walked into the garden, "Good morning. For a moment I thought it was a bird that had come to tick on my window."
"Well, we could always climb on your windowsill," joked Ron. Though Hermione did not see him she could hear his grin in his voice.
While Hermione listened to Luna and Ron greet each other, Harry walked into the kitchen, where she stood drowsily. Her mind was still half asleep from the Dreamless Sleep draught. He chuckled as he walked towards her and hugged her tight, softly he whispered in her ear, "Couldn't sleep, glad to see you are okay."
At hearing his voice and smelling his scent her brain started to wake up a bit faster, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him even tighter. "Good morning," her words were muffled because of his jacket.
"This cannot go on, Richard," Abigail said as she threw open the door into her friend's office. The tall man, who sat behind his desk, did not look up from the page he was reading. This did not dissuade the Mind Healer from walking inside, closing the door just a tad bit too hard and continuing to berate him, "You went too far already, her body is failing her. I can't have you kill her just because you want her to spell out to you what we already know she did."
"We don't know anything," Richard corrected her, sounding extremely annoyed. He turned the page from the journal he was reading, "we only suspect. With a 71% certainty."
"And I say that is enough," Abigail rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "what else is there that she could have done, why is it so hard to accept that she did something that was considered impossible."
"Abigail, don't bother," he spoke flatly, finally looking up at her.
"Problem is, I do bother," she retorted sharply, took a breath and continued, "You have to stop Macmillan. I know he thinks he is helping you with the absurd interrogations, but this is ridiculous. The night shift called me in at 4 am. I needed the assistance of two other Healers to get her statistics back under control. Lestrange may have phenomenal mental control, but her body is battered. You are not giving her body the time it needs to properly heal."
He started to drum his fingers on top of the open journal, "I will make sure we won't use any kind of potions for the time being. But we cannot stop the interrogations, we need answers. Who knows how many others Voldemort taught the trick to?!"
"As if Lestrange would ever give you the information!" The Healer had difficulty keeping her voice down, she was tired and angry. She succeeded nonetheless, "Lestrange survived years of imprisonment in that hellhole. Dementors swarming around her cell every second of the day and you think you will get her to talk by drowning her in Veratiserum?!"
"We have to try," he said, still annoyed, though something cracked in his mask, he was not a fan of the situation at all. "Gawain expects more than a 'we suspect' on the rapport. You know this, you know the goddamn-"
"Yes, I know the fucking drill," snapped Abigail, "but I also know that a person's life is on the line. And when I was still an Auror, no matter what the person had done, their lives were not something to be toyed with."
Achebe kept looking at her, his stern eyes softened a little, though his frown stayed. "You are aware that this is different," he put away the journal, "Right?"
"Obviously," she snorted, "but that does not give you leeway to go to these extremes."
He nodded, "I agree."
"I know you do, but you have to do more than that," she sighed, feeling her anger subside a little. "Stop Macmillan, or Gawain, or whoever keeps urging you to use that damned poison."
A slow smile graced his lips, warm and sincere, "Aye, captain." Then his expression became serious once more, "All I can give you is a few days, Gawain is breathing down our necks. He wants answers before Kingsley makes it public that she is still among the living."
"Give me five," Abigail nodded with conviction. "Her body will be far from truly healed, but good enough for interrogation."
"Too many, three will have to suffice."
"Five," she was resolute. "I can't rush her recovery."
He lifted one of his eyebrows, "Four, no more than that. If she is still weak by then, so be it."
Though Harry and Ron had come to get Luna and Hermione early in the morning, the group did not arrive at the edge of the wards until it was close to lunch, Hermione had written a letter to Abigail and had to make an extra stop at an owlery before they picked up Neville, Dean and Seamus.
The group walked into the direction of Shell Cottage, as they walked they filled the air with chatter. Once they were at the edge of the forest they could easily spot the house. Close to the cottage, a cloth had been spread over a patch of dune and a small group of people was busy with organizing the food and cutlery.
To her surprise, she saw that Andromeda and Teddy were present as well. Fleur was currently the one holding the blue-haired baby in her arms, while she spoke with Andromeda and George. Molly, Arthur, Ginny and William worked around them.
"Just in time for lunch," Arthur smiled kindly as he came to greet the seven of them, arms wide as though he wanted to hug them all but he merely patted some of them on the shoulder.
Lunch was enjoyed with chatter as everyone caught up with one another. After which several games were played, for once Quidditch was not among them. Something Hermione was grateful for. Between games, people rested, went for a swim or took a stroll. But there were always a few people who were playing around.
There were times that Hermione's gaze fell upon Fleur, though she dared not approach her. Even though they had shared smiles and a polite 'nice to see you's' at her arrival, starting a conversation was a bit too much of a hurdle for her.
Hermione walked close to the sea's waves, where the sand was sturdier and easier to walk on, whilst she made sure she did not step into the salty water. After a whole day of interacting with other people, she had taken a short break. To breathe and enjoy the merriment of the group from a distance, to feel a bit more like herself. Though, all the while, she was aware that she could not stay away for too long.
Dusk had fallen upon them and a large fire had been built in her absence. She could easily see the flames growing from her place. As she neared the group she could see that Seamus had taken responsibility for keeping the fire stoked. As she came closer to the campfire, she saw that a small group was already on their way home. She had been absent during their farewells.
In a flash, Hermione was brought back to the moment she had obliviated her parents. When she had not waited to see their blank stares settle on her nor to be confronted with the questions 'who she was' and 'what she was doing in their house'. There had been no farewells then either.
She shook her head, blinked a few times and focussed on the departing figures. Ignoring the feeling of loneliness which wanted to overwhelm her.
Andromeda walked with a sleeping Teddy in her arms. Molly, Arthur and George accompanied them. Hermione expected that the three Weasleys would escort her home and then go back to the Burrow, preparing the extra beds for Neville, Dean and Seamus. She had heard some snippets of conversation during dinner, of Molly insisting that they should stay for the night.
Hermione watched them with a twinge of worry as they walked to the Apparition point; George had sagged shoulders, exhaustion and sadness radiated from him. However, during the day there had been moments that he had smiled, a true smile, albeit still a broken one. For the first time, Hermione wondered if he would ever be able to re-open the joke shop.
The Muggle-born sighed and shook her head as she turned her back on the departing figures and continued on her way to the campfire. She would visit the Burrow soon, she had to. Guilt gnawed at her for being so absent, they had been there for her whenever she had needed their help. She could not repay their kindness with her absence.
She sat down in the circle of light from the fire, unable to find the energy to partake in one of the ongoing conversations, but aware that she could not distance herself even more after her lone stroll. The people around the fire were all in merry spirits, butterbeer and marshmallows were readily available to keep them fed and a radio was playing softly in the background. Hermione felt comfortable to watch them all in silence, she felt at ease and her mind was relatively calm, despite the flashback to her parents' Obliviation. The loneliness was still there too, but she tried to focus on what was happening around the fire instead of feeling sorry for herself.
It was not long till Harry sat down beside her, shifting a little to grab some hard stones from underneath him, "hi."
"Hey," she said, observing the party rather than looking at him.
Ginny was trying to juggle four marshmallows in the air and was succeeding, whilst being cheered on by a clapping Luna in a beat that was only known to her. Ron's growing grin was visible in the flames of the fires as he watched his sister's trick. Naturally, he had to break the spell, for he gave Ginny a little shove against her shoulder, successfully breaking her concentration. The marshmallows tumbled to the ground, of which one disappeared into the flames. The youngest Weasley glared at her brother, picked up the fallen marshmallows and threw them at him. Neville laughed at that and patted Ron on the shoulder.
Harry chuckled as they watched the scene unfold, Hermione smiled as well though it was soon gone. She looked away from the growing battle between siblings to examine the person beside her, "Earlier today you said you slept badly," she uttered quietly. "What troubled you?"
He shrugged and ran a hand through his messy hair, a slight frown darkened his expression, "The usual. People dying all over again. Watching as Sirius disappears behind the veil... Hearing your screams... And Dobby dying in my arms..."
Viktor's words echoed in her mind; she had to give Harry space, to let him figure things out whenever he was ready. She bit her lip to keep herself from asking when he planned on starting with therapy.
However, the rueful smile that appeared on his lips told her that Harry saw the question in her eyes, despite her efforts.
"I don't know, Hermione," he admitted. "I... I just don't feel inclined to share everything yet."
"But will you ever feel inclined," she pressed now that he had started on the subject. "Is there ever a moment anyone feels like they want to lay themselves bare to a stranger with a certificate in psychiatry?"
He laid a hand on her knee but said nothing as he averted his eyes in the direction of the sea, he was clear in his message though. Please, let this go.
Hermione sighed and let her gaze drop for a few seconds before she scooted closer to Harry, their sides touched ever so slightly. It was a silent comfort. Hermione followed his gaze then, watching the sea as it moved in the distance. Though it was becoming difficult to see with the darkening sky and the waxing moon partially hidden behind the moving clouds.
"You will come with me right?" Harry said suddenly, "To Snape's funeral."
"Of course," Hermione responded at once. "Does Ron know?"
"Yeah, he doesn't get it though, says that I am bonkers."
"He has a point," she muttered.
Harry looked with unbelieve at her, "How can you say that?"
"Don't look at me like I am crazy," she said softly, not wanting to draw attention to them. "Harry, Snape bullied students from every house but his own, you weren't his only target."
"He did it to cover himself, to stay undercover," said Harry slightly defensively.
"Was it?" Hermione looked Harry straight in his eyes, she was very serious in her doubts. Though the man had played an incredibly important role in the war, he had been a git and had used his power to mentally abuse. "Was it truly only to cover himself?"
Though he looked right back at her, Harry did not say anything. He did not know.
After a few moments like this, Hermione continued, "Forgiveness isn't something that comes easily to many people… After all, it's one of your defining qualities and what made you triumph over Voldemort."
"I suppose so," he mumbled, averted his gaze and threw a handful of sand in the direction of the campfire. The fire crackled and the radio was turned louder as Ginny said 'This is a good one'. Then Harry said, "I wonder how Hagrid is doing. If he is enjoying himself."
"Yeah," she nodded, "and when he will be back."
"We should check in on Grawp soon."
"Tomorrow?" She asked.
"After breakfast," he agreed.
Hermione nodded again, "You pick me up?"
He hummed in agreement, then in a softer voice he added, "Ron will want to come along."
"I know," she concurred just as softly and bumped their knees softly, "it's okay. When our last year at Hogwarts starts we will be the trio again anyway, so I better get used to it."
"True," Harry said as he made their knees bump a second time.
She started fidgeting with the rims of her sweater. It was one of Viktor's Quidditch sweaters, far too big for her, but therefore all the more comfortable. She wondered how she, Harry and Ron would function as the trio again. Her patience was running thin regarding Ron's behaviour at times. Would she get away with ignoring him or would that trigger one of his temper tantrums?
The fire drew her eyes away from the people around them, while her thoughts travelled to her lover. She wondered how Viktor was doing, she missed him. It had been a luxury, having him around so much. She hoped his mother had not insisted on cutting off his hair.
A laugh made her look away from the flames as they licked at the air, Luna was laughing at a joke William had made, Dean grinned too. Hermione smiled at seeing the merriment, it had been a long time since Luna had looked so carefree.
"Care if I join you?" Fleur's voice broke Hermione from her thoughts.
"Of course," Harry said lightly, patting the sand beside him. "We were just brooding, which can always be done another time."
Hermione smiled her hello as she met Fleur's eyes before the quarter Veela sat down beside Harry.
"Oh no, do continue. I am just 'ere to roast some marshmallows," the older woman said as she waved her hand and silently summoned one of the branches and an opened bag of the marshmallows. Hermione watched Fleur skewer one on the sharpened end of the branch and hold it close to the fire.
Following Fleur's example, Harry summoned a branch as well, spiking two marshmallows on it before holding it out. Then he said, "So how is your family? How is it now that you can see them again?"
Fleur turned her face to them and beamed the smile of a person whose burden had been taken away after months of insistent worrying. It was a beautiful sight. "Eet's fantastic. And they are all well. Though my father did suffer from a wound, causing some problems for 'is 'ealth. But 'e 'as been recovering, with the extra 'elp of a Potion Master -"
The Muggle-born listened to their conversation contentedly, she was grateful for the easy banter between her two companions. She felt like any wrong word, no matter how innocent, could destroy the peace between her and Fleur. Harry's presence was a perfect way to keep a conversation going without her needing to speak at all.
As Hermione listened, she watched the warmth and colours of the flames dance over their faces. Harry's wild dark hair framed his face, made him look like he had just jumped off a broom. Whilst Fleur's hair, glowing slightly rose in the fire's light, was still in the bun at the nape of her neck, though it had become messy after a whole day on the beach. All the while, Harry asked after Fleur's family members.
"I am happy for you," he said earnestly, after hearing that Fleur's grandmother was doing relatively well, considering her age. "Do you plan on going back anytime soon?"
"Thank you, 'Arry. And, oui," Fleur nodded, holding back her branch to inspect her marshmallow. It was clearly not yet ready for she held it close to the flames again. "Gabrielle's birthday ees coming up. William and I will be there to celebrate eet with my family."
Hermione braved her first enquiry, "How old will she be?"
"17, she ees finally getting out of that teenager phase. Merde, she could be such a little ass," Fleur chuckled as she said this and brought the marshmallow to her mouth and blew away the heat.
Hermione bit her lip and stared into the fire, a few weeks ago she would have joked that Gabrielle had a good role model, but now she simply said, "Glad that she is growing out of it." It felt weird to say this since she was not that much older, but she figured she had to say something.
Fleur simply hummed and took a bite of her marshmallow. Though as she chewed she looked over at Hermione, her eyes did not convey any emotion. All the while, the fire was mirrored in them, red reflections danced over blue irises.
Harry took his marshmallows away from the fire and offered them to Hermione. Who smiled and took the branch from him. After she had blown some air to let it cool down, she carefully took a bite from the upper marshmallow, she closed her eyes as she bit through the roasted outer layer and into the gooey inside. Her lips were already sticky from the single bite. It had been years since she had last eaten one. She relished the taste.
"So, Fleur, are you going back to your old job?" Harry asked.
"Non," she shook her head, "Gringotts 'as no need for a part-timer right now, I am going to see eef the Ministry could use my 'elp."
"Is it hard to find a job?" He asked while he gazed longingly at the last marshmallow on the branch in Hermione's hands as she bit into the remainders of her own. While she chewed she handed him back the branch.
"I 'onestly don't know, William still 'as 'is work, so there ees no immediate need for me to work," then she sighed, "though I suppose I need to start looking as soon as we return from France."
"Well, if we hear anything about a job opportunity whilst you are gone, we will send you a letter," Harry promised before he bit into his marshmallow.
"A firecall would be quicker," noted Hermione, at which Harry rolled his eyes. Then she glanced at Fleur and asked, "What kind of position are you looking for?"
The quarter Veela tucked a stray hair behind her ear and answered, "There ees not a certain field of work I want to specify een, the most important thing ees that I want to be active, I do not feel much for a desk job."
"What about becoming an Auror then?" Said Harry eagerly after he had swallowed his bite. "They always need new recruits. You would rise in ranks in no time!"
Fleur made a non-committal sound, "Eet's certainly an option. Though I first want to see what else there ees."
Harry hummed, "Fair enough, though there are a lot of different divisions in the Auror department."
"Stop it," Hermione said and playfully shoved his shoulder, "you aren't even an Auror yourself and you are already advocating for them."
He laughed, "So what!? It's important work."
She rolled her eyes at his answer, "So are other jobs within the Ministry, you dolt."
Fleur looked at him with a smile, "I shall keep eet een mind, 'Arry."
By the time they returned on Hogwarts' grounds after their visit to Grawp, rain plummeted down upon them. The trio ran the rest of the way to the castle but they were still drenched when they came to a halt in the entrance hall of the castle. They heaved breaths after their sprint through the soggy grass.
"How is the castle?" Asked Ron as he took off his coat and began to squeeze water from it. "Are the repairs still going on?"
While Harry took off his robe he said, "No, not anymore, but there are still moments when Hogwarts' walls suddenly start grinding or shuddering."
"That is because Minerva and other people have been changing Hogwarts' inner structures of wards and enchantments," added Hermione. "We once saw Flitwick's charm work settling into some of the outer corridors."
"Though it is nice that our hard work gets noticed, I do have to ask you to keep it to yourselves, please," came a voice from the direction of the Great Hall. Filius walked towards them and while he neared them he added with a smile, "It's no secret that we are bettering our defences, for as far that is possible, but the fewer people who know, the better."
"Of course, Professor," the trio said in unison.
He nodded in satisfaction, took his wand and twirled it once. It charmed their clothes a little dryer, though some dampness stayed in places. "How are your parents, Mr Weasley? Is Molly alright?"
"Yes, sir," Ron nodded and hung his cloak over one arm, "my mom is doing okay... a little better, I suppose."
"I said it before, Mr Weasley," Filius said, his eyes had a sadness to them, "but I will say it again. I am deeply sorry for your loss."
Ron's expression saddened too, something which happened often, "Thanks, Professor."
Filius nodded to himself, cleared his throat and said, "Well then, I wish you three a good day." The small man turned around and waved over his shoulder.
Hermione said quickly to Harry and Ron that she would meet with them later before she went after Flitwick. "Professor, wait," she said and took a few hasty steps to catch up to him.
"I am on my way to McGonagall, I take it you want to join me?" He asked her expectantly.
"Yes, please," she said at once, "I have been meaning to talk to her."
He glanced at her, "I hope nothing is amiss?"
"Nothing is wrong," she said, "just a few questions I have been meaning to ask."
On their way, they spoke of mundane things such as the weather, how the preparations for the new school year were coming along and how the visit to Grawp had been.
When they arrived in McGonagall's office the woman was sitting behind her desk, writing a letter. "Good morning, Filius," she muttered as she continued to write. Her desk, though clean, was filled with folders and paper. More so than usual.
Hermione was surprised to see that Minerva was not dressed in her usual kind of cloak of strong wool or cotton dyed in a dark colour, instead, she wore an old fashioned, white blouse, with her greying hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. She watched her professor seal the letter with wax and the emblem of Hogwarts.
When Minerva looked up and saw Hermione she was visibly surprised, "I did not know you were staying at the castle once more, Miss Granger." Calmly - though with swift movements - she began to bundle her hair up in her signature knot, hairpins came flying to her aid from an adjoined room, of which the door closed soundly.
The younger woman shook her head, "No, Professor, not yet. We visited Grawp and there were still some things I wanted to ask you."
With her hair taken care of Minerva looked sterner, "Of course, sit down. However, I have a meeting scheduled with my deputy, I hope you won't mind Flitwick's presence?"
"No, that's fine. I can also come back-"
Minerva waved the possibility away, "That won't be necessary. I have been informed by the office's gargoyle that you have tried visiting before, but I was not there to receive you. And it is about time we have a conversation. Sit down, Miss Granger, please."
As she took a seat Hermione began with her first question, "After we went to my home, we returned to Hogwarts, but soon thereafter you went on your way to the Ministry. You told me you would relay the information I had given you, so that-"
"So that the Aurors would not bother you unnecessarily," Minerva finished for her and stood up from her chair to walk to one of the windows. As she opened it, she said, "Rest assured that the trip was not in vain. I spoke to Gawain and Kingsley, both are the only people in the Ministry who know in detail of your predicaments."
Hermione nodded, though her gaze travelled to Flitwick, he met her gaze and smiled kindly at her. She smiled back feeling some of the tension in her shoulders subside, though in her mind she wondered if he knew at all what this was about.
"Filius knows the red lines," Minerva said as she turned to face them again. "As my Deputy, he has to know about what is going on to at least some degree, in case he needs to take over."
Hermione nodded once, "He, I mean you-" she looked back at Professor Flitwick with an apologetic smile, "- you may know the details, too. That would make it easier."
He nodded in response and reached out to touch her arm. His hand was warm and gentle, "Only if you wish to, you can always come by my office at a later time."
Minerva watched the exchange with some relief, this was good progress. Her student was willing to talk about it to some people.
At the window the noisy flapping of wings announced the arrival of three pigeons, McGonagall turned her attention to them at once. A moment later a falcon flew inside as well and landed with far more grace on the edge of the windowsill.
From thin air, Minerva produced three small, round capsules and summoned the sealed letter from her desk. The latter was easily given to the falcon, who, without a second of hesitation, flew up, grasped the letter in its claws and went outside in one swift motion. His flight took him eastwards.
The carrier pigeons were a bit more difficult to work with, but with a few short commands, the birds stayed in their places. After which the capsules were strapped to their claws easily enough. She praised them quietly before she gave a flick of her fingers and watched them fly away in differing directions.
While the Headmistress was busy, Hermione told Filius everything, from the decision to obliviate her parents to the fact that Death Eaters were after them and had blown up her home and neighbourhood whilst doing so. She was able to keep her emotions at bay, telling people about her predicament was still a hard thing to do, but she knew it was for the best. She could not do this - keeping her parents safe - alone.
When she was at the end of her tale, Minerva sat back down opposite of her and Hermione turned to look at her expectantly. She did not bother to voice her question aloud, for she knew it was written all over her face.
McGonagall nodded ever so slightly and started retelling her visit to the Ministry. She leaned with her elbows on her desk as she spoke, "There is not that much to tell, really. I went to see Kingsley, I knew I could find him in his office, where he was waiting for me. We spoke about your predicament and speculated once more about the destruction. Mostly we spoke of possible places to search for the Death Eaters and what could be their reasons for these actions."
"Well, they want to blackmail me, don't they? They want to get their hands on my parents so that they can use me as blackmail in turn. All in order to get to Harry," Hermione said almost monotonously. She could not allow this knowledge to get to her, this was, after all, exactly why she had chosen to obliviate her parents and change their life's dreams to living a different life in Australia. In a perverse way, she was happy that her sacrifice had not been in vain. Which she would never say aloud, for it was a part of herself she deeply despised.
"Yes, that is likely the case," her Professor agreed. "However, it's best to keep an open mind, see if there is anything else they could achieve with this. We also looked once more over all the information from the forensics. Which was when Gawain came in to report on something. When he heard the information you had given me, he wished to take part in our discussion. There were some heads on the team who needed to be given some information as well. All in all, know that the information was not given to those who did not need to know. There is a team on it and they have direct contact with Ministries of other countries."
Though the threat was still there, Hermione felt ever so slightly reassured that there was truly a team dedicated to protecting her parents. "Have they located my parents yet?"
Minerva shook her head, "Last I heard there was no headway made. You should get in contact with Gawain about this. He did tell me he needed to ask you a few questions."
Hermione wondered if among those questions there was also one regarding the wand she had been holding in the photo Skeeter had made of her, "Do they need a statement from me? Or will they want to do a whole interrogation?"
"They will want to ask a couple of questions, yes, but I doubt Gawain wants to ask them in an official setting."
"Can I go to them myself or do I need to wait?"
"If you do, make sure to go on a Monday morning to his department, ask the assistant at the reception for a personal appointment. They will likely state that is impossible, but just keep pressing the matter. This matter is not something to write about in letters, as you no doubt understand."
"Alright, I will make a visit soon." the Muggle-born nodded as she made the mental note. There was a moment of silence, during which Hermione steeled herself to bring up a secret she had kept for years. Both Filius and Minerva waited patiently. She was about to open her mouth when a soft plop sounded in the room.
The gentle tip-tap of naked feet on the floor announced the appearance of a house-Elf. He was dressed in a tidy shirt and sturdy trousers. When he got into view and stood beside Minerva he bowed deeply for the people in the room and asked with a lilting voice, "Madam, does you wants breakfast nows? And teas for the guests?"
"Tea will be fine, with some biscuits, please. And thank you, Timothy, for your concern," Minerva looked at him with a warm smile.
Timothy stiffened for a moment, smiled slightly in return before he bowed again and even more deeply than before, "Of course, Madam." With another plop, he was gone.
Hermione gazed with a deep frown at the place where the Elf had disappeared, the fact that nothing had changed for them yet, despite their heroic presence during Hogwarts' Battle, stung her. Though she had an inkling of how busy Minerva was, knew that she could not fight every battle and that she obviously did her best to make the lives of Elves as best as they could be here in Hogwarts, Hermione still felt a little let down.
She took a deep breath, controlled her feelings and waited a moment since Minerva and Filius were conversing about Timothy who was apparently a new addition to the household of the castle and still unused to this kind of communication.
Then the Muggle-born spoke up, "I still plan to go to the Wizengamot on behalf of the house-Elves. I want their constitutional rights to be revised and their work conditions to be overhauled."
Minerva's hummed and said with pride, "I expect nothing less from you."
"There have been other attempts to better their work and life conditions, right?" Hermione asked.
"As far as I can recall there was once before a call for change, but it was denied by the Wizengamot. It was many decades ago, things were different." Said Flitwick in his teacher's voice, "Though the call for change was not as progressive as yours, people thought differently about it. And enough people still think that way, unfortunately."
"You mean the case of Mr Baker?" Asked Minerva and without waiting for an answer she added, "That was in the newspapers. You can find those in the library."
Flitwick crossed his arms as he looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling, "Yes, in the year 1949, just after the New Year ball at the Ministry. If you want more on the lawsuit you can probably find some files in the public archive of the Ministry as well."
Hermione felt grateful for the information and summoned a piece of parchment and an 'inks-itself-quill' from her bag to quickly scribble the instructions down. During which, a tray with tea and biscuits appeared on the desk. Flitwick busied himself by pouring them each a cup.
When she was done she looked up and put quill and parchment to the side, in case she would need it again. "There is something I have been meaning to tell you. It's about Rita Skeeter."
Both Professors looked surprised at hearing the journalist's name. Minerva narrowed her eyes and said, "Please continue."
Hermione tried to keep from fidgeting, but it did not work. "I think she has found a way to infiltrate the ministry in the current chaos, and I am quite certain it's due to her Animagus form. She becomes a beetle."
Filius and Minerva were quiet for several dreadful seconds as they stared at her.
"What makes you share this with us?" Filius asked with a frown was on his face. "Since when do you know this?"
"Since the end of my Fourth year," Hermione confessed, "I realised how she knew the things she couldn't have known when I spotted the insect in the Hospital wing. I caught her and blackmailed her to stop writing about Harry."
They were quiet again, though not for long.
"The sudden lack of coverage on Harry did strike me as odd," Minerva mused softly as she seemed to recall newspapers before her mind's eyes. Then she focussed her eyes on Hermione again, "Why did you decide to blackmail her instead of coming to Dumbledore or one of the Professors? What made you handle the situation the way you did?"
The Muggle-born cleared her throat, she suddenly felt quite young and foolish, "At the time I thought this was best to deal with her on my own. You know, to have a trick up our sleeves. And with the Ministry so… inordinate at the time… I just... Skeeter would have ended up in Azkaban. I despise her kind of journalism, but no one deserves to be put in Azkaban. I would have felt horrible under the guilt if I had been the reason that she had ended up there."
"Despite knowing that unregistered Animagi are illegal?" McGonagall asked neutrally after she had taken a sip of her tea.
"Yes," Hermione looked away for a moment. She had a sinking feeling she had greatly disappointed her Professor. Despite this, she dared to say, "I don't regret it, my decision. I meant it. No one should be locked away in Azkaban. And we did need her help at some point, she wrote the article in the Quibbler."
"I am not questioning you about Azkaban, Miss Granger. Rather the choice not to share this sooner with Dumbledore or me."
Yes, she had definitely disappointed her Professor. Hermione felt the first tendrils of fear settle in her system, of the same kind her Boggart evoked in her. However, she had not failed Hogwarts' exams this time, she had failed her favourite Professor. That was worse. But surely McGonagall understood her reasoning, why Hermione had chosen to keep this fact a secret for so long?
"Why bring this up now?" Filius asked in a reserved tone, to change the direction of the conversation.
Hermione took a breath and told them about the encounter with Rita, how the journalist had wanted to talk about the wand she had pointed at her. All the while Skeeter had taunted how she had heard something in the Ministry and wanted to know about the identity of the original wandowner.
Filius said, sounding kinder this time, "You did what you thought was best, Miss Granger. However, this has to be put right. The Improper Use of Magic Office, the Administrative Registration Department and the Investigation Department all need to be informed of this news."
"But isn't it likely that Skeeter already has taken the needed action to cover her trail?"
"Even so," said Filius, "this has to be looked into. It's never a good thing when an Animagus form stays unregistered."
"I shall bring it up with Gawain," Hermione said resolutely. "when I visit him on Monday morning. That leaves me with time to have a clear statement ready."
The Headmistress nodded and said, "I will make a firecal to Kingsley this evening. Could you write to the departments, Filius?"
"Of course," he said and wrote something on a piece of parchment.
"Thank you," Minerva said. At that moment a hoot came from outside the windows. The Headmistress looked to see Gràinne staring at her. As she magically opened the window with a wave of her hand, she turned her attention back to Hermione and asked, "Was that all, Miss Granger?"
The barn owl hopped inside, hooting indignantly at Minerva, who ignored her completely as she kept her focus on her student.
Hermione really wanted to bring up Bellatrix's means of escape, to share her theory and hear if she was correct or not. Minerva, and possibly Filius, knew what had truly happened during the moment Molly had tried to kill the Death Eater. Instead, she shook her head and thanked them for their time. Minerva and Filius had other important matters to discuss and the owl clearly had a message too.
Both Professors wished her a good day as she walked out of the room. When she arrived at the bottom of the stairs and the gargoyle closed the entrance behind her, she realized that she had not even touched her tea.
The Muggle-born looked around the empty corridor, some people in the paintings waved at her. A forced smile was her reply. Without meaning to, she mindlessly wandered to the courtyard with the conversation on replay in her thoughts. She looked at the plants, for a moment she wondered if she could sit down between them. Then she reminded herself that Harry and Ron were here somewhere, she had to go and look where they waited for her. While she searched for them, she mentally distanced herself from the echoing memories of the conversation. She had no desire to share this while Ron was around.
Hermione found the boys in the Great Hall. They sat opposite each other, at the head of one of the four tables close to the big doors. With a chessboard between them.
When she joined the two she told them in a stage whisper, "You guys won't believe what I just saw."
"A tap-dancing werewolf?" Harry asked nonchalantly as he moved his queen.
"Check," Ron said as he moved his rook in response, then he looked at Hermione and said with a smile, "I bet it has something to do with books."
"Not this time, no," Hermione said. She planted her hands on the table and said slowly, emphasizing every word, "I just saw Minerva with her hair loose."
"You did not," Ron said in fake shock, though his growing grin broke the act.
Harry laughed out loud at their antics, "You are such a fangirl, Hermione."
Ron laughed too, though he defended her, "Everybody should, McGonagall is a legend."
"Oh please," she said and rolled her eyes at Harry as a smile grew on her lips, "you are just jealous."
"I am back," Hermione yelled while she shut the door behind her.
"You got a letter," came Luna's voice from the living room. Hermione entered the room and saw that her friend was busy with decorating the house. New creations adorned the walls and windows, the one Luna was currently tying up to the stair railing looked a lot like a dreamcatcher, but instead of beads and feathers, bones and dried herbs were tied in the threads.
"That looks interesting," Hermione said, wondering what it was for. Though the sight of the unopened envelope kept her from asking it. The handwriting on it showed her it was from Viktor. With a relieved smile she sat down to read the letter. Though, as she sat down, she startled in her seat and had to clench her jaws to stifle a gasp of surprise. A stab of pain had gone through her forearm as it had bumped lightly into the table. The wound on her arm was becoming sensitive again. Poppy's salve was starting to wear off.
With a deep breath, she focussed her attention back to the letter, while she made sure the scars on her arm did not come into contact with any kind of surface. She opened it, read its context and smiled again, Viktor would be returning to England in a few days.
Late next morning Hermione and Luna were on their way to the Burrow, each carried a bag with some tasty dishes since they planned to stay for dinner. The younger woman hummed a melody that Hermione had not heard before. Despite this, Hermione was distracted. The curse on her arm was playing up again. She had gotten so used to the numbness Poppy's creme provided that the prickling pain was a sensation she had difficulty ignoring.
She tried to focus on the sound of Luna's song, to see how summer began to truly settle over England. In the last few weeks the fresh, light green had made way for the darker shades. It felt good to walk in the shadows of the leaves, through which the wind rustled. Then the curse on her forearm throbbed and it broke the beautiful spell of nature.
When they arrived at the edge of the garden Molly came over and hugged each of them before she led them into the kitchen to store the food.
"Hey you two," said Ginny with a smile as she popped her head inside the room through the open doorway, "care to help us with de-gnoming the garden?"
"Of course," Luna said, smiling at her friend, "they are resilient little creatures, aren't they? They remind me of humans."
"Hah," Ginny laughed in surprise at the comparison, "I can't say you are wrong."
It was among the last things Hermione wanted to do, but she followed the others nonetheless. De-gnoming reminded her of the jokes Fred and George had always made with the creatures during the summers she had been here. Though she knew everyone was confronted with the same memories, there was a heaviness in the air even Luna seemed to be affected by.
In this manner they spend their first hours at the Burrow, picking up gnomes, careful not to get bitten and throwing them as far away as possible. During their work they unconsciously made small groups, Harry was with Luna, Ron with George and Hermione with Ginny.
She and Ginny strayed a bit out of the garden, to pick up the gnomes that were not thrown far enough away and tried to sneak back into their old nests.
"Sooo, how have you been?" Ginny asked after a while of throwing gnomes into the air.
The Muggle-born glanced at her before she shrugged and continued with her task, "I am fine. Why do you ask?"
Ginny arched a brow, "Just being friendly, is all."
"Oh, well… Sorry," Hermione said, making an effort to sound friendlier, to be less suspicious, "I am okay. Just glad to be with friends again. And not having to worry too much about being ambushed. How have you been?"
"Still looking over your shoulder, right? We all do..." A rueful smile was on her face, but it faded quickly. Ginny shrugged as a shadow came over her features, "It's difficult, it's depressing."
Hermione knew instantly that Ginny was talking about her deceased brother. She straightened and walked closer to her, laying her hand on Ginny's shoulder in a comforting gesture. Though no words passed her lips, she had no idea what she should say.
"I miss my brothers," Ginny said quietly, "Fred took something of George with him and I don't know if he will-" She stopped there, she took a deep breath and looked out over the landscape. "But," she began, "it has also brought us closer as a family. George is still not really functioning, but he is making an effort. And my dad is looking for a therapist for George, but also for us as a family."
"I think I know someone who can help you," Hermione said softly. Mentally she went through her memories, in her search of a good Mind Healer in all those files she had gone through to find her own. She knew had seen some with qualifications for grief counselling. Hermione could not remember their names, but she still had the files somewhere in her bag, she could look it up. "I can write some names down for you if you like?"
"How do you know this?" Ginny asked in surprise.
The Muggle-born plucked at the seams of Viktor's sweater and looked away for a few seconds. "Do you remember that break-in in St. Mungos a few weeks ago?"
Ginny barked a short laugh, "That was you?! Of course, that explains the impenetrable invisibility, you used Harry's cloak."
Hermione could not help a small smile, "Yell it louder will you, I don't think they can hear you at the Ministry."
"Right," Ginny said and grinned sheepishly, "So why break-in, anyway? You could have filed a request or, you know, ask my dad or Percy." She put her hands on her hips and looked expectantly at Hermione.
"Well- you know... eh-" Hermione began hesitantly, "Your family is grieving… Asking any of you… I just didn't want to bother you with it."
"If Harry would have told me you had willingly broken laws, I wouldn't have believed him," Ginny shook her head, "Wish I had been there to see it. Harry was with you wasn't he?"
"Yes," Hermione nodded. "But don't tell Ron, okay?"
"No, of course not, we don't want another argument, do we?" Ginny sighed looking dramatically up at the sky. Then she looked back at Hermione and promised, "He will get over you, I will make sure he does."
"That would be very welcome," she smiled ruefully.
Ginny bumped their shoulders together, "Come on, let's throw these last few buggers far away and go back inside."
Hermione nodded, though her line of sight travelled over to the other groups. Ron and George were working furthest away. She watched as Harry and Luna were talking, both with a gnome in their hands. Harry had been tense since the moment Hermione had seen him and she began to suspect something was off. "Ginny, did you have a row with Harry?"
"No, why?"
Hermione turned to look at her companion again, "No?"
"Honest," Ginny said and made a cross over her heart. "Why do you ask?"
She frowned and looked back at Harry and Luna, "He just seems so tense."
"Tense?" Ginny leaned forward to look as well then shook her head, "Nah. You are imagining things, Hermione."
The Muggle-born shrugged and turned her attention back to the thing at hand. To throw away the last remaining gnomes. Meanwhile, Ginny wondered aloud if Harry would teach Dumbledore's Army again if they had another hopeless DADA teacher for their last year at Hogwarts and how they could organize it.
However, Hermione did not really listen. In her mind, she wondered if Harry was so tense due to the funeral they would attend in a few hours. As she reached out for another gnome, she was swift enough to grab him with his body and limbs trapped in her grip and threw the little creature as far as she could. Though there was a flare of pain in her left forearm. It had been bothering her all the more during the de-gnoming of the garden. Hermione knew she would have to refresh her bandages before she and Harry would leave for the ceremony.
I made Gabrielle older than she is in the books because it will serve my needs better. She was still present at Hogwarts, is still as close with Fleur, and she was still used as bait during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.
Reviews are treasured.