A note from Serade Black: Thank you to all of those that have reviewed and sent me messages to continue. I will and I am. Though I've discovered another fandom (those May/December relationships get me every time), this is my passion. This story will continue, along with another one I've already started. Enjoy! ~SB
Ch. 11 - "The Pain Sinks In"
All good things must come to an end, they say. Well, they obviously have never had their heart ripped through their chest, leaving an open gaping wound so deep you wonder if it will ever subside enough to heal. The kind of feeling that makes your mind fuzzy, wondering what went wrong in your choices to bring you to the mental pain it's feeling now. How the stomach churns, knowing that someday you will feel normal once again, but for right now, it's agony to feel so lost and empty.
This was Hermione. This was the brave girl who stood by Harry's side and faced death. This was the woman who ventured back to another time to bring the best out of someone, ultimately changing the timeline of their future forever. But, this was still the same broken person who felt like the sky had fallen on top of her, never allowing another breath of fresh air to fill her lungs and come to.
Sleep had taken Hermione for nearly three complete days. Mustering enough energy to use the bathroom or eat a cracker, slumber had called to her like a comforting old friend. She was emotionally drained and mentally lost; feeling the fresh wounds of a break-up surfacing again, the moment she opened her eyes and saw light peeking through the curtains. She sent owls out to the Ministry to excuse herself from work. She preferred to let time do the healing, because it was known that allowing said time to pass would make the brunt of life without Sirius come easier. Of course, as she lay in the bed they had shared, time couldn't come fast enough. Buried deep within dark soft sheets and an endless amount of pillows that hugged her every nook, his haunting scent still lingered around her as if he'd just left her for the day.
Several times she'd awoken in tears, believing that she had just missed him. She had the sinking feeling that he may have come back, but that she had slept through his return unknowingly. None of that had been true, for her imagination was playing cruel games with her sanity and it was barely enough to stay awake for and so she slept.
By the fourth day of allowing herself to feel a numbness that seemed to be the beginning of the proper healing process, Remus came round to look in on her. He was hoping to give her some space, but when he'd dropped in on her office at the Ministry and was informed of her absence, he insisted that a visit was in order.
He found the house quiet, settled and undisturbed. It was good that Hermione hadn't taken out her anger on their person effects they had shared together. Then again, Hermione was never the violent sort. He ventured up the stairs of the silent house; his footsteps creaking upon each stair he met. He found her tangled within the comforter and sheets of the large bed. The shades and curtains were drawn, creating a cave-like ambiance, hiding her away from the rest of the living world. Her hair was messy and he was sure she was still in the same pajamas she'd worn since the night she first hibernated.
He quietly sighed upon seeing the saddened state and turned on his proper "Professor" voice, "Depression is a cruel monster, Hermione." He walked towards the windows, pulling back the heavy curtains to wash the room with light. There mound on the mattress stirred and groaned its displeasure. "I forbid this to happen to you, my dear. Certainly not over a wizard and most definitely, not over Sirius."
Very slowly a hand reached out from beneath the bedcovers like the dead rising from beneath the earth of a fresh grave. With a slight sob, she whispered, "Remus, I loved him."
"I know you do," he replied as he leaned over and picked up some clothes off the floor and laid them on a nearby chair. "I know he loves you."
"Then, why-" she began, but was immediately cut off.
"That I cannot answer," he said quickly in his former Professor's voice, as if he was teaching a lesson. He wanted to say more for his heart broke at the sight of her, but there was nothing he could say at that moment to improve her thought process. So, he turned to a common ground, "But, for now, let us start with a cup of tea."
In the kitchen, the ticking of the clock reverberated off the walls like a hammer. So sensitive to sound as the realistic silence was blaring, it was as if she was able to actually hear time passing by. It only made her heart feel heavier as she sat at the breakfast nook by the window in the kitchen; meager sunlight her nemesis.
Sitting quietly, her hands were folded on the table before her, slowly drumming her fingers together. A balled up tissue lay in front of her, dampened by the occasional bought of tears. Her tea steamed in front of her, the spoon still twirling within the ceramic cup. Though the warm contents soothed her throat and filled her belly, she preferred to retreat to the confines of her dark plushy cave upstairs.
Remus sat across from her; his eyes never moving from his young friend. He was seething inside, but did not show it. He had just sat through the very brief tale of his best friend's dramatic ending to their relationship and sat stunned and bewildered, without any answers to offer.
"I don't know why," Remus said, shaking his head. "I do not know what got into his head."
"It's my fault. Because of me, he's gone away from you, Harry, the Order, everything," Hermione whispered with a guilty heart. She closed her eyes, letting a fresh stream of tears cascade down her cheek and drip to the wooden table before her.
"It's not your fault, so stop that now. Sometimes he does things I cannot explain. Sometimes he has a plan for good things in store."
She shook her head, "No, Remus. Nothing good can come of this, unless he comes back." Her insides remained empty, still knotting where she sat.
"It's hard to see it that way, right now, I know." Remus was nearly at a loss for words, but added, "I truly don't want to add to your sadness by saying anything overtly cliché'."
Hermione's lips turned into a slight smile, her brown eyes looked up, "I appreciate that."
Their silence was interrupted by light tapping against the window just off the kitchen. A gorgeous black owl waited patiently to be let in; a small scroll with a gold ribbon was tied to its leg.
Hermione stood up with a shot, practically pushing Remus out of the way as her eyes set on the owl that rested at her window. "It's from Sirius! It's from him!" She frantically fumbled with the window locks like a person under extreme duress, secretly believing that all the answers of his true departure would be in this letter. She reached for the letter, nearly yanking the bird's leg out of its socket, but with a quick nip, Hermione regained a bit of composure.
Remus watched it happen quickly: Hermione reaching with great haste for the letter, only to glance at it and watch her entire demeanor fall into an even further sadder state. He watched as her shoulders fell, her hands tense and new tears fall down her cheek. His eyes met hers as she looked up with an absolutely tortured pain behind them.
"It's for you," she managed to whisper out like it was her last breath on the brink of a thorough cry. She held out the letter weakly, waiting for Remus to come to her to get it as she crumbled to the cold unforgiving floor.
Remus stood from his chair and took the letter out of her dropped hand, as if taking it away from her might at least lighten the burden of the constant reminder that the love of her life was gone. A piece of him just wanted to put it in his lapel jacket, but he knew she wanted to at least watch him read his words in the hopes that something might have been said about Hermione.
"Please read it, Remus," she said quietly, her eyes drifting to the floor.
Feeling somewhat guilty, Remus removed the letter from his inside pocket and took his seat at the table, leaving Hermione to her thoughts there sitting on the floor. He untied the gold ribbon and opened the scroll. The letter wasn't long.
Moony,
You're probably well aware of my departure. I'm sorry I wasn't able to see you before I left, but it was somewhat sudden. Please know that in the past, I may have been selfish, but I will confess that this is probably the most selfless thing I've ever done. I imagine the pain I'm feeling can only be compared to one whose soul is being split and I am in agony.
I miss Hermione, but I love her enough to let her go. She deserves a chance and deserves a real life with someone more "like her". I wish it were only a few years like you and Tonks, but then again, I haven't been the lucky one lately.
Please watch over her while I'm away. I'll check in with you and the boy to know where I am, but please don't let her come after me. I need her to move on. I need her to be wonderful, but I need her to be happy.
Thank you for understanding,
Padfoot
P.S. Please tell Hermione, she is my everything.
Remus looked away from the parchment in his best friend's handwriting to the broken girl whose light had obviously gone out. He knew that telling her Sirius was thinking of her probably wouldn't have changed the situation. So, without a further word, he folded up the letter and tucked it into the pocket of his coat.
O0O0O0O0O
Her inner monologue seemed to drone on, reminding her of all the things she could have done differently, of all the things that could have been and mostly, all the things she could have changed about her way of thinking that might have kept him with her. It was her fault and with that, she sunk herself into her own private prison. But, prison was not always made of four walls, but sometimes of the mental capacity and because of that, everywhere she looked she thought she saw his face.
In a lighter note, part of her conscience believed he may have been watching over her. Maybe he wasn't as far away as she thought, but as she passed by a store window and glanced over her shoulder towards the shadow of a dark man, she knew that her mind was only playing jokes on her. She knew that the brunette man standing inside the crepe shop was not her Sirius, but an average muggle man that had black hair. He was everywhere, and nowhere. She knew that Sirius was true to his word and had traveled far from London, out of England perhaps, to stay away from her, for he did not want her to see him. Maybe someday, years from now, he will come back to England. Perhaps someday, when they were both much older and moved on with their lives, they could be civil together at holiday gatherings with Harry.
She was only fooling herself right now; those thoughts could not be considered. Not when the very thought of it was making her nauseous. The very idea of them in the long future without the other broke the remaining shattered pieces of her heart, keeping that empty feeling lurking within her. She felt out of balance, alone and frightened that even as an independent witch she couldn't help but want some sort of desired company.
The Leaky Cauldron came into view and Hermione shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her baby blue hoodie. She pulled the heavy wooden door hard and let herself in, paying very little attention to anyone that was enjoying a drink or lunch that afternoon. She wasn't in the mood for small talk, for she only had one mission at the moment.
Though she only had eyes for the back door of the pub, she managed a friendly wave from Tom the barkeep. Glancing to her right as she weaved around loose chairs from nearby tables, a man caught her peripheral sitting at a booth against the wall. Looking like all the many faces she mistook, she noticed he appeared to be in his late twenties and sipping on a glass of amber liquid. He wore a dark colored hat and his cloak was clasped tight around his shoulders. She met his eyes only for a second, but it was a second too long for her feet stopped in mid stride and her body froze. He reminded her of Sirius, but only in the color of his hair and pale face. He wasn't as handsome as Sirius, for to her, Sirius was just a beautiful being and this man held no comparison. She realized she had watched him for three seconds too long and if she wasn't going to offer a greeting, she needed to nudge herself away and go to the back alley door.
Her knees managed not to buckle and something within her moved her forward towards the door. She didn't look back, already fearful that she had probably sent the wrong signal to the stranger. Thinking nothing more of it, other than feeling like a complete nutter, she tapped the right bricks in the wall before her ad pushed on through to Diagon Alley.
Outside the tall tilting building of Gringotts, a short little goblin in an official uniform stood guard. With a face showing displeasure that he was forced to mingle with the wizards, he reached for the door as he watched Hermione approach the bank. Once inside, she kept her head low and her eyes on the floor tiles ahead of her. She joined the queue and waited behind a couple others that were waiting to deal with their accounts.
Though it was thrown out of proportion, she felt like all sets of eyes in the building were on her. She thought back on the moment with the stranger, but tried to overcome any further thinking regarding him. There was just something almost familiar about the stranger. One thing was certain: she knew he wasn't Sirius.
"Next?" the voice called down to the front of the queue again from behind bars of metal and marble. He apparently had said it at least three times now.
Hermione shook her head, trying to shake her mind of playing any more tricks on her. Her sanity depended on it and though she might have thought herself to be going insane, it was just the sheer delusions caused by a break-up. The sickening feeling started to resurface.
"Hello, I'd like a withdrawal of fifty galleons please and a balance," she said in a feeble voice, trying not to look around and get her mind in trouble.
The goblin nodded and took her account card. He withdrew the requested amount, sliding the money through the little portal between them, as well as a piece of parchment that he wrote some numbers down on it. Hermione took the money and slid it into her bag. She went to turn away, when her eyes slid down the paper to the rather large, larger than normal, balance that she apparently had in her account.
Before the goblin had a chance to call the next person in the queue over, she returned to the goblin and knocked on the counter to get his attention, "I'm sorry, please double check this again. There must be some error on the account."
"Number two twenty-four? Granger?" the goblin repeated, taking out his wand and dividing left over coins away next to him. He appeared rather bored and irritated by her second guessing.
"Yes, sir," she nodded, sliding the paper back to him so that he could write the new balance down. "Please, I'm just trying to be honest, but my account wasn't that high a month ago and I know I haven't received any bonuses at the Ministry."
"There was a rather large deposit made into the account about two weeks ago. Sirius Black transferred half a million galleons from his account, into yours."
"What? No! Can it be transferred back, that's not my money, that's his!" Hermione insisted, tapping her hand nervously on the counter. Panic spread over her face like a mask, not wanting him to take such measures.
"He instructed us not to should any of his transfers be questioned. He was adamant about keeping his account locked only to him to avoid such requests. By the looks of Mr. Black's account, Miss Granger, it appears that making the transfer back, even if we could, would be such a small amount I doubt he'd even notice." The goblin glanced down at Hermione after checking his records, waiting for her to leave his window. Too many questions made him uneasy.
"But, that's...that's...oh, that's not fair! Really, there is no way I can give it back?"
"Not unless you give it to him in person."
"Well, that's not going to happen," she grumbled, taking her parchment back and crinkling it up in her hand while shoving it into her bag.
"Then, I bid you good day, Miss Granger." The goblin was quick to shoo her away, ready to move on with the next person in queue.
Hermione felt the butterflies in her stomach begin to unsettle again. They flew within wildly, unrestrained and unknowing and pretty soon, she was glancing around her to look for a ladies' room of some nature.
Damn you, Sirius. I can take are of myself.
She made it to the loo with barely seconds to spare before her nerves finally let go. She gripped the sides of the toilet as her knees knelt down on the cold marble beneath her. She felt dizzy and light headed, wondering if she would ever feel right again. Her heart had been crushed, torn and there she was allowing a normal break-up to get the better of her physically. Enough so, she believed another wave was about to wash over and she remained in the women's loo for another fifteen minutes before the nausea subsided.
The day was overcast and anything but cheery. When she stepped back out onto the sidewalk of Diagon Alley, witches and wizards were running about doing their normal shopping and just watching them made her feel a bit shaky. She headed towards a small cafe, hoping to get a tea and perhaps something sweet in order to settle her.
A little bell chimed when she stepped inside the old shop. It was well decorated in turn of the century decor, complete with old fashioned ice cream machine (surely charmed to work and never repaired). She walked up to the counter, taking no notice to who was around her and ordered her tea and scone. She paid for it, taking out a few knuts from her hand bag; her fingers brushing passed the piece of paper with the written balance on it. She bit her lip as her eyes began to water over the idea that he had left her with so much money, making her feel weak and cast aside, even bought off.
Hermione was quick to leave the little shop and turned around to push open the door with her shoulder. While spinning around, she gently bumped into someone that obviously wasn't paying attention to where they were going, either.
She stopped abruptly, saving her scone and not spilling her tea on the person she had accosted, "I'm so sorry."
The stranger caught himself before their bump together was harder than it could have been. He apologized as well, bracing the door so as not to get hit again. "My fault, truly."
"Nonsense-" she said, meeting his face and freezing immediately. She was looking into the eyes of the stranger she'd seen in the pub who was sipping a drink in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't look as threatening in the daylight compared to when he was beneath the shadows. Still, there was something strangely familiar about him when she saw him up close. Realizing she had stared at him for too long without saying anything, she shook herself back awake, "Sorry, I should have looked where I was going."
The man was somewhat handsome when not hidden by the shadows and his face no longer looked as menacing. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, normal build, black wavy hair and green eyes. Her heart skipped a single beat that he reminded her a bit of Sirius, but without the kind face and wide open smile. This man appeared to hold his guard a bit more, but softened once he believed he had hurt her when he walked into her. He looked around them nervously, aware that they weren't taking up too much space on the side walk during their encounter.
"If you'll excuse me," Hermione said, nodding and continuing her path along the sidewalk. The stranger stayed behind, taking the hint and entered the little coffee shop that she had vacated.
The simplest task of just walking through her own door took all the energy she could muster. As she entered the foyer, the constant ticking from the old clock was a dull reminder that she was now the only occupant of the house.
No more late night dancing in the sitting room, no more wine and strawberries while perched on the counter tops, no more lemonade on the back deck overlooking the verandah while a handsome shirtless wizard tinkered about on his motorbike. Things were changing, not evolving, and it was a frightening transition that Hermione was not prepared for. She wanted to go out and join her friends, but too many times there were reminders of Sirius no longer being there. Just seeing Harry and the sad look in his eyes, wondering if he'd had any correspondence with him and if he was keeping it a secret. Seeing Ron and the way he brooded about was his silent way of saying, "I told you so".
Remus, however, was the most considerate of the crew, constantly asking her about work or about plans she had for the house. His conversations hardly ever came around to Sirius, treading carefully on what he said. A few times, he had come across Hermione on the brink of tears, whereas there he approached her like a timid animal, sitting with her and scooping her up in his arms and allowing her to vent or just cry.
Her free days from work were spent napping all day in her curtain-drawn cave of a bedroom that currently had neglected laundry piling up in a corner. She figured that this fresh into the break, any time spent alone and awake was better spent asleep and ignored. It was evident and a proven fact that time healed all wounds, it was just a matter of getting to that point quicker to make the pain subside a little.
One overcast Saturday afternoon, Hermione was leaving Grimmauld Place after having lunch with Remus. His company was always comforting and welcomed and after feeling a little under the weather lately, she needed to be around friends.
She was a few blocks away from the hidden number twelve and just turning the corner to head to the muggle train station to take the tube back to her own neighborhood. Across the narrow street, she noticed a man walking in the opposite direction and sliding his hands into his pockets, keeping his head low as if he didn't wish to stand out. His wavy black hair covered his face, but as he glanced up to verify his direction, she recognized him as the man from Diagon Alley.
He glanced up again to watch where he was walking, before glancing across the street to see the other person near him. The two shared a gaze and then a polite wave, acknowledging the other. It was strange that Hermione would see the same stranger twice in one week, it was almost suspicious, but that was just her acute sense of wonderment that everyone was a Death Eater. Trying to be a better person and leaving that part of her in the past, she stopped and looked both ways for traffic, before crossing the street to greet him and get on the same side as the train station.
"Hello again," he said, his face was warm and friendly this time. He wore a dark blue fitted sweater, jeans and Chuck Taylor shoes.
"Ah, hi," she said as she furrowed her brow. She raised an eyebrow in query, "Do you live around here?"
"I had some friends that lived along this street years ago. You could say I was just out for a nostalgic walk. You?"
"Friends live around the corner. I did too for a little while," she said, tilting her head. "Well, I'll let you be on your way. Nice seeing you." She nodded and pushed passed him, not wanting to dally any longer. She took a few steps away when she heard him calling out to her.
"My name's Aiden," he said, trying to hold her a few more extra minutes.
She spun around, intrigued by the sound of his voice. Its pitch was comforting, familiar even. She replied, "Hermione."
Neither one stepped closer to shake hands, but instead continued on their way. Aiden waved as he took a few steps backwards, smiling as he watched her turning around and carry on towards the tube station.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
A week went by and Hermione was forced to return to work. She had used all her sick days and at least two of her personal days to stay home and re-cooperate. Of course, the amount of money that was left in her bank account would have sustained her for quite sometime that she didn't have to work, but insisted on setting that money aside and only using it should she ever need to. His assistance was not something she cared to take, if it wasn't attached with him.
I miss you, Sirius.
She found herself working longer hours. Not by force, but by choice, for each night that followed was another lonely return to the big house that she and Sirius rebuilt together. The color of the walls in the sitting room was his choice and the arrangement of glasses in the cupboards was of his order. Her pretty "catalogue ready" dining room and the library of her dreams meant nothing if she had no one to share it with. Still, she promised herself to carry on with the little unfinished projects that she had planned, desiring a sense of closure, at least with the house.
One late afternoon, near the average witch's quitting time, an owl soared into her office and perched herself on a stack of books. She hooted loudly and stuck out her thin leg while ruffling wings eager for a treat. Hermione obliged the bird and unrolled the parchment that was tied to her outstretched leg.
Hermione,
Going to the Leaky and we're hoping you join us. We're beginning to forget what you look like!
~Harry
Hermione shook her head and rolled the note back up. It had been quite a bit since she'd seen her friends and lately their schedules had not been able to connect. She scribbled a quick reply on a small piece of paper and sent the owl to return to its writer. It would do her good to go out.
The Leaky Cauldron seemed to have a lot of foot traffic in its direction along the wet sidewalk outside. Mostly it was a random muggle walking past, looking twice to see if he had just seen someone go into the abandoned building with several signs saying "Condemned" on the outside. Hermione was another that kept her head down and didn't meet anyone's eyes as she walked. She came to the door, took a quick look around and then pushed inside where the volume of patrons multiplied.
It was dark and smoky with a few lit candles on smaller tables, as mismatched lanterns sat upon the rest of the larger tables scattered around the pub. The bar itself had several leaners talking to Tom and she slipped in unnoticed, scanning the room for familiar faces. It appeared that she was to be the first one to arrive, so regrettably, she found an empty stool and ordered herself a whisky on the rocks. It's what he would have ordered.
As Hermione unwrapped her scarf, leaving it open to let her neck breathe, she paid no attention to the dark eyes watching her from across the pub. He was hidden, again, by the shadows and waited until she was settled in on her stool before approaching her. He counted his moments carefully, making sure not to unsettle her. She appeared relaxed and patient, the perfect time for him to slowly move in and make her notice him first.
Aiden flipped his wavy dark bangs out of his face and finished the last few drops of the butter beer left behind from the residue in his mug. He left his seat and sauntered to the open gap at the bar, hoping she'd look in his direction first. He looked away, pretending to not be scouting out the room and leaned forward on his elbows against the counter, nodding to Tom as he came over to greet him.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder when she heard the bells of the front door jingle, announcing a new arrival. A witch and wizard wearing blue robes came inside, greeted another couple across the room and immediately vacated the doorway to sit with them. Her eyes roamed around the room again, taking in the dusty decor and making a mental note to dust her own candlesticks on her mantle. She glanced to the wizard seated next to her and saw that he was having a severe battle with his sobriety, opening and closing his eyes to focus on the beer before him. Next to him was an obviously desperate witch with low cut robes and a long cigarette holder between her fingers as she blew smoke rings into the air. Then lastly she saw the wizard that was smiling and laughing with Tom the bartender and recognized him as Aiden; her stranger from down the road. He was looking quite put together in a long sleeved poet shirt and fine waistcoat in an off color.
Quickly looking away, not wanting him to catch her glancing in his direction, she hesitated to say something. However, she felt that speaking to someone you've already met, albeit just met, versus the wizard that was presently leering over at her with his good eye was probably the best protection she was going to get until her friends arrived.
Once she saw he was about to leave the bar with a new frothing butter beer, she called his name over the two people between them. He stopped as he heard his name and looked around for a familiar person who called it. A swift glance to his right and he offered a sincere smile and walked over to her.
"This is getting rather odd, wouldn't you say?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.
He played it off that he had not been watching her from the second she stepped into the pub, "What? That you're stalking me? Hermione, right?"
"Yes, its Hermione, but I'm far from stalking you. You were in my neighborhood, remember?"
He nodded, sipping from his butter beer, but cautious not to leave a foamy mustache over his upper lip. "So, I was. And what brings a lonely girl like you, to a rowdy pub like this?" There was a hint of charm in his voice, like he was attempting his best fake pick up line.
Hearing the slight sarcasm, she smirked, "I am not lonely. I'm meeting friends here and they should be here any minute."
"Ah, that's what all the single witches say," he teased and flashed a wicked smile. He flicked his long black locks out of his eyes and for a minute, Hermione's heart fluttered at the gesture.
Like having the air knocked out of our lungs, Hermione immediately found that breathing had become a challenge. Her heart beat madly, wishing to everything that she hadn't tried to see something that wasn't there. Her throat began to dry up and even with drinking the entire contents of her mug, her thirst still wouldn't have been quenched.
It's just the black hair!
The small little voice within was desperately trying to convince her that Sirius was still with her in some capacity, but he wasn't...he was gone. He had left her. He had walked out of their life together, leaving her a broken awful mess with her heart smashed into pieces. She still clung to anything that reminded her of him, like Aiden: the black hair, the shape of his eyes, his physique, his smile... it was all trying too hard to be something that wasn't. He was not her Sirius, he was not her love. Sirius was not home waiting for her arrival, so they could go about painting a room another color, undecided by the last three shades.
His absence left an open cavity in her chest that prevented her to move on at the present time. Her skin felt cold and bare, like her favorite blanket that covered her through life had been taken away and hidden. She felt exposed and unsafe. Her knight on iron horseback was no longer standing by her side, reminding her with a soft caress of his finger along the back of her neck that he was pleased she was nearby and that she had returned to him, after all these years.
Her stomach started to turn, her chest felt heavy and the pub never felt so small and confined before in her life. She needed out, she needed to leave. "Excuse me, Aiden. I've got to go," she said, quickly hopping down from her bar stool. Her head was fuzzy; she didn't know how to continue with the conversation as a normal woman. "I'm sorry."
Her name was heard as she picked up her handbag and tied her scarf back around her neck. Dashing out like she'd heard her house was on fire, she practically threw herself up against the pub's heavy door. Once on the sidewalk, she lost all that had been pulled together to compose herself in public, but like a dam sprung a leak, tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Grabbing the ends of her scarf, she dabbed her cheeks try, not wanting to feel the chill against her skin as she walked against the wind, anxious to find a safe place to Apparate home.
Unseen and walking towards her, Harry was leading Ginny and Ron towards the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Once he saw his friend quickly walking in their direction, he called out, "Hermione! You really came-"
"I'm sorry, I'm not ready for this, yet," she murmured as she walked passed them without a second glance over her shoulder. Ron heard the familiar sounds of her sobs.
Harry spun around crestfallen, "Hermione, come on!" His voice was sincere, but the shake of his friend's wild brown mane was clear indication of her refusal.
Understanding the signs of a woman not ready to move on, Ginny hugged her fiancé's arm and pulled her brother along with her, "Leave her be, boys. It's obviously that it's still too painful for her to come out. It's still too fresh."
The two men stood still next to the red head, silently taking the command like well behaved dogs. As they watched Hermione bow her head, hunch her shoulders to keep her sweater closed and walk briskly up the sidewalk, they wished there was something they could do to comfort her, but respected her need to be alone.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
The journey home took so much longer when you were trying your hardest to hide tears and avoid looking anything that would immediately tear you apart into a fit of sobs. Hermione charged at her own front door like a battering ram as she fumbled with the lock and her key. Once through, she slammed the door behind her, blocking out the world and allowing herself the inevitable release of tears, wails and cries. Her keys fell to the floor with a loud clank against the hardwood floors and her body fell against the front door beaten and exhausted. She slid to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her head.
Sobbing to free herself from emotional chains, an empty hole in her stomach began to surface, feeling more incomplete than she had in weeks. Just when she believed the healing process was beginning, she would fall a few steps behind and see something reminding her of him. She hadn't the strength to dismiss him all together and throw away his clothes, his belongings or his favorite books, for she still believed that having those nearby, kept him somehow connected to her.
A wave of nausea began to surface and she quickly got to her feet just in time to make it to the toilet. She felt weak and angry, she felt like the bottom had finally fallen out and just when she was trying to hold a normal conversation with another wizard out of her circle of friends, she panicked and ran for it. It meant nothing, she thought, for the new acquaintance was merely making small chit chat. Still, the way he grinned resembled her Sirius.
Her Sirius. Where ever he may be.
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Another week went by and Hermione was drowning herself in her work. It was very easy to do that. There were constant check-ins with several that were pulled from the Veil and there was also a list of those that just fell off the radar. It was like they wanted no assistance, no help from the Ministry and no medical attention for some of the affects of returning to a different time. Those that were gone longer than five years needed serious attention to the readjustment program. She even had to add Sirius to the list of those that had gone "AWOL". It pained her to even scribble his name and render it so unattached. Isa, her colleague, watched her carefully, looking in on her and making sure she stopped to eat once in awhile, but more than anything, she watched the spark in Hermione starting to fade.
On a forced day off, a Thursday, because Hermione had worked a full fourteen days straight, there were big plans to sleep in late. When she got bored with sleeping, there was a strong possibility that she would pull out an old book that she favored and get lost into a fairy tale land. Of course, none of these plans came to fruition as by the hour of nine; a fiery red head came bursting in with a mission.
Ginny had used the unlocking charm to Hermione's house, just in the event of a dire emergency. By the way the lithe ginger sounded like a herd of elephants stomping up the staircase, it was evident that she deemed this a state of emergency. Hermione could hear her name being chanted like a ritual, surely to alert her that she wasn't in any sort of actual danger, other than a Weasley woman. The door was opened, the curtains were drawn and light flooded the room like the headlights to an old Chevy.
"I don't care what you say, Hermione Granger, you're getting your arse up," Ginny insisted while pulling off the comforter from her cocooned friend. Her outline was easily made out by the layers of blankets hugging her form. "I'm tired of you sleeping in, I'm tired of you getting all depressed over a wizard and I'm only slightly insulted that you weren't even half heartbroken over my own brother. But, that's neither here nor there."
Hermione reached for the closest pillow to hide her face from the intruding sun and whined, "Ginny, this really isn't necessary." Her mumbles were nearly muffled from the pillow she buried her face into.
Ginny took her wand out of her back pocket and aimed it towards the bathroom and she started to draw a bath. "It's all necessary, Hermione. Now, you have your choice: you can get up and take a bath on your own, or I can force you into it, complete with magical sponges that would probably exfoliate your skin off. Your choice." Hermione mumbled an off color remark and before she could burrow herself further into the bed, now without sheets, she was lifted off of it and tossed onto the floor with a painful thud like a sack of potatoes. Ginny snickered, amused by her tactics, and said, "That was your first warning."
Hermione rolled over on her back, feeling utterly defeated and unwilling to battle her friend, so as she looked up at the ceiling, the ceiling she used to watch the shadows dance on while Sirius was fast asleep dreaming, she asked, "What is it you intend on doing with me?"
"Well, aside from making sure you don't spend the next three days off brooding, sleeping and feeling sorry for yourself, I'm going to take you to the alchemist and see if he can do anything to help lift your spirits," she said, matter of factly.
Hermione lifted herself on her elbows and eyed her friend, "You're taking me to get drugs?"
"No, I'm taking you to get herbs, or something that would help soothe you. You're sleeping way too much, you're more emotional than a pack of teenagers and I just think you should see the Healer and go from there," Ginny explained, crossing her arms in front of her, looking so much like Mrs. Weasley. "You do not want to deal with this and quite frankly, you would do better for yourself if you weren't so wound up with the idea of Sirius, right now. In time, you'll heal, but until then...you need a little pick me up." Hermione rolled her eyes and with a few more pokes and prods, she was up on her own and moved sluggishly to the bathroom to bathe herself without the help of aggressive sponges.
After a lunch at a muggle chip shop, the pair went to Diagon Alley where Hermione could inquire on something that would assist her mood. Much like searching for a Love spell, Hermione was in search of something that would do the opposite. Something that would help heal the break-up faster, something that would take Sirius out of her mind and something that would ease the pain to a more tolerable level.
They entered the little shop at the end of the road, passed all the specialty shops that were so well visited, to the alchemist that was both a healer and a provider of herbs and oils. The shop was small, quaint, and not mainstream wizard commercial like so many other Apothecary shops in Diagon Alley. This was owned by the same family, even the same old woman, for nearly two hundred years. She had passed on the business to her own children, but she still bothered with most of the blending on her own with little shop help.
As they entered the small shop, it was poorly lit, mostly due to the placement between the taller buildings and had an eerie green mist that hung in the air. Racks of oils divided into ailments were aligned against the wall, ranging from terminally ill diseases to the average headache. Beyond that were several odd plant leaves that varied in the same fashion, displayed on racks that indicated their potency by ribbon binding.
"Ah, Miss Weasley, it's good to see you," the old woman with bi-focals said from behind a counter that looked more like Professor Snape's working table. It had a small cauldron brewing something that bubbled and gave off a purple smoke, while next to it there was a root that in the process of being cut up into smaller bits. "How goes the wedding planning?"
"It's coming along, Madam Rochone. Thank you!" Ginny said eagerly, not intimidated by the woman who otherwise would scare small children by the looks of her dwelling, but it was evident she was as harmless as an old fashioned granny with a knack for chemistry.
"And your friend is not well, I see," Madam Rochone said, flourishing a finger in timid Hermione's direction. Her lips pouted and her brow furrowed in worry as she looked Hermione over.
"No, she's not. She's a bit heartbroken and needs something to help her get through-"
"-some of the painful parts," Madam Rochone finished for Ginny. Her eyes were following every move Hermione made, studying every lip bite and memorized every eyelash flutter. She was reading Hermione. "I see. She's Sirius Black's love, is she not?" Hermione's eyes got bigger, but then her face fell, absolutely crushed that she carried a label and such a painful one at that. "Yes, I read about her. He's left, has he?"
Hermione sighed, closing her eyes to seal the pain and just nodding her answer.
"Would you mind waiting outside, Miss Weasley? I'd like to speak to your young friend privately, if that is alright?" Madam Rochone said, her eyes never leaving the brunette.
"Yes, sure. Hermione, I'll go get us a couple of hot teas," Ginny said and reached over to squeeze her friend's hand, before going out the door. The little chime of the bell hanging over the doorway indicated her departure.
Hermione slowly lifted her eyes to the old woman, carrying a nervous burden that she wasn't sure was going to allow her to communicate without the presence of her friend close by. But, as she met the stare of the senior alchemist, she felt a calming sensation fill her body, like a soothing warm blanket was meeting her nerves and she felt the tension in her muscles slowly loosen. The old woman came around the counter/work table to better see Hermione, along with placing her hands gently over her upper arms in a reassuring way.
"Your heart feels heavy child? Like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, but it is really your feelings of being let down and abandoned taking over." The woman looked down at Hermione in a mothering way, but clerical at the same time. "The man loves you deeply, with ever fiber of his being...I know, because he told me." Hermione's eyes shot up immediately, searching the woman's face for a clue, an inkling of his whereabouts, desperately hoping that she would give the answer to his departure. "He came here looking for the same release you seek, something to heal a heart broken, but I see now it was his doing that did the breaking."
"Is he here? Is he close? Is he coming back to me?" Hermione blurted out anxiously, pleading with this woman to give her what she wanted to know.
"No," she said simply and dropped her arms from her shoulders and walked around her work table. Hermione, once again, immediately fell broken and exhausted. "But, I sense that he did not leave you entirely. A piece of him remains with you."
Hermione nodded, humoring the woman and everything else everyone had said to her, "Yes, yes, in my heart. Those that love us, never truly leave us. Yes, I've heard all of this before."
The old woman perched herself on the stool that was behind her table and watched Hermione with a keen eye and slight smirk, believing the girl to be a "know-it-all" sort. Still, she did not humor the girl the way she was humoring her and instead, reached her hand to Hermione's face. Hermione glanced up, tilting her head back away from the hand, as if it would bite.
"Allow me to cut a lock of your hair," Madam Rochone said and lifted a pair of scissors with her other hand.
Hermione held her hair back with one hand, "Why would you want that?"
"An ingredient to help sooth your mind child, please," she gestures long slender fingers again and with little convincing, Hermione tilted her head and allowed the woman to take a small lock from the bottom. As she worked, her eyes met Hermione's as each additional ingredient to the cauldron changed the color of smoke. "Your love is genuine and old. I can see that the two of you go back even further than what you tell your family," the woman said, dipping a small spoon into the caldron and dishing out a portion of it into a vial. Hairs were added and it changed color and consistency before their eyes. The woman slowly smiled and looked at Hermione with sincerity and hope, "It appears that he does remain with you, Miss Granger."
Ginny waited outside, pacing from one foot to the other, holding two cups of steaming hot tea. One for her was flavored a special brew, whereas Hermione was much more boring and bland when it came to her tea. Hermione came out of the little old shop and met her friend with and quietly took her tea with the hand that wasn't holding a small paper bag with the enchanted logo on the side.
"So, did she give you some of the good stuff to calm your nerves? I know she is kind of spooky, but she's actually really very good," Ginny said, walking along her friend that seemed to be sipping her tea very carefully. Hermione remained transfixed on walking steady and balancing her tea as if her life depended on it, with absolutely no sudden movements.
"Ah, yes," Hermione said quickly, turning her head as if she had just heard fingers snap her awake. She gave a light chuckle, "Said that it's very normal and gave me something to calm my nerves and help with dealing with the break-up. But yes, she is good."
"Well, that's good to hear. Maybe now you can start getting back to the old Hermione. I know my brother will be glad to have you back, he really misses you. He's finally stopped talking about how he wants to skin Sirius, but feeling guilty about it, because he's still Harry's godfather."
Hermione nodded lightly, watching each crack in the sidewalk, each line end to the street and every stone that was left lying alone. The sounds around her started to drown out and she could no longer hear the clicks of their heels on the cobblestone sidewalk. Ginny bid her good-bye as they parted at a crosswalk and with a friendly hug, spun around and left Hermione alone to her thoughts.
She continued on, clutching the bag tightly between her fingers. Her mind was scattered, yet focused. Her choice was made, but conflicted. Her heart broke, but she was determined. She missed Sirius terribly, there was no denying that.
As she neared her destination, the fence to her house began its long intimidating journey. Branches from the overgrown trees hung low over the iron spires and as she approached the entrance, the gate opened on its own, sensing the energy of the owner. She took out her keys and unlocked the front door of her house where her footsteps sounded hollow and lonely. With lead feet, she trudged down the hallway and into the kitchen, her small bag in hand.
Hermione stopped at the counter and laid her hands on the cold tile surface and spread her fingers to get a better grip. She remembered sitting on top of it; her partner between her legs and beginning to love her like a woman. She recalled the gestures of passion and love that followed after and she remembered the first time that she and Sirius had said 'I love you' while standing in that kitchen as a newborn couple with their history behind them. It was in that very same kitchen that she felt a twinge in her stomach; that aching pain that emptied at the very thought of him. She began to feel that unsettling warmth that welled up in her eyes that followed through with a quiet stream of silent tears for the man she missed so dearly.
Subconsciously, her arms wrapped around her for protection. Her sensitivity was heightened as the touch of the fabric under fingers felt soft and comforting over her abdomen. She doubled over in mental pain as her palms went flat over her stomach. She knelt to the floor, her back leaning against the kitchen cabinets, until she was sitting balled up like a child with her knees pulled to her chest and her head down. Quiet sobs echoed through the kitchen, loneliness her only friend, and as she replayed the words in her head spoken by the Healer, there was no denying it.
Hermione was pregnant.