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.

…Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end - Luna Lovegood

***

Chapter Sixty-Eight - Awaken

***

Something tickled at my nose, and instantly I woke, staring at the blinding light of the sun. The intense rays had me squint. Without obstruction, the air felt warm, and what tickled me I gathered was the cool breeze I now felt along my arms. I remember sitting up, looking around and noticing I was in a field, upon a hill, with one beautifully vibrant tree of the lushest green close by. The sunlight would ever-so-gently pass through the leaves, creating the different hues, from the most lucent of yellow-greens to the darkest of emerald.

I remember lifting from the perfect lawn, of flowers here and there, their beauty nearly surpassing that of the tree. I looked at myself, and I noticed I was in this…unusual clothing, like a uniform, crimson-and-gold tie and all. The tie blew with the breeze, the white-collared shirtsleeves rolled up to my elbows and a black skirt and tights. I hadn't a clue why I was in this, or where I was for that matter. At one time I was lying in bed-that I knew-but now…

I must be dreaming, I told myself. This must be all but a dream.

As I peered around at my surroundings, standing up to get a better view of the horizon, the hilly fields going on and on forever, noting how serene the environs were, I heard a crunch from behind me. I shot around, turning to see someone step from behind the tree. He wore robes, which I found odd, of white fitted to his form with a bit of a flared descent from his knees, black trousers to boots at the ground. He didn't smile at me, remaining cautious as I was, and for some reason I felt…

I felt as if I knew this person, albeit in a different light. A thin man of sallow skin, he looked like a bat, hooked nose, and better, I thought, he would be in black. Actually, the more I saw of him, stepping further from the tree, I thought I'd seen him in black…so many years ago. But, none of it made sense. Nothing at all. I knew not of this man, having never seen him!

"…By your look you've no idea who I am."

"Should I…?" I felt a longing to say something more, something intimate-from friend to a friend-and the more I quizzically stared, furrowing my brow, did I yearn to calculate those feelings. "Where am I?"

"The question should be: who are you?"

"I'm Jane."

The man laughed under his breath, and shook his head. "…Draco did learn a thing or two from me after all."

"Draco…?" I suddenly began to get agitated, in the dark. I grew furious, demanding, "Tell me what is going on! Why am I here?!"

"Miss Granger."

A thump, as I felt, heard my own heart beat, struck my body.

My head began to hurt, and my hand fled to my forehead.

"Miss Hermione Granger."

The thump within me echoed, as if the pressure would have me erupt, literally rupturing from the inside-out.

I held my head in my hands, memories I tried to see-grasped to see-swimming in my head. I didn't recognize anything, but recognized everything. I saw things I didn't wish to see, things I knew I had, things I knew I'd seen before but couldn't remember. The more these memories deluged my senses, the more I crumbled, finally falling to the grassy bottom where I screamed out, "Stop it! Please! You're hurting me!"

"I'm not hurting you, Miss Granger-you're waking up."

I gazed from my threshold of pain, reddened, puffy eyes creeping from their hiding spots behind my palms and saw him through tears, "…I-I don't understand!"

He had approached me, the man I knew-or had known-the memories of him now reaching me in the washed out flood. I could almost say his name-I could almost say my own-but my mind, my brain wanted me to shutdown, as if needed to shut those advances down like a defense mechanism.

"Take my hand, Miss Granger."

"Who-Who are you…?"

His dark eyes peered down at my crumpled state, his white sleeve and pale hand out to me. His palm was open, his fingers just slightly apart. "…Severus Snape."

A tear trickled down my face, dripped from my cheek, down along my nose.

"I'm here for you," His words felt incredibly warm outside his stale demeanor, his abnormally erected stance. "Now-take my hand. We haven't time for tea. You will come to understand if you take the leap and follow me."

"'Hermione'…," I breathed in a huff, as if I no breath left. I looked down at his feet, at the vibrantly green grass dazzling in the pure light, and then back up at him.

"Yes," He nodded. "Take my hand."

I reached up and instantly those swirls of colour, the vivid blues, the greens, and the beautiful tree splotched together. Swirls were made of them, and I could feel myself in freefall. I held onto Snape's hand as if my last protector, with strength, and caught his fitted robe in my other hand. The cloth I gathered paid him no mind, Snape looking off in the distance.

We dropped into the dead of night, with the horizon lit in the background, beyond hills, beyond a black lake, a castle. We pay audience to a man in silver robes, a white beard of length, and a man-Snape-in black pleading on his knees.

"The prophecy did not refer to a woman-it spoke of a boy born at the end of July!"

"Yes, but He thinks it's her son! He intends to hunt them down now-to kill them! Hide her! Hide them all! I beg you!"

"What will you give me in exchange, Severus?"

"…Anything…"

…Thick, white smoke envelopes the scene

"…Dumbledore…Albus Dumbledore…" stated Hermione softly.

They were in Dumbledore's office, rain stinging the coloured window panes behind the elder.

"You said! You said you would keep her safe!"

The tears stream down the face of Severus, the pain emanating from the wrinkles of his face, the sheer torment wrought within his tightened features.

"Lily and James put their faith in the wrong person, Severus! Rather like you! The boy survives-"

"He doesn't need protection! The Dark Lord is gone!"

"The Dark Lord will return! When He does, the boy will be in incredible danger-he has her eyes! If you truly loved her…"

"…So, when the time comes…the boy must die?"

"Yes… Yes, he must die…"

"You've kept him alive so he can die at the proper moment… You've been raising him like a pig for slaughter!"

"Don't tell me now that you've grown to care for the boy…"

Snape chants, giving a swish from his wand, "Expecto Patronum!"

What he produces is the most radiant, most brightly translucent figure of a sparkling, bluish-white doe. Dumbledore looks baffled, turning quickly to Snape. Snape's eyes never leave the prancing doe, his image, his faith until it leaves through the coloured-pane window and into the night.

…Thick, white smoke envelopes the scene…

Hermione and Snape stand together in the pouring rain. She notes how the rain doesn't fall on them, not a drop wetting her uniform as she looks up at the torrential downpour from a suffocating black sky. In front of them lay an adolescent, not yet a man, but not a child, across a grey stone tomb.

He's alone underneath the shadow of a lightless manor Hermione had never seen before. The graveyard she stood in adjacent to the manor's plot, behind cold stone statues of gargoyles, cold iron gates. Snape lets her go, relieving his hand from hers as he could feel her gathering interest, her personality. Hermione stepped forward, keeping her cinnamon eyes upon the boy lay sobbing in the rain.

The boy she knew… Draco Malfoy, curled atop the lonesome burial.

She felt sympathy, wanting to at least console him…only to see her hand go through him.

Her eyes go to the headstone…

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

13 October 1954 - 4 May 1998

In his hand a letter, the ink smearing from the rain droplets.

Hermione could only make out the first part, Draco's hand having blotted the rest…

Dearest Draco,

There will come a time when you must preserve what we fought against. Seek McGonagall. The vial I left contains my memories. Learn from them and gr-

A hand is placed upon Hermione's shoulder, and when she looks up to see Snape overhead…

…Thick, white smoke envelopes the scene…

Hermione and Snape now stand in a spacious room, gadgets and other bits and bobs whirling and spinning around them. Lines are attached to herself on a bed connecting to various coloured numbers ticking every second. Clear tubes of oxygen appear to be in her nose, and Hermione remembers…with Harry on her side, and…

Draco on the other.

"…Bellatrix Lestrange had a daughter, Potter."

Harry, his hand stroking Hermione's face as she slept, gazes continuously at the projection of her heart on the monitor.

He listens without so much of a look at Draco, his attention squarely on his beloved.

"Have you heard of Sarilda Lestrange?"

"No," Harry answered, glancing at Draco briefly. His eyes went back to the monitor, and to Hermione. "How worried should I be?"

"To be honest, I haven't a clue. We've only just caught wind of her existence after our raid in Moscow. The DNA she left behind-we couldn't believe it! They seemed to be hiding her; though, by the time we figured out who she was she went quiet. She's unlike the brood she follows."

Harry's eyes flicked to Malfoy.

"Wonderful," said Harry, emphasizing dense sarcasm. His fingers grazed Hermione's cheek, her sleeping form tilted towards him, her face at him.

"She lay with Tom."

Harry's sight went straight to Draco. "You don't mean…?"

"Sarilda is a product of Bellatrix and Riddle."

"How can-"

"Voldemort was human-at one time. Dumbledore would have surely given us time, and the tools he's given me until now. Dumbledore never knew-no one ever knew-with his reach of power, I'm sure even Tom and Bellatrix kept her in whispers. He may have even threatened her life-lives. There are only hypotheses, no facts. To say it startled us… We're on our own; but, we're not alone. He's given us hope, Potter."

Harry's eyes went from Hermione, and then back to Draco.

Draco knew his terrible concern before he asked the question, expressing, "She'll be in no danger. You have my word."

"What can I do?"

"We've no idea where she is. We've feelers out as we speak on any leads, anything at all. Whenever she does poke her head from the ground there will be a grand orgy on their side, and a shortening of nails from ours."

Harry, his sight returning to Hermione, resumed his caress by hand, leaning forward to join his digits with a kiss of her cheek. "I trust you, Draco," the words falling off his tongue were genuine.

"I'll be contacting the Weasley."

Harry's eyes shot back at Draco. "Why? Why Ginny? She's nothing to do with this. This is between us, the Order, and Kingsley."

Draco, his hand out to Harry to settle him, states plainly, "She is a great asset… Use her love, Harry, for your benefit. She will protect Hermione-"

"I can't do that!" Harry's voice utters at a higher octave above whisper. "I can't use Ginny like that-it's not fair-it won't be fair to her!"

"Harry-"

"She cares too much about Hermione! I'm already sacrificing-"

"Use it, Harry-you know she won't allow Hermione to die."

…Thick, white smoke envelopes them…

Hermione finds herself inside the mirrored corridors so ripe in her dreams. Now, though, she stands with Snape behind her, his hand on hers. He leaves her, again, when he can feel her waking. She turns, to say, "I've been here… I've been here before-many times."

"Look again, Hermione. Open your eyes. See what is in front of you for its truth. Learn…"

She glances at her side, at herself-at Hermione, and at the other side, at herself, and again at Hermione, her reflection, her being, her soul.

The mirrors crack, having her jump, having her withdraw back with Snape. He puts a hand on her shoulder to stow her fear, to keep her focus on the hall they stand in. The mirrors fall to show a ravaged hallway, a carpeted floor with broken picture frames fallen from hooks upon the walls.

She goes closer, to see a picture of…

A smiling family photo of Lily and James Potter with baby Harry-she knew them from pictures Harry had shown her so many times before.

She turned to ask, in desperate struggle to remain calm, shaky, "We're in-?"

Snape nods, lifting his hand to have her continue on.

"I don't want to-I don't want to go further! I want to go back! I want to return home!"

"Go-Hermione! Go! Before it is too late!"

Hermione hears a scream, sees the green flash and by her instinct flees. She bounds inside, stepping on mulch of once was wooden panels and beams, hoping in her heart, the feeling in the pit of her stomach, that she isn't too late. She sees, a trembling hand to her mouth, the dark red curls of Lily Potter blending with a fresh pool of blood surrounding her motionless form. She sees Lily's cold jade-green eyes, so much like Harry's, staring at nothing. She breaks, her emotions pushed from their edge.

She weeps, to see Snape press against the wall as he, his past self, steps into the room. His very being breaks, falling against the wall in tears, seeing his lifeless heart. He moves to her slowly, reeling in his wails, Snape so different than that she knew until the end-full of emotion, full of love. He crumples to the floor and stays with Lily, holding her empty shell in his arms as his saline-wet lips kiss her chilled forehead.

Hermione sees Lily-sees her, herself, Hermione, Lily having changed to that of her reflection, and Snape…

…Holding her, crying for her, giving her everything he has left…

He was Harry.

He had turned into Harry.

They were gone from the Potter's cottage in Godric's Hollow.

They were beneath a blanket of rain, and as Harry looks up from the dead corpse of Hermione in his arms did he see a wand pointed at him.

…Voldemort, his white skin inching out from his black robe sleeve reaches down towards Harry with a smirk so evil, his pointed teeth and tongue lashing with glee…

A green light peaks at the tip of his wand…

…And, Harry lay dead, his arms still wrapped around his perished lover.

Hermione's hands, her fingers became claw-like as she rakes her nails across her face. She felt torment boiling in her blood; that tremble in her hands now within the very bones of her body. She turned to Snape, his remorseful eyes leaving the corpses of her and Harry. A crack of lightning makes his shallow features haunting in the frozen atmosphere.

She cries out, "Why?! Why are you showing me this?!"

…Thick, white smoke envelopes them…

"Sarilda Lestrange murdered Harry."

"What can I do Professor-what can I do?!"

"You are the most powerful and most ingenious witch, Hermione-your power, however, lay in your giving heart. You must listen to what you've heard-remember what you've seen. You must wake up, and I will show you the way."

"Show me the way…?"

"To the end."

"The end-Harry-"

"Voldemort will return."

"Voldemort is dead!" she spits in disdain, denial.

"Voldemort is more than what you witnessed in flesh. He is much more."

"I don't understand!"

"Will you choose to continue to dream?"

Hermione shook her head.

"You will wake up?"

"Yes-please-just stop!"

Her head felt on the verge of exploding.

"It is time, Miss Granger."

She watched him through tears, having witnessed all those memories, and those in her head, again-reliving the happiness overshadowed by the hatred, and the deaths.

"Why do you live?"

"Because I have something worth living for!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Then, WAKE UP!"

I shot from sleep in an instant between a sharp strike of lightning and its brother, rolling thunder. The lightning lit the room I lay in, shifting from the mattress I now sat upon. I looked around at my environment, the silent television on the wall, the homely pictures hanging about, the dresser drawer hinges and closet door knobs. I examined my bed, my fingers, the sense of touch illuminating as if I hadn't touched anything before this first contact. I looked at myself, the clothes I wore. No tie, no white-collared shirt, and no skirt-no Hogwarts uniform to be seen.

I looked over at where Ginny was in her own bed, and over across her and into the moonlight drifting in. I saw a flash of light, and the thunderstorm stopped. I saw the flash again, communication, telling me to get up. I wanted to get up, the feeling hitting me before the thought could process, and I was on my bare feet.

I took hold of a pair of jeans and slid them on one leg at a time, having only knickers to sleep in. Something tugged at me to prepare for what was to come. I grabbed some trainers and socks from a drawer, that feeling urging me to press closer, and when I did-at the window now-I saw it: a bluish-white light moving in-and-out of the trees.

"I'm sorry, Gin…," I said on the way, giving the sleeping ginger a kiss on her forehead. Quietly I tiptoed out and silently opened, and then closed behind the door. I gave a deep breath, readying myself for the unknown in which lie ahead and started my trek down the stairwell.

***

"Lights! Did you see that light, Aedirwen?!"

"What light?" Aedirwen looked behind her, peering into the darkness.

"There in the distance-what is that?" Ron had bent at the waist in order to try and get a better look, his curiosity peaking as well as his responsibility in safety. "It looks like…"

"Ron don't! It may be a-!" the Elf outreached her hand to grab him, but Ronald had already started his sprint.

He faded into mists as his feet picked up in pace, traveling at inhuman speeds to catch what he thought were-

Death Eaters, he thought while he ran, dodging trees and going further into that created forest. The more he ran, the more he found himself in the thick of trees, the forest growing before him. It's been far too long! You're not getting her-not on my watch, you fucking arseholes!

Aedirwen heard something in the winds, something pressing her to move out-something she desperately fought against. She looked back at the lightless window where Hermione lay, and then back in the direction of where Ronald fled. The mists began to dissipate, and that's when her worry set in.

The lights she had seen were far in number than Ronald, and she knew not of her kin who saw them. She tried listening to the wind, but found nothing to cling onto hope for backup. The wind blew at her back as she peered, again, into the vast forest. She'd begun to care for Ronald as a friend, having chatted about his family and hers, how they both expressed their hopes and dreams for the future, and what they wished they'd done in the past. Being partnered by Fate, he had grown on her and she couldn't let him defend himself on his own.

Another strong wind hit her, and then she was off, leaping into the trees and in the direction of the thinly veiled, disappearing fog.

***

I stood at the curb of the street a moment in earnest to catch the light again and saw the blue tint streak through the trees. I thought I could make out what it was from here, but followed the light anyways. The light, I felt in my heart, was helping me. Stepping beyond the street and into the beginnings of the forest, I followed it, walking at a fast pace at first, and then when the light knew I was in chase, in an all-out run.

It never stopped, darting in-and-out, around trees.

After a while I wondered if I could find my way back, having neither the stars nor sign to guide me back. I trusted the light, if only briefly stopping, that part of my logical sense telling me in whisper how crazy I'd become-following a light that could be anything. But, something greater than reality, spiritually led me down a hill, across a trickling brook and into a clearing.

At the clearing I stopped, holding onto a tree as I saw in the distance the light halt in the centre.

The light, as my eyes affixed to it, gave shape as it turned to see me as if to tell me:

We've arrived.

I stepped closer, the leaves crunching at my feet.

Lessening the distance, I could see the shape-a doe, frolicking around something I saw lying on the ground.

When I had gotten close enough, close enough to touch-as I tried to, a hand out, fingers just missing the doe's head to pet it-the doe leaped off and into the forest…

…Only this time, the light vanished completely.

I was left alone, a cloudless pitch sky and darkness my surrounding.

I couldn't see where the darkness ended and the trees began anymore.

I could hear nothing but me, my breaths, my heart beat, and I could neither find my other four senses.

It was if I was at the point at the beginning of a book, waiting to read the first word, to finish the first page.

I bent down, knelt to the grass to gather a better look at the yellowish something at my feet. At first glance I noticed my wand having been placed aside parchment. I looked around before retrieving it, noting the breadcrumb trail that led me here and the warm wind of which blew across my cheek. My knees at the ground, I carefully slid my wand into my pocket. I squinted to see that something before I touched it, the yellowed paper, when I noticed the words:

THE DAILY PROPHET

The headline:

A CRY FOR HELP

I couldn't comprehend heads nor tails of it.

What now? Read the contents?

The headline vanished for a new one, having me jump back en route to retrieve it:

HERMIONE

…Is it speaking to me?

And another:

PICK UP THE PAPER

…Is it imploring me-can a newspaper beseech someone?

To another:

PLEASE

My mind cluttered, I was left puzzled, my features imitating my befuddlement with an upturned brow.

I reached out ever-so-slowly, and as my fingers took the newspaper up by its edge did I find myself falling, a feeling of a hook behind my navel pulling me in and downward.

I screamed, but no one heard me.

The Daily Prophet had swallowed me whole.

***

{Author's Note: Firstly, I'd like to say that Severus Snape is very close to being my favorite character of the series, the number one spot taken by Hermione. And, his decisions and actions, his words, portrayed during his memories where his character is shown new dimensions to the audience is what tips the scale over others. The obvious was he wasn't a Death Eater; but, what wasn't as obvious was the truth in his love for Lily and the unsurpassed way he taught, or dare I say, loved like his own, her son.

This may be controversial in a way, but I see Harry more like Severus than I do his father. Not to say Harry's exterior isn't similar. Of course it is; but, his interior, and his actions mimic those of Severus. Maybe not so directly blatant in JK's work, but I wanted to emphasize that parallel in mine. The sacrifice he gives spans far from mortal touch. He lessens his own infatuation to allow her choices to grow, even if in the dark corner he truly loves Lily.

The bond isn't closed, however, as I see Severus and Lily's connection similar to HHr-or maybe identical in ways-even in JK's work. Run a comparison to how he interacted with Lily, or even to say how he interacted with her without her knowledge. I find the actions of James Potter more the lines of Ronald; and with that, I can say this could be arguable as to a link for RHr. I think that makes sense. Not to say Harry doesn't act up; he does, but he's far more mature and he knows himself by the end of the book. Ronald, if he does find himself, is hard pressed to find himself by author's hand rather than a gradual fleshing out throughout the books, which is why I find his character seeking redemption within every niche of his life.

Of course, this is an opinion, and is reflective when I chose to swap Severus with Harry holding Lily transforming into Hermione.

Secondly, as much as I wanted Severus to be warmer, or even happy, with Hermione, as he's taken the role as her guardian angel, I just couldn't. His hardened personality is what drove the character, and what drove his character into setting Harry for the final confrontation. I couldn't see Severus, even on the "other side," be anything more than "himself". He tells Hermione her choices, and he's precise, telling it like it is in as few words as possible, affectively.

And yes, before anyone says to me what JK said about Voldemort and children, realize this fiction (as well as other fiction on here) a thought on what could have happened. Even the most evil of persons crave biological needs. To say Voldemort never ate or drank, too… The chapter underwent numerous reads to make sure I was giving you, the reader, enough information to draw your own conclusions.}

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