In Aster Stars: A Tale of Mystery and Magic
By Meladara
The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and WB.
I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
A/N - Hi! Sorry I haven't updated in so long! It has been a busy summer. My hope is that I will be able to get this fic all cleaned up and posted in the next month or two. So, from here on out updates will be pretty regular. It is about 75k words long and mostly complete. As I said before, there is some clean up to do... I hope you all enjoy! As with most of my fics, you are can count on a HEA with a good dose of fluff for good measure by the end. So no worries about being left hanging or disappointed. I promise! I write what I like to read. ;) Reviews are always welcome, of course! I wish you all happy reading! ~Meladara
Hermione went through her morning ablutions lost in deep thought. It had been a week now since her parents' return, and she was completely perplexed. Something in them had changed, and she simply couldn't understand how it had come about.
She had noticed it the first day when her parents had nonchalantly spoken of magical things, such as the Memory Charm and Portkey, but it had quickly evolved into something much more apparent. The next day, her mother, while working on cleaning the house, had asked her about magical household charms and had even gone so far as to ask for a demonstration. Hermione had been stunned when her mother had beamed a smile at the sight of the dust disappear from the shelves and the nick-nacks setting themselves right. Since that day Hermione had been helping to complete the daily chores magically.
Her father, too, had displayed a new interest in her magic. Hermione had been taken aback when, one evening, her father asked about the potions text she had been reading. For a second she hesitated to even answer, and when she did try to for a response, the one that made it to the tip of her tongue was one driven by the instincts she'd developed over the past six years when dealing with her parents. But before the words left her lips, she looked at him. The inexplicable interest and honesty on his face had pulled her up short and reminded her of the change in her parents' views. She had cautiously explained a bit about the book to him, hedging against the chance that he may revert to his previous views at any moment. Instead, he'd politely inquired after any introductory texts on the subject that she might have available for him to read. After a small fit of disbelief, Hermione had fished out her first year potions text and gave it to him. Since then he had read through and made notes on several of her potions texts; he had also expanded his reading into the subjects of herbology and magical creatures.
Switching off the light to her room, Hermione began descending the stairs. As she walked and contemplated the changes, she shook her head in disbelief. It seemed as if part of their brain, which had been asleep before, was now awake and allowed them to comprehend magic in an entirely new way. How could such a thing even be possible? she wondered.
Good morning, Mum," Hermione said as she poured herself a cup of tea. "Do you mind if I invite Harry over today?" She had been meaning to send a Patronus to Harry for a week now, but the memory of her failed attempt from the previous week had held her back. However, her aching need to talk to a friend was grown, and she knew that she couldn't put it off any longer.
"Of course not, love. I would love to see Harry!" Jean exclaimed before turning back to the stove where she was frying up breakfast.
Hermione smiled. Her parents had immediately taken to Harry when they had met him. She suspected it had something to do with that fact that he understood how to function in the Muggle world and therefore, set her parents more at ease.
"Thanks, Mum. Will you be around to visit with him today?" Hermione asked.
"Actually, no. Your father and I will be out visiting some friends. Though, please don't let that stop you. If Harry has the time, perhaps he can stay for dinner."
"All right, then. I'm sure he would love to see you. Do you mind if I send him a message now?" she asked hesitantly.
Jean pulled the sizzling pan off the burner and turned to look at her daughter with excitement. "Yes, please!" she replied.
Shaking her head at her mother's bizarre excitement, Hermione closed her eyes. Thinking back to the moment, days ago, when the realisation had hit her that it was her parents standing before her. As the memory played out in her mind, she felt the slight tension in her release and a rush of happiness flood her. Brandishing her wand, she smiled playfully at her mum and chanted:
Expecto Patronum!
Bright light burst from the willow wand, careening across the room so quickly Hermione couldn't even make out the form of the little otter that she so adored.
Jean gasped at the amazing display. "What a lovely little dragon!" she exclaimed.
"A what?!" Hermione yelped, and she spun just in time to come face-to-face with her Patronus. As her faced drained of all colour and her knees began to buckle, she heard a distant voice calling her name. Then, she knew nothing.
Hermione's eyes fluttered open. The darkness faded from her eyes, and the familiar wallpaper of her childhood home came into focus. Confused, Hermione turning her heart, trying to take in her surroundings, and a dull throb burst behind her eyes causing her to still and her eyes to squint.
"Hermione, dear. Can you hear me?" a voice said.
Carefully, she began the process of propping herself up. Hands pressed to the floor, supporting her upper body, she hung her head and took a deep breath. Momentarily, her vision faded to black again, the dizziness again taking hold. She sucked in another breath and waited, frozen in place until her mind cleared.
"Hermione, dear. Can you hear me?" the voice repeated.
It was her mum.
She felt a gentle brush against her cheek as her mum brushed her hair out of her face.
"What happened?" Hermione murmured.
It was breakfast. She was drinking tea, and her mum was cooking breakfast. Hermione's hand flew to her forehead as the dull ache peaked in stabbing throb. Her mind struggled to clear itself through the pain.
She was at breakfast and they were talking about...
about...
Harry!
She gasped.
She remembered now. The Patronus she had meant to send Harry, it had... well, it hadn't gone as planned.
Finally feeling her brain, though not exactly clear, at least understanding the situation, Hermione raised her head gingerly and looked around. She was startled to find her mother sitting next to her, a concerned look upon her face.
"Hermione, dear, are you okay? You took quite a fall there," Jean said.
A dull ache vibrated through her skull as she nodded to her mother. Raising her head up to survey the room, her eyes grew wide before narrowing against the sudden throb brought on by the movement. There before her was a glowing figure.
"Still here, I see," she said, her voice an odd mixture of tired amusement and confusion. "Now, the question is, what are you?"
Playfully, the animal of mist and light gambolled toward the pair. Hermione smiled wanly. "Well, at least you're still friendly. Though, I really like my otter," she said a bit petulantly
The Patronus, now floating before her, nudged at her shoulder gently with its insubstantial head, the mist billowing out into puffs of smoky light where he touched her. As it drew back, the Patronus seemed to study Hermione. Stepping in front of her again, it motioned for her to stand with a nod of its head. Hermione laughed. "Okay, little one. I'll get up; just give me a moment."
Still feeling slightly dizzy, she stood up cautiously, and then she began to examine the Patronus.
Jean quietly watched on as the pair interacted.
"You're right, mum. He does look a bit like a dragon, of some sort, only much smaller," Hermione noted.
Standing at about a metre high, he had small wings and a blunt snout. On his head the light and mist shone very bright, forming what looked like a glowing star on his forehead. Pleased to have his mistress's attention, it began to bounce up and down in front of her, enthusiastically. She was reminded of a Disney movie she had watched as a child, there was an exuberant dragon in it much like the one before her. Although, if she recalled correctly, the one in the movie was much larger.
Tentatively, Hermione extended her fingers toward the little dragon, wondering if she would be able to touch him. Slowly, she allowed her fingers to glide over his head. The mist of light was cool against her skin, and as she moved, it swirled around her fingers, reshaping quickly as she withdrew them.
"Now, what to do with you? I suppose you could still take my message. Your arrival will certainly intrigue Harry enough to get him to visit much more quickly."
As if in agreement, the little dragon spun before her enthusiastically and then sat down to await his first-ever message.
Hermione laughed again. "Okay, little eager one, please go to Harry Potter and invite him to visit at his earliest convenience. Also, if you could deliver the message when he is alone; I'm not particularly interested in anyother company. Can you do that?"
The little dragon nodded, and then with a leap that launched him into a fast trek around Hermione, the Patronus bounced to the door and disappeared through the crack at the bottom.
"Well, that was interesting," Hermione said.
"It certainly was!" Jean replied happily, startling Hermione. Though she'd not forgotten her mother was watching on, it was difficult to get accustomed to her parents new love of magic. "Now, what was that thing? A patro-something? Right?" Jean asked enthusiastically.
"Hermione?" Harry called.
"I'm in here," Hermione answered from the back of the house. After receiving Harry's reply Patronus and seeing her parents off, Hermione was pleased to find the feeling of normality still with her. It felt as if the appearance of the little dragon, in combination with a week of her parents' company, had shored her up emotionally speaking and perhaps even healed a little of her wounded soul. Whether this was permanently or temporarily she couldn't tell, but she was grateful for the changes of the last week nonetheless.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked puzzled as he watched Hermione push the last bit of laundry into the dryer.
"Yes, Magic is faster, but there is something about warm, freshly laundered clothing that magic cannot duplicate." Picking up the basket that was sitting atop the dryer, she turned and walked past Harry, going into the main part of the house.
"I suppose," he said sceptically. The incongruity in the Hermione who had left Hogwarts and the Hermione he was seeing now was jarring, and it set him on edge. "So, how are you doing?"
"I'm not sure I have a great answer for that. I wasn't doing so well until a week ago, but I'm a bit better now. I managed to cast a Patronus at least, which is a good sign. Then, of course, I passed out, so..." her words faded as she leaned over the couch and overturned the laundry basket.
"You're going to fold it by hand?" he asked mildly surprised that she was doing everything without magic. Harry remembered that her parents didn't encourage her magic; however, they weren't here to watch, and Hermione, although Muggle-born, usually embraced her status as an adult witch.
"What's the point putting it to dry in a dryer if I don't get to enjoy the warmth and smell it generates? Honestly, do you ever listen to what I say?" Hermione sat herself next to the clothes and began to fold.
"Um... okay. You're odd today." Suddenly, he recalled her words. "Wait! What do you mean you passed out?"
Hermione laughed. "Exactly that. It's not a difficult concept. I'm surprised though, I expected that the first words out of your mouth would be something about the fact that my Patronus has changed. I passed out when I saw it, so I figured it would at least get some reaction out of you."
"Oh, you got a reaction. I'm here, aren't I? I was simply trying to show my maturity and wait until you were ready to explain." He grinned cheekily at her. "Not to mention I was just a tad surprised at your laundry methods. So, can you explain the miniature dragon? I mean, you've not suddenly fallen madly in love with Draco Malfoy or something? Right?" His voice held a teasing tone as the name of their school enemy rolled off his lips. It had always been a sure way to get her goat, mentioning the once bane of her life, Draco Malfoy. The fact that she now had a dragon Patronus was just the icing on the cake.
Pulling a face, Hermione scoffed, and her voice went high as she threw the towel she'd been folding at her friend. "Excuse me? Good Merlin, Harry... To even imply... I don't know what to say except that it goes against the laws of nature."
Harry laughed and tossed the towel back to her.
Catching it, she smoothed out the towel, folded it neatly and then set it aside. Thoughtfully, she spoke again, "Truthfully, I haven't a clue as to what happened with my Patronus. It was an otter, and now, it is a dragon of some sort. I won't really know more until I do some research. I can, however, guarantee that it has nothing to do with Draco Malfoy." She shuddered slightly. "Never. No. Never."
"All right then, why don't you tell me why I'm here. Not that I mind visiting my best friend. I really have missed you."
"Oh, Harry. I've missed you, too." For a moment Hermione simply looked at her friend. He was now sitting across from her, in her father's favourite chair, dressed in an odd purple plaid shirt and black trousers.
"You seem to be better," he observed.
"Well, looks can be deceiving, I assure you," she confided quietly. "I'm so confused, Harry."
"Oh." He was startled by the sudden melancholy in her voice; she had been so playful before. Folding his hands in his lap he waited for Hermione to continue.
Her chest heaved as she sucked in sharp breath, which caught in her throat. Exhaling slowly, the weight and sorrow began to slowly creep back into her mind as she began her story.
"I suppose," she said in a serious tone that sounded stark in contrast to the happy one she'd carried just moments earlier, "that I should start at the beginning."
"I'm not sure what happened to me, Harry. I don't think I was hit by a curse, " she whispered, a grim and sorrowful expression taking shape upon her face, "but it almost feels like I was. You know that after the final battle I just couldn't decompress like everyone else. Everywhere I went in Hogwarts, I was haunted by my memories of the battle – for weeks. These reminders faded, as I suspected they would, when I removed myself from Hogwarts; unfortunately, they were replaced by others, which were equally disturbing. I began hearing the phantom echoes of my parents' voices in our halls and seeing flashes of them as they would have gone about their everyday life. Essentially, my memories constantly flood me here, too. It was just not as bloody as it was at Hogwarts. Granted, the memories generated here are not quite so horrifying, but they weigh on me, nonetheless." Hermione paused, collecting her thoughts.
"I guess the phantom memories of my parents are the better choice of the two, but that isn't a concern now. You see, my parents came back."
Harry started. "What do you mean they came back? I thought..."
"I know. So did I. But apparently they were found by a wizard, and he removed the Memory Charm and helped them get home... by Portkey." Hermione chose her words carefully, knowing that Harry would make the same leaps of thought and come out with the same concerns that troubled her.
Harry's face began to drain of colour. "And they're here?" His voice suddenly alarmed as his wand slid into his hand.
"Don't worry. It is really them. I checked that in the first moments after their arrival. And they're not Imperiused as near as I can tell."
Her friend relaxed minutely and he allowed his hand to loosen it hold on his wand. "Well, that is something. So, do you know how? Or who? Or... Merlin, why? A mysterious wizard with enough skill to undo the Memory Charm finds them, does his magic, and then somehow convinces your parents to take a Portkey."
"Yes. Well, the truth is that I don't know much. They haven't been able or willing to explain much of their story other than the basics. My mum did imply at one point that she would tell me at another time, but I've never been able to get more out of her." Hermione paused. Looking to the laundry still piled in an unfolded heap next to her, she sighed and pulled out her wand. Waving it at the disorderly clothing, she watched as they quickly folded themselves and stacked into neat piles. Then flicking her wand negligently, each stack hopped into the laundry awaiting basket.
Harry, who was lost in thought, missed Hermione actions entirely.
After watching the basket float upstairs Hermione turned back to her friend. "Harry," she called, seeing that he was not paying attention.
"Sorry. It is odd, them coming back unexpectedly."
"Well, yes. That part is strange, but there is more, so much more. I told you they took a Portkey. My parents from before never would have taken a Portkey. My parents wouldn't have ever even said the word Portkey! But now it is like something was done to them to make them like magic, and they do, like magic that is. They've been kind and supportive since returning. It has helped hold back most of my problems, and given enough time, I think I could recover and go about living a normal life, that is, if I didn't have one other thing to deal with."
Hermione's eyes glazed over as a void expression flashed on her face. She seemed to see nothing as she considered how to share the next part of her situation.
"Nearly each night," she began hauntingly, "when I close my eyes, I see him." The words were spoken in a hushed voice full of halted, disjointed syllables, and her eyes began to glisten with unshed tears.
"Harry, when I sleep I see Professor Snape die, over and over again. I can smell his blood so strongly that it is almost a taste in my mouth. I can feel his breath as it leaves his body, sense the coldness of his skin under my hands. His eyes..." Tears began painting her cheeks now, streaks of sorrow down her face. "Worst of all are his eyes. They aren't black you know. They are a deep, deep brown that sometimes looks almost purple, and they watch me, plead with me. Somehow, I know he is asking me to save him, to help him, but I can't. I don't know what to do, and every night it is the same; he dies and I can't do anything to save him." Leaning back on the couch, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to smother the sobs beginning to shake in her. "I had hoped that with my parents here they would stop, but they aren't! And soon... so very soon, this will break me, Harry." As the confession of her deepest fear slipped from her lips, she choked out in broken sobs, "I don't know why? Why me? Why him, Harry? Why can't these things just leave me alone? Everything would be better if they would just stop!"
Harry jumped from his seat and rushed to Hermione's side. Gathering her up in his arms, he held her as she sobbed into his shoulder. "Shh... love. We'll work it out." Tears continued to flow from her as his shirt began to dampen, but still, he held his friend close. He really hadn't known what to expect today, but he was glad that he'd come. Hermione was, despite the strong front she put on for the world, such a gentle soul, and if being here helped her, then it was the least he could do. After all, she had stood by him during his darkest hours.
Harry pressed a kiss into the mess of curls clutching at his chest. "Don't cry. We'll figure this out. Plus, you are making a mess of my shirt, and this is one of Gin's favourites."
Hermione let out a muffled and soggy laugh. "Gin would like this monstrosity." She ran her fingers over the purple plaid covered shoulder, removing invisible dust. "Wizards really have no fashion sense whatsoever."
Harry chuckled. "Can't argue with you there. Now, about these dreams: When did they begin?" Harry asked her as he absently stroked her hair.
"I think it was maybe a night or two after the battle. I'm not sure.; that time period is very muddled in my mind. Before I left, I was having them every night. There are times when all I have to do is close my eyes, even during waking hours, and I find myself staring into his haunting eyes."
"And each night it is the same? Exactly?"
She gave a small nodded and then shook her head, as if unsure how to answer. "Yes and no," she said, before explaining further. "They start differently. In the beginning, they are calm and peaceful dreams. He is in them still, but then, they... I don't know, they warp and shift into..." Hermione paused to consider the exact details. "Things don't happen exactly like things did in the Shrieking Shack, but it's pretty close. I certainly don't remember smelling the blood so strongly. And the way he looks at me now, he did look at me for a moment just before he died, but not like this, not with such emotion and expectation. It is as if he is looking at me, expecting me to save him, but it is never clear what I am supposed to do. Then, when he realises that I can't save him, he dies."
They both sat silent for a time, Harry unsure of how to respond and Hermione unable to. Finally, she swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed on, "So, that is it. I had to leave because I couldn't take the memories the halls of Hogwarts brought back coupled with the nightmares. Then came the disaster with Ronald, which, unfortunately, I didn't see coming. I was too distracted and near my breaking point, and he was an idiot to think that I would be open to public confessions of love when we've never dated. I know I overreacted, which led to him overreacting, but still, he should have known better, grieving or not. He has a bloody brain and needs to learn to use it. Then, I came here and was miserable until my parents showed up. They have discovered a new love for magic but won't tell me anything beyond the basics of their return, and for some reason, I'm being haunted by my former professor, which is reducing me to an irrational, emotionally distraught condition."
Hermione stopped abruptly. Alarmed by the rush of words that had erupted from her. Sitting silently, she contemplated the recent events in her life. "It makes no sense. By all accounts I really shouldn't care this much about the death of a man who was only ever my teacher, a mean one at that. Because of everything, I've been unable to function, or I was so until my parents showed up. Even now, I find myself getting lost to odd bouts of melancholy. Before my parents came I'd get completely lost in my thoughts for hours. I shake myself out of this daze of grief and find that another day had passed. It isn't so bad now; they keep me grounded, I think. But I need help, Harry. I can't go on reliving this each night. It will eventually drive me insane. And worst of all is that I can't even really think of anything that can stop it, other than talking to you."
"Oh, Hermione. I had no idea," he said, hugging her tighter. "I don't have any answers, but we'll figure it out together. Okay? I think that the first thing you should do is talk to your parents. Find out the details of their story. Then, maybe we can plan a trip to Hogwarts for some research into recurring dreams."
"That's brilliant, Harry! You're right; a little research is just what I need. See, just talking today has helped me feel better."
"I'm glad." Harry said as Hermione pulled back. She looked much better now: calmer, more focused, more like herself. "I hate to ask, but have you given any more thought about the Ron situation?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Ron. No, not really. There is nothing to talk or think about. We kissed, it was a mistake and done in the midst of a battle. I don't understand what possessed him to confess his undying love to me in the Great Hall in front of most of the Order and his family. It was an idiotic move. Someday, I'm sure, we will be friends again, if he wants that. But it can never be more than that. I can't give him what he wants, and I am not what he needs. He certainly isn't want I need or want. Maybe I thought he was at one time, but I don't now. I've changed too much; my changed Patronus is testament enough to that fact. I don't know what more to say, other than I know, without a doubt, that I will never love him in the way he wants."
"Fair enough. I just had to ask, for his sake. He misses you. The whole family is still trying to figure out how to move on after Fred's death. Ron just chose the wrong way to do that."
"I know. I do feel bad, but with everything else, all the death and trauma, I find it hard to care. It all seems trivial"
"I do. All right," Harry said loudly as he slapped his hands on his lap, and then stood quickly before turning to Hermione and pulling her up, "why don't I send a message off to Professor McGonagall and see if we can schedule a visit to Hogwarts. That is, if you think you are up to it?"
"I think that I am, but only if you are with me. How about I go order some take-away while you send your message?" Hermione smiled at her friend.
"You do that. I'm going to send a message to Gin, too. I don't want her to worry."
"All right, then," Hermione said as she made her way to the phone in the kitchen. It was nice to talk to Harry again. It made her feel like normal again. Just as she reached the door leading into the kitchen, she turned back to her best friend. "Harry, thank you. I don't..." her words faded, and her eyes once again went distant, she didn't know exactly how to explain what it meant that he cared so deeply for her.
"I understand. You'd do the same for me, love." Tilting his head to her, he quirked a grin and then added, "Get ordering! I'm starving."
Hermione groaned mockingly, "Boys! Bottomless pits, more like!"
Listening to the sound of the kitchen door closing, Harry sighed, his hand running through and messing his hair. It was a puzzling situation to be true. It worried him that something could be bothering Hermione so, after all they had been through. Thinking back on the past year, Harry knew that Hermione had believed in him and had given him her entire support. She would have died before abandoning him to his fate. Hermione was a truly special person, and he'd sincerely meant it when he'd told her that she was the sister he'd never known all those weeks ago. To him, she was his only true family, and he'd do whatever he needed to help her through this rough time.
This fic was first posted in the 2012 SSHG Exchange on Livejournal. It was a gift for the lovely HBAR and would not be here today if it hadn't been for the support I received from Sixpence Jones. The banner is by talesofsnape. The original prompt will be posted at the end of the final chapter. I hope you enjoy!