Hush by msscribe
Summary: Hermione Granger has been missing from Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry for almost four months. Everyone thinks she's most likely dead. Everyone except Harry, who's beginning to hear things…
Disclaimer: No profits are being made off the fiction on these pages. Harry Potter, associated characters and the associated Harry Potter universe is © J. K. Rowling and respective publishers.
AN: Here is to writing because you love it - and to Babygrrl, for biting the heads off of caramel bunnies.
~~~~~~~~
Chapter 1 - Dead Air
The morning begins with a whispered complaint from the dresser, as the floor shakes violently from the master slamming the front door. Hermione never sees him off, and she hopes he never insists upon it. She sits up in the bed, and the covers pull themselves down. The room he has her stay in is small and dark. She is alone in the house now, and the next five hours or so are the only one's she finds tolerable. She pulls on her robe, trying not to listen to it whine about being hung up properly, and walks down the staircase towards the kitchen. The hallway is filled with things. Some look like they are very valuable, others do not. There are so many things in tiny glass boxes, or displayed on empty bookshelves, that she still hasn't seen all of them. In a few glass displays, he has tiny creatures equipped with artificial environments. The fairy in the box at the bottom of the stairs is still asleep, and curses when Hermione accidentally bumps into it's home.
She is underfed- table says as Hermione opens the kitchen door - too skinny to be fully grown-
If only she'd use me more - iron skillet retorts - it isn't my fault; it's her lack of appetite -
'I'll be seventeen in a few weeks,' Hermione replies without making a sound, although she doubts she looks it now.
Everything speaks. Everything but her. But at least they can hear her.
Please use me today -teapot begs- I'm in desperate need of being useful-
She promises it that she will, even though she's tired of tea. The kitchen is cold, so she asks the fireplace to light. A tiny flicker begins to spark from the black soot, and soon grows into a weak flame. She detests that it is always so cold in there.
I'll try to get things going fast- fireplace says, hearing her thoughts.
She neglects to block her mind from them sometimes; it's very easy to forget that they are always listening. She doesn't mind being alone with them because they are usually helpful and kind. They all pity her, but they are either afraid of, or fiercly loyal to, their master.
When she first began to hear them, she had tried to get them to help her. They wanted to. Doors sobbed because they were too afraid to unlock for her. Windows slammed shut whenever she got too near. They were terrified of their master's temper. She used to arrogantly pity them, but now she had become one of them. Just another object in a madman's collection. A madman who had taken her in the middle of the night while her roommate had slept peacefully only a few feet away.
He rules the thicket! He rules all things that grow here! You are disobedient, and master was justified in taking away your speech! - the trees outside of her window had told her, after she had begged them to send down a message through their leaves that she was being held against her will. They were angry with her, calling her a traitor to the forest for disobeying their king.
'What day is it?' she asks the clock.
Tuesday, the twenty first of May -
It has been one hundred and three days since she has seen Harry or Ron. One hundred and three days since she has heard the sound of her own voice. She turns on the stove, and the skillet rattles around happily when the icebox door creaks open.
Breakfast will be lovely, you'll see - skillet says.
'I'm sure it will, thank you.'
She sits down at the table. The chair pushes itself in. The lights in every room begin to flicker on one by one, and the house comes alive.
~~~~~~~~
" I'm sorry to have to inform you that the Grangers are coming today to collect Hermione's belongings. We can't keep her room, as it is now, over the summer holiday. Both of you know she wouldn't have wanted that," Professor Dumbledore says soberly.
Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley slump down in their chairs. This wasn't unexpected. In fact, they were glad Dumbledore had waited until the last day of class. Ron shifts uncomfortably and looks toward Harry, who's toying with a piece of string hanging from the sweater Molly Weasley had sewn him last Christmas.
"Would you both be kind enough to meet them when they arrive, and help them pack up Hermione's belongings?"
Harry nods his response.
"Sure, we'd be happy to," Ron says for both of them.
"That's very kind indeed. I am terribly sorry. I know how much Miss. Granger meant to both of you. I pray that she will be found unharmed. That is all any of us can hope for."
The wind blows hard against the stained glass window to Dumbledore's right. The sorting hat snores up on the third shelf, on vacation until the start of the next school year, and Dumbledore's beard is at least a foot longer then when all three of them started school six years ago. Harry can't believe Hermione isn't sitting beside them.
The day they found out she was missing was like any other day. They had waited for almost an hour in the common room before Pavarti had come down and told them that Hermione wasn't in their room. They were a little angry with her for standing them up, but he and Ron went to breakfast anyway. When she wasn't there, they had gone to the library to look for her. There were still no signs of Hermione. She had simply vanished into thin air. They had met with the Ministry almost weekly since, with no leads.
Rumors spread like wildfire. There were tales of her running away to live as a Muggle, and even one saying that she was secretly tied to Voldemort. Harry and Ron had been in quite a few fights on behalf of their best friend these last few months, but none of that mattered much because after many sleepless nights and frustrating days, they were still left without her.
"If either of you need someone to talk to, I will always make myself available to you."
Harry says nothing. But thinks quite a few things.
~~~~~~~~
They make their methodical way through their early classes, now having grown accustomed to the empty seat in the front row. Nothing has stopped, and that's what bother's Harry the most. People still laugh at Neville, Draco Malfoy still manages to get in his healthy dose of insults, and Quidditch is still as popular as ever.
He and Ron go to all of their classes faithfully,on a day when most students were skipping. Hermione would be glad of that. She was always harassing them to take their studies more seriously.
When they reach the door to Hermione's room, they hover in the hallway listening to see if her parents are inside. There is silence. They force themselves to wait another five minutes, just in case, and then Ron delicately pushes the door open. They peer cautiously within. The Grangers haven't arrived yet.
"Do you think we should start without them?" Ron asks, looking at the empty trunk next to Hermione's desk.
"No, probably not," Harry sighs sitting on her bed. His head is pounding, thinking about the morbid task ahead. "I know she's alive Ron. I can feel it."
Ron kicks at the dust on the floor. "I want her to be alive too, but I think we have to be realistic. It's been a long time."
"I know," Harry says, looking over at her dresser.
Her hairbrush. Some hand lotion. A picture of her and her parents. Then his eyes settle on what the picture is sitting on top of. It's Hermione's copy of "Hogwarts a History", 523rd Edition. He moves the picture aside, picking up the book.
She needs me, please get me to her, she's lost without me -
Harry turns to look at Ron, who is staring at him blankly.
"Did you say something?"
"No, why… what is it?" Ron replies looking around the room.
Harry stares at the book in his hand. He listens. Nothing.
"I just thought maybe you said something."
Ron raises his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're hearing voices again. Please say your not hearing voices."
"No," Harry says, "I guess I'm just dreading this."
Ron looks relieved, panicky thoughts of giant spiders and chamber monsters now subsiding.
"Me too," Ron shrugs, looking around at the well organized room.
They sit in silence for a few minutes. The Grangers were probably meeting with Dumbledore first.
"Caramel Bunny?" Ron asks, pulling two angry rabbit shaped candies out of his pocket. "They're annoying little buggers, but they're fun to eat. You just have to bite their heads off right away, or else they'll start screaming at you."
Harry smiles weakly. "Sure, thanks Ron," he replies chomping down on the pissed off confectionary.
The door creaks open, and Mrs. Granger enters, her eyes puffy and red. For a long moment, Harry struggles to gear down his complex thoughts about what could have happened to Hermione. He tries to focus on being a friend to Hermione's parents.
Ron speaks first, his hands fisting up around the empty candy wrappers.
"We haven't given up on finding her," Ron says, and Mrs. Granger flashes them a warm smile.
"We know that boys. Thank you so much for everything," Mr. Granger says, picking up the picture on the dresser.
~~~~~~~~
Hermione always takes her dinner in the front room, the only room in which he allows the windows to remain open. From there, she can hear the evening noises: the rustling of the breeze through the trees; some small animals scrabbling around in the bushes. She has no illusions that the mind searching capacities of the things around her can be completely blocked out, but at least she can feel alone, unwatched.
She waits there. She tries to handle her current situation with stoic patience. She has learned from all the years of fighting beside Harry and Ron that yielding to anguish is useless.
She can't see very far outside. There are too many trees blocking her view, unwilling to bend for her.
He's given you so much and you are still ungrateful - an elder tree scolds, reading her thoughts.
She struggles to clear her head. This could very well be her world now, and she had better learn to get along in it.
She hears the door open, then slam shut. She waits.
"You will be most interested in the day I've had today Hermione," he says, his voice ringing out, deep and over-loud as he enters the room. He smiles his toothy smile and rests his hands on his hips.
She forces her lips to curl at the edges, and satisfied with her false response, he begins to tell her about his successful day of protecting his kingdom. His black, beady eyes bear down into hers as he recounts disturbing anecdotes filled with death and violence. He tells her these tales as if they were epic stories of romance and love.
His hands are red, stained with the blood of some unfortunate soul who wandered too far into the forest that day. His thick, dark brown hair is in a constant state of disarray, and she can barely bring herself to stare at his face too long, remembering in vivid detail the night he had sucked the breath from her, leaving her speechless. There are so many lines around his eyes that he looks as if he is at least two hundred years old. It wouldn't surprise her if he were.
Her eyes lift briefly, involuntarily, to the blood on his hands again. He releases an unexpected peal of laughter.
"I don't think you are ready yet to go into the forest with me. You are safer here. I can't have that bloody Giant trying to take you from me."
He has never tried to harm her physically, or …violate her. That was her biggest fear at first, but he didn't show any interest in anything except simply possessing her.
'A useless object.'
There are sighs and hisses all around the room as she thinks this.
'My apologies, I'm just tired,'
We aren't useless, we simply aren't-
'Of course you aren't,' she thinks, meaning it this time.
His mouth twists wryly. "You are getting better at obeying the rules. If you keep this up, I may allow you more privileges," he says to her, picking up one of her curls and smoothing it straight behind her ear.
As he speaks to his prize possession, his arms twitch with the suppressed urge to wring his hands around her neck. He doesn't really want to hurt her; it's just an innate reaction when he is around humans. He is strong enough to overcome this impulse. After all, he has killed two humans already today.
Wearily, she nods and lowers her head. The cushy chair she is sitting in is humming a happy tune. She is envious. Hermione hasn't laughed in a long time. She hates that she cowers before this 'creature'. It is only the shock of seeing him, she tells herself.
"You may retire when you like, but keep the windows open. It's too warm in here for my liking," he says, leaving her alone again.
He knows that she won't flee. She wouldn't make it pass the first row of trees if she did.
~~~~~~~~
Harry awakens to the sound of something jumping around on the floor.
Thud…Bonk.
"Crookshanks?" he whispers, sitting up to look for the cat he and Ron had adopted ever since Hermione's disappearance.
She needs me, don't you understand? There is no time for sleep. I can't imagine what she's doing without me-
"Who's there?" Harry asks.
Something clinks, and then scuffs up against his bedpost. He reaches for his glasses, blinking twice as he sees the book, the book he had asked the Granger's if he could keep. It wiggles and falls flat again.
We need to go to her. I've waited so long-
Harry looks over at Ron, who is snoring loudly on the other side of the room.
'This can't be happening,' Harry thinks.
I'm choosing to speak to you, even though it means I'm an outlaw now, and I will probably be banished-
He hadn't said anything, but the book had heard him. He picks it up and it feels just like any other book, cold and lifeless.
'Do you know where Hermione is?'
Then the book trembles and its pages open to the section on the Forbidden Forest.
She has been collected-
"What?" he says out loud.
Ron stirs a little, groaning. "What's going on, Harry?" he mumbles.
"I'm not sure Ron, but could you look at something for a minute. I think it might be important."
Ron groans again. "Christ Harry! It's three o'clock in the morning, what can be that important?"
"It might be about Hermione."
Ron grows quiet and sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is sticking straight up from the center, and if Harry wasn't still in shock from what the book had just told him, he would be laughing.
Collected, he collects things…page 1,302 -
"Did you hear that?" Harry asks Ron.
Ron glares at Harry.
"You lied to me! I knew you were hearing voices again! I can't believe-"
"Shhhhhhh….." Harry whispers, hearing it again. The book jumps, and slams into the bedpost again.
"Did you just do that?" Ron says eyeing the book suspiciously.
Pick me up, pick me up -
"No, it did it on it's own. It's talking to me."
Ron flops back onto his bed. "Your crazy, do you know that?"
Harry stands and picks up the book.
'Where is she?' he says silently.
In the center of the forest, where only he dwells, not quite a myth, not quite a man, but real -
'We have to find her,' Harry thinks.
Harry lays the book down on his bed and walks over to Ron, flicking on the lamp.
"Ron, I think she's in the forest somewhere. I think that maybe she's been kidnapped."
Ron shakes his head. "What? Dumbledore has had Hagrid scour the forest inch by inch."
"Not beyond the swamp."
Ron sighs. "No one goes beyond the swamp, not even Hagrid…not even Dumbledore himself goes there. Only the occasional Muggle is foolish enough to wander in there."
"I think that's where she is."
Ron recognizes the serious tone of Harry's voice. His jaw drops. "Your not kidding are you? You really think this book is talking to you? On it's own? A stupid book?"
"Yes, I promise I'll explain more tomorrow but I want you to come with me."
Harry looks at the floor. "I understand if you won't."
Ron lays down again, growling.
"Why the hell not? I'm destined to die with you anyway. I think even Mum and Dad have accepted that fact."
Harry smiles and flicks off the lamp. He goes back to his own bed pulling open the window shade just enough to filter in some moonlight. He picks up the book again.
'I hope this is real,' Harry thinks.
I'm an outlaw now, so many rules broken, but I love her. I'd die for her. She loves us -
The books pages flutter again, and it stops at a section about Quidditch. There is a doodle at the top right corner. It's a pencil-traced heart, with HARRY scribbled in the middle.