Chapter 4
“You lying, filthy Mudblood! Tell me the truth!”
“I am,” Hermione wailed, as well as she could with the woman pressing all her weight on her body. Her arm was pinned down beside her, Bellatrix shifted over to focus her attention on it.
“Maybe this will be a reminder to you to know your place,” Bellatrix hissed.
Hermione whimpered, then screamed as a white hot pain exploded from her arm, rippling through her entire body—
“Hermione!”
She jumped, sitting up quickly and looking around, cradling her arm to her chest. It took her a moment to realize she was in bed, and that it wasn’t Bellatrix in front of her.
“You were screaming,” Marlene said softly. “Are you alright?”
“I…yeah, I’m fine,” Hermione said, though she shivered as she said so, clutching her arm ever harder, ignoring how Marlene frowned.
“It’s normal to have nightmares, you know,” Marlene tried, sitting on the edge of the bed, one foot tucked under the other knee. “No matter classification. Anyone would after going through what you’ve been through.”
Hermione refused to make eye contact. Marlene didn’t know the half of what she went through, and she did not care to go over what she was missing right now.
“I’m okay,” Hermione repeated, firmer this time, though her voice still betrayed her. “I’m in my normal mindset. I can handle it.”
“Just because you haven’t dropped doesn’t mean you have to handle this on your own,” Marlene said. “I had nightmares too, you know. I still needed people with me while I recovered from everything, even as a Caregiver.”
Hermione hummed, rubbing the scar over her shirt, thankful she had decided to wear long sleeves to bed.
“Is your arm hurt?” Marlene asked. “I have some potions or salves—“
“It can’t be healed,” Hermione said quickly. “We, we got captured, and…it just can’t be healed. They tried at St. Mungo’s.”
“I’m sorry you went through that,” Marlene soothed, and Hermione winced, hating how that tone calmed her faster than anything, how the tension in her shoulders automatically started to fall.
“I won’t ask you about it, but I am here if you ever want to talk about it,” Marlene continued. “And I’m here tonight, if you’d rather not be alone. Or I can go back to my room and give you space. Your choice.”
Hermione chewed her nails as she thought, keeping her scar arm tucked against her, even now still feeling the ghost of the knife that carved into her flesh. Her head felt fuzzy the more she thought, and fear rippled through her at the thought of Marlene leaving.
“Please stay?”
“Of course,” Marlene agreed. She climbed into bed, climbing under the covers and laying next to Hermione. “Do you just want me here, or shall we have a cuddle?”
Hermione didn’t answer, rubbing her arm once more as she considered. Making decisions felt so hard. Part of her wanted to be able to handle it, shove Marlene out of the bed and get over what happened, the nightmare, everything.
The other part whispered in the back of her mind, wondering what the harm could be in letting Marlene take care of her, if only for a little while?
“Cuddle?” Hermione said finally. She didn’t recognize her voice, but decided it was likely raw from screaming during her nightmare.
“Come here, you,” Marlene said, helping Hermione to adjust into her, laying the girl’s head on her chest and carding fingers through her hair.
Hermione settled down, feeling a little awkward at first, until Marlene began to hum a lullaby quietly. Between the contact, the fingers gently combing out her hair, and the soft rumbling of Marlene’s hums, it took no time at all for her to fall back asleep.
***
When Hermione woke later that morning, she was alone once more, though notably tucked into her bed. She yawned and stretched, feeling surprisingly well-rested for having had the Bellatrix nightmare. She heard rustling sounds coming from the kitchen, meaning Marlene was likely cooking breakfast, and decided to join her.
“Morning,” Marlene called. “I hope you slept well.”
“I did,” Hermione mumbled, suddenly feeling shy at remembering Marlene staying in bed with her. “Thank you, by the way.”
“Of course, sweetie,” Marlene said. She finished cooking while Hermione poured herself a cup of coffee and settled at the table. Marlene served her a plate of pancakes before joining her. The two ate in silence for a moment before Marlene spoke.
“I had an owl from Sirius this morning,” she said, and Hermione’s head snapped up. “Harry dropped fully last night, and he’s feeling much better this morning, though not quite ready for company.”
Hermione took in this news, which for some reason weighed heavily on her. Still, she felt grateful that Harry was no longer in pain like he was yesterday, so she nodded and returned to her pancakes.
“I also want to talk to you about last night,” Marlene said lightly, and Hermione could feel the woman weighing her reaction.
“I don’t want to talk about the nightmare,” she replied immediately.
“That’s fine, love, you don’t have to tell me the details right now. But I want to ask if you know how close you were to dropping?”
Hermione’s blood ran cold. Not at all, she wanted to say. Not even a little. She had a moment of weakness; surely anyone would be allowed that after reliving something so terrible? Still, the little voice in her mind whispered, wasn’t it nice to be cared for?
“I had an bad dream,” Hermione finally said softly. “Anyone would feel vulnerable after that.”
Marlene stared at her for a moment, eyebrow raised in the way McGonagall’s had the night of the troll incident her first year, but Hermione didn’t move. She didn’t want to give her any ideas.
“Hermione,” Marlene said, voice dropping to a firm but gentle tone, “surely you felt you were on the edge. I felt it, you know.”
Hermione kept eye contact, but her cheeks flushed at the realization. Of course Marlene could sense it. She was a Caregiver, what kind of Caregiver would she be if she couldn’t sense a Little on the verge of dropping? Still, she bit her lip and refused to say anything, refused to admit that Marlene might be right.
Marlene searched her face a moment more before sighing in defeat.
“Just don’t fight it if you feel it,” she said finally. “Deal?”
“I already told Harry I wouldn’t,” Hermione replied stubbornly.
“I know,” Marlene sighed again, running fingers through her hair. She took a deep breath before changing the subject.“Anyway, I had an idea for today, if you were up to it?”
“What’s that?”
“I thought we could go into Diagon Alley,” Marlene suggested. “Your school list hasn’t arrived yet, but I thought we could shop for other things. Maybe let you get a few things for your room, as well as some things that you would’ve liked as a child? So that we have options for whenever you do drop.”
Hermione scowled at the idea, but then thought it over. She could use a few new books, and Harry’s birthday was coming up as well…
“Can we stop and get Harry a birthday gift?”
“Of course we can.”
***
An hour after lunch and Hermione found herself exiting Flourish and Blotts, tucking a new stack of books into her bag neatly. Marlene had convinced her to get a couple of children’s books as well, but she shoved those to the bottom quickly.
“Alright, what say you to a trip to the toy shop?” Marlene asked. Hermione’s face went beet red at the thought.
“Shh,” she hissed.
“No one’s listening, darling,” Marlene replied, though she took care to drop her voice. “And if anyone asks, we’re shopping for gifts. It’s not even a lie, really, since you haven’t found Harry’s birthday gift yet.”
Hermione glared, but satisfied, she agreed to venture into the toy shop. Her eyes widened as she looked around, amazed at the options wizarding children had to play with as they grew up. She’d been in this store only once before, the summer before her first year, when her fascinated parents escorted her to every single shop as they got her school supplies. The memory caused Hermione to feel a pang of guilt.
“Alright, love?” Marlene asked, noticing her discomfort.
“Fine,” Hermione lied, “just a little overwhelmed, is all.”
“There is a lot going on, Marlene agreed, gesturing to the toys that flew around overhead. “We can save this for another day, if it feels like a little much.”
But Hermione had just spotted a small replica Quidditch pitch, with miniature players flying around playing a match, and she immediately thought of Harry as she drew closer. Upon closer inspection, the players were like small action figures, though incredibly animated and detailed.
“Quidditch fan, Hermione?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “But Harry loves it.” She looked at the sign next to the models, reading over the details.
“Marlene,” she asked, “what does it mean that this set grow with you?”
“Do you know how a wizarding chess set gets to know you and trust you?” Marlene asked. As Hermione nodded, she continued, “these figures will do the same. For very young wizards, they stick to simple scrimmages or even just doing tricks on their brooms. As you get older, they’ll play actual matches for you to watch, and can even simulate matches that have happened in real life for you to sort of replay. Some Quidditch professionals even keep a set around to simulate plays as they think of strategies.”
“That’s amazing,” Hermione said, eyes wide as she watched. “I want to get a set for Harry.”
“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Marlene agreed. She grabbed a box of figurines, designed, of course, to look like the chest that held Quaffles and Bludgers. “I’ll hold this, you do a lap and see if there’s anything else you’d like.”
Hermione opened her out to argue, but just sighed and went off, knowing it would be quicker to do a lap. She walked through aisles of the shop, skimming over different sets of Gobstones and Exploding Snap cards, before she found herself in an aisle of stuffed animals.
“See something you like?” Marlene asked, but Hermione barely heard her, all attention on a stuffed bunny on the shelf in front of her. It was grey with large, floppy ears, and as she reached out to touch it she found it was made of the softest material she’d ever felt.
“Hermione,” Marlene said, bending in close to her ear so she could speak quietly, “would you like to get the bunny?”
Hermione looked up at Marlene, mouth open slightly in excitement.
“Can I?”
“Of course, love. Go on, we’ll get the bunny and head home, hm?”
Hermione reached out and picked up the bunny, holding it timidly. Once it was in her arms, however, the softness sent a warm sensation through her body, her head feeling fuzzy but floaty, like waking from a long nap. She hugged the bunny tight.
“Let’s go, little love,” Marlene said, escorting her to checkout. Hermione didn’t even hear the nickname, solely focused on brushing the soft bunny’s ear against her cheek.