Finding Herself: Chapter 2
Hermione sat on a bar stool, twirling her straw in her Shirley Temple, feeling out of place in the fancy restaurant. She'd been eating cafeteria food for years now, and this was certainly different. There were waiters for starters, instead of a self-serve center, and the ambience of sophistication. Looking down at her own clothes (that were close to threadbare), she conceded that she wasn't ready for this sort of encounter. Beside her, Ron seemed at ease in this comfortable setting- being waited on hand and foot. It made her wonder what would happen when the war hit. They did not seem ready at all. It also got her thinking about the kind of person Harry Potter had become. If he walked in here with a tailor-made tuxedo, without a sign of stress on him, she would be worried.
The air between the two at the moment felt like two strangers forced to communicate. The uncomfortable silence was broken when she started to question Ron about his personal life.
Ron seemed to break out of a stupor, and responded guardedly. "Not married yet. But I am dating on and off." At her raised eyebrow, he added, "with the same girl."
She was able to process his secret message. He did not want to endanger someone he loved, by marrying them. He was unnervingly close to Harry in regards to what Voldemort would consider as a likely target. At his terse answer, she could tell he was reluctant to say anything else. Maybe it was for her safety and for the safety of the Order. She was just put off that he couldn't tell her – after all the time they had been friends. Just then, she felt a strong aura enter the restaurant. All the people in the room snapped their attention to the entrance. There was a dull silence, as the boy-who-lived rushed over to his best friends. He greeted them politely, and the Maitre'd escorted them to a more private area. Leaving the area, she could not help pick up snippets of conversation.
"Harry Potter, my, my, that boy has certainly done a lot in the short twenty years he's been living," a bald man duly noted.
A red haired woman from across the room was heard singing praises – literally.
"Long live Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter!", someone yelled.
As they neared their destination, she saw a man eye her with an open stare. He didn't fit in at all. The man was haggard, and unshaven, dressed up in rags a vagabond would not even consider wearing. She returned his stare, having every right to do so.
Harry Potter was not how she had pictured him. She watched how he reacted to the comments. He did not soak them up as she had expected, but he hadn't completely ignored them. He acknowledged them, smiling and waving, but never talking. He was not the reckless boy he was when she knew him, and he was not the suave man she had envisioned, nor was he a mixture of both. Sitting down after Ron, Harry sat beside her. She was in the middle of both boys. Wasn't this awkward? Then, she admonished herself. They are your best friends. They were your best friends. They would never be the Golden Trio again.
The area they had been taken to was in fact a small room, and very private. She searched for the magic in the room and could tell there were wards for apparition, against destruction, and the door was locked with magic that a simple 'alohomora' could not undo. They ordered their food as a waiter unlocked the door and came in, and she took the time to study Harry. He was harder to read than Ron. He was more somber than she remembered, and the light in his eyes had dulled. She could tell he had become much stronger, not just magically, but physically. He grew taller, and grew some muscles. He was quite handsome, in a roguish sort of way. Messy hair, a common trademark of his was ever present. His eyes were a brilliant green, and then she suddenly realized he did not have his glasses.
His dark chuckle startled her out of her thoughts. "To protect myself from Voldemort, it's best I don't have any weaknesses. If he could blind me just by taking off my glasses, I'd be in big trouble, wouldn't I?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Improved in legilimency haven't you? What about your occlumency?" She looked directly into his deep green eyes. She was not surprised to find a thick and foreboding barrier in her way. "Stronger than before," she noted with a smile. "I can't believe I haven't seen you guys in so long." She wrapped her arms around each of them, bringing them close. She was a little unsettled that Ron had flinched at her touch. "What have you two been up to?"
They both sent each other looks, and shrugged their shoulders. Harry sent her a pleading look, hoping she would understand.
"Oh, yes. Top secret information I'm not supposed to be aware of," Hermione said, trying to suppress the bitterness in the words, but failing.
Harry looked very apologetic while Ron did not seem at all affected. "Look, Hermione. I need to tell you something- something very urgent, but before I do it, you have to take an unbreakable vow that you will never mention it again. All right?"
He held out his hand, expectantly.
Hermione felt repulsed. It was a gesture that brought up the distrust between them. In her opinion, it effectively killed the mood that had a nice 'lovely reunion' feel to it. Now, she couldn't help but think that after all these years, he had come to use her. "Not yet," she heard herself answer in a far away voice. "Not until you tell me what's happened. Secret or not. Tell me about Ron. This isn't him."
The dishes they ordered appeared in front of them now.
Hermione was temporarily distracted by the delicious food in front of them, but then turned her attention suspiciously to 'Ron'. "You're not even eating. You always had a big appetite." Her eyes widened in surprise at what he had ordered. "You ordered fruit for dinner? Are you mental?"
It was evident that his cover was blown, so 'Ron' asked Harry silently if he could drop the mask, and received an affirmative nod. The voice that escaped Ron's mouth churned her insides. "Granger, if I eat any foods with salt in it, you can guarantee that my leg is gonna act up again."
The raspy, leering quality of it was not lost on her. Horrified, she jumped onto Harry's lap, and whipped out her wand. She thought, unnerved, about the Polyjuice potion they used in Second year. "Hermione, you're killing me," Harry said under the weight of his best friend.
"Oh…right." She climbed over his lap and sat on the other side of Harry. "How could you? How could you betray my trust Harry? You just let that – thing, hug me? Let him cozy up with me?"
"He's a member of the Order, Hermione," he said in a way that didn't give much of a defense.
'Ron' smiled again, but this time Hermione saw the smirk of a crude old man. "But-But, He's Moody!"
Harry glared down at his plate vehemently. Hermione almost felt sorry for the plate. "Things have happened in the war. Hermione, you have to know this. Earlier in the day, you saw Ron, right?"
She answered without a doubt. "Yes, that was Ron."
Harry's eyes lost the light in them. "You were the last person to see Ronald Weasley alive."
She remembered the feel of blood that wasn't hers on her skin, the screams of anguish, and the feeling of those blood-red eyes following her every move. The air hung with death, and horror. She had found a temporary refuge in the back door of a shop and decided to gather herself, before she could attempt anything. She'd lost her wits at the sight of the many she'd seen killed, blood everywhere.
"I'm glad you found a place to hide." Hermione felt indignant that he thought she was hiding.
She saw a glimpse of Harry's face before he turned away, his back facing her. "Hermione, I am asking you to stay here, please." He accentuated the please at the end.
"Harry, I agreed to fight. I am supposed to fight. I should be protecting you. Don't deny me this." She was pained, at his reluctance to let her be in the way of danger.
She saw Harry in front of her shaking- with anger or fear, she did not know, but he was impatient to help the others. Before he rushed to fight off the Death Eaters torturing a young woman, he said vehemently, "Do what you will." Watching him run off, she knew instinctively what she had to do.
Running to where she heard the screams of a young woman, she found the crux of the whole battle. There, in front of her, stood the most horrific sight. Hanging on the rafters, upside down, were many of her friends. She ducked under the heads of Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and countless others. Their faces would haunt her in her nightmares. Their lifeless, blank eyes staring at her, taunting her to act. Their bodies were slung callously over the planks of wood. She knew they had suffered unimaginable torture before they were given the mercy of death. In the middle of all the dead bodies, and blood, stood the most evil, inhuman being in the whole world.
He stood there, revealing her fate. Her dead friends seemed to guide her to him.
Lord Voldemort was in the process of torturing Ginny Weasley, who was bravely, trying to stop herself from screaming, or showing any sign of pain. Hermione wiped the tears that had leaked out of her eyes, and knew she was powerless. Ginny was too far gone, she knew. She did not notice Hermione's presence. Voldemort, enjoying the torture, was not so out of it. His eyes, even though focused, were solely on her. If she was as Gryffindor as everyone said, she'd at least try. Putting half-hearted effort in a stunning spell, she only expected to startle the Dark Lord.
Hermione did not know if he had a shield up, or if the spell was too weak to even have affected him. He did not stop torturing the poor girl, until he decided to speak. "I've been waiting for you, mudblood," he said in a hissing drawl. Ginny dropped to the ground, shivering, still twitching violently from the after-effects of the curse. She looked up at Hermione with pleading eyes.
She knew they were asking her to finish her off.
Hermione took a deep breath, ignoring the dark figure who was smiling at the scene, knowing if she could follow through, she would know the worth of honour and could be easy to corrupt. The secret knowledge filled him with glee.
She pointed the wand, and put all her hatred of the war into the curse. The energy focused at that one point, the brilliant green illuminating the eyes of a murderer. She released the power, and it hit her best friend on her chest. The force knocked her down, and left a ghost of a smile on her face. Ginny was safe from anymore pain.
Hermione's legs gave out as they crumbled beneath her. Her wand fell out of her grasp, and she hung her head low. Voldemort's inhuman laughs filled the air, and brought her out of her stupor. He neared her, and held out a mocking hand. "Welcome to the Death Eaters. You've just proven yourself."
She looked up at him and sent him a look that clearly said, 'F--- off, my friend just died, you heartless killer,', but he did not pay it any heed, inching closer towards her broken soul.