The Ruins of Reality

Apparating didn't agree with Hermione. She clung to Severus, desperate not to lose what little she'd eaten at St. Mungo's. Once again she wished that the way from the Apparition Point to the castle were shorter. And Severus had refused to use the Apparition Point beyond the gardens, arguing that she was in no shape to navigate narrow paths and any more stairs than necessary.

At least the weather is nice, Hermione thought. Warm. Sunshine. And the air so soft, close to the Loch.

Wearily, she turned around and actually walked a few steps before she noticed that something was wrong.

Then she looked up and stopped dead in her tracks.

Hogwarts was gone.

Ahead of her the broken ruins of a great castle rose up above the cliffs. Only the walls were left of the buildings, and in places not even those. The crumbling remains of one lonely tower stared sightlessly across the lake.

Gasping, she stumbled backwards.

What had happened here while she was gone? Had Voldemort returned and killed everyone, before anyone noticed, before anyone could do anything at all?

She wanted to scream, but panic constricted her throat. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't turn away. She could only stare and stare at what was left of Hogwarts, until she realised dimly that those ruins were old.

What death and destruction had caused the castle to shatter must have happened hundreds of years ago. Ivy grew over the walls. In crevices stonecrop sprouted. Heather and gorse had taken over yards and gardens.

About sixty feet ahead rolls of barbed wired surrounded a lopsided sign that declared in faded letters: "Unsafe! Keep out!"

oooOooo

Hermione dropped to her knees as the ruins of the castle disappeared behind a veil of tears. From far away she heard screams, a terrible, broken-hearted keening.

Hogwarts gone.
Her magic, gone.

Had it ever been real?
Had she ever been a witch?

Was she real at all?

She hadn't done any magic in more than two years. How could she still be a witch? And she didn't feel like herself anymore. She didn't feel real. She barely felt anything at all. Not even when she began to beat her fists against the rocky road, gasping and shrieking, "I'm a witch. I'm a witch. I'm a real witch. Real, real, I'm real. And Hogwarts is real, too. Tell me, tell me. It's real, real, real!"

Suddenly she found herself yanked backwards at the shoulder. A hard smack and a hot flash of pain seared through the haze that surrounded her.

"Cease this foolishness instantly," Severus hissed from behind her. Harshly he jerked her right hand upwards. Without letting go of her shoulder, he ripped the dirty bandages from her injured palm. His right hand caught her wrist in an iron grip and wrenched it higher.

"Look at this!"

When she just sagged against him, he tightened his grasp on her shoulder and shook her violently. "Hermione, don't make me force you," Severus snarled. "LOOK AT YOUR DAMN HAND!"

Shuddering, she opened her eyes.

The hand of a woman extended before the background of a bright blue sky. Thin fingers covered with healing burns. A palm that looked like raw meat, glistening in the sunlight.

"Do you see this? Do you see your wand-hand, what the wand you tried out did to your wand-hand? Answer me, damn you, answer me!"

"I – I – see – my – my – hand," she sobbed.

"No," he growled. But he let go of her shoulder and instead wrapped his left arm securely around her body, holding her pressed against him. "Wrong answer. Try again."

"I – s-s-sssee my – my – w-w-wwwand-hand," Hermione whimpered.

"Your magic may be fucked three ways to Sunday and back," Severus said softly. "But it's still there. And this, awful though it may appear to you at the moment, is ample proof of your powers. Muggles and Squibs can wave a wand until they are blue in the face. Nothing will happen. Nothing at all."

He whispered a few words. The bandages he had ripped away from her hand floated up into the air, clean and white once more, and wrapped themselves carefully around her wand-hand. When the hand was bandaged once more, Severus enveloped Hermione in his embrace and gently laid his right hand on her bandaged one.

"You picked up a wand and very nearly annihilated one of the oldest shops in wizarding Britain. Trust me, you are a real witch. Witchcraft doesn't get much more real than that. Wand injuries are notoriously difficult to heal, and your magic was interfering. Healer Mugwort told me that they had to drain most of your magic in order to save your eye. That is all. In a few days Hogwarts will be clearly visible for you again."

With a moan she twisted around in his arms, hiding her face at his chest so she wouldn't have to see the broken remains of what had undoubtedly been a proud castle once upon a time. Pain pulsed in her right hand and burnt in her patched eye. Her body ached and her head pounded. As if a whole herd of hippogriffs had trampled her.

"And where shall I stay until then? Can you take me to Spinner's End? Or back to St. Mungo's?"

She felt him shaking his head. "Hush, you foolish, foolish woman. You asked me to take you home. Home is Hogwarts. And that's where I'll take you. Now close your eyes and relax. I'll cast Condormio on you. That should be enough to get you past the wards. When you wake up, you'll be safely in our bed. I promise."

He lifted her into his arms as if she didn't weigh a thing. As if –

"But I am real," she whispered.

"Very real," Severus agreed. "Now sleep. When you wake up, all will be well."

She wanted to protest – she knew better than that – but Severus kissed her and whispered something, and then the world went dark around her.

oooOooo

A/N: Condormio - a spell-adequate version of "condormire"/"to fall asleep"

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