Poison and Wine

May 3, 1998

For the last seven years, Hermione’s life had been building up to one moment: the war. When the Battle of Hogwarts concluded. She didn’t feel anything like she expected to feel. They had won. Light over dark. Good over bad. Voldemort was killed and Harry had somehow (miraculously) survived.

Despite this, the world felt darker than ever. Sure, the looming presence of the Dark Lord was gone but it had been quickly replaced with the reality of war. 

Hogwarts was half-destroyed in the battle. Smoldering ruins stood out against the breaking light of dawn. Distant voices sobbed and called out for their loved ones, filling the air with a gruesome song. Medics were helping who they could, but there would still be more to die. Death sat heavy above the battlefield, taking its fill of the too-young soldiers. 

Hermione wandered through the wreckage, feeling like a spector. She was disconnected from her body. She felt as if she were watching herself on a muggle telly. The ground was uneven, covered in broken ruins, torn earth, and fallen bodies.

Upon finding the body of Lavender Brown, Hermione’s mind went blank. The young woman had been torn to shreds. Her marred remains were nearly unrecognizable. It was hard to imagine just how much pain her peer had felt before death finally took her.

Hermione continued to stumble her way through the bloody grounds of Hogwarts. 

Harry was safe, he had lived. He was now being congratulated and embraced by the Weasley’s, alongside Ron. Hermione knew she ought to be there, too. However, she couldn’t bring herself to celebrate. Not when the fires of the battle hadn’t yet died out–not when the moans of pain still echoed through the grounds.

Hermione wandered aimlessly. For the first time in years, she had no goal--no destination. Voldemort was dead, his wand destroyed. Bellatrix fell at the hands of Molly. Greyback had been dead thanks (in part) to her own spells. Nagini was dead, the last Horcrux before Harry himself had to die. All who sat beside the Dark Lord were dead or being arrested by Aurors.

But it wasn’t just the Death Eaters who suffered. Professor Lupin, Professor Snape, Nyphadora Tonks, Fred Weasley, Lavender Brown, and Colin Creevey’s names had all been listed among the dead. Likely, there would soon be more names Hermione recognized. Her heart ached for those who had been lost.

Hermione’s aimless wandering was brought to a halt when she found herself standing in front of the entrance to the Shrieking Shack. She hadn’t realized she had been walking towards it until she appeared in front of it. Hermione lingered at its entrance, hesitating.

Why did I walk here? She asked herself.

There was nothing she could do there, at the shack. Inside would be Professor Snape’s body and the ghosts of his death. 

A cold breeze tugged at Hermione’s messy hair. She took a deep breath and stepped up towards the door. She placed her hand on the doorknob and opened it. It creaked as she did so. Slowly, Hermione stepped into the abandoned house.

It was dark apart from a steady stream of morning light that pooled in from one of the dirt-fogged windows. Dust hung heavy in the air. Hermione didn’t spend much time gazing around. Her tired eyes almost immediately fell onto the fallen form of the Potions Master.

Professor Snape remained in the same spot she had left him. Hermione hadn’t seen into the Pensive like Harry. However, she had seen the anguish in her friend’s eyes when he had pulled his face out of the memories. 

Harry had stared at her and Ron before saying, ‘ he…he had been helping me this whole time ’.

Hermione had never been fully filled in on everything Harry had seen in Professor Snape’s memories. However, she had understood the gist. The Potions Master had been a spy for the Order. Every terrible thing he had done was an act–he had been playing the role of a devoted Death Eater up until his final moments.

Staring down at her former Professor, Hermione felt an odd mix of emotions.

The silence of the Shrieking Shack had never felt so loud. Hermione couldn’t help but feel as though she was hiding. Her friends were celebrating and morning together yet she had wandered all the way to the shack for…what? Why was she here?

Dust drifted through the ray of sunlight that crossed the room. Hermione shivered.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could bring herself to say to Professor Snape’s body.

He didn’t respond, dead people rarely do.

“Harry said you’d been helping us–helping the Order,” she hesitated. “The war is over. We won.”

The words ‘ we won ’ seemed to echo through the empty shack. Without thinking what she was doing, Hermione stepped closer to the body of Professor Snape. He was slumped over on the ground, up against the wall. Dried blood stood out against the pale skin of his neck. His skin was paler than usual but not nearly as deathly looking as she expected him to look.

Slowly, Hermione lowered herself closer to him. Upon further examination, Hermione realized (in a rather delayed fashion) that Professor Snape’s chest was moving ever so slightly. He was breathing--he was alive.

May 9, 1998

The Burrow was many things, but it would always feel like a second home to Hermione. After the war, it hadn’t taken the Weasley’s long to rebuild their beloved home. Hermione and Harry were quick to offer their help. Within only a few days, the home was reconstructed, created to look identical to the one that had been burned down.

After it was finished, the Weasleys (and Harry and Hermione) celebrated by hosting an enormous bonfire in their backyard. Because of all that had been lost, Hermione had been hesitant to partake in the marriement. However, even Molly explained that the victory over Voldemort deserved to be celebrated.

So, Hermione found herself behind The Burrow, watching as Ron and George attempted to start a bonfire. Harry sat beside her, sipping on a mug of hot tea. Luna and her father had arrived only minutes ago and were now in a heated conversation with Arthur about Muggle automobiles. Percy, Charlie, Bill, and Fluer had just arrived as well, each of them carrying a different kind of liquor bottle.

Eventually, Ginny slid into the seat beside Harry and the two began to talk idly about Quidditch. Hermione half-listened to all the conversations that were taking place around her. It was clear that everyone was trying to do their best to be happy--to celebrate their victory. However, she couldn’t ignore the dark cloud that hung over them.

After a few minutes of listening to Harry attempt to flirt with Ginny, Hermione stood and excused herself. She slipped inside and found Molly standing in the kitchen. Her eyes were glued to the long table as she waited for the roast to cook.

“Mrs. Weasley, is there anything I can help with?” Hermione said. She hated the dark look that had settled onto Molly’s face.

“Oh, I didn’t hear you come inside,” she looked up and forced a kind smile. “I’m quite alright. You should enjoy your time with the others.”

“I…I think I’d prefer to be of use, ma’am.”

A look of understanding crossed Molly’s face. “Right, I suppose I understand that. Why don’t you help me chop up some vegetables.”

Hermione offered her a small smile of relief before wandering into the kitchen. The room was warm and smelled strongly of roasted meat, garlic, and onion. Already knowing where most of Molly’s cooking supplies were, Hermione pulled out a cutting board and knife. 

She glanced over and asked, “what can I chop up?”

“Here,” Molly accio-d two heads of lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, and a red onion. “I’m thinking we’ll make a salad to go on the side. Why don’t you start with the lettuce?”

“Alright,” Hermione agreed easily. 

She quickly began to chop up the heads of lettuce, using a simple chopping spell. Once the lettuce was chopped to a proper size it put itself into a large bowl on the counter. It was an easy task to chop vegetables, but it felt incredibly good to be useful .

In the days since the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had felt as though she had been drifting through life. She didn’t know what her next step was. She didn’t know where to go from there.

As she chopped vegetables beside Molly Weasley, Hermione felt these concerns slide away. She focused on the task at hand. As she cut, nothing else existed outside of the kitchen. Her worries were temporarily put on hold.

Hermione likely could have stayed there forever, helping Molly. However, things changed suddenly when Hermione’s hand accidentally brushed the side of Molly’s arm.

Time stood still. The warm comforts of the kitchen faded away and a vision overtook Hermione’s eyes. 

Molly knelt in front of her son’s body, unable to do anything but sob. She had lost a child. The ground was cold where her knees pressed down into the soil, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. Fred laid on his back. His life force was gone. His magic was gone. All that remained was a shell of a boy.

As she stared down at the body of her son, Molly didn’t see a young man or a clever wizard. She didn’t see a soldier. She saw a boy. She saw a child with clever eyes and a knack for mischief. She saw a little boy who was terrified of the dark and who loved chocolate pudding. She saw a boy who loved his family and often took jokes a little too far.

Fred was gone and he was never coming back.

The little boy who Molly had held so tightly had slipped through her fingers like sand. He was dead–another soul lost to the war.

Molly wept. 

Hermione tore her hand away from Molly but the damage had already been done. Tears shimmered on the older woman’s cheeks as she stared at Hermione in disbelief. Both women struggled to find the words for what had just happened.

“I…I…what was that?” Hermione finally asked.

“You. Was that…Legilimency?”

“No,” Hermione said quickly. “I’m not a Legilimens.”

Molly had the distinct look of someone who did not believe what they were being told. She crossed her arms across her chest, not bothering to wipe her eyes. “What was that, dear?” There was a bit of darkness to her tone.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’m sorry…I…was that me? ”

“Invading my mind? Yes, I could feel you, Hermione.”

“I’m sorry…I…I’ve never done that before…I didn’t mean to…I’m so sorry, Mrs. Weasley.”

For a long moment, Molly just stared at her. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. There was no way she had just accidentally performed Legilimency. It was something that took years of practice as well as natural talent. She had never done anything like that before.

“Let’s…get the table set for dinner.” Apparently, Molly had decided it was best to move on. 

“Yes…of course,” Hermione agreed quickly. 

However, she wasn’t so eager to forget what had happened. She had been thrust into Molly’s mind suddenly and without reason. She had felt Molly’s pain as she sat on the cold earth in front of her dead son. She had suddenly known what it was like to not only have a child, but to lose one as well.

Hermione set the large table in the dining room, trying her best to forget about what she had just experienced. However, no amount of excitement for dinner could get the images of Fred’s body out of her mind. Occasionally, she found herself glancing up towards Molly. Despite what she showed the world, the Weasley matriarch was deeply scarred by the war.

Dinner was an exciting affair. Conversations were loud and voices were cheery for the first time in a long time. Harry laughed on several occasions and Hermione couldn’t help but be warmed by the sound of his laughter. All around her, her friends and chosen family talked and laughed in an attempt to ignore the pains of loss.

Hermione wanted to join in. She wanted to tell Harry and Ron about the book she had been reading just so they could roll their eyes and tell her she didn’t need to read since they were done with school. She wanted to laugh at Ron’s jokes and remind Harry his glasses were broken (once again). 

However, she felt trapped in the vision she had seen.

Towards the end of dinner, Hermione shot a glance towards Molly. Typically, she was in the heart of a conversation during dinner. However, she seemed quieter. Hermione couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty.

After dinner, Hermione offered to help clean up. Molly was quick to decline her offer, instead making Ginny and George help her.

It was late when Hermione found herself in Ron’s bedroom. It had been over an hour since everyone had left or gone to bed. The Burrow was quiet, save for the room she currently sat in.

“So, what’s this about?” Ron asked as he lounged casually on his bed.

“Something weird happened to me tonight,” Hermione answered.

“Weird how?” Harry asked. He sat at the food of Ron’s bed while Hermione sat against the pillows.

“I…it’s hard to explain but I think I accidentally performed Legilimency.”

Ron and Harry exchanged a look with one another.

“I don’t think that’s something you can accidentally do, ‘Mione,” Ron replied.

“Yes, I’m aware but I don’t know how else to explain it,” she let out a frustrated sigh.

“Can you explain what happened?”

“I was helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen and suddenly I was seeing her on the battlefield, at Hogwarts.”

“What?”

“It was weird…I wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. I was…with her. I could feel her pain and…I…she was kneeling beside…Fred,” Hermione looked down at her hands.

For a moment neither of her friends spoke. She worried she had somehow said the wrong thing by mentioning Fred.

“That does sound like Legilimency,” Harry admitted. “But there has to be another explanation. Are you sure you weren’t just…imagining it?”

Hermione scoffed and looked at him. “I know I saw and it was real. I felt like I was back there.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve secretly been a Legilimens all this time, have you?” Ron asked.

Hermione couldn’t help but give a small smile. “No, I’m not. I…I’ve read about it but it’s a complex skill. Either people are born with it or it takes them decades to learn.”

“Were you looking into her eyes when it happened?” Harry asked.

“No. I was working beside her.”

“Weird.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I keep thinking about it and I can’t figure out how this could happen.”

Both Ron and Harry looked just as lost as she was. Hermione had been hoping that Harry could offer her some knowledge but he seemed at a loss for words.

“You know more about this than I do,” she said to him. “Haven’t you used Legilimency?”

“Accidentally,” he blushed. “But I hardly think Voldemort counts. We were connected so…I don’t know but it’s probably different.” He paused and considered it for a moment. “I’ve had it happen to me. When Snape–Professor Snape was trying to teach me how to Occlude, he performed Legilimency on me.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Uncomfortable. It gave me a headache.”

“Did you see what he was seeing?”

“Yeah, he saw the Dursleys and…” Harry trailed off.

“Why don’t you try to use Legilimens? You can look in my head if you want,” Ron offered.

“No, Ron. I can’t ask that of you. It’s…infringing on-”

“I’m offering,” he raised a brow.

Hermione looked at her friend. “What if it hurts?”

He shrugged.

She looked at Harry in an attempt to make him stop what was about to happen. Instead, he said, “it’s not a bad idea.”

Hermione took a steadying breath and looked at Ron. “How do I do this?”

“Look in his eyes,” Harry instructed. “And say ‘Legilimens’. Like any spell, you have to mean it, there has to be magic behind your words.”

Looking into Ron’s eyes, Hermione uttered the word, “Legilimens.”

Nothing happened. She waited, even saying the spell a second time. However, she didn’t get a glimpse into Ron’s mind like she had into Molly’s.

“Well,” Ron shrugged. “I guess you're not a Legilimens. It must’ve been a fluke.”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed. “I guess I just can’t explain what happened.” She hated not being able to explain something. She let out a long, irritated sigh.

“Hey,” Ron said with a half-smile. “It’ll be fine. You’re probably just tired from…everything.” As he spoke, he reached out to grab her hand.

The moment his fingers met hers, Hermione felt her vision blur. Her stomach churn and suddenly she felt a wave of nausea. Slowly, Ron’s bedroom faded away.

Hagrid walked across the school grounds carrying the fallen form of Harry Potter. Ron stood perfectly still, feeling like the world was crashing down around him. Harry was dead.

His best friend. The boy he looked up to. The man that he was becoming. Harry was dead.

It took him a long while to realize that the war was also over. If Harry was dead, that meant Voldemort won. Despite the terror that should have been in his chest, all Ron could think about was his friend. 

Harry was more than just a pawn in a game. He was funny and smart. He was the best Seeker in the whole school. He was his friend.

Hermione was suddenly back in Ron’s bedroom–back at The Burrow. Ron was staring at her with a terrified expression. His eyes were damp with tears but he blinked them away rapidly before shooting a glance at Harry.

“When I touched you, you…took over my mind, ‘Mione,” Ron said slowly. She couldn’t help but notice the fear in his voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she felt her heart begin to pump faster. “I swear.”

“Legilimency isn’t supposed to be related to touch at all,” Harry said as he considered what just happened.

“Well, apparently it is for me.”