Love is hope: Life after sixth year

***

Bill looked down, straight into his baby sister’s eyes: “It’s mum...”

***

Hermione felt her insides turn icy; you could’ve heard a pin drop after Ginny’s gasp. No, this can’t be happening: first her parents, now Mrs. Weasley... Is she ok, or is she... Oh Harry, how was he going to cope with this also? After loosing Sirius, Hermione wasn’t sure he could deal with loosing the woman who’d treated him as her long-lost son!

The tension was almost too much to bear. Any moment now someone was bound to talk... either the boys would start explaining or the girls would plead, threaten, beg for information...

“Miss Granger!”

Holy cricket! Jumping a foot into the air, she felt Harry’s arm tighten around her and Amélie squeal in the background. Dumbledore had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, glaring at her twinkle-free. She’d only seen him like this a few times before... Gulping she looked at him questioningly.

His gaze had moved to Amélie. He spoke importantly: “Come with me”

There was no doubt in her mind that he was speaking to her and Amélie. Glancing quickly at Harry she hoped to find an answer in his expression, but was surprised when she saw him glaring at Amélie, too.

The younger Muggle, in the mean time, seemed to have lost whatever little spontaneously found self-confidence from moments before. Keeping her gaze to the ground, her shoulders slumped, she walked quickly towards the old wizard, not daring to stand up for herself. Hermione found herself frowning and wanting to protest, but was led by Harry’s arm in a way that left no other option as to follow Amélie and her Headmaster.

Confused Hermione saw that they were heading towards the drawing room. Tonks was already there, together with McGonagall. Both older witches stood rigidly at the sight of Dumbledore entering. As soon as the door was shut Harry rounded on Amélie, drawing his wand:

“Who are you? Who do you work for?”

Amélie looked like the proverbial deer, caught in headlights. Scared out of her wits she looked into Harry’s eyes. Hermione knew how intense his stare was, especially when he was as angry as this. But what was going on? Anger at the unjust treatment Harry was giving Amélie she stood for her:

“Harry! What’s going on? I know she’s a Muggle, and she’s not supposed to be here, but she was in danger! We had to do some quick thinking and I’m sorry I brought her here...”

“She’s not a Muggle, Miss Granger”

Dumbledore might as well have shouted, Hermione felt like slapped in the face.

“Wha...”

Turning to look at Amélie, she saw terror in those blue eyes. But, Amélie couldn’t have betrayed her, did she? She was one of her only real childhood friends... They knew each other like sisters, almost. Well, as close as sisters as you could get if you saw the other less then a few weeks a year, tops...

Feeling Harry grab her shoulder and yanking her away from Amélie, Hermione’s thoughts jumbled over each other in rapid succession.

“No, she can’t be a witch, we all gave her our wands to try, and nothing happened...”

Harry spat: “She sends off Dark Magic, can’t you feel it?”

Hermione shook her head dumbly; no, this isn’t happening. But she trusted Harry beyond everything; he wouldn’t say this if he weren’t sure. Amélie, in the mean time was looking like she was about to be slaughtered any moment. In a quivering voice she asked:

“Hermione? What does this mean? What’s going on?”

McGonagall spoke now for the first time, they’d entered the room: “Miss Serkent, how did you know how to send Dante?”

Amélie looked embarrassed: “I... I don’t kn-know, Ms Mine-nerva. I... L-luna said I wa-was a Sentireader or something? I... I don’t know... I just sometimes... know s-stuff.”

Harry snorted at that, which caused Hermione to look at him sharply.

Harry: “What? You don’t even believe in Divination!”

“Aren’t you supposed to know whether she’s lying or not, Harry Potter! Do your Le... thing!” Realising she had almost spoken out of line in front of McGonagall and Tonks, Hermione had no clue as to whether or not they knew Harry practised a bit of Legilimency.

“She’s definitely hiding something!” Harry answered stubbornly.

Dumbledore, who had been calm but eerily twinkle-free for the whole time, spoke: “Miss Granger does have a point, there... However, this does nothing to undo the fact that the house’s wards recognised her as a witch, and that she does have an aura of Dark Magic about her. We must proceed with carefulness, we cannot just look into her mind unprepared...”

Hermione couldn’t believe that, there had to be another explanation. There had to be some logic to this...

Amélie finally found the courage to speak up: “But I’m not a witch! I didn’t even know about Hermione until today! Please, you have to believe me? Hermione, please, I’m telling the truth!” Tears streaming down her cheeks now.

Harry pulled Hermione behind him: “Don’t you dare speak to her! You’ve betrayed her trust enough already!”

“Harry! What’s gotten into you! Leave her alone! She’s terrified as it is!”

“But she’s lying, she’s just using you, don’t you see! She could be a spy for Voldemort!”

Tonks chose this moment to step into the conversation: “I know I’m kinda responsible for this mess, and all... but, can I just say: if that’s supposed to be a spy, then I’m Santa! Come on! She breaks down at the first sign of potential discovery, she gives herself away by knowing stuff only a witch is supposed to know... If you ask me, there’s only one way to know for sure...”

Dumbledore interrupted again: “Yes, Minerva, would you be so kind as to get Severus and tell him to bring his speciality. Nymphadora, I’ll talk to you later...”

With these instructions, both older witches left the room. Dumbledore sat down on the biggest chair in the room and transfigured three identical separate chairs out of the large couch for the youths. Amélie’s eyes almost popped out at the sight of the practical magic.

Dumbledore was watching Amélie like a hawk. Gesturing for the teenagers to take a seat, Hermione was very uncertain about what was to come next. Watching Amélie sit down hesitantly, looking as if she expected the chair to fall through any moment, something clicked in her mind.

“What happened to Mrs. Weasley? Is she all right?”

Harry’s posture stiffened and Dumbledore’s eyes conveyed their sadness to Hermione. But it was Amélie who answered: “She’s in a coma”

Hermione had stopped trying to make sense of Amélie’s blurt-outs. Maybe after she’d dealt with today’s happenings, she would feel up to research every possibility, but her brain was close to melt-down as it was... Dumbledore’s expression became one of extreme curiosity, whereas Harry still scowled...

Before anyone could respond vocally however, Snape strode into the room dramatically...

“Headmaster” bowing his head shortly to the old wizard, he proceeded to sneer at the rest of the company... McGonagall trailed after him. Snape took out a vial with a clear substance in it. Hermione jumped up:

“Veritasserum! But...”

Dumbledore, however, chose to ignore Hermione, as did Harry when she looked at him for help. Dumbledore spoke soothingly to Amélie:

“Miss Serkent? What we have here is a very strong potion. It will do nothing to harm you, it will just enable us to ask you questions, and you won’t be able to give us untrue answers. Do you understand?”

Amélie looked at him carefully: “It won’t be painful? And you won’t ask embarrassing questions?”

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly: “I won’t, and if you’re really not comfortable I could send some people away...”

Amélie shook her head rapidly: “I want Hermione with me!”

Dumbledore nodded sagely, and gestured for Snape to hand her the vial. Taking a shuddering breath, Amélie followed the instructions and let only one drop fall on her tongue. That would only last half an hour, and they could still administer more, if they suspected she was able to fight the effects... Slumping in the chair her eyes glanced over. The room was heavy with respectful silence, as it was a courtroom.

Dumbledore asked the first question: “What is your name?”

“Amélie Sérana Serkent” Amélie’s voice sounded extremely monotonous.

“What are your parents’ names?”

“My mother is Sérisé Maligna Serkent and my stepfather is Grégoire Paul Granger, Hermione’s father’s cousin”

“You do not know your real father?”

“No, my mother was raped”

Hermione was shocked, even she didn’t know this. Yes, she knew Amélie’s mother had already been pregnant by the time her parents got married, but she always assumed... Well, let’s just say, Hermione didn’t know this...

“Are you a witch?”

“No”

“Have you ever made something happen?”

“Not that I know”

“How did you know about Mrs. Weasley?”

“I don’t know, sometimes information pops into my head and it’s true. It’s always a little more frequent when I’m visiting Hermione, but it’s never been as much as today. Most of the times I’m in close proximity of the people who already know what I’m about to receive, and sometimes I feel it come into me when I touch someone, but it isn’t until later that I know. It’s like I can read minds, but without meaning to; maybe like receiving thoughts and feelings? I don’t know. But I think Mr. Dumbledore knows...”

“Do you know anything about Voldemort?”

“Yes, Hermione, Ginny and Luna talked to me about him. He’s supposed to be the bad guy, a dark wizard who wants to kill Harry and a lot of other wizards and witches. The girls told me all about how Harry stopped him when he was a baby and everything”

Dumbledore briefly glanced at Hermione and seemed satisfied with the affirmative nod she gave him.

“Are you a spy?”

“No”

“Do you have any idea as to someone using you to bring you closer to the magical world?”

“No”

“Do you know why there’s an aura of Dark Magic around you?”

“No. I’m afraid you think it means I’m evil”

“Aren’t you?”

“I don’t think so”

Dumbledore was stroking his beard pensively, when Harry took over: “What do you mean, you don’t think you’re evil?”

Hermione was a bit peeved at Harry. Though he’d stopped scowling he still didn’t look like he trusted Amélie.

“I like to think I’m a good person, but I’m not a good Christian”

Hermione knew this was about her being a lesbian. Amélie had been taught strictly that these feelings she had were wrong, so acting upon them would make her bad...

“Harry, leave her alone. She’s had a very strict catholic upbringing, so about everything in the modern Muggle world is considered as evil by her mother. Please don’t make her confess to something embarrassing...”

Harry relented and looked at Dumbledore.

“Well, I say this merits further investigation. But for now, I think it prudent to leave Amélie here, in this house” Dumbledore looked at Harry briefly, as if asking consent, after which he looked at Amélie.

“Harry, Hermione, I want you two to bring Amélie upstairs, and to, all three of you go sleep a bit. You all look like you need it”

To Hermione’s surprise Harry didn’t argue. Amélie who was slowly coming out of the daze the potion put her in, let herself be dragged out of the room. They past the big dining room where the noise of several people talking and mulling about could be heard. The three didn’t stop to look but went straight for the girls’ room. Arriving there Hermione saw there had already been placed a fourth bed for Amélie.

Amélie sat down on the bed. In a very shy and soft tone she asked: “Are we supposed to sleep right now?”

Hermione sat down on her bed and looked at Harry shuffle his feet: “I’m guessing I should apologize for being such a jerk right then...”

Hermione watched Harry with an aching heart. He had only been concerned for her safety... Not expecting Amélie to be so forward, Hermione saw her thrust her hand out to Harry:

“Amélie Serkent”

With a faint smile: “Harry Potter”

Shaking hands, Amélie returned a weak smile saying: “I’m sorry to tell you I already heard all about you...”

That’s when that strange look flitted over Amélie’s face again. Looking startled at Harry, she suddenly pulled him into a tight hug. Harry, of course startled too, looked down at the top of her head, when she lifted her gaze. Cupping her hand next to his ear she whispered something before taking off muttering something about using the loo.

Hermione looked at Harry, then at the closed door of the now abandoned room (well, except for the two of them); throwing all conventions into the wind, she ran up to him and crushed herself into him. Relieved when she felt him hugging her back just as fiercely she couldn’t help but letting tears fall. All the tension, all the still unanswered questions, it all still hunted her, but it didn’t seem that important right now. Now that she was safe in his arms...

***

Hermione couldn’t say how long they’d been silent like that. They’d both drawn strength to continue from the proximity of their bodies. Harry’d ended up sitting on her bed, with his back to the headboard and Hermione leaning sideways on his chest. Finally daring to break the silence, Hermione said:

“I was so scared for you when Dolohov said you would have your hands full...”

Harry’s body stiffened underneath hers: “What! Dolohov? Wait a minute! Why exactly are you here?”

Hermione was surprised he didn’t know. She hesitantly talked about how their neighbour Charles had hurt her parents under the Imperius, and how Dolohov had played with her, until Amélie had hit him unconscious with an umbrella. She couldn’t lie about the seriousness of her parents’ condition, even when she saw he was planning to carry the burden of guilt about that too.

“Harry! It’s not your fault! I’m just so relieved you’re ok...”

...

“Harry? ... What did happen at Privet Drive?”

Harry looked at her with that haunted empty look again; not able to stand it, she did something very un-Hermione-like: she launched a lip-attack... Hermione always loathed the expression snogging someone’s brains out, but this was what she was trying to do to Harry. Feeling the desperation in the kiss from his side too, she became more aggressive. Turning her body so that she was straddling him, she took his face firmly into her hands and shivered when she felt his on her hips. Both moaning a bit, they jumped apart when they heard a crash in the hallway.

Apparently it was nothing of significance, and Harry and Hermione settled onto her bed panting only slightly. Hermione forced herself to look up to Harry. His eyes weren’t empty anymore, there was a green turmoil of emotions seen there, touching Hermione to the core.

She braced herself for whatever was coming next. Though the exhaustion was felt to her bones, she’d never felt more awake in her life...

***

Please review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...