Back for more? :D Enjoy!
A/N: Quick logistical note. In the AU of this fic, Regulus, Narcissa and Helen are the same age (all born in 1957) sorry about the confusion, but for the sake of continuity, I figured I'd make sure to point this little detail out. And yes as I always say, this fic is strictly AU!
Limbs suddenly rigid as boards, Hermione fell headfirst unceremoniously to the ground as Minerva McGonagall fought her way through the throngs of gawking students. "There is nothing to see here!" She snapped at the crowd, shooing them with a swatting motion of her arms. "I mean it! All of you, back to your houses now!" As the others pushed past him, Harry remained glued to the spot, staring down at the now immobile Hermione, her bloodied face frozen mid-snarl with her red teeth bared. Two healers followed closely behind Madam Pomfrey, newly arrived on the scene, and they immediately fell to Pansy's side and began their mechanical dance of diagnosis. The medical staff uttered gasp upon gasp as they pored over the multitude of injuries inflicted upon the Slytherin girl by Hermione. Pomfrey stood after a few minutes of inspecting the two bodies and glared disbelievingly at McGonagall.
"Minerva. You mean to tell me that Miss Granger…Miss Hermione Granger did this to Miss Parkinson!" Spluttered the nurse, her tone rife with disbelief. McGonagall mutely nodded. "Three broken teeth, fractures in her nose, skull and jaw, possibly a cracked rib or two, and, Merlin's beard, even a bite wound! Minerva…it looks as if she wrestled with a wolf! I may not even have the very resources needed to fully heal her, the injuries are beyond what I can treat!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed with exasperation.
"And what of Miss Granger?"
One of the healers spoke. "Right periorbital hematoma, two fractures middle phalange of the right hand, and a few minor lacerations."
"Put simply…" Madam Pomfrey crudely translated. "The girl has nary a scratch."
Minerva twitched her jaw for a moment, clearly unsure of what to make of the diagnoses. "Well what is your suggestion Poppy?"
Madam Pomfrey heaved a sigh. "St. Mungo's straightaway for Miss Parkinson. Granger can be given a cot in the hospital wing." The healers, levitated Pansy's broken and battered body, and slowly left the courtyard. McGonagall took it upon herself to raise Hermione's form and walk with Madam Pomfrey toward the Hospital Wing.
Sensing Harry's presence the Headmistress turned to face the young man with a stoic face. "Mr. Potter, don't you have classes to attend?" Harry frowned and nodded. "You can visit Miss Granger within a few hours, although I doubt she will be in good spirits." The elder witches made their exit, leaving behind a very conflicted Harry Potter.
Everything was blackness and muted voices. Senses slowly returning to normal, she fluttered her eyelids open. Wincing at the harsh light pouring in through the windows of the hospital wing, she attempted to sit up; instantly regretting the decision as she inadvertently put too much pressure on the broken fingers of her right hand. The pain shot through her forearm like lightning and she clutched her aching hand with her left, stridently groaning.
"Miss Granger…" It was McGonagall; her shrill accent like a gong to the head. Eyes fully focused, Hermione could make out the form of the older witch, dressed in deep green velvet robes. Upon her chiseled face was a profound scowl. She rose to her feet and closed the distance, hovering over the girl's bed. "You do realize you are in quite a bit of trouble."
Hermione surveyed the Headmistress' gaze with indifference. She gave a mere shrug of her shoulders. "I honestly don't see why." This surprised the elder witch for a moment, who ventured to speak twice over but only silence came to her lips. The dim light of the hospital wing barely illuminated the younger witch's eyes, one of which was sporting an angry bruise. It was a most unsettling sight.
"Your behavior as of late has been nothing less than deplorable. Late to classes, missing assignments, even so far as to blatantly ignore the dress code. You never return with the group on Friday trips to Hogsmeade!" She listed out on her fingers. "I suspect there is something going on Miss Granger. Never would I in my wildest dreams imagine that I would need to stop a fistfight involving you." Hermione regarded the witch's words with a flippant running of her non-injured hand through her curls.
"And how is dear Pansy?" Came Hermione's snide reaction, her face completely insincere. She absently picked at split ends in front of her eyes, the irises crossing in the process. The Headmistress scowled at the dismissive behavior he young Gryffindor was exhibiting.
McGonagall sat in silence for a moment; whatever she wished to say was not pleasant. "She has been admitted to the intensive care unit of St. Mungo's. The healers claim that if you had struck Miss Parkinson any harder, you might have put her into a coma. Had Mr. Potter not intervened, I am afraid you would've done it with no thought."
Hermione shifted her gaze to meet the Headmistress'. "What would ever give you that idea? I was merely defending myself. If I do recall correctly it was she who took the first swing."
The Headmistress was instantly incensed, pointing a finger at the brunette upon the cot she snarled, "Miss Granger, your idea of self defense is severely misguided!"
"As is your pandering to the ministry." Hermione spat, gesturing toward the glimmering phylactery crystal resting on the Headmistress' dress. "Aren't you tired of playing lap-dog to the Minister Professor? Or should I say, lap-cat? I see your collar is on nice and tight."
The elder witch recoiled as if she had just been slapped across the cheek. "Miss Granger!" McGonagall snapped. "Refraining from any further discussion of my legal status with the Ministry, I want to tell you that you must contact your parents. Not only do I wish to notify them of your atrocious manners and conduct, the Parkinsons are furious with what you've done to their daughter, and wish to confront you directly."
"For what purpose? What could possibly come from them yelling at me about their daughter's lack of physical strength and dexterity? It's not my fault she is the byproduct of poor breeding. Honestly Professor, this meeting is worthless as it won't change a thing."
"Just contact your parents. I'll have some parchment sent your way. At the present time you are facing at minimum three weeks detention, but for now you are to remain here until Poppy deems you fit to leave. Seeing as though you seem to have nary a scratch, that shouldn't be long." She started to make her way toward the exit doors before speaking over her shoulder, "Tell your parents to be here within two days, we shall provide a portkey for their usage. And now I bid you good night Miss Granger. May the quiet of the night provide you with enough solace to reflect upon your recent behavior." She left with a huff and shut the double doors behind her.
Hermione looked down at her hands; one was wrapped in gauze and mottled with black and blue. Blood and dirt were still under her fingernails. The realization fell heavily onto her shoulders. A wall has been put between herself and Fleur; a wall that she had unwittingly erected by her own actions. Weakness. Chivalry. Thickheadedness. Try as she might to choke down any emotions, a single tear ran down the slope of her cheek. She hastily wiped it away with her bandaged hand, wincing at the pressure of her shattered knuckles pressed against the flesh of her cheek.
She also felt the cold kiss of metal as she was suddenly reminded of the silver ring on one her intact fingers. Bellatrix. Grasping the ring tightly in her palm, she conjured the image of the dark witch in her mind. Warmth permeated the soft skin of her palm as the ring began to pulsate and she could begin to hear the ghostly whisper of her godmother's voice pervade her head.
Yes Hermione my dear…
Hermione brought her clenched fist to her lips and spoke gently to the ring. "Someone has hurt me Bella…I'm in need of your help…"
Who would dare!
"Pansy Parkinson. A rather puggish girl from Slytherin house, and a most repugnant creature."
Ahh the Parkinson family…I know of them. They are a blight upon our pureblood tree…a most dreadful group of people. Tell me where I can find this Pansy; I will run her through!
"Oh there is no need. She has already answered to my fists, and is now bedridden at St. Mungo's."
Good girl! Now tell me, my dear, what did she do to you to fight her?
"Insulted my beloved. I snapped. Beat her senseless. Pansy deserved it. All of it. If Harry hadn't interfered I might've killed her with my own two hands."
And the world indubitably would've been better off without her I'm sure. But speak quickly, I have much to do, and I am sure you did not contact me for mere idle chitchat.
"The Headmistress requires a parent to accompany me to an undoubtedly fruitless meeting with the Parkinsons…and seeing as you are my closest relative…"
Say no more. Anything for you my dear...anything.
Hermione had never cared much for potions as a class, but at the present moment she was eternally grateful for the skill as she walked through the halls of Hogwarts, hands clasped tightly with her Mother. Rounding a corner Hermione made sure to point out several things of interest, and her Mother responded with great intrigue and awe. They stopped to gaze a painting, standing mere feet from two robed Aurors. Her Mother winked and gave a coy wave to one of them, he could only blush and look away. Hermione playfully swatted her Mothers hand and directed the woman's attention to a large watercolor of a pastoral scene.
"Ahh I recognize this piece." Her mother cooed. "Rodolphus and Lucius would engage in rather explosive games of Wizarding Chess right under this painting." Hermione smiled at the thought. "Used to drive the nearby portraits mad whenever they would begin rather annoying fistfights after one would accuse the other of cheating. Always a spectacle. Resorting to a mere board game to assert whos nearly nonexistent masculinity was better…so pathetic."
They continued along, passing by the myriad of enchanted staircases, each changing their positions every few minutes. "Those stairs are quite a nuisance. Sometimes I felt they'd take it upon themselves to intentionally make the first years get lost…though…" Mrs. Granger said with a knowing look. "…they'd make for excellent defensive positions should this place ever be attacked."
Hermione hissed through the teeth of a forced smile, her eyes flitting toward the stoic Aurors standing a few feet away. "You might want to lower the pitch of your voice just a tad Bella…We wouldn't want McGonagall catching on now would we."
"Of course. That would be most unfortunate." A polyjuiced Bellatrix smiled wickedly from beneath her fleshy disguise. "To think it would be this easy to infiltrate this blasted place. Shame that Barty failed so miserably at it."
"You've already broken in here once before. Clearly you know what you're doing." Hermione mused with a smirk.
"Clearly." Bellatrix laughed. "If I weren't here alone I'd snatch the boy up in an instant…but alas I have familial obligations that need tending to."
The brown haired witch grinned. "I was hoping that you'd have some sort of solution to my dilemma. I've got detention for the next three weeks…I'd be damned if I was going to allow Pansy to be an obstacle to Fleur and I."
"How is Fleur doing? I do hope you'll let me meet her soon."
"She is alright…though the burden of the Ministry's restrictions weighs heavily upon her heart. Life could most certainly be better for her." Hermione sighed. "I fear as though things are only going to get worse from here."
"We can only hope the Dark Lord succeeds at what he has set out to do."
The smile disappeared from the young witch's face. "I care nothing of his grand plans, Bella. I just want to see my love be free."
They continued along in silence, before Bellatrix mused, "When I was back in Hogwarts I was a terror just like Miss Parkinson, though I was much more adept at avoiding trouble."
"Oh? What's that? Is that remorse I hear?"
Bellatrix brushed the young witch's teasing words aside. "Don't be preposterous, 'twas purely a reflection upon my more…formidable years…I regret nothing that I have done."
They had arrived at the transfiguration classroom and Hermione eyed the oak doors with trepidation. Facing Bellatrix she shrugged her shoulders. "Could get a little bloody in there don't you think?"
"Perhaps. Though the Parkinsons are not known for their skills of argument. Myself, however, have been gifted with a silver tongue and will not relent until you have been given an appropriate sentence for your act of self-defense.."
"And that's what I'm worried about. Promise me you'll stay in character…mother."
"Oh but of course!"
"I mean it! I don't want to see any stray Crucios!"
"Ugh! Must you take the fun out of everything?"
Bellatrix proved to be a natural at defending family honor though the meeting did not go smoothly. Hermione incited a firestorm of malcontent when she simply suggested to the Parkinsons that they needed to 'put a tighter muzzle on their little bitch'. Bellatrix, ever dedicated to her role as Mrs. Granger, made sure to scold Hermione over her language, but clearly was made giddy by the whole situation. Presiding as a moderator of sorts, Professor McGonagall was not at all pleased with the behavior of either party, but managed to get the Parkinsons to calm down for a moment and accept Hermione's clearly non-heartfelt apology. Bellatrix managed to haggle out a shorter sentence for Hermione, and was about to try and press her luck even further before she began to wince, her mouth twitching every few seconds or so. Her fist clenched and opened rapidly as well. Hermione knew this could only mean one thing: Bella was being summoned.
This did not go unnoticed to Professor McGonagall who spied Bellatrix with a concerned pair of bespectacled eyes. "Mrs. Granger? Is everything alright?"
"Yes, yes I suffer from tics you see. Sometimes I'll even get thrown into a fit…it's quite a nuisance…Are we quite finished? My dearest Hermione did apologize. I fail to see what else you could possibly want from her Mr. Parkinson, as it was your daughter you threw the first strike, and my child was merely defending herself."
Mr. Parkinson looked as if he were going to strangle Bellatrix. "Why you!"
Bellatrix was unaffected, and turned toward the young witch and tutted her with a finger to the nose. "Hermione, could you be a dear and see me on my way? Remember to be nice to your classmates and listen to your teachers! Eat your vegetables, wash behind your ears, go to class and do your homework!" The pair exited the room, leaving behind a stunned Headmistress and Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson.
They walked through the halls with a hurried pace and Bella's hand was clasped to her arm. Her head was held low, the brown curls of Mrs. Granger's hair concealing the skin of her face that was starting to ripple like water. "The potion is wearing off!" She hissed. "I have to get out of here. Hermione you need to go, get away from me now! If I am seen I can fend off the Aurors but I can't protect you at the same time!"
Hermione would not release her grip on the Death Eaters arm. "Will you make it out? Is the Dark Lord calling for you?" Her next question seemed to come out on its own accord. "Can I go with you?" Bellatrix could only scoff.
They traversed the vast expanse of the castle quickly, arriving at the great doors within a matter of minutes. Bella, her features nearly her own again, leaned in close to the brunette and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I am certain I will be well into the Forbidden forest before my disguise is compromised. Far from the prying eyes of those blasted Aurors. For now, you must continue your schooling, finish your sentence and behave." Hermione groaned loudly at this. "I mean it! No scampering off to see Fleur until your detention is over. We don't want you to further tarnish your relationship with the Headmistress. The Dark Lord does not wish to see you now, nor does he know that I am here with you. Tonight will probably be just another raid." Bella chuckled to herself. "A worthless one at that since the boy is here at this bloody school no less…" While the dark witch spoke Hermione simply stared off into space and Bella gave Hermione a knowing look before lightly rapping the girl on the head, and Hermione feigned a rather pathetic pout. The older witch was unaffected. "I am deathly serious Hermione! No sneaking out to see Fleur. You may owl her the news, but you must remain here." Another quick kiss and hug and Bella slipped through the great doors, and slowly disappeared across the great lawn.
The Owlery was a storm of commotion as Hermione crossed the creaking floor, deftly dodging the hailstorm of droppings that would rain down from the ceiling. Clutched tightly in her hand was a letter penned for Fleur describing all that had happened in the recent days. She could only begin to imagine the disdain Fleur would feel when she learned it would be nearly three weeks until Hermione could see her again. Sparing no details in the letter, Hermione described the brutal fistfight and Pansy's harsh words. Fleur was her beloved, and Hermione would be damned if anyone dared to bring harm to her, or even speak ill of her. Admittedly her behavior was rash, and it was deplorable, but she clung to the hope that perhaps Fleur would see the melee as an act of chivalry and forgive her.
After choosing a rather large tawny owl, she set the creature out to flight after feeding it extra treats; encouragement and a tip for ensuring speedy delivery. The animal happily ate it from her open palm, took the letter into one of its enormous claws and took flight into the cold bite of December air.
Walking back toward the dormitories, the many throngs of students she passed would part like the seas. She whistled a jolly tune to herself while strolling the halls. No longer was she regarded with ridicule and laughter, but now with abject fear. Not even the Slytherins would dare to cross her, or even speak to her. She relished the feeling.
News of Pansy's beating had spread like a wildfire throughout the school, earning Hermione a superfluity of interesting and absurd new rumors. Some said Pansy was dead; others claimed the beating was so savage that she had no recollection of who she was. The rumors were infectious, spreading like a festering disease from an open wound. Shattered like a forgotten relic was the bookworm image that Hermione had once worn so proudly; in its place was something entirely different, as she felt she had been born anew. Hermione grew to like the fear, for it afforded the peace and quiet she so desperately wanted in order to continue her training. Her suitemates would leave the instant she'd arrived in the dormitory for her nightly meditation; gathering their schoolbooks as soon as the brunette would assume a lotus position upon her bed. She was unsure about what in particular disturbed them so with her tranquil meditations, but she didn't really care either. By the time she had settled under her quilts for bed, Fleur would invade her dreams throughout the night, ravishing her and she would worship the Veela's body in kind. She would cry out in ecstasy and awaken dampened with sweat, and her roommates would still be sleeping soundly as they had taken to casting silencing charms each evening after a few rude awakenings in the weeks prior.
Ever the dedicated student, she heeded Bellatrix' words diligently, careful to keep in the Professor's good graces. As much as it tore at her, she scaled back her training regimen, only venturing out to her secluded thicket once all of her work had been adequately completed. Her yen to train was so strong; she found herself skipping meals in order to complete her work, to free up precious time to venture outside on the grounds. She would ignore her body's innate cries for food until her muscles would begin to fail from utter fatigue; her leg's trembling from hypoglycemia and malnourishment. Begrudgingly she'd force the food down her throat just to quell the pains of hunger and to fuel the protesting organs before going back to train some more. She began to resemble her namesake; she was gaunt, the veins of her arms and legs growing more pronounced, her ribs practically a xylophone concealed by the fabric of her clothes.
One afternoon while tucked away in her favorite secluded haven in the library, an interesting discovery buried deep within one the tomes she was currently studying piqued her curiosity, and she found that she wished to experiment.
Spells manifest as a physical beam of energy, passing from the tip of a wand toward its target. Such bursts of energy however are traceable, as Ministry Aurors easily hunted down many casters of dark magic. The opposite holds true as well, for dark witches and wizards could trace the magical energies of their foes and subdue them. Telekinetic spellcraft yields no such perceptible element, as the energy is manipulated in such a way that the spell itself is rendered invincible to the naked eye, and leaves no indication to others who the caster was. This was particularly vexing whenever one of the Unforgivable Curses was performed; the three of which lend themselves nicely to Telekinetic skill. Area-of-effect spells can prove to be particularly lethal as the caster need only to sequester themselves amongst a crowd to strike, and disappear as quickly as they had arrived. For a great many years Ministry Aurors were trained on how to ascertain if a telekinetic wizard was present, but such practices have since been abandoned, as the prevalence of this skill is now so rare.
Looking up from the pages, Hermione spied a gaggle of first years, clutching their books and parchment tightly to their chests. With a wicked smile she held the book aloft if to obscure her face from the group. …expelliarmus…
As if the students had inadvertently wandered into a windstorm, all of their carefully carried school supplies and wands erupted into a shower of paper as they all fell to the ground. One by one the young students looked to one another, completely bewildered to what had just happened. Hermione slammed the book down and frantically raced toward the group. Helping a few of them to their feet she said, "What happened? Is everyone all right? Anyone hurt?"
"No, I think we're all OK. Someone must've planted a joke bomb or something…must be those lousy Slytherins always trying to mess with us!"
Hermione held onto her improvisations of concern all while smiling broadly on the inside.
They had no idea.
Returning to her desk, completely pleased with her results, she reached into her school bag and retrieved Regulus' tattered journal. She had nearly forgotten the book in the days past, as her initial readings proved completely fruitless. Flipping to the page where she last left off, she spied the date written in the top left corner. 1974. Skimming through two of his terse entries she finally found what she was looking for: the first mention of Helen Gaunt.
5 October 1974
Quidditch match against Hufflepuff today, should be an easy win as everyone knows their seeker couldn't catch a snitch if it were the size of an elephant.
Cousin Cissy told me that Helen Gaunt, the girl that Uncle Cygnus has decided to take in, has been allowed to start Hogwarts as a 6th year, even though she has never been to school yet in her life! I only met her once this summer, seemed a nice enough sort, a little bookish despite not having gone to school. Apparently taught herself everything essential through sneaking out of the house to the library Cissy says her father abused her and he forbade Helen from attending Hogwarts. Dunno how Cygnus ended up with her, he's already got three girls of his own. Not looking forward to Christmas at their house this year.
"Helen lived with the Black family?" Hermione muttered aloud to herself. "Bellatrix never mentioned this at all." The rest of the entry was more anger toward the other houses and general teenage complaints about school. Hermione flipped through more pages until she spied Helen's name upon a page once more.
17 January 1975
Our Quidditch record could not get any worse! Another loss to Hufflepuff and those damn Gryffindors will laugh their way to the cup!
Helen has asked me to accompany her to one of Slughorn's gatherings this weekend. Would rather mouth kiss a basilisk than dine with that blowhard codger of a Professor (nearly failed me last term!) but I owe one to Helen for taking the fall at Auntie Druella's birthday party when I accidentally set fire to her favorite tapestry…
10 August 1976
Cousin Bellatrix' wedding was today. Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella had her married off to that wealthy git Rodolphus Lestrange. Completely insane the lot of them, the Lestranges. Rabastan is a wanker just like his brother. Them and Uncle Cygnus talk about Bellatrix as if she were a prize to be won. Sounded strangely like a business transaction as I overheard Uncle Cygnus ask for membership to a country club in Surrey that the Lestrange's hold influence over.
Bellatrix is being married into money too. Uncle Cygnus is a sucker for high society types like the Lestranges. This marriage is certainly an opportunity for the family, keeping the blood pure between us all is ideal. Cissy will likely wed that pretty boy Lucius Malfoy. Cissy told me she suspects Andy is dating a halfblood…or worse a mudblood. If any of our family finds out, she'd be cast out like Sirius was for sure.
Helen cried during the whole thing. Couldn't get the girl to bloody calm down. "Look at her. Bella doesn't love him! This wrong Reg and you know it!" I don't care, better to marry Bella off to a Lestrange than a half-blood…
22 April 1977
Helen confided in me that she has been offered money, or a grant as she calls it, to conduct research! Research! Bloody hell. Apparently her magic is vastly different from everyone else, she doesn't need to use a wand! Wrote one bloody essay about her own unique skills, handed it to Dumbledore, and is instantly courted by the Ministry's department of Magical Studies! I'm happy for her really, as she is one of my best friends in this world, but I can't deny that I'm jealous! Graduation is fast approaching and I still haven't the slightest what I'd like to do for a career.
Though my conversation with Rodolphus back at New Years still has me curious. A wizard, a very powerful one, is starting a pureblood movement, a way to purify our kind for good. They are part of a group, the Death Eaters. I don't know if Cousin Bellatrix is part of it, but Cissy's boyfriend Lucius mentioned it once in passing. Perhaps my purpose lies with them…
25 December 1978
Happy Christmas…though I wish it truly was that way. Been out of school nearly a year and Uncle Cygnus has proposed the crazy idea to my parents that Helen and I should marry! With Sirius gone the old coot believes the fate of our line lies with me! ME! We don't have much of a choice, and they date will likely be set for next year. My mother has already begun to have a portrait done of Helen as a wedding gift! I suppose it could be worse, could be stuck with someone like Alecto Carrow. Helen isn't a bad girl, smart as a whip, very, very beautiful and talented. Relative of Salazar Slytherin himself! Just the bloodline to be joined with the Blacks.
Though I see the way that Cousin Bella looks at her, and vice versa. I will have to talk to her about this at length.
I must speak to Helen. The family only wants an heir. Maybe we could make this work…for both our sakes.
15 January 1979
This is likely to be my last entry, as my fate has been sealed.
So much has happened in such a short amount of time I am unsure of what I should do now.
Helen told me she is pregnant. I am reminded of Sirius' joking words when he said to me so long ago, "It only takes one time." We tried to produce an heir, tried to save the Black family. We failed. She is having a girl. She will likely be cut-off by Uncle Cygnus soon, I can only hope that she has enough in her family's vault in Gringott's. Lord Voldemort will surely hear of this and want my head. I can't stay here; and I can't drag Helen into this mess. Her birthday is tonight, she is heading out to London with my cousins, I will make my leave tonight and hope that I can survive long enough to see the end of the Dark Lord's conquests…
Slowly, Hermione closed the leather book, her eyes gazing straight ahead at nothing in particular. She still knew so little of the mystery that was Helen Gaunt, though a single thought lingered on her brain. There was a vault. A Gaunt family vault. The family's wealth was squandered but money was not what Hermione hoped to find there. But she was unsure if the vault was even still in existence. Helen was the last of her family, and who knew if even Voldemort had access to it. Hermione felt as though she were walking through a dense fog; no matter which direction she would choose to turn, everything still looked and felt the same. Fleur, despite her work at Gringott's never once mentioned a Gaunt family vault, nor did Hermione believe she ever directly interacted with the vaults themselves. One thing was certain, she needed to get in there, and she wanted to get in there soon.
Two weeks had trudged by slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Hermione was restless, hardly getting any sleep as she tossed and turned upon her mattress. A stack of letters from Fleur sat on her nightstand, each one read hundreds of times over; the French woman's words of love being Hermione's few remaining comforts. Fleur was not happy about Hermione's scuffle, her words threatened a howler had she done something like that ever again. However, the French witch finally admitted, she was oddly flattered; Don't think that leaves you in the clear, as they say. I will have to punish you next time I see you. Hermione smirked as she could practically hear the words aloud in Fleur's melodious accent. Helen and Bellatrix' photograph now beset in a conjured silver frame sat proudly next to Fleur's Yule Ball picture on Hermione's nightstand.
My family.
It was a December evening when Hermione received a late letter from Fleur, dropped unceremoniously on her dinner plate in the great hall. Fleur's letters always arrived in the morning, and the surprise the delivery garnered the brunette several unwanted stares from her peers. Opening it as she did with all the rest, her stomach plummeted upon reading the simple words written on the parchment.
Help me.
A/N 2: Still with me? So the race is finally over and done with. Nearly a year of training culminated at Raceway Park in Englishtown NJ this past saturday. First off, thanks to all of you who sent well wishes, I needed them!
As for how I did, I completed the 12-Mile obstacle course in 1 Hour 50 Minutes. The median time predicted by race officials was 2 hours and 30 minutes. Now my time actually qualified me for the World's Toughest Mudder Competition to be held next year. However I was sadly disqualified as I nearly drowned twice in the first water obstacle of the race. The water was 40 degrees and my body (I'm pretty thin) could not withstand the sudden shock of cold. Sank like a rock once I dove in, and I struggled to reach the surface. Once I broke through I could not breathe, and my joints and limbs were nearly stiff. I had to be pulled from this obstacle twice, as I had reattempted it hoping that my body had perhaps acclimated to the cold. I was wrong. Later on in the race I successfully made it through the second water obstacle, despite having severe chest constriction from the icy water. Needless to say, I'm very upset, but at the same time I feel fortunate to be alive and happy to have had the opportunity to compete in such a great event. I am severely sore, taking ice baths and epsom salt baths, but it's a good sore. I certainly feel like I accomplished something great.
I already have plans to sign up for another Toughmudder race in Allentown PA in April 2011, and hopefully I can fully qualify for the 'championship'!