A/N – thanks for reading and reviews are most welcome. Hope you enjoy.
PS its not mine its JK's
Chapter 2 A moment of Hope in a House of Cards
Casting eyes upon the bed the guardian considered her charge, she was tired and thin despite resting fitfully since she had been brought here. The dark circles under Hermione's eyes made it look like she had two black eyes. Her skin was a mess of minor wounds, small cuts, scratches and bruises that hinted at what she had endured over the last few weeks. However the most damning evidence that the young girl had bore far too much had come to light while the guardian had bathed her in the form of scars from old wounds on her back that made it look as though Hermione had been thrown backwards through a window and had not had the opportunity heal herself magically. Combined with the word 'mudblood' that had been carved into her arm and a mass of yellowish green bruises on her torso and arms, it certainly appeared as though Hermione had been at the very least tortured and starved, her ribs highlighting the latter by protruding visibly.
The guardian maintained their vigil by her bedside as Hermione began to whimper yet again, clearly getting drawn into another nightmare. A hand reached out and gently stroked the sleeping witch's back offering her reassurance and Hermione settled again. A sigh of relief escaped the guardian's lips as they withdrew their hand. It was going to be a long process, healing Hermione's wounds, the mental and emotional one's posing much more of a challenge than the physical ones.
It had been two days since the guardian brought Hermione here and almost every moment of it had been wrought with fret and worry. It had been hard enough to watch Hermione breaking down in the boat house but what followed once they had arrived here had been simply heartbreaking. The young witch had fallen unconscious when they had first arrived here which, in itself, was hardly surprising given the exhaustion written all over her body. Whilst bathing her however Hermione had awoken and terror seemed to overcome the young girl, the guardian simply held her and tired to soothe and reassure her. This seemed to bring on some sort of catatonic state, Hermione was unresponsive and all the guardian could do was take care of her body and hope that her mind was repairing itself so that they could work together on her heart and soul.
The sound of the window being gently pushed open caught the guardian's attention pulling them out of the memory, a wand drawn and defensive posture taken before it could register that it was an owl, cautiously making it's way into the cabin. Putting the wand away the guardian walked to the owl and relieved it of it's burden and offering it a treat. The owl was indistinguishable in its features, it was certainly not one of the Hogwarts ones but a small ring around its legs identified it as one of the ones from Eyelopes Owl Emporium in Diagon Alley. The letter, addressed to Hermione Jean Granger in emerald green ink, was tossed on the dresser where it joined the others that had arrived in a constant flow since just an hour after the Guardian had brought her here. The guardian knew that it was only a matter of time before it was more than just owls they would have to contend with, but until Hermione awoke and was in condition to determine how she wanted to proceed all that would be ignored. To hell with the war and the Order, did they not know they had gone too far? Pushed the young witch too far? Taken advantage of her wisdom beyond her years and her need to please everyone? The very thought of it brought a seething rage but all it took to dispel this rage was to glance at the now safe and resting witch in the bed.
A soft chime from a clock in the cabins lounge indicated that another hour had passed, a cursory glance at the sleeping witch revealed that she finally appeared to be resting comfortably. Satisfied that their charge was safe the guardian rose from the chair by the bed and wandered out the room leaving the door open and began their routine of checking the wards on the cabin. Satisfied that the wards were intact the guardian made their way to the kitchen and with a flick of their wand vegetables were chopped and threw themselves into the pan on the stove along with some fresh herbs, a stream of water followed shortly after and the pan was heated to a gentle simmer. With soup being made, the guardian wandered over to the greatest muggle invention ever and poured a steaming hot mug of coffee. Nostrils flared as an earthy scent of bitter comfort wafted through them, senses were heightened with just the anticipation as the hot liquid was raised to lips and the first delightful sip was taken and tension was swallowed down with each mouthful. Standing leaning against the counter in the log cabin's basic kitchen the guardian cast a glance at the door leading to the bedroom, guilt was setting in for leaving Hermione defenceless against her dreams and so the mug was deposited on the counter half finished and bare feet padded to the bedroom door.
She had turned over again, tossing and turning had become as much of Hermione's hourly routine as checking the wards and having a half a mug of coffee had been a part of the guardian's routine. Satisfied that Hermione was safe and well the half finished mug of coffee was retrieved, one more mouthful was swallowed and the remainder of the mugs contents was unceremoniously dumped down the sink. The mug was washed out and set by the sink to dry, a flick of a wand set a wooden spoon to stirring the soup and the guardian wandered back to the bedroom. Standing at the foot of the bed a shiver went down the guardians spine, as a result a log was tossed on the fire, the window was pulled closed and candles around the room were lit giving it a soft glow that was comforting in itself.
Sitting back by the bed, picking up Hogwarts: A History and beginning to read the guardian started to see why Hermione liked the book so much. There were so many facts, curiosities and downright gems of information that could be gleaned from this book that the guardian began to think that Garius Tomkink ought to have been sent to Azkaban for outlining every defensive weakness the castle had. After trudging through three chapters the book was quietly placed on the floor and the guardian began to pace restlessly. How long would the young witch sleep? Perhaps a medi-wizard should be called? Hermione wouldn't thank anyone for that, of that the guardian could be certain.
The sleeping witch turned back over again, the now familiar whimper escaping yet again from her lips. A hand reached out to soothe her forehead but the guardian stiffened as the hand was swotted away, instantly it was evident that this one was different. Hermione's breathing became laboured, a sheen of sweat coated her face and she was now thrashing about as though she was under attack. Unsure of what to do the guardian got up and paced to the other side of the bed nervously watching the clearly distressed witch as she battled her inner demons through this nightmare, reluctant to reach out to the young witch again, not wanting to go over than boundary of trust, not even for a nightmare, the guardian perched on the edge of the bed.
Suddenly Hermione was screaming, she had shot bolt upright in the bed, without thinking the guardian reached out and wrapped their arms around the terrified and disoriented witch and began to make hushing sounds, repeating over and over that Hermione was safe, that it was over. As Hermione calmed down the temptation was too much and the guardian began to lightly place their lips against the exposed skin of Hermione's bare shoulder. The bushy haired witch was trembling but at the same time placed her hands over those of the guardian's, holding onto to them and seeking refuge from them. Hermione was pulled back down to a laying position but the gentle kisses and soft reassurances continued to pour from the guardian as she was held safe. Hermione began to relax but still the guardian held her, feeling their heart thundering. The tables were turned now, they didn't know how they knew, but it was evident that now was the time that their identity was to be revealed to Hermione.
Sure enough the smaller witch turned in the guardian's arms; the guardian was holding their breath as their own eyes met those chocolate ones of Hermione's then, after their gaze was locked for what seemed like an eternity but in reality was mere seconds, the chocolate disappeared behind fallen eyelids but not before a slight smile graced her beautiful face as Hermione drifted back asleep.
The guardian gently let out the breath they had been holding, Hermione had not fought to get away, she had not screamed at them on fear and, nor had she yelled in anger. Far from it in fact, she had relaxed, she had smiled and she had felt safe enough and comfortable enough fall back to sleep in those arms. The guardian chose to take a leaf out of Hermione's book and for the first time in two days allowed sleep to overtake them.
A few hours later a familiar tapping roused the guardian from their slumber. Looking down they noticed that Hermione had not moved, pleased that the young witch had at least had some proper rest for once, the guardian tried to extract them self from Hermione without waking her. Bare feet hit the cool wooden floor and carried the guardian to the window. The sun was shining gloriously and the smell of fresh air filled the room as the window was opened to allow the owl access to the room. Impatient at being kept waiting the owl nipped at the guardian's fingers as the letter it was carrying was retrieved. Eye's widened as Errol the Weasley's owl was recognised, a treat was given to the owl as the guardian turned the envelope over, hoping that Ron had not written Hermione knowing that this would just add insult to injury.
The guardian sank down into the chair by the bed as the weight of the world appeared to rest on their shoulders. Sighing at the recognition of Bill Weasley's chicken scratch excuse for writing the guardian stole a glance at Hermione, to their surprise the young witch was laying awake watching them and suddenly they felt as though the little bit of security they had built up might fall down like a house of cards around them. The guardian lowered their gaze away from Hermione to the envelope that was now in their lap, the letter addressed to Fleur Delacour-Weasley.