Juno Gerges đź“š Hermione Granger (bosswitch) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2017-10-01 13:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * emily, r: juno gerges |
WHO: Juno Gerges → Hermione, Miriam, and Norman Granger; Ron Weasley
WHEN: October 1, 2017 → July 28(ish), 1997
WHERE: Casa Gerges → Casa Granger & 12 Grimmauld Place
SUMMARY: Hermione obliviates her parents and Juno gets all the feels.
WARNINGS: None, just some sadness :(
A tightness gripped Hermione’s throat and chest as she surveyed her bedroom for what she was well aware might be the last time. Hermione ran her fingers fondly down the spines of the books on her deep purple, floor-to-ceiling bookcase; her favorite piece of furniture. She found herself lingering on beloved stories from her childhood; The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, A Wrinkle in Time, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings...stories that took her to faraway, magical lands before she ever would have dared to imagine that there was a real magical land to which she belonged. And she did belong--no Malfoy or Death Eater or even Voldemort himself could make her doubt it, because she knew unequivocally that they were wrong about Muggle-borns, wrong about Muggles, and wrong about the Dark Arts. Which was why she had to leave and help Harry--and not only did she have to do it because she felt compelled to fight for their imperfect but beautiful world, but because Harry was one of her best friends and he needed her. Hermione could never desert him, but she wasn’t foolish enough not to think there was a very real possibility that they might die. Or even if they survived, even if they triumphed over Voldemort, she still couldn’t be certain that she’d ever be able to return here after what she was about to do to her parents. Hermione’s gut turned at the thought, her wand feeling hot and heavy in her palm. She cast the bookshelf one last forlorn look. She’d already stripped it of every magical text that might be useful to them, there was no need for any other, they’d only weigh them down. Taking an unsteady breath, Hermione’s eyes swept the cozy, familiar room one last time before she closed the door. What she was about to do next was going to be much harder. Hermione quietly descended the stairs, gently treading or skipping any creaky spots--she knew them well enough to know which to avoid. She found her parents in the living room, her mother stretched out on the couch and using her father as a pillow, both engrossed in books and tea on their day off. Her eyes welled with tears and it took a great amount of discipline not to let out an audible sob. Hermione wanted to say goodbye to them, wanted to tell them that she loved them and she was grateful for their unwavering love, support, and acceptance...and also that she was sorry for what she had to do to them, for what a deep violation this was of their minds and their identities. But she couldn’t have them face her, she would need to sneak out before they could question who she was. Hand shaking, Hermione pointed her wand at the backs of her parents heads. “Obliviate,” she murmured. Hermione watched for only a second as their heads drooped before hurrying quietly out of their home. With any luck, the spell had gone right, and Norman and Miriam Granger would now be Wendell and Monica Wilkins, a married couple filled with a powerful desire to move to Australia and bring free dental care to aboriginal communities. She hoped the false memories she’d implanted of discussing the move, attending conferences, going on more short-term projects to Australia with a nonprofit organization would be enough to make them actually take action and go. Most importantly, though, Wendell and Monica didn’t have a daughter. Hermione slipped out the front door and onto the street, now crying in earnest. A few blocks from her house, she took a seat on a nearby bench and let the sobs rack through her body, sputtering and gasping for air. She needed to get it all out now--Hermione didn’t want to dump this burden onto Harry, who would jump at any excuse to convince Hermione to stay behind, or Ron, who Hermione knew would soon need to bid his own family farewell. Nothing had happened yet, not exactly--but Hermione always thought several steps ahead. With Dumbledore dead and having left Harry a special mission, she knew she would go with him and knew this would put her parents in grave danger--lest she hid them well. Hermione inhaled shakily and reasoned with herself that if they survived, she could find them and restore their memories, and even if that was complicated, at least they wouldn’t be dead and likely tortured first. If she died, well...at least her parents could live new lives rather than have to grieve their only child. Strangely, it wasn’t a very comforting thought. Hermione sat there until she felt calm enough to take the Underground to Grimmauld Place. She could have apparated, but taking the train would allow her some more time to pull herself together--and possibly cry some more. When she turned onto Grimmauld Place, Hermione stood before 11 and 13 Grimmauld Places until the fidelius charm recognized her as a secondary keeper and 12 Grimmauld Place revealed itself to her. Stepping into the gloomy and imposing abode, Hermione followed the sound of voices talking until she found the majority of the Order gathered in the kitchen and planning Harry’s departure from Privet Drive. Hermione still felt raw and now exposed as several Weasleys, Fleur, Mundungus Fletcher, Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley, and Hagrid all paused and turned to look at her. “Hermione, dear,” Mrs. Weasley greeted fondly. “Got here alright?” her brow furrowed, and Hermione knew she must have read something on her face. “Everything alright, dear?” she asked. Hermione bit her lip, forced a smile, and nodded, allowing herself to be embraced by Mrs. and Mr. Weasley in turn before her eyes finally locked with Ron’s--she felt something loosen around her heart at the sight of him and without even stopping to think, Hermione threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Hermione!” Ron said, surprised, but wrapped his arms firmly around her. “What was that for?” he asked, as the rest of the Order continued their planning. “Nothing,” she murmured, giving him one last squeeze before pulling back. Hermione knew she’d tell him--and Harry--in time, once everything was more in order. She smiled. “I’m just happy to see you,” she told him truthfully. Ron blushed suddenly, running a hand through his hair. “Well...well, me too! Happy to see you, I mean,” he stumbled, taking a seat beside her. Tonks caught Hermione up on the game plan--they’d fly to Privet Drive, polyjuice into Harry, then make their way to the Burrow. She wrinkled her nose a bit at the thought of having to turn into Harry, but nodded along, all the while she kept her shoulder pressed into Ron’s. She could have moved over to give them both some more space, but she wanted to be close to him. Hermione didn’t feel better, exactly, but she felt a great deal less alone with Ron beside her. Juno woke up crying, her face and pillow wet from earnest sobbing, mouth dry--dehydrated. The dream was still vividly, painfully with her, and yet...she wasn’t at all sure that it had been a dream, it had felt so real. She was still in her room with the purple bookcase and extensive personal library. But she needed to go, didn’t she? She had to help Harry. Disoriented and confused, Juno threw off her covers and rushed down the steps to find her parents sitting in a strikingly similar position--her mother leaned into her father in the same manner, reading a book and circling the rim of her tea mug with her ring finger. For a moment, Juno reached into the pocket of her pajama pants for her wand, but found it wasn’t there--what had she done with it? As she stood, frozen, her father looked up. “Juno, sweetie?” he asked. “What’s wrong?” Juno’s throat was still tight and constricted, but she managed to croak out, “You remember me?” Her mother smiled bemusedly up at her, her brow furrowing, “Juno, I think you need to stop falling asleep over those SAT books,” she said. Juno rubbed her red, puffy eyes. Her father frowned, “Have you been crying?” he asked. It seemed rather futile to lie now, “I just had a bad dream is all,” she explained, blushing suddenly as she realized what the dream had been--it was the beginning of the seventh Harry Potter book. She’d just had a Harry Potter dream and gotten all wound up about it. How embarrassing. Her father continued to frown, “I think mom’s right, why don’t you take a break today?” he asked. “I’ve got homework and studying to do,” Juno reasoned, but half-heartedly. She did feel exhausted. “But you have everything done for Monday? Tuesday, too?” her mother asked, knowing Juno too well. “Well, yes…” Juno admitted. Her mother smiled, “So take a break.” Juno considered it--though she felt calmer now, she still had a very strong desire to see Rory. “I think...I’m going to get ready and give Rory a call. See if he wants to hang out.” “I think that sounds like just the thing to shake off a bad dream,” her father encouraged. |