Disclaimer: So not mine. Pity.
A/N: *ducks ugly looking hexes* Sorry! I know it's been ages since my last update but life has been ridiculously hectic of late. In fact I am yet again without a computer so this update is coming from my phone. But fear not I've not forgotten the story or you. A huge thanks to each of you who has taken the time to review or added this story to your favorites. I can only hope you continue to enjoy.
Okay enough. On with the story.
- lil.
Hermione knew that there was plenty of time before she had to meet Neville by the castle entrance so that they could head to lunch in Hogsmeade with the girls. Her head was reeling from her tea with Minerva, if you could call it such despite the fact that she had scarcely touched her tea. Her emotions had already been rather off kilter, and that meeting hadn't done much of anything to improve them. She hated that Minerva was so adamant in her refusal to support her relationship with Severus. Hermione just wanted to be able to turn to Minerva like she had been able to when she found out about the death of her parents, or after the war when the castle was rebuilt and all the grief and pain finally crashed down on the young woman. Instead she was treated like a tramp and not a very bright one at that.
The portrait of Albus Dumbledore hadn't helped much either. Hermione was left with more questions than she had answers, and the almost nauseating feeling that she had been befuddled by a portrait.
Feeling the need to clear her mind and search her soul for answers she headed to the one place she knew she could find solitude and hopefully a sense of understanding.
When Neville skidded to a halt by the Entrance Hall where he was supposed to meet up with Hermione he was already running over ten minutes late, and the woman he was seeking was nowhere in sight. He wasn't terribly surprised she wasn't there, as punctual as most people assumed her to be, Neville knew that on occasion even people as responsible as Hermione Granger got lost in their own thoughts, or a good book. Besides, he had a fairly good idea of where she could be found.
Neville wasn't surprised to come out of the tunnel leading from the Whomping Willow and into the Shrieking Shack to find a fresh set of foot prints in the dust covering the rotting floorboards. He had seen them there before when first he had followed Hermione into her little hideout the year before.
Neville followed the footprints to a small room in the shack that had little else but a shredded and stained settee with a woman, dressed all in white and looking quite out of place, sitting atop it. He knew that her tea had gone less than stellar if she was sitting there. He wasn't entirely sure why she chose here of all places. He would have thought it had to do with Snape's near death during the last battle, if he hadn't seen Hermione sneaking away and disappearing under the suddenly stilled branches of the usually temperamental tree since their fourth year as students at Hogwarts. No, Hermione's connection to the place, he knew, went further back than that. He didn't think that anyone else had noticed her trips to the tunnel under the tree. The first time he had seen her disappear underneath it was the day the champions had been announced for the Tri Wizard Tournament. The rest of the castle's residents were in an uproar of excitement, or resentment in the case of some people. Neville himself had seen it as another exciting thing happening at the school that he was more than happy to stay a spectator for.
He had been collecting samples that day for an extra credit Herbology project he was working on when he saw a head of bushy hair disappear beneath the Whomping Willow.
At the time he really hadn't thought much of it, Hermione had been following Harry and Ron into danger since first year. It wasn't until the following year that Neville realized she was going there all alone. And it wasn't until this last year, after she lost her first child and had ventured to the shack seeking answers, that Neville was able to follow her and see just what it was she was doing disappearing under the still swaying branches of the tree. He had found her in much the same position then, hugging her knees to her chest on the worn and filthy settee that looked like it had been dragged behind a herd of rampaging hippogriffs. She had cried into his shoulder as he held her to him trying his best to be comforting, something he doubted he would have been terribly good at before Hannah's influence in his life. When her tears had dried she had simply thanked him for letting her get all of that out and then bid him goodbye, saying she needed to get back before Ronald came home to find her missing.
Hermione never explained to Neville what she was doing out in the old shack, and Neville never asked. She never asked him how he knew to find her there either. They never spoke of that day at all really. Neither had seen the need to talk about it. Neville had been there when she had needed the shoulder to cry on, and that was what had mattered. Talking was at times, Neville thought, unnecessary, and quite figured that Hermione of all people, would agree. It could be entirely over rated. He couldn't help the overwhelming curiosity that was plaguing him over it though. Why did Hermione Granger travel to the Shrieking Shack to get away, especially when she had been just a fourth year when he first noticed her little ventures under the old tree?
Neville looked at the distraught young woman, silent sobs wracking her body as she cradled her knees to her body. She shouldn't have been put through all she had, it was tragic, all she had lost, but to fear losing her mentor and surrogate mother seemed cruel after everything else. Neville did the only thing he could think to do and squished his tall lean frame between her too thin body and the arm of the settee. He pulled her body back against his and let her cry for the losses he couldn't even begin to imagine suffering.
Hermione sniffled, and with few other options at her disposal, wiped her nose on the sleeve of Neville's shirt, barely having to lift his arm towards her face to accomplish it. "Sorry," she muttered sheepishly under her breath.
Neville just laughed her off. "Oh, think nothing of it Hermione. If I had been squeamish about that sort of thing before, which I wasn't really, birthing classes with the midwife Hannah found has gotten rid of any of that. I mean, did you know what comes out with the baby? I kind of thought they came out all nice and clean looking." His face contorted and squished as he thought of all the gross fluids and things that came along with the birthing process, before he noticed the pain that flickered across Hermione's features. "Oh, I'm sorry Hermione. I shouldn't be talking about…" he stopped mid-sentence, not really sure of what to say.
Hermione took pity on the poor boy. He had never had the best of social graces; his minor inferiority complex, rather drilled into him by Augusta Longbottom, had always made him a bit awkward and unsure of himself when speaking. Hermione had never been bothered by it though. He was sweet and fiercely loyal to those he cared about. If he went off slightly on wild tangents when he learned something he found interesting, well…Hermione wasn't one to cast stones in that area. "Oh, Neville, it's fine really. Please don't feel bad. I'm such a wreck these days. It isn't your fault. You have been such a good friend," she told him, extricating herself from his grasp. Turning to face him she asked the question that had been on her mind for over a year now. "Hey Neville, how did you know to find me here? I never even told Harry that I came here to think."
Neville shrugged. "Some things really aren't that hard to see when you look. And that bushy head of yours back in fourth year was pretty easy to spot," he happily told her.
Hermione punched him lightly in the arm. "You mean to tell me that you have known I was coming here since fourth year?" she asked, surprised that he had known that long.
He smiled. "Well, it isn't that big of a deal really. Back then I just thought it was another one of those things that you three got into, I mean, there always seemed to be something," he started. "Besides, it really wasn't until later that I realized you were going there alone, and well I thought that maybe you were, well…Ithoughtyouweremaybeawerewolf…" he stammered, the last bit getting jumbled in his embarrassment.
Hermione didn't know whether to be offended or burst out laughing. That had to be the most ridiculous thought anyone had ever had, even for Neville. Then, as she took a moment to think about it she could maybe, perhaps – like, if she really stretched it – see where he would get such a ludicrous idea. She was missing from the common room and dorms a lot because she spent so much time off on her own studying in the library or out in one of the courtyards. And the boys had told their friends about their venture into the shack at the end of third year, and how Remus had used it to transform when he had been a school boy. Perhaps if she were a slightly observant and fairly skittish young boy, like Neville had been at the time, she might have come to the same conclusion. "Oh, Neville, you do know that I am not a werewolf don't you? Not that there is anything wrong with werewolves. It's people who are cruel, and monsters who simply have no control; but that's beside the point really. I still can't believe you thought I was a werewolf. I guess I can see why, but…" she shook her head and smiled at her still embarrassed friend. "Come on Neville. We should get going before Hannah thinks we've run off together," she joked, holding a hand out to Neville waiting for him to help her up off her seat.
Neville popped up and then helped Hermione to her feet smiling and half laughing. "Nah, Hannah would never think that. She knows I'd be too scared to ever even think of another woman, especially since the pregnancy. And we all thought you were scary. I will take your 'Petrificus' over Hannah's 'Stunners' any day," he laughed at the old memory.
They decided it made the most sense just to head straight out of the shack into Hogsmeade rather than bother with the tunnel. Hermione still hit both of them with a mild 'Scourgify' to rid them of the dust and grime that was clinging to their clothes after their visit to the shack.
Together they walked shoulder to shoulder up the hill away from the shack towards the little Scottish town that breathed magic and history from its cobblestone paths and the stone of its buildings; buildings that had seen so much and survived it all with the help of its people. Neville looked to his left to see almost a new woman beside him. Whatever she went to the shack to find he ventured that she had found it. Unable to keep his curiosity inside him any longer after so many years he finally asked, "Hermione, why do you go alone to the Shrieking Shack?"
Hermione took a deep breath and thought about how to best answer his question. "The shack holds truths. After third year, it just seemed like that's where the answers were. We learned of Sirius' innocence and Pettigrew's role in the deaths of Harry's parents. The world learned Remus' secret. I also saw first-hand the kind of man Severus truly was. He put himself between us and a werewolf that had already nearly killed him once. I don't know, after that, I just started to go there when I needed to clear my head of the noise and look for the truth in what was going on. Then during the battle…" she paused as the memory flooded her. "The battle was won in that shack. It wasn't won when Harry's curse hit that monster. It was won when one man placed the good of his world above himself and made the hard choices. He gave the son of a man he hated his most precious memories and the means to win the war. He gave him the answers. I don't know Neville, maybe none of it makes sense, but in there I feel like I can find some reason in the midst of the ruin," she tried to explain, thinking she must sound like she had gone round the twist or something. Maybe she had, but the shack had always served to still the churning in the pit of her gut and the spinning in her brain when things were falling apart.
Neville looked like he was really considering her words for a minute before he spoke. "Oh, that's cool. I like the greenhouses." It was the simplest response, and the Nevillishness of it broke the last vestiges of Hermione's sour mood and she burst out laughing.
When the two arrived at the Hog's Head, Luna and Hannah were already seated at a table in the far corner, chatting animatedly about something that looked to be making Hannah a bit nauseous, though, Hermione mused, it could have just been a bout of morning sickness. Hermione smiled warmly at Abe who simply grunted out an acknowledgement and went about his business, a response that his goat seemed to imitate oddly enough. Having grown used to Abe's gruff exterior Hermione shook her head and walked with Neville to meet the girls.
As they approached the table and caught the tail end of the conversation, it became pretty clear to Hermione that it wasn't morning sickness causing Hannah's coloring to wane. "…and of course they don't eat the whole baby," the tinkling tones of her voice and her sweet air did nothing to stop the bile from rising just a bit in Hermione's throat, as it seemed to be doing to Hannah for some time "it is really just interested in the heart and umbilical stump. But it's just fascinating how Muggles have mistaken the creatures and came up with the fairy tales about them. Really, a Raffliepick would be much better suited to children's stories and nursery walls than a stork, which of course we all know are really Strikenbillies. Oh hi Neville, Hermione. I was just talking with Hannah about Nursery decorations. What do you think Hermione?" she asked sweetly as Hermione took a seat beside her, Neville sliding in to sit beside his wife, placing a comforting hand on her thigh.
Hermione, long used to Luna's unique view of the world, chose to ignore everything but the question about nursery décor and be done with it. "I think flowers would be great for a little girls room, and maybe a wild jungle feel for a little boy's. Lots of plant's either way. Maybe a nice soothing yellow wouldn't go amiss," she said sincerely, smiling at Neville and Hannah who both looked at her gratefully.
Hannah and Neville both seemed to like Hermione's suggestion and all talk of nursery schemes and decorations, along with the apparently murderous animals mistaken to be storks was tossed aside.
The four friends spent some time catching up with each other while they waited for their food. By the time that four steaming Sheppard's pies were brought to the table and they had begun to eat it seemed that the small group had exhausted all the small talk they could fathom as everyone seemed to be denying their obvious curiosity about Hermione's new relationship. Hermione could see the questions brimming in her friends eyes and nearly had to laugh at how hard they were trying to avoid asking her. She finally lost it when Hannah broke a moment of silence with even more innocuous small talk.
"Madam Maulkin got a new sign for her shop. It's nice," Hannah was saying unenthusiastically.
Hermione dropped her fork on her plate and flattened her palms on the table. "Okay, enough" she said firmly, getting the attention of her friends, and a few other patrons at nearby tables. "You have questions. I can see you have questions. Better ask them now because Merlin knows, I don't even want to think what answers you would come up with on your own."
Neville looked abashedly into his butterbeer and muttered an apology, while Hannah took a forkful of creamy pie crust into her mouth as a distraction.
Luna sighed faintly before speaking. "Hermione, please don't get so defensive; it is rather rude you know. We just worry. I, for one, am happy to note the distinct decline in the number of Wrackspurts around your head. The professor certainly seems to make you much happier. I myself think he would make a far better lover than Ronald must have. He must be much more considerate and thorough. Don't you agree Neville?" she asked brightly.
Everyone was rather used to, and in fact fond of, Luna's different perspective on life, but the thought that anyone would ever consider Neville to have even the vaguest idea about the type of lover Severus would be, or Ronald Weasley for that matter, was enough to have the whole table in a fit of giggles, except for poor Neville who spat his butterbeer out rather spectacularly. "Wha…what?" he stammered, hoping he had somehow misunderstood his friend. "Please tell me you did not just ask me that?" he begged of Luna, his voice raising a slight octave.
Luna however wasn't one to be easily dissuaded from getting her answers when she wanted them. "Well of course I asked you, Silly Snorkack, why shouldn't you have an opinion on the matter? After all, you yourself must know something about it, what with Hannah's condition such as it is," she commented, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world for Neville to be able to derive how well one man could perform in bed simply based on the fact that he had gotten his wife pregnant.
Neville couldn't for the life of him see what that had to do with anything. The last thing he wanted to think about was Professor Snape sweaty and grunting on top of his friend, scolding her for not 'stirring' in the right direction, or forcing her to recite the six uses for semen in potions making, and gods did he hope fervently that the man did not collect his own samples if indeed there were uses for the stuff; but now that Luna had put the thoughts there Neville was having a hard time of ridding himself of them. He may have come to harbor a great respect for the older wizard, and actually thought that he was a smart, if not unconventional, fit for Hermione, but he most certainly did not, under any circumstances want to think about his old professor engaged in private affairs. Neville still had to fight off a slight blush thinking about his own private affairs, let alone those of others.
Hermione, who was actually entertained by the exchange between Neville and Luna, if not slightly embarrassed, decided to come to Neville's rescue and end the discussion. "Well, actually, Severus and I, we don't…That is to say we haven't…We never actually…Well, the two of us haven't really gone that far in our relationship yet. I don't think…I'm not really ready for that yet. Not after…" Hermione wasn't used to being so lost for words, but it wasn't often that one had to explain to friends that you weren't sexually active in your current relationship because you were rather afraid of sex as a whole. How did you explain to your friends that you were waiting to have sex because every other time had been rather painful, physically and emotionally? "Besides, I'm – Neville plug your ears," Neville did as he was told, deciding that humming would be a good measure as well. Hermione decided it was safe to vent her worry, without worrying about harming Neville's appetite further. "I'm not sure I would be very good at it, and well, like you said Luna; Severus does seem like he would make a better lover, and I am fairly certain he is more experienced than I am. Much more, really," she added a little embarrassedly.
Hannah brushed her husband's hands away from his ears to let him know it was okay now. Her three friends weren't sure what to say. It hadn't really occurred to any of them that sex had perhaps been a part of the problem with her so called marriage, or that it was now something somewhat of a problem with her and Severus.
Luna tilted her head to the side and seemed to ponder the flecks of dust in the sunlight streaming through the window before turning to look at Hermione with a big smile. "You know Hermione, in my experience with most men, and women for that matter, so long as the dominant partner knows what they are doing, everything works out just fine. Let him lead you. And if all else fails you can do as you always have in the past and read a few books on the subject. I have several you are welcome to borrow if you like, there are even some helpful notes in the margins of a few of my favorites," she said as nonchalantly as if she had been talking about charms texts or cookbooks.
Hermione looked to be seriously thinking about Luna's offer, knowing full well that after what she had been through during the war, the lovely blonde had decided to enjoy her life to its fullest whenever she could. Luna spent her time travelling the world in search of magical creatures no one else believed in. She made her living writing the stories of her travels for her father's paper. And somewhere along the way she managed to pick up several lovers, men and women, who allowed her to be just the woman she was without so much as a snicker behind her back when she talked about Blibbering Humdingers or danced wildly to music no one else could hear. Hermione wasn't sure that books were the answer to this particular problem though; a thought she couldn't believe she was having. Still it couldn't hurt to do a little research.
"Maybe," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I suppose it wouldn't be a bad idea to read up a little on the subject first."
Neville, who was rather red with embarrassment to even be on the fringes of this particular conversation decided that a change of topic was in order. "Good, now that's all settled," he said rather abruptly, doing his best to put an instant end to the whole sex talk. "Hannah and I wanted you to know Hermione that we think this whole mess with the Wizengamot is just insane. I mean they can't actually put you on trial can they? They already took your wand, what else could they want? Not that we really understand what was so important about your old wand anyhow, we all did a fair bit of darker magic during the war so surely…" Neville trailed off realizing Hermione's coloring had paled significantly.
Hannah winced a little as she rubbed her swollen belly automatically. "Sorry Hermione, I told him we probably shouldn't bring it up. I mean, like Neville said, we don't even really understand what's going on to be honest. It's just that Susan heard tell around the office that there might be a trial, and they took your wand, and well really it just doesn't make sense. What could they possibly want to put you on trial for? Not that you have to tell us you know, it's just, well…so unbelievable," Hannah rambled, feeling bad that it had been brought up, but still desperately wanting to know what was going on.
Luna looked to be temporarily lost far off somewhere as she fiddled with the bangles on her wrist. She knew what wand Hermione had been using. She recognized it immediately when she first saw her cast a spell with it. Luna had been at the wrong end of that wand often enough during her stay at Malfoy Manor. But she understood. Luna doubted her old wand would have worked quite right for her either had she still possessed it. She hadn't been at all surprised to find that when Ollivander had presented her with a new wand it wasn't holly and unicorn hair like her old had been. Luna's new wand, as the kind old man had told her, was as unique as she. Her wand was intricately carved aspen with a core of thestral hair, and while neither were very commonly used, and even more rarely used together, they made a wand that was a perfect fit for the unique magical signature of one Luna Lovegood. Luna couldn't help but wonder how many people were now using wands that no longer seemed to sing with their magic as they had before the war had ravaged more than just land and castles.
Hermione however, wasn't sure how she felt about anyone knowing that she had been using that wand, Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, all this time. And she wasn't happy that her possible upcoming trial was the subject of office gossip, which was a small step up from tabloid fodder. But she couldn't blame her friends. They were just trying to support her, she knew. Even if they didn't fully understand, she knew they just wanted to be there for her. Still it wasn't exactly something she wanted to discuss. But now that they had brought it up it was not likely to go away. Resigned to that fact, Hermione began to tell them at least part of the story. "Thanks for the support you guys. I'm not really sure how much you heard, but the wand I was using wasn't really mine. I acquired it during the war, and for some unknown reason kept it all this time. After the…well after…when they searched the flat for evidence one of the Aurors, an American with a little too much work ethic, ran some scans on the wand. The magic that's been performed with that wand is less than light. They still have to figure out who cast what, but even if they manage to get it untangled and sorted…" she took a deep breath and shook her head as if she could shake off the stain of darkness that had settled on her since before she ever touched that blasted wand. "Even if they figure out who cast what I could still be in trouble. I cast more than my share of dark spells. And I used all of the Unforgivables during the course of the war, and since," she admitted. She had never told a soul about her use of the Cruciatis Curse, not even Severus. She had always been too ashamed to admit what she had done. Hermione didn't think anyone needed to know, and if they did a dingy pub owned by Aberforth Dumbledore was hardly the place to inform them of that secret darkness. Someday it would all come out. Today wasn't that day though.
Luna seemed to be the only one at the table not ready to be sick at the thought of sweet Hermione Granger hating anyone enough to cast the curse. Avada's had been used enough by most during battle, it was kill or be killed and somehow despite its being one of the three Unforgivables it seemed to honestly be more humane than the dark twisted methods of killing your enemy that that Death Eaters preferred when time was available. It may take less magical strength to eviscerate someone, spilling their entrails across the ground, but causing that sort of death was not an easy task for the children of the light. A flash of green light and then nothing seemed a more merciful death. But none of them could have fathomed using Crucio on anyone, though Neville had to admit wishing he had had it in him a time or two throughout his life as he watched his parents fade away. He didn't know what to say. Hannah it seemed was also finding herself at a loss for words to express her thoughts.
It was Luna who managed to break the rather awkward silence in the wake of Hermione's admission. "It's okay Hermione. You don't have to talk about it. We truly don't need the details. We all love you, and honestly, none of us are without a little darkness now. Though have you noticed? It has done wonders for the population of Fratherbigs in England and Scotland. They've been mating more than ever these past years. I rather believe that the dark energy acts a bit as an aphrodisiac to them," she told Hermione, her anecdote served to lighten the mood a little in a way that was entirely Luna. Hermione had long since wondered if Luna's bubbly exterior and off the wall topics of conversation were simply a young girls way of dealing with the tragedies she had lived through.
Hermione picked lightly at her Sheppard's Pie as she mentally questioned the level of rudeness that would be associated with apparating straight out of the pub and into the back yard of her home. She really hadn't come to lunch to rehash the last few horrible years of her life in one afternoon. She really had just wanted to catch up with her friends, not that she could blame them for their curiosity and concern. "Thanks Luna, guys…I guess I'm just not entirely ready to talk about it all just yet. In all honesty I would really love to talk about anything else really. We haven't had the time to catch up in so long, and I know that's mostly my fault, but I would love to hear more about what has been going on with you all. I've missed you all you know," she told them sincerely, effectively closing down 'let's grill Hermione hour' and opening up the floor for more lighthearted topics like the woman that Luna had found herself so taken with on her last trip to Australia's Magical District outside of Sydney to search for Kwumplets in the Blue Mountains. None of them knew what on earth a Kwumplet was supposed to be, but all of them could understand the lilt in Luna's voice and the blush in her cheeks as she talked about her guide who rode her around on horse-back through the region while she was there.
The four friends continued to chat animatedly about Luna's adventures with a witch named Roanne, and then the upcoming Sunday dinner at the Weasley's that none of them wanted to miss. Of course they tried to weasel the name of George's lover out of Hermione, who stubbornly refused to budge. They laughed happily at the wild guesses being made to the man's identity for a while as they all finished their lunch.
After all their plates were cleared Hermione was feeling a little better than she had earlier in the day. She hugged Neville and Hannah goodbye and set off with Luna to Muggle London to do some much needed shopping, and maybe ask one or two discreet questions about the books Luna had mentioned earlier.
A/N: so what did you think? Good or bad reviews are coffee and this caffeine addict is desperate!
Up next Minerva drops in on our Severus. How fun. Girls night is coming up, and just how will Severus handle Luna's blunt perceptiveness shrouded in candy and light? And let's not forget that Sunday dinner is fast approaching. Any guesses as to who's going to crash the party?
Take care. Love you all.
Lil.