Chapter 23: New Scar
May 7, 2000
Continuation
The entire labyrinth that had been unveiled to Hermione was plain incredulous and for the last ten minutes, she was incapable of saying anything after Minerva finished her account. Without a doubt, the newly handed pieces were intertwining with the ones she had learned from Draco several weeks ago. The joint segments were reeling inside Hermione's head for contemplation she should not call upon, and yet the gyrating force in her heart had seemed to have jumpstarted…
Bellatrix in love...
In love with her Transfiguration Professor…
Thoroughly in love with Minerva McGonagall…
Weaving and colliding with—
I found fifth-year student Bellatrix Black trying to stop the bleeding of her hand…
I healed her cut and gave her a week of detention with me...
Bellatrix showed up with tons of chocolates and one beautiful quill…
Hermione did not have to be the 'Brightest Witch of her age' for her to deduce when, where or even how one Bellatrix Black had fallen into captivation with one Minerva McGonagall. That the pilot episode of such a story was just accounted to her, although unbeknownst— by the woman herself…
She could not stop her mind from envisioning how Minerva tended the bleeding hand of Bellatrix with disapproving countenance for the heedlessness, but also mixed with the natural gentleness that would have slipped onto the Professor's face— the face of a young and beautiful Professor… And of how in that moment, the integrated tenderness from Minerva would certainly win the heart of the untainted 15-year old Slytherin... Or if not that very moment, surely before that first detention ended.
In all probability, Minerva had stunned Bellatrix into wonder with her chastisement laced with benevolence after she rejected the young witch's appreciation slash bribe slash wooing gifts. An unadulterated consideration given to Bellatrix which she was unfamiliar with before that interaction.
Furthermore, when the older woman expressed that others may take advantage of her generosity, it must have punched a vast hole in Bellatrix's orientation of 'buying' and 'paying off' people as the common course of actions. It may never have occurred to Bellatrix the notion of her own vulnerability to be exploited, because in her mind, the giving (bribing) was always about gaining the upper hand over someone. Therefore, the natural and genuine concern from Minerva had rattled something inside the impressionable young Slytherin.
Hermione found herself questioning life, how it could be this paradoxical in its entanglement of people's choices, at such presented circumstances and provided chances… Of all the Slytherins… Of all the Hogwarts Professors… Of all the Death-Eaters who could've tortured her physically and verbally… And then of all the witches Bellatrix had fallen in love with… Of all the witches Hermione had fallen in love with…
Fucking interconnecting hell.
Minerva did not say anything more about Bellatrix's graduation and marriage to Lestrange, but with a brief mental consideration of its timeline, Hermione could simply infer that Bellatrix Black became Bellatrix Lestrange immediately after her education from Hogwarts, and signed-up as a death eater thereafter. One curious matter was how much of the Slytherin's decision to wear the dark mark was derived from her family alliance…and how much was because of personal insurgence?
Even more curious— the decisions made by the two witches pertinent to the most fundamental battle called 'light versus darkness'. It was not lost on Hermione that adult Bellatrix had taken exactly the same spot but on the opposite side where Minerva had stood. That one had served as deputy to Voldemort and the latter to Dumbledore, with the same unwavering loyalty to their leader and unfailing devotion to their cause.
To make the interconnectedness more damning, Hermione could not ignore the bloody parallelisms of the physical characteristics between her and the mad death-eater. Sure, Azkaban had made Bellatrix's appearance almost skull-like, and as such their similarities could not be easily identified. She would not have known herself if compared with that angry and cruel image of Bellatrix. Plus, the more than two decades gap between her arrival and Bellatrix's departure at Hogwarts was more than enough for anyone to not draw the parity. But fate intervened, via one photo during her stay at Grimmauld…
Hermione mentally dived further, back to that day; it was months before the full onslaught of the war when Sirius was gathering to get rid of his family mementos. She had picked up a photo out of curiosity, but what she got was more than what she was prepared for…
. . . . . . .
"I think I was 7 or 8 years old at that time… You know, when I did not know yet that I ought to be ashamed of this family…"
Hermione heard Sirius' jesting words, and also heard his anger mixed with lonesomeness… For a moment, they both stared at the photo in silence, but as her brown eyes widened at something peculiar, Harry's godfather pointed at the very same thing, or rather at the very person that got her disconcerted— at one grinning teenage girl.
"Hmm, how come you are in our family photo Hermione?"
Sirius voiced out what she had started seeing and this got her to stare more intensely at the photo. She attempted to not give credence to the glaring physical likeness between herself and that girl, who turned out to be Bellatrix Black at 15 or 16 years old. That except for Hermione's lighter brown hair, their eyes, nose, jaws, cheeks, lips, and even their skin— have such bizarre resemblance that had given her a cold uneasiness.
"But I reckon you are way more beautiful…" The marauder grinned at her and told her more of the unwanted 'similarities' she had with Bellatrix. "You know Hermione, they said my cousin was quite the brilliant student at Hogwarts. I'm sure not as brilliant as you, but yeah, they said she was excelling in school."
"Obviously not really brilliant, to not know not to follow you know who…" Hermione retorted with a grin to cover her unease.
"Yeah, what a waste…" Sirius said in an unmistakable tone of disappointment, and then typically turned back into grinning when he continued, "And Hermione, that's why you are a bloody Gryffindor! You are not only brilliant to know, but very brave to call out what it is."
"But Gryffindors are known for not properly thinking first?" Hermione teased Sirius.
"True young lady, but it is because our courage leads us to the right path…" Sirius responded in a smirk.
"Right. But not before such courage causes several mishaps on the way to the right path!" Hermione countered.
Sirius laughed and expressed how he was very much convinced that Harry was so lucky to have her in Gryffindor house and not lose her to Ravenclaw, given her undeniable wit. Then without warning, Sirius donned a distant look as he gave her another gateway towards an unasked piece of information about Bellatrix.
"You know, I wasn't really the first Black who belonged to Gryffindor House?"
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, feeling more dread for what Sirius was about to reveal to her.
"When I got sorted to Gryffindor house, obviously it resulted in massive castigation from my family. When I argued that it was the bloody sorting hats' doing, they told me that Bella was considered to be Gryffindor by that thing as well. She of course told it to put her to Slytherin where her family belongs. I guess, she wasn't really a Gryffindor for not having the courage to dissatisfy our family…"
Hermione could not believe such revelation and could not really say anything in response. Then Sirius went on gathering his family memorabilia for destruction and left her with her thoughts… She silently recalled Harry's story of what Dumbledore had told him about one's choices that define them, not the house that one belonged to. And strangely, she felt that Bellatrix actually meant that she needed not to go to Gryffindor to say that she was brave. Like how she knew she needed not to go to Ravenclaw to prove her intelligence…
Hermione chose to shelve the matter after a sigh. But not before her mind prompted a supposition of what would have happened if Bellatrix had belonged to the house where one Minerva McGonagall was the head… She knew that such a fact was shaping her own life in a way, the substance of which she was ill equipped to confront at that time.
. . . . . . .
The recalled supposition from the memory was thought long before the war fully unfolded and ended, before Sirius had died, before so many things… And now, after so many things that had happened, and after she just learned critical details from Draco and Minerva of which concerned one Bellatrix, the same supposition could not be more important in the overall scheme of what could have been…? For Bellatrix… For Minerva… For her…
Minerva stirred in her arms and placed a light kiss on her chest again. It pulled her back into the here and now, and of how the same woman was still naked just as she was, after their coupling indulgence… And somehow it also prompted Hermione to dive into deeper reflection of the knotted connection of herself with the dark witch— Bellatrix who had scarred her arm with mud blood…
Narcissa told Draco that Bellatrix carried a scar that never healed, the scar of never believing in love again… And with a claim of how it was singularly caused by the rejection she received from the very same emerald-eyed woman presently snuggled under her chin— Minerva… Of how Bellatrix did everything she could to win Minerva's love… Of how she pleaded with Minerva to accept her love… And of how Minerva rejected it… Rejected Bellatrix's love…
Like how Minerva is rejecting your love Hermione— and thus scarring you now…
The last thought led a massive attack of wretchedness inside Hermione and she was hurled into an alarming cramping of her heart. She wanted to shove the thought into the farthest pit. But the ugly truth was forcing its way for acknowledgement and for more cruel suppositions…
One of these days, Minerva will gently sit you down and tell you she doesn't want you anymore… Not even for an annual shag… She'll simply regard you as Ms. Granger, and you'll be barred with walls after walls, and more walls…
And that will be the deepest SCAR on you…
One that will NEVER EVER heal…
Hermione's lid on her emotions burst open and brought her into unwanted confrontation… Her mind replayed Minerva's frightened emeralds after her confession of 'I love you, Minerva' and the apparent decision of the woman to ignore it… And then laced the episode with an imaginary one of how Bellatrix probably got down on her knees for Minerva's love… And maybe Draco's statement, 'gently sat her down' meant Minerva simply ignored the Slytherin and barred her with her damnable walls… Hermione shut her eyes tightly in an effort to gather and pull back her thoughts, but it was too late…
"Did Bellatrix get an 'Outstanding' mark?"
The question was out before it dawned on Hermione of what she had asked. And she must have truly unscrewed her filter when she even made a follow through…
"Did Bellatrix manage to uphold her promise to work and achieve an Outstanding' in Transfiguration?"
"It doesn't matter."
She heard Minerva's response accompanied with an unconcealed exasperated sigh. Maddeningly, it brought out a certain cruelty in Hermione and a sharp taunt slipped past her lips…
"Come on, did the Slytherin Miss Black thrive in your NEWT level class— dear Professor?"
Hermione felt the woman stiffen in her arms. But she seemed to have lost her mind from the severe insecurity that started suffocating her. With full consciousness of her palpable disdain, she let go of the words that would indubitably underline her initial assaults.
"No doubt Bellatrix had the skills. Otherwise, Voldemort would not take the vacated mentor post to continue developing her skills... Which came tremendously handy in torturing and killing people."
Hermione was horrified with what she had voiced out, but she could not stop herself from letting out waves of viciousness she did not know she was capable of…
"Did you know that not only did Bellatrix sample me with crucio again and again, but she also passed down a lesson to Harry on how to cast a proper one? I supposed she became the professor that night to us, albeit the subject was dark magic. Imagine had she been the one sent by Voldemort to Hogwarts instead of the Carrows— you would've been fellow Professors? Do you think you could have gotten close as colleagues?"
"Hermione, do listen to yourself and hear your own words right now…"
The soft but obviously restless words came out of Minerva as the woman rolled away from her and started summoning her clothes, while getting off the bed.
"You're leaving?"
Hermione heard her nasty accusing tone but the thundering in her throbbing heart deadened her faculties for anything else but ferocity. And when Minerva did not immediately respond, and carried on dressing with clear intent to depart, it seemed to cut the last of Hermione's restraints.
"Was an afternoon fuck too early for you…?" Hermione raised her voice, and she knew it was now dripping with malevolence at each syllable. Minerva flinched but she ignored it.
"…So early you can't even wait for nightfall when I am dead asleep before you escape?"
"Hermione, it is not—"
"Oh is it because you fucking reached your quota today when you came inside me?"
"Hermione—"
"What if I want to fuck more? Do I get an encore later tonight? Do we sneak back here?"
"I am going back to Hogwarts, for clearly you are—"
"So I guess I need to find it elsewhere because THE HEADMISTRESS will be now unavailable—"
"Hermione—"
"—UNAVAILABLE to fuck…! And for fuck's sake, I suggest next year, the headmistress and the Golden Brain should just skip the fucking commemoration and all its pretense and go straight here TO FUCK! After all, this is turning out to be our annual fuck? Our commemorative shag…? Right?"
Minerva flinched again, and this time Hermione grimaced at her own words but the fear she had harbored for the last two years was making its ugly vengeance with twisted pronouncements. And at this point, she too had gotten up and started to violently put her clothes on as she continued with her cruel offense.
"Maybe you could mentor me on how to manage fucking people around such a precise schedule, share your systematic rendezvous! I can see that the revered Transfiguration Master has mastered as well how to fuck around without a single strand of scandal. I, on the other hand am limited to a handful of fucks because really, I have yet to learn how to do it like you do, so that my escapades will not appear in tomorrow's news."
Hermione knew that she had just resorted to flat-out lying. Of course, she never fucked around, and truthfully she would never. She couldn't even imagine herself looking at anyone that way, let alone actually sleeping with someone else… It had always been, and was still just Minerva…
And yet, she just implied that she did fuck around… But the falsehood was basically her attempt to cover the burning pain in her heart… To stop the thoughts running rampant in her mind… That she was Minerva's second go affair with an enamored, susceptible (former) student…? Or that she was a twisted deliverance from what happened to Bellatrix…?'
"What are you really saying, Hermione?" asked Minerva, interrupting Hermione's next assault.
Hermione paused and realized that Minerva's issued questions just metaphorically led them both to a junction… Green eyes entirely encased with impregnable walls held her brown eyes… Hermione followed suit and brought out her own walls…
"What are you really saying Hermione?" repeated Minerva after one long stretch of silence in her damn tone that no one could ever decipher the intended meaning of… It thoroughly reminded Hermione of how veteran the woman was when smacked in the middle of a maddening situation. And how she would never match Minerva's self-sufficiency and control…
Hermione knew she could not make herself plainly answer Minerva's question… In its place, and not for the first time, Hermione felt the surge of temptation to beg for Minerva's love. The overwhelming force wanted her to get down on her knees and say—
'Please Minerva, tell me you got my mud blood scar healed because you care for me… Because you love me, or at least could love me… And not because you feel guilty for what another witch that you have loved did to me… Or that you can't stand being with me reminding you that I am a mud blood… Please, please tell me you want me as I am… That we could be more than what we have resulted in since the last two years— that we are not just annual fuck mates…"
Frightened to the core to tell Minerva of what she really wants to say, and yet desperately needing Minerva's response— of assuring answers she hopelessly sheltered in her heart to receive from the woman she loved above all… She needed to know that they could afford to be more… And that Minerva wanted to afford more…
But with barricaded emerald eyes holding her brown ones against such a strong fortress, Hermione's Gryffindor courage completely abandoned her. She let her Ravenclaw brain take over and it got hold of the self-preservation that propelled her default reaction— to escape…
"I can't do this anymore," Hermione murmured and she did not wait a moment longer for Minerva's response. In a split second, she accio'd her remaining stuff as she ran out of her bedroom, barged down the stairs and exited the house out the back door without looking back.
In the backyard, she hastily fixed herself before all together getting out to the street on foot. She did not attempt to disapparate in her condition just to be safe from splinching. She couldn't have a repeat episode of needing Harry to save her. Besides he would surely demand a more truthful account of its cause, which she still couldn't supply him.
She forced herself to take one step after another, away from her house, cross-cutting in between yards that she had known since she was a young girl and unaware of the entire wizarding world…
For a good while, she kept on walking even without a destination in mind. For her thoughts were loaded with what just happened… And her heart was still thundering from the emotional muddle of loving Minerva, of wanting Minerva, of needing Minerva… And the pain from the captivity of it…
Someone bumped her, or she bumped someone, and when she looked up to apologise, a muggle man beat her with, "I'm sorry, are you okay? I'm trying to be on time to my wife's birthday dinner…"
Dinner.
It reminded Hermione of the dinner at the Burrow that she should be attending right now… She groaned as it was the last place she wanted to be in her present state. But she knew that if she did not show up at all, Harry and Ron would immediately be at her flat, checking on her. A prodding from them, more so a dialogue with them in a confined setting was truly not something she could handle. Briefly, she considered staying away from the Burrow and her flat to avoid them and avoid everything, but her conscience wouldn't allow her, knowing that both her best friends would be extremely worried about her.
Damn her best friends. Their taking care of her was actually her taking care of them. And at times, she detested it so much… No, that was untrue… She knew that to detest the concern of her best friends was plain ridiculous. She detested herself, actually… For ever putting herself into a conflicting position and grinding herself in it in silence…
The Burrow's door opened just before Hermione's knuckle touched the surface and she was greeted by Audrey. She pasted a smile on her face and returned the greeting when she stepped into the foyer.
"I'm actually on my way to use the loo and I noticed you from the window." Audrey said in explanation for the timely opening of the door for Hermione. "We just sat down at the table, so hang your coat and go right ahead." Audrey told her as the witch left her and continued her way to the bathroom.
Hermione did as told, took a deep breath and reinforced her pasted smile before she entered the room where everyone was indeed seated for dinner. But within two seconds of her appearance, and before she could really announce herself, she heard Molly Weasley's horrible gasp, "Hermione, dear!"
Instinctively, it took Hermione's attention and she directed her gaze towards the matriarch. The usual overzealous expression of Mrs. Weasley whenever she saw her was notably absent. Instead she found an almost haunted one.
"Hello Molly. Hello everyone..." she cautiously greeted with a small wave. Strangely, when the others turned to look at her as she did so, she noticed that they suddenly adapted similar expressions to the one that Molly had.
"I'm sorry I'm late. I got sidetracked and forgot the time." Hermione managed to get out the obfuscation as she carried on greeting the lot, all the while trying to figure out the odd sense at the Burrow's dining table.
And not a second later, Harry implanted himself overly close to her to give her a kiss in greeting. Also, her best friend whispered to her, "Mione, your arm…"
It took Hermione a second to understand what Harry just said. And then the reactions of the people in the room clicked. She had overlooked casting a concealing charm on her mud blood scar. Of course when she took off her coat, given she was wearing a short-sleeved top, the scar had been put on display.
"You mean my 'mud blood' scar?" She didn't know what possessed her but then and there she elected to bring the matter front and center. "Yeah, it's not that angry anymore…" she said and even raised her arm like it was the most casual matter in the world to unveil.
"Do you want us to kill whoever did that to you?" asked George calmly but with most grievous intent.
"Oh, your mother already did. It was Bellatrix. This was the mad witch's grand masterpiece during our capture at the Malfoy's manor. She wanted me to know how worthless my mud blood life was and suffer every second, before I suppose, she killed me…"
An eerie silence descended on the Burrow, and vaguely she remembered that the house may have held a poor family, but their name was a pureblood, and from the good ones, thus hearing 'mud blood' was every abominable to them as she saw it on her arm.
"You know you are not worthless, Hermione," said Ginny with strong conviction. "And that scar proves what you have overcome. That you have beaten evil."
"Oh, I know, Gin. Still, I wanted it gone, for it was imprisoning me at times."
"I don't understand, I thought you had it healed even before the war ended?" Asked Ron with apparent confusion.
"I couldn't. Not until Draco Malfoy carved himself thrice for the ritual that we underwent to lift the curse."
"Malfoy carved himself?" Asked Ron with obvious shock this time.
"Yes." Hermione nodded. "I didn't even think I could get it healed because the ritual needed impossible requisites to counter the personal curse by Bellatrix… When I say impossible, they were really impossible to procure, except the venerated Headmistress sponsored them. "
"The Headmistress knew how to get rid of it?" Asked George.
"Headmistress McGonagall provided you the requisites?" Asked Percy almost at the same time.
"Yes, Was there something she doesn't know. Also, what is impossible to a witch like her? Right…?" Hermione responded like she was merely reciting a common notion. "The ritual needed a relative of the offender and Draco helped me. And yes, the one and only one Headmistress made the impossible requirements possible and had them delivered at my door..."
She told Harry a month ago about her healing scar… to sort of release him from the guilt that he had taken upon himself because of it. But she never went into details and she could see how he was collecting them now from what she just imparted…
Hermione's brain warned her to be careful with her words lest be read by her olive eyed best friend, especially in conjunction with the mentioned venerated witch, whom he was having a very, very tight familial relationship with these days. However, Hermione's revolting heart from the new scar carving in her led her to yammer some more.
"The Headmistress has no doubt been working around the clock since the war ended… With her ardent intent to fix every damaged aspect, every person damaged by the war."
As she said those words, Hermione deliberately stared at George, who unmistakably took a deep breath. Vaguely she also heard Harry do the same thing… for amongst the present in the lot, they were the ones who could most relate to what she just stated.
Actually, if there was one very well defined matter to Hermione, it was the fact that Minerva Isobel McGonagall existed in the lives of almost every creature of their kind. For some, it may have been on individual relevance, but for the rest, undoubtedly, it was in a grand scheme of things. The woman had become the chief entity, probably because Dumbledore got himself killed and threw the part he vacated to Minerva. And if Hermione would be so honest with herself, she knew she was being selfish to want, and to need the woman for herself. And very foolish to even think she should have Minerva…
Hermione inwardly sighed as the rage and rejection she earlier felt during her row with Minerva were altogether joined by desolation. She felt her descent to the pit with alarming intensity… wherein she had no idea how bottom was the rock bottom of her direction…
"So, it will completely be gone? " Charlie clarified and she nodded at him. "And you're now all right, Hermione?"
"Yes. It's just a scar… And after making my life a nightmare since that day, it's finally healing… And really, I ought to be thankful, because Dobby gave us the escape that sadly cost his life, but as you know, saved ours…"
And saved me from the promised brutality whispered in my face by one evil woman.
Hermione withheld the last one. But things had started to come back to her, and they were landing in their ugly places. Whereas at the time she heard them, she could not really understand. The pain from crucio had short-circuited her brain from comprehending Bellatrix's blabbering. Thereafter, she had buried every insult in order to escape them. But with today's affair and the inevitable new scar carving into her heart, they were all released from the depth of denial and confinement. Bellatrix's voice in her head was making her grasp everything with clear vehemence…
"My nephew said that you're pretty smart for a mud blood... smart for a Gryffindor… I reckon you must be her favourite girl? Are you? Are you hers already? She likes intelligent ones, I know! Oh, what a treat if that is so…"
"My, my, I will reward myself with you… your young body looks yum… What a goody to play with… And darling, I want you awake for it… Then I'll send your dead body to her…"
"And she'll know… I'll make sure that she'll know that I've played with her smart mud blood Gryffindor."
The 'She', and the 'Her' from Bellatrix's blabbering meant Minerva... Hermione had buried those things and the present recollection together with the comprehension was all the more digging the carving of the new scar in her heart…
"Dear, if I could bring Bellatrix to life, I would. Just to kill her all over again for you." She heard Molly as the woman came near her and touched her shoulder and offered her a comforting smile.
Hermione decided that she had put the Burrow's occupants in such a damp atmosphere for too long, and they didn't deserve it. She brought out her Hermione Granger public persona that she had started wearing when she became Department Head. She let out a grin and told Molly, "The first was more than enough, Molly… Now, what I will never get enough is your impeccable cooking. Shall we dig in? I can hear Ron's tummy complaining."
"Mione!" Ron protested while the rest laughed. Then an unspoken unanimous agreement was struck that they were done with the topic of war damages.
Harry semi ushered Hermione towards a vacant chair. It was beside his and apparently saved for her. When everyone seemed to have settled back into focusing their attention on the food on the table and their own choosing of different topics, Hermione inwardly sighed in relief that her diversion was subscribed. But when she was helping herself with some potatoes, she felt olive eyes on her, and realized that one person had not completely bought her jovial dismissal. She wanted to ignore him but it would be fruitless.
"I'm okay." She faced Harry and softly told him. She even made sure to look him directly in the eyes.
"Are you really?" Asked Harry as softly and only for her own ears.
Hermione nodded and pasted a smile on her face. "I am actually hungry." And turned back to serving herself and ignored the lingering look that she knew that Harry kept on her.
Throughout several dishes served and cleared out, the table managed to steer them into so many subjects. George hosted the majority of them when he talked about several original ideas they had for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Hermione tried her hardest to participate in the discussion as much as she could despite the turmoil going on inside her… Conjured images of Minerva and Bellatrix were thoroughly making her insane, but she gave everything in her to keep the lid on it…
At one point, her brain caught up on how she had been foolish to say the things she had earlier to the Burrow's occupants... Granted that they were provoked by the exposure of her mud blood scar, but she needed not pull it apart for an exhibition… What a fucking idiot! She internally berated herself and berated some more when Harry asked her if she was truly okay for the nth time in the last two hours.
It was obvious that one Harry Potter had tightened his watch on her and did not let up for a second the moment Hermione unwisely gave them a disclosure of her mud blood scar. Clearly, she would have to deal with it— with him for the next few days. She loved Harry, and appreciated so much the love and concern that he was giving her. But the truth was, it was adding to her burden of loving Minerva…
After the war, she had seen how Harry had attached himself to Minerva and how it was really good for him… Admittedly, Hermione would have to describe it as an almost gift to witness them become closer each passing day, particularly knowing the immense struggles the two had conquered in their respective lives… Her best friend obviously treasured his developed familial relationship with the woman. Ginny once jested that Harry would, if he could, hyphen McGonagall to Potter and take the combined name as his new family name… While many times she would feel enormously jealous of Harry, she was very much happy for him.
Except right now, Hermione wanted to mangle Harry for the repetitive question, 'Are you okay Mione?' Sure, she was not truly okay and it did not help that she had temporary insanity when she arrived and made a show of her mud blood scar. But she already did a complete turn around, ensuring that she was engaging with everyone. For that, she did not miss how George and Angelina had crossed the line from being friends to easing into something more. And how it was rubbing her unintentionally in the wrong way to be reminded that people were moving on with their lives while she seemed to be stuck at loving Minerva with an inevitable tragic ending…
Hermione kept her smile firmly pasted the entire dinner and laughed at the right time. She had brought out her full Hermione-Granger-Golden-Brain-Rising-Witch persona to cover for earlier. But Harry wouldn't leave her alone with his prolonged observation and over concern…
When Molly and Audrey were heading to the kitchen to bring out more drinks, Hermione jumped at the opportunity to escape Harry's side and joined the women. Most unfortunately, Harry volunteered right after she did. And that she found herself alone with him in the kitchen eventually.
"Mione, what's wrong?" Harry stated without preamble after Molly and Audrey exited the kitchen door.
"Nothing is wrong Harry," Hermione responded with a smile, withholding her exasperation.
"Hermione Granger does not simply forget her concealing charm that she has done the last two years."
"Maybe Harry Potter is worrying too much…? Maybe I have decided to finally be liberated from the scar and move on…?"
"You did not sound unburdened when you were talking about your scar."
Because a new scar is carving itself hard inside me, which in all likelihood will leave me disintegrated forever…
Hermione screamed in her mind. She finally cancelled her pasted smile and seriously addressed her best friend's anxiety.
"Harry, leave this prodding."
"I'm sorry, Mione. But I worry. I can't help but sense something is not right. Something happened between the commemoration at the Ministry and your arrival here at the Burrow. And considering today—"
"No Harry. Today's commemoration did not bring me back to being lost."
"But something else did."
Fuck.
"And I can read the same level of pain in your eyes that I saw during the very first commemoration on Hogwarts grounds. Maybe it was or wasn't the same matter that had gotten you almost killed afterwards when you splinched… But I told you that I knew I should not have left you on your own. So I won't tonight."
Really fucking hell.
And Harry wasn't done.
"No matter how you have improved your acting skills, your public self, I can see the real you, Hermione. On the run, we were together out there on our own for long days and nights and that has made me qualified to call it when I see it."
Hermione gritted her teeth. Harry was stripping her down and she was not prepared to handle him— not in her current state.
"I am fine, Harry."
"Hermione, please do not lie to me. Why won't you tell me the truth so I can help you?"
Hermione lost it and barked, "Harry, STOP playing the hero! You cannot save everyone and everything!"
"HERMIONE! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" Ron's shocked, loud, croaked voice penetrated Hermione's mind before she realised what she'd just slapped Harry with.
Apparently her red-haired best friend followed her and Harry and just witnessed her idiocy and cruel words— Harry, stop playing the hero! You cannot save everyone and everything!
"I'm sorry… I need to go…" Hermione mumbled and exited the kitchen.
Despite the hot swirling suffocation she was currently enslaved with, her brain registered the odd stillness of the dining room when she re-entered. She just knew that each person did hear the row amongst the 'Golden Trio'.
She went to Molly and Arthur, and eyes down casted, she gave her thanks for dinner and her lame excuse of not feeling well before hastily exiting the Burrow. She needed to leave before she exploded further and torched this kind family. The guilt of what she had said to Harry was like a gun start and it released every single destructive thought and feeling inside her.
"Hermione, wait."
Behind her, she heard Ron's running steps. His long stride made him reach her before she got to the required distance to apparate.
"I need to go, Ron." Hermione clenched her jaw as she tried to get away from him.
"I'll take you where you want to go, just don't apparate by yourself…"
"Why the hell not?"
Hermione blasted at what Ron had said.
"Harry asked me not to let you."
"Not let me?"
Hermione exploded even more.
"He said you could hurt yourself again in your state."
"Bloody Harry."
"What the hell are you chewing Harry for? Was he right? He said that you splinched. When the bloody hell was that?"
At the mention of 'splinching', Hermione was assaulted by the memories of that splinch along with the wretched reason she splinched— Minerva. The damn woman's very first rejection...
Then two years passed, two top masteries achieved, the Ministry's unprecedented promotion- they all represented nothing because right now, right this moment, she was still a pitiful in-love person… In love with someone who would not accept her love…
"Let me take you home, just to ensure you're okay."
"What do you bloody mean to ensure I'm okay? Oh please… I may be blinded, gagged, wandless, bleeding or whatever state I may be in, still I am better than you at almost everything. So never belittle my power just because you are a pure-blood."
"Hermione, that's NOT what I meant—"
"Will you all you stop treating me like a fucking meager dislocated person in this world of yours?"
Hermione did not stop to think about her assault, did not stop to let Ron respond. She focused on her cracking magic, grabbed her other best friend and disapparated.
"See… Without a doubt I am capable." Another assault that she issued once they landed in a deserted lot just behind her flat.
"Go back Ron. I do not need someone to babysit me, I can bloody take care of myself." She pushed her dumbfounded best friend and did not look back as she headed to her flat.
"What the fuck am I doing?" Hermione screamed as soon as she entered her place and barred her door with multiple charms.
As the first tears ran down Hermione's face, she slid down on her cold floor, and then it spelled out to her without warning— That she was wreaking havoc in her wake as she broke from the idea of her and Minerva together…
That she had to break from the captivity of loving Minerva McGonagall…
That she was breaking her own heart…
.
.
.
End of Chapter 23
Year 2000 – New Scar
I had trouble writing by the time I got to the middle the part. I kept stopping from typing as my fingers were shaking... How about you, did Hermione's pain yank you to the gutters as well?
