They walked slowly through the streets of Surrey, with nothing more but mere gazes as an exchange. They've run out of things to say, and they knew of the unbelievable silence that started to surface between them. The small talk seemed to have faded between them, and Hermione started to feel tense and uneasy. Harry, amidst her knowledge, started to feel the same thing. They knew of what was to come next, and Harry knew perfectly well that Hermione had been avoiding the topic. He glanced sideways at her for a moment, and heard her small, frustrated whispers to herself.
"Hermione, tell me something." He spoke. She was startled by the sudden sound of his voice, but relaxed after and furrowed an eyebrow.
"Tell you what?"
"Why you decided to walk with me. There must be some reason why you asked me." He glanced back at her, and saw her nibbling on her bottom lip.
"Well, I just wanted to get well acquainted with you." She answered.
"I'd love to believe you Hermione, but it's pretty obvious that you wish to discuss something else." He received silence as a reply. He heaved a deep sigh as he glanced up at the darkening sky, with the thought of Sirius and where on earth he might be at that same moment. How he prayed for Sirius to be with him at that moment, and guide him through each event he would reveal to her eventually. Everything seemed so vague and fragile at that moment that he was afraid to let go of anything.
"Tell me what's holding you back, Hermione. Because honestly, our small talk is taking us nowhere."
"Won't it be awkward for you and I? It's such a sensitive topic, and I know you've been thinking about the same thing for the past half hour." Harry halted in his tracks, leading Hermione to stop as well. In a sudden move, he turned to face her, leaving Hermione breathless as the emerald eyes beneath his glasses seemed to pierce through her own. The space between them was evident, yet Hermione felt him stepping closer and closer to her.
"Tell me what you want to know." He said in a bare whisper that seemed to give her a sense of assurance. She closed her eyes momentarily and looked down to heave a deep sigh, before facing him once more with a vague look in her eyes.
"What did my grandfather ever do to you that made you so begrudged up to this time?" She looked up at him and noticed the way he glanced away for a moment. "My grandfather seems so troubled all the time, and I just want to know the severity of what he has really done. And maybe someday, he can be vindicated from all of this and just live life the way he used to." She noticed the vast expression in his eyes, and decided to just retreat with the topic.
"Harry, you don't have to do this, honestly. It was a stupid idea to bring you here, I'm sorry." She gave him one more gaze before walking away, cursing inwardly on how insensitive she could be. Yet, a foreign hand tugged on hers, and she was absolutely sure that it was his. She turned to look at him with a questioning gaze, yet he held the same expression on his face.
"Let me tell you what happened, please. It's the only thing that would liberate me from this." Almost at the same time, they glanced at their entwined hands and decided to let go. Hermione looked up at him and sighed, merely nodding. They led themselves to the benches by the far end, surrounded by great oak trees and a darkened sky.
"It was 1942. My uncle, Sirius Black, was the only family I had then. When my parents passed, he took me in. We lived a quiet life, so cautious of what was going to happen next if we make a mistake. There were explosions everywhere, and gunshots that reverberated in the distance. Yet, we both remained strong and courageous. It was World War II, and we seemed to be the only people that had truly accepted what came to be.
"I was celebrating my birthday when he was recruited into the army. Nights, I hoped for his return to come home in one piece. Yet, deep down, I knew that that was impossible. So the prayers stopped, and I knew deeply that I was left with my music and myself.
"They came soon after for the holocaust. They demanded for my uncle, yet he wasn't there. I stood there, motionless as they tortured me severely. It was a horrible night for me, that it's just purely indescribable. There was nothing left of me to do.
"One of them ordered for my imminent murder." She looked at him intently, unsure whether to stay or glance away from embarrassment.
"That man's name was Mackey White. He's your grandfather." She chose to look away, her gaze unable to look back at him due to the immense shame that started to build inside of her. He gazed through the clear winding road and heaved the last sigh he swore to himself. She remained silent, her breathing escalating and echoing in the air. She was speechless, and the silence became uncomfortable for both of them. There was a heavy awkwardness that followed, one that both of them acknowledged.
"I don't know what to say, Harry." She halted abruptly and cast her head down onto the asphalt. Harry's gaze never left her image.
"You don't have to say anything." He assured of her, yet she shook her head in rebuttal.
"No, I have to. I feel so responsible for all of this."
"You don't have anything to do with this. He was long forgiven." He looked back at her, trying to send a gaze of assurance towards her. Yet, she remained befuddled and in utter disbelief on the revelations she had just heard. For all those years, she still couldn't ponder on the fact that her grandfather had done so much harm to a fair amount of innocent people. She thought of the other millions begrudging him, loathing him and everyone related to him. Suddenly, her heart felt so heavy and burdensome. It pained her chest, and made her head swirl in a plethora of confusion.
"I apologize." She then whispered. He looked at her with a firm smile on his face. With a small hold of her hand, and a questioning look from Hermione, they both stood up from their seats, having Harry lead her through a multitude of different streets.
"Come with me." They walked in silence, unable to say anything more. Yet, it was comfortable. Uneasiness seemed absent from them that time as they walked side by side, their eyes avoiding each other's gazes. Harry suddenly turned right through a small lane, and Hermione obediently followed. By the end, she glanced upon a small flickering light. It was orange as it mingled with the sky above them, and the atmosphere that started to turn warm. Approaching eagerly, she saw a single candle with a dancing flame, one that stood firmly by one of the posts of the tall mansion gate.
Hermione stared at the towering house in awe.
"What is this?" She asked. Harry unlocked the chains entangled by the gate's sides.
"This, Hermione, is my Home."
--thepianist--
They entered through the huge mahogany doors and were instantly greeted with a suspended darkness. Harry groped the wall for a few moments, just as Hermione stood meekly by the doorstep. She resisted the urge to wince at the profound smell of gunpowder that continued to linger inside, arousing a feeling of unwelcoming inside of her. Through the cloth of darkness, she saw Harry's small movements. The loud tapping of his heels against the floor seemed to be the only evidence that someone beneath the darkness existed. In an instant, the room brightened with a mellow, orange light that emanated from the chandelier. The way her eyes sparkled seemed to catch Harry's attention, earning an amused chuckle from him.
"Harry, this is all yours?" She asked breathlessly. He grinned back at her as he hung his jacket by the coat rack, his shoes squeaking against the flooring.
"My parents', actually. My uncle's as well. Come, I'll show you around." She smiled excitedly as her heels followed his eagerly. He climbed the flight of stairs, looking back occasionally to find her trotting after him. It still amused him to see the lasting awed expression on her face. The way her face lit up seemed to urge him to smile with her.
"Whom do you live with?" She suddenly asked. He looked back slightly and replied such,
"No one. I live alone." She looked at him, a raised eyebrow adorning her face.
"All of this, and you're the only one who benefits from it?"
"Well, yes. It's really all I have." He stopped by the top stair and sat down. Hermione did such as well, her knees bending sidewards as she sat beside him. "It's the only memory I have of the past that used to be mine."
Hermione felt something at that moment, and she had merely disguised it for pity. She looked at him, her face softening as his own looked through the far flight below them. The raw emotion that flashed from his eyes at that same period piqued her own as well, and made her long to swipe it away and return the jolly expression of the man she had grown fond of for the last few hours. The familiar silence they both knew of resurfaced, and Hermione chose to hug her knees close to her.
"Do you still ponder on the fact that he may still be alive?" She suddenly spoke. He glanced at her, his questioning gaze urging her to elaborate.
"Who?"
"Your uncle." He nodded vaguely.
"Everyday. Sometimes I envision him coming through those doors as if nothing happened. Like it was just an ordinary Sunday, and that he'd come and scold me for not cleaning the attic like he instructed me to." She tried to smile, yet her lips resisted. The way the light flickered in his eyes signaled the fall of the tears that seemed bottled up inside of him for too long. "It's just been too long for the hope to stay alive…" he muttered between sniffs. Amidst the rebellious screaming in her head, she chose to hold onto his hand and stroke it gently as a comforting gesture. For a moment, she'd thought she saw something else flash through his eyes as he stared at her own.
"The hope's still alive, Harry. It's grasped tightly in your palm. You'll just have to hold on before it breaks lose and fades away forever." He broke his gaze, seemingly affected by her choice of words. She let go of his hand quickly, afraid of what his reaction might be. She noticed his knuckles turn white as he squeezed them tightly into a fist. The veins stood out obliquely, and at that moment his upper arm started to shake from the force he was exerting.
"Harry, what are you doing?" She asked in worry.
"If it's attempting to break loose, then now's the best time to grasp it while its still there." Somehow, the struggle that played through her eyes made her smile gently. In a quick motion, she wrapped her own hands around his fist, noticing it loosen as his gaze fell on her. In a way, they spoke through the suspended silence, saying nothing as their stare continued on.
"We'll hold on to it together, then."
--thepianist-
A/N: This may have taken a considerable amount of time to make and for that, I apologize. There was a major writer's block going on in my head, and all my sources of inspiration seemed to have bailed out on me. Hopefully, the wait didn't take so long. ^-^