DISCLAIMER. None of the characters used are a creation of mine. They belong solely to JK Rowling.
Christmas had brought with it a gentle reprieve for Hermione. The week following the party with the Gryffindors had been filled with sickening displays of affection between Sirius and Marlene which hadn't annoyed Hermione in the least but caused her a deep ache she hadn't felt in a very long time. It had been Sirius this time around who kept trying to get her to talk to him. But Hermione wouldn't have any of it. It was better this way.
She had truly believed he felt something for her too. How could anyone have faked such a look of complete heartbreak like he had had on his face the night she had left running away from him.
A nasty voice inside her head kept telling her she had been nothing but another conquest for a charmer like Sirius. She had been a fool to give away her heart to him. And yet another part inside her told her it wasn't his fault anyway. Hermione was never meant to be here. She didn't belong. Sirius was meant to be with another. Meant to love another.
Not her. Not Hermione, a misfit. A lonely little girl in a world she could never call home.
Her desperation was driving her over to the edge. She hoped against hope to see Harry. The deepest part of her mind had slowly begun to dismantle the roots of her faith in him turning up and this kept tearing her up day after day. The need to see him had consumed her.
The holidays weren't all that special. She had spent Christmas Eve with her family dining the most delicious delicacies she had ever tasted.
Truly, the house eleves kept outdoing themselves with every passing feast.
She had spent the better half of her holidays cooped up in her hidden library where she had once again flung herself into research. She had practiced various new spells, sometimes with Papa helping her too.
Being with Papa had consoled her to a great extent. Being with him rekindled something within her. The love he had for her could simply not be a lie. It was there and living proof of her existence.
But the nagging voice inside her never did quieten.
A few of days before school was to begin, Peter dropped by for a little while. The duo listlessly passed away the time in their treehouse by themselves.
'Definitely not a good idea to spend a winter morning in the middle of a forest.'
Hermione chortled, 'You never were the smartest.'
Peter winked at her, 'Only the handsomest and the fairest!'
He dragged her back to the grounds, 'Mi, you are going to love this.' He said to her, 'I found it in one of those magazines Remus keeps getting for Sirius. Seeing how much you love Muggle stuff I thought you'd enjoy it.'
Hermione looked at him quizzingly and squealed in unbidden zeal upon seeing Peter enlarge a bicycle for her.
Calling for Blinky immediately, she requested the elf to clear away the snow and create a makeshift track for them. The two took turns riding the bicycle.
Hermione, it seemed, couldn't stop laughing, not when Peter would just not the get the hang of the it.
Rab and Papa had followed the sounds of their jubilous cries shortly into the evening and had lit a fire and settled around to cheer them on.
'Its not my fault! How did they even come up with this? And it's supposed to he entertainment. It's a whole lot of trouble, I tell you!'
Rab smirked at the helpless boy, 'Quit grumbling, Pete. Mi has beaten you a total of eleven times. How'd you like your friends to know?'
'Urgh! This is a deathtrap, I give up!'
Papa laughed heartily and patted Peter's back as he sat down beside the old man who very graciously provided him with a bowl of broth.
Hermione continued going round in circles and feeling the wind beat against her face. She didn't mind the cold. Not in the slightest. How could she when it made her feel so normal. So mundane. And oh so reminiscent. Her father used to take her to the colony park every Sunday so they could bicycle or practice skating. Sometimes it did feel like a different lifetime. In a way it was.
Once inside the manor, Hermione hugged Peter tightly and whispered in his ear, 'I needed a little cheering. Thank you, Pete.'
Peter replied, softly, 'I told you I'd be with you no matter what. I know about Sirius. And trust me he's being the biggest git in the world.'
Hermione gasped and let go of him, 'What do you know?'
He smirked at her discomfort, 'Please. You two aren't very subtle, you know?'
Hermione felt her cheeks redden as he went on, 'Whatever it is with Marlene, I bet it's some stupid logic in his own little world to go after another bird when the one you really like is right under your nose.'
Hermione nodded, unsure. 'Anyhow, I really do appreciate this. You can't begin to imagine know how happy a silly little thing as a bicycle made me feel today.'
'Oh, maybe you should show me some of it by knitting me a sweater. It's highly offending. Why don't the rest of us get one and that prick does?'
She laughed, 'He wears the stupid thing? It was only meant to be a little trinket to show him he's cared for.'
'He wears the decrepit old thing paired with the scarf and everything to every damn Marauder meeting which, let me inform you, is four nights a week,' he gagged and disappeared in green flames.
Smiling to herself, Hermione walked back to the parlour and joined Rab and Papa.
'Mi, you're going to come of age soon. Have you thought about what you wish to do with your life?' Papa asked.
'Oh,' she hadn't thought about it at all. Her plan was simple. Join Voldemort. But surely she couldn't go around parading that. 'Perhaps I could travel for a while.'
'I've been looking into a betrothal for you. However, your brother has concerns regarding it.'
Hermione looked at Rab who merely shrugged. 'Ah, I see..'
'The Oakswood heir would make a formidable match for you.'
She bit her lip.
'But I haven't yet begun to pursue it. I'd like to give you a chance before I make any claims.'
She looked at him gratefully and smiled, 'Papa, marriage isn't for me. I'd like to research and perhaps even join the Unspeakables someday.'
Papa nodded and held her hand, 'This old man merely cares about your well being. I know you are unlike the young women of your age. You would find the sanctity of marriage restraining. I shan't force you.'
She hugged him lightly and let him drop a soft kiss against her forehead. 'You are the jewel of this family, love. You have the purest of the hearts.'
Before leaving the parlour entirely he stopped beside his grandson and ruffled his hair playfully, 'Always my little boy.'
Hermione rose with the morning sun, looking out at the forest snow laden forest. She had no idea what lay beyond it.
Snuggling into a cashmere cloak she slipped out her room. Her padded feet thrummed against the wooden floor as she proceeded downstairs, a tiny journal in her hand she had gotten used to carrying around. It held variations of spells she was working on by herself. As a research of her own. The plethora of spells her library offered her were archaic and had tremendous scope of improvement in the current times. She had already covered the most basic of them with Papa and was working on a few for her own good.
A rather peculiar spell which could help you point to a given person wherever he may be in the world.
Singing to herself, Hermione sipped her tea as she worked. She could faintly hear the house elves working in the kitchen. They manor remained deadly quiet in the wee hours of the morning.
Rab was the first to join her. Still clad in his nightclothes, he sported extremely disheveled hair.
'My, my I have never seen you look so disgruntled before.' Hermione laughed.
Rab grumbled and poured himself some butterbeer.
Her nose crinkled, 'Why don't you try something healthier in the morning?'
'I am not a child, Mi.' He grumbled, picking up a scroll of parchment and going over the transactions of the previous month. 'The business can be a dreary affair. Merlin knows I've had enough of it already.'
The siblings sat in a comfortable silence, Hermione scribbling away in her journal and Rab revising his notes for his upcoming meeting with an American heir. Neither one realised how late it was when Rab gathered his things, banishing them to his chambers.
Casting a quick charm, he muttered, 'It's nearly ten. Time for breakfast, Mi. Let's go.'
Hermione tucked her journal in the pocket of her cloak and followed Rab into the dining hall.
'Where is Papa? He didn't appear for the morning tea either. You don't suppose he's taken ill again?'
Rab grunted and called for Blinky, 'Can you please go check on Papa for me, Blinky and request him to come to breakfast?'
Blinky bowed her head and vanished. The duo hadn't even turned around when she reappeared, crying hysterically, 'Master Lestrange.. Master is.. Missy Hermy, oh..'
Panic overpowered Rab's nerves and jerked him awake. He ran up to the second floor, climbing up the stairs with fervoured steps, Hermione close behind on his heels. Pushing open the door to Papa's chambers, Rab rushed to his grandfather's side.
Taking a hold of his hand, Rab muttered, 'No, no this can't be .. I can't feel his pulse.. Merlin.. No.. Mi, I can't feel his pulse. Mi!' He yelled as his heart plummeted down the depths of despair.
Hermione's feet rooted her to her spot. Feeling a lump in her throat, she choked and merely stared at the frail old man looking as peaceful as he always did. His brows puckered together as if in deep contemplation of the workings of the universe, his lips set in a feathery smile. His arms resting beside him, as if balancing him on teetering edges.
This couldn't happen to her. Not now. She had escaped death. She had run away from all the pain. Then why was it the only person who could bring out the sun in her desolate life had been taken away from her? Must she always go on like this? Always on the lookout? Was there no rest for her? Had she not been through enough?
Had she not lost enough?
Heaving in a deep breath and steadying her heart, she steeled herself and with shaky movements she stepped closer to Papa.
This wasn't a natural passing. She had smelled the decay in the air the moment she had entered the room. Sniffing the air around him she came up with nothing. She flattened his hand and looked closely, eyeing every little detail and tuning out the stifled sobs of her brother.
But there was nothing. No evidence of anything unusual.
As a distant memory hit her, Hermione reluctantly touched his chest, peeling away his undershirt. Dreading the sight, she gasped as she saw it. Clear against his ghostly white skin were two tiny dots of the blackest black as if etched onto his skin with pincers.
'Rab..'
He didn't seem to hear her. He didn't seem to hear anything beside the sound of his world come crashing down on his head. There was nothing keeping the Darkness at bay from them anymore. Papa was gone. The one pillar of strength he had always looked up to. Their father in every sense. And he was gone.
'Rab,' she called out again, 'Rab.. please..'
She got up and reached out to him, holding him steady as dry sobs wreaked his body. She let him nestle closer into her side and the pain emanating from him reach out to her. He clasped onto her, begging for his shaky limbs to find support in her; his wails echoing a harrowing sadness as if he had been stripped of all hope and yet not a single tear fell out of her eyes. Hermione remained stoic, unmoving and unfeeling.
How could she not when she was only so used to death? She had seen more than enough of it already. Death didn't scare her. Not anymore. Her grief was as palpable as his but there was no trace of it in her eyes. It lay nestled beneath the many walls she had constructed around herself, all of them coming back to life now that she had once again been thrust into the middle of war.
For this is exactly what it was.
Rodolphus had made his move.
She saw as Rab rose up to his feet and faced the wall. His face creased and curling his fists he brought them down against the wood.
Hermione cried out, 'Rab, please don't!' She fought him off, grabbing onto his hands and stealing them away, struggling to free him of the anger that had set home in his mind. His arms wailed around, threatening to set free his rage.
She muttered a spell and healed his knuckles as he slumped down against the wall, his throat parched and the strength in his knees giving out.
Hermione wished she didn't have to bring this up at an hour like this, 'Rodolphus did this.. he used the Lacfilio curse..'
Rab wiped away roughly at his eyes and nodded tightly, bursting out into a humourless laughter. His shoulders loose and his face reddened, he looked up from beneath his hooded eyes at his Papa.
'That bastard! I'll peel his skin away with my bare hands. He did it on purpose. That article.. it was done on purpose. He's set the Ministry against us. He knows they won't trust us. He's alienated us, Mi.'
Hermione's heart broke. Another victim. Another man who'd let his rage get the best of him. She couldn't let him succumb to his pain.
She wheedled away and went to snuggle beside Papa, breathing in the scent of old parchment and cigar smoke. She lay her hand on his chest, the warmth still there enticing her into hoping that maybe he was still here. She willed his heart to begin beating but there was no cheating Death.
And Hermione knew it the best.
The forest held no enthrall for her that day. The violet hues of the night sky didn't enchant her. Only the dreary cold of the winter moon managed to soothe her and balm her aching marrows.
She hadn't let go of Rab's clutches on her hand the entire day. She only understood it all too well. He needed her to ground him. He needed to make sure she wouldn't be whisked away as easily as Papa had.
It was a short service. The Sacred Twenty Eight had been notified. A few Ministry officials. And some friends. But Hermione paid no attention to them.
Her mind wasn't chaos. It was blank. Empty of all thought. She had come full circle. Faced her oldest friend once again.
She had been a fool to have been lulled into the safety Papa had provided. He had loved her.. cherished her.. called her his jewel and had been taken away.
Like everyone else she had loved.
Thumbing the flowers on the edges of her hat she had made all those years ago, she felt the irony of life settle in on her shoulders. The wildflowers he had brought to life were still fresh. Still breathing. And yet he wasn't. He was gone.
Gone.
He was now a part of the wind that threatened her hair to fall out loose. He was a part of the sleet that fell steadily on the soaked up grounds. He was a part of the glow of the fairies that bridled along the trees. He was a part of the still waters the little oak boat housing his body floated upon. He was a part of the fire that set his mortal body aflame.
He was everywhere and yet.. nowhere. He had died and taken with him any traces of innocence left in her heart. The embers of the fire, now so very distant, burned bright in her eyes as they sought out the solace of the night.
There were no stars. No laments. No songs of bereavement. No tears. Just silence. A profound silence that had blanketed her from the rest of the world.
She raised her eyes and looked into the solemn face of her brother, his lips set in a tight line. His grief had pictured him a canvas of grey and black, scampered away from the world.
Squeezing his hand gently, Hermione stared at her friends huddled around in one corner, sheltered under a tree from the raging downpour. Still untouched. Unharmed.
She saw Sirius glance her way and James smile ruefully at her.
Her eyes turned away.
There had been enough distractions.
The clock chimed in at midnight but the Lestrange children remained fixed to their spots in the parlour.
A heavy silence enveloped them. No lights adorned the room. No glowing embers in the fireplace. Just the cold and moonlight that flooded in from the window.
They hadn't just lost him. They had lost him from every tiny crevice of their life they shared with him. He had left them with a gaping wound. Like a severed limb.
Rab stared at the red wine pooling in the goblet he held. Grief surged to the forefront with every bated breath he took.
'Funny thing, Death is,' he croaked out into the stillness that surrounded them. 'Flesh and bones one day. Memory on another.'
Hermione remained lying on the couch, the skirt of her white dress dangling away as her fingers kept skimming the soft petals of her flowers. Her eyes stared at the ceiling, unseeing.. her mind a million years away.
'It takes.' Ginny. 'And it takes.' Draco. 'And it takes.' Ron.
'I keep seeing him everywhere.' He mumbled.
'You mustn't let it get to you, Rab. He's just.. slipped into the next world.' She knew she had to be the anchor. Rab was only just going through this for the first time. He had no recollections of dead eyes and gaunt smiles as Hermione did. 'One day we'll find him waiting at the gates.'
Making no noise, Hermione rose up to her feet. Walking quietly to his side she nestled into his lap.
Fisting his shirt in her hand, she felt him rock her, lulling her into the arms of sleep. But she didn't want it. She didn't want any of it.
She hummed under her breath, echoing ethereal sounds.. calling onto the roots of the afterlife, the chords of her lament sending out waves of unbridled grief. 'Elegia,' she whispered.
She brought his hand to his face and touched the emerald on his finger, 'He's right here, Rab. He's here to stay. If only you let him.'
Disentangling herself from her brother, she dropped a kiss against his brow. With unsure steps, she glided out of the parlour. Not a single foot outside and she heard the fireplace come to life.
Hearing the clicks of two pairs of boots hit the wooden floor, Hermione froze in her tracks.
'Brother.' She heard Rab mutter, no emotion in his voice.