Prompt #54: "We all have secrets."
Hermione stood there waiting, hoping Remus would reply back with his own Patronus, but after half an hour of getting absolutely drenched in the rain, she knew he probably wasn't in the right state of mind to answer her yet.
Clutching the dreaded newspaper in her fist, Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated just enough to Disapparate back to the Longbottom's manor. When she landed on the outskirts of the mansion, she stumbled, unable to hold herself up.
The emotional pain wrenching at her gut was nothing like she had experienced before. And to top that off, the realisation that Sirius had been in love with Alice…It was a bitter pill that choked her, the overwhelming grief threatening to suffocate her. But she couldn't break down. Not now. Not when every second felt like a lifetime, each moment a relentless reminder of her failures.
Hermione needed to find a way to change things for the better. And she would start with Neville. The poor boy had already lost his mother; she couldn't bear to just desert him either.
She dragged her feet as she made her way into the house, ignoring the wails of the wind and the rain pelting down upon her. The large doors of the manor loomed before her, like the gaping maw of some monstrous beast. They were intimidating, silently yelling at her that she didn't belong—but then again, where did she belong? She didn't have a single idea of her place in the universe, not back then in her actual time and not now in this alternate universe.
But she didn't fault Neville from sending her back to help his parents. She knew he had meant well, and because he had been her first ever friend, she owed him a great deal. But she had messed things up so bad that now two of the people who had been alive in her time were dead. The weight of her mistakes bore down on her, crushing her spirit with each step she took inside the manor.
Hermione didn't know what to do. So she decided to do what she always did: research.
Walking into the spacious sitting room near the gardens, she plopped down in an armchair and closed her eyes to rest just a bit. Her exhaustion was palpable, each breath coming in ragged gasps. The scrunched-up newspaper slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the ground, landing near her feet in a heap.
Her next step should be to contact Dumbledore. Though Hermione didn't trust him as far as she could hex him, the headmaster was the only one resourceful enough to get her through this situation. But she didn't want to play her hand too quickly or too late.
She was still planning and strategizing in her head when the sound of heavy footsteps approaching caught her attention. Only one person could walk like that in this house and that was Frank. But Hermione wasn't ready to open her eyes. She didn't want to see the expression on his face every time he looked at her. It was always a mixture of hate, disgust, and deep-seated fury.
Frank Longbottom did not like her. He did not want her around. But Hermione was stuck there and she couldn't even leave because she had no identity outside these four walls. She didn't have any money, any job, or anyone who would trust her enough to keep her with them for the time being—except for Augusta.
The footsteps stopped near the armchair, but Frank was silent. Hermione slowly opened her eyes when Frank's breath hitched before he began breathing heavily. She turned towards him, confused as to what he was getting mad—
Oh, fuck.
Hermione didn't swear. But she had been glued to Ron's side for the better part of the decade—and Ron Weasley had been awfully fond of cursing and swearing, which Hermione had picked up on over the years. She rarely cursed, but when she did, it was serious.
Like now.
Frank was standing just a bit to the side of her armchair, holding the newspaper she had dropped to the ground limply in his hands. His gaze was trained on what Hermione knew was the moving picture of Sirius Black's screaming mugshot.
"He's dead?" Frank choked out, slowly clenching his fists in the newspaper to rumple it even more. "Sirius…is dead?"
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, unable to say anything else. The words felt hollow, a mere echo of her own anguish. What could she even say?
Frank's eyes roved over the newspaper before hardening to sharp glints. Hermione knew what he was reading even though she couldn't see the part. She could recite the line in her sleep; it haunted her that much.
"Just can't live without Alice anymore. I'm sorry."
Frank let out a keening sound before scrunching up the newspaper and whirling towards her. "You knew, didn't you?"
"Wh-what?" Hermione didn't know where exactly Frank's mind had turned to, but it couldn't be anything good.
"You knew about this, didn't you? That Sirius—that he was in l-love with my Alice," Frank demanded, hot fury blazing in his eyes. He shook his fist at her, practically thrumming with rage.
"No, I didn't—I just found out," Hermione stammered, jumping to her feet. She couldn't just sit there in the armchair and feel vulnerable against his accusations. "I didn't know anything!"
"You claimed to be from the future," Frank growled, his chest swelling as he stood straighter and loomed down at her like an angry lion. "Did you know Sirius? Was he alive in your time?"
"Yes, I knew Sirius," she whispered but was unable to look him in the eye.
"Did you know we were friends? Sirius and I?"
"Yes…"
"Then how come you didn't know how Sirius felt about my wife?"
"He never told anyone, I swear! We all have secrets, Frank! And don't blame me for—"
Frank screamed, spit flying from his mouth, "How can I not blame you? Ever since you popped into our lives, everything has gone to the fucking dogs! My wife—the woman I loved more than life itself—is dead, my son is left motherless, and now I find out a man I called my friend was so in fucking love with my wife that he killed himself? This is all your fault!"
"I didn't kill him!" Hermione cried, raising her hands to her mouth to stifle her sobs. Her chest heaved with the force of her grief, each breath a ragged struggle. Why was Frank blaming her for this?
"You're the reason my wife's dead! You're the reason Sirius killed himself!" Frank roared, and then, he did the unthinkable.
Whipping out his wand, Frank cursed her.
Hermione flew backwards into the wall and slumped down onto the floor, stunned by his actions. She shot to her feet and cried out, "Frank, what are you doing?"
"This is all your fault!" Frank screamed again and hexed her again.
Pus oozed out of the boils welling up on her arms, and Hermione winced but kept her mouth shut. Her skin burned and stung with each curse, the pain a physical manifestation of her internal torment. She wanted to hex Frank, but she reminded herself that he wasn't in the right frame of mind. He was hurt, that's it. It wouldn't be right of her to attack a man when he wasn't even himself.
Or was this the real Frank Longbottom?
Ignoring the stray thought, Hermione raised her arms to show Frank that she didn't mean him any harm. Instead of calming him, her actions seemed to infuriate him.
"Fight back, you coward!" he yelled and cast spell after spell at her. "Fight me!"
Hermione managed to deflect most of them, having fought in a war against Death Eaters too, but Frank's face was red and he was absolutely furious. His arm moved faster than humanly possible in a duel, reminding Hermione that even though she was a decorated war hero, this man was one of the best Aurors the Ministry had had in the past.
A stray spell hit Hermione's chest, and she couldn't help but cry out as she slammed head-first into the wall. Blood streamed down the nape of her neck, and the world spun round and round as Frank advanced on her, his face dark with rage.
Her vision blurred with tears and pain, every part of her body aching from the onslaught.
Hermione's fingers itched to fight back. It wasn't in her nature to stay down for long, but this was Frank, Neville's father. She couldn't do that to him, even though he was infuriating to deal with at times (most of the time). She wanted to remain calm and patient, but he was making it very, very difficult for her.
"I'm going to hurt you for what you've done to my family," Frank hissed as he leaned down and grabbed Hermione by her throat. He began to drag her upward; she tried to keep her feet planted on the ground, but Frank was surprisingly strong. He held her a few inches off the floor with just one hand, his bicep straining more with rage than from her weight.
Hermione clenched her eyes shut as he shook her hard. Her brain rattled inside her head, making her woozy. Bile rose into her throat when Frank leaned forward and hissed, "I hate you so much. You stole everything from me."
Just then, a quiet voice called out from the door of the sitting room. "Nee? Dada?"
Hermione's eyes snapped open at Neville's arrival. Shit. He shouldn't be seeing this.
Frank didn't seem to notice his son trudging into the room with his favourite blankie dragging behind him. Hermione reached up to grab Frank's hand, but her strength was failing her. Frank's hold on her throat was tight enough to make her dizzy.
"Nee?" Neville whispered brokenly, waddling towards her as best as he could. He stumbled and fell onto his hands and knees and started bawling loudly.
"L-let me go," Hermione choked out, slapping Frank's forearm, but he didn't loosen his grip. "Neville's looking!"
"Dada?" Neville sobbed, crawling towards them. He gripped Frank's robes and tugged, his eyes wide in terror. He wailed, "Dada, Nee—no!"
"Look what you did," Frank snarled and shook Hermione like a horse shaking off a fly. "You made my son cry!"
"I—I didn't—You—" Hermione tried to speak, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest, but he didn't let her.
"You should be grateful that Neville's here, or else I would have ripped you apart with my bare hands." Frank sneered and let go of her, allowing her to fall onto the ground with a graceless thump.
She whimpered when her knees hit the floor, but Neville threw himself into her arms, still crying and sobbing pitifully, that she kept her cries under control. She didn't want to scare the toddler; it would have a terrible effect on his already vulnerable mental state.
"Stay away from me, I mean it. I don't want you anywhere near me or my family—what's left of it. Do you hear me? Pack your bags and get out," Frank snarled, his nostrils flaring as he glared down at her.
No one had ever looked at her like that before, and Hermione hated the feeling with a passion. Even Bellatrix had tortured her without getting personal and it hadn't hurt this much.
"Frank! What are you doing?" Augusta's horrified cries resonated in the room. Hermione hadn't even noticed her walk inside. Augusta hurried over and grabbed Frank's arm, yanking him away. "You're scaring Neville!"
"I'm telling her to get out, Mother," Frank snapped, whirling around to look at Augusta. "I can't bear to look at her—Alice is dead. Sirius is dead too. Because of her!"
Augusta recoiled hard. "What do you mean?"
"See for yourself." Frank shoved the newspaper into Augusta's trembling hands and actually spat on the floor in front of Hermione before storming out the door.
Neville wrapped his arms tightly around Hermione's neck, almost choking her as he cried on her shoulder. "Nee, Nee…"
"It's okay, it's okay," Hermione soothed him, rubbing his back as a tear rolled down her cheek. She tried to wipe it away, but seeing the look of horror on Augusta's face before she left the room like a zombie made Hermione finally break down.
She cried in Neville's neck, breathing in his sweet baby smell and gulping it greedily. Neville cried with her and sobbed, "Nee, 'kay."
"I'm okay," she reassured him despite the tears streaming down her face. She rocked him back and forth, blindly reaching for his blanket behind him. Clutching it in her fist, she took some comfort from it herself before wrapping it around Neville's shoulders like a cape. She made sure to wipe her tears as she pulled back and smiled down at him. "There! Who's my brave boy?"
Neville sat back on her lap and looked up at her, his eyes wide and brimmed with tears. "Nee?"
"No, Neville's my brave boy," she cooed, pinching his cheeks. He giggled through his tears and sniffled, his gaze now focused on her. Hermione continued kissing and blowing raspberries on his chubby cheeks to cheer him up. "Coming to stop your dada took a lot of courage. I'm so proud of you! You're a little ray of sunshine, aren't you? Never want anyone to get hurt."
Neville giggled and stuck his tongue out, trying to mimic her actions. She laughed breathlessly and lowered her to press her forehead against his. "We're okay, aren't we?"
Neville placed his hands on her face and said happily, "Nee!"
Hermione closed her eyes and kissed his forehead. "Yeah, Your Nee's here."