Of Wolves and Men
Tuesday the 3rd of August 1976
"You're not meant to be up and about by yourself, mum’s orders." Hermione spoke, eyes still on her book, only looking up quickly to see Sirius as he tried his best to hobble past the sitting room entrance and towards the main door. “Where are you going anyway?” She added as he stopped and coughed.
“Fresh air?”
“Nice try – Andy isn’t even at home so don’t even bother.” Hermione explained as he limped further into the room, eyes raking down her legs as she laid spread out on one sofa and Marlene on another, frowning at some books.
Sirius sighed, gently tapped her legs which she moved so he could sit himself down, his stiff muscles making him groan. He was making improvement, but there were still scars and a nutritional diet to follow in order to help him gain the weight he had lost in such little time...but mentally it seemed to do little as his nightmares escaped his closed door most nights.
“She’s never at home – I haven’t seen her since I came here.” Hermione opened her mouth and shut it, she had a feeling more was happening in but in the hustle and bustle of everything that had happened, it had been hard to find time to wonder what her parents were keeping quiet.
“I’ll speak to mum tonight.”
Marlene let out a groan, listing her head to glare them both. "Can you all shut up, I'm trying to read."
"The keyword is trying, Marlene." Sirius spoke back with a grin, his eyes dancing slightly, his head spinning around as the front door opened.
"I don't know how you didn't see that one coming." Hermione commented as Marlene glared towards the Sirius, mumbling under her breath what sounded like a whole lot of swear words and names.
“Uncle?” Sirius whispered as Euphemia stepped into the house, the two girls standing and frowning as the tall man followed behind the woman, finding Sirius easily and grinning despite the way James and Remus rushed down the stairs and Lily appeared from the kitchen.
“Apologies, I didn’t know you had a rather large number of guests here.” Alphard spoke softly as Euphemia closed the door, her narrowed eyes and tight lipped smile finding the man.
“I prefer to think of them as family.” Euphemia spoke softly, moving to touch Lily’s chin and smile at Hermione. “Alphard has come to talk to Sirius, behave and wands away.”
“I was hoping I could speak to the boy alone.”
“I don’t tell my children where to go – if Sirius requires privacy then he can ask them, but I highly doubt that will happen.” Euphemia spoke again with a larger smile as Sirius nodded at her words, her hazel eyes turned to her daughter who nodded her head, sitting herself back down on the sofa.
Alphard moved forward into the sitting room, the three children not there following behind him, narrowed eyes and stern expressions.
The older man shifted from foot to foot, slightly nervous, it seemed, to be surrounded and outnumbered by a group of underage witches and wizards. “I won’t hurt him.” No one spoke, instead watching as he gulped and moved to stand before Sirius. “As I’m sure you already know, you’ve blasted from the family tree and Regulus has replaced you as heir.”
“Good luck to him then.” Sirius mumbled, a small inch of sadness crossing his face.
“I..er...I also managed to get this.” Alphard mumbled as he held out a wand, Sirius’ face lighting up and reaching for it without second. Hermione felt her stomach turn with guilt, in her rush to get him out she hadn’t thought to check for his wand.
Something he had reminded everyone in the house about until Fleamont promised to take him to buy a new one when he was better.
“Thanks.”
Alphard nodded, eyes looking around at the light furniture, old and regal like the Black’s, but open and airy, like there was a fresh breeze coming in every direction. A sigh left his mouth as he moved to sit beside Sirius, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He gripped tightly, not that Sirius seemed to mind, and moved away – as close to a hug as he could bring himself it seemed, even in the face of his struggling nephew. “Just uh...Look after yourself, ok Nephew, let your friends and the Potter’s look after you too.” He turned to smile at nervously at Hermione.
A cold smile took over her face as she stared into his eyes. “Always.”
Sirius scoffed, but he wasn’t looking at her but instead Alphard. “So that’s it, you drop off my wand and fuck off?” He asked as his Uncle closed his eyes.
“I don’t want to make myself more unwelcome than I already am.” Alphard explained, holding up his hands. “Listen, Sirius, this house, these people offer you a certain protect that I can’t – you will be safe here and that is more important.” He moved forward to grip Sirius’ chin before patting his cheek affectionately.
“And what about Reg -”
“He’ll be fine - the boy has a sharp mind on him, he knows what he’s getting himself into and I don’t doubt that he knows where to go when he wants out, isn’t that right, Miss Potter?” Sirius silver eyes turned with his Uncle to glare at her, but she stayed her ground.
“Certainty.”
“Your brother will be fine, he’s more like you than you know.”
“That’s not comforting.” Sirius cried as he turned back to face his Uncle, a frown on his face and a growl all but falling from his lips.
“I imagine not.” Alphard agreed, smiling softly before turning back to face Hermione. “Thank you for getting him here and please thank your mother for letting me in – she may revoke my invitation the moment I leave.” Hermione nodded her head.
“Thank you for visiting.” She added, gesturing to the door and following after him, her friends staying behind to watch or force Sirius to stay down.
Alphard stood for a second, the door opening before him and his eyes eagerly scanning the outside before he turned to face Hermione, a tight lipped expression on his face and slightly glassy eyes. “You remind me a bit of him you know.”
Her mouth opened, vile and anger preparing to spew out and tell him what he was worth and where exactly he could shove his wand when he spoke again.
“He, Charlus, would have done same thing -” Her heart stopped slightly and her anger faded as she eagerly waited to hear his next words. “- and he would have been proud to know that his Granddaughter was more Potter than Black, that she would save those she loves above all else – like he did.” He sucked in a breath, seeming to think about his next words. “He was a good Wizard, one of the better ones I’ve met, and I’m sorry that you never really got a chance to see that.”
“Thank you.” Hermione whispered as he nodded his head, heaving one last sigh and a quick look to Sirius, and then stepping out of the door.
She watched him leave, passing through the front garden and opening the gate before turning and disappearing with a crack. Leaving her staring at nothing more than the road before her house and with a slightly aching heart.
…
The knock on her door was gentle – a sign of who was outside without even having to open the piece of wood.
See James would barge in, Marlene would shout for entrance and then enter, Sirius would linger and knock once he was inside – so it either meant Lily or Remus had come to try and break her out of the stupor Alphard Black’s words had left her in.
She was half-tempted to ignore the knocking and go back to laying in her bed, but her friends, even the polite ones, weren’t the sort to walk away when they wanted something. Instead she let out a low growl, glaring as she yanked the pale wood open to reveal Remus.
He stared at her with a soft smile, light green eyes showing nothing but compassion, and each hand gripping a steamy cup of tea. "Mind if I come in?" He asked her softly, like this was something they did everyday.
Hermione frowned but didn’t hesitate to push open her door and grant him entry, popping out her head for a quick second to make sure no one was following him. It was quiet, not a sound coming from any direction of the house, except for behind her where Remus was making himself comfy on her single chair, looking at a pile of books beside him.
A frown still on her, she gently shut the door behind her, moving forward – feeling strangely uncertain in her own room. Like suddenly she didn’t know where to sit or what to talk about or whether she should hide the faint tear tracks on her face.
“Stop fidgeting and sit down.” Remus mumbled as he held out the spare cup of tea, her hands reaching to grab it even as she glared.
“I thought they sent you here because you’re the nice one.” Hermione snapped, sitting down on her bed and taking a sip of her tea. Perfectly made to her liking, not too much milk and no sugar, despite his stern face, Remus knew how to make a good cuppa.
“No one sent me here, I came because I thought you could use some company.” Because she had ran away the moment the door had shut on Alphard and holed herself up in her room with memories of Grandparents long gone – trying to find what had seen in her, what life could have been like if she had stayed with them.
He watched her for a second, like he was waiting for her to speak, eyes darkening slightly and then looking away, a smile taking place on his face and his tea being placed on her desk as he reached for a book. “I didn’t know you had this – it’s one of my favourites.”
Her body relaxed as they drifted away from the matter at hand and instead onto one more familiar for the both of them. “Did your mum read them to you?” Her voice was soft as she pointed to the book in his hand before reaching up to play with necklace that Sirius had given her, that she had never taken off even when they weren’t speaking.
“Yeah, from her point of view they always seemed more magical...and tragic.” He spoke with a soft smile as he ran his fingers over the cover; Fairy Tales of The Brothers Grimm.
Hermione couldn’t stop the snort that left her mouth as she nodded her head in agreement. The real stories were more often than not tragic and cruel, but yet still read to read to children all over the world, to a lesser extent in the Wizarding World, for they had Beedle the Bard and other stories but Hermione hadn’t been able to resist when she saw the book in Godric’s Hollow.
It was no surprise that Remus’ Muggle mother had read him the stories, nor that he liked it so much.
“Personally I always preferred Perrault, his stories and poems seemed to have more meaning to them.” Hermione spoke, pushing away the faint and foggy memory of Marie reading to her, the melodic French seeming to make the whole story sound more beautiful. Or maybe that was her mother’s voice.
Remus frowned as Hermione stood up, moving to her bookshelf and searching for the old battered copy, one that her mother had cherished, pulling it out and offering it to Remus who frowned, his mouth moving to try and pronounce the words without sound.
With a chuckle she took it from him, letting out a cough and pretending to look over glasses to see him. "Le Petit Chaperon Rouge." His eyes seemed slightly glazed and he gulped, looking away with blush on his cheeks, even as she continued.
"On voit ici que de jeunes enfants,
Surtout de jeunes filles,
Belles, bien faites, et gentilles,
Font très mal d’écouter toutes sortes de gens
Et que ce n’est pas chose étrange
S’il en est tant que le loup mange
Je dis le loup, car tous les loups ne sont pas de la même sorte;
Il en est d’une humeur accorte,
Sans bruit, sans fiel et sans courroux,
Qui privés, complaisants et doux,
Suivant les jeunes demoiselles
Jusque dans les maisons, jusque dans les ruelles;
Mais hélas ! qui ne sait que ces loups doucereux,
De tous les loups sont les plus dangereux."
A frown made it’s way to her face as she finished a soft blush on her cheeks. It wasn’t everyday she spoke in French, it wasn’t as instinctual as it had once been – when Marie spoke to her and Charlus continued her learnings, it rumbled through her throat, catching in places and stuttering in others.
Yet it almost felt like coming home, like connecting herself with the mother she had barely known. Her eyes filled with tears as her hand traced over the words, old and slightly faded but there – a part of her mother in an old story that wrapped itself around her heart and burned it’s words into her brain.
Remus coughed softly, her eyes snapping up to meet his own as he offered her a small smile and slight laugh. “No idea what you said but it sounds nice.”
For a second a smile made it’s way to her own face, her mouth opening to translate before a frown took it’s place and she gulped. “Oh it’s...erm...nothing important...it probably wouldn’t sound as good in English anyway.” A lie, and so boldly so that Remus raised his eyebrows and let out a scoff.
“Why don’t I be the judge of that?”
“Nothing to judge, Remus, just leave it alone.”
“Hermione…” She had never been able to deny him things, to soft with their friendship and too doting, that a single look of those green eyes had her glaring and turning back to look at the book, trying to ignore the flush on her cheeks or the thoughts of an older Professor Remus, who had given Granger the same look many times.
“We see here that young children,
Especially young girls,
Beautiful, well done, and nice,
It can hurt to listen to all kinds of people
And that it is not a strange thing
As it’s as long as the wolf eats
I say the wolf, because not all wolves are the same kind;
If he is in a good mood,
Without noise, without gall and without wrath,
Who are private, complacent and sweet,
Following young ladies
Into the houses, and even in the alleys;
But alas! Who does not know that these sweet wolves,
Of all the wolves are the most dangerous."
Hermione sucked in a breath, daring to look up at Remus who was watching her with an expression that made her heart ache slightly and her hands want to pull him into her arms and wrap him into a hug – all while cursing herself for being so ignorant.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered softly as he looked away from her, his jaw clenching and his whole posture stiff. “I tried to – I shouldn’t have read it – I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean it to relate to -”
“Hermione -”
“- Maman and Charlus always used to say it was more to do with keeping little girls safe from the wrong kind of men, that we had to be careful -”
“Hermione.” Remus snapped, and suddenly he was before her, eyes glinting with a slight gold as his hand laid softly on her shoulder and an amused, but kind smile on his face as he gave her a little laugh with minimum tension. “Relax, I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” Despite everything, hurt still flashed behind his eyes as Hermione tensed.
“Of course not.” Her voice was sharp as Remus flinched away from her slightly, eyes going wide as she threw the book onto her desk without a care. “And I’m sure he didn’t either, except a simple metaphor – so you better not be getting into your head about this.”
“I’m not.” Hermione scoffed as Remus moved to sit beside her.
“You’re a liar Remus Lupin, and one day you are going to realise you deserve better than everyone else – hopefully before you end up with a good wife and a child on the way.” Her voice rose slightly as she glared at her friend, almost picturing the bubble gum haired girl and their beautiful boy – together and happy as they should have been,
“I don’t – Hermione?” Remus whispered as she looked away, her bottom lip wobbling and her eyes filling with tears.
He deserved better. He always had – he didn’t deserve the ending he had gotten, his whole family turned apart in a war that should have been finished. A man who had been through too much in his not long life and ended up dead.
No she wasn’t going to let that happen to him. Not now and not ever.
A promise she swore to herself as she turned to look him in the eye, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks as he frowned at her, looking torn between leaving her alone and pulling her into a hug. A small smile made it’s way onto her face as she decided for him – reaching and wrapping him into her arms like he needed the comfort.
His hand reached around her back, rubbing and shushing her – he smelt like grass and kind of doggish, like the comforting smell of a pet, which she wasn’t going to tell him – not even as she pushed her face into the slight crook of his neck, his voice rumbling against her ear. “I’m not stupid enough to know this is just about me.”
She wished she could say it was, but so much just felt out of control and confusing lately, that all she could do was keep taking the punches. Her mouth opened to speak but nothing came out.
“But I’m here if you ever need to talk – about your Maman, your grandparents, your parents – Sirius – I’m here.” She didn’t doubt it for a second but something told her it would be rather cruel to do that to him when he had his own problems.
Instead she pulled away, offering him a smile and wiping at her wet cheeks. Another promise sealed into her heart, right next to her brother’s. Another person who needed to see his son grow up.
...
Wednesday the 19th of August 1976
Hermione bit back a laugh from where she laid on the soft grass, curls spread around her and eyes pretending to read the words on her book instead of tracing the two boys flying above her, their voices carrying through the morning air.
Her eyes moved past the pages as a boy with longer black waves zoomed past her, a now rare grin on his face as James followed. His silver eyes sparkled in a way that made her heart clench, and his cheeks were a rosy sort of pink that looked far to pretty on him. Though she doubted that he would be able to make anything look ugly.
It was just...these past couple of weeks had been harder than any of them wanted to admit.
Full of nightmares, cold eyes and barely there smiles. A lingering air of trauma around a boy, a man, who had once been the one to crack jokes, to grin and poke fun, now it was like trying to pull teeth to even get him to have fun.
Not that it was any different with James, who seemed to have taken what had happened as a reason to grow, spending his days making sure his best friend was alright, that Sirius kept functioning whether he wanted to or not.
Which was why she was content, happy even, to lay here and listen to the pair of them, to be swept up in his grin and her brothers laugh. That she could pretend that there wasn’t a nagging feeling that something else was going to go wrong and mess all of this up.
“Mi’, are you going to join us?” James shouted, Hermione blinked, frowning as he all but hanged upside down above her, glasses slipping dangerously off his face and hair even messier than usual.
“When have I ever done that?” Hermione asked back with a teasing grin as James straightened himself and lowered himself to hover over the ground beside her. “No, I’m quite happy to lay here with my book.” She added as James rolled his eyes and moved to hover beside Sirius who was grinning down at her.
“And I am quite happy to watch you lay there reading your book…would be even better if you – ow!”
A small laugh left her mouth as James reached out to punch Sirius’ shoulder, cutting off his sentence, and starting a little brawl between the pair. Something that didn’t seem all that safe considering their brooms ebbed under the wavering weight of the teenage boys and their punches.
Once upon of time she would have cared about what Sirius would say, she had last year – had even told him to stop it – but for now, she didn’t care. She didn’t care if he made a joke at her expense, or if it was something slightly more sexual than it should be between two ‘friends’ – all she cared about was the smile that made it’s way to his face and the way his eyes lightened.
And watching them now, it seemed they were both finding a small amount of joy in behaving as they once would have before the problems and almost murders.
“...beat you.” James was hissing out, gripping the end of his broom like he was preparing to swing it, despite the fact that he was sat on the other end.
“You’ll have to catch me first.” Sirius grinned, moving away as James narrowed his eyes, reaching out to try and grip the tail of the broom only for it to slip out of his grasp and for his own broom to jolt under the sudden change of weight.
“Dick.”
“Language, James!” Hermione dug her head back into the ground to see Euphemia stood in the back door. There was a frown etched between her eyebrows, and her usual amused smile was gone – replaced instead by a tensed jaw and concerned eyes that settled on Hermione. “I think you all better come inside for the minute.”
It wasn’t a command but yet each teenager frowned, Hermione stood up, her book clenched in her hand as she turned to look at James as he settled beside her, swinging off his broomstick and throwing it to the floor without a care.
“What do you think happened?” His words were whispered to her even as Sirius joined them, suddenly pale and terrified as Hermione frowned herself.
“Something...are you alright, Sirius?” Hermione spoke softly, placing a hand on his arm as the three of them made their way to the door. His silver, though seeming more grey now, eyes turned to her and then to James – unsure.
“Do you think...do you think she’s sending me home?” The Potter siblings stopped in the doorway, turning with matching expressions to face the boy now looking a second away from breaking down before them.
“No – no – it’s not that.” Hermione whispered as James nodded.
“She’s been keeping something from us for a while – I suspect she’s letting us know now before it comes out.” James answered, inclining his head and motioning for all of them to move.
Hermione and Sirius followed behind him, her stomach dropping with every step towards the sitting room where they could hear their mother softly talking to someone. For a second she wanted to turn, to run upstairs and hide from whatever was about to happen, but almost like he knew, James turned and levelled her with a look, reaching out his hand for her to take.
Hermione could have laughed, nearly seventeen and scared to have a conversation with her mother about whatever had happened without holding her brothers hand. Still she took it, letting him pull her into the room.
“Andy?” Her eyes flashed up as Sirius took a careful step into the room.
Andromeda sat on one of the sofas, across from Euphemia, her back as straight as a rod, bags under her eyes and her hair looking dull. She didn’t smile as she saw them, instead there was a slight look of panic on her face and her hand was reaching to stroke the back of a sleeping Dora beside her.
Hermione moved further into the living room, looking away from her cousin and instead to the large amount of letters on the coffee table – her name on everyone.
“Where have you been?” Sirius asked, sounding like a hurt puppy as James guided him to sit beside Hermione.
She looked up for a brief second at the woman, a twist of anger in her gut before looking at James who seemed to feel the same. Andy didn’t smile, her whole body seeming to sag as she looked at her cousin, the one member of her family that had been by her side despite everything.
“I was...I...I’m not sure that’s important now.” Her voice was soft and her dark eyes looked to Hermione for a second as the younger witch scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Hermione.”
“Not like your own cousin being tortured was important enough for you to stop by.” It wasn’t a question and Andy flinched as she noticed the anger in Hermione’s face, turning to look at James who was shaking his head and staring at the fireplace.
“I wasn’t...I did want to come by.” Andy defended as Hermione rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut as Sirius scoffed, instead reaching for her letters and wondering why her mother had dragged them all inside for this when clearly it should have been between Sirius and Andy, without James and Hermione adding their judgment.
“Clearly.” Sirius hissed out, his leg bouncing beside her.
Her free hand reached out before she could stop it, settling on his knee with a gentle pressure as she read her first letter with the other. Mi’, don’t do anything stupid – I’m going to try and come round. Yes, I know you probably don’t want no fuss but I am not letting you go through this without knowing I’m there. I’ll see you soon. Lils’
A frown made way to her face as she gently placed Lily’s confusing letter beside her, reaching for the next. Dads going to drop me off in Godric’s Hollow. I’ll be there soon. – Moony. A quick check of the name on the front told her it was for her, but it didn’t stop her from passing to James who frowned.
“Sirius, there is more happening – and I couldn’t just come here for…”
“For me?”
Hermione frowned, moving to pick up the next letter as Sirius and Andy glared at each other across the room. Fuck my family. I’m coming home. Mar. It was probably the most normal letter and yet Hermione couldn’t stop the twisting in her gut.
“So what I went through...what Hermione and James had to get me out of just wasn’t important for you.” Sirius snapped as Hermione pulled back her hand and looked up quickly as Andromeda narrowed her eyes. “At least now I’ll know for next time not to expect my cousin to give a shit.” His words hissed out of him like ice.
“That’s not fair!” Andy snapped, her voice raising as Euphemia let out a breath, shaking her head. “You have no idea what’s been happening in my life!”
“I doubt it was being tortured and starved!”
Hermione looked away, moving her hand back onto Sirius’ leg as he glared at Andy, a small sniffle heard throughout the room. The next letter in her hand was longer, and clearly from Zach with his loopy writing, but more confusing than the others. Hermione, I know you’re not the type to beat around the bush, or to have people pussyfoot around you. So I’ll get straight to the point, I saw the paper this morning and I needed to make sure you were ok…
A hiss left her mouth and a soft cry left James’ as the parchment was snatched out of her fingers, a small line of red following where the paper had dug into the soft skin of her finger. “Mum.”
“I think everybody needs to calm down, there is a lot to discuss and a lot of confusion at this moment...Hermione, put the letter down.” Euphemia spoke softly as Hermione stared at the small note in her hand, crisp and firm, the words smaller and more difficult to read.
Dear Miss H.P – I know I have asked for a lot, but the next thing I ask of you now will possibly be one of the hardest things for you to agree to, and for me to ask it, I require that you stay at home. The greater good is hanging precariously, and soon, we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy. A.P.W.B.D
“The Greater good...what does…” James muttered beside her as a fury unravelled in Hermione’s chest, the piece of paper being scrunched into nothing more than a small ball and shoved into her pocket, out of prying eyes.
“What’s happened, mum?” Hermione asked, her voice like ice as she turned to look at the only mother she had truly ever known in this life. The woman who had raised her despite the lack of blood between them, who had treated her as nothing more than a daughter.
Who was now sat looking at her with such concern, her hands shaking as she gripped Zach’s note – who had somehow managed to get Andy here, even after two months of saying she couldn’t. Who looked a second away from being sick or wrapping Hermione in her arms.
“Mum?”
“He’s out.” The three teens turned to see Fleamont and Ted walk into the room, the same downcast and worried expressions on their faces, though they moved to different wives and checked on different children. Fleamont turned his head to Andy, and nodded. “It’s done.”
“What’s done?” Sirius asked with a frown as Hermione sucked in a shaky breath, those strange blue/green eyes turning back to her and conveying all she needed to know. “And who’s out?”
“They passed the bill?” Hermione asked, her voice strangely calm as James sucked further into the sofa beside her, his hand reaching out to grab her own.
“It will be in the paper tomorrow.” Fleamont spoke, moving away from his wife to sit on the coffee table before her, hands clasped on his lap and tension in every muscle. “Now I know this is a lot, and it’s something you’ve always been worried about, but I need to know what you would like to do?”
“What I would like to do?”
“Andy and Ted are going into hiding.”
“What!” Sirius shouted, head snapping around to look at where the Tonks’ all sat curled up on the sofa, Dora still fast asleep and unaware of what was even happening at this moment. Hermione took a deep breath, staring at the almost four year old, her hair an odd sort of mousy brown in her sleep and her freckles on show.
“Someone, I assume it’s Bella, has been sending letters – graphic and cruel about what she will do when she finds the traitorous family members – we thought we would be safe just staying in our house but...but…” Andy’s bottom lip wobbled as she stroked her daughters hair and leaned further into Ted who took over with a sigh.
“Lately there have been some...well some strange people hanging around, almost tormenting us – so we’ve decided it would be safer if we hid somewhere – somewhere no one can find us.” He didn’t say it but everyone in the room could hear it. The slight indication that not even they would be able to visit.
“I don’t…”
“Andy and Ted have suggested the idea of you going to stay with them for a while.” Fleamont spoke, turning to Hermione whose mouth fell open in shock. “The only problem that comes with that is you won’t be able to leave – not even for school.” Stuck in a house, barred from the outside world and everything that came with it.
“You’re sending me away?” Hermione whispered as James glared at his father, his hand reaching out to hold Hermione’s.
“Not at all, my dear, we are trying to give you the choice you’ve always wanted.” Euphemia added, tears trailing down her tawny skin, mouth turning into a frown.
“You’ll be seventeen soon, a woman within the rights of our society and free to do as you please – we are not naive enough to think that you won’t do whatever choice you think is right.” Her father spoke, leaning forward and giving her a sad knowing smile. “And we would rather know you are somewhere safe than running away at a moments notice.”
“If they decide to go through with it then I can’t stay here any longer.” Her voice wobbled as she looked at the panicked eyes, her stomach twisting in pain. “I refuse to put any of you in danger – you are my family and I won’t let him take that away.”
Fleamont let out a laugh, moving towards her to bend down to her eye level, his own eyes strangely glazed. “My fierce daughter, my daughter, if you think we are going to let you go anywhere in the name of our protection then we haven’t done a very good job raising you.” He chuckled warily at the end.
“I won’t -”
“It is our job to protect you, it always has been, and we will not be handing our responsibilities to someone else.” Fleamont added, cutting her off as Euphemia nodded her head and wiped her wet cheeks.
That is what they had said last year, when she had wanted to leave, when she had fought then on leaving, when she had warned them about Octans. They had made her stay, had wanted her to stay, but now they were trying to send her away...
“What if...what if I wanted to stay here?” The words were timid, almost childlike as she stared at her father, biological or not, all but begging him to say what he had said the year before. To pull her into his arms and show her everything she needed.
“Then you stay.” A small smile made it’s way to his face and his hand reached out to take hers from James’ and grip it tightly. He was happy with her choice no matter what happened.
“And what about all of you? How would I know that me staying here would be safe for everyone else?” Hermione whispered, turning to quickly look at James and then Sirius. “How would I know Andy, Ted and Dora are safe if I stay with them?” The Tonks’ backs stiffened and their eyes stared straight ahead. They had already thought about it and still offered.
“That’s something we can never guarantee.” Fleamont whispered, reaching up to wipe away the tear trailing down her cheek. “We have all heard the story of Octans, we have no doubt that he might have an interest in seeing you – but we can promise that we will do everything in our power to make our home as safe as it can be – that your life will be safe.” Warmth and love settled in her chest as panic waged a war in her head.
“I don’t want to run away from this.” It tasted bitter on her tongue, to admit what everyone knew. “But I can’t put you all in any kind of risk.”
“Risk is something that comes when you care about people – we are no more at risk now than we were yesterday.” His eyes drifted to Euphemia who sobbed silently. “Our family are actively fighting against those who seek to do harm, we have not shied away from it – we take the risk because it is better to have lived our lives with love and family than to have not.”
Despite the drama and the seemingly never ending problems, Hermione had lucked into this family. A family who had happily taken her in and raised as their own, putting themselves in harms way just so she could live a better life.
“I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to -”
“There would never be anything to forgive.”Fleamont spoke with a scoff as Euphemia let out a small sad laugh. “Your mother and I would die for everyone in this room, our family, and we would do it without resentment and anger.” Hermione didn’t doubt that for a second but it didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“You’re our daughter, our responsibility and it is our job to keep you safe.” Euphemia spoke, smiling much softer now and a strong determination in her eyes. “So we will keep you safe.”
“But Andy -”
“Aunt Effie and Uncle Flea are right – and I wish...Merlin, do I wish we could stay here but we need to keep Dora safe, and all of you – and we need to stay out of the public eye and away from any flies on the wall.” Andy explained, her own sad smile taking over her face as she looked down at her daughter. “Better to make harder to find all of us.” Or so they can survive if the Potter’s didn’t.
Hermione didn’t blame her there. The Slytherin self preservation won out – as did the Hufflepuff loyalty – their daughter came first. And their daughter would be at risk if they all stayed here and the Deatheaters came knocking.
It would be easier to be away. Safer for them, especially if no one in the room knew where they were.
“But when will we see you again?” Sirius spoke, all anger from before seemingly gone as he stared at his cousin with wide eyes.
“I don’t know...but this isn’t forever.”
…
Hermione laid awake in her bed, still dressed in her clothes and unable, or not wanting, to move.
Her mind ran through a thousand different thoughts, the panic of the day clinging to her body even as her tears dried out and a bone shaking kind of tired remained. She wanted it over, wanted every problem gone – her brain begging to find the answers to questions she didn’t even know she had.
“Oh...you are here.” Her eyes moved to see James, stood by her slightly open door and slipping in without a second thought as she sighed at him. “I thought you would be with Sirius.” She frowned as James moved further into the room, jumping to lay beside her.
“I was but...I just need some space.” Hermione admitted, leaning her head onto his shoulder as he got comfy beside her. “Remus’ is still there though, so he won’t be alone if the...if his nightmares come back.” Her throat tightened as she thought of Sirius, thrashing in his bed, residual pain and tension settling in his bones.
“He’ll be alright.” James whispered back, resting his own head on top of hers. “I think we’re all a bit more worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“But you don’t have to be if you don’t want to be.” She knew that. Merlin, she knew that but how do you explain to someone that it’s not as easy as breaking down and crying over something she can’t control. That there are things that are bigger than Octans and a corrupt Ministry.
“I expected it to happen, it’s nothing I haven’t been prepared for – now I just actually get to add it to the list of growing problems I have.” She spoke, settling for cryptic instead, and for somehow hoping that he will be able to figure it out for himself.
“Maybe you should talk about some of those problems instead of letting them fester.”
“James…”
“I’m here to listen, so how about we start with...oh I don’t know...that note Dumbledore sent you.” Her brother could do many things but subtle and nonchalance is not one of them. His hazel eyes flicker back and forth and his lips purse, it’s slightly amusing even with the panic settling in her bones.
“Why do you think it’s Dumbledore?” She asked, calmly, looking back to the ceiling.
“Dear Miss H.P – I know I have asked for a lot, but the next thing I ask of you now will possibly be one of the hardest things for you to agree to, and for me to ask it…” The letter is gone from his hands in a second, possibly tearing at the skin but she doesn’t care about that at the moment as she scrunches up the letter, throwing it to the corner of the room.
“Where did you get that?” She hissed out as she pulled herself off her bed to glare at her brother, his hazel eyes slightly narrowed as he sat himself up.
“Does it matter?”
“Did you show it to Remus and Sirius too?”
“No – this has nothing to do with them.”
“It has nothing to do with you.” Hermione snapped, hands pulling at the curls and sock covered feet padding softly against the floor as James moved to sit at the end of the bed.
He didn’t seem put off by her anger. Didn’t even move to answer her question but simply stared at her, like he knew all her dirty secrets and was waiting for her to crack. It irked her, like she was sitting before Dumbledore and his knowing twinkling eyes.
But this wasn’t an old man playing some game and waiting for people to get in line, this was her brother - concerned and worried about her. So worried that he kept it from his best friends, that he stole a letter and came to her room. That his expression has softened and he looks so worried, and slightly annoyed.
“Hermione what does Dumbledore mean ‘I have asked for a lot’, what has he asked you to do?” His words are sharp and Hermione can’t stop the way her heart beats a second too fast and her brain feels foggy and slow.
Because once again she was being put into a situation by Albus fucking Dumbledore. “He shouldn’t have written a letter – this could have fallen into anyone’s hands.” Her words were whispered and she wants to take them back the moment they are out but her mouth is moving before she can stop it. “I mean how stupid can he be.”
“Hermione?” James’ voice cracked as he pushed himself up from the bed. “What has he asked you to do?” He stands before her, taller than a few weeks ago and looking more and more like a man, like his son, with every passing day.
“It’s not what he’s asked me to do but what he’s going to ask me to do – I’ve done enough – I’ve done more than my fair share or I will when he lets me.” She snapped, turning away from him and trying her best to blink away the tears.
“Let’s you?”
She didn’t hear his question, the panic taking over and pushing it away, instead she whispered to herself. “For nearly a decade I’ve been waiting to do what I was supposed to do and I’ve been denied the ability to do it – who does he think he is to add more onto that now!” Shut up! Her brain screamed at her.
“A decade…? He asked you to do something when you were six...seven?” James looks confused as he moves around to grip her shoulders, to hold her in place so he can bend slightly to look in her eyes.
“Yes...no...it’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it then.” He speaks like it’s easy and maybe it should be, maybe she should tell him everything.
The words almost leave her mouth, stopped by her logically screaming brain. There would be no coming back from this, no way to truly make him understand. How does she explain that she have been living a half lie since the moment she arrived here?
He didn’t deserve the lies, the secrets that he would have to keep on her life. He didn’t need to be dragged into this when it’s already ten times harder than it should be. It’s her mission, and he’s her brother, and it’s her job and responsibility to keep him safe – to keep him alive and to make sure he watches his beautifully annoying son grow up.
“Jamie, it’s nothing...just leave it alone.” It hurt her to say, as he frowned, almost looking disappointed in her as tears drip down her cheeks.
“What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are you lying to me?” He pushed himself away from her, annoyance creeping into every word that leaves his mouth as he glares down at her. “I’m your brother, I’ve stood by your side through thick and thin – nothing comes before you and I thought it was the same for you…”
His words die out like a flame and Hermione’s heart clenched as she took a step forward. “It is...it always has been...you have no idea – no idea what I have...what I will do to make sure you are safe.” It’s not enough and she knew that, even before James scoffs.
“No I don’t because you won’t fucking tell me.” She can count on one hand the amount of times they’ve had a serious argument – one that ended with words being said and anger. But this felt different, it felt like they are boarding on something dangerous, and she’s not quite sure for who.
“Have you ever thought that the things I don’t tell you are for your own fucking good? To keep you safe?” Hermione snapped back with a glare, poking a finger into his chest as he blinked down at her. “You don’t know a fucking thing, James, and trust me – if you did then you would wish you didn’t,”
Hermione thinks of him laid dead in his future home, not even a wand to protect himself – his wife trying to plead for their child’s life upstairs. A child that would grow up an orphan with a weight on his back that no one should have had to deal with.
Who had to witness his parents murder through their said murderer. Whose worst fear was Dementors because they forced him to hear his mothers last words. Who soaked in every memory he could of his parents through other people. Who died for the Greater Good.
She thinks that James wouldn’t want to know that. He wouldn’t want to hear of suffering so she lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “Just...just drop it, please.”
“No.” He whispered the word and panic fills her again as he reached for her shoulders, her mouth opening but he cut her off with a shake of his head. “I want to know...and I’m not going to stop until you tell me what the hell you and Dumbledore are involved in.”
“What if I can’t tell you everything?” Hermione whispered back, a mixture of relief and worry flooding her, the need to fold and say everything stronger than ever before.
“Then I’ll settle for what you can say...for now.”
“Then promise me that what I tell you doesn’t leave this room – that it stays between us no matter what happens.” Hermione spoke. She can back out, she can tell a lie but James was looking at her with a mixture of worry and determination, and suddenly she was so tired of hiding everything.
James stared at her for a second before nodding his head. “I promise.”
“This war is going to last a lot longer than people think, it might end for a few years but it will continue after a while, and it will be messy – far too many people will have died and too much will have been lost.” She sneaks a quick glance at him but he remains focused on her. “So Dumbledore will develop a plan, a safe guard of some sort – to send someone back so it can be ended once and for all – only it didn’t quite work out how I think he wanted.” She cuts herself off as James frowned.
“How would you know all of this?” She’s sure somewhere that he already knows the answer, that he is putting 1+1 together, but she knows this is a lot to take and how it sounds.
“Because I’m that person – or I suppose a part of me is through memories.” Her voice is even softer as he blinks at her. “I’m aware that it’s impossible and absurd…”
“Completely absurd.” James agreed with a gulp, rubbing his hands over his face before letting out a small laugh. “Why did you never tell me?”
Hermione blinked back, a small smile forming on her face as he looks at her. “Wait...you believe me?” It tugged at her heart strings and made her want to wrap her arms around his waist, to thank whoever might be up there for giving her James.
“Yeah...I mean I won’t lie and say you don’t sound a bit insane but…” He stopped for a second, nodding his head like he agrees with himself. “It kind of makes sense – you’ve always just known things, and I always chalked it up to you being smart...but I don’t know, I always just thought there was more...and I’m guessing there still is.” He raised his eyebrows at her as she pursed her lips.
“That’s...I’m not getting into that...not when I’m trying to fix it.” She admitted, but this is where she cuts herself off. This is where she drew the line and refused to get into, because what happened won’t happen now – five years from now her brother will be breathing and happy.
“That’s fine.” He muttered, moving to sit back on the bed and giving her a sad smile. “I think I could probably take a guess as to what might happen, and I don’t think either of us want that.”
Hermione nods her head as she moves to sit beside him, leaving enough space and refusing to take his hand like she might normally do, instead she looks at him through her curls. “Are you angry?”
“I probably should be but no.” She believes him, silent tears dripping down her face as she nods and allows herself a small victory.
It’s not much, and she knows this could easily backfire, but it feels so good to have someone else know – someone she trust. It soothes the ache of her heart and the tiredness in her bones, makes her feel younger and known.
And she allows herself the comfort of her brother as he wraps her in a hug, his cheek resting on top of her hair and his soft words like a lullaby that eases her into a dreamless sleep – away from murdering fathers, unknown futures and any other problem that likes to spring itself up at any unfortunate moment.
...
Despite the deep sleep, and protesting back from where she woke up curled in a ball, wrapped in her blankets with James asleep sitting against her wall, she still feels bone tired and slightly off. Like having a cold without the physical symptoms.
She doesn’t bother with showering and dressing, opting for her comfy pyjamas and socks as she moves down the stairs in search for a hug from her mother and a cup of tea from her father. She’ll allow herself this day to mope and be sad, to let her brother, Sirius and Remus do whatever they think they need to do to cheer her up and then tomorrow she’ll pick herself and move on.
Octans is out. There is nothing she can do, and if she’s being honest with herself – nothing she can do without getting herself into a bunch of shit.
James knows enough. And there is no point worrying about what he might do because he doesn’t know enough.
And there’s Dumbledore...whose sat in her sitting room with her mother, a small cup of tea in his hand and twinkling blue eyes that are looking straight at her.
“Mum...what is he doing here?”
“Hermione!” Euphemia exclaimed, a hand on her heart and cheeks turning red, looking thoroughly embarrassed by her daughter. “Prof-Albus, I am very sorry...I...well...Hermione has never quite remembered her manners in the morning, though that is not an excuse for rudeness.” Her hazel eyes glare at Hermione for a second.
“Forgive me.” It’s mumbled and not at all authentic but it appeases her mother and Dumbledore seems amused nonetheless.
“It is nothing, my dear, I myself struggle in the morning and I suspect after yesterday, it might be more trying than usual.” His tone is calm but there is a flash in Euphemia’s eyes as Hermione grits her teeth and looks away.
“Perhaps Albus, we could -”
“I was hoping we would be able to talk, Miss Potter.” Dumbledore cuts over her mother and Hermione can’t stop herself from narrowing her eyes. She might have been rude but there was no reason.
“Do I have a choice?” A raised brow and Dumbledore all but chuckles, turning his eyes to Euphemia who seems to be wondering the same thing – her hazel eyes glinting with agitation, her clenched tightly in her lap.
“Honestly, Albus, I don’t think this is the best time – Hermione needs to be with her family and any conversation you would like to have can wait until the start of term.” She speaks as though it’s final, and it would have been with anyone else but Dumbledore is not James or Hermione, he doesn’t flinch at the tone or nod his head.
His eyes simply stop twinkling and his cup is placed on the coffee table. “It won’t take long, Euphemia – though somewhere with more privacy would be better.”
Her mothers lips purse and her eyes flicker to Hermione, a small nod of the head, the sound of footsteps about and waking teenage boys. “Fine, Flea’s office should be suitable.” Euphemia speaks sternly as she stands, Hermione and Dumbledore following, stopping outside the door. “No more than twenty minutes, Albus.”
“Of course.” Dumbledore answers, passing the woman. Hermione follows slower, giving her mum a quick look as the doors shut behind them, Dumbledore waving his wand to no doubt lock and silence them.
She moved around the other side of the desk, towards her fathers seat while Dumbledore looks around, eyes taking in everything, hands reaching to touch things that don’t belong to him until he settles in front of the family portraits, the four Potter’s stood together and looking like a happy family.
“I was sorry to hear the news of your father…”
“I’m going to assume you don’t mean my father but Octans...in which case, I will assure you, Sir, it wasn’t surprising.” Hermione replied as she sits herself on the rather comfy chair, swivelling a bit and letting herself smile at the photos her father kept on his desk.
One of him and Euphemia, very young, perhaps not much older than her now. The photo is almost yellow in colour, their arms wrapped around each other and cloaks moving in the wind as their heads turned to cast glances at one another. It’s sweet, and she can see James in each of them, perhaps a bit of herself too in Fleamont.
“I imagine not – though I will admit, I was worried on how you would be handling this whole situation – given everything else you have to deal with.” If he’s looking at her then she doesn’t know, instead she focuses on the picture of her and James.
They must have been about nine or ten, sat on the floor in the sitting room, playing some game that involves slapping hands and laughing at each other. Innocent looking and perfectly happy, it makes her smile.
“I am sure you are aware, Sir, of how well I can deal with a number of things I am not allowed to do anything about.” Hermione finally answers, looking away from the photos and towards her Headmaster. “But I suspect that’s why you are here, to remind me of your stance on things.” She raises an eyebrow and smiles coldly.
“Not entirely.” There’s something in his words that makes her frown and her stomach twist. “You see, Miss Potter, I am worried about how much of a toil this whole thing will take on you, how long it will take for the cracks to start showing.”
Hermione scoffed, leaning further back into the chair and reaching to run a hand through her curls. “And it just so happens to be that you think these cracks are showing the month before I turn seventeen and you are no longer entitled to treat me like a child.”
His eyes stop twinkling and his mouth twists into a frown. “You always think the worst of me – I inform you, I want nothing but the best for you – and for you to live the life my future self so desperately wanted.” The words are almost honeyed, dipped in the sweetest of sugar, almost tempting her to take them. To believe them.
Yet it seems he has forgotten their conversations, forgotton the memories she holds in her head, but for a second she sees an old man with far too much power and a wish to do what is right.
He has the whole Wizarding World all but bowing to his feet, even their enemies respect and fear him, they know they don’t stand a chance. And she can see it now, how he expects the same from her, for her to give in.
Yet here she stands, on the edge of adulthood, refusing to back down and with harsh words pouring from her tongue. “You want a pawn you can move around on your chessboard – you want someone you can control, someone who will move only when you tell them to.” His mouth opens and closes, almost like a fish.
“Miss Potter -”
“You expect a lot of me, Sir, and yet you fail to see that I am not, nor have I ever been, someone to bow down and do as they are asked simply for the ‘Greater Good’.” His eyes turn cold but she isn’t finished. “I told you I wasn’t going to stand aside and wait around – I told you what I would do…”
“And I warned you about what would happen if you went against my word.”
“I do not take too lightly to insults, Miss Potter, and I think it would do you a great deal of good to remember just how dangerous it could be to insult and disrespect someone much more powerful than yourself.”
“I am no longer interested in your word or anything you have to say.” Something, someone, inside her head tells her to shut up as his wand moves from his sleeve to his hand, long fingers sliding over the wood.
“I had always hoped I could save you from this – I never wanted to do this.” It’s exactly like it had always been, the Elder Wand, Dumbledore’s wand – it sends shivers down her spine and makes her think to the cloak her brother has packed away. “Magic is a terrific thing, and yet so dangerous in some people.” Bright blue eyes look away as he shakes his head. “I should have seen it sooner, it has only grown stronger with your age – like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.”
“My magic is fine.” It’s not. It’s flooding her veins with panic as her eyes look towards the door and her body leaves the chair. Flight or fight infects her brain and brings a new more intense wave of panic.
“There have been moments I have ignored because I wanted to believe it was nothing, but...I can not simply allow you to continue this way – it is unsafe for yourself and others.” It’s unsafe for him to have someone so unwilling to follow him.
His step closer sends her backwards and makes her curse herself for leaving her wand in her room, her eyes flickering towards the doors as they creak under her stare. “If you do whatever it is you are going to do then the war is truly lost – you must know that, Sir.”
“My dear, I am not going to -” Flight takes over, her body moving around the desk and through the doors as they burst open, hitting the walls with a loud bang.
Her eyes fill with tears as she looks around the entrance hall, her eyes trying to keep up with the speed her brain is moving, like everything is in a blur.
“Hermione?” Hazel eyes and tawny skin, a soft voice and warm hands reaching out to stop her in her tracks. Her mother stood like a beacon against a darkening spiralling world.
It should offer her comfort but Dumbledore is there again, purple robes and white beard, eyes staring down at her and it sends a whole new level of fear through her that has her stumbling backwards as something creaks in another room.
“I need -”
“You need to calm down, my dear.” Dumbledore speaks but he almost looks as though he expected this – Hermione lets out a small sob as her throat closes slightly, the ability to think about anything other than the hole her mind is dragging her in.
It almost feels as if she’s dying. Like her body is closing down on her – cutting of oxygen and rationality.
“What is happening?” Jamie. His name beats against her heart and she breaths in a bit more, but it’s not enough and she’s aware they are all watching her, silver and light green eyes joining her brother and reaching out for her.
Dumbledore moved, cutting them off from view, wand still in his hand. Something else creaks in the distance, like glass beginning to shatter making the whole house stop, except Euphemia, her eyes burning as she turns to look at Dumbledore.
“I told you not to push her, Albus.” Hermione has never heard her mother sound so furious in her life, not at Dumbledore, she would laugh if she could get enough air and her whole body didn’t feel like it was about to shut down. “Hermione, love – just breath.”
“I can’t...what...is...happening?” Each words takes too much effort to get out, her legs nearly buckling under the strain and her whole face feeling far too warm and wet. A ringing starts in her ears as her fingers feel like electric. “My head…”
“I think she’s having a panic attack.” Remus’ voice sounds far away, hard to make sense of and she wants to fight him on it but she can’t. “Maybe we should give her some space.”
“Miss Potter -” Bright blue eyes replace her mothers, her throat closing up slightly as he reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder. “You understand now -” No, she doesn’t fucking understand. Doesn’t understand what it happening here.
“You...you...did this to me.”
“Euphemia, I think it’s time we get Miss Potter to a safer location.”
“What!” Her mother shouts, cutting through the slight fog before the ringing gets louder. “No – no I think you need to leave.”
“Miss Potter is experiencing something close to a magical…”
“She’s having a panic attack…one you no doubt caused!” James moves forward, pushing himself between Euphemia and Dumbledore to hold Hermione’s hands and to brush curls away from her face. He doesn’t turn with the rest when the cracking gets louder, only grips her hands tighter. “Breathe Mi’...”
“Jamie…” It’s a whimper, like a wounded animal. Her legs wavering as a black ring grows stronger before her eyes. “I don’t...I don’t want to do this any more…”
She’s not sure she gets the words out, but somehow she finds the strength to step away from her brother as the blackness takes a stronger hold, her hand reaching out to stop her legs from falling as the cracking turned to a shatter.
She barely has time to register the glass that sprays inside the house from the windows, barely has time to wonder what she’s done before her eyes are rolling into the back of her head and her body is falling to the ground, head hitting the edge of an accent table with a loud thwack that would have had her wincing if she had enough energy to care.
…
It turns out caring comes when she opens her eyes again, the light above too bright and her head feeling like it’s been hit with a beaters bat one too many times.
But she doesn’t have to guess where she is, white pristine room and the noises of Healers walking by and patients down the hall, is enough. It just takes her a second too long to remember why she is here – Dumbledore and their talk about...Octans and something else.
Something that seems a touch too important to forget and for some reason makes her want to run to her brother and ask.
“Ah, good to see you finally awake.” Her stomach turns as Dumbledore walks into the room, a small smile on his face like he hadn’t push her to be here. Like he wasn’t the reason she was laid in St Mungos with an irritating itch in her cloudy brain. “How do you feel?”
“My head hurts.”
“When you fainted, you hit your head, I suspect it will leave a small scar.” He speaks as though it is normal, as though the small, but slightly nerve joltingly painful, cut on her forehead is what she is referring to.
No, it hurts because of something put there. Something forced into her head that’s making her feel as though she’s lost a part of herself.
“What did you do to me?” The words flew out of her mouth before she can stop them and his smile drops, eyes peering over at her as his half moon spectacles fall further down his crooked nose.
“Personally I did nothing, the Healers however -”
“You don’t get to get out of this on a technicality.”
Dumbledore moved, his eyes sharp as he reached for the pitcher of water and a see through half filled cup, waving his wand and having them float there, the liquid sloshing around. “When witches or wizards are born, their magic exists in a small amount, growing with them but never strong enough – often only used in accidental and emotional kinds -”
“I know this -”
“By the time they reach the age of hormones, puberty and adolescence, they have a good level – enough to wield but no control, thus we send them to school, and watch their magic grow under rules and tutelage.” She can’t help but frown “There are some people though who are born with more magic, more power, that grows and fills the cup.” He waved his wand again, the cup slowly filling.
“You are a powerful witch by your own right – but you also hold the memories of another witch, one whose magic was already fill to the brim, who had experienced trauma and control.” Hermione blinked, she knew this but trying to find those memories was like hitting her head on a brick wall. “When she was sent back, and became a part of you – those memories were tinged in magic...and thus the barriers began to crack.” The cup cracked loudly, drops leaking between the broken seams.
“You make it sound as though it happened often, Sir, a few times and -”
“A few times when you were at your most emotional that it made you temperamental and explosive.” Hermione bites her tongue to stop from speaking. “And rightly so...you have seen and experienced more things than anyone your age should have.” It’s added softly and it makes her want to lash out at the man.
“What did you do?” Hermione hissed, moving forward to try and sit up in her bed only to feel a wave of nausea hit her.
“And it should have been suggested earlier before this happened.”
“What did you do?” She asked again as he avoided her question, standing tall and imposing in her seemingly private room, blue eyes raking over her face like he was questioning whether he should tell her or not or leave her as she was.
“Think of it as a wall, something to separate Granger and Potter for the time being… not permanent I assure you, that would be rather cruel -”
“Yet your cruelty is not a surprise to me.” If voice could make hell freeze over then her own would have. She’s never known herself to be so hating and loathful towards a person, but yet she can’t stop herself from sending that his way.
He had no right to go into her head, to take...those memories from her. And now she’s left with some magical wall in her head and the ability to do nothing to get it back. Forced to comply as he wished for her.
“Miss Potter…it was done for you own good.” It seemed only he could believe what he said and even then his eyes flashed with uncertainty. He had made a choice for her, and one they wouldn’t know would work or not.
“I’ll play by your rules, I’ll let you keep my memories blocked and I won’t fight you about what I...what I was sent here to do but just know one thing, Professor...if we loose this war, if you have thrown the one chance you have, and everything I have done is worthless – then it will be you I come after.” Hermione hissed coldly as he blinked at her, seeming shocked.
“Miss -”
For a second she wants to let him in, show him everything she could do to take him down – everything she will do if this goes wrong. And it’s vicious and cruel, but she doesn’t care – she may not remember much but she knows people will be at stake.
Whether he takes the chance or not she doesn’t know, but she doubts that he felt like looking into the mind of a sixteen year old girl with a head full of anger and a stomach full of hatred. She doesn’t ask if it’s because he’s scared of what he’ll see or if he finds himself unbothered, but she keeps her eyes locked with his.
“You better go, Professor...I imagine the Healers instructions were to rest...it’s hard to do that when you are here.” Her words are still cold as she blinks, looking away as he nods his head.
“I shall see you at the start of term, my dear.”
It’s only when he’s gone that she lets the reality of the situation sink in. Tears springing to her eyes at the hollow feeling in her head and partly in her heart, like something but more importantly someone is missing.
And she hates herself for having pushed him so hard that he did this to her.