CHAPTER TWO
Hermione's POV:
I look down at the letter in my hand, for what feels like the hundredth time, filled with disbelief. The first two lines are classic Bella-babbling that warmed my heart to no end, but after that... "Before you do come, though, there are a few things you should probably know," I mumble out loud, running a single hand through my hair, regretting it when my fingers get tangled in the curls. "A vampire. My sister is mated to a vampire. And her best sort-of human friend turns into a bloody wolf the size of a horse!"
Groaning aloud, I put down the letter, and move into the bathroom to splash my face with water. A glance up at the mirror tells me I look about as good as I feel- drawn, strung-out, my out-of-control hair even more out-of-control then usual, with a nice extra layer of grease, skin several shades paler then normal with purple rings under my eyes that could rival Bella's vampire.
Vampire... it's a modern word in a world where vampires are romanticized, and loved. In the early times they were considered demons. In India they were called Vetalas, those who inhabit corpses and drink blood. In Africa the Asanbosam and the Adze who hunts children. They knew to fear them then. They knew of dark things that drank blood and the people were wise and feared them.
Smart of them. I wish one of the books I'd sent Bella about the amazing magical creatures had included some of the not-so amazing, very, extremely dangerous creatures as well- such as, oh I don't know, vampires? I didn't have a problem with the ones who abstained from the murder of innocents, which was sadly a rare few, but I did have a problem with my very breakable, very muggle sister being mated to one.
Splashing my face with cool water, I try to think firmly about my sister not in the arms of a being designed to seduce and slaughter innocent humans like her. I don't succeed, and tiredly wipe my face dry before moving back out into the small room I'm staying in.
The Leakey Cauldron is a simple place, and my small room has a double bed, matchbox-sized bathroom, full-length mirror and inbuilt cupboard- nothing but the bare necessities. In one corner of the room my trunk is leaning haphazardly against the wall, and an assortment of books and parchment is scattered across the floor.
It had only been one month since the event that had come to be called "The Battle of Hogwarts", but the Wizarding World had already changed drastically, and was in the process of still more change. Victory and loss, celebrations and mourning. The exhilaration of finding fellow survivors tempered by the heart wrenching goodbyes as loved ones and respected friends were buried. The fear and uncertainty as survivors searched for any sign of the missing.
And at the center of the emotional storm war Harry, Ron and myself. Harry insisted that he would attend every funeral, meet every survivor who needed reassuring and visit every site where refugees huddled to tell them that the long night of Voldemort's reign of terror had lifted.
I'd accompanied Harry because I knew what each meeting, funeral and gathering cost him. Looking behind the façade that he erected for the outside world to see, I knew how close to the edge he was skirting each time he walked into a room or up to a graveside.
I can't remember the last time I slept without dreaming. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is green light flashing under my eyelids, and gaunt, skull-like faces, with twisted grins, dancing along my vision. I wake up screaming, coated in sweat, clutching my left forearm, my fingers tracing the knotted scars spelling MUDBLOOD.
A chill runs through me, a cold, sickening fear, and I spin on my heel, going straight back to the bathroom, straight to the shower. The water starts running the second I open the door, automatically setting itself to the perfect temperature. Setting my wand down on the sink and shrugging out of my dirty clothes, I step under the warm spray of water and start to scrub at my skin with the soap, cleaning away all traces of her, shivering all the while.
When my skin feels rubbed raw, I drop the soap, letting it hit the floor of the shower, and take the time to wash my hair, removing all the grease. My latest distraction these past few weeks, when I haven't been at Harry's side, has been studying the senior level curriculum. I'd say I was up to speed in all the subjects, having made sure that I'd completed a basic high-school level curriculum via correspondence while at Hogwarts, but after the year on the run, I needed to catch up, to cram months and months of knowledge into my mind.
I'd been so busy, distracting myself from everything, the funerals, the loss, the trauma, by studying with a ferocious, single-minded determination, that left me unwashed and locked in my room at the Leakey for the past four days with no visitors.
The funerals had ended around a week ago. Fred's was one of the last I'd attended.
Most of the Death Eaters had been rounded up by this point. I had been involved in the rounding up, as had Harry and Ron. Harry's unique... 'connection' to Voldemort's mind meant he knew the identities of more Death Eaters then almost anyone else, and we convinced ourselves that this was why we were hunting them down- I don't think any of us actually believed it. I don't think anyone hunting down those fuckers were doing it for anything but revenge.
A not very surprising amount of Death Eaters 'died' while being 'arrested'. I felt no pity for them, not for those monsters. Old-Hermione would have been indignant that they didn't receive their fair trial, but old-Hermione was young and idealistic and I'd buried her alongside the remnants of my innocence, longer ago then I wanted to think.
I hadn't reached out to Bella until they were all gone. Until they'd all been rounded up. And with the entire British magical population thirsting for revenge, it hadn't taken long at all. A handful had escaped, probably overseas, but all the major players were accounted for. The inner circle was practically wiped out- three members were alive, and each of them was locked up in Azkaban, which the cruel, vengeful part of me, the part that felt like it was growing stronger every day, wished that Dementors were still stationed at. However Kingsley, as interim Minister, had turned that down, had reminded us that we were the Good Guys.
Sometimes, when I felt like tearing apart everyone that had hurt me and had hurt the ones I loved with my bare hands, that was hard to remember.
I almost hadn't contacted my sister, my twin. Hadn't wanted her to be tainted by what I'd become. Hadn't wanted to risk that maybe somewhere out there was a Dark sympathizer who might use her against me, might kill my defenseless muggle sister to hurt me, in revenge. But with every Death Eater hunted down and either killed or imprisoned, that excuse grew thinner and thinner.
And I'd withdrawn. I'd left the Burrow, moved into the Leakey Cauldron, four days ago. I refused to talk to anyone, until Minerva knocked on my door. It was her and Harry who convinced me that reaching out to Bella could help- would help. And they were right. Even just looking at her chicken-scratch handwriting had made me feel lighter. Staying with her... maybe it wouldn't taint her. Maybe it would help wash my own taint away.
Stepping out of the shower, the water automatically turns off, and a small piece of wandless magic dries me, and another unknots my hair. Instead of changing back into the clothes I'd been wearing before, I dressed in fresh ones- I don't fancy smelling like a mixture of pub, sweat and tears when seeing Bella for the first time in three years.
A swish and flick of my wand packs up the parchment and books, sending them into my trusty beaded handbag. Another few spells and I'm completely packed. Giving the room a final lookover, I hitch my beaded bag over my shoulder, and grasp my trunk firmly with my left hand, and my wand with my right. Intercontinental apparation was tricky, to say the least. It required a decent amount of magical, immense skill and near-perfect control. Luckily I happened to have all three.
I pictured the alleyway off the bus stop in Port Angeles, Washington, and spun to the left, stepping into nothing.
The familiar, unpleasant feeling of being squeezed through a straw was about ten times worse then usual, apparating to a different country, and when I appeared in the alley, I gagged loudly, doubling over and retching, something I hadn't done sine I'd first learned to apparate in my sixth year.
My complete lack of appetite, and therefore empty stomach, came in handy as I managed to refrain from emptying my stomach over the pavement. 'Brains of the Golden Trio, Throws Up After Apparating'- I could practically see the headlines. Of course all those gossip rags had nothing better to do then thrust Harry, Ron and I in the spotlight, putting our every movement under scrutiny so they could splash it across the front page of every newspaper- it wasn't like hundreds of people had died, or anything.
Pushing the bitter thoughts away, I exited the empty alleyway, and crossed over to the bus stop, where I got a few odd looks thanks to my large trunk. The bus headed to Forks pulled up, and I paid my fare in the few American dollars I still had- I'd need to change my pounds to American currency, but my galleons could stay as they were; I wasn't going anywhere near Gringotts for the foreseeable future.
I wished I could have just apparated to Forks, but that would have been unusual and sort of suspicious, and I was aiming to fly under the radar in Forks as much as was possible. I'd sent the owl I'd been given by Kingsley during the time when he'd contact Harry, Ron and I, along with others such as Minerva and Filius, multiple times a day for information or advice, ahead to Forks with the time I'd be arriving. I assumed she'd pick me up from the bus stop.
The bus ride was nearly forty-five minutes, and with the way the other passengers were staring at me, I could have sworn I'd left my witch's hat on, or had a face growing on the back of my skull. I remember Bella writing in her letter about how everyone kept staring at her when she first arrived. It took a lot of strength not to cast a discrete notice-me-not charm, but I avoided using magic on muggles whenever it was unnecessary. I already felt guilty enough- no need to add to my crimes by using spells on people who had no defense against them.
I spotted Bella and Charlie waiting at the bus stop, with Charlie's trusty police cruiser parked illegally, but in the best possible spot to see the bus arrive. Bella was beaming, and she started jumping up and down, waving, when she caught my eye. I couldn't help my own smile, and I was one of the first off the bus, with Bella instantly yanking me into a tight hug, squeezing me hard enough to almost break all my ribs. I inhaled her scent, reveled in the sensation of touching her, hugging her like I'd never let go.
It took Charlie clearing his throat for us to break apart. Bella looked as teary as I felt as she grasped my hands in her own, holding them tight enough to cut off the circulation. I didn't care, just held on even tighter.
"I've missed you," I say, which is the understatement of the century, but her eyes soften, and she smiles at me, a watery but genuine smile.
"I've missed you too."
Although we weren't identical twins, Bella and I were still strikingly similar in appearance. I was an inch or two taller then her, and my hair was wavy, shorter and a warm chestnut, rather than Bella's straight, dark mahogany. But the differences mainly ended there. We both had pale skin, the same intelligent chocolate brown eyes set in pretty heart shaped faces and slim figures.
Bella's sense of style has definitely improved, I noticed, taking in the stylish pair of cargo jeans and tight black-knit sweater she was wearing. I wondered what the source of her new fashion sense was- I suspected an outside influence.
"It's so good to see you again," Charlie says, voice gruff with emotion, and his eyes are all warm and crinkly. Bella lets go of one of my hands so I can give him a slightly awkward but very genuine hug,
"You too, Charlie." I tell him. He goes to pick up my trunk, but I quickly shoot a wandless 'finite' at it- Charlie isn't aware of my not-quite-a-normal-human status, and a weightless trunk wouldn't exactly aid in that impression. My parents knew that I was a witch... knew being the key term in that. Now they don't even remember they had a daughter. I ruthlessly squash down any emotion that threatens to arise with that thought, instead focusing on the present.
"How was the flight?" Charlie asks.
"It was long." I lie easily. He goes and hauls my trunk into the cruiser's boot, and Bella tugs on our still connected hands, pulling me over to the backseat, where we slide in next to each other. Doing up our seatbelts one-handed, Bella leans into me, and I rest my cheek on the top of her head.
"I can't wait to introduce you to everyone," she tells me, "Edward's coming over so I can introduce you to him, and tomorrow Esme's invited us over for lunch so you can meet his family. Oh, and Billy invited us over for to La Push tonight so you can see Jacob again. I don't know if he'll remember you- we only met once, and I think we were nine, or something. Charlie wasn't as close to Billy, back then." I notice, in the rearview mirror, Charlie grinding his teeth slightly at the mention of the Cullens- Edward in particular, and something stirs inside me as I wonder where the animosity came from, something that felt suspiciously like a dark promise of a world of pain that would rain down on Bella's vampire if he had hurt her or had mistreated her in any conceivable way.
Bella tilts her head up, smiling warmly at me. "You'll love them all, Hermione," she promises me. Will I? I can't help but wonder skeptically; or will they all just be a reminder of the magical world I'm trying to leave behind?
-
The cruiser pulls up in front of a familiar small house with white wooden siding. It's a nice house, nothing like the massive brick manor my 'parents' owned in England, but in a way, so much nicer- more home-y. I'd always enjoyed staying here.
Bella helps me lift the trunk out of the car, and wrestles the handle away from me, and wheels it, triumphantly, up to the house. Charlie rolls his eyes, affectionately, at his daughter, and I let it go without a fight, hitching my beaded handbag over my shoulder, smiling after my sister.
The inside of the house was just as I remembered; nice, neat and simple, and Bella led the way to the room that was, apparently, to be mine. We'd always bunked together on the twin bed in her room when we were younger. I suppose at eighteen, we were a bit too old for that now. And I didn't particularly want to be sleeping in the same bed I assumed she was intimate with her vampire soul mate in.
Bella pushed open the door, and waved her hand about. "Ta-da!" She announced, visibly excited. It was a nice room, with a wooden floor, light yellow walls, a peaked ceiling, red-laced curtains around the window, and a twin-sized bed with red and gold bedding... I rolled my eyes at Bella, looking at the posters of lions hung up on the wall, and noting the distinct red and gold theme.
"Of course." I said, unable to help the smile stretching across my face.
"She insisted on the color scheme." Charlie said, from behind us.
"Of course." I repeat, and I can't help but laugh. Bella looks smug.
"We'll give you some time to unpack," Charlie suggests, before giving me another light hug and a kiss on the cheek. "It's really good to have both my girls here." He says, and I'm impressed he managed to say that without any of the embarrassment he usually shows during displays of emotion.
Bella gives me a hug too, though hers is much tighter and longer, stretching over several minutes in which we just bask in the other's presence, before she finally steps back. "I love you, Hermione." She says, before adding, in a much lower voice, "if you need to talk about anything, and I mean anything, I'm right here. Remember that!" I nod, and then she also leaves, shutting the door gently behind her.
I gaze around the room, noting the oak wardrobe and desk, and the strings of lights hung about the walls. Bella really went all-out with this.
I unpack the muggle way, after setting up the only anti-vampire ward I know. The only vampire I've ever met was Sanguini, at Slughorn's Christmas Party. Sanguini's gleaming red eyes and chalky-white skin was creepy, even his otherworldly looks not making up for the 'ick-factor' as Ginny had called it. Sanguini was a human-drinker, a nomadic vampire and one of the only who knew about the Wizarding world. He was smart enough to know that despite their speed and their strength, vampires were no match for a witch or wizard, and offered his services as a sort of representative for vampires.
Last I heard of Sanguini, his arse was being blown up by one of the DA during the Battle of Hogwarts- it came as no surprise to anyone that knew the slimy prick that he'd sided with Voldemort.
The ward is similar to a muggle-repellant ward, and the source of the muggle myth that vampires can't cross a threshold without an invitation. The vampire wouldn't realize that, though- the ward's magic influenced their minds, making them think it was their idea not to go into the room.
After unpacking all my muggle things, I lock my trunk containing all my Magical things, besides my wand of course, and ward it so that, again, vampires can't break into it. The beaded handbag undergoes similar charms, including one that will make Charlie urgently remember he has to do something or rather, if he picks it up to look in it.
Finally finished unpacking, I consider taking down the lion posters, but end up leaving them up. Bella knocks on my door, and I call out to let her in. She glances around my room briefly, before closing the door behind her and sitting down on the bed. I sit down next to her, feeling a bit nervous about the apprehensive look on her face. "What is it?" I ask, warily.
"I feel like I should fill you in on what's happened since I've moved to Forks." She admits. My skin crawls.
"I'm not going to like this, am I?" I ask her, and she grimaces.
"Nope. Definitely not." And she's a hundred percent right. I'm left staring at her, horrified beyond belief, long after she's finished her sordid tale of out of control vans skidding on ice, vampire trackers after her blood, actually being Bitten, being abandoned by her soul-mate, almost being killed by another vampire, finding out her best friend is a wolf shape-shifter, jumping off a cliff and nearly drowning, actually voluntarily entering the Volturi castle, home of the equivalent to vampire royalty, and now still being hunted down by yet another vampire.
"And to think the worst danger I thought you'd be in was your ability to trip over a flat surface," I finally manage to speak.
"Yes, well, apparently I'm a trouble-magnet." She admits, and I give a somewhat hysterical laugh.
"Yes, I picked that up, right around the time you managed to attract the attention of a gang of drunk perverts while in bloody Port Olympia! Do you know the crime statistics of that town?"
"Low?" Bella ventures, and I nod.
"Yes. Very, very low." She gives me a sheepish smile, before her expression turns more serious.
"So, I've showed you mine, you show me yours." She says, and I physically flinch. Her eyes widen at my reaction, filling with worry. "It's that bad?" she whispers, and her face has gone pale. I close my eyes so I don't have to look at her concern, witness her reaction.
"Worse."
She hugs me, for the umpteenth time, but I just hug her back. Being back together again, it feels like something that's been missing has returned, an itch I wasn't quite aware of that's finally been scratched.
(I desperately don't think of George).
"Edward will be here in a moment," Bella says, suddenly. "I'll go let him in- Charlie probably won't even open the door for him if I don't go down. I'll be right back though, I promise. I'm really excited about you meeting him." She says, with such sincerity that something inside me melts.
"Fine." I tell her, "I won't throw garlic at him when he walks in." She rolls her eyes.
"Very funny; you know that won't actually do anything, right?" I raise an eyebrow.
"You are aware of how sensitive a vampire's nose is, aren't you?" Bella snorts, a grin spreading across her face.
"You're awful," she says, and I grin back at her, more weight lifting from my shoulders.
"Absolutely dreadful." I agree. I can still hear her laughing as she walks down the stairs, and I can't help but grin at the sound. My grin fades though as my skin prickles, my ward picking up the presence of her vampire. When she appears back in my doorway, the vampire is standing right next to her and I feel a bit sick, even with the reassurance of his golden eyes.
Doesn't drink humans, I tell myself firmly, before trying for a more natural look. "Come in," I say, inviting the vampire into my room, not that he's consciously aware that he was previously barred from it. When he stopped at the threshold, he probably thought it was his own idea- being a gentleman, I guessed, waiting for permission to enter a lady's room.
Bella chews on her lip, a nervous habit we share, as Edward and I give each other a once-over. Bella's gushing over his good looks, back during her long explanation of the last year and a bit, really didn't do him justice- no words could. That's just the way it was with beings of supernatural beauty, such as vampires and veela and fae.
Edward had perfect features, untidy hair was an unusual bronze shade and his eyes were a gleaming topaz. I was mildly attracted to him, even though my attention lay with the fairer sex. That's just how it was with vampires.
As I looked at him, I wondered what he saw when he looked at me? A girl very similar to Bella in appearance, surely; the same high cheekbones, pointy jaw, disproportionate lips and big, brown eyes. But the differences must be so much more obvious to his keener eyes- Bella doesn't have the same muscle as I do, whipcord, taut muscles, the kind that only came from constant use and although Bella has a slender frame, my sister's weight is in the healthy range. I don't need to be a medi-witch to know that I'm underweight- being on the run while suffering an enormous amount of stress, followed by a crushing, almost paralysing grief will do that to a girl.
The biggest difference between us, though, were the ones that weren't visible to the naked eye, not at a first glance anyway; Bella's eyes were clear of the haunted shadows and anguish that I saw reflected in the eyes of nearly everyone I knew, everyone I'd fought with, the weight of lost lives, heavy on my shoulders.
Pulling myself from my thoughts once again, I force myself to focus on the present, not to slip back into the past. It's Edward who initiates our first conversation.
"Hello Hermione, I'm Edward." He introduces himself, politely. He holds out a hand and I shake it, being careful not to flinch as I touch his icy skin. I'm vividly aware of the wand in my sleeve, and I wonder if this turns ugly I'll be able to pull it out in time.
It's not going to turn ugly, I berate myself harshly, but the instincts of war are hard to put behind you, and vampires literally scream predator, putting my already frayed nerves to the test. "It's nice to meet you." I say, keeping my voice carefully polite. Bella's lips are twitching, and I throw her a resigned look. "And you're laughing because...?''
"You two," she answers, a broad smile on her face, "you're both being so careful to be polite- it's hilarious to watch."
"This is the thanks I get for being supportive of you having a vampire boyfriend?" I demand, my instincts automatically taking note of Edward stiffening slightly behind me.
It's then I feel something that stops me dead in my tracks- a brushing against my Occlumency shields. I react on pure reflex, borne from being trained as a soldier.
I spin around, eyes flashing with fury. In that instant, I've switched to fight or flight, and Edward is the enemy. "Stay out of my head!" I snarl, slamming down extra shields with enough force that Edward actually stumbles back, hands clamped to his head. I'm reaching for my wand when Bella grabs my hand, pulling me back around to face her.
I manage to stop myself from twisting the wrist of the arm that grabbed me until it snaps as looking at her, taking in her appearance, halts my reflexes. Bella's saying something, and I force myself into the present, blocking out the echoes of screams to concentrate on what she's saying. "You're okay, you're safe," she's repeating, over and over, and I take several deep breaths.
I feel sick to my stomach at the thought I almost broke Bella's wrist when she grabbed me, and I even feel guilty about almost reducing her soul mate to rubble, especially as I remember her now telling me that his Gift wasn't something he could control- he hadn't meant to pry into my head (I didn't want to think about the last time someone had tried to violate my mind).
"Maybe this wasn't the best idea." I say, voice hollow. I almost hurt her, almost hurt Bella.
"If you leave now, I'll punch you." Bella tells me, face fierce, "I'll probably break my thumb doing it, but I'll still punch you." I chuckle weakly, sitting down heavily onto the bed again. Bella rubs my arm, supportively, and I stiffen as her palm moves over the knotted scars hidden beneath my sweater. She doesn't seem to notice, and I move my arm, grabbing her hand instead.
"So, where's Enoch?" She asks, and I don't mind her obvious subject change.
"Out flying somewhere, probably. He doesn't really like me." I admit, "but he was a sort-of gift, so I can't give him back. He fends for himself, mostly, though. He'll come if he wants something from me. I'll probably give him to Ginny, anyway. She's going back to Ho-to our boarding school, so she might enjoy having him close at hand."
"Who's Enoch?" Edward asks, and I work on not blaming him for what's happened to Bella since he entered her life as I answer.
"He's my pet bird. Well, sort of mine. He really doesn't like me. Or anyone."
"What sort of bird is he?" Edward asks, showing polite interest in my life.
"Oh, well, I have some friends, in England, that trained these owls to act like carrier pigeons, basically," I tell him, "one of them, Kingsley, gave him to me." Edward looks genuinely interested now.
"That sounds intriguing- I haven't heard about that before. Hunting falcons, yes, and carrier pigeons, but owls? That is fascinating. You have interesting friends." I can't help the laugh that escapes me as he says that.
"Oh believe me, that's understating it." I tell him.
"So where did you go to boarding school?" He asks, looking genuinely interested, and my good humor vanishes instantly as images of the wreckage of Hogwarts dance mockingly across the front of my skull, the Dark Mark hovering tauntingly above the Astronomy Tower.
"Scotland." I say, and my voice is so bleak that Edward doesn't ask for any further information. I can feel my hands tremble, and the memories are getting harder to suppress.
"Crookshanks!" Bella says, suddenly, "Crookshanks!" I turn to look at her, confused but grateful that the memories have been subdued, even if I can still feel them lurking, ready to pull me under so deep that I can't breathe, drowning in them.
"He, uh, he's gone." I tell her, because I honestly have no idea where he is. He stayed with my parents after I memory charmed them into becoming Monica and Wendell. I hoped that they were treating him well (and that they were alive, all of them, except no, no, no- I refused to even acknowledge that thought).
Bella presses her forehead against mine, and I let my body slump forward. "We've got a long road ahead of us, don't we?" she says, softly. I know Edward can hear what she's saying, but he politely doesn't say anything.
"Yes," I tell her, deciding to give a truthful answer. "I-" am broken? Messed up? Shattered into too many little pieces that all the king's horsemen and all the king's men would struggle to put me back together? "I- yes. A long, long road."