A/N: Hello, again! Thank you, as always, for the reviews and the favorites! They warm my darkened soul. Now, I know a couple of you were upset about Lily, don't freak out just yet! Also, in this chapter, you'll find that I have changed some of Hermione's background a tad and filled in some things and changed some things. We're dealing with AUs here, so just remember that as you read.
oOo
"Hermione."
She knew that voice.
"Hermione, love."
Amber eyes flew open to darkness and panic filled her lungs, forcing air out in swift, shallow breathes. She stood and her body felt as if it were being tossed about, pulled by the merciless undertow of a black ocean, while her mind went blank with fear.
"Mum!" She called out, half expecting the darkness to fill her mouth like water, but when none did, she felt firm, small hands grab her face. The world steadied, but her heartbeat did not. Hermione leaned into those hands and soaked up the power in them. "I-I can't see, Mum, I can't see."
"I know, Hermione, but you will." Her mother's voice cooed, her thumbs massaging soothing circles into Hermione's cheeks. "You will."
Hot tears swelled at the corners of Hermione's eyes and fell in unashamed drops down her face; she grabbed at her mother's wrists, gripping them tightly. Hermione had not seen her mother in years and the pain of still not seeing her, now when she was so close, was unbearable. It twisted in Hermione's gut like a living creature, newly awoken from hibernation and elated at the prospect of the spring. The spring of Hermione's anguish.
The obliviate was too perfect, too well constructed. It could not be undone and Hermione knew this was not real.
But she wanted it to be. More than anything in all the universe she wanted to feel, really feel, her mother's hands and hear her mother's voice saying her name. She would have given up everything to have her mother back.
Hermione tried to picture her mother's face, a face that looked so much like her own and yet completely different. Dark skin, darker than Hermione's, wild black hair, wilder than Hermione's, large brown eyes, browner than Hermione's. Her mother had always been darker and wilder. A child of Africa, she'd grown up on a farm in Nigeria and Hermione's grandparents had saved up all their money to send their only child to school in England.
Grief and guilt and pain filled Hermione, eclipsing all else as her mind's eye meticulously constructed every intricate detail that identified Jean Obioma Granger. "Mum..." She wailed.
The same soft thumbs wiped away the tears pouring down Hermione's face in horrid, ugly sobs. "My child, my only daughter, you will see."
Hermione tightened her grip on her mother's wrists, terrified of losing her even in a dream, and swallowed her sobs. "Wh-where are we, Mum?"
"Oh, child, don't you mean, where are you?" Hermione could hear the smile in her mother's voice. "You already know, you've known the whole time."
The hands dropped from Hermione's face and Hermione's fists closed, nails digging into her palms, as she suddenly held nothing.
"No, no, no, no!" She screamed, throwing her arms into the darkness around her, desperately groping for her mother's small form. The world tilted and shifted like sand beneath her feet and Hermione struggled to keep balance. "Mum! Mum! Please, come back, Mum, please!"
She was crying again, screaming she fell to her knees; she knew this wasn't real, she knew her mother was never coming back.
"Mum, please...please." Hermione pleaded with no one save blackness. She shut eyes tightly against the despair and lost herself.
And the blackness
stretched on.
And there was no pain,
no despair,
no fear.
And Hermione forgot her name.
Until
Light.
The dawn was slow, much slower even than the actual dawn, creeping over the horizon of Hermione's vision as if the sun would never reach the sky. With equal reluctance, Hermione's eyelids rose and she was accosted by the fierceness of the light, she squinted, but the movement shot hot barbs of pain through her skull. Hermione moaned, blinking rapidly, and lifted her hands to her head, cradling it.
"She's awake!" A man's voice exclaimed and Hermione felt movement besides her.
Awake? Godric, am I awake? I'd rather be dead. The pain continued to sear through her head, made only more intense by the voices speaking in hushed tones around her.
"Out of the way, Mister Lupin." Demanded a feminine voice, both familiar and foreign. Hermione knew that voice, how did she know that voice? It dripped through her ears and swam through her brain, nudging neurons of remembrance back into place.
Lupin?
Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "M-mmmphf?"
A face wearing a kind, but cautious smile, came into Hermione's view, blocking out the harsh overhead light, and the world around Hermione focused sharply. Madame Pomfrey. The voice belonged to Madame Pomfrey. Taking care not to move her aching head too much, Hermione took in her surroundings: she was in a bed with white linens and around her were more beds, some had white curtains drawn around them, and the rest were empty.
The Hospital Wing. She was in the Hospital Wing.
Hogwarts.
She could've cried from relief. Her face split with a smile that immediately fell when Hermione cast her amber eyes back to Madame Pomfrey, who was not looking at her with any sort of recognition as Hermione would have expected, in fact she seemed rather trepidatious.
"There, there, dear." Madame Pomfrey patted Hermione's shoulder gently and Hermione stared up into her face- her young face- and Hermione could have sworn she heard her own heart fall from her chest and hit the floor. "Don't try to speak just yet, you've been out for about ten hours, it's honestly quite shocking you awoke this early at all."
Ten hours? Oh, Merlin.
Madame Pomfrey drew her thin lips into a tight line and fluffed Hermione's pillow before turning her attention to the wizard behind her. Hermione followed the matron's gaze, realizing after a few blinks that the wizard was Remus Lupin, who ran a hand through his shaggy hair before sliding said hand back into the pocket of his Muggle jeans, the same Muggle jeans he had been wearing when he had walked through the fireplace at Grimmauld Place. The neurons Madame Pomfrey's voice had stirred lit up like a thousand fireflies in the night, buzzing about in impossibly intricate patterns.
Hermione searched Remus's face, but he was not looking at her, his green eyes remained fixed on Pomfrey.
"Mister Lupin, if you would, go inform the Headmistress that our guest is awake." Madame Pomfrey requested and as Remus was turning away, she added. "And please, do not inform Mister Black."
Remus looked back to the matron, before nodding and making a quick exit. Madame Pomfrey turned away and Hermione swiftly grabbed the older witch's hand -but not much older now- and asked, "Ma'am, please, what's happening? Where is Harry and-er and Lily?"
Hermione pushed down the grief in her chest at the image of the auburn haired witch's body on the floor. Maybe she shouldn't have used their names, maybe she should have feigned ignorance, but she was so tired and she had to know. Hermione was so tired of not knowing.
"Don't fret, my dear." Madame Pomfrey patted Hermione's shoulder again. "The Headmistress will explain everything. Just relax."
Relax? Relax? The word sent tremors of frustration through Hermione's limbs as she watched Madame Pomfrey shuffle about towards a cabinet stocked full of potions. I will not fucking relax. I'm about fucking done with this shite.
Hermione moved to get out of bed, her body felt heavy and sluggish, but the witch was determined.
"Young lady, what are you doing!" Madame Pomfrey rushed back to Hermione, attempting to push the woman back into bed.
Where is Harry? I have to find Harry. Hermione was too exhausted to fight against Madame Pomfrey's insistence that she remain in bed, and quite frankly she was loathe to fight the witch, but she absolutely could not stay here. She had to find Harry, ensure he was safe, and then get the Hell back to...to... somewhere. She reached inside her sleeve only to find she was missing her Auror robes, panicked, she reached inside the sleeve of her jumper and gasped.
"My wand." She whispered, her eyes widened and then narrowed. "Where is my wand?"
Madame Pomfrey pushed Hermione back down into bed and pulled the covers up to Hermione's chin.
"Where is my wand!" Hermione demanded and Madame Pomfrey snorted.
"Keep your voice down! There are others needing their rest, as you yourself need rest as well. The Headmistress has your wand and your robes."
The Headmistress? McGonagall. Hermione made a move to exit the bed again and Madame Pomfrey pushed her back down.
"You will be staying right here." The matron insisted firmly.
"Listen, I need my wand-"
"You have no use of a wand at present."
"I have no use of you at present."
"Pardon!"
Shite, was that out loud?
"What you need this potion! Open your mouth and take this." Pomfret began unscrewing the top of a potion bottle she quickly gathered form the cabinet, a potion Hermione recognized instantly.
"With all due respect, ma'am, I will certainly not be opening my mouth or taking anything."
"You will take this yourself, dear, or I will do it for you."
"Yes, by all means, please take the potion yourself, because I don't need it."
"Now, you know that's not what I meant."
"I will not be taking that potion! I do not need a Calming Draught. I need to get out of this-" Hermione was unable to finish her sentence as Madame Pomfrey grabbed Hermione's nose and quickly poured the liquid into her mouth.
Hermione shot up, sputtering and coughing as the liquid made its way down her throat.
"What the hell!" Hermione exclaimed between coughs.
"Language! There is really no need for that sort of foul behavior." Madame Pomfrey sniffed.
Foul behavior? Oh, I'm about to show you some fucking foul behavior, I'm gonna get out of this fucking bed and then I'm going to...going to...lay down. A warmth had slithered through Hermione's body, weaving its way through her veins and arteries and she sighed contently. What had she been so upset about? Her wand? Wands were such funny things, Muggles would laugh themselves silly to know real witches and wizards used wands, like the magicians from birthday parties.
Hermione giggled and Madame Pomfrey smiled. "See now, dear, isn't that better?"
"Hmmm." Hermiome smiled.
"Madame Pomfrey, what is the state of your patient?" A stern woman's voice demanded and Hermione looked up to the regal form of Minerva McGonagall and besides her, Remus Lupin, who was looking quite uncomfortable.
"Professor!" Hermiome smiled widely and slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I do beg your pardon, I mean, Headmistress."
Headmistress McGonagall crossed her arms over her chest, emerald green robes billowing out around her, and raised a grey eyebrow. "Have we met, child?"
"Yes," Hermione giggled. "I mean, no, no of course not. You and I have not met, but we have, I think we will meet. Well, actually, come to think, we did just meet, didn't we! Meet and met, what's the difference, really? Which trouser of time is it?"
Hermione erupted into a fit of giggles. McGonagall slowly turned her head towards Remus, both of her eyebrows now practically touching her hairline.
The werewolf threw up his hands. "Don't look at me, Headmistress, she was not behaving quite this ridiculously before."
McGonagall turned to Pomfrey.
"The girl was becoming hysterical, I gave her a bit of Calming Draught to settle her nerves." Pomfrey said.
"Yes well, that seem to be quite settled." The Headmistress remarked, turned back to Hermione. "What is your name, child?"
"My-my name?" Hermione's giggles slowed and she turned to Remus. "Did you not tell them my name?"
"A lot happened." Remus shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Granger was all I could remember. And an 'H'? Herrr...?"
"Hermione. Hermione Granger." She said lamely, coming down a bit from her momentary high, stung by the wizard's forgetfulness. They know your name, they have your wand, they obviously don't trust you. This is just a ball of laughs.
Unfortunately the thought of an actual ball of laughs, whatever that may be, almost made Hermione begin laughing again. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting into giggles, distantly registering how silly she was behaving.
"Well, then, Miss Granger, I don't suppose you're feeling up to taking a trip to my office? I do believe we have much to discuss." McGonagall said.
"No," Pomfrey said quickly. "She is not well enough, she needs to rest. She has been awake for fifteen minutes after being practically dead to the world for ten hours. She needs to stay here."
The reminder of how long she had been sleeping further sobered Hermione.
"As always, Madame Pomfrey, I defer to you in matters of health, but I'm afraid this may be a matter greater than all of us."
Madame Pomfrey opened her mouth but Hermione cut the witch off. "Yes, I'm well enough."
The older witches turned to Hermione, Madame Pomfrey's face was full of concern and McGonagall's was as tight a mask as ever. Hermione had always admired that about her favorite professor, you never could quite tell what the powerful witch was thinking.
"I'll go up to your office, Headmistress." Hermione said slowly, trying to keep a firm grasp on her mind and emotions that seemed to be slipping towards the ridiculous thanks to the Calming Draught. "Under one condition."
McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "And, pray tell, what condition is that, Miss Granger?"
"I will go up to your office as soon as you tell me where Harry and Lily are." Hermione said, raising her chin in mock confidence. Truthfully, she wasn't sure she wanted to know; if they were dead, if she had failed Harry in this way, even if this was another trouser of time or a hallucination, Hermione would never forgive herself. If she had not saved Lily or Harry then she could never forgive herself.
McGonagall's face twisted for a moment in thought, sizing up the younger witch. She turned to Remus, who was looking unbearably uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot, before settling her sharp eyes back on Hermione. "They are two beds over, Miss Granger. They are alive, due in no small part to your actions."