Requiem for the Living
By Jinxd n Cursed
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I merely play in the world of J.K. Rowling; she still owns the characters.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Te decet hymnus, Deus, in Sion,
et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem.
Exaudi orationem meam,
ad te omnis care veniet.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Chapter Six
Upon returning home from dinner at the Weasley's, it was already Rosie's bed time, though she was a bit riled up from Molly's excellent chocolate trifle. With Hugo strapped tightly to her chest in a sling, Hermione dressed the almost three-year-old girl in her pyjamas and read from the Tales of Beetle the Bard for the nine hundredth time, or so it seemed to Hermione. Rosie fixated on the story of Babbity Rabbity like no other. By the time Rose was tucked in and asleep, Hermione was ready to find her own night dress but unfortunately, her son had other ideas.
From day one, Hugo had been the baby of dreams. He slept through the night at three weeks old, never had colic, never had a diaper rash (partially due to Molly's personal recipe for diaper cream), and hit all of his milestones right on the nose. It was almost like he knew that his mother needed him to be easy. Unfortunately, he chose one of his rare moments to fuss right as Hermione wanted nothing more than to rest with a cup of Earl Grey and listen to the radio.
A quick look into his nappy revealed the issue. With a sigh, she opened the door to his nursery and laid him on the changing table. A tap to the front of the diaper whisked away the soiled one into the pail of nappies to be washed. Hermione quickly laid a towel over him, having been sprayed in the face before. Cleaning him up quickly, she pointed her wand at a fresh nappy, whispered the incantation Molly had taught her, and watched as it wrapped itself snugly around her son. After changing him into a little orange Chudley Cannons sleeper that had been a present from Percy, of all people, she carried him downstairs and into the kitchen.
It had been quite a task to have the kitchen created to her specifications when they had built the house. She had insisted on adding a few Muggle components to its design, much to Molly's frustration. Hermione had given in on having cold storage cabinets in lieu of a refrigerator, seeing the cost advantages, but she had flat out refused to compromise on the stove. While she herself had grown up with an electric range, she knew many people who considered gas to be far superior. Given that she lived in Hogsmeade, it was much easier to get a gas tank than to somehow install a generator or hook into the nearest electric lines. She refused to deal with a wood fired stove.
She put Hugo down in the baby seat while she prepared a cup of tea and put away the dishes that had been drying by the sink. It was a constant battle to keep the house clean with only one of her to take care of two children. Rose was like a cyclone with her toys at times. And the books, oh my word the books. Despite not being able to read yet, she would take books off the shelf and flip through them, looking at the words and pictures. It was quite adorable only that she never put them back, leaving Hermione to do it. Though there were at least a dozen books strewn about the floor in the sitting room, Hermione ignored them once her tea was brewed, turning on the radio and settling in with Hugo.
After nursing and burping him, she laid Hugo on her chest, leaning back against the cushions and closing her eyes. Ron had been amazing at caring for baby Rose. That was back when his symptoms were barely noticeable. Hermione would nurse her but Ron would burp her, getting surprisingly large belches with only a few pats on the back. He could swaddle her perfectly without an incantation. It was almost eerie how well he could identify why she was crying when Hermione had been ready to pull her hair out. Hermione briefly wondered if part of the reason for the very prolific Weasley clan was because of some kind of innate parenting gift.
Hermione had to do without those skills with Hugo. For the most part, she was doing fine. Hugo was the easy baby after all, but some things just didn't come naturally to her. There had been one incident when she would have sworn she would never get Hugo to burp. Then there had been the day two weeks from the end of her maternity leave when all three of them had the stomach flu. That was the only time Hermione had caved and stayed with Molly and Arthur.
Life would be so much easier if she would live with them full time. She wouldn't have to cook or clean or grocery shop or do the laundry or the mending or any number of mundane chores. Rose would love it, especially when the cousins visited. Arthur would give them privacy though Molly wasn't likely to.
Hermione just couldn't give up the house she and Ron had built together though. He had insisted on six bedrooms, absolutely sure that Hermione would eventually cave on her three child limit. Hermione had transformed one into a library, one into a guest room, and one into a storage space for all of Ron's Quidditch memorabilia. Now it was filled with some of his things she just couldn't bear to get rid of. Most of it Harry and Ginny had helped her clear out, but there were a few things she couldn't let go of like his watch and the broomstick he had gotten when he became a prefect. The robes he wore to their wedding hung alongside her wedding dress in the closet in that room. Last but not least was a half full bottle of his cologne. When he had no longer been able to get out of bed, she had applied it for him every day. She had smelled it that awful morning she had woken up with him no longer breathing. The scent always brought back a flood of memories, both good and bad.
One of her most selfish reasons for not wanting to leave, though, was in the basement. She had a potion's laboratory down there. It wasn't nearly as nice as the one at St. Mungo's, but it was perfect for the occasional research experiment and for brewing remedies and household potions. It had been a tough sell to Ron but he had given in eventually since she compromised on the six bedrooms. It was in that lab that she had made attempt after fruitless attempt to make a potion to cure him. It had never happened, though one potion she had created had turned out to be beneficial to sufferers of asthma.
Hugo was stirring against her chest, letting out soft little moans. Hermione groaned herself and gathered him in her arms. She locked the doors and turned out the light with a flick of her wand and carried Hugo up the stairs. She laid him down in his crib, singing a lullaby to the already drowsy baby
Rose was fast asleep when she checked on her, so Hermione dimmed the hall lights and went into her own room, leaving the door open in case Rosie woke up with a nightmare. She changed into her night dress, a soft flannel thing Ron had called her grandma dress, and slipped into bed. For once, the book on her bedside table was a novel. It was a spectacularly awful thing Ginny had told her was all the rage in book clubs because of the scandalous sex scenes. It was a guilty pleasure but it was entertaining. She read a chapter before turning off the lamps with a wave of her wand and went to sleep.
She was back at Hogwarts again. The worn stone walls and floor looked just like she remembered from the last time she had visited at the five year anniversary. The portraits and suits of armour were all the same. Everything looked right, only she could tell that something was off even if she couldn't put her finger on it.
The heels of her ankle boots clicked against the stone floor as she pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. Candles floated below a starry ceiling as she made her way between the tables. She paused just before reaching the head table and stared down at the giant bronze seal set in the stone floor. There was a giant phoenix carved into the metal, with words below it saying "On this spot on May 2nd, 1998, Tom Riddle, known as Lord Voldemort, was defeated by Harry Potter."
She looked up, staring at the walls. Something was off but what was it? She heard whispers behind her but when she turned, there was no one there, not even a ghost or a portrait...
The portraits. That was what was wrong; all of the portraits were empty. She frowned and turned to exit the hall, the echoing of her footsteps almost deafening. More whispers. Following the sound of the whispers, she made her way down the corridors of Hogwarts, past the endless expanses of empty frames. She wound her way around the castle, up and down staircases and through a secret passage. She almost lost the whispers once when a moving staircase swung while she was on it. She had to runsprint in order to catch them again but she did, though she had to run faster and faster to keep up. The whispers were getting louder as she climbed the stairs. It was becoming less of a whisper and more of someone speaking to her, though she couldn't make out a word they were saying. She bounded up the steps onto the seventh floor, going to the left corridor when all of a sudden, the voices stopped.
Hermione dropped to her knees, panting from the exertion of running through the castle, her own heart roaring in her ears. Finally, when she could breathe again, she looked up and realized where she was: outside the Room of Requirement.
"Who are you?" a voice said, whispering just behind her. She looked, but still there was no one there.
"Hermione Weasley," she said. "Who are you?"
"I am an old, old woman. I have seen millenniums pass by. I am the wind and the grass. I am the stone beneath your feet. Magic runs through me, given to me by so many they gave me life. I am... I am..." the voice said.
"You are... who?" Hermione asked.
"I am... Hogwarts," the voice said. "And you are one of my daughters, Hermione Granger, born of my magic."
Hermione couldn't speak, could hardly breathe at that.
"I know who you seek," the voice said.
"Wh-Who?"
"The raven man," it said. "He has the answers you seek."
"I don't know who the raven man is," Hermione argued. "I can't possibly be seeking this person."
"You do, child. You seek the one with knowledge to complete your task and you will find him," the voice said.
"Where? Where will I find him?" she asked.
"You already have," the voice said.
"What? I couldn't possibly!" Hermione replied. Suddenly, a door appeared in the wall ahead of her. She lunged at it, turning the knob and throwing herself inside to shut out the voice that made no sense. At first, she saw nothing, only an empty room with sooty, burnt floors and broken mirrors.
But then there was a face in the mirror besides her own, a face she hadn't seen in ten years. She whirled to look at him. Severus Snape regarded her coolly. He was different and yet the same. Tall and thin as ever with a strong roman nose, his hair was long, caught back in a tail at the nape of his neck. He had grown a goatee, which softened his appearance somehow. Overall he looked less harsh, the billowing, chin high robes replaces with charcoal trousers and a black turtleneck sweater. He was almost attractive.
"Miss Granger," he said, his voice velvety smooth.
"Weasley," she said. "I am a Weasley now."
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Very much so," she told him, frowning.
"I'm not," he said, reaching out and touching her shoulder.
Hermione was bewildered. "Can you help?"
"I already have," he said, Hugo appearing in his arms as Rose began to tug on her skirts.
"That's not the help I meant," she replied.
"Isn't it?"
The last memory of the dream Hermione had was of Severus Snape staring at her with a quirked eyebrow.
Author's Notes:
Thanks again to the wonderful Danb86 for editing this chapter and saving you from my awful spelling and grammar.
Updated 8/9/15 for minor spelling and grammar fixes