Love
Chapter 1 [Heavy Snow]
There was a heavy snowfall that year. The snow piled up and piled up until it reached the second story windows of the Burrow. Charlie, Bill, Percy, Fred and George weren't coming home for Christmas, they were either too far away, had families of their own, or were busy with work. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had decided to go to Barbados, and invited Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Ron, but those four had opted for a cozy Christmas in the Burrow together.
"Are you sure you don't want to come? You really need to get out Hermione. You haven't left the house since you got here," Harry begged.
"Yes Hermione, really! You really should come, it'll be loads of fun!" Ginny supplicated. Ron put on his puppy face to show his support.
"Guys, I just don't feel like it, ok? I'm just… tired. Please, leave me alone!" Hermione said a little harshly, putting her head in her hands and staring at the table. They were all sitting around the kitchen table in the Burrow, and Harry, Ron and Ginny were planning to go out dancing.
"But…" said Ginny.
"NO! I'm not going!" Hermione snapped, and the other three sighed.
"Bye," They said in turn, walking out the door. Hermione didn't reply. She watched them from the window until they had gone, and then she had a shot of strong rum. And another. And another.
"God, it's three o'clock! We stayed out late! I hope Hermione didn't wait up! Poor thing!" Ginny said cheerily and groggily as they made their way up to the red Burrow door through the snow.
"What's that sound?" Ron asked, and they all stopped and listened. A faint humming could be heard in the distance. Ginny scrambled up onto a snowbank and looked in the direction it was coming from.
"Oh Jesus Christ…" She whispered, paling as she pointed weakly toward something. Harry and Ron climbed up and looked out. They immediately began running, with Ginny flailing along behind them uselessly, sobbing hysterically and crying, "Hermione! Hermione!" Again and again.
Hermione lay in a snow bank, having stripped off her shirt and wearing only her bra and jeans, making snow angels, shaking, humming softly to herself. She looked like a little blue angel, blue skin, blue lips, blue bra, blue jeans. Pale and fragile, insane. Ginny flung herself down next to her, still sobbing and trying to pull her out of the snow bank, saying "Hermione! Hermione!" hysterically. Harry and Ron helped her and soon they had Hermione standing between them, and got her inside.
They sat her down, she simply stared at the wall, humming. Ron wrapped a blanket around her and they forced some soup through her purple lips. She was shaking badly. Her feet were bare and Harry rubbed them while Ron rubbed her arms. Ginny stood to the side, hyperventilating slightly in the last hiccuping stage of her crying. She hugged Hermione over and over until finally Hermione attempted to push her away with weak arms.
"Nothing wrong," she said, smiling wanly. Ginny burst into a new bout of crying, still hugging her friend.
"Why did you do that?!" Ron demanded, getting slightly angry once his fear had slightly faded. Hermione was back to staring at the wall and Ron shook her slightly. "Why did you DO THAT?!" He demanded again, his eyes brimming with tears.
"Was hot. Too hot in here," Hermione said, her head tilting as she started to lose consciousness.
Harry caught her before she fell off the chair, righting her and putting his hand under her chin, forcing her to look up. Her three best friends, looking distraught, filled Hermione's vision and she swallowed, then blinked a few times, staring at them staring back. And then she burst out crying. Loud, wrenching sobs that shook her freezing body. The hot tears felt alien on her cool cheeks and she wiped at them furiously as she banged the table in frustration, wailing. She barely noticed when Ginny wrapped her arms around her and supported her as they walked into her bedroom, then sat down on the bed.
The door closed behind them.
Harry and Ron stood outside the door. They could hear Ginny whispering words of encouragement and soothing Hermione, who was absolutely hysterical. Apparently Ginny was trying to get her into pajamas. Eventually they heard Ginny whisper,
"Now tell me, love, what's wrong?" There was a long silence. The only thing heard was Hermione's irregular breathing. Harry and Ron unconsciously leaned closer to the door to catch Hermione's weak statement, one tiny word that was ripping her apart.
"Draco…" She said reverently, and it sounded like desperation and hate and love all wrapped up into one, but mostly like a plea… then she broke into her sobbing again.
Harry and Ron looked at each other. They had never seen Hermione this miserable. She had never been this miserable.
It was 8 o'clock when Ginny came out of the bedroom, looking pale and haggard. Ron and Harry looked up from their coffee, neither had slept last night.
"She stopped crying, but she won't sleep," Ginny informed them, getting a coffee and sitting down.
"What happened? She was fine…" Harry said.
"We thought she was fine. Maybe a bit irritable, but fine. I guess, inside she wasn't. I guess she's still not over him," Ron said.
"People don't 'get over' their soulmates, Ron," Ginny said, staring into her coffee.
"That bastard isn't Hermione's soulmate, goddamnit!" Ron said irritably.
"It's no use pretending he isn't just because you don't like him, Ron. You were fine before they broke up. He's her soulmate, simple as that. Her 'other half', her 'completion', her 'significant other'," Ginny said dryly.
"You watch too many soap operas." Ron said, standing abruptly. "I'm going in to see her,." He added, disappearing into the room. Harry followed him with a grim smile for Ginny.
"Hermione," Ron said, sitting down in the chair that had been pulled up next to the bed. The blankets had been pulled up over her head to keep out the sunlight. Harry closed the door behind himself, then sat down next to Ron.
"What?" Came a mumbled reply. Ron pulled the blankets away from her face and Hermione groaned. The pajama attempt had been unsuccessful, she still wore the blue bra and jeans, her hair was frizzing up around her, she was pale as a ghost and her cheeks showed signs of recent tears. This girl has the tear ducts of never-ending bounty.
"Why do you even care about Draco?" He asked sternly.
"This isn't about Draco, silly," Hermione whispered, laughing slightly at how feeble an attempt it was at fooling Harry and Ron.
"Yes, it is," Ron said, as though he was talking to a small child.
"I'm just…going through the normal stages of a break-up, Ron."
"No, you're not."
"I love him."
"He's not worthy of your love. You put your trust in him and he betrayed it."
"You don't even know what he did! How can you judge?" Hermione demanded, becoming angry.
"He's an asshole! He doesn't deserve the Dementor's Kiss if he does anything to hurt you, and obviously he has!" Ron yelled, and Ginny poked her head through the door, glancing around worriedly.
"It wasn't even fucking him anyway, Ron! It was me! It was all my fucking fault! Not his!"
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Yes, I fucking well do! What else will you believe?"
"I-"
"I love him, so just go away and leave me alone!" Hermione yelled, lying back down and pulling the blankets over her head. Ron ripped them off.
"For God's sake, just tell me why?! I can't come to terms with this until you at least…" Hermione stood up on the bed, bringing herself to eye level with Ron.
"Because I do! I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM! He's perfect! He's excruciatingly perfect, ok? Does that make you happy? That's why I… love him…" Hermione's voice dwindled as she began to cry again.
Ron sighed. "Oh Hermione," He said simply, as he hugged her tightly and she collapsed into his arms. "What are we going to do with you?" He asked, squeezing her as her lowered her into the bed and climbed in with her, cuddling her to him like a big teddy bear. "God only knows. Or maybe Draco." He added, only Harry and Ginny hearing. Draco Malfoy… was he the only thing that would fix their Hermione?
Draco rubbed his gloved hands together and stomped his feet, trying to warm up.
"Mum, what is the point of all this?"
Narcissa spared him a sharp glance.
"I have to bring a gift to Molly."
"You do not!" You hate the Weasleys!"
"Your Father hates the Weasleys. I'm just not… fond of them."
"That's an understatement! Is this some kind of punishment?"
"Maybe it is! I don't know what you did to that sweet girl, but it must have been something bad to make her break it off with you!"
Draco gaped at his Mother. "I can't believe you! Why does everyone assume I did something wrong? I DIDN'T! I didn't do a single thing! She hasn't said one word to me since that night she told me to never touch her again! For no apparent reason! Don't you dare tell me that I've done something wrong when I haven't!" He burst out angrily, the months of frustration finally being released.
He had tried- Oh God he had tried- to talk to Hermione, to get her to explain, to get her to see reason… but she had turned away so many times… she didn't even look at him anymore. The Professors had told him to be patient, that people have suffered from mental abuse or trauma often had such problems, that she'd come around eventually… but she hadn't. Even they were losing hope. He remembered their faces the last time he had tried to talk to her at the staff table… she had stiffly, hands folded in her lap, staring straight ahead, stony faced. They had looked on, dumbstruck, shocked, saddened.
The ones who had sustained torture… McGonagall and Flitwick, seemed chipper, seemed healthy. But the one who had returned home unscathed except for a slightly twisted ankle, looked sick. Hermione was slowly wasting away, getting thinner and thinner, paler and paler. The circles under her eyes steadily grew, her appearance was untidy, her robes hung off her body in a most unnatural way… she had once been petite, with nice healthy curves… now she was thin, emaciated almost, with an angular body. Her demeanor was cold, achingly cordial, dazed, uncaring. The entire school - what was left of it - had noted these changes, and was beginning to worry.
At first the Professors had dismissed it. "It's just her guilt over Draco, she'll be fine once she takes him back…" "It's just her missing Draco" "She must have had some bad experiences". Eventually they had decided to question her.
Draco had been there as well, as the one who prodded them into it.
"Hermione… while you were at Abhinatha Manor, were you in any way abused?" Dumbledore had asked gently, the soft light from fireplace casting an unwilling spotlight on Hermione, who was curled up on a wingback chair, glaring resentfully at them all like they were trying to do her harm.
"No," She said, somehow managing to make that word incomparably venomous.
"Any kind of abuse? Not just physical, but mental, emotional or sexual?" Dumbledore said, slightly stressing sexual. Why else would she turn Draco away? He felt the boy tense next to him as the occupants of the room waited for her to answer. She looked up in shock, and for a second her face looked like a skeleton… bony in the dark light and dead. She had stared at Draco intensely for a moment, before her eyes narrowed hatefully.
"No," She had said slowly, as though it was meant solely for her ex fiancé. She stood, looking pointedly at Albus.
"I'm leaving now, thanks," She said, nodding at each of them before she quietly disappeared out the door. Albus spared a glance at Draco, who looked shaken, and patted him on the shoulder. The boy looked up at him like he'd never seen him before, and was wondering if he were God. Albus smiled gently.
They discussed using Veritaserum, but decided they had no legit reason. She lost a bit of weight, Minister, and she isn't nearly so perky as she was before! And so they let it slip, and let is slip, and let it slip. Or so Draco thought. But Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore, in their nightly meeting, discussed her at length over their steaming cups of tea.
"It's a spell," Snape had said with conviction one night. The other two gave him questioning looks. "Nothing else could produce such a change in just a month."
"Maybe it was just the last straw. She's been through a lot you know. A little bit of abuse…" McGonagall trailed off.
"She said she didn't suffer any abuse."
"She could be lying. She could feel guilty, or she might not even realise the abuse was so subtle."
"Her back is broken." Snape said quietly, staring into the distance. There was a moment of unbroken silence, before Dumbledore sighed.
"I think it is a well-crafted mixture of both. Our opponent… he is formidable. A spell yes, but a clever one. He has combined it with heavy psychological abuse as well, maybe mild sexual abuse." Little did Albus know how dead-on he was. The other two looked at him, waiting for more, but he did not elaborate.
"How do you know this?"
"I don't. I merely speculate," He said.
"We should run a Dark Magic test on her," Snape said matter-of-factly. They agreed on this, and went to bed, determined to do the test the next day.
But they had forgotten one thing. Early the next morning, the students- and interns- had gone home for Christmas holidays. And so, the mystery of Hermione Granger was temporarily unsolved.
Which was particularly why Draco did not want to talk about her with his Mother- or anybody for that matter. He wondered briefly whether Weasel or Weaselette would interrogate him or not… most likely, before one- or all six- of the brothers beat the crap out of him. He sighed and followed his Mother up the freshly-shoveled path to the Burrow, wondering what awaited him inside.
Little did he know, it was exactly the person he dreaded making contact with.
TBC
Chapter 1 [Heavy Snow]
There was a heavy snowfall that year. The snow piled up and piled up until it reached the second story windows of the Burrow. Charlie, Bill, Percy, Fred and George weren't coming home for Christmas, they were either too far away, had families of their own, or were busy with work. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had decided to go to Barbados, and invited Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Ron, but those four had opted for a cozy Christmas in the Burrow together.
"Are you sure you don't want to come? You really need to get out Hermione. You haven't left the house since you got here," Harry begged.
"Yes Hermione, really! You really should come, it'll be loads of fun!" Ginny supplicated. Ron put on his puppy face to show his support.
"Guys, I just don't feel like it, ok? I'm just… tired. Please, leave me alone!" Hermione said a little harshly, putting her head in her hands and staring at the table. They were all sitting around the kitchen table in the Burrow, and Harry, Ron and Ginny were planning to go out dancing.
"But…" said Ginny.
"NO! I'm not going!" Hermione snapped, and the other three sighed.
"Bye," They said in turn, walking out the door. Hermione didn't reply. She watched them from the window until they had gone, and then she had a shot of strong rum. And another. And another.
"God, it's three o'clock! We stayed out late! I hope Hermione didn't wait up! Poor thing!" Ginny said cheerily and groggily as they made their way up to the red Burrow door through the snow.
"What's that sound?" Ron asked, and they all stopped and listened. A faint humming could be heard in the distance. Ginny scrambled up onto a snowbank and looked in the direction it was coming from.
"Oh Jesus Christ…" She whispered, paling as she pointed weakly toward something. Harry and Ron climbed up and looked out. They immediately began running, with Ginny flailing along behind them uselessly, sobbing hysterically and crying, "Hermione! Hermione!" Again and again.
Hermione lay in a snow bank, having stripped off her shirt and wearing only her bra and jeans, making snow angels, shaking, humming softly to herself. She looked like a little blue angel, blue skin, blue lips, blue bra, blue jeans. Pale and fragile, insane. Ginny flung herself down next to her, still sobbing and trying to pull her out of the snow bank, saying "Hermione! Hermione!" hysterically. Harry and Ron helped her and soon they had Hermione standing between them, and got her inside.
They sat her down, she simply stared at the wall, humming. Ron wrapped a blanket around her and they forced some soup through her purple lips. She was shaking badly. Her feet were bare and Harry rubbed them while Ron rubbed her arms. Ginny stood to the side, hyperventilating slightly in the last hiccuping stage of her crying. She hugged Hermione over and over until finally Hermione attempted to push her away with weak arms.
"Nothing wrong," she said, smiling wanly. Ginny burst into a new bout of crying, still hugging her friend.
"Why did you do that?!" Ron demanded, getting slightly angry once his fear had slightly faded. Hermione was back to staring at the wall and Ron shook her slightly. "Why did you DO THAT?!" He demanded again, his eyes brimming with tears.
"Was hot. Too hot in here," Hermione said, her head tilting as she started to lose consciousness.
Harry caught her before she fell off the chair, righting her and putting his hand under her chin, forcing her to look up. Her three best friends, looking distraught, filled Hermione's vision and she swallowed, then blinked a few times, staring at them staring back. And then she burst out crying. Loud, wrenching sobs that shook her freezing body. The hot tears felt alien on her cool cheeks and she wiped at them furiously as she banged the table in frustration, wailing. She barely noticed when Ginny wrapped her arms around her and supported her as they walked into her bedroom, then sat down on the bed.
The door closed behind them.
Harry and Ron stood outside the door. They could hear Ginny whispering words of encouragement and soothing Hermione, who was absolutely hysterical. Apparently Ginny was trying to get her into pajamas. Eventually they heard Ginny whisper,
"Now tell me, love, what's wrong?" There was a long silence. The only thing heard was Hermione's irregular breathing. Harry and Ron unconsciously leaned closer to the door to catch Hermione's weak statement, one tiny word that was ripping her apart.
"Draco…" She said reverently, and it sounded like desperation and hate and love all wrapped up into one, but mostly like a plea… then she broke into her sobbing again.
Harry and Ron looked at each other. They had never seen Hermione this miserable. She had never been this miserable.
It was 8 o'clock when Ginny came out of the bedroom, looking pale and haggard. Ron and Harry looked up from their coffee, neither had slept last night.
"She stopped crying, but she won't sleep," Ginny informed them, getting a coffee and sitting down.
"What happened? She was fine…" Harry said.
"We thought she was fine. Maybe a bit irritable, but fine. I guess, inside she wasn't. I guess she's still not over him," Ron said.
"People don't 'get over' their soulmates, Ron," Ginny said, staring into her coffee.
"That bastard isn't Hermione's soulmate, goddamnit!" Ron said irritably.
"It's no use pretending he isn't just because you don't like him, Ron. You were fine before they broke up. He's her soulmate, simple as that. Her 'other half', her 'completion', her 'significant other'," Ginny said dryly.
"You watch too many soap operas." Ron said, standing abruptly. "I'm going in to see her,." He added, disappearing into the room. Harry followed him with a grim smile for Ginny.
"Hermione," Ron said, sitting down in the chair that had been pulled up next to the bed. The blankets had been pulled up over her head to keep out the sunlight. Harry closed the door behind himself, then sat down next to Ron.
"What?" Came a mumbled reply. Ron pulled the blankets away from her face and Hermione groaned. The pajama attempt had been unsuccessful, she still wore the blue bra and jeans, her hair was frizzing up around her, she was pale as a ghost and her cheeks showed signs of recent tears. This girl has the tear ducts of never-ending bounty.
"Why do you even care about Draco?" He asked sternly.
"This isn't about Draco, silly," Hermione whispered, laughing slightly at how feeble an attempt it was at fooling Harry and Ron.
"Yes, it is," Ron said, as though he was talking to a small child.
"I'm just…going through the normal stages of a break-up, Ron."
"No, you're not."
"I love him."
"He's not worthy of your love. You put your trust in him and he betrayed it."
"You don't even know what he did! How can you judge?" Hermione demanded, becoming angry.
"He's an asshole! He doesn't deserve the Dementor's Kiss if he does anything to hurt you, and obviously he has!" Ron yelled, and Ginny poked her head through the door, glancing around worriedly.
"It wasn't even fucking him anyway, Ron! It was me! It was all my fucking fault! Not his!"
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Yes, I fucking well do! What else will you believe?"
"I-"
"I love him, so just go away and leave me alone!" Hermione yelled, lying back down and pulling the blankets over her head. Ron ripped them off.
"For God's sake, just tell me why?! I can't come to terms with this until you at least…" Hermione stood up on the bed, bringing herself to eye level with Ron.
"Because I do! I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM! He's perfect! He's excruciatingly perfect, ok? Does that make you happy? That's why I… love him…" Hermione's voice dwindled as she began to cry again.
Ron sighed. "Oh Hermione," He said simply, as he hugged her tightly and she collapsed into his arms. "What are we going to do with you?" He asked, squeezing her as her lowered her into the bed and climbed in with her, cuddling her to him like a big teddy bear. "God only knows. Or maybe Draco." He added, only Harry and Ginny hearing. Draco Malfoy… was he the only thing that would fix their Hermione?
Draco rubbed his gloved hands together and stomped his feet, trying to warm up.
"Mum, what is the point of all this?"
Narcissa spared him a sharp glance.
"I have to bring a gift to Molly."
"You do not!" You hate the Weasleys!"
"Your Father hates the Weasleys. I'm just not… fond of them."
"That's an understatement! Is this some kind of punishment?"
"Maybe it is! I don't know what you did to that sweet girl, but it must have been something bad to make her break it off with you!"
Draco gaped at his Mother. "I can't believe you! Why does everyone assume I did something wrong? I DIDN'T! I didn't do a single thing! She hasn't said one word to me since that night she told me to never touch her again! For no apparent reason! Don't you dare tell me that I've done something wrong when I haven't!" He burst out angrily, the months of frustration finally being released.
He had tried- Oh God he had tried- to talk to Hermione, to get her to explain, to get her to see reason… but she had turned away so many times… she didn't even look at him anymore. The Professors had told him to be patient, that people have suffered from mental abuse or trauma often had such problems, that she'd come around eventually… but she hadn't. Even they were losing hope. He remembered their faces the last time he had tried to talk to her at the staff table… she had stiffly, hands folded in her lap, staring straight ahead, stony faced. They had looked on, dumbstruck, shocked, saddened.
The ones who had sustained torture… McGonagall and Flitwick, seemed chipper, seemed healthy. But the one who had returned home unscathed except for a slightly twisted ankle, looked sick. Hermione was slowly wasting away, getting thinner and thinner, paler and paler. The circles under her eyes steadily grew, her appearance was untidy, her robes hung off her body in a most unnatural way… she had once been petite, with nice healthy curves… now she was thin, emaciated almost, with an angular body. Her demeanor was cold, achingly cordial, dazed, uncaring. The entire school - what was left of it - had noted these changes, and was beginning to worry.
At first the Professors had dismissed it. "It's just her guilt over Draco, she'll be fine once she takes him back…" "It's just her missing Draco" "She must have had some bad experiences". Eventually they had decided to question her.
Draco had been there as well, as the one who prodded them into it.
"Hermione… while you were at Abhinatha Manor, were you in any way abused?" Dumbledore had asked gently, the soft light from fireplace casting an unwilling spotlight on Hermione, who was curled up on a wingback chair, glaring resentfully at them all like they were trying to do her harm.
"No," She said, somehow managing to make that word incomparably venomous.
"Any kind of abuse? Not just physical, but mental, emotional or sexual?" Dumbledore said, slightly stressing sexual. Why else would she turn Draco away? He felt the boy tense next to him as the occupants of the room waited for her to answer. She looked up in shock, and for a second her face looked like a skeleton… bony in the dark light and dead. She had stared at Draco intensely for a moment, before her eyes narrowed hatefully.
"No," She had said slowly, as though it was meant solely for her ex fiancé. She stood, looking pointedly at Albus.
"I'm leaving now, thanks," She said, nodding at each of them before she quietly disappeared out the door. Albus spared a glance at Draco, who looked shaken, and patted him on the shoulder. The boy looked up at him like he'd never seen him before, and was wondering if he were God. Albus smiled gently.
They discussed using Veritaserum, but decided they had no legit reason. She lost a bit of weight, Minister, and she isn't nearly so perky as she was before! And so they let it slip, and let is slip, and let it slip. Or so Draco thought. But Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore, in their nightly meeting, discussed her at length over their steaming cups of tea.
"It's a spell," Snape had said with conviction one night. The other two gave him questioning looks. "Nothing else could produce such a change in just a month."
"Maybe it was just the last straw. She's been through a lot you know. A little bit of abuse…" McGonagall trailed off.
"She said she didn't suffer any abuse."
"She could be lying. She could feel guilty, or she might not even realise the abuse was so subtle."
"Her back is broken." Snape said quietly, staring into the distance. There was a moment of unbroken silence, before Dumbledore sighed.
"I think it is a well-crafted mixture of both. Our opponent… he is formidable. A spell yes, but a clever one. He has combined it with heavy psychological abuse as well, maybe mild sexual abuse." Little did Albus know how dead-on he was. The other two looked at him, waiting for more, but he did not elaborate.
"How do you know this?"
"I don't. I merely speculate," He said.
"We should run a Dark Magic test on her," Snape said matter-of-factly. They agreed on this, and went to bed, determined to do the test the next day.
But they had forgotten one thing. Early the next morning, the students- and interns- had gone home for Christmas holidays. And so, the mystery of Hermione Granger was temporarily unsolved.
Which was particularly why Draco did not want to talk about her with his Mother- or anybody for that matter. He wondered briefly whether Weasel or Weaselette would interrogate him or not… most likely, before one- or all six- of the brothers beat the crap out of him. He sighed and followed his Mother up the freshly-shoveled path to the Burrow, wondering what awaited him inside.
Little did he know, it was exactly the person he dreaded making contact with.
TBC