The Lost Horcrux

The Secret Garden

Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasleys and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history.

***

Hermione was shivering, despite the sunny weather beating down on her. She'd picked out another pretty sundress at Sally's prompting. She felt rather alien in it. She hadn't worn anything like this in years. It was a bit revealing, lower cut than she was used to. But this was liberating in itself. It was feminine, she felt womanly in the dress.

And she hadn't felt that in a while.

But still she was shaking. There was no breeze. The air was totally still. It would be quite stifling later when the sun was fully up. She would be thankful for the thin cotton of the dress then. She felt the soft hem dance and tickle playfully at her thighs. She had too much leg on show and the little white flats Sally had slipped onto her feet her were dainty, but allowed for far too much skin. Besides, the remnants of her most recent bruises were still there, poking out like angry ink splodges against her pale, milky flesh.

What would Harry think when he saw her made up like this?

Hussy? Whore? Sympathy wench? She hadn't seen him in years and his personality was altered. Everyone said so. She felt her stomach tighten as she walked slowly along the gravel path. She was too much on display. He might think she was throwing herself at him on this first, most auspicious of meetings. She wasn't entirely opposed to that idea, having built up this notion of him in her brain that was already threatening to make him into something of an addiction. But Neville's warning about Harry not liking to be touched rang loudly in her ears. She had to be mindful of that.

Sally led Hermione out of the tree-lined avenue of the North Causeway and into a well-manicured garden of techicolour. Flowers and bushes were artfully arranged along a path of precisely-trimmed lawn, and a little stream flowed here and there all through it, darting beneath tiny arches and bridges with a soft rushing sound. It was a really lovely little ramble. Hermione was very bitter that she wasn't able to manage it on her own feet, having to be content with being hovered around everywhere by her personal elf, at least until her legs were strong enough to support her weight again.

Hermione just hoped she'd have enough strength to hold back from launching herself at Harry as soon as she saw him in a few minutes time.

Then they came to a gentle stop. Off to one side of the garden was a pretty sort of wilderness. It was a contained space, with climbing vines and a canopy of dense leaves over one side. Hermione could hear more water splashing inside.

Sally let go of her hand and nodded her head for Hermione to enter. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Yous go in on your own now, Lady Hermione. Master Harry be inside for you ... best not to keep him waiting ..."

Hermione took a huge breath, curled her fingers deeply into the red silk shawl in her hands, then cautiously limped forwards.

It was really quite pretty inside. It was wider than it looked. There was a little stone path lined with pebbles that led around the space, which was half in shadow from the leafy canopy overhead. Small flowerbeds were blooming in each corner and there was a cute circular fountain at the dead centre made from gleaming white marble. A rearing hippogriff rose from the middle of it and water was spouting from its open beak. There were four stone benches curling around the fountain ... and a lone figure sat on the farthest one, almost completely obscured by the shade.

Hermione's breath caught sharply in her lungs at this first sight of Harry, alive, breathing, living not twelve feet from where Hermione was standing, frozen in place by the very impossible-ness of the vision. He was wearing a long, dark emerald robe with a deep hood that totally covered his head and face, but she knew unquestionably that it was Harry, as though his very presence had its own vibration. She fought hard to blink back tears. She didn't want to cry like a weak little girl ... but just the sight of him sitting there was enough to shatter her very world.