Chapter Three: The Girl Who Lived
Hermione could tell that a long period of time had passed when she again woke from her slumber. She was tangled haphazardly in her thin blanket, and the arm she was laying on had gone horribly numb. Lifting her head from the pillow, she could tell that ponytail she had pulled her hair into earlier that day had slipped sideways in her sleep. Not for the first time in the past year, Hermione was glad there were no mirrors around.
Shaking out her arm to find feeling, Hermione peered around the now much lighter Great Hall. Light was streaming in through the windows, and judging by the business of the hall she guessed it must be at least 9am, if not later. Hermione was surprised to find Minerva laying in a cot just an arm length away from her own, peacefully sleeping on her back, mouth slightly open. She looked odd, Hermione observed, without her glasses. Like a familial member rather than McGonagall herself.
Hermione sat properly now, stomach making itself known with a low grumble that vibrated up through her rub cage. Odd, she mused. She had not felt hunger for a long time, used to the emptiness that months on the run had left her with. She would have to be careful if now her body was ready to take on old ways, couldn't do with getting sick. She sorted her hair first, sending a number of wordless, wandless detangling and cleaning charms through her fingers as she ran them through her curls. Deciding they were controlled enough for company, she rose slowly and achingly from the low bed, and stretched. Her eyes, as if like magnets, snapped to the opposite corner. As before, deep eyes watched her calmly, and for some reason, Hermione was unable to drag her own gaze away. There was no animosity in the face, just sedate observation. Hermione noticed she had not once moved from her huddled position against the wall.
"She must be terribly uncomfortable." Hermione thought to herself. Dark eyebrows shot up into unruly curls, breaking the spell and allowing Hermione to divert her gaze quickly. Had she spoken out-loud again? Surely not. Perhaps madness was taking over, sepping into her from the dark witch herself. After all, Hermione didn't know how that cursed knife worked. Another snort, drawing her gaze back up to scowl at Bellatrix across the room. She felt magic and words bubbly up out of her, but before she could action them, a friendly face and mess of blonde hair appeared in front of her, breaking her staring match.
"Luna."
"Good morning Hermione. Would you like to join me for breakfast. You must be hungry." Hermione stared at her a moment, allowing her brain to calm and take in the words being spoken at her. "Come on. Let's step away from the head teacher before you catch her bedding alight."
Looking down, Hermione realised magic was crackling, orange, between her fingers. She quickly shook it away, ashamed at the lack of control she had been displaying the past 48 hours. A soft hand, gentle in her own, grasped her and led her away, out through the hall and into the main entrance. The large double entrance doors stood open, allowing Hermione to see out onto the grounds. She let out a small intake of breath. In the morning light, the destruction looked worse somehow. Statues and building blow up and scattered. Blood splashed, staining the stones.
"Breakfast first Hermione." Luna said gently, placing a plate in her hands and turning her shoulders. Hermione suddenly noticed the spread laid out in front of her. Cereals and breads and fruits. She didn't know what to take, not remembering the last time she had choices like this. Luckily, Luna seemed to understand, loading the plate up for her. Hermione's stomach gave another uncomfortable squeeze as she watched the food build on her plate. Looking up, Hermione realised she was being watched by to orb like eyes.
"Winky?" she exclaimed happily.
"Miss Hermione!" the elf squealed, jumping onto the table and then across to Hermione, who held her free hand open, palm up to accept the elf who reached for her with her two small hands. "Oh Winky is very pleased to be seeing you."
"Me too Winky, I'm so happy to see you well."
"Winky was terribly frightened, Miss Hermione, terribly frightened."
"I bet you were. But I can see you have been so strong. Are the other house elves... are they okay."
"Oh yes, misses Hermione, all safe in the kitchen. No one knew to come to us there." Winky giggled, and Hermione could not help the smile that spread across her face. "I am very happy to be giving you foods and breakfasts again."
"Me too Winky. This all looks, great really." Hermione did not think the elf's face could handle the smile it now held.
"Off the table elf!" shouted one of the aurors by the door, and Winky's head dropped immediately to her hands, as if she were to be hit. Then quickly hopped to her previous position behind the table.
"She was greeting a friend." said Hermione fiercely.
"She was on the table with the food, Miss Granger. I for one do not want filthy creatures need my food."
"Considering the circumstances, Auror, I would hold your tongue if you knew what was good for you."
"Don't threaten-"
"I quite agree." Shacklebolt's booming voice filled the entrance hall from where he stood in the doorway.
"Minister-"
"I believe you were speaking with Miss Granger."
The auror turned slowly back to Hermione. The interruption had allowed her flash of anger to die down, and she held a measured gaze with the auror.
"We have made enough enemies and fought enough fights to tide us over for a long time, Mr.."
"Wolpert, Ma'am."
Hermione hesitated for a moment, "a relative of Nigel?"
"His father. He is safe and at home once more." Mr Wolpert answered Hermione's question before it could leave her lips, "You cannot imagine the worry his mother felt when we realised he had stayed."
"I'm relieved to hear he has gone home, really Mr Wolpert." they exchanged a shy smile. "House elves serve us well here at Hogwarts. They are hard working members of our staff and deserve to be treated as such."
Mr Wolpert considered her for a moment, then his face softened and he turned to Winky. "My apologies, elf. I am tired and stressed, but that is no excuse." Winky said nothing, turning her eyes to Hermione instead.
"The war has hit us all hard. Friends?" she asked, and for a moment felt almost child-like again. The man smiled, nodding his head, then turning back to his post. Hermione turned back, surprised to find the plate of food in her hand, and was about to turn to Luna when she felt a large hand grasp her shoulder. She turned suddenly, food flying out sideways and wand pointing into the side of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He did not react to her, instead freezing the falling food in midair, and allowing his eyes to follow Luna and she deftly collected it back onto Hermione's plate. "Kingsley!" she cried, out of shock than anything.
"Sorry, Mione, I forget the world you have lived in for the past months. My mistake." He smiled warmly, then without giving her time to refuse his apology, steered her by the elbow into the hall. "I was hoping we could speak. I wanted to catch you without your usual entourage"
"Of course." she said, smirking at his words. She summoned a chair and, calling a nearby cot to her, transformed it into a second so they could sit, facing one another. Once settled, she looked at him expectantly.
"I must say, you handled yourself well out there. True words and manor of a politician, I dare say you'll have me out of a job in no time."
"Don't tease me."
"I mean it. Who better to have help shape the country one day than the brightest witch of her age." Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling none-the-less, and began to pull parts of a muffin Luna had loaded onto her plate into pieces. "But Im not here to recruit you just yet."
"Glad to hear it. I would like at least a shower first." She winked at him. Kingsley chuckled.
"How are you?"
The question threw her. She had expected him to be straight down to business. She had never known him any other way. Yet she supposed previously she had been a child, and now she sat before him a women, war criminal and heroine. What a strange contrast to the girl who had last conversed excitedly with him about wand laws all that time ago.
"I don't know how to answer that question just yet. I'm okay right now. Sore, tired, stressed as Mr Wolpert. My brain is going a hundred miles an hour."
"What's different there." he smiled cheekily. She returned it.
"And you? New Minister."
"Not for long. This isn't the role I want really, but happy to place hold for now."
"You're brilliant Kingsley, why doubt yourself."
"I've never been one to make the final call Hermione, just make sure everyone is making an informed decision." She looked at him curiously. He only smiled back. "Which is why I am here actually." She raised her eyebrows in expectation. "I understand you have been informed of some of the Order's spy's."
"Briefly." she said, eyebrows furrowing.
"Severus was a surprise to me. I have yet to see the memories myself, only know what Mr Potter has shared, but I am eager to view them myself. I always knew, something was not quite right. I wish I could have appreciated-, why didn't Dumbledore tell us..." Kingsley's voice wondered off, as it his words had run out. Hermione nodded.
"I know. I have been keen to see them too. I actually thought you were referring to Miss Black." Her body shivered as she said the name, but she kept her eyes on Kingsley.
"I know. Hermione, I am so sorry for whatever you have experienced. I know you do not understand it yet, or perhaps ever. I do not know what happened, or when you came into contact with her."
"Only less than a week ago." Hermione interjected. "When she tortured me."
Kingsley face hardened, and his gaze shifted to the corner where she knew the woman was. "I didn't know."
"You have to understand, Minister, I am having a hard time processing why so many seem to be protecting her when they do not know the whole story. Spy or not, we have seen the pain she has caused, and some of us have experienced this first hand." Hermione held her arm unconsciously, tightening over the painful skin. Kingsley, if he noticed, did not draw attention.
"Dumbledore confided in us, Professor McGonagall and I, not long after Sirius's death. He showed us the steps she had taken when she was not much older than you, to begin to secure information for the order. It was dangerous for us to know, of course, but perhaps Dumbledore suspected his time would come soon."
"At the hands of Severus."
"That doesn't quite fit for me either." Kingsley said, leaning towards her. "Miss Granger, you know more than many of us, have observed and experienced so much. Not that I don't trust Harry and Ron's perceptions of the war, but you have a way of making connections that I can only cherish in a time of confusion. I am asking for your help."
"My-, with what?"
"I would like to understand the war and all that has happened. I want to make informed decisions about the people involved, Miss Black and her family included. I want to be able to make plans to build up the Ministry and wizarding Britain in a way that can empower us. The country needs to heal, Miss Granger, but that's not going to happen without proper guidance." Hermione was sure she would be blushing if she wasn't so pale with exhaustion. "I am setting up an advisory party, we will meet by the end of the day. I would like you to be part of this."
"Are you sure, Minister, than Harry would not be more-"
"I've spoken to him already. He agrees with me, other than Severus's memories, there is nothing that he knows that you do not know already. He himself assured me that you actually guessed much about his fate before he could feel it himself. Mr Potter is tired Hermione, and would like to be able to be a teenager, at least for a little while, before the aftermath of this all kicks in again properly."
She allowed herself to think this through. Hermione, too, wanted time to be a teenager, but she supposed her time had long ended on that. The second she had left her parents, now strangers, home, she had made that decision for herself. Hermione also could not deny that being part of the rebuild, not just of Hogwarts, but of the future she would like to live in with her peers and family, was appealing to her. She looked at Kingsley, and he smiled, apparently seeing the decision in her eyes.
"I will owl you with details later today. Thank you, Hermione." He placed a hand once more on her shoulder, before turning once more. She sat, absently picking apart her food and staring into nothingness, when shuffling feet pulled her focus back to her surroundings. Luna was moving slowly, balancing at least 10 plates and number of glasses in her arms. Hermione placed her own on the ground and jumped up to help her.
"Ah thank you, I dont think I could manage them alone."
"Luna, you're a witch." smiled Hermione gently, and using her wand, levitated the plates and glasses in front of them, bringing her own to join them. Luna blinked a couple of times, before grinning at Hermione.
"Wrackspurts." she stated, twirling her hands around her head, as if this made the world of sense, and headed further into the hall. Turning, she indicated Hermione to follow with the plates.
"Where are we going? This isn't all for you?"
Luna did not respond, instead crouching down to next to a hufflepuff student Hermione briefly recognised as a couple of school years below her, and watched as Luna rearranged their pillows to allow them to sit up (a difficult feat in the temporary beds), then handed them a plate of food and a glass of water. This repeated many time, Hermione watching silently as her friend gently rearranged the injured and helped them to start on their food. When they reached McGonagall, the woman shot up as if woken by Weasley fireworks, reaching around for her glasses and sliding them onto her face with a grace Hermione had not seen in the head mistress before.
"Goodness, Miss Lovegood. For a moment I thought you had come into my personal chambers! Ah Miss Granger, awake too I see. What time is it?" Hermione cast a tempus spell.
"Just before 10, Minnie."
Luna's eyes snapped to Hermione in shock, causing Minnie to chuckle. "Well that sleep was well needed. I suppose I have you to thank for transforming that chair into a bed."
"That would be me, professor." said Luna, quietly, and Minnie smiled.
"You have much appreciation from me and my back, Miss Lovegood." Luna smiled. She took one of the plates and glasses from the air, and handed them to Minnie, who had transformed the bed back into the chair to eat. With a smile, Luna turned.
Hermione followed Luna as she took off again, only realising a step too late where they were heading. "Luna." Hermione halted, almost falling off balance with the abruptness of her stop.
"They don't bite, Hermione." Luna's voice was resolute, but her face was kind, and pity flashed through her eyes. Luna had heard her screams, Hermione recalled, and saw the aftermath.
"I'm not-"
"Stay here, I can do the rest." Luna took two plates, and walked across the invisible boundary line that kept the Malfoy-Black family secured in the corner. She watched carefully as she placed the plates on the ground, next to the cot where Draco sat, staring into his hands. He looked exhausted, Hermione thought. She felt a pang in her chest for him. She knew this was not what he deserved. Her childhood tormentor or not, she would never wish upon anyone what Draco had been through in the past couple of years. He couldn't help who his family were. A murmured conversation pulled her attention to Draco's left. Luna was crouched down next to an uncomfortable looking Narcissa Malfoy. She was looking at the plate in slight distain, yet her gentle voice said words that clearly Luna appreciated, for a second later, the young blonde gripped Narcissa's forearm, keeping contact for a moment with the shocked woman, before turning back to Hermione. She said nothing as she took the final plate, and headed back, this time to Bellatrix.
Hermione somehow found renewed courage, and watched her. Bellatrix looked up, giving Luna a small smile before reaching for the plate. Luna, clearly had her own cautious thoughts, merely handed the plate to the older witch before taking a step back. "Thank you." she heard her say. Hermione took a sharp intake of breath. The voice, once child-like and shrill, was now low and calm. Eyes again met, and Hermione, now closer, realised they were hazel green. Not the black she had experienced boring into her, inches from her face, not too long ago. The memory flashed across her vision, and before she could stop herself, Hermione turned on her heel, heading back into the entrance hall and into the court yard, leaving her plate levitating where Luna had left her.
The cold air could not have been more welcome, and Hermione drank in the feeble sunlight that peaked through the blinding white clouds above. She couldn't keep this up, if this was her fate. It was exhausting. The whiplash of emotions as she stumbled through the day, a day she had only been engaged in for a couple of hours so far. She hadn't even heard from Kingsley yet about a meeting for this evening. She closed her eyes for a second, allowing her other senses to take over.
She had done this a number of times when they had been in the tent. On those long boring nights when she had been keeping watch, a book as company, sometimes that bloody radio that she didn't think she would be able to listen to again for a long while that lulled Ron into sleep. She would close her eyes, engulf herself in the darkness of those hiding spots, and allow her senses to take over. She would hear every distant creek of a tree trunk as it swayed in the winter winds, or the crackle of leaves under a doe's hoof. She would smell the soil, the damp, the boys. This practise allowed her to feel a little more settled, and a lot more at home, wherever they ended up. Hermione thought she might even miss it, right now, in the chaos of an all too quiet castle in a state of disrepair. She would have to go camping this summer, she thought. Perhaps the boys would want to go, and Ginny, George even.
Just like that, the pang of grief hit once more, and she was enveloped in despair that seeped into her chest. Eyes fluttering open, adjusting to the light, she looked up at the sky. Hermione had never been one to be religious. Logically she couldn't make sense of religions, however right now she hoped there were people up above the other side of those bright clouds, laughing and loving, together in peace. She thought of Fred, not lonely without George, but at peace in the knowledge that one day they would be reunited, and for now he could create chaos with Sirius and Tonks, and hopefully annoying Severus Snape just a little bit. She smiled to herself. Walking forwards through the court yard, she headed for the bridge that was not mostly fallen. She stood on the edge, looking out at the expanse of the grounds. In the distance she could see thick reels of smoke where the quidditch pitch once was. The stands must still be on fire, she thought to herself. Well, no better place to start, she supposed. Taking cautious steps, Hermione picked her way across the crumbling bridge, and, successfully landing two feet on the grassy verge on the other side, made her way to the grounds. She walked carefully, aware of the debris of war around her. Broken wands, fallen trees and branches where even nature had joined the fight. A trolls club, a right shoe from someone, friend or foe. They would start making a list of the casualties today. Those they had been able to find and recognise anyway. She knew Neville was out here somewhere, with Oliver Wood and a number of other volunteers, still looking for bodies of those who had not yet returned home. She had overheard some of the aurors discussing it on her way out the castle.
Now she was close enough to see the burning wood of what was left of the quidditch stands. The smell of smoke was thickening, and she could not see the whole pitch through the haze. Sliding her wand from it holster, she walked around the outside of the stand, trying to decide where to start. She froze. Out of the thick smog she saw an outline approach. A woman around her height with angular features and wild, untamed curls, blowing in the winds.