Hermione sat in her bed with wide brown eyes, staring at the cracked ceiling. She had memorized the pattern of the chipped paint at least twenty times in the last hour. Hermione closed her eyes for a minute, then flashed then back open. She couldn't get comfortable, let alone sleep. She turned over to see Ron in the bed next to her. He was more restless that usual, she had noticed, for he was constantly twisting, turning, and contorting on his mattress. Hermione crawled out of her bed and crept over to Ron's. She sat on the side of the bed beside Ron, pushing his bright ginger colored bangs from his forehead.
"Ron," she whispered, nudging his arm lightly.
Ron jerked awake. Looking at Hermione, confused, he asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"
He sat up and caressed Hermione's arms as she looked down at her lap. She didn't say a word, she just fell into Ron's bed next to him. Ron wrapped his arms around her tightly and pulled her close to him. He burrowed his head into Hermione's neck and hair. Hermione began to weep in his arms, but neither said a word. Ron only pulled her into his chest tighter and kissed her from her shoulder to her neck. Ron almost broke down in tears from Hermione crying, as he almost did when he watched as Bellatrix had tortured Hermione before The Battle of Hogwarts. Ron hated hearing Hermione cry; he couldn't stand it. Her misery was nails on a chalkboard for Ron, for all he wanted was to make her happy. Soon, Hermione's cries turned into subtle whimpers as she was comforted in Ron's arms. Ron moved his head slowly to kiss Hermione's neck. He laid two soft kisses upon his skin before they both fell into a peaceful sleep wrapped in each other's arms.
Ron awoke the next morning to see that the spot where Hermione had fallen asleep next to him last night was empty. He sat up in his bed and looked around the room for Hermione, but she was no where to be found. There was a clattering from in the kitchen that caused Ron to jerk his head towards the door. He jumped out of his bed and clamored down four flights of winding stairs. He entered the kitchen to see his mum, Hermione, and Ginny making breakfast. Hermione whipped her reddish golden brown locks over her shoulder as she hovered above a hot pan. Ron walked up behind her and wrapped one arm around her waist. Hermione looked up over her shoulder, smiling at Ron greatly. Ron lightly kissed her cheek, which launched Hermione into a fit of soft laughter. Neither Ron nor Hermione had been one to fancy displaying and professing their affection for each other, but at this point, they didn't care. The pair were far too enthralled with each other to not show it.
Ron helped Hermione and the girls prepare the table for breakfast. Ron, of course, sat next to Hermione, as close to her bare arm as he could get. Hermione's cheeks could not stop blushing a fiery shade of plum whilst Ron's ears blasted a deep shade of red. Ron began to eat as much as he could, as fast as he could. Hermione glared over at him as he ate grotesquely, but she soon began to laugh as she always ended up doing.
"Do you ever stop eating?" Hermione asked, playfully.
Ron looked up at Hermione with his his usual look of confusion. With a mouth full of food, he answered, "I'm hungry."
Hermione threw her head down and laughed quietly, brushing up against Ron's arm. Ron swallowed his food and laughed with her. They both looked over at each other, falling silent for a moment. However, they soon broke out in chortles and giggles once again. The pair continued to laugh and talk through their breakfast as the rest of the table laughed, ate, and talked with each other. Hermione and Ron joined in every now and then, but were mainly concentrated on each other. Once everyone had finished eating, Ron helped Hermione clear the table and wash the dishes. The two spent the time smiling at each other in silence for a long while before Ron finally spoke up.
"You know," he said, swallowing hard, "you mumble in your sleep."
"Oh," Hermione said, lifting her head to look precariously at Ron for a second before dropping it to continue washing her plate. "And what do I say?"
Ron swallowed again and looked at Hermione cautiously. He instantly regretted bringing that up. Ron placed the plate he was drying on the counter and gripped his hands around the edge of the sink. Ron knew that the moment he answered Hermione, that she would remember the last time she saw them, the time that she uttered 'Obliviate,' and everything changed. Ron looked at the reflection that was cast of Hermione in the window in front of them. A streak of light hit her perfectly, bringing out all of her right angles, as if she had any wrong ones. She was looking down, still washing the same plate before she looked up at Ron, turning her body towards him for an answer to her question.
"You keep mumbling...'mum'," Ron answered, hesitantly.
Hermione nearly dropped the plate from her soapy fingers. She breathed out a quivering breath as she slid the plate back into the the hot water in the sink. She lifted her hands out for a towel, but instead, Ron grasped her small hands in his large palms. Hermione's eyes swelled up, becoming bloodshot and red in seconds. Her tears gushed up by the rims of her eyes, but never poured over. Ron pulled Hermione close, wrapping one arm around her shoulder as he hugged her tightly.
"I miss her, Ron," Hermione mumbled.
"She misses you, too," Ron told her softly.
Hermione drew her body from Ron and leaned over the sink. She pulled her hair to one side. Just barely, Hermione whispered, "She doesn't even remember me."
"But you're a part of her," he said as he stood behind her, breathing deeply. "Her heart will always be missing you."
Hermione slowly turned around and leaned her back against the edge of the counter. She folded her arms across her chest as she dropped her head. Ron moved beside her and looked over into the living room where the rest of his family sat. Hermione sighed, twisting a lock of hair around her finger and jamming it behind her ear. Ron looked over at Hermione, her sandy red colored hair cascading down her shoulder as she flicked her thumb against her pointer finger and stared at the ground. He leaned over and lightly brushed her cheek with his finger, cleaning a bit of soap from her skin. Hermione looked up at him with a small grimace upon her face noted by her wrinkled eye brows and twisted lips, though her chalky brown eyes spoke soft words of thanks that pierced into Ron's heart like a strike of lightning, rupturing him with the assurance that Hermione understood his kind words and took them in as comfort. Ron lifted Hermione's hand in his and encompassed her slender fingers in his bulky palms. Hermione let out a quiet cheer, which soon turned into a jubilant laugh. Ron began to laugh, as well, for there wasn't a time when Hermione' laughter wasn't contagious. As the two laughed and embraced in the kitchen, there was a knock on the door, to which Ginny and Harry answered. Ron and Hermione sunk in along side Harry and Ginny to see who was at the door. Hermione's eyes widened considerably to see the perceptive, young, blonde haired witch standing at the doorstep.
"Luna?" Hermione asked, astonishingly, as she dragged her into the house by the hand. "What are you doing here?"
"Have you not heard about Bellatrix?" Luna asked while Hermione sat her onto the couch in the living room.
Hermione lowered herself to a chair opposite of Luna as Ron stood next to Harry behind her. She swallowed hard and answered, "Yes. We've, eh, heard."
"Oh," Luna said as she cocked her head and looked precariously at the trio. "She came for you, didn't she?"
Ron, Hermione, and Harry answered her with a terrifying silence. Luna looked at them passively before she dipped her head into her rose colored book. She flipped the pages a few times in front of her pale face, soon landing in the middle of the book. Luna brought the book to her lap, drew her wand from her bag, and pointed against the parchment's spine. Hermione, Ron, and Harry crowded around the girl to see what she was pointing at, but to their surprise the page was blank. Hermione's crooked eyes looked up at Luna in confusion.
"Aparacium," Luna crowed enchantingly, dawning the text to slowly crawl onto the pages. The invisible ink soon began to show, fading in from the top to the bottom of the pages.
"What is this?" Hermione asked.
Harry looked up at Luna, then returned his glance to the newly written pages and asked,"And where did you find it?"
"I found this in the basement of Malfoy Manor. It's written entirely in invisible ink. It's filled with all of the secrets of the great, dangerous witch, Bellatrix," Luna explained.
"Wicked," Ron whispered, making Hermione let out a small laugh.
"It used to be black," Luna seemed to announce ever so dreamily, flashing her sparkling eyes over to Harry. "I painted it pink."
Hermione never adverted her eyes from the book, as she seemed to be reading. She peered up at Luna quickly before she snatched the book from Luna's lap aggressively. Hermione flipped her crimson brown twists of hair to her back.
"Revenge," Hermione spoke, almost as a sweet song. "Such a simple word, yet meaning so much. Revenge. Oi, yes, revenge. That is what will fall upon them, I am sure of that. Potter and his mudblood little friend - and that scruffy looking red-head too! For all of them shall face the final wrath of my power one day. By Lord Voldemort and myself, I curse thou with my deepest disgust for who calls thyself the boy who lived, and all of thee who shall ever travel the same path with Harry Potter! Revenge shall fall upon you, Harry Potter. That is ensured. No matter where or when my grave is set, he shall never fall into sanctuary, for I will forever creep where he lay."
Hermione laid the open book on Luna's lap and lowered herself on the couch next to Ron. Luna snapped the book shut, send sparks of dust into the air. She balanced it on the Weasley's old, wooden table between the couch and the two chair facing opposite of them. She kindly excused herself from the room, letting the door bounce a few times against the frame on her way out. Not three seconds after Luna had left, Ginny walked in, staring at Ron, Harry, and Hermione's petrified faces. Harry stood up and briskly walked her out of the room, assuring her that there was nothing to worry about. Hermione spun her body out the couch to face Ron.
"Do you really think she means that?" she asked him, toying with his fingers.
"Getting revenge?" Ron snarled with speckles of sarcasm in his tone. "Yeah, I do. But that doesn't mean she's going to get it."
Hermione moved her gaze up to Ron, beaming her glowing eyes at him as he stared down at the book on the table, glaring at it vexatiously. Ron flicked his view over at Hermione and radiated a full smile affluent in felicity. Hermione let out a chirp of laughter, then sighed, allowing a fragment of a smile to curl at the end of her lips. Ron bowed his head down and laid a fluid kiss upon Hermione's lips. She returned the kiss enthusiastically, caressing her lips against his passionately. Ron wrapped his hand around Hermione's neck nimbly. They unraveled their lips and sat back on the couch. Hermione laughed, but she didn't know why. She was probably just too happy with Ron for her own good. Ron and Hermione turned their heads to see Harry trekking through kitchen. Luna was shuffling along not far behind him wearing her 3-D glasses with her nose in her father's newest issue of The Quibbler.
"You've heard of Herpo the Foul, have you not?" Luna asked, more directing her question to Hermione, assuming that she knew the answer.
"Yes," Hermione answered, to no surprise. She looked over to Ron and Harry as if she were asking them if she had to explain who he was. That answer was undeniably yes, and so she continued, "Herpo the Foul was a dark wizard known for being the first wizard to hatch a Basilisk and successfully create a Horcrux."
"True," Luna said, looking at Hermione whimsically before she dove into her story. "Herpo was all of that. But many people forget about his heir - yes, his heir. All of his heir's were squibs, whom he had disowned. Until this one, that is. Dorcas, her name is. A name not close to suiting her beauty at all. Dorcas was born in 1946, though she does not look her age. At the age of 17, Dorcas created her own potion - Aetas Tergus, she called it - and was set at being 17 forever. Anyway, she inherited all of her ancestors abilities including dark arts mastery and parselmouth. Though, none of the dark traits were passed down. Dorcas was given a yew wand that was thirteen and a half inches, much like Voldemort's, but with a Dragon's heartstring inside to match Bellatrix. She was sorted into Gryffindor, despite her history. Dorcas did great things in her days, but has fallen off the grid and since been presumed to be dead."
"Well, how do you know that she isn't actually dead?" Hermione asked, interrupting Luna.
"She works for my father. She draws some beautiful pictures in The Quibbler, but she never puts her name on it," Luna revealed. She glanced up at Harry with dazzling eyes and continued, "I suspect the she gives my father credit to through the Nargles off. They infested her house with mistletoe, you know."
"Right," Ron said hesitantly, "but what's she got to do with Bellatrix or defeating her?"
Luna murmured, "Well, she's very powerful. At least as powerful - if not more powerful - as Bellatrix. Voldemort, even. She could defeat anyone if she tried or become the next great Dark Wizard. She's too kind hearted to kill without reason, however. But we can give her a reason. She wouldn't stand to see you all killed."
Hermione looked down, contemplating their options. She swallowed hard before finally asking, "Where do find Dorcas?"
"She resides near a Muggle village," divulged Luna. "Dorcas lives right outside - sort of on the edge of - Little Hangleton."
"Where Voldemort's parents lived?" Harry asked, springing towards her.
"Oh, yes," Luna answered. "That's why she lives there. She finds it suspicious, but too much of a Muggle village to be so suspicious that she will be found."
"Can we go there?" Hermione inquired. "Can she help us?"
Luna extended her hands to Harry and Hermione. Hermione took Ron's and Luna's as Harry tightly held Luna's, forming a line. Luna closed her eyes tightly and apparated them from the room. They appeared again in long green grass. They opened their eyes to see Dorcas's tiny cottage out the outskirts of Little Hangleton. The cottage was a light blue with dull banana yellow window frames. The door was pasty white with black splatters of paint on it. Vines were climbing up the sides of the house, but it didn't look at all messy. It looked very picture perfect, in fact. Dorcas's house looked extremely well tended to - like the vine had been guided to grow in criss cross patterns, the toads on the steps were placed gently on the concrete, and the birds were glued onto the top pillar of her little cottage. There was even mistletoe spurting wondrously from the chimney, cascading down the brick and laying on top of the grey shingles on the roof.
Hermione edged forward towards the house and Ron followed her. Luna and Harry walked after them, pushing away flies that tried to grasp onto their legs and arms. Hermione climbed up the steps, rapped on the door, and fell back to stand with Harry, Ron, and Luna in the grass. The door opened, revealing a beautiful, young woman with long legs and slim arms. Her blonde hair fell right past her shoulders, touching her chest. She was very pale, much like Luna, but still shone in the light. She was wearing a floral button down shirt and dark blue jeans that tightened around her calves and ankles with black and white sneakers. The woman hooked a smile on the corner of her mouth and moved to full view in the door, clicking her knobby knees together and hitting her bony wrists against her hips.
"Howya Luna," she said softly with a layer of an Irish accent in her tone, her words fluttering across the air with a voice almost as dreamy as Luna's, yet as stern and sharp as Hermione's. "What do yer friend's names be?"
Luna walked right into Dorcas's house and prompted Harry, Ron, and Hermione to follow her. She shuffled into the living room - which was directly into front when you entered the house - and sat herself onto the worn in, but still well put together, black leather couch. Hermione and Ron sat on the other end of the couch, opposite of Luna while Harry knelt on the arm of the couch. Dorcas closed the door and walked over to them. She sat in a large lavender colored chair with log arms and legs. She had her legs crossed tightly, looking as if she would never uncross them again.
"My name's Hermione Granger," a voice sang. Hermione jerked her head in the boy's directions and said, "This is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter."
"Potter?" Dorcas squeaked, sitting up straight in her chair. "Harry Potter, we meet at last. Oh, how ye have yer mother's -"
"Eyes," Harry interjected, laughing - for everyone said that about his eyes.
"Indeed, ye do, Harry," she sighed.
"You knew my mother?" he asked Dorcas.
"Aye, did so. Had only met her a few times - a bloody great witch, that Lily. And the famous Ron Weasley!" Dorcas moved her eyes to Ron, who was sitting next to Hermione with now flaming red ears. "Family o' seven, I reckon. Now, I dun mean to throw shapes, but I did do know about ye. An' this ripe o' a bird here is Hermione, eh? Oh, ye be the finest witch o' yer age, I hear."
Dorcas's voice pierced through Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had never heard such a thick but floating, kind Irish accent. Luna handed Dorcas the pink book which used to Bellatrix's. She read at lightning pace. Hermione began to fondle with Ron's fingers when Dorcas's voice sang again.
"I can help ye, I can," she told them, snapping the book shut. "I be needing to keep Luna with me and I suggest Harry be staying with me, too. Yer two - Ron, Hermione - ye need to be at a safe place. Here - er - aye! Witch's Willow. Ye ever heard o' it?"
"No," said Ron and Hermione harmoniously.
Dorcas grunted. "A'right. I be sending ye there, eh? Ye can use me Floo Powder, dun worry. When ye get there, go to forty two Gimping Goblin's Lane, ye hear? It be in Wizard's Burrow, off to ye left o' the entrence o' Witch's Willow. Now," she said, pushing Ron and Hermione into her fireplace and handing the fistfuls of Floo Powder, "dun ye be going off an' being thick, aye? Keep out o' the way o' chancers an' guirriers. Be wide an' keep ye cake-holes shut!"
Ron and Hermione barely understood half of what Dorcas had said. Still, they flung their Floor Powder into the fireplace and spoke clearly, "Witch's Willow!" Green fire spun around them and whooshed them away.
"Bellatrix! What a waster o' a witch!" they heard Dorcas murmur on their way out.
Ron and Hermione thudded to their feet. Hermione peered up at the sign above them that read, "Witch's Willow" in a curly print. She and Ron drew their wands from their pockets. Hermione reached for Ron's hand and clasped it. They didn't say anything, they only followed Dorcas's orders. They turned left at the entrance and found Wizard's Burrow. Ron lit the tip of his wand so tat they could see in the darkness. They walked for twenty three minutes until they found Gimping Goblin's Lane. They walked for another eleven minutes until they were standing in front of house number forty two. Cautiously, Ron crept into the dark house. He shown his wand in every room before he let Hermione come in. Even then, Ron made sure that Hermione was either by his side or in his sight. This didn't bother Hermione in the least because she was doing the same for Ron.
The night grew even darker as black clouds formed around the moon - the only light in the sky - and droned it out. Rain began to patter on the roof and slip down the windows. Hermione stared out through the glass to the house across the street. The perfectly cut grass lined up along the white concrete. There was a light in one window that kept going on and off. She knew it had to be a young witch or wizard practicing the Lumos spell by the way the blue-ish light faded in and out frequently. Ron walked up behind Hermione and took her hand. She jumped a little bit - partly because he startled her and partly because of his icy cold hands. Ron kissed her forehead.
"Let's go to sleep," he whispered to her. "It's been a long day, you must be tired."
Hermione sighed and nodded her head. Ron, still holding her hand, walked with her up a flight of stairs to a bedroom. Ron must have seen Hermione's eyes flicker with confusion and speck of fear because he told her, "I'll sleep where ever you're most comfortable."
"No," she reassured him. "Sleep in the bed with me. It's better with you there."
They didn't even bother undressing and getting into their pajama's. Ron and Hermione walked over to the bed, prompting Ron to lift Hermione off her feet and toss her on top of the bed, throwing himself on top of her. She let out a breathy and exhausted laugh as he rolled over and laid flat on his back next to her. Hermione turned to her side and tightened one hand in Ron's. Her other hand ran across Ron's shirt as Hermione traced the pattern that Mrs. Weasley had sewn for him. Hermione kicked her knee against Ron's leg and moved her head into Ron's soft shoulder. Ron had one arm around Hermione's neck with his hand draped over her shoulder and the other laying against the comforter of the bed. He bent down and kissed Hermione's forehead again. This time, she looked up at him and returned his peck with a passionate snog on his lips. She intertwined her lips with his and ran her hand up his chest to his neck. Ron returned the kiss enthusiastically, pulling Hermione closer onto his chest. Hermione cupped her hand around Ron's cheek, rich with stubble for he had not shaved recently. They pulled their lips apart and went back to their old positions, with Hermione's neck in Ron's embrace and Ron's chest with Hermione's hand on top of it.
"I love you, you know," Hermione murmured quietly - so quietly that Ron almost didn't hear it.
Ron chortled a bit and said, "You already know that I love you, Hermione."
Hermione smiled, let out a small laugh, and sighed again. She twisted her arm around Ron's waist and ran her leg over his. She closed her eyes tightly, but Ron didn't close his for a long while. He had stayed awake, making sure Hermione fell asleep soundly. Hermione's breaths became even and rhythmic, comforting Ron that she had fallen asleep. Ron hastily fell asleep, his snores drowning out Hermione's calm breaths, but never waking her up.