AN: Hello, fanfiction and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter, but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it, please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!
Can You Take the Jump?
Chapter 33
"There is no easy way to say this." Dumbledore linked his fingers together on top of his great mahogany desk and clenched them tightly. "I'm terribly sorry to be the one to tell you that at 2:03 AM tonight, Alphard Black passed away from a stroke."
...
BAM! BAM!
Pinky apparated into the Room of Requirement, only to see that his Mistress's regular dorm had been turned into a gym. Various bars with plates and dumbbells lined the racks along the mirrored walls. Ropes, balls, and a single bench occupied the center, but Pinky found his new mistress in the far corner of the room, punching a dangling sandbag.
With her hair in a hasty ponytail, and a compression sports bra with a pair of tracksuit bottoms. She was slick with sweat, hyper-focused on the sandbag in front of her as she sent her fists flying with impressive speed and strength.
"Argh!" She grunted as she whipped around to kick the sandbag with immense force causing the sandbag to jangle from its chains and swing dangerously.
When she turned to get a drink of water, she finally noticed Pinky standing in the middle of the gym with a large clothes bag. His Mistress hadn't bothered to put on a glamour charm. The discoloration under her eyes was so intense that it made him let out a small gasp. Her skin was a sickly colour despite her physical exertion, making the few freckles she had on the bridge of her nose stand out a lot more than usual. She looked emaciated and far too skinny. Pinky suspected she hasn't been doing much except hit that sandbag.
"What do you want, Pinky?" she asked, ripping off her gloves and throwing them on the floor.
With the gloves gone, Pinky could see a diamond bracelet dangling from Hermione's wrist, her magic inhibiting bracelet. With those on, Mistress likely hadn't taken Dreamless Sleep potion, which also meant she hadn't slept. Pinky contemplated scolding her for wearing that dangerous piece of jewelry but decided today was not the day for such talk.
"Master Alphard chose this dress robe for you, Miss." He laid a simple and conservative dress robe on her sofa. It was nice, the fabric was soft and expensive. "Master Alphard wanted you to wear it for his funeral." Pinky's voice was hoarse from the crying he'd done the previous night. His giant eyes started tearing up with giant tears.
When Hermione saw the tears welling in the elf's eyes, her expression softened as well as her tone. "Thank you, Pinky."
"Is Miss okay?" The little elf asked worriedly, fussing over his new master. He picked up the towel on the bench and dabbed the sweat falling off her face.
"I'm fine Pinky."
Bang bang! There was a loud and aggressive knock on the door.
The elf jumped, "Pinky will answer the door."
"No," Hermione commanded. "Don't."
"Hermione!" Sirius's angry voice could be heard through the door. "Let me in!"
Pinky glanced at his new mistress, who continued to stare blankly at the floor, drinking her water.
"Miss—"
"No, Pinky. Leave it be."
"HERMIONE!" After several more bangs on the door, the two occupants in the room heard Sirius slide to the floor with a loud thump. "Please let me in. I just want to talk."
Hermione closed her eyes and turned so that her back was facing the door.
"Please," Sirius begged, his voice breaking.
Silence stretched for a long time until they could hear Sirius finally get up from his spot.
"I'll see you at the funeral…if you'll even be there."
Pinky stared at Hermione's defeated position for a while.
"Pinky will help miss get ready later, but Miss will take a walk to cool off before the funeral." Pinky held up his hand to stop any further argument. "If Miss says Miss is fine one more time, Pinky will snap his fingers and transport her outside to force young Miss to walk in the cold with the little Miss is wearing."
"Fine, you do the glamour charm then." She agreed since she didn't have the energy to fight the elf any longer. Pinky snapped his fingers.
She grabbed a jacket and took her mandated walk along the Hogwarts grounds, not bothering to check her reflection, trusting Pinky enough with the glamour charm.
The late January weather was surprisingly warm as if spring decided to drop by for a brief visit.
It was nice.
She hated it, but it was something Alphard would have probably appreciated.
"I love you." Those were his last words to her, and hers to him. At least she got that. At least.
She stopped at the bridge at the main entrance/exit of the castle. There was a part of her that wanted to run away. Leave this all behind. It was so tempting, and it would be so easy. Lay low until she turned 17 and disappear. Fuck the future. Fuck the world. Fuck obligations and promises.
Or maybe she could just fall off this bridge. It was such a far way down that it would be instantaneous.
A creak at the end of the bridge interrupted her invasive suicidal thoughts. She turned her head to see the Bones family's signature red hair in the distance.
"Hermione." Heather Bones had puffy red eyes when she greeted her with a long hug while her husband stood next to them awkwardly.
"Go ahead to the castle, I'm going to talk with Hermione for a minute." Heather excused her husband. The young girl looked tired, but she always looked tired. Other than that, she looked remarkably fine. Unphased even.
"I was half expecting you to see you sobbing your heart out. You and Alphard had a special bond."
"Expecting? Or wanting?" Hermione turned to face the view, the wind blowing on her face.
"Wanting." The healer admitted. "Hoping?"
"Sorry to disappoint."
Except for the occasional sniffle from Bones, the two stood next to each other in silence.
"I tried convincing him to come back to St. Mungo's for intensive treatment, but he insisted on being here." Bone's voice barely raised above a whisper. "Do you know why?"
Hermione remained unmoving.
"It was all for you. If he died in the hospital, we would have been forced to call his family. They would have taken his body immediately and you wouldn't be able to attend the funeral. You wouldn't have been able to say your goodbye."
Bones watched her silence and unfazed response. She felt anger boiling in her towards Hermione's stagnant heart and dry eyes.
"You could have stopped it. You are a Seer." Bones breathed heavily. "You should have stopped it."
"Probably." Hermione thought to herself, unaffected by her healer's enraged accusatory tone. The 33-year-old Hermione Granger that stood next to her frowning furiously obviously agreed with her.
"He thought of you as his daughter! You were his world!"
The appalled look on Bones's face reminded Hermione of the look Ron had on his face many years ago.
Monster.
…
Dumbledore stood at the podium speaking about loss and grief as the entire student body, staff, and Alphard's previous colleagues listened.
It was an impressive gathering, Lucius assessed. He was invited as the Board of Governors' representative. He never knew much about Alphard Black, nor did he ever have a class with or taught by Alphard Black, but it was clear from the attendance that he was not a hard person to like.
Tears, sniffles, and outright sobs could be heard from the crowd. Lucius managed to maintain a relatively solemn look on his face while his eyes involuntarily searched for a familiar redhead. He quickly spotted her annoying twin sister near the front with teary eyes, next to Sirius Black, James Potter, who was bandaged up quite heavily, and a scrawny blonde boy who also looked shaken. But not her.
"Now," Dumbledore's eyes landed on Sirius. "I'd like to call up Sirius Black to give the eulogy. Mr. Black, are you ready?"
The young Black approached the podium robotically. According to the will, the wizard had left his young nephew almost everything in his name, thus the duty to give the eulogy followed.
He looked tired, his eyes rimmed with red, fidgeting with his speaker's notes. He cleared his throat.
"Hi everyone." The idiot had forgotten to amplify his voice, forcing Professor McGonagall to step in and do it for him.
"Sorry. Hi, everyone. My name…my name is Sirius. Sirius Black. I'm uh, going to give the uh, the eulogy."
His nervous eyes searched the crowd, probably looking for the same person Lucius had been searching for only moments ago. Lucius expected him to be disappointed as he'd been, but when Black's searching eyes stopped, his neck snapped to the direction his eyes landed on.
Unmoving hazel orbs stared directly at the young Black. Unlike everyone else in the crowd, she had dry eyes, no running nose, and no frown. She stood there with a blank expression on her face. In the sea of emotion and instability, she stood there like a rock: dependable, rational, and sturdy.
All she did was give Sirius Black a small nod and a slow blink, but it was as if she had spoken the world's most encouraging speech because everything about him changed.
"My first memories of Uncle Alphard were during our family's annual gatherings. He would arrive, immediately sit next to the liquor, and down glass after glass of amber liquid. I loved it. Once he got drunk enough, he would gather us kids and tell us embarrassing stories about all the seemingly-perfect adults. By the end of the night, he would be incorrigibly drunk, yelling at various members of our family with incomprehensible slurred speech. This would repeat every year. I thought he was a bitter alcoholic with great stories. So, when I had the opportunity to visit my uncle in St. Mungo's, years later, I honestly expected to see him hiding away in some sleeping patient's room sipping away at a hip flask. In my imagination, he would be screaming at colleagues and patients by the end of the day, stumbling around and vomiting until someone forced a sobering potion down his throat."
The Gryffindor 5th year looked up from his piece of paper to look at Alphard's hospital colleagues and gave them the smallest smile.
"You can imagine my surprise when I saw him smiling, talking, and actually enjoying himself while being 100% sober. It was the first time I'd seen him without the glassy look in his eyes. That's when I realized that this was what my uncle looked like 355 days of the year. He wasn't some drunkard; he was just another person who hated my family as much as I do. He was me, just older and less good-looking."
A low murmur spread in the crowd, but there was a small smirk on the Mudblood's face which encouraged Black to carry like he couldn't hear them.
"After I found out he was sick this year, I decided to finally ask him why he even bothered to show up to the family's events when he clearly hated being there. Do you know what he said? He said he was there every year for me. He told me, 'At least for one day in the year, I bear the brunt of your mother's animosity so that you don't have to.' I never realized until he said it, but Uncle Alphard redirected my mother's disappointment in me to himself at every opportunity."
He folded his speaker's notes away and looked to the crowd with misty eyes.
"When no one else in my family even bothered to blink, my uncle showed me kindness that will stick with me for the rest of my life. So, here's to Alphard Black; my beloved uncle."
"A great healer!" someone in the crowd shouted.
"A wonderful teacher."
"A good man." Dumbledore saluted.
"A loving fath—friend."
"And a man with one hell of a taste for expensive firewhiskey. Goodbye, old man, and thank you."
…
Hermione wandered aimlessly while everyone said their goodbyes to the open casket. She had no desire to see him lying in that cold marble box.
When she turned the corner, she froze at the sight of Walburga Black standing in front of Dumbledore.
"Mrs. Black, the funeral isn't even finished yet, I'm sure you can wait just a few more minutes."
"I am his next of kin, Dumbledore. You should be happy I allowed my brother's body to stay here as long as it did. My brother's body is being removed as we speak and will be placed in the Black Crypts, along with the rest of the ancestral Blacks. He should be honoured that I even allowed him to be buried there after he's been tainted by all these mudbloods and blood traitors."
Unable to keep it in, Hermione let out a gasp.
"You can't!" She ran up to the terrifying woman. "You can't put him there!"
The woman looked her up and down before sneering.
"You should teach your students more respect, Headmaster."
"Alphard never wanted to be buried in the Black Crypt. He hates every single one of his ancestors! What kind of rest would he find being buried there?"
"And the child continues to speak."
Hermione muttered something foul to the woman before turning around and running back. Hermione ran back to the grounds where the funeral had been held only to see an empty field. The elaborate coffin was gone, she was too late.
"No." Her heart constricted.
She turned and faced the remaining students who hung around to cry or mourn silently. Lucius Malfoy stood in the crowd, speaking lowly with his fiancée, who dabbed tears from her eyes with a white handkerchief.
"Did you see the elves who took the coffin?"
Malfoy snapped his head up.
"Malfoy, did you see the elves who took the coffin?"
"Watch your tone Mud—" Narcissa scoffed.
"Yes," he nodded.
"Why didn't you stop them? You should have stopped them!" Hermione was starting to panic now. If she couldn't intercept the elves before they reached the Black Crypt, there was no way she could get him out of that place. He deserved a better resting place. He deserved better. Period.
"Miss Evans," Lucius had never seen her so unhinged before. Unlike the stoic watcher she'd been during the funeral, she was panicking. He wanted to reach out, console her, ask how she knew him, why she knew him so intimately to feel so overwhelmed.
"My family is taking my uncle's body back to our ancestral burial ground. Why would we stop that?" Narcissa shook her head at Hermione's preposterous question.
"Hermione?" Lily who overheard the commotion jogged over to her sister.
"Oh my god." Hermione gripped her hair. The Black Crypt was most likely blood-warded, she would never be able to enter. She also didn't have the license to Apparate.
"Hermione, he's gone, but it's going to be okay." Lily hugged her, but she wasn't comforted at all. Plans and ideas were formulated, only to be squashed, one after another. She wanted someone to blame. Someone other than herself. She wanted someone to take the fault. Alphard's beautiful life ending like this was too terrible to fucking comprehend.
"HOW DARE YOU SHOW UP HERE!" She ripped herself out of her twin's embrace and pointed her wand at Lucius. "YOUR FATHER KILLED HIM! ABRAXUS KILLED HIM!"
"Don't think that your father got away with it," She threatened. "I know Abraxus died in August with a strange strain of Dragon Pox, virulent, but only contagious in its beginning phase; the same one Alphard had. Instead of self-isolating and just dying alone like he fucking deserved, he had to call in a Healer…one of pure blood and one whose family that was his son was conveniently going to be married into."
Everyone around them gasped. Whispers spread amongst the students, the news had caught fire and it would burn through the school quickly if Lucius didn't act now.
"I'm not sure if this is how Mudbloods are taught to grieve, Miss Evans, but making up false accusations to make sense of his sudden passing will not be tolerated! I will not stand my family being defamed like this!"
"False accusations?" She shook her head. Deep inside, she knew Lucius had no hand in Alphard's death or his father's selfish last decisions, but she didn't care. She wanted to make a scene. She wanted to point the finger at someone other than herself.
"Expressing grief, you say..." she let out a lifeless laugh. "No. I'm not grieving. What can grief change? If I cry over Alphard's body, will my tears seep into him and pump his dead heart? If I scream and cry, will it call his soul back into his body? NO! So, I am not grieving, I am furious that the son of the man who murdered my best friend stands at the sight of his funeral acting as if he gives! A FUCKING! DAMN!"
Rage and despair poured out of her. The air around them trembled, causing a shift in the atmosphere around them.
"Move back." Lily pushed everyone surrounding Hermione back. "MOVE BACK!"
It'd been years since Hermione lost control that Lily had forgotten the raw power her sister contained. The air around her twisted and turned creating a shield-like force, the grass around them trembled, and everything that wasn't rooted into the floor and lighter than a person started to float.
"Argh!" Hermione gripped her wrist. A bright light emitted from her wrist as the diamond bracelet was sucking her magic out, burning white-hot against her skin.
Suddenly everything dropped, and everything returned to normal. It was a brief bout of magic, but it was terrifying.
Lily stepped towards her sister, but Hermione stopped her.
"NO!"
Her voice was different; darker, deeper, yet desperate. The Obscurial. Being a dark parasite that fed on the trauma caused by despair, a funeral was the perfect location for such a creature to threaten to escape its host body.
"Stay back."
Hermione ignored her sister's cries and staggered away toward the forbidden forest, increasing the distance between herself and the students. Once she felt like she was a safe distance away, Hermione fell to the floor on her knees.
"Let go." Something within her coaxed. "It'll be so easy. Just let go."
"No." She whimpered. The slush made from the melting snow vibrated and the branches trembled. Icicles fell off the trees that surrounded her, but her magical forcefield protected her before any of them could touch her.
"You have so much power within you. This flimsy bracelet is a construct of man, but the power you were given is given by magic itself. Let go. Release yourself."
"NO." She was firmer this time.
"All this to save a friend who hasn't even been born? For a future that is doomed?" Her obscurial tutted. "I've been with you throughout this life. No one truly appreciates you for all you're doing. Morality always comes with so much struggle but giving into corruption is so easy. So freeing. I'll give you power like you've never seen. Voldemort? Lord? No, you can be the new reigning god."
"Enough!" Hermione grabbed her wand and waved it to a tree. She hadn't thought of any spell or made any specific wrist movements, but a magical force shot out of her wand, exploding against the trunk of the tree creating a hole straight through the giant ancient tree. It creaked then groaned, but with the base of its structure gone, the skyscraper-like plant started teetering.
"Fuck."
Hidden critters scurried from the tree while others jumped off its branches to another tree. The still forest suddenly erupted with movement as every creature in the vicinity ran to avoid the falling tree.
The wood cracked and splintered, and the giant tree fell, opening a hole in the tree-covered sky and flooding the forest floor with light that hadn't previously been there. The path which the tree had taken to fall had caused significant damage as well, snapping smaller trees in half and breaking the branches off larger ones.
"Fuck!"
She glanced around the forest, warry of its protectors. The centaurs, the acromantulas, and many others would come to find her if she stayed any longer.
She glanced at her bracelet. Her magic and the diamond bracelet had taken much of her magical reservoir. She could feel her dish of magic nearly empty. She needed to get out of here and she needed to find Alphard—it was her primary objective. She didn't have a solid plan, but she couldn't just sit around. She wandered into the forest in search of an escape plan, when her eyes landed on something.
Why would she need to apparate if she could just fly?
…
Fear was a funny thing.
Hermione had faced Death Eaters, Voldemort, werewolves, dementors, and much more, but her silly little fear of heights was another one of those prevailing annoyances from her previous life that had leaked into her current one. She gripped the hairs of her thestral as she flew over the Scottish Highlands, only to let go for a brief second to recast warming charms on herself.
"I told you they have a great sense of direction." Luna's whimsical voice floated into her ears. "They're an excellent form of transportation. I'm very proud of you for remembering this idea."
After what felt like hours of flying, her skeletal horse swooped down and finally landed in an empty playground, close to her destination.
It was already dark and a Tuesday of a random week in February, but that didn't stop the muggles in London from bustling around and hanging out with friends in pubs. She uncurled her stiff fingers from the thestral's mane, and the poor creature shook its head from the discomfort of her grip.
"Sorry," she whispered. "And thanks."
She gently dismounted the horse and calmly entered the muggle streets, pretending that she hadn't just been on a flying horse that was invisible to most people.
Despite 13 Grimmauld Place being shrouded by notice-me-not charms along with many other types of wards, it wasn't hard to find her destination. She'd spend many nights in the depressing house during her youth as Hermione Granger.
It was a guess to assume the Black Crypt was here, but Purebloods tended to be buried near their ancestral home or their homes in general. The Malfoys had a plot of land in Wiltshire where Lucius Malfoy had been buried, along with the rest of his ancestors, after he died in Azkaban. She'd seen the Notts' graveyard when she raided their ancestral home with the ministry. Even the Potters were buried in Godricks' Hollow after that fateful night in 1981.
She glanced at her wand but decided against it and tucked it into her back pocket. She was only 16, which meant she had the trace on her, but wandless magic near an ancient magical home like the Blacks would be hard to trace, dampened by the magic that resided in the building for generations.
She spoke the correct password for the hidden house to appear and went around the back. Unlike their muggle neighbours, the Black House was a magical plot of land, making it much more expansive than it appeared on the outside. The backyard was large enough to have a garden party with up to a dozen guests comfortably. Therefore, by central London standards, it was a massive estate.
The backyard was beautifully maintained. Kreature was clearly young and well enough to keep up with the property. The grass was lush and green, despite the winter, with beautiful and exotic plants that decorated the sizable landscape. However, it was the very back of the property where Hermione's attention was focused on. A large marble stone with some type of encryption carved into it was on the ground, surrounded by beautiful, yet difficult-to-grow and expensive fire lilies.
The special flowers weren't only a display of wealth and opulence, but also served as a great alarm/protection system. The sentient flower had special properties. When unknown trespassers approached the flowers, the petals burst into colourful flames, alerting the owners that an intruder had visited their valuable possessions. The flames burned so hotly that the trespassers burned the closer they approached.
Only one family of magibotanists in the world knew how to grow and plant these lilies. No one knew how the flowers differentiate between owner and trespasser, not even the magibotanists themselves. From what she understood, the secret to cultivating these flowers was kept within the main family and a massive trade secret. In fact, Hermione had never seen so many of them.
This was going to hurt.
Hermione stepped towards the stone plate with trepidation. The lilies in the perimeter burst into flames, causing her skin to start to tingle with warmth, then heat, and soon after, burn as she approached closer and closer to the Crypts' entrance. Her feet staggered as the pain intensified. Her skin was starting to blister and peel as if she was actually on fire, although no flames could be seen.
Her teeth that had previously been biting her tongue to prevent the scream let out a gasp and a scream. "Let me in!" She cried, trying to reach closer and closer to the Crypts. "Alphard!"
Lights turned on in the Black House as Hermione's screams grew louder.
"LET ME IN! AHHHH!"
"What in hells—" Walburga Black stepped outside to her backyard. "A mudblood on my property? A MUDBLOOD?!"
Lady Black pulled out her wand and pointed it at Hermione, who was crumpled on the floor, crawling towards the crypts in hellish agony.
"NO!" Sirius ran through the back gate and grabbed Hermione around the waist. He grimaced in pain at the heat radiating off of her, although he wasn't affected by the flower themselves. He threw her over his shoulder and ducked down to avoid his mother's spell, only to see Dumbledore standing omnipotently in front of the woman with an expansive shield around them.
Sirius ran to a safe distance from the flowers where Hermione would be safe, but she started thrashing.
"No! No! NO!" She screamed, punching, and kicking him. "I was so close! I was so close! I could have gotten to him!"
"You would have been burnt to crisp!" Sirius placed her on the grass floor and held her down by her shoulders. "You would have burnt to death! I've seen it happen before!" He shouted. He swallowed a gasp at his first real glance at her. Large areas of her skin were burnt and raw, pus was oozing out of some of her injuries. A chunk of her hair had been singed off revealing the burns on her scalp. She smelled horrifying, with second-degree burns covering her, but she didn't seem to care as she kept fighting him to go to the crypt again.
"STOP!" Dumbledore literally froze her, putting an end to her hysterical behavior. "Mr. Black, please take Mrs. Evans to St. Mungo's for treatment and keep her far away from any floo connected fireplaces. I will join you shortly, after a chat with Madame Black."
Sirius glanced uncertainly towards his mother, who stared at him with horrified speechlessness. Walburga may have known about his preference for muggle culture, but it was the first time she'd seen him touch a muggleborn.
"Mr. Black, now."
…
The second Sirius entered St. Mungo's, he was greeted by a group of healers, most of whom had attended his uncle's funeral.
"How bad, Healer Bones?" The healer in the middle asked.
"Most of them are second degree, sir. Some even third. If we're going to heal all the burns, we will need to reverse the immobilization. There will be a lot of screaming, and knowing Hermione, she'll try to run back. I would normally suggest putting her in a magically induced sleep, but—"
"No. We cannot risk her sleeping. She must be awake. Pain numbing potions will have to suffice."
"Sir, her burns are extensive and right at the nerve. Pain numbing potions will not be enough to hold her over. She's just a kid." Another healer countered.
The healer named Bones frowned, she glanced at the diamond bracelet glowing from all the magic it had consumed from Hermione. She shot a look to Belby with a fierce expression, but he kept a straight face.
"No sleep. That's final."
"Why not?" Sirius asked.
Most of the healers jumped, having forgotten that Sirius was there.
"That's none of your business, kid," Belby remarked, but he looked down at Sirius's burned hands. "Dumbledore didn't say anything about your injuries. Prewett, heal this boy's hands. And his ear."
Sirius's hand went up to his ears, not knowing his ears had been burned as well, but they must've briefly made contact with Hermione when he hoisted her over his shoulder.
"Anywhere else, kid?" Belby asked.
"I-I don't think so." Sirius stuttered, trembling hands touching various parts of his body to check. His clothes on his shoulder were singed, but otherwise, he was fine.
"Give him a calming potion as well."
A healer—Prewett, Sirius assumed—pulled him out of his seat and took him to a separate room, but before the door was fully closed, the healers must have reversed Hermione's immobilization spell because her screams echoed in his mind.
…
"Hey, nice room." Sirius opened the doors to Hermione's private room in the Janus Thickey ward.
Bandaged like a mummy and smelling strongly of eucalyptus and other types of healing potions, Hermione sat on her bed, ignoring the world.
"I have bandages too, but it's really just on my hands and a bit on my arms. Kind of reminds me of those boxers, though I'm sure if I punch anything right now, I'll be the one crying in pain." He joked, slowly walking into the room.
She wasn't showing him her face or her eyes, but Sirius was glad she wasn't screaming in pain anymore.
"I'm glad you're okay. The healers tell me that you'll make a full recovery." He sat on the seat next to her bed. "I'm going to talk. You don't have to reply, but at least listen. You really scared me. The past few days…you've shocked me and scared me more than I could possibly express. You first show up in the Shrieking Shack during the full moon, and then you're an animagus. After we receive news of my uncle, you disappear, only to show up at the end of his funeral. I go searching for you only to see that you exploded a tree, and then I find you in the backyard of my house, burning alive?!"
He looked up to her crouched position. She sat there unmoving.
"Do you know how terrified I've been for the past 48hours for your life?"
Sirius's resolve to remain angry melted when he saw her dead eyes. His hands trembled as they reached over and gently cupped her face. No matter how emotionless she was with others, she never looked at him like this. Her eyes were dark and unfocused. The spark and fire that had been there in the past were gone. There was always life in those eyes when she looked at him, but now, even though she was looking right at him, it was as if she was looking through him.
She looked as dead as Alphard had looked lying in his casket.
He felt his heart constrict.
"I will get him out." He promised. "I will get him out of the Crypts, and he will get the resting place he deserves. I promise."
He kissed her forehead and quickly left the room.
…
Walburga sat in her husbands' study, turning her husband's Black family ring around her hand. Funny how her husband, who did nothing for the family other than sitting around drinking expensive Firewhiskey and sleeping with every other whore he found in Knockturn Alley was the one who could wear this ring.
It was a man's ring, gaudy, inelegant, and boisterous. Oh, how she wanted it.
The ring was only allowed to be worn by the men in the Black family. If a female wore it, it would shrink until the ring cut off blood circulation, causing the finger to die. A man would have to come and remove the ring from her finger if she were to put it on.
The ring itself had no power to it, but what it represented was why Walburga desired it so ravenously. Power and prestige. The one who wore this family represented the top of the family. The person of highest honour. It was the ring that opened the vaults within their Gringotts vaults. It was the ring that stamped the wax seals. It was the ring that opened the Black Crypts.
Walburga stared at the clock, wondering when her child would come around to steal the ring. He would eventually figure it out. He was a blood traitor, but he was no imbecile. She wandered around her husband's study, reading his books, his records, and opening his drawers. She found a piece of lingerie that was definitely not hers.
To claim that it was a shock would be a lie, they did not have a faithful marriage. She often searched for release through alternate means as well, but she did find it immensely distasteful that her husband would bring a whore into their home.
"Mother."
She looked up to see her first child standing at the doorway with a glare on his face. So much harder and angrier than the face he had when he was looking at the Mudblood that dared enter her property. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen such a soft expression on her son's face. Her eyes traveled to the bandages around his hand and his right ear.
"You would not have been burned if you hadn't associated yourself with filth."
"Keep Hermione out of this," Sirius growled.
"Is that her name? I recognize her, the girl from the Dueling Championship." She mused. "I must admit, even though she won, I was quite shocked to see that a mudblood found her way into my house. Have you been sharing secrets with your playthings, my son?"
"Let's quit the chatter, mummy dearest. You know why I'm here."
Walburga held up the family ring. "Ah, yes. The ring. The flowers may not burn you, but to get into the Crypts and remove my blood traitor brother, you need this."
"You hate him. Why do you even want him in the Crypts with the rest of the family?"
"Regardless of what he was to me, he was not disowned, therefore a member of this family. This family has traditions, though I know you like to scorn them."
"Traditions? Oh, you mean using our birth as an excuse to treat others like trash because of things that are out of their control? Yeah, I scorn them pretty badly."
"Your disgusting Gryffindor traits are showing, Sirius." She tutted. "If you are here to steal a vital symbol of our family to help your mudblood whore, then you should act accordingly and tread a lot more carefully than you are right now."
Sirius snarled. "Nothing I say will make you hand that ring over to me for free, so name your price."
She smiled. He was certainly no imbecile.
"This summer, we will have a very special guest visiting our house. You will be present and on your best behavior. You will not sprout a single syllable of muggle filth in his presence, and you will obey his commands."
"Who is this…guest?" Sirius asked, suddenly feeling nervous.
"No more information. You will agree to take a Wizarding Oath, and then, and only then will this ring be yours." Sirius didn't immediately jump at the chance. "I guess this ring is not important enough for you. I guess she isn't important enough."
There was a gut feeling that made Sirius want to back out. He knew it was a trap. Whoever this guest was, there was no way he was going to be some muggle-loving idiot that Sirius could get along with, but Hermione's dead eyes appeared at the forefront of his mind.
Hesitant and wary, Sirius stretched out his hand to his mother.
"Fine. We have a deal."
…
Sirius knocked on Hermione's room, but no one answered. He slowly opened the doors to see her entire family, even Petunia, passed out in various chairs and sofas. They had come to mourn with Hermione, but her bed was empty.
He softly clicked the door shut. He walked up and down the empty corridors of the hospital but Hermione was nowhere to be seen.
"Sirius Black?"
The redheaded healer that had helped Hermione stood next to the complimentary snack table, stuffing her face with muffins. Her Healer's robe had the word, Bones, embroidered on the breast pocket.
"Hermione's not in her room."
She looked alarmed, "She's not?!" She chewed quickly, almost choking. She started running towards her bed, but abruptly stopped midway, causing Sirius to nearly run into her.
"She's probably at the tree." She realized. "There's a big tree in the back, behind the greenhouses. You can't miss it. It used to be her spot when she was younger. Alphard even installed a swing for her."
The healer looked sad, overcome with memories of his dead uncle.
"Thanks." He started walking away, but she called him again.
"Could you tell Hermione that I'm sorry? I said some things…"
Sirius frowned; he could tell from her expression that the 'things' were not sweet consoling words.
"Tell her yourself."
…
Hermione sat on her swing, her head resting on the rope. The cold winter air had frozen her to the bone, but she didn't care.
She picked at the seams of the thick leather band that went around the rope of the swing. Alphard added it to the swing when he realized how much she tended to rest her head on the rope and how raw her hands got when she would sit here swinging herself for hours.
She remembered a time when her feet couldn't touch the ground when she sat on the swing. They'd argued about his mistake of putting it too high up, but he always brushed off his complaints, claiming how she'd grow into it.
Now her foot touched the floor with ease.
She touched the engraving on the tree. AB+HE. They'd argued about that too. She remembered the grimace she gave, thinking it was weird and cheesy. It was something couples did, and it was lame.
"It's only lame because couples break up, yet their initials are forever engraved here. The difference for us is that we are never breaking up. You, Hermione Evans, will always be a part of my life. Till the end." He promised.
"Till the end." She held out her pinky towards him. It was childish, but it meant more than an Unbreakable Vow to them.
The crunching of snow told Hermione that someone was coming long before they were in front of her.
"I didn't know." He croaked.
Severus Snape was never someone with good posture, but he stood there with his back and shoulders hunched forward. His hair was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, and his skin pale. He hadn't been at the funeral, he hadn't been at school, he hadn't been anywhere.
"I didn't know." He repeated.
"Get out of my sight, Snape."
"I didn't—"
"Know. Yes, I heard it the first two times." Hermione clenched her jaw. "Go away."
"Hermione, please. I really—"
"Stop. Just fucking stop." Hermione shook her head. She hated him. If she'd been there, sitting by Alphard's bedside she would have seen the seizure and she would have helped him faster. She could have saved him.
Till the end.
"I-I promised him…but because of you, I couldn't—" She clenched her teeth together.
Severus fell to the floor, his knees on the ground. "I DIDN'T KNOW." He sobbed, crying at her feet. He gripped his hair then punched himself in the head repeatedly, saying the same three words over and over again.
"AHHHHHHH!" Severus screamed. "AHHHHHHHHH!"
Hermione watched his pitiful state. She didn't turn away, rather absorbed his self-loathing with a sick sense of gratification. Severus slammed his fist on the ground, sobbed, and hit himself again. Harder this time. Harder again. Again. And again.
She didn't comfort him, she didn't console him, she didn't do anything for him. She stood there because that was all she could bring herself to do for him. Despite how much Severus had hurt her, shunned her, avoided her, she couldn't walk away.
Finally, Severus crouched into a fetal position on the snowy dirt floor, exhausted from his grief.
He looked small, smaller than when she first met him when they were 9. Back then, Snape had been beaten and starved by an abusive parent, but he was never broken. He looked pretty broken to her now, just like she was.
"Go home to your mom, Snape. Be there for her. Comfort her, be her rock, and give her the kindness and compassion that you never gave me, but I know you once had in you as a child. Once she is better, come back. Come back a better man, the one Alphard would want you to be."
She sat on the swing facing away from him. She could hear him whisper those three words as if repetition would somehow make it true. But both she and Snape knew it was a lie he was telling himself. All those letters Alphard had sent him, all those notes he passed in class, and attempts to talk and meet. Those words were his excuse, his justification, and his sanity.
Eventually, he pulled himself off the floor, trudging back to the hospital to floo home.
A while later, she heard footsteps coming back. Thinking it was Snape once more, she whipped around to scream this time. Only for her words to get caught in her throat at the sight of Sirius standing there.
"Nice spot, but aren't you freezing?"
I'll get him out, I promise.
"S-Sirius did you…" She trailed off, fearful of his answer.
"Of course, I did. I promised." He answered like it was the simplest thing in the world. Her heart stopped, then it swelled.
"Healer Bones mentioned that this was your spot, memories filled with Uncle Alphard. The place where you came to rest and relax. I think would be a good place for him to rest as well. What do you think?"
The lump in her throat prevented her from speaking, but even if she could she wasn't sure she would be able to express the emotions she was feeling. Instead, she ran to him and hugged him fiercely.
"Pinky!" Sirius called out. "I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your elf."
The loyal creature popped into existence, levitating a beautiful black marble coffin. Hermione hadn't taken the time to appreciate the beauty of the coffin before, but now that she felt Alphard could finally be at peace, she appreciated the luxuriousness of his coffin.
"He always liked pretty things." She muttered to herself.
Sirius and Pinky carefully dug the grave and lowered Alphard's coffin into the ground.
"Hermione, would you like to give a few words?" Sirius asked.
"I haven't…I don't know…" Her voice was hoarse and raspy.
"Just speak from your heart, love." Sirius stood beside her, holding her hand. "He'll understand."
She gripped his hand and reached out to Pinky to hold his.
"Alphard," She bit her lower lip. He could see her mind turning, thinking of what she needed to say. "I…I love you and…I'm going to miss you, so mu-ch."
There was a wobble in her voice.
"And… fuck."
She turned away, unable to keep it together. The burning in her eyes finally relented and dripped the tears they held back. They were the first tears that had fallen for Alphard. Even when she was being burned by those damn flowers, she hadn't shed a single tear. Throughout the day, she hadn't cried, but now her walls had fallen. The emotions that were leaking out slowly were so raw and real.
As the tears dripped from her eyes, Sirius thought it beautiful, like small crystals falling from her eyes. It was a weird feeling, along with being heartbroken, he was also happy for her. He was happy that she was finally releasing the emotions that she clearly had pent up deep within her.
"I'm sorry." She whispered. "I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so—"
Her words became incomprehensible due to her sobs. The emotions were now flooding her, but she continued to mumble incoherent words together. She shook as the cries overwhelmed her frail and injured body. She fell to the ground and began to crawl towards the open grave, but Sirius wrapped his arms around the girl, preventing her from falling in. He hugged her tightly as his own tears trickled down his cheeks.
"I should have been there! I should have saved him!" She smashed her fist to the ground, ripping out the fresh grass that had sprouted through the winter frost. She clutched Sirius desperately, sobbing into his chest. "I should have—oh my god! Oh my god!"
"Shhh," Sirius shook his head. "Don't do that to yourself. Not even you can stop death."
…
** A moment of silence **
AN: I'd like to thank everyone who has been reading Can You Take Jump until now. A special thanks to those who have also been leaving me wonderful comments and reviews, your words honestly make my day and push me to write. So thank you, so much!
In the process of writing this chapter, I debated on how I would do this, how it would play out, how emotional it would be, and if I should even follow through with killing off Alphard (who happens to be my favorite character). I know many of you also loved Alphard and his relationship with Hermione, so I hope I did this wonderful character justice. I purposely wrote the first half of the chapter with no POV from Hermione, just others looking into Hermione because I didn't want to reveal how broken she was.
I feel like this chapter was an ending of an arc, dividing Hermione's life with Alphard and now, without. This is why I think it's a great time to pause. I'm using this moment to announce my hiatus~ After pumping 2-3 full-length chapters every week since the beginning I have developed quite the writer's block and burnout symptoms. If those aren't good enough excuses, I am also a grad student with a part-time job, so I have to write my thesis and do adult things. Don't like it? Don't blame me, I would love to sit at home and write fanfic all day, but sadly that isn't realistic. Blame bills, growing up, responsibilities, etc.
So for the really important question: When will I come back?
This hiatus will probably last the whole spring, after some of my exams and other work, so I will probably come back around May/June? However, during these times, I will continue to write the story and develop more plot, and hopefully, come close to an ending so that when I come back it'll be nonstop posting!
If you have questions or comments about the story/hiatus, or you have thoughts and ideas for suggestions on how the story is written. you can message me privately and we can talk!
Again, thank you to those who continue to love my story and I hope you'll all still be here when I come back!
- Ihatemakingupusernames