Love is hope: Life after sixth year

***

Four tension-filled days had passed since Harry’s birthday. Hermione had made a mental note to ensure that all future birthdays would be happy ones for Harry, even if she had to die trying. But especially after the two last ones he deserved a lifetime of splendid parties filled with carefree fun…

For the moment everything was still quite. The Prophet hadn’t printed a word about what had happened at Privet Drive, nor at her home, though they wouldn’t be too concerned about the death of a Squib and a little wizard named Diggle. As for the Auror, well, that was just the hazard of his job… Yesterday had been the burial of Mrs. Figg, and Harry had been permitted to go with the rest of the Order Members who had know the woman. The others had to stay at Headquarters.

The Weasleys were still at loss. They had developed a bit of a system so every one of them had been at Mrs. Weasleys bedside, taking turns. Nobody could tell for sure if there was any hope for her to ever wake up… Ron was visibly the most affected. Not his short-tempered self, he let most things slide, it was as if he’d become indifferent. Ginny was trying to care for her brother, but the dark circles under her eyes were telltale signs of the toll it took on her.

Harry had been meeting with Dumbledore once, but wasn’t telling what had been said, and even Amélie had been called to speak briefly with the old Professor. From her Hermione had gotten a full rapport on what had been said. Dumbledore had cautioned her about the exponential growth of her ability to absorb memories and knowledge from the wizards and witches around her. As proven by what happened when she tried to take Ron’s guilt and pain away: it could harm her.

Though he wasn’t really sure of the cause of her ability or even the nature of it…Since she received the strongest pulses by touch, Hermione and Amélie had been creative in finding a temporary solution. Basing their theory on a farfetched Muggle story, they tried making fine gloves, like Rogue’s from X-men. That way Amélie wouldn’t have to worry about direct skin to skin contact. It seemed to help a little bit, but she could still pick up things by just standing close to someone, or when emotions ran high…

Hermione’s parents were recovering slowly. Madam Gillian had taken the time to explain to Hermione about the complications of using wizarding medicine on Muggles. On short term, it worked like a charm. But healing spells generally worked on basis of the inner magic of the patient helping along. Kind of like the Muggle medicine helping along the inherited human immune system. All this meant that, in the long run, the wounds of her parents couldn’t be speed-healed with magic. They had to wait for the body to cope with the traumata.

Her mother was already doing fine, barely feeling any pain anymore if she didn’t make too sudden movements with her arm. Her father was still in a pretty bad shape, but he would pull through. He was awake now and then, and it still hurt him a great deal to have his bandages cleaned. But with enough rest and care he would be as good as new in a few months.

Hermione couldn’t tell what was happening with Malfoy Jr. since most didn’t even care about the wizard, and even if they did, Snape wouldn’t let them near the recovering youth. As far as Hermione could tell, he was in pretty bad shape…

The talk with Ginny had been the farthest of Hermione’s mind. Luna had been a silent little rock, taking care of mostly her Ronald, even though he stayed indifferent to her subtle support. It was strange, it wasn’t like there was much to do other then talk to each other, but even that didn’t occur often. Actually, these last four days had been like everyone had backed in his or her corner, licking their wounds.

Hermione wasn’t one to let them all get away with the depression much longer, but she hadn’t had the energy between caring for her parents, and digesting all the happenings herself…

As for the werewolf and the clumsy Auror, she didn’t know what had happened between them, but it must’ve been bad… Tonks had been in a gloomy mood the last time Hermione had seen her, now three days ago, and Remus was putting up a front of being the gentle helpful wizard, hiding all depressed feelings.

Mostly these past days had been about settling into a certain routine of coping and taking care of the injured.

This morning, though, word came that Dumbledore would come down from the Ministry mess to the Grimmauld Place. An Order meeting would take place that night, and Hermione couldn’t help but think that this time would be so different without Mrs. Weasley shooing them about, making sure they couldn’t hear what was said…

The thought actually filled her with sorrow, and she fled to her parents’ room, just to ease her mind on how things were there… Entering the room, she saw her father was awake, and it seemed like she interrupted a serious conversation…

It was kind of strange, really… In the Muggle world, you have clearly defined settings for the sick people, and the healthy ones. For example, it would be strange to walk in on your parents in the same bed all the time, forcing to make yourself remember that it’s a sickbed… It was just weird, in some ways… And it felt better now that her mother was more frequently up and about, taking care of her father, or writing in the diary Madam Gillian got her.

Hermione apologised for interrupting, but entered the room setting herself on the bed, facing her parents.

“So, are you alright? You look so serious…” Frowning, she thought of something: “Everything’s fine, isn’t it? Your wound healing fine?” Talking herself into worry, she continued, “You feel sick? Maybe there’s complications with the magical healing? Is it possible you could have an allergic reaction? I should look it up in the…”

“Hermione…”

The soft and breathy voice of her father was but a shadow of his usual confident low tone, but powerful enough to make Hermione stop nonetheless. Her mother took over:

“We’ve been talking, pumpkin… About what we’re supposed to do?” Hushing Hermione with a raised hand, she continued: “I know you probably have your own opinion young lady, and probably Professor Dumbledore has one too, but we are grown-ups perfectly capable of making our own decisions. We may be Muggles, but please don’t forget that!”

Nodding, feeling slightly ashamed, Hermione didn’t take offence at her mother’s stern tone. She indicated she would be silent for them to say their piece, and her mum resumed her speech:

“The way we see it, there’re two possibilities. With a little mumbo jumbo from the Order members, and the magical law-enforcement, we could easily be transferred to a Muggle Hospital for recovery…”

A quick glare from her mother told Hermione she better just let out the breath she’d taken, and not interject what she was going to.

“It wouldn’t be that hard to find some story to make it all seem sensible… We’d be back where we belonged and out of the way. Then there’s another possibility in our books, though we’re not sure it will be approved by these magical persons. But we could stay here. I know we’re just helpless Muggles, injured and overall useless to their eyes. But we feel like we should do more then just hide and try to stay alive…”

Hermione’s mother took a deep breath redirecting her gaze to her husband. She could see the two of them loved each other.

“We know they don’t really see it that way, but in all honesty, this war you have going on concerns us directly. Not only because we’re the parents of the great Hermione Granger,” here her parents glanced at her with sadly amused smiles, before turning their gazes to each other again, “But because we’re Muggles. And correct me if I’m wrong, but if this Voldemort-person doesn’t get beaten, the Muggle world’s in danger also?”

Her mother bit her lip, stopping for a moment. With a raspy voice her father took over: “You see, Hermione, we may be just dentists, but we won’t sit by and let things happen. And though I have no clue whether or not we could mean something in the organisation, there must be something we could do to help!”

Coughing, her father couldn’t continue. The two women in his life fussed over him telling him to take it easy, but he brushed them off. After sipping a bit of water, he said:

“Look, if we get sent back to where we supposedly belong, we would have to get guarded again, won’t we? And this time we could get someone killed trying to protect us, if it hasn’t already happened!”

With a jolt Hermione couldn’t remember if there had been a guard taken out by Dolohov that night. She felt horrible: just the possibility that someone could’ve died trying to protect her, and that she didn’t even care enough to think about the possibility! What if it had been someone she knew! Before she could get further on that train of thought, her father’s reasoning jerked her back to the then-and-there.

“Here we’re already nice and protected without extra need of guards, as long as they feed us, we’ll live. As for the practise… We’ll have to set some affairs in order, but I’ don’t foresee great problems… We can transfer our patients to some friends, and I’m sure we’ll manage to build up our clientele again after all of this is over? Or at least until we’re healthy again, and not in need of a lot of security?”

“Your dad’s right, Hermione. Besides, this may be a war in the ranks of the Magical community, but it affects the Muggle world, too. And if I understand correctly its outcome could have the most disastrous effect on our world…”

Hermione hadn’t even thought of that before, but they were right, as usual… If Voldemort would get much more stronger, the Muggles were in grave peril. Was it just to leave them out of it? but it was so dangerous, they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves at all!

As if seeing her conflicted thoughts, her dad frowned:

“You know, it’s not really as if we’re asking you for permission. We just wanted to tell you first what we will be asking Dumbledore. It’s not as if we’re totally defenceless. I read in some of those books that dragonhide clothing would protect you against most spells, if you’re really that concerned, we can get some of those wizards get us that. Hell, we can even get them to buy us guns! But don’t tell us we’re useless, damnit! I even served my year in the army, and your mother and I did three years all over the world with MSF before you were born. We may not have seen what you have in your magical world, but we’ve seen enough misery to last a lifetime!”

Hermione’s dad worked himself in  coughing fit, again, and while her mother was soothing him, Hermione was busy feeling ashamed for betraying her parents’ strength. They were all surprised though, when they heard a subtle cough from the doorway.

Hermione turned to see Dumbledore twinkling away at the doorway: “If I may?”

The two female Grangers stood quickly and Hermione’s mother was quick to invite the old wizard in.

“Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to get Miss Serkent?”

With a quick look towards her parents, she left the room, in search for Amélie. The last thing she heard before closing the door, was Dumbledore offering her parents a Sherbert Lemon.

After browsing a few rooms she found Luna, Ginny and Amélie in the drawing room.

“Hey, where’re the boys?”

Luna looked up: “They’re in the basement. Ronald had been sitting at Mrs. Weasley’s bed all through this night. Harry dragged him away…”

Ginny shrugged: “I suppose he needs this more. It’s not like all the sisterly attention I provide is helping matters…”

Amélie was quicker to interject: “Ginny! You know that isn’t true! You help him loads! And it’s not like you don’t need the time to focus a bit on yourself too!”

“Whatever,” Ginny mumbled, turning her head away. She stood up suddenly, and nearly throttled Hermione on her way out of the room. Hermione could see the tears forming, and she would’ve gladly followed.

However Amélie getting up also to run after the young witch reminded her of Dumbledore’s request. Stopping Amélie with a hand on her arm, she explained:

“Dumbledore wants to see you. He asked me to get you…”

Before Amélie could respond, Luna had gotten up, and reassured the other two, that she would be checking on Ginny. So there was nothing left to do, but for Hermione to accompany Amélie.

The little trek along the stairs of Grimmauls Place went on in silence. Both girls were lost in thought, and barely paid attention when they saw Snape enter one of the rooms. The room where Malfoy Junior was supposed to recover in. Come to think of it, Hermione wasn’t even sure if Malfoy was still there, it was more of an assumption.

At last they were in front of the door. With a suspicious feeling Hermione knocked before opening the door.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Serkent. I wish to have a word with you in private if that’s alright with you? Dr. and Dr. Granger,” Dumbledore bowed his head to them, “It was a pleasure talking to you…”

With that the Professor strode calmly towards the door. Amélie’s gaze was pensive, and not just a little bit worried, but she nodded and proceeded the old wizard to the corridor. Hermione was left standing there in her parents’ bedroom. She turned to her mother with an inquisitive stare.

“Hermione, honey, you should sit down for a moment…”

Worried Hermione did as she was told by her mother. Knowing from experience now that when her parents wore the sad-worried face, without her knowing exactly what the cause was, it was better to stay silent until she knew all the facts. Then, afterwards, there would always be time to argue…

Her father cleared his throat and started, a bit sarcastically: “Well, I guess the bad news is, you’re stuck with us at least until the end of your vacation…”

Hermione frowned… This was good news wasn’t it?

“So Dumbeldore’s letting you stay? That’s brilliant! Why would that be bad news?”

“It isn’t bad news, per se, Hermione,” her mother hastened herself to explain, “It’s just he knew we would get bored doing nothing hanging around all day, and he asked us to do a task for him…”

Now Hermione really was confused: wasn’t this what they wanted? Why the glum faces then?

“It’s more complicated then that, Hermione,” her father said in a tired voice, “We don’t know the whole story yet, but Amélie is in danger…”

Seeing Hermione’s stricken expression her mother explained as clearly as possible: “Her so-called gift… It isn’t an innate characteristic… It’s more of a… symptom… if you will…”

“Yes, Mr. Dumbledore didn’t go in any detail, but he’s pretty sure Amélie was born a witch…”

Hermione frowned. She hadn’t ever read about something like that before? Squibs, yes, that must be it! Her parents had the terms confused.

“You mean she’s a squib?”

Hermione’s brain went to work. Did that mean Amélie’s mother was a witch? But that couldn’t be it, could it? Or was it the man who’d raped her that had been a wizard?

Her train of thought was interrupted by the soft, but firm “No” that came from her father.

Her mother shook her head and repeated: “No, honey, it’s much more… complicated then that. Dumbledore believes in a way she is a witch, but has some kind of binding spell on her powers…”

Binding spell for someone’s powers? But that meant… Dark Arts… Binding one’s magical power was supposed to be Dark Magic. Amélie, the house had identified her as a witch, and Harry felt Dark Magic coming from her… But, that didn’t make any sense! Even if the binding of power was highly considered a Dark Art, Hermione had read enough to know that one curse couldn’t have hold all of a witch’s powers during sixteen years!

And who would do that to Amélie, anyway?

“But…”

She was interrupted by her father again: “It’s bad magic, I know, but they don’t know which spell it could’ve been. Or even if it’s just one spell, or if it’s supposed to be cast anew every once in a while… I don’t even want to think about that, because that could mean a relative of mine was involved! All that’s known for now, is that being in a magical place has somehow disrupted the spell, or maybe it was just Amélie’s age, again, they don’t know. But what is known is that Amélie could be in grave danger if there isn’t any more information found out…”

Her mother continued while her father was shaking his head almost in defeat: “You see, the problem is, they don’t really know that much about it. And apparently it’s a dangerous thing to be reading up on dark spells… Something to do with easy corruption… And though the Order could make it a priority, they have more urgent need for their people’s skills, you know, the ones that can read Dark Arts texts… And since we are Muggles, we do not have any power to get corrupted…”

“Dumbledore asked you to research Dark Arts spellbooks!?”

Hermione didn’t know to be shocked, appalled, confused or even envious… This was majorly overlooking all kinds of the law, for one! Muggles weren’t supposed to be reading any spellbooks, let alone dark ones! Letting them stay in this house illegally was one thing, but this? What did Dumbledore think he was doing?

Granted, she was more then just relieved her parents would be allowed to stay at Grimmauld Place, but she was a bit anxious about them getting immersed in readings on the Dark Arts… Nobody could tell with absolute certainty that Muggles would not get affected by that? Didn’t these books have spells on them? Deadly ones?

Aside from the worry, Hermione felt a little envious, too. She had been researching all topics related to magic she could think of since first year of Hogwarts, and here her parents were getting to read the good stuff. Ok, that didn’t sound good, but it was just the exciting information, more knowledge…

And that was exactly the train of thought that was dangerous! Hermione knew just reading Dark spells sounded innocent enough, but it was but a small step to memorising them, and ultimately using them.

What seemed innocent little choices could grow out to be more… Especially for ones who revelled in gaining knowledge, the lure was recorded to be the greatest. When Hermione had come across that little bit of information, she remembered reading up about cults and how they attracted intelligent idealistic people most easily… And Hermione was no fool, she knew that there would be temptations were she ever to get around reading some of the Dark Arts…

Shaking her head, she tried to get back to the present matter.

“So, is that what Amélie is hearing from Dumbledore right now?” was the only thing Hermione’s brain could come up with at the moment.

“Well, yes,” her mother paused, “Maybe you should go check on her, she could get quite shaken up hearing that she actually is a witch, and has been cursed since birth…”

Hermione nodded absentmindedly, but remembered to ask: “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yes, Hermione, we’ll be fine. We’ll just discus this offer of your magical people over, and…”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Hermione’s mother interjected, “You’re going to take a nap! You’re still healing, and you haven’t been taking it easy today! Now Hermione’s on her way to Amélie right now, so you don’t have to worry about deciding just yet…”

While the mother was busy scolding her father, she waved her hand at her daughter, signalling that she could leave the room. Leaving her father’s protestations, Hermione found herself back in the hallway.

Having no idea where Dumbledore would’ve taken Amélie, Hermione started climbing the stairs to the girls’ dormitory.

On her way there, the calm was broken by the slamming of a door. Jumping a little in fright, Hermione looked up at the giant bat who was descending the stairs in what looked like a right fit of fury. She had seen Snape out of control once, a little more than three years ago, but this didn’t seem like ‘just’ anger. It seemed like he was in pain, and angry for being just that…

What was going on here?

Curious, Hermione went up to where Snape came from. Through an open door, she saw Dumbledore sitting in front of a fire, staring at it, seemingly deep in thought. Amélie was there, too, and when she noticed Hermione’s worried face, the girl who’d just found out she was supposed to be a witch tilted her head a little to the side.

Hermione couldn’t’ for the life of her read the expression Amélie wore, was it anger, surprise? Hell, was it good or bad? After a few excruciating seconds, Amélie said:

“The greasy git’s my dad…”

***

Please review? Pretty please?

Oh, and don’t hate me for the delay… or for the cliff-hanger… or for the scandalous lack of Harry-Hermione interaction in this chap…

I’ll try to remedy at least two of these three problems in the next chapter…