Inside
Chapter Seven: The Letter
Hermione's POV
My heart hammered quickly against my chest as I leaned up against the stone wall beside the portrait of the fat lady, thinking stupidly of myself for running off like that without even knowing the password. I was so careless for not even opening the before start of term letter to find out the new password in the first place! And then, walking up to the castle with Ron, I was too busy by the time I got to the castle almost dying to even be told what it was! Stupid, stupid, stup-
"Hermione?" Ron asked as he appeared beside me. "What are you doing out here still? I led all the first years like you said, thinking you'd be inside, but Ginny said you weren't in your dormitory… I was worried, where have you been?"
"Walking around," I told him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I- I didn't know the password."
"You? Not knowing something me, Ron Weasley knows?" he asked proudly. "Who'd of ever guessed the day would come. Here, it's-" he began, turning from me to face the portrait of the fat lady. "Honey Dukes."
"Honey Dukes?" I asked, following in behind him as we walked through the porthole to the common room. "Rather simple though, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but, never mind that. Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked as he took a seat on the couch across from the cracking fire; patting the spot beside him. "Sit for a minute, won't you?"
"Ron, I just nearly bled to death," I told him as I crossed my arms over my chest and took the seat next to him. "If there is anyone in this entire school who has something on their mind Ron, I get first priority."
"Yeah, I know, but, no. Hermione, that's not what I'm talking about. Even before we got to school you've been acting different; not talking as much, isolated… just not you. Not my Hermione…" he trailed.
"Ron, it's just… you know what happened this summer," I began slyly. "First I had to house Snape, and then my parents took off, never to call and leaving me alone with him. And then nearly as soon as I get to school I am hit with a curse… I just, you know, have stuff on my mind. I'm not all here right now, but I'll try to be. I didn't know it was showing so much, if I did I'd of tried to hide it better."
"No, Hermione, I'm sorry. You don't have to hide it; you should never have to hide how you're really feeling… I'm being stupid; senseless as always."
"No Ron," I told him as I reached out my hand to cup his. "I wasn't… I shouldn't be complaining. I got myself into all of this after all. I mean, if I hadn't said yes to Dumbledore about Snape staying over in the first place I wouldn't have had to spend the entire summer alone with him. And if my mind hadn't been preoccupied in the first place we'd of never missed the carriages to the school, and I would have never been hit with that stupid curse."
I watched him watch me as I spoke; not really paying attention to anything that left my mouth and instead just letting words flow out of me. And I knew by the way his eyes never left mine, and by the way his fingers laced themselves through mine that what Harry had been saying all these years was not just a silly, stupid joke, but very much the truth. Ron was in love with me; the hearts he was tracing along the top side of my hand confirmed it even more. And I knew I should love him, too. But I don't. I just don't. Who I love is someone I have always hated; always resented, even. But what I said to him was true: we could never be together, and that was just a fact. And I needed to get over him and move on. Move onto someone who was right for me, who was my age and who wasn't a teacher.
No, I couldn't be with Professor Snape, and I never could. So I'd just have to make myself fall in love with someone else…
"Hermione?" Ron's voice pierced my ears through the silence, making me look up having had no idea I was even looking down in the first place. "I hate seeing you cry."
"What?" I hadn't even noticed, I was crying. Warm lines of tears danced their way down my cheeks, drop after drop. "I'm sorry… I didn't-"
"It's alright, you don't have to apologize. Besides, no one is here but us, so no need to be embarrassed."
"I'm not," I began, thinking hard and deep about what I was about to do. "I'm not embarrassed Ron, I'm just…" I said softly as I slid myself sideways on the couch until our knees were touching.
"Just what?"
"This," I told him as I squeezed his hand tightly, and leaned into him while sliding my other hand up his chest until it was laced loosely at the back of his head, where I then closed my eyes and pressed my lips against his.
His hands were around me before another thought was even able to cross my mind; straddling me to his lap and sliding his tongue into my mouth rhythmically, almost fluently… but not lovingly.
At least… Not for me.
"What've you got?" Ron asked while looking down at his timetable; his hand resting atop my thigh.
"Er, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination… the usual. You?" Harry responded, looking at his own.
"Well, I've got same as you Mate," Ron responded. "What about you Hermione?"
"I have Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, Charms and Herbology," I told them before folding my timetable and sliding it into the inside pocket of my robe.
"Hold on, you've got Herbology sixth hour? But that's seventh years, isn't it?" Ron wondered.
"Yes, it is."
"But, why?"
"Well, it's simple really. If I'd of had third hour Herbology then I'd of had to have my Ancient Runes be sixth hour, also seventh year, and because of course I wouldn't want that I'd of had to switch Defense Against the Dark Arts to sixth hour, making Herbology sixth year. But, because I didn't want to have Ancient Runes seventh year I decided to keep Defense Against the Dark Arts first hour and keep Ancient Runes sixth year making Herbology seventh year, which in my opinion is much easier than seventh year Ancient Runes. Wouldn't you say?"
"Uh… erm… Yeah, yeah Hermione, whatever you say," Ron said awkwardly, laughing and wrapping an arm around my shoulders, hugging me to his side.
"Harry, you agree don't you? Or do you think I should have tried to go seventh year Ancient Runes?" I wondered, pulling out my timetable and reading it over again. "Oh, wait, no! Then I'd of had to have Defense Against the Dark Arts be sixth hour and I wouldn't want that at all! Mind you, it would have made me be in more classes with you… what d'you think Ron? Harry?" I asked, darting my eyes between the two of them.
"I think that, maybe, Hermione, you're taking this timetable thing a bit too far," Harry suggested, looking down at his mug then back up to me. "I mean… it's just a timetable, not the end of the world Hermione. You've plenty of time all of this year to think of what classes you really want to take. This year I think you should just focus on what classes you have, and leave it at that."
"But… I… Ron, what do you think?" I asked biting my lip nervously. "Oh, never mind… it's stupid, I'll see you guys in class," I said miserably, pulling Ron's arm off of me and pulling myself away from the bench.
"So, think she's got some underlying issues there?" I heard Harry ask once my back was turned and I had taken a few steps.
"She did have a rough summer, Mate. First Snape being there, then her parent's basically abandoning her alone with him. And never ca-" Their voices faded into rumble amongst all the other voices as I walked farther and farther away.
'Dear Miss Hermione Jean Granger,' I began reading again as I sat in the quite, lonely and cool Potions classroom, hugging myself with one arm and pinching my lips closed tightly together.
'I am sorry that it has taken so long for me to contact you, but I fear that if I do not now then I never will be able to will myself to do so again, and that, other than giving you up, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I also fear that if I tell you who I am this early in the letter you will discard it and dismiss it into the nearest trash bin after tearing it apart and crinkling it in small wads, if not setting it to flame.
I know that I said I gave you up, and, if you are as smart as I have heard, than you already know that that means Hugo and Rose Granger are not your birth parents. But myself, and the man who raped me nearly eighteen years ago are.
To start things off, I must tell you that I will not sugar coat things, and I will not hold anything back. I have no fear about giving you too much at once as I have already waited too long to tell you any of this… so, here I go.
You were my first child, and giving you up, was both painful and necessary. And, because of having to give you up, and my husband's faith and trust in me, we decided to get pregnant immediately after I had you. I knew it would be hard to do, to have another child knowing I would never get to hold, or even talk to, my first. But when my son was born, it made me realize what a mistake I had made in ever giving you up, but, as any good Mother and wife does, I kept this knowledge to myself. Until now. I gave my son as much love and admiration as I had in me, and through loving him, I was, in a way, hoping to send some to you as well.
I gave you the name Hermione because it had been my sister's name, my sister who had not made it past her first day of life. My other sister, being younger than myself and Hermione would be, has no knowledge of this. And those who did know of her have set it apart from their minds long ago.
(I must take a break here from my story to tell you that it was my fault for your parents' absence this summer. It was I who called them away, and, to hide the truth from you even further, they came up with yet another lie to tell you why they had to leave so suddenly. It was me, begging them to allow me to meet you, to see you for the first time in seventeen years, which kept them away. It was their constant denial of my pleas that kept them away. But now, seeing how you are of age, it is no longer their decision what you choose to do with your life, but your own. I do apologize for taking them from you in the way I did, I do hope over time you will understand why I did what I did.)
It was the Christmas of 1978, and everyone was drinking. It was a party where all were welcome – all whom had attended Hogwarts in the early seventies, that is - and at some point in time I had ended up alone with your biological father, or, more appropriately, the man who raped me. We were in a room filled with contemporary colored decorations and floating white and gold candles. There was a large fire crackling in the fire place, and we were seated far apart from one another along a long 'L' shaped couch. I was just past the point of being drunk, and he, having arrived to the party a good hour before myself and husband, was much more inebriated than me.
It started out innocent enough, saying a few words of old memories from classes and such from our school days. But then, then it was anything but innocent. He began commenting on my chest and legs, and wondering if they were any stronger than they looked. (And, of course, it being a party which would involve quite a lot of drinking, were recommended wands be left at home for safety reasons. So, needless to say, I was truly helpless.) He pulled himself drunkenly along the couch closer towards me, saying things such as, "your breasts are larger than my wife's, they look softer, too." Or, "I wonder if I can satisfy you better than your husband can, I bet I can."
"I always did wonder what snogging would be like with you when we were in school…"
I will tell you no more of his comments.'
Tears were filled in my eyes, and my body felt cold, like ice, as I imaged hers must have as the letter went on.
'He was on top of me then; throwing his hands down my blouse and around my hips. I tried to scream out, but his lips were on mine before I was even able to let out the slightest of hollers.
I gathered all of the strength I had and shoved him off of me, and ran from the couch. But he was up and his hands ripping at the tail of my jacket just as soon as I had gotten up. I kicked backwards at him, but my efforts made no difference. I was on the ground, and he atop me, bashing my head against the ground until I was so dizzy I couldn't see a thing straight.
He laughed then, and ripped my blouse open and began kissing my neck and collar bone, and fondling my breasts roughly with his hands. And after what seemed an eternity of that, he unzipped my skirt and pulled it up past my naval, where he then ripped my panties like they were mere parchment. I had been begging him and fighting him the whole time, but all he did was accept it as a challenge, and become more and more violent.
(I will tell you no further detail, as it gets too graphic for even myself to speak of, let alone think back on.)
After he had finished… I was bleeding and bruised and disoriented as I went looking for my husband, and when he saw me, it was as if he hadn't had one drop to drink. He sobered up so quickly…
We went home after that, and I found out I was pregnant with you five days later.
I will tell you now who I am, and who the man who raped me was.
My name is Narcissa Malfoy, and the man who rapped me was James Potter.
You are half brother to my son, Draco, and to James and Lily Potter's only child, Harry. You are not a muggle born, my dear, but a full-blood witch. I am sorry you had to find out this way, but I could think of no other way to make you believe me other than telling you the honest and brutal truth. I will never lie to you. And though you have never met me, I love you. I have loved you since the moment you were born, regardless of how you came into this world. You have been, and always will be, my little girl.
Love always, and with regards and sorrows,
-Narcissa Malfoy
P.S. I would be honored if one day you would do me the greatest gift of letting me meet you.'
I slowly folded the letter up and slid it into my bag with trembling hands.
TBC