Chapter 56

June 30 1997

The Dark Lord sat on the throne he'd erected on the dais that now stood in the Malfoy Manor ballroom, a bizarre sort of king. His snakelike face was wreathed in pleasure as Draco, Severus and the other Death Eaters who had been at Hogwarts walked in.

Bellatrix skipped forward to him like an excited little girl, whispering into his ear (or what should have been an ear) with animated glee.

Draco occluded, keeping his face blank, certain that his actions tonight were the topic of her whispers.

"Draco I'm so very proud of you," the Dark Lord hissed, his snakelike tongue peeking from between his lips. If Draco hadn't been occluding he would have shuddered. He was bolstered by the feeling of Theo's love and adoration through the bond as his soulmate walked into the room behind him. He didn't even have to look and see the familiar patterned mask in the crowd.

"And to show my appreciation of the completion of your mission, I have a reward for you." The Dark Lord gestured at one of the Death Eaters off to the side, a magnanimous gesture from a wizard who was acting like a king in Draco's home. It made him sick. "Bring in Draco's surprise."

A wizard with long pale hair gone lank and greasy stood before the Dark Lord, his eyes sunken and haunted. His clothes were little more than filthy rags and he reeked.

"Hello father," Draco said flatly.

...

July 3, 1997

When Harry told Ron and her about the locket, the cave filled with inferi, and Dumbledore swearing him to secrecy, Ron was angry that Harry had kept it a secret from them in the days leading up to Dumbledore's murder.

"Hermione kept it a secret that Dumbledore asked her to ward us inside the dormitory!" Harry yelled back in defense. "I was just doing as he asked me to!"

Hermione was grateful that Dumbledore was such a secretive bastard. She wondered if she could blame anything else on his supposed directives later. She'd keep it in her pocket to use as needed.

"And it doesn't matter anyway! Because someone else got there before us! They already took the horcrux. Who knows where it is now!" Harry kicked the wall hard and then rubbed at his scar. Hermione shook her head at him. He always let his anger get the best of him and Voldemort used it as a doorway into his mind. Harry was so predictable that way. If he kept it up, Voldemort would figure out that they were hunting the horcruxes and that would make the whole thing infinitely harder, Chosen One or not.

The prophecy didn't say that Harry was the one that would prevail and he forgot that part more often than not. He was so sure that good would vanquish evil. Hermione wasn't nearly as sure.

She occluded to prevent her disdain from leaking out.

She picked up the little note that Harry had dropped to the ground like detritus and read it aloud to the two of them.

"To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.

I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,

you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B."

"Who the bloody hell is R.A.B.?" Ron asked in annoyance.

"How am I supposed to know?" Harry replied, but Hermione had spent a lot of time in Grimmauld Place and knew exactly who R.A.B. was. His name was on the tapestry and on the sign that hung off his door, and he was dead. Long ago, he had gone missing in Voldemort's service, supposedly.

Hermione felt her heart break at the realization that Sirius would never learn that his brother had done such a bloody Gryffindor thing and sacrificed himself to destroy a horcrux.

The horror of that made her skin cold and her eyes water. Sirius would never know that his brother had died valiantly, that he had written such an insolent note to the Dark Lord in the face of his own demise. The tragedy of it all felt like it had torn a hole inside of her.

Ron and Harry didn't even notice her distress as they continued to argue.

...

Bill was asleep on the couch in the middle of the sitting room at the Burrow, someone, the twins probably had forced Dreamless Sleep down his throat. The wounds from Fenrir Greyback's claws across Bill's face were bloody and they couldn't be closed with dittany yet.

"The wounds will scar," Remus was saying to Molly, Arthur and Fleur as he kneeled next to Bill's prone form.

"Of course, it doesn't matter how he looks... it's not r - really important... but he was a very handsome little b - boy... always very handsome... and he was g - going to be married!" Molly began to wail.

"And what do you mean by that?" said Fleur suddenly and loudly, nostrils flaring. "What do you mean, 'e was going to be married?" Hermione could see her expression from where she sat near the door and she shoved down the urge to back up further. If wings exploded from Fleur's back, Hermione wouldn't have been surprised as the part Veela looked homicidal.

Molly raised her tear-stained face, looking startled. Ron and Harry shared a shocked look that Fleur would dare to speak to Molly that way. Tonks and Hermione sat together next to the twins watching the chaos unfold.

"Well - only that -" Molly began.

"You think that Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?" demanded Fleur. "You think, because of these small scars, he will not love me?"

Arthur attempted to get a word in edgewise but the two women were not even acknowledging him.

"No, that's not what I -" Molly shook her head, unable to articulate what she wanted to say.

"Because 'e will!" said Fleur, drawing herself up to her full height and throwing back her long mane of silver hair. "It would take more than a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!".

Hermione nearly snorted, but threw her hand over her mouth so as to not attract attention to herself.

Tonks winked at her, a smirk on her lips that reminded Hermione of Draco, before standing and disappearing back out into the yard, the pop of apparition could be heard as the pink-haired Auror departed, her concerns about everyone's well being obviously assuaged.

"Well, yes, I'm sure," said Mrs. Weasley, "but I thought perhaps - given how - how he -"

"You thought I would not wish to marry him? Or perhaps you 'oped?" said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. "What do I care how 'e looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I think! All these scars show that my husband is brave!"

"And I shall do that!" she added fiercely, pushing Molly aside and snatching the silver ointment from her.

Molly fell back against Arthur and watched Fleur mopping up Bill's wounds with a most curious expression upon her face. Nobody said anything; Hermione did not dare move. Like everybody else, she was waiting for the explosion.

"Our Great Auntie Muriel," said Mrs. Weasley after a long pause, "has a very beautiful tiara - goblin-made - which I am sure I could persuade her to lend you for the wedding. She is very fond of Bill, you know, and it would look lovely with your hair."

"Thank you," said Fleur stiffly. "I am sure that will be lovely."

Hermione thought Fleur was far too forgiving or too emotionally spent to keep arguing. Whichever it was, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Molly was putting loyalty potions in her food as well and perhaps their effects on a Veela, even part Veela, were not as strong as on her own children. They all needed to escape from Molly's thrall. Hermione wanted to do something about it, but felt as though her hands were tied as a guest in the house. Would any of the Weasley children even believe her?

...

Being at the Burrow was literally Hermione's nightmare. There was no food anywhere except for things made by Molly Weasley. She stuck to fresh fruit as much as she could, even if Hermione's stomach was growling as she avoided the tainted food.

Hermione wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible, her pilfered Hogwarts snacks were only going to last so long and they didn't have nearly the nutritional value that she needed.

She didn't want to raise any alarms when she left and everytime she said something to Molly or Arthur about going home, they shut her down. It was unsafe. She was far too young to be going out on her own. Death Eaters were everywhere these days.

Her annoyance was getting harder and harder to keep in check and Harry and Ron had gotten more than one tongue lashing from her.

Thanks to Molly's constant meddling, Hermione had developed a healthy fear of witchly mothers and she found herself grateful that it was unlikely that Narcissa Malfoy and she would ever interact and Theo's mother was long dead at his father's hands.

...

Hermione was sitting in the stairwell at the Burrow both trying to stay out of everyone's way and it had offered her the added bonus of as well as eavesdropping on Ginny and Harry as Harry broke up with Ginny. She wished that she had a set of the extendable ears and would have to ask the twins for a set next time she made it over to Diagon Alley.

Harry's awkward refusal to promise that they would get back together after the war was amusing to listen to. He didn't seem to know what he wanted and was planning to die in the coming conflict if what he was and wasn't saying was any indication. Dumbledore had really done a number on him, but Hermione's fury at the sectumsempra incident hadn't faded in the slightest, if he didn't come out of this war alive, then that was the necessary price to pay.

She waited for him to slip out of Ginny's room and back into Ron's.

Hermione carefully came into Ginny's room and was surprised to find Ginny without a tear on her face.

"Did you hear all that?" Ginny asked and at Hermione's nod, Ginny sighed. "Am I a bad person if I am relieved?"

"No, you aren't a bad person," Hermione said, sitting beside her friend.

"I care about Harry, I do," Ginny said with her head in her hands, "But not romantically. But so far, what I want has never seemed to matter."

"What you want matters to me," Hermione offered, putting Her arm around Ginny's shoulder.

"He doesn't make me happy, Hermione. Is that wrong of me?"

"No," Hermione squeezed her friend. "No one can force feelings that don't exist. Your happiness matters."

Ginny sighed, leaning her head onto Hermione's shoulder with a sniffle. "I just wish mum would agree with you. She's going to be so upset that he broke up with me and that I couldn't change his mind."

In that moment, Hermione could have cheerfully murdered Molly Weasley. Perhaps after the war was done.

...

"Mr. Weasley, I have to go check on my parents," Hermione insisted for the tenth time in two days before the man finally relented. No one else around had the least understanding of the Muggle world, so no one insisted on coming with her.

It was a relief to finally leave the Burrow. She had planned for this outing and the first thing on Hermione's list was to deal with her parents. She didn't even declare her presence, she just obliviated them and cast memory charms that would prompt them to move to Australia. Taking her purple bag upstairs to her room she puts all of her things inside.

She disillusioned herself and walked through the house, giving the briefest look at the Muggles who had all but become strangers to her over the years. She wished them happiness in their new life and suspected that whatever happened in the war that she would never see them again. It was for the best. They'd never understand the life she wanted for herself if she lived through this.

She wasn't done in Muggle London, so she climbed onto the bus and then onto the tube, eventually popping out near Grimmauld Place and walking the rest of the way to the place that had come to feel more like home than the Granger's house had.

"Filthy mudblood, what's it doing here?" The old house elf seemed to have returned to the townhouse instead of staying at Hogwarts, but his presence wasn't going to be an obstacle to her.

"Fuck off, Kreacher," Hermione snipped and made her way to the library.

To her horror, Hermione found that the library had whole shelves of books missing and she ran her hands over the empty shelves in disbelief.

"Awful Weasley woman be getting rid of books from the Ancient and Noble House of Black," Kreacher, who had followed her, explained with a grimace.

Hermione saw red and went up the stairs to her room. The little sign that said her name in Sirius' calligraphy handwriting pulled an unexpected sob from her throat as she straightened it.

Opening her door, she was relieved to see a huge stack of books on the floor, one of which had a note from Remus.

Hiding these in here from Molly. -Remus.

Hermione was so grateful for the thoughtful werewolf and wished he was here. Grimmauld was too silent without him, and without Sirius as himself or as Padfoot. Even a year after his death, she kept expecting to hear his voice calling her to come down for tea or the soft pad of his feet outside the door, the light rap of his knuckle, or Queen playing downstairs on his old record player.

She curled up on her bed and wrapped her arms around her knees, wishing that everything was different. The future felt like it was crushing her.

Above her on the wall, the pressed blue rose in the frame mocked her with a past of simple joy that seemed unattainable now.

Draco's poetry teasing her from the past, made her touch her ring and the coin that hung between her breasts.

Je pourrais me noyer dans le miel de tes yeux.

La douceur de tes boucles me transperce.

Je rêve de t'embrasser.

How she dreamed of kissing him and Theo too.

And she could drown in the ocean of Theo's eyes and the mercury of Draco's.

She had to believe in a future where they could be together again. She'd do whatever it took to make that happen. Whatever it took.

Whatever it took.