A/N: I'm just gonna leave this hear like I haven't been MIA for five months.
It wasn't as easy the second time around.
Of all the hardships that's to come and horrors they're about to go through, she can't help but feel a little silly for feeling this way about pretending to be her again. It was poetic, she thought, that the first hurdle in this fight is for Hermione to face her personal demon. Literally. By wearing her face. And staring at it in the mirror.
A face she hadn't seen in person in almost a year, but a face that haunts her dreams constantly.
The first time, she didn't stop to think, to ponder, to reflect. She was barely healed physically and ready to face the next battle. She had just wanted it over with. She didn't stop to wonder about the pale skin with dark mark on its arm or the wild hair that was a dark reflection of her own at times. She especially didn't think too hard about how it felt to hold that wand and the dark ichor seeping from it.
The worst part was that Bellatrix was beautiful.
It was tragic, in Hermione's mind, that such beauty is buried under years of insanity. That those high cheekbones were sharp rather than sophisticated. That those striking eyes held such hatred. That the curve of her lips spewed such foil nothings. Her athletic figure was fashioned by duels to the death.
It's what's on the inside that counts, and inside she was dark.
Hermione gave a little laugh at the thought and watched the mirror in horror as Bellatrix's features copied the movement.
Distantly she heard cackles mixing with her own laugh.
She shook her head. There are more important things to get through. Portraying Bellatrix once more is hardly a sacrifice considering what is yet to come.
Sacrifice. Harry's sacrifice.
She shut her eyes and tried to breathe. One thing at a time.
She had missed Harry and Ron more than she thought she did. Arriving at Shell Cottage after a week of living in muggle hotels around Britain and camping in forests with the twins was like coming home after a vacation.
But coming home to find that someone had rearranged all the furniture.
They had stared at each other at first. Three feet of space between them, Hermione and the twins on one side, Harry and Ron on the other. The salty breeze helped her breathe easier, but the sand beneath her trainers kept shifting.
She looked them both up and down and felt a wave of sadness rush over her that was so heavy she felt tears prick her eyes and reached out to grasp Fred's forearm. She ignored Ron's sharp look at the action and cataloged the differences between these two boys and the ones she left behind.
Her Ron was overwrought with grief and PTSD. He walked like a titan carrying dark skies on his shoulders. She remembered their attempt at a relationship and how off it was. She remembers helping him though attacks and nightmares. She remembers snogging because they didn't want to cry anymore. She knew they fell out of touch once she took his place in the aurors. And his slight resentment and self-hatred for it.
But now, this Ron doesn't know all that they went through. He doesn't know the suffocating weight of grief or the taste of firewhiskey and tears at 2:30 in the morning. He doesn't know how helpless you can feel when your lungs won't cooperate and the world is closing in on you. He doesn't know that he won't be able to follow Harry into the aurors. And he doesn't know that it'll be good for him in the long run.
And Harry. Oh, Harry.
He doesn't know, yet, that his mentor raised him knowing he'll have to walk into the forest, meet the man who took everything from him, and die to save everyone. Or that he'll end up going to every funeral after the battle. That a man will come up to him one day and ask him if he would pose for a sculpture that will go in Godric's Hollow next to his parents. He doesn't know that he and Hermione had gone on a mission together chasing a death eater and spent the night in the tent again dancing to a muggle radio station like they had all those months ago. That he and Ginny were on a break and he looked at Hermione with the softest look before leaning down and kissing her. That they both burst out laughing and couldn't stop because "it was like kissing my sister" and "you won't tell Ginny, right?" He doesn't remember that they were both broken but he was piecing himself back together.
What a difference a year could make.
She feels like a stranger. And she knows they're thinking the same thing.
They're looking at her outfit that they've never seen before. Muscles hiding underneath that were there when a month ago she'd been malnourished. A tougher stance that spoke volumes, but haunted look in her eyes that was louder.
She expected Ron to ask, but Harry spoke quicker.
"What was the spell Ron tried to cast on the train when we first met?"
"Sunshine, daisies, butter, mellow." Her voice cracked and grin crept up the left side of her face. "Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
The twins burst out laughing because of "the good ol' days" and "I can't believe you fell for that, baby brother." But Hermione took two steps and she was in their arms. They ignored her apologies and promises to explain later and simply held on to each other. For a moment it didn't matter that she had traversed time or that they don't know what's to come or that people are going to die and there's nothing she can do. It was just them against the world as it had been for years.
"You know, when I imagined you dressed up in tight leather, this isn't what I had in mind." Fred's voice startled her out of her musings.
She tore her gaze away from the mirror to look at the redhead in the doorway.
"You might want to hold off on those fantasies because I did borrow some of this from Fleur." Hermione gestured to the tight corset and wicked heels.
Fred made a face and she laughed.
"So you're saying I can fantasize later?" Fred asked wiggling his eyebrows for effect.
Hermione shook her head smiling and swiped a pale hand with long fingernails through the air, waving him off and looked back into the mirror. She was surprised and crept out by the blush on her visage's face.
This… thing between the two of them had gotten stronger. And Hermione wasn't talking about the bond. Or maybe she was. It was all confusing, but it seemed that the air between them whenever they were in the same room was palpable and thick. The space was charged with energy that felt like magic and she'd lock eyes with him and a heady feeling would take over, shortness of breath, lightheaded, her pulse would race and she could hear it. She wonders if she's sick. Maybe she's just nervous about him and his fate.
There were more important things to think of anyway. Even if these past few week were the happiest and most alive she'd felt in years.
Fred, for his part, noticed the "thing" between him and it gave him hope. Relationships are a two way street and he often wonders if she knows, if she can feel the sexual tension between them. He practically chokes on it so she must right? George can't help but point it out to his twin at every available opportunity. And if George- of all people- knows…
But Fred can't let himself get distracted, there are more important things going on.
Fred thought about what was to come and what was going to take place that morning. Bill and Fleur had been happy to see Fred and George, and they were glad to see Hermione in good health. They told the couple that they would not be leaving early that morning and wouldn't be returning. Fred could see the worried frowns and glances they'd give each other. No one told them, but they knew, this was it.
Fred walked over to Hermione and met her eyes- that weren't hers- in the mirror.
"How are you holding up?" For once he was serious.
"I'm fine. Everything will go according to plan." She gave a little nod.
"You're not fine." That made Hermione turn around and face him.
"And what do you want me to say? You have no idea what this is like for me. To be here. To do this again. To parade around as, as her again. I-" She cut herself off and took a deep breath.
Fred never really noticed until now just how short Hermione was. But when he doesn't have to look down to meet her eyes, when he can look straight ahead and see how wrong it is to be staring into that face...
"So tell me." Hermione's eyes shot open and met his. "Tell me what it's like. Let me help you."
She opened her mouth to respond but a knock sounded and Griphook was standing there in the door frame. He jerked his head to the side beckoning them to follow and stomped away.
"There's no time." Hermione said as she made her way around Fred leaving him to follow.
They met the others at the apperation point by Dobby's grave. Harry was staring at the headstone with a sour twist to his mouth.
Hermione set about changing the boys' appearances to look older and more menacing. Griphook climbed on Harry's back. After she was done she appraised her work.
"Well none of you will make it on the cover of Witch Weekly that's for sure." She said as she tossed Harry the invisibility cloak.
The burly man with broad shoulders and a scar on his nose clutched his heart dramatically. "My life's aspiration is ruined. What will Angelina think of me now?"
They all chuckled a little bit before remembering what they were there for. They looked at each other and came to a decision. After checking to make sure Harry and Griphook were completely covered, they turned on the spot and landed in front of the Leaky Cauldron.
The small troop made their way through Diagon and Fred watched as people shied away and turned their heads in fear of their presence. Mainly Hermione's.
"You!" An older man hobbled up to them looking straight at Hermione pointing his finger. "My children. My daughters. What has he done with them! You would kn-"
"You dare speak to me!" Hermione screeched in a startlingly accurate imitation of Bellatrix's insane pitch. They tried not to flinch. "You dare speak that way to your betters!" She slashed her wand through the air in a show of power and swept the man aside without hurting him.
They carried on.
Fred noticed Ron giving a concerned look at Hermione and watched him look to George for answers but he just shook his head.
They were almost to Gringotts when a voice rung out behind them.
"Madame LeStrange! I must say I am surprised to see you out and about after that whole debacle at Malfoy Manor." A man, clearly a death eater, said with a smug grin. "In fact I heard your wand was-"
"I have my wand right here, Travers." Hermione spit out and twirled Bellatrix's wand in her hand. "I would be careful what rumors you listen to. Your favor with the Dark Lord only goes so far and clearly not as far as mine."
The man – Travers - clenched his jaw. "And who are these guys? A couple of strays?"
Hermione gave mad cackle. "How right you are! I picked them up fairly recently. New recruits. Foreign. Sympathetic to the cause. Don't speak any English." She finished with a pout.
Travers snorted. "And what are you and these… gentlemen doing in Diagon on this fine morning."
"A trip to Gringotts by the Dark Lord's command. He trusted me above all!" Hermione fawned.
"Right." Travers rolled his eyes. "I have business there myself, mind if I join you?"
"You mustn't! The Dark Lord will know you were here. You wouldn't like it if he knew you knew what I know now will he?" Hermione asked manically.
Travers looked like he was going to protest before a small jolt went through him and he seemed confused.
"Fine, you go right ahead then. Have a nice day, Bellatrix." And he turned and walked off.
They stood there for a moment watching him walk away confused by the abrupt departure but thankful none the less. Hermione quickly pivoted on her heel and began leading them to the bank once more.
They made it past the guards with some quick confundus charms. The other goblins paused their work to watch them with interest as they walked up to the counter.
Hermione tapped the marble surface in front of a goblin startling him.
"Madame Lestrange! How may I help-"
"I wish to enter my vault." Hermione commanded.
"Do you have identification?"
"I've never been asked this before!" Hermione said outraged. "Will my wand suffice?"
"Of course."
Hermione handed over the walnut wand and they watched the goblin inspect it.
"I see you've had a new wand made, Madame Lestrange."
"Of course I haven't. Don't be a fool."
Once again, the goblin was about to say something then his body gave a slight jerk.
"We will need the clankers." He told another goblin and led them to the doors.
A goblin rushed toward them. "Wait! There are instructions regarding the Lestrange vault!"
The two goblins had a hushed conversation.
Eventually the one from before said "I am aware, but Madame Lestrange wishes to see her vault." And continued to lead them to the stone doors that led out of the hall.
Once the doors closed Harry threw off the invisibility cloak.
"They suspect us." He said. He also explained about imperiusing Travers and the goblin. Everyone but Hermione and Griphook were taken by surprise but saw the necessity.
"So what do we do?" Ron asked.
"Can we go back out?" George wondered looking toward the doors they just came through.
"No, by now they'll have guards after us. We continue on as planned." Hermione said as she started to walk over to the tracks.
"We will still need Bogrod. I don't have the authority to operate the carts, and there's not enough room for everyone." Griphook said as they followed Hermione.
"We'll make it work." Fred said climbing in after Ron. George followed and the three brothers were squished in the back. Harry and Hermione squeezed up front with the goblins.
Everyone protested this arrangement but shouts and the sounds of feet running behind them was enough to keep everyone quiet. The cart gave a lurch and they were off.
The cart sped deeper underground around stalactites and stalagmites and over underground lakes. It took turns at breakneck speeds taking them farther and farther.
Suddenly Griphook shouted "No!"
Water poured over them, the cold seeping into their bones making them shiver. The cart came to a halt, gave a groan and suddenly they were falling. Hermione frantically cast cushioning charms for everyone and they glided painlessly to the ground.
Hermione shook off the over-sized robes, heavy with water. They landed with a slap on the ground leaving her in a slightly less over-sized corset, undershirt, and trousers. She was relieved to be back in her own skin. The boys felt their faces realizing they were back to themselves as well.
"Thief's Downfall!" Griphook said getting to his feet. "It washes away all enchantment, all magical conceal-"
"Concealment. Yes, yes. They know we're here, they're after us." Hermione cut him off as she patted down her pockets making sure she had her wand and beaded bag. Griphook looked put out at being interrupted and the twins had to hold back an inappropriate laugh.
"Harry, cast the curse on Bogrod again. We'll still need him to open the vault." Hermione gestured for Griphook to lead the way.
After walking for a bit, Hermione's feet were starting to ache from walking in the ill-fitting heels on the uneven ground. She didn't complain, but Fred's knowing smirk and offer to carry her spurred her to walk faster. She immediately stepped on a loose rock and gave a delicate squeak as she lost her balance. She would have fallen over if Fred hadn't caught her.
If it weren't for the sound of their pursuers or George's laughter. Or for Ron and Harry's presence. Or for the task at hand, she would have found this moment to be terribly cliché. Then again her life was never meant to be a romance and even though she reveled in the feel of Fred's lithe body against hers and the sparkle in his eye at the moment, there were more important things.
And then Fred kissed her forehead as he let her go and she promptly forgot all of them.
"So how are we going to get out of here?" Ron's voice filtered in through her haze and she caught Fred and George's exciting grins that only got wider when they felt the heat of flames.
Griphook pulled the clankers out of the worn leather bag and Hermione felt a familiar rush of compassion for the mistreated creature. George squeezed her shoulder and gave her a sad smile. She straightened her spine. They were going to break the creature out anyway. She'll throw a good word at Charlie later that there's a pale, blind dragon flying around Scotland and it'll be alright.
They made their way around the recoiling dragon, ignoring the resounding metallic clanging from the clankers, and waited as Harry ordered Bogrod to place his hand on the door.
Upon entering, Hermione warned every one of the curses placed on the treasure and cast impervious charms on them hoping it'll be enough. The door closed behind them with a bang. They slowly made their way deeper into the vault searching for the cup. Hermione cursed herself for not being able to remember which pile it had been on top of.
"There!" Harry cried, point up at it. The Hufflepuff cup. Belonged to Helga. Possessed by Hepzibah. Stolen by Tom.
"But how will we get it without touching anything?" George asked.
"Accio!" Fred tried unsuccessfully.
"Hermione. Hand me the sword and I'll be able to loop it through the handle-"
"No, I have a better idea." She said eyeing Griphook's greedy expression. She won't let him betray them this time.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a heavy tome. She flicked her wand and levitated it toward the top of the pile. They all watched as the book floated closer, knocked the cup from behind and sent it tumbling down toward them. The cup landed at their feet and skidded toward Ron who, in his haste to avoid touching it, jerked back and bumped into a pile of gold sending pieces cascading down and activating the curses.
"Nice Ron!"
"It's not my fault!"
Hermione sighed. Boys. She allowed herself a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose before swooping down, throwing the cup into her bag, and burning her hand in the process.
It was a blur from there. Everyone was shouting, skin was burning, the goblins were lost in a sea of treasure, guards were trying to get in from outside. Somehow, they were able to make it on the back of the dragon, dodging curses and breaking the chains. Griphook was there. Not surprising considering the sword was still tucked away in Hermione's bag. Dusty, torn wings were flapping and Hermione shot a bombarda maxima at the stone ceiling making their exit.
They flew for a long time. The excitement and adrenaline died down. Hermione passed around burn cream she'd made precisely for this occasion. Other than a few words assuring Harry they had the cup and giving Griphook the sword, no one spoke. No one wanted to break the air. Hermione had long since threw the pair of heels over the side of the dragon and put on more comfortable footwear. Without really thinking about it, she leaned her head against Fred's shoulder, closed her eyes and drifted, feeling the cold air rushing past them. She missed the looks shot between the twins and Ron and Harry.
A/N: I am completely obsessed with the idea that Hermione completely blue screens whenever Fred does something romantic. has stopped working.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this update. I'm sorry for the long wait, school is hell. But hey there's a very real possibility I could graduate early, so all my hard work could pay off!
Next chapter I'm hoping to have up around spring break maybe so give me a month, yeah? I'd love to hear your thoughts!