Love is hope: Life after sixth year

***

The morning of Harry’s birthday Hermione had sent a gift with Dante, her family owl. She had been franticly looking for the perfect gift, not knowing what to get him. Of course she’d already bought him some Quidditch stuff she knew he would like, even if the pleasure of owning some worn gloves from one or the other Quidditch player escaped her comprehension. But she wanted at least to get him something extra, more ‘not-just-friendly’. But that was not her speciality. So even though she very much doubted he’d ever use it, she’d bought him a very simple, but elegant and spell-secured diary.

Surprisingly Hermione had managed to drag Amélie all over London the whole day to show her the historic sights and tell her their stories. It kept the fact that it was Harry’s birthday and the fact that she couldn’t be with him today out of her mind, mostly. She’d done some pleading, well just nice asking, to her Head of House to have permission to stroll around London. Consequently *Minerva* -in Muggle clothing- had been introduced to Amélie as an old friend of her parents and was tagging along for their protection in the big bad city.

Hermione had first felt a bit awkward about it; besides the fact that she had to call her professor by her first name, and act towards her as a friend, she didn’t know how McGonagall was going to like strutting through Muggle London with two teenagers. Hermione knew the old witch wasn’t one for wasting time on trivial things... But it had gone marvellously well.

They were now at a little restaurant eating lunch, and Hermione was talking a mile an hour, Amélie listening with rapt attention, and McGonagall trying to fit in with the Muggles. Hermione felt at ease, and was startled when McGonagall’s posture suddenly changed into a defensive one. Turning her head around she followed the older witch’s gaze and saw a balding man in shaggy clothes glaring at them from the other side of the room. She didn’t recognise the man, but that hardly comforted her.

The man got up slowly -Hermione saw that he was quite tall- and stalked out of the door, looking extremely put out. McGonagall relaxed slightly. Amélie was looking confused and not a bit scared, like she wanted to ask what was going on, but nothing on earth could make her utter that question out loud. Hermione wanted to ask whom the man had been, but didn’t dare ask in front of Amélie.

They were supposed to continue their little excursion until late the afternoon, but Minerva claimed to have too much pain in her hip due to old age to walk any further, and asked to go back to the Grangers with the car. Neither of the girls protested and as soon as they arrived back, McGonagall bade them goodbye. Shaking their hands, an electric static snapped when McGonagall’s hands touched Amélie’s.

Not paying it too much attention, McGonagall disappeared, and Hermione was left with Amélie. The girl was looking off in space, like pondering something. Hermione laid her hand on her shoulder, and Amélie’s gaze snapped back to Hermione’s when she jumped from the contact.

“Hey, are you daydreaming?” Hermione asked with a bit of a smile.

Amélie just blushed, and let herself be dragged to Hermione’s room. Hermione looked at her friend, and pondered on the situation. It wasn’t like Amélie minded the silence: usually they’d both find themselves a book to read, and just enjoy each other’s company. Now Hermione knew she wouldn’t have the patience to go through that ritual. She’d exhausted her own patience all summer, already, and it had been too long since Professor McGonagall had given her a tiring session of Animagus-training. She supposed she could always retreat to her parents’ home trainer, but decided this could be the perfect timing to speak with Amélie.

“Hermione?” Hermione’s attention went back to the shy girl in her room, “Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

Realising she was making the girl uncomfortable, Hermione quickly reassured her, making her sit on the edge of her bed. She didn’t know why Amélie blushed at that moment, but was too busy making last minute decisions, to care. She wouldn’t tell Amélie about her world, but that left her not so much room to talk about Harry, since the whole story was so connected to magic. Quickly making up her mind she tried to change the originally intended topic of conversation.

“So, do you have a special someone in your life?” Hermione cringed at the way she almost sounded like Lavender and Parvati right now, but she managed to not care too much. Amélie’s reaction, however was, to say the least, rather unexpected.

Paling first, she was reddening slowly. She got up and started mumbling while pacing. Hermione was confused and asked her what was wrong. Amélie looked up with a startled expression of realisation.

“Oh, so you don’t know?”

Hermione frowned: “Know what?”

It came out a bit more snappishly then she intended, but then again Hermione wasn’t one to take it lightly that she didn’t figure out that which was expected of her to figure out. What had been so queer about the question she’d asked? Ok, it wasn’t like her to put someone on the spot like that, and expect them to bare their souls to her, but she didn’t mean ‘girl-talk’ to have such results.

Amélie looked pale again, her hands were even shaking a little. Taking pity on her Hermione told her she could trust her, she could tell her anything, but if she didn’t want to, that was ok, too. Amélie looked at her with pleading eyes, almost afraid to believe her.

Taking a shaky breath Amélie said: “I thought maybe my mother had found out after all, and that that was the reason she’d sent me here, and that maybe she asked you to talk to me about it, or something. Not that I don’t like to be here with you, Hermione! But it’s just... No, mother wouldn’t do that, she’d just have her hysterics to me at home...”

Amélie paused a little while, and with the uncertainty that comes with lack of experience Hermione kept silent. Amélie sat back on the bed keeping a safe distance, while fidgeting nervously. Crookshanks decided to meddle then, when he nestled himself on Amélie’s lap and started purring as to put her more at ease. Her eyes had never seemed so blue before when she looked straight at Hermione before she continued.

“Yes, there is someone, or rather *was*... I liked that person very much, I think maybe I even loved... or maybe I was just in love with *being* in love, I don’t know... It’s just, it was the first time, you know... I mean, not like *that*, just, having someone... But it was just so complicated and confusing, and we had to hide it all the time because it was wrong, and then that person got sick of hiding and... it was just over”

Amélie looked miserable and on the verge of tears. Hermione, feeling dreadfully familiar with part of those emotions, took her hands: “What happened? Why is it over? Did he dump you? Why did you have to hide? Didn’t your mother approve of him?” Seeing as how she was overwhelming the distressed girl she quickly stopped firing questions at her. Hermione mumbled: “Sorry”

“It’s ok...” Amélie whispered, not very convincingly: “It’s just all so confusing...” her lower lip started to tremble.

Hermione did the only thing she could do in this situation: she hugged her. It took a while for the sobbing girl to calm down; in the meantime Hermione put her brain to good use. Puzzling things together, she got that sneaky suspicion. Normally this would be the time to head to the library and research the possibility to find a certain answer, but that particular tactic wouldn’t help here...

When Amélie had calmed down a bit, Hermione disentangled from the hug: “Amélie... What was her name?”

The French girl stiffened, looking at Hermione like a deer caught in headlights. But apparently she saw in Hermione’s eyes the assurance she needed to continue: “Sophie”

It was barely a whisper, but all the confirmation Hermione needed. Poor Amélie, she had grown up in a strict catholic household, and Hermione would bet a thousand galleons it wouldn’t be accepted by her mother to be ‘abnormal’. In that regard she could also relate. Hermione knew how it was to live a life not feeling like everyone else, and then discovering the reason is because you *aren’t* like everyone else. Ok, in most ways it was hardly comparable, but that didn’t mean she was going to let such a little thing bother her about Amélie: she was still the same girl, confused and hurt, unsure and lacking of self-confidence, and with a great burden to go with it. Frankly Hermione was even surprised she’d already admitted her sexual nature and had been through a relationship... She wouldn’t have found it peculiar for her to have waited and waited, scared of acting on her feelings...

When Amélie calmed down enough, the two girls spent their time talking softly. Amélie seemed so relieved Hermione wasn’t disgusted with her, and Hermione saw the other girl speaking more and more freely to her, though her composure was still fragile, and some tears did flow until it was time for dinner...

***

Hermione lay in her bed thinking about the events of today. It hadn’t only been the fact that she couldn’t go to Harry that day that had bugged her, but the idea that something was to happen, like last year with those poor babies, that Voldemort had something up his sleeve for today, was weighing on her. Though the trip to London and the Amélie’s confession followed by a deep conversation, had successfully kept it out of her mind, for a while anyway...

She had listened to Amélie talking about how she’d found out she had feelings for this new student at her school back in France. The whole angsty period before and after the first kiss, the first ‘I love you’s, the hiding, in fear of disproval, and then the end, when it doesn’t seem worth fighting for anymore, at least for one of them. Amélie’s first heartbreak... Hermione at first had been able to listen to the story without feeling the dread that maybe that would happen to her and Harry, too... Look at Tonks and Lupin, they hadn’t managed to keep it secret in the end... And now they were facing the consequences anyway...

But it was different for them, wasn’t it? They loved each other, and for the rest of the world they just pretended to be nothing more then friends to avoid having everything written about in the wizarding papers. And of course, a little bit because Voldemort could use... Well, he would do so even when she was just a friend, wouldn’t he? To Harry it wouldn’t exactly matter, best friend or girlfriend, he still cared very much, but maybe Voldemort didn’t see it that way? So maybe it was for the best to keep things hidden... It wasn’t like she needed Harry to give her a daily declaration of love, or having him send her roses all of the sudden, as long as she was sure he returned her feelings, she could live with pretending, couldn’t she?

She was frantically counting the seconds until midnight, fearing what would come before Harry’s birthday came to an end. Trying to distract herself, she imagined what Harry would be up to right now, what he had been doing to celebrate being able to do magic all the time. She hoped he didn’t curse his relatives, since he could still get in trouble with performing magic in front of Muggles.

Her digital clock showed 23.49, her eyes were drooping; she really should stop being paranoid... Sleep is good...

‘CRASH’

Glass shattering had Hermione up in no time. Judging the noise having originated from the kitchen, she got up as quietly as possible, reaching for her wand... When she went to open her door carefully, she froze, hearing footsteps bounding on the stairs. They were headed downstairs? Her parents! Don’t panic, yet, Hermione, they’re under the Fidelius, they’re safe.

The Gryffindor in her was hardly satisfied with that and she quickly followed. She was only halfway the stairs when she heard voices. “... put down...” “... Charles...” “What... ?” “... rifle...”

Especially the last word rang in her ears. Charles, the neighbour? What was he doing here at this hour? With a gun? Panic invaded her system when she ran for the kitchen. Her worst nightmare happened when she heard a gunshot, so loud an explosion that her heart seemed to stop beating in fright. The scream that followed was sure to haunt her for years to follow. Rounding the door opening she saw her father on the floor, his pyjama shirt soaked red, her mother’s hands pressing on his side. She had the fleeting memory of trying to stop the flow of blood out of the wound of wolf-Remus.

Tearing her eyes away from the horror when she heard a metallic click, she saw her neighbour Charles, with a strange gleam in his eyes pointing an ancient looking rifle at her mother. In despair Hermione looked on, sprinting to stand in front of her mother in protection, but everything seemed to go so fast, while she was moving too slowly!

She saw the finger triggering the release of a bullet out of the rifle: ‘CLICK’ The sound echoed in her brain, relief gripped her when she realised there weren’t any bullets left. Charles looked confused at his weapon, Hermione unable to move anymore. Her mother was talking to her father behind her, telling him to hang on. During Hermione’s indecisiveness Charles had walked towards the long kitchen knifes. Hermione felt like she was starring in a Muggle horror movie.

Charles started to speak in a monotone, advancing on her with the drawn knife: “Kill Grangers, kill Mudbloods...” At that last word Hermione suddenly remembered her wand. Whipping it out, she stunned him without thinking twice.

Behind her she heard someone applauding. Turning around so fast her head hurt slightly she saw the man who wouldn’t leave her nightmares: Dolohov.

“Quite impressive, little Mudblood! Don’t have any respect for the laws protecting Muggles? My, my...”

His sarcastic comment cut through her, but she stood before him with her wand drawn. The only reason she didn’t want to risk firing the first spell, was because he too had his wand drawn, and she wanted to avoid duelling with him as long as possible, preferably until the guards around her house alerted the rest and came to her rescue.

“How did you escape?” Hermione tried to ignore her mother’s cries and her father’s rasped breathing.

“I see what you’re thinking, dirty one. You’re buying time. You believe they’re coming to save you, because of the good old reliable wards” his cold voice chilled her to the bone, so did his smirk, “Let me tell you a little story. Buy all the time you want. They’re all too busy with your Boy Wonder at the moment. Your precious guard for tonight is out, and you’re all alone...” Dolohov cackled like evil men like to do.

“Why didn’t you join them? Why come bother little ol’ me?” Hermione tried to squash her fear for Harry, and concentrate on what was happening in front of her. And behind her: she was glad her mother had the sense of staying out of it, even if it felt so strange to stand in her kitchen, trying to protect her parents and herself, instead of her parents protecting her.

“Not happy to see me again, my mudblood? And here I was hoping you were waiting for me to re-enter your unworthy, too long life. Well, I guess I could always tell you, since you seem so eager to know... My Lord has granted me the pleasure of taking care of you. He doesn’t send his regards, but hopes you won’t enjoy it long and painfully. I see you’ve already encountered phase one of my plans,” Looking at Charles, his smirk grew wider, “Tell me? Are they dead?”

Dolohov ignored Hermione’s desperate glare full of hatred and continued without pause.

“No matter... Now, I have been thinking, what would my unworthy one prefer? I heard you already had the experience of a good nice Crucio!, so I won’t be able to be your first... which is a real shame... But oh, well, it *is* a classic”

Faster then Hermione could react he yelled the pain-curse, and she only managed to dodge it by a hair. The fabric of her nightshirt was singed. Sweat seemed to burst from her skin painfully when she escaped the pain only narrowly. Dolohov on the other hand didn’t seem perturbed in the least.

“No? Don’t want to play with that one? I’m sure we’ll find one we’ll both agree on. I have all the time and a lot more possibilities to show you. Let’s begin, shall we”

That was all the warning she got when he started pelting curse after curse at her, most of which she was able to dodge, and some block with a protection shield, or, when she was lucky, a counter-curse. Hermione had the distinct impression he was trying to tire her, that the real torture was yet to come, and the tiring bit was working, too. She started relying more on her protective magic, rather then dodge, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stop the real dark curses he would choose to send her way, when he was ready to do so. He was like a cat, playing with the mouse before mealtime.

Just as suddenly as it started Dolohov stopped the attack. It had probably been only a couple of minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Hermione. All air of sarcasm was gone now; he looked menacingly at her. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something cruel no doubt, but was stopped by an umbrella. Hermione blinked; Dolohov slumped, and revealed a trembling Amélie standing behind him, clutching the umbrella in question desperately. Avoiding Amélie’s gaze Hermione bound Dolohov as well as she could, took his wand away, and sent a few stunners his way, just to be sure. She didn’t want any surprises anymore.

She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard another shriek from her mother. Turning around, she saw Charles had gotten up again, and was stabbing the long kitchen knife at her mother, who was deflecting it with her now very bloody arm. Sending another stunner at Charles, she tried to reach her mother’s side as quickly as possible. Her mother was whimpering, and her father was unconsciously, but still breathing.

Amélie said in a monotonous voice: “Sorry it took a while, I sent Dante to McGonagall”

Hermione looked at her sharply: “How did you know to do that? How did you know her name? And how did you find Dante?” The owl was kept secret from other Muggles.

Amélie looked at her, scared out of her mind: “I don’t know, sometimes... I just *know* things... Hermione?... Are you a sorceress or something?”

Hermione just looked away, she didn’t have time to deal with this now. She saw Amélie fumble with the phone, undoubtedly calling an ambulance. Muggles? Hermione didn’t have the strength left to deal with these thoughts, and didn’t protest. If no one of the magical world had turned up around now, then there was a good chance they wouldn’t be coming in time.

Vaguely Hermione heard Amélie call her name. Looking up she saw the other girl shakily holding out the phone for her: “I dialled the emergency speed button...” The emergency? What?

Her mother answered painfully: “Dumbledore set it up for us, if we’d ever get in trouble when you were at school... I can’t believe we forgot to tell you”

Hermione took the phone from Amélie: “Who made that noise? This better not be some damn joke! Show yourselves!”

“Tonks!” Hermione almost wept from joy.

“Hermione,” the voice got from annoyed to worried in a moment, “Hermione, what’s wrong?”

“Tonks, please come at my house, please, you have to come! Dolohov was here, and... Tonks?”

A ‘Plop’ made Amélie squeal

“I’m here, girl,” a voice sounded from behind her, “Holy Shit! Hermione, you should’ve told me there was another Muggle here! Now I’m going to be in so much trouble...”

Hermione couldn’t believe Tonks was worrying over that, when her parents were suffering, until she realised Tonks couldn’t see her parents...

“Tonks, this is Jack Granger, and this is Helen Guillard, you have to help them!”

The pink-haired Tonks dived in her Auror’s potions kit, the second her gaze was fixed on where the now for her visible Muggles lay. Hermione knew these medical attentions were only temporary, since Tonks wasn’t a Healer, but it would buy them some more time. Hermione couldn’t believe they could be as stupid as to believe the Fidelius charm was going to solve all troubles, that her parents couldn’t be anything but completely safe...

But this wasn’t the time to wonder about that. Tonks was muttering something, and suddenly gripped Hermione’s arms: “Listen to me carefully... you performed magic, as an underaged? Did a Ministry owl come?”

Hermione was confused, what did that have to do with anything, right now? They had to help her mother and father! Why were they not doing something? Her parents were Muggles, so they couldn’t go to St-Mungo’s, and they couldn’t lose unnecessary time! Suddenly something in her brain clicked.

“No, he must have put some kind of barrier; he... Dolohov said he had all the time in the world, and that... Oh, Heavens, Harry!” Hermione felt again a surge of panic, keeping the adrenalin pumping in her veins. Tonks just shook her head and gripped her harder.

“Hermione, listen to me! Harry’s fine! We aren’t! We have to get out of here! Pack as much as you need, as quickly as possible. I’ll make a Portkey, and we’ll take your folks up to Headquarters,” Tonks seemed to ponder her decision, finally seeming fully resolved, “Yes, it’s the only way...” Pushing Hermione in the direction of the stairs, she mumbled: “I’m so getting in trouble for this, but I’m done caring...”

With that Hermione went upstairs, throwing a last quick look at her parents. At least they seemed a little better with Tonks’ potions. Running up the stairs, she dragged Amélie with her. Something about Amélie telling her she somehow knew to get Dante to contact McGonagall made some bells ring at the back of her head. Muggle or not, Amélie *was* accompanying her to Grimmauld. Hermione’d briefly considered maybe Amélie was some kind of spy, or a Polyjuiced person, or anything, but she’d dismissed the idea almost as soon as she got it. It didn’t seem to fit, and they could figure it out later anyway. Right now she wasn’t letting the girl out of her sight.

Hermione didn’t have to drag Amélie long, while she prepared her trunk for Hogwarts, making sure there weren’t any magical objects left, she went to her parents’ room, and quickly shrank all of their things into one suitcase. Faintly she heard sirens draw nearer. The gunshot! Other neighbours must have heard it and called the police!

Quickly she stumbled downstairs, Amélie on her heals. Tonks just closed the kitchen door, Charlie was missing. Seeing Hermione’s questioning glance she said: “Memory charm. Took him off the Imperius first, but he should be fine” Hermione couldn’t muster a lot of sympathy for the man right now...

The sirens were getting louder, and Tonks pushed a spoon in Hermione’s hands: “You know the procedure with Muggles and the house, right?” At Hermione’s nod, Tonks turned to Dolohov’s limp body and growled: “I’m gonna take care of this one. Strayed from his cage, did he?”

Hermione handed Tonks’ the wand he’d used. On closer inspection of the wand, Tonks growled even more, but there wasn’t time to explain why... Policemen were already at the door. Hermione turned to Amélie, who looked scared, but resolved. The Fidelius on Grimmauld Place wasn’t a barrier for Muggles, it was the older illusion charm surrounding the house that kept them from seeing it. Since her parents had already been there, there weren’t any problems there, but for Amélie...

“Amélie, listen to me, this is very important. When I tell you to touch this spoon, I want you to believe, in every fibre of your being that you will land in an existing house. It will be there and you will believe it’s there, this is very important, do you understand?”

At first the French girl seemed hesitant, but with the increasing ruckus the policemen were making outside, she seemed to get her act together. Positioning her parents, so that everyone could hold on to the spoon, Hermione activated the Portkey under the watchful eye of Tonks.

The pull on her navel lurched her towards her destiny...

***

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