Chapter 17 - It's All Coming Back To Me Now

If you forgive me all this

If I forgive you all that

We forgive and forget

And it's all coming back to me…

Celine Dion - It's All Coming Back To Me

_-o0o-_

Hermione took a deep, steadying breath, looking upon the castle that had been so much a part of her youth, her second home. A chill ran through her, almost like a giggle of bubbles, and she smiled.

"Hello, old friend. Looking good, I must say," she said allowed, and almost could have sworn the very stones shimmered in a vain "thank you". She chuckled as she felt the wards allow her and her companions entrance. She was so lost in her own world that she was unprepared to be whisked off her feet and thrown through the air among a sea of male bodies, all joyously crying her name and asking a million questions, none of which she had answers for when her mind was so preoccupied. First, she recognised the birch and hazel mixed with spices and the faintest scent of broom oil...or at least that was the oil Hermione was going to imagine for her own sanity...as Ron, who was happily chattering and moving on with his greetings as he passed her over to a more sweet, metallic smelling Draco, who ruffled her hair and was quickly passing her on to a much larger and more imposing figure that smelled of game and the Forbidden Forest. She had no understanding of her reaction to the avuncular giant's warm embrace, as she found herself gripping her old friend tightly and weeping happy tears into his voluminous, but now very grey and white, beard. He shushed her tears and seemed to cover her from the view of the others, rubbing her back as if she were one of his wild young that had wandered too far from their mothers.

Detangling herself from the loving familiarity of Hagrid, Hermione made her way towards the steps and entrance of the castle, where stood three men whom she shared an electric smile. She had not seen them for what had felt like too long, though in reality of course it had not been. Even Snape deigned to smile back at her, though it was a lot more secretive and meant to be seen by only her, which she treasured. He had finally forgiven her for saving his body and being so insistent upon his "coming back", as Potter had dubbed the experience, as he had been quite sure of his own mind, he might have wanted to head towards the light, so to speak. She had, of course, tore him a new hole with explanations of how his stupidity was hindering his own happiness, how he was a slave now only to his own insecurities, and - and he almost chuckled aloud at remembering the last part of her rant - how he should "just pull your head out of your arse and let people take care for you for once, you fucking pillock!". It had been the kick in the pants he had needed, as he was slowly spiralling at that point into a depressive pit that could almost have rivalled his bastard fathers.

The next greetings Hermione received were back to the lifting and the spinning - Why is everyone trying to make me feel like a child? But why do I want to say weeeee? Hermione thought and let out a laugh and a squeal as Remus and Sirius lifted her off the ground and gave her their warm welcome and promises of dinners and chess and nightcaps whilst she was here. Luckily for her, Professor McGonagall reassured her that she was in luck, as the formidable Headmistress was "too old to be carrying on like that", although she did give her a bone crushing hug that definitely showed the power in the old witch. Hermione hoped to be as strong as the matriarch when she reached her age - whatever age that may be, Hermione was never quite sure. She noted Harry, Ginny and, pulling up in a thestral drawn carriage, Hermione gasped as Luna and Neville tumbled to the ground, giggling like school children. Although they had been summoned as a matter of course, due to their status as active Order members, neither had responded, which Hermione had found odd but not unusual. Both had been abroad, flying round the world in their separate pursuits, Neville his exotic fauna and Luna her...well Hermione could only say it was fauna, she was still not very convinced with the world in which Luna inhabited, but it made for some amazing, tantalising and often times titillating letters she received from each country visited. Neville was less frequent with correspondence, being up mountains and in deep caves a lot of the time, however he did write at least once every couple of months with similar stories. He had mentioned a woman he had met on his travels, and how he had seen truest beauty in her eyes. Hermione had wished him all the luck in the world, but now, looking upon both of her dear friends making their way towards the throng, realisation dawned and she felt a joy that radiated from not only herself, but she could almost swear the castle again was overjoyed.

"Hiya 'Mione, it's been so long!" Neville hugged her like a long lost brother, and Luna found herself being subject to Hermione's first attempt at getting in the first hug. Hermione gasped and clapped as she noted that Luna was sporting a healthy happy bump, and a glow only women who are pregnant seem to exude, that mixture of tired radiance and irritable pleasure.

"Hello Hermione, well a year and four months ago, we married after meeting in Bali totally by accident, we discovered a small herd of endangered kekets, creatures whose diets happen to be solely based on the herb Neville was hunting as part of his Dragon Pox research! 7 months and no, don't worry I checked and, as we were only in London anyway for my birthday, we just travelled up on one of the muggle trains! It was lovely, Neville booked us into first class. I think I've answered all your questions, haven't I?"

Luna gave Hermione a moony grin and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at her dotty but beautiful friend. She had, in fact, covered most of Hermione's questions in one hit - Hermione had no idea how she always knew, even when Hermione threw in curveball questions off the cuff - so Hermione simply hugged her once more and, looping her arms in those of her two friends, she headed inside her home. She knew that this moment, right there, was the only one of peace she would have for quite some time, and she was envious of those who didn't get called upon to do the next right thing, however she would be damned if anyone was going to ruin this for her. She would enjoy the next few hours within the bosom of her hodge-podge family, and she would let the fiendfyre take her this evening.

_-o0o-_

"They're called Thestrels, they only can be seen by those who have seen death. In the place we are heading, a lot of the children see them now. This is one of the oldest countries in the world, and the magic here is as ancient as the very earth. I warn you all, the magic will demand respect," Eric rumbled as a large carriage pulled up before them drawn by the smoking beasts. He had been tempted to roll his eyes at the open jaws of his travel companies, but he simply shot a look at Pam and ensured that the others were aware of their duty and due reverence for where they were. Sookie let Eric's words sink in, noting the heavier hint of Norse invading his accent. She knew he was deadly serious, and so she took Sam's hand and made her way inside. The carriage was luxurious, she could not believe it's true size. There was a long table against one side with light snacks and drinks. She could only recognise the sandwiches, the rest were a magical array of foods she felt compelled to try. The other walls of the carriage were lined with plush seating, and Sookie practically dragged Sam to the food She heard him mutter something about "magical tour bus", but she was too engrossed in the buffet. She was glad when Lafayette joined her with equal amounts of zeal, much to the scathing looks of her vampire companions. She was in a country she had never been, and was in a whole new mess and tangle of crazy, she would be damned if they ruined her moment.

Lafayette sniffed the food before trying it, and was surprised to taste the familiar sweetness of pumpkin, as he went through the picnic style pieces, he was able to differentiate flavours he knew, and appreciate those he didn't. He was unsure if the drinks provided were alcoholic, but surely Butterbeer contained some level of booze. It was smooth and sweet and indeed warmed him like melted butter on hot biscuits, and he knew he was in serious danger if he hid all the bottles in his carry on satchel...which he proceeded to do whilst no one was looking because damn that was nice. He was not blind to the falseness of everyone's actions. They were all not as in awe of the magic around them as they were making out, but he appreciated where everyone's head space was at that moment. Why did they have to be adults and go through everything for the hundredth time, and miss all the wonder they had seen in their brief time in the country, from the bustle and noise of London to the remote wonder of the rolling lands before them. Ok, all this was going to go to shit anytime soon. And yes, maybe there was going to be some serious danger ahead, but for now, for this brief moment, he would be damned if the doom of the future was going to weigh heavy on him when he had all this good wholesomeness before him And who knew, maybe he would get laid from one of those stuffy, nerdy, British types? All them clever professors, pent up in one castle, carrying that British stiff upper lip crap, who knew who he could help keep warm while they tried to survive another fucking adventure?

Eric was pensive, and Pam was away with the faeries in full rest mode so she couldn't pull him out of his thinly veiled anguish. He was going to see her. She was already there. He could sense her, like the faintest scent was carried to him on the wind, like the warmth of a roaring hearth as you brought home a good hunt for the family, as you drew closer, the flames warmed more and more of you until your very heart beat with the crackling blaze. He closed his eyes every now and then, when no one was paying attention, just to catch a glimpse of her from his memory. Sometimes it would be her writhing in ecstasy under his ministrations, but often it would be her simply wrapped in that god awful thatched monstrosity she called a blanket, her cat curled up in her crossed lap, warming her feet and snoozing, as her hair escapes its messy bun. Rather than push it from her eyes, she blows the tickling strands that persist in their assault, but so undeterred from finishing the page she was reading she would not move for even her own hairs crusade against her thirst for the words on the page. Her soul was calling to him and, in that moment, though he had never before truly believed in such a thing, he would be damned if someone told him that he was bereft of such a magical thing, for his soul was calling out to her, and whether or not vampires truly retained such thing, in that moment he was sure that they were, in fact, calling to each other. For this brief moment, he was once again alive.