Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

Author Note: Hermione's parents dwell on their daughter's growing depth of depression. Coerced, Hermione goes to stay with them, a breath of fresh air for Emilie and Frederick Granger in hopes for a turnaround. Unfortunately, terror lurks in the shadows of seeming refuge with innocence caught between life and death.

***

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Visitors

***

I'm losing myself.

I'm losing myself, and I don't know how to stop it.

Whenever I sleep it's dark.

And, not the obvious sense of "dark".

Foreboding…

In the darkness, I'm running down a hallway inside the Ministry full of mirrors, and all I see in them are reflections of me multiplied billions of times.

It's nauseating, and that is how I feel.

I want to vomit.

I want to cry.

There's a door at the other end of hallway, but it doesn't open. It has one a large, metal loop for a handle. I've gone so far as to put my foot upon the door and use it to help pry the door open. I hear screams behind the door. Why do I want to go in? I think it's Harry. I believe it's Harry. That's what keeps me trying. I have to get in there. I have to get in there and save him from the horror making him scream. All I can see are serpents. I hear parseltongue. I smell the sweet scent of burning flesh.

I have to get in there.

Bright green light flashes, outlining the cracks around the door…

I wake up.

***

"Cupcake?"

"Yes, mummy?"

"You sound terrible. What's wrong?"

"It's Harry…"

Eight days later…

"…I hear you, love. Sometimes when your father is gone on business it gets difficult. But, then I remember that he's doing his best to come home."

"Heh…"

I sat on the kitchen floor.

The chords connecting to telephone to the placeholder on the wall strung tight from its original curl-shaped structure. I had my back against the cabinets. Mum had called and woke me up. Not that I was having a wonderful dream, anyway. Waking me was a blessing. Either my dreams were images of death, destruction, horrendous pain I'd literally feel when coming to, or…the hallway…

"Cheer up, my love. I know it's difficult in the beginning, being away from your dearest, but I swear in the end everything's better. I promise."

"…You promise?"

"A promise from your mother is a promise you can keep," Mum took a pause, but quickly came back. I knew she could hear the depression encompassing my voice. "Say, I have an idea."

"Hm…?"

"I know you've always been independent. You've always wanted to do everything on your own, but come home. Just for a few days."

"Mum…"

"Blame it on these dinosaur fossils wanting to see their daughter."

I don't know why I fought this so hard.

A perfectly good option on the table, and I felt to decline.

It might have had to do with the simple fact my mother spelt out; that, I was super assertive, independent, and I wanted to forge my own path in life. I've been called "stubborn," but looking at the past and the streaks of good luck stubbornness have given me. I just couldn't-

"Hermione?"

"Yes? …Sorry."

"I'm not used to hearing you like this, love. You're zoning in and out, and that isn't healthy by any means. I think you should-"

"I'm fine, mum. Look, I-"

"Your aunt needs a sitter for tonight."

"Mum…"

"Your father and I are going to the theatre with aunt Ariel and uncle Paris and she needs someone she trusts."

I went silent.

"Your room is ready for you, clean sheets and fresh rose potpourri. I'll make your favourite dinner. Please come and visit your old folks. We're worried sick about you."

I heard my mother's plea, her desperation.

"Okay… I'll be over right after I've thrown together a few things. Pyjamas, toothbrush, shampoo, you know…"

"All right, love. I'll let you get ready. See you then."

***

A mini-suitcase was all I packed.

I stood, having apparated, on the beginnings of my parent's driveway. My father's Aston Martin dulled by the cloudy sky, the navy blue resembled a blackest of colour. Both of my hands, one over the other, held onto the handle of my single luggage. I trudged the incline towards home. The bag would sway and hit my legs, the wind pushing through me like I hadn't a white lace dress on and black tights. The only parts that didn't feel a chill was my feet covered in velvet boots.

I started to feel that pitter-patter of raindrops by the time I'd gotten to the back of the Aston Martin. I gazed off into the distance, a graying overcast from one horizon to the next. A shout startled me from my rather languid, surreal state of mind, and my head quickly turned towards the squeal. Coming from the wraparound porch, I could see mum coming to me. Before I could get my foot on the small stairwell leading to the doors she'd taken me in her arms and embraced me tight. I could see daddy behind her at the door, and I could also see the true worry in his eyes as he looked me over.

I could smell the baked chicken on mum, my favourite. I put an arm around her, and she tightened her hug. She let go but for a moment, to glance at my stoic features, and pulled me back within her arms. I smiled, and it was genuine, but I didn't know how long that tiny happiness would last. Between these points, time would etch my mind. Then, and only then, would those nightmares take control again. In one way, I wanted to be rid of them. But, I didn't want to forget about Harry and feared, if relinquishing my fear that I'd forget.

The rain began to fall. Mum took my one bag and had me exchange positions, walking in front of her and into the house. Daddy hugged me after he closed the door. I could hear mum traveling upstairs to put my bag away. Like a zombie, I showed little to no emotion when daddy set me at arms-length, to look at me. He had me by my shoulders. I tried to look him in the eye, but couldn't. I looked to my right and down. I felt a myriad of interior emotions when seeing my father's incredible concern bleed forth. Mixed, all I could think of was what I was, or what I had left behind so many years ago. I was only happy at times nowadays, and my confidence? Lackluster at best. I thought my family prided themselves in how self-reliant I turned out to be, and now, I felt diminished.

"I've been plagued with uneasiness, baby girl," He came in to hug me again. I rested my head where it landed on my father's shoulder. "You don't understand how glad I am that you're home."

***

I don't think anyone really thought I was instantly pleasant. Every other moment I was sullen-faced. Not a literal frown, but apparently sad. I put on a show, a fake show for my aunt and uncle when they arrived. I was back to everyone's favourite Hermione. I talked with them at the dinner table about politics, current ideologies, the general status, but I knew from the corners of my eyes that mum, especially mum, noticed the in-betweens. When others would dig deep into their discussion, I'd slowly slip into my depression. Physically, I'd slump, maybe my lips would fall slightly, or I'd gaze blankly into my plate of chicken and vegetables.

After dinner, aunt Ariel and Paris set off to take care of a dirty nappy. I'd gone to the loo to wash up afterwards. Not necessarily left alone, but alone nonetheless, I walked about cleaning in a daze. My logical senses fought to contradict my mood. A voice in my head continued to shout at how ridiculous I'd gotten, how ridiculous I'd been. Ironically, the same voice I'd come to clutch all those years was the same voice driving me deeper into that dark hole.

I had dishes of half-eaten food ready to be saved and put into the fridge. An oval-shaped container in each hand, I went to turn into the kitchen and had to stop. Just before the entryway, I had heard my name in whispers between mum and dad.

"Should we leave her alone tonight?"

"I think Hermione's quite capable of looking after Hope. I wouldn't say so if I didn't think it were true."

I heard mum sigh. "If she doesn't get better soon, we're going to have to take measures."

"Em," My father's voice slightly lower, I knew he was farther in the kitchen. "She's home. That's all we can really do to help. We can suggest options if it comes to it, but really, Hayleigh? Our daughter doesn't want anything more than her fiance."

"Hayleigh's a psychiatrist, Freddy. She'd help Hermione."

Bringing toxic silence, mum and dad abruptly shut up when I oh-so-casually sauntered into the kitchen between them.

I saw them look at one another in my peripherals.

I was sure they knew I'd overheard as I did take after them and their ways of finding things out well beforehand, be it accidental or not.

Tucking pieces of loosening brunette curls behind my ears, I stood staring at the countertop beside the oven where I put the dishes down. "…Where is the plastic ware? The chicken will dry out."

I made it seem as if I hadn't heard anything, but we all knew that I knew where the plastics were put. I did live here for nearly eighteen years.

"They're in the cupboards on the bottom left, love. Beneath the silverware."

To have it more known, I'd already begun in the direction mum said.

***

Hope had a tendency to use my hair for asylum.

I had him on my shoulder, carrying him while I went to fetch his bottle of formula. He started crying, and I mean full out bawling, the kind of cry that babies gave in shrill screams. I sort of bounced him in my arms to get him occupied, but when I came back into the living area and sat down did he stop. It helped to have the bottle, the security blanket of my cascading curls in his balled fist.

Those big blue eyes gazed up at me from that crazily beautiful, pudgy face. I smiled at him, propped now in my arm as he rested in a pocket. I swore he smiled back at me, and closed his eyes, satisfied with a tiny tug of my tassels and the nipple in his mouth. With a slight incline of the bottle for him, and a slight incline for myself on the sofa, I put my bare feet on an ottoman and watched some mindless game show on television.

The rain hadn't stopped. When did it ever stop was the main question. Maybe I didn't realise the weather when I was with Harry, but the weather certainly became a pattern of storms and greater storms. From daylight to dusk, I don't recall the rain ever coming to halt. I could hear the thunder, but couldn't see any lightning. Windows nearside me, I could see the rain hit the panes of glass and trickle downward at an angle. The wind would pick up, howling, shaking the roof when it did.

Lamps were on, casting an orange glow about the brownish environment. Our family portrait hung over the unlit fireplace, which is where my eyes lingered from the flashing lights of the telly. My father had a professional painter paint our portrait the summer holiday before my fifth year at Hogwarts. I remember myself clearly…completely naive and without a care in the world. Well, compared to what happened next I hadn't a care in the world. Looking at the portrait, I nearly longed for the frivolity of my life then, and to steal away from this long state of sadness.

I glanced at Hope who had gotten my attention, unknowingly, as his eyes were closed. He'd pulled on that bit of hair he held so tightly. The essence of human being, innocent, untainted, a clean-slate of purity… I wished my beloved nephew a better life than I. So sweet… I couldn't see myself that way at all. Not now, not ever. Changes with positive consequences, like my engagement with Harry… I saw the diamond studs twinkle in the lamplight. Changes with negative consequences… Masses, friends, ones I loved gone of existence with a looming fact that the world still had evil even after His demise.

I watched Hope's little arm struggle to hold onto the bottle, but succumbed to his tiredness. His arm dropped limp and his eager suckling slowly lessened. Gradually, I took the bottle and made note of how much he drank. Surprised, the little bugger drank almost the entire formula in a go! I lightly laughed quietly and placed the bottle on the stand beside the sofa.

With just a move, I found his tiny body wiggle. I stopped where I was, kept my eyes on him, only to see his big blue eyes shine on me slightly and his head tilt into the crook of my arm. Adjusting, the hand that didn't hold my hair instantly went for the lace of my dress. I smiled when he clung as tight to me as he did the darkened brunette locks. Looking at the ticking grandfather clock in the corner, I told myself that in an hour I'd put him in the makeshift crib aunt Ariel brought over. She set it in my room, and thought to combine the proximity of my bed. I'd know for sure if and when Hope would wake.

***

So peaceful, I laid Hope down in the crib upstairs. On his back, he was surrounded by all these cute stuffed animals, teddy bears, giraffes, elephants, and miniature pillows to keep him still. A blue themed hue, their little boy, I placed my arms on the side of the crib and grinned as I gazed down at his adorable sleep. I put my chin on the top of my hand flat on the wooden railing and sighed at this incredible miracle. My own maternal instincts came together, and there was our own little boy, so much like Harry, drifted to slumber in his crib by our bed.

I turned after awhile, pivoting half-circle to see my bed made, the brightly pink sheets tautly wrapped and ready, a signature of mum. The offset black-and-pink polka-dotted comforter lay at the end in case I needed it.

I set by foot out of the room, downstairs, taking the baby monitor with me to be safe. I didn't expect to be gone long from Hope's side, but to be cautious I held onto the electronics with the volume on high. My throat parched, I walked with confidence in the darkness to the kitchen. Second-hand, I knew each step, the corners, where the chairs and tables were, the route to the refrigerator. Lightning lit what was pitch black, the white-plastic monitor vibrant on the countertop where I set it. Inside the fridge, I took the apple juice and found a glass. Twisting the top off and pouring, I heard through the tumultuous rainstorm what sounded like scratching on the backdoor.

The wind blowing as hard as it was, and the many shadows being displayed from outside, I knew the tree branches were culprit. Just before the brim, I put the cap on and leaned into the fridge. Door shut, my hand around the glass, I went to drink, head tilting back with the monitor in front of me. I could hear Hope's breaths, soothing, and soft. Flicking the faucet on to rinse the remnants of the juice out, I placed the glass upside down in the sink. Lightning cracked, the window before me lighting the room immensely. I jumped, jostled, and into a loud rumble above the rooftop.

I heard Hope waken with a cry and set upstairs.

Halfway up, though, he shushed.

It wasn't like he calmed down.

He was crying, and then nothing.

A familiar chill tingled along my spine, and before I could react I heard a malicious male voice on the baby monitor.

"He's such a pretty baby boy, isn't he, Hermione?"

Less than seconds, my feet were up the stairs, two, three, four at a time.

My wand was out and prepared at my side.

A lullaby by the same sinister voice echoed off the walls of the upstairs hallway, coming from the monitor I clutched in my other hand.

"Lullaby and goodnight… With lilies of white and roses all red…to pillow your head…"

The hallway seemed to grow the more I ran.

I didn't remember it being this long.

My breath in huffs, I could hear my heartbeat pound straight from my chest.

"…May you wake when the day chases darkness away… Slumber gently and deep in the dreamland of sleep."

My eyes afire, I was at my room. Inside the door, I glanced toward the crib, my bed, the window, the corners, closets, anywhere and everywhere to find…

Nothing.

I rushed to Hope to see him still on his back, eyes closed, his little ribcage rising and falling.

For a moment, I thought it was all in my head…

Yes, all in my head… Harry, Death Eaters, Dark Marks, society, anger, resentment, frustration, the unknown all getting to me… That was it, it had to be…

Logical-Hermione saw Hope undisturbed, and I laughed, audibly, at myself for turning into a bipolar maniac, a schizophrenic to think that I had heard and imagined these sounds, the images. The weather, the blackness… I laughed again, hearing another sharp crack of lightning. The layers of emotion from the weeks of loneliness, of deep contemplation, readings… It was all against me. Such a ropey prat I've become.

I let my heart rate drop, resting whilst standing aside the crib a minute, and then went over to flick the light of a lamp on.

I sighed, drew a breath, exhaled and focused on settling.

I fetched my favourite literature, a page-folded, slightly torn and worn, late edition of Hogwarts: A History and plopped down on my mattress.

A page turned, something still didn't feel…quite right…

Like…something or someone was in the room with me…

Watching me…

I looked around, put the book down on the bed and walked to the opened door.

I peered into the hallway, down the hallway. I could see the starting of the stair's banister and saw nothing.

Still not comfortable, with my hands on the doorframe, I peeked around my room again and back out into the hall.

I shook my head, trying to contain the creeping fear from thin air, I laughed once more. I scolded myself for being so…insecure, for days, weeks now. I laughed again, plopping back on the bed and grabbed Hogwarts: A History. I fidgeted against the pillow at my backside.

Something black poked within the corners of farthest visage, and lost in finding esteem I didn't quite make out what I saw at first…but, quickly fled the mattress and to the crib when I did see the hideous beast of nightmare. My heart stopped. My breathing heightened. The tip of my wand pointed in the direction of my opened door. Silvery-metallic, the mask of a Death Eater gradually showed itself from lack of light. Its robes of charcoal weren't apparent until the light from my lamp shone the contrast from the carpet, simply seeing a floating skull.

He had his hands up, but that wasn't going to stop me.

Alone, I would have thrown a curse, but at my right slept an innocent Hope.

"What do you want?!" I demanded, challenging the Death Eater to step once more with a thrust of my wand. He halted just inside my bedroom. "I swear, another step and I won't stop to think about killing you!"

"I don't think you could do it."

"What?"

"I don't think you could kill me," I recognised the voice, the voice from the lullaby. "In fact, I don't think you would kill me."

"Try me!"

"Think about the child, Hermione," The Death Eater seemed happy, having the upper hand. "His safety should come first, right?"

Trapped.

No way to contact anyone, the Ministry, friends, support…all I could think about was Hope.

"Leave before my friends from the Ministry show up!" I bluffed him.

He merely jested mockingly, "How queer. I've staked your house and…I've seen that you are, in fact, lonesome!"

"Get out of here!"

My voice rising with each demand, I finally woke Hope up.

He started to cry.

My eyes wanted to check Hope, that maternal instinct to go to him, but my head swished back when I saw the Death Eater move.

"You look…ravishing, Granger…terrified, yet so beautiful…"

"I'm telling you!" The Death Eater began to reach for something, but stopped. I threatened again, "No regrets! One false move and you're history!"

"Don't you want to see the very hand that will revel in killing your precious fiance?"

He reached for his mask, but he was given no time. The second he twitched to unveil, I shouted, "Diffindo Totalas!"

What sounded like several hundred scissors struck the instant quietness. Deep cuts accrued in the wall of my parent's hallway, on the opposite side from where I was, pointing now through clearing, purplish-black smoke. I heard the maddening laughter of a thousand men reverberating downstairs. The very house shook within a thunderous roar, and it felt like the roof would suddenly crash upon us.

I reached for the wailing Hope and cradled him in my arms. My mind frayed and wrought with turmoil, I should have done a lot of things I didn't in the following moments. I ran down the stairs, fleeing, needing to escape the house. Lightning lit up the living space I bounded through, and took a turn and ended up face-to-face with a mask. I had my hands around Hope, walking backwards as the Death Eater skipped at my speed merrily.

"He's going to die… He's going to die!"

I should have cried a while ago, my emotions sucked dry, my mind and heart unequivocally encased in getting Hope somewhere safe.

I turned and ran for a side-room, a room that connected to the other side of the dining area which connected to the kitchen. I made my way to the table, only to be accosted by billowing smoke snaking itself around me and having me cough. It took form, a Death Eater, his mask inches away from my face. It sickeningly spoke rough, "I'm going to have a fine time watching the life fade from his eyes!"

"Expulso!" A fiery burst of force shot from my wand, but not before the closing-in Death Eater vanished into more thick smoke. The reddish orb hit the dining table, and the wall beyond. Nothing happened at first…to have the table and its chairs fly upward, shatter and explode into mulch. The wall, the wallpaper incinerating, fell to flames. The chandelier over the table crashed down, my feet heading in the opposite direction as I heard the individual crystals break into millions of pieces.

Hope screamed with every boom, every rattle.

I attempted to shush him, "Shh Shhing" during the ruckus, getting to the backdoor corridor for another pillar of smoke take form in front of me.

Unmasked, the person, beneath the hood, in those robes, snarling a smirk gazed excitedly with shadowed eyes I knew at once. Tall, blonde hair, put him in a Slytherin tie, Slytherin Quidditch wear and anyone could see him walking the Hogwarts halls and in with the crowds. No one would expect…

"Xavier!"

"If I couldn't have you…," He briskly walked forward, and I took steps back. He threw his finger at me angrily. "He won't have you!"

He halted, his lips curving, his dimples not matching the seeping hatred leaking off his forked tongue, "…The Dark Lord will reward me most pleasantly for the murder of your beloved Harry Potter…"

"Sectumsempra! Sectumsempra! SECTUMSEMPRA!"

As if in slow motion, I could see the knife-like blue slashes in the air. Xavier, laughing with intent, jumped backwards, fell and shot off towards the backdoor. The door withdrew from its hinges on contact, the deathly black smoke slipping in-between the cracks until the entire frame and all shook and disintegrated, leaving nothing but the howling winds and rain blowing in behind.

I ran a step to the nearby telephone, dialed the first number that came to mind, and heard the sluggish voice at first on the other end.

"…Mn, Hello?"

"Ginny!" I was in fright, the emotion not withstanding through my breathless voice.

"…Hermione?" She understood my plight without discussion. "Hermione! What's wrong?!"

"Please! Come!" I started to cry, gazing out into the ripping storm, and flicking to any other noise inside my parent's house. I couldn't make heads to tails what was normal, especially now through blurs.

"Where are you?!"

"I'm at mum's, dad's, just please get over here quickly! Death Eaters!…"

I could feel the lightning jolt and the rumbling thunder after by the soles of my feet.

Hope continued to fight against me, screaming.

I heard nothing on the other end, and thought the power went out.

Tears staining my cheeks, I didn't know what to do but to run the other way. I dropped the phone, the plastic breaking on the floor, and ran the fastest I could get my legs going toward the front door. I went to grab the door handle and heard a knock, and a very loud knock at that. I hesitated, clutched a struggling Hope to my chest and took a step back. All I could see in my mind was Xavier's wicked smile behind the door, playing cat and mouse.

"Hermione!"

I blinked, stopping my backtrack.

I could see and hear the person behind the door try and open it, jiggling the handle hectically.

The person's banging fists boomed in the chaotic stillness.

"Hermione, open up! It's Gin! Open up!!"

Hurrying those few feet, I unlatched the lock and Gin pushed the door away, a crimson bathrobe with an embroidered "W" tossing in the wind behind her wrought form. She saw me, scared, confusion, true terror bottled behind wide eyes. I flew to her, fading into her embrace and cried much like Hope into her shoulder.

***

Hermione lay across Cho with her head in her lap. Upstairs in Hermione's bedroom, any other soul would have thought this might have been a girl's night, add a sleeping infant. Serene, one wouldn't think that nearly an hour ago portions of the house were ablaze, the dining and parts of the living quarter demolished, and the backside blown away. Everything had been mended by an Auror support team, hastily arriving after Ginevra's quick response to the Ministry.

Like the Muggle police, the home of Hermione's parents was quarantined for investigation. No yellow tape and flashing red-and-blue lights, a group of a half dozen blokes in white cloaks stationed the vicinity with shielding and trick charms. Instruments in Auror possession would sound off immediately and notify those hidden in the home and on the street if any Death Eater was ballsy enough to breech the hidden boundary lines.

"Any news on if they found the Death Eaters?" Cho asked when Ginevra entered the bedroom. Cho, sprawled horizontal on Hermione's bed mimicked the brunette's exhausted form against her.

Ginevra wiped her forward of water, for it still rained, her hair and the shoulders of her robe wet. She leaned forward, letting her ruined Weasley-red fall, and held her wand to the thick strands. She whispered, "Spongify," before answering with, "No, nothing, and it's a shame, too. If they had the knuts to come back I'd have loved to take my wand to them. Show them how to fear a ginger when they fuck with my girl."

Ginevra swished her hair from side-to-side and threw it all back, good as new after meticulously withdrawing the rainwater from her curtains. "I didn't recognise the squad leader, but because they're so thinned across the world now, odds are one or two could quite possibly slip through the cracks. Or, so was told."

"How reassuring," Cho retorted, stroking Hermione's head which lay on her chest.

"Kingsley's against the wall to please everyone, so what's there to expect? The Auror populous hasn't surged in three years, and now they seem to be fighting worldwide problems with all these splinter groups scattered."

"That's true," Cho sighed in exasperation and glanced at the snoozing Hermione beside her. "Politics."

Ginevra sat on the edge by Cho and watched each breath Hermione inhaled and exhaled. "Kingsley has made it known how every one of us is overseen by an individual Auror. Guess Hermione's decided to have a coffee break. What luck."

Cho lightly chuckled. "Touche."

"How is she?" Ginevra made a nodding motion towards Hermione.

"Besides the obvious," Cho gestured to a pile of tissues atop the side table. "She stopped crying about a half hour after you left and the Aurors came to investigate. She swore up and down that they were after Harry, and I kept telling her Harry's in the safest place in the entire world right now. He's locked in with the Minister himself! The security hasn't let slip a photo for the Prophet, and you know you're doing your job if you can keep that rubbish out."

Ginevra hopped across the mattress, arms out at Hermione. "Switch places," she wiggled her fingers, anxiously wanting the Sleeping Beauty.

Cho pried Hermione's arm away and Ginny eased into the warmed spot which Cho lay in. By the move, Hermione listlessly blinked to awareness, but only to flash a dazed look and snuggle into the folds of Ginevra's fleece wear. Gently, Ginny sifted her fingers through Hermione's dangling locks, ending with a rub down the back of her white lace dress. The tight-clad knee of Hermione nudged Ginny's outstretched leg, making Gin's lips upturn in smile.

"What of her parents?" asked Cho, standing at the crib where she had checked on Hope after their exchange. She pivoted around to face the bed, an elbow on the crib's rail and a very noticeable wand sticking from her trouser pocket. "They should have been back by now. I was just waiting for them to come on in and see me magically here. Not saying I would be thrown out, but questions would have come up about why."

"The squad leader told me she put a few of her team to find them en route and pace them. She said an idea was to let air out of their tire, mess with their engine, something to preoccupy until they had taken any evidence. Do a bit of tweaking and not have to obliviate, ingenious really."

"That's a relief," Cho watched as Gin put her hand on Hermione's pale cheek. Her eyes flicked back to Gin's when Gin's landed back upon hers. "And Harry? Do you think he'll be told what has happened?"

Gin let out a little huff, her chest rising and falling quickly, and sought Hermione's face hiding in her bosom. "…I told the Aurors I spoke with tonight how much he needed to know. They understand the predicament and how ghastly this scenario could have gone. She could have easily been…"

Ginevra's voice strayed from the norm, dipping low, but she shook out of it. Her eyes went from Hermione, draped about her, and back to Cho's curious eyes. "Yes, I'm certain Harry will know the moment the Aurors are back at the Ministry."

{Inspirations for the Chapter: Blood by Audiomachine (played tons on loop, a beautiful parallel to Hermione's current psyche), ASAP by Two Steps from Hell, and anything imaginatively bone-chilling including the Halloween theme and other pieces of music mentioned before}

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