Damnation of Memory

Title: Damnation of Memory
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Suspense, romance, angst
Warnings: Character Death, Violence, Adult Situations
Summary: DH-EWE: With every generation, a Dark Wizard rises. Hermione Granger has survived one. However, after nearly thirteen years, a dead man returns to inform her that she must fight again, and this time, Harry Potter will not be the one to save the world from madness.
Author's Notes: This is my 1st full length SS/HG fic and my second 1st person POV fic. Please note that not every detail is canon, including the canon floor plan of Grimmauld Place. This chapter is also unbeta’d, so please, pardon the mistakes!




Damnation of Memory - X




Part Two

Danger is Sweet
Dulce periculum



I was told that my mother’s death was instantaneous, but I often wondered if she knew that that moment would be her last. Did she know she was going to die? If so, had she been frightened?

I missed my mother, but while I lived, I saw her in my dreams. And in my dreams, she was so beautiful.

I saw her again, in death, just as I saw her in my dreams. However, in my dreams, I could never touch her, it was only in death that I could lay my head on her lap under the massive apple tree. She had set her lyre aside to stroke my hair and hum an ancient lullaby. I knelt at her feet, hugging her legs, happy to rest my head forever. I yawned as the lullaby ended and her fingers lifted my face so that her honey coloured eyes could meet mine.

“I’m not scared,” I said to her, as if to answer an unsaid question.

“You have been for a long time, my darling,” my mother said, stroking my cheek. “The fear has gripped you for so long…”

I blinked slowly. “Since the War, since losing the baby, since losing Ron, and you. Why have I lost so much?”

My mother smiled sadly. “It was your lot, Hermione, unfortunate as it has been. But, it has made you stronger, it has readied you for the future.”

I frowned. “I have no future anymore, mummy,” I whispered, using my childish endearment.

“Yes, you do. It will be a glorious future, but first you have to overcome the trials of the time in which you were born.”

I opened my mouth to protest. I was dead. I did not want to go on, not with all the hideous things that were to come. I did not want to be part of some puzzle of Merlin or the Knights of Walpurgis any longer. I was tired of fighting, and tired of the bleakness of my life. I wanted to rest my head on my mother’s lap and sleep, forever.

“You are the key, Hermione, and you are the keeper. If you die, the madness that is imprisoned in this tree will be released. Everything and everyone you have ever loved will die…”

My mother was no longer looking at me, but at the enormous trunk of the apple tree. My eyes moved to the tree and to the branches above us. The golden apples swayed on the limbs in a fragrant breeze, the pale green leaves whispered. I wanted to tell her that there were so few left to love.

“You must live. This place is not just a dream or the afterlife, it is real.”

My mother was not my mother, just a vision. The woman who stroked my cheek was a version of my mother, just as she was a version of all the women who came before me. In death, there was truth.

“Yes, my darling, now you see…”

She was my mother, my mother’s mother, all the way back to the source.

“You cannot die, you must live in order to keep the monster imprisoned here in its place. You, your daughter, your daughter’s daughter, as it has always been since the olden days, unless you act.”

I wanted to tell her that even if I lived I could not have daughters. I had had one and she had died.

“As long as my line lives, I have the power to keep this tree alive. And as long as my line lives, there is a chance to end it.”

I understood, somehow, but still I wanted to stay.

“Please don’t make me go…” I whispered. “I don’t want to be alone any longer.”

The mother of all my mothers smiled, and in that smile, I saw myself. “You won’t be. The yew has brought one to you that was dead…you have brought him before this tree in your dreams, and he has stood by you, as he will always stand by you. He is the last defence we have if the monster escapes…”

I stared at my mother, incredulous. Severus…

“Now go.”

I found myself moving, my wishes not complying with my body. I stood before my mother and turned away. The mist that surrounded the tree parted for me to walk along the grassy ground, the scent of apples on the wind. I walked and walked, my feet bare, wearing my dragon hide trousers and shirt. The scent of apples was replaced by the scent of blood.

It was as the mist compressed around me, that I felt the pain.





Oxygen entered my lungs and I gasped, my back arching my body upward. I was blind, but I could hear and feel. I heard someone weeping distantly, but closer, I heard gasps of shock. I felt hands pulling me back down to lie on my back.

“That’s impossible,” I heard someone say, but I did not know who. “She was dead, damnit, she was dead!”

“Shut it, Potter, and find some more bandages!” a male voice hissed near me. “And get your wife to hurry with the potions!”

Severus, it was Severus’ voice.

“I’m here, Professor!”

My jaw was forced open and potions poured down my throat. I gagged, but swallowed the best I could. The pain I felt in my chest burned into my lungs, making it hard to breathe, making it seem as if my heart were somehow squeezed.

“Mrs. Potter, you need to stop the bleeding, or the potion will have been for naught.”

Ginny was there.

“I know…it’s just…”

“Get a hold of yourself, woman, you’re supposed to be a Healer!”

Magic floated over me and soon the pain diminished until I could breath properly.

“There’s internal bleeding,” I heard Ginny mutter.

“Can it be stopped?”

The question was by a different voice, Greg Goyle’s voice.

“I will have to locate it first. The diagnostic Charm is not so precise,” Ginny muttered.

“Do what you must, Mrs. Potter, anything to make sure she lives,” I heard Severus say, then felt his hand on my forehead.

“How is she?” I heard a new voice ask, a female voice, ragged and tearful.

“She might live,” Greg answered. “And if she does, you should be kneeling at her feet, Pans, thanking her for saving your life.”

There was anger in Greg’s voice, and if I had been able, I would have smiled.

“I know, I know!” Pansy said through her tears.

“There now,” another voice said, soothingly. Fannie. “Let’s get you something to drink, my dear, and let Mrs. Potter and Severus heal Miss Granger…”

I heard footsteps away, and by the sound of footfall on stone, I figured that I was on the scullery table, just as Fannie had been the day before.

“Found it,” I heard Ginny mutter. “The spleen has been…” she trailed. “I can heal it,” she stated and I imagined that she was saying this to Severus after a concerned or angry glance. “Did Parkinson say what caused this?”

“A Blasting Curse at close range. It must have caught her just as they were Apparating,” Severus grumbled.

I heard Ginny make a disapproving noise. “Emergency medicine is not my field, Pro-Severus, she should have been taken straight to St. Mungo’s, or a Muggle hospital. Did you do something to resuscitate her?”

Severus said nothing and I did not know if he had answered by a gesture or not. Ginny sighed.

“Damn Parkinson…” Ginny muttered. “My git brother is marrying her next week, and I doubt Hermione knew. Not that it matters…”

“What do you mean?”

I did not want Ginny to talk about Ron. For six years, the Weasley women and I had had a tacit agreement not to talk about Ron—ever. I certainly did not want Severus to hear about Ron, it was not relevant to anything.

“Hermione doesn’t talk to Ron and vice versa, and to have Parkinson here… I’m not going to ask to know what is going on, why Harry has been running around because of you, but if Parkinson is here, be sure that Ron won’t be far behind…”

I wanted to open my eyes and confront Ginny, as it was, I could only listen.

“And that would be a problem,” Severus said simply.

“It would be a disaster. Ron and Hermione were together for a few years after the War. They were partners in the MLE, and they fought like Kneazles and Knarls. Then Hermione got pregnant, and…”

Nothing more was said for a long moment and I wondered what silent gestures were made.

“It ended, not exactly badly, but it ended,” Ginny finished.

Severus said nothing, but I felt his fingers skim along the back of my right hand.

“I’ve stopped the bleeding.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Greg’s voice called out, and I realized he had not been in the room during Ginny’s explanation.

“See that Kreacher prepares a bed with clean linens,” Severus said softly.

“And a basin with clean water and towels,” Ginny added. “I could cast Cleansing Charms, but they aren’t enough for this…” she whispered, to Severus, I supposed.

Severus’ movement made a noise and I heard Greg walk away.

“I’ll Levitate her up the stairs,” Severus uttered.

“I’ll see to Ms. Fancourt. You did a bang up job with her…”

Silence again.

A pained whimper passed my lips as I felt my body being lifted magically, and then I felt Severus’ fingers on my brow. I heard nothing more, but felt that I was being moved. I could also sense Severus’ anger like a palpable nudge against my mind.

When my body rested upon a soft mattress, Severus spoke.

“Fool woman,” he snarled.




I slept without dreaming, and when I was conscious, I still could not open my eyes and communicate. I was aware of Ginny, and her concern. I could feel her delicate hands moving over my body and a cool towel wiping my skin.

“Your brother is here, Gin,” I heard a voice say softly and it took me a moment to realize it was Harry’s voice. “I have him in the drawing room.”

It was then I opened my eyes. Which brother?

I was lying in Sirius’ old room, morning light streaming in through the window.

“Hermione, thank the gods,” Ginny said, bending over me as she sat on the edge of the bed.

Harry’s face was soon in view, relief etched into his scarred brow. I tried to rise, but I only made it up to lean on my elbows.

“Not so fast, luv,” Ginny cooed, helping me to lie back again. “You’re too weak for that yet.”

I wanted to ask what had happened, but I knew, I had heard.

“Parkinson?”

My voice was a dry whisper and as Harry brought me a cup of water, I drank deeply.

“Safe. She’s in the drawing room now with Ron. I’ve spoken to her,” Harry began to explain. “It will be alright, Hermione, she won’t say anything…”

I lay my head back into the pillow. “The others? Ron cannot…”

“They’re in the house, safe, he won’t see them.”

I sighed, taking in the state of my body. I ached from head to toe, but the pain was negligible. The worst ache was in my chest, just below my breasts, and I assumed that was where the brunt of the Curse had hit me.

“What does he know?” I asked, my voice stronger.

Harry knelt by the bedside, and whispered. “The MLE was alerted to the attack in Helston. One of the agents alerted us.”

I frowned. “Why would they do that? They attacked us…”

Harry nodded. “It appears that one agent was not comfortable with their orders. Roger Davies has given his statement that they were to detain Pansy, an obvious lie. We have questioned Muggle witnesses, it is certain that you were attacked.”

I stared at Harry for a moment, “Roger Davies was one of the agents who attacked?”

Harry nodded, “Polyjuice…”

I sighed. “And the others, I…”

Harry grasped my left hand. “You won’t be charged. You were protecting Pansy, you won’t be charged,” he insisted.

I closed my eyes. I had killed, and no matter how I tried to recall it in my mind, I would never be able to explain how without sounding mad.

“You will be questioned, however, about your involvement…”

“Pansy had covered for you,” Ginny added. “She says that you two met to discuss her wedding—to make some sort of amends since you and Ron were…” she trailed.

“But Ron and Flint will want to know more details,” Harry added. “It is out of my hands, Hermione. I cannot have anything to do with this…”

I opened my eyes. I understood. Harry was putting his own family in danger by harbouring the Knights of Walpurgis in his house, despite being one himself. The attack upon Parkinson and myself made me feel that once again, someone was a step ahead of us all.

“Ron wants to speak with you,” Harry then said and I turned my face away.

Ron.

“You’ll have to tell him to wait, Harry,” Ginny hissed.

“No,” I sighed. “It is better to get this over with now than later.”

Besides, I wanted to gauge what Ron knew. Harry’s work in the MLE had always been with Death Eaters and related criminal investigation, just as mine had been with interrogation. Ron was the strategist, dealing with intelligence. If a conspiracy involving the Knights were active in the Ministry, surely it was not just contained to the Department of Intelligence.

Ginny helped me don a dressing robe over the plain white night dress I had been put into after a long night of her spells and Severus’ potions to heal me. I was unsteady on my feet, weak, and Harry helped me walk with Ginny waddling ahead of us.

When Harry and I entered the first floor drawing room, it was to find Pansy Parkinson sitting on a divan, her hair a mess of ebony waves, her dress suit rumpled. Marcus Flint stood near the window, thick arms cross before his chest, his back pressed into the windowsill. His red Auror robes were a bloody colour in the light from the window overlooking Grimmauld Sqaure. And standing next to the small fireplace, elbow on the mantle, was Ron.

He looked well. His crimson hair was longer, reminding me of Bill’s hair, but the thin and well-trimmed beard on his jaw made him appear older. His red robes fit him handsomely, as did the dark blue suit underneath. Ron no longer looked like the poor boy I knew with hand-me-down clothes. He was far better kempt than when we were together.

Upon my entrance, Ron’s blue eyes widened slightly as he studied me, but before he could speak, Pansy had risen and rushed to me. Harry kept his arm tightly about my waist as Pansy grasped my hands, kissing them. I gaped slightly as her tears began to fall.

Between her gasping sobs, she thanked me for saving her life, among other things. I tried to smile, but the effort was tiring. Over Pansy’s head, I watched both Ron and Flint stand straighter, donning their official Auror personas. I knew Ron would never be thanking me for saving the life of his future wife…

Harry begged Pansy to step aside, which she did, but held my right hand, helping me to sit on the divan. It was if the world had turned up side down with Pansy holding my hand, sitting next to me as if I were her greatest friend. Harry had moved to speak to Ginny who all the while had deposited herself in an armchair near the door.

“Don’t you dare say anything rude, Ronald Weasley,” Pansy snarled when Ron moved forward to stand before us. At Pansy’s words, Ron was slightly taken aback, his blue eyes softening at the sight of Pansy. “She saved my life last night. If it had not been for her, there would be a funeral next week and not a wedding!”

I heard Ginny snicker softly. Ron’s face reddened as he glanced to his sister. Clearing his throat, he began.

“I am glad that you are alright, Pansy, but I’m not here to thank Granger…”

The icy, clinical nature in which he said my name made my chest hurt, not from the lingering effects of a close range Curse, but from sorrow.

“I, we,” Ron said, glancing to Flint, “are here to take Granger’s statement.”

I turned my eyes away and to my hand in Pansy’s lap. She squeezed my fingers gently, and I knew then that Pansy was willing to protect me in some manner. The reason why eluded me.

Flint withdrew a notebook and Dicta-quill from his robes and set it on the windowsill beside him. Ron stepped back to sit in the only empty armchair in the room, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his large hands clasped. The posture was reminiscent of the day he told me that he could no longer stay with me, that he could not bear the pain of the loss of our child…

“Let it be noted that Hermione Jean Granger is present in the company of Pansy Tamsin Selwyn Parkinson, Ginerva Potter, and Harry James Potter in Mr. Potter’s home of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London. Dictation taken by Marcus Reginald Flint. Ronald Bilius Weasley, conducting the interview. This being the thirtieth day of April, 2010.

Do you consent to give your statement, Miss Granger?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my eyes meeting Ron’s. Ron blinked and then nodded to Flint.

“Miss Parkinson has given her statement to the events of the night before in Helston, Cornwall. She has explained that you and she were meeting in an establishment called Blue Anchor Inn, when three men entered your private parlour and attacked you.”

“Yes,” I whispered again, feeling Pansy squeeze my fingers again.

“Previous to the attack, why had you come to Helston to meet with Miss Parkinson?”

I swallowed. Ron did not look at me, but at my bare feet under the hem of my dark blue dressing gown Ginny had given to me to wear.

“It was to discuss your impending nuptials, Mr. Weasley,” I uttered, stressing the honorific before Ron’s surname. “Pansy wanted to confer with me…”

I stopped, frowning.

“Are you the right person to be doing this?” I then asked.

Ron’s eyes narrowed as they moved to my face. “I have been put in charge of this investigation, Granger, not because my fiancée was involved, but because an agent of the Department of Intelligence is now dead. However, if you wish for Flint to take your statement, it can be done…”

I mimicked his expression. I could feel anger from him; see it in the slight furrowing of his brow and the tightening of his jaw. He was barely able to contain that anger.

“She wanted to confer with me, to tell me of your wedding, as a gesture that she held no ill feelings toward me due to our past relationship,” I continued. “It was a kind gesture, and as we were beginning to leave, that was when the door burst open. I was knocked back. Two men approached Pansy; the third man cast several Stunners at me. I defended myself, and Pansy.”

I paused, glancing to Pansy who was shaking uncontrollably, her eyes upon our hands in her lap.

“The closest man to Pansy moved to Curse her. I suppose I Apparated just before her, to shield her…”

“One agent has described that you had your wand knocked away, and that in defence, you somehow cast wandlessly, a Curse that caused fire to engulf one of the agents,” Ron supplied. His words were slightly stilted, and I knew that he remembered…

I nodded. “It was instinctual magic. I knew that the agent was trying to cast a Killing Curse…”

Ron’s eyes flickered to Pansy and I watched Pansy nod. She must have told Ron the same thing.

“I Summoned my wand. I told Pansy to hold tight to me, there was no way out of the parlour, and I knew that we had to Apparate somewhere safe. Just as we were about to go, the agent who had tried to Stun me cast. By the time we were in the Square outside, I had not realized I was hurt.”

I had told the basic story, and fell silent. Pansy squeezed my fingers again.

“Why did you come to Grimmauld Square, to this house?”

I frowned. Surely, Ron knew, but I knew I had to state the reason for the records.

“I’ve been staying with the Potters for the last few weeks…”

“Is it true that your department at the Ministry has been dissolved and that you are currently unemployed.”

I ground my teeth before answering. “Yes.”

“And that you have been seen in Auror regalia in the company of an unknown wizard in Hogsmeade and Hogwarts?”

I took a breath, hoping to quell my growing anger.

“Seen by whom, may I ask? What does that have to do with the attack on myself and Pansy last night?”

Ron said nothing, but his eyes burned into my face.

“There is also the question as to your involvement of the illegal removal of Ministry property from a seized house in Lambeth…”

“Enough!”

It was Pansy, but her voice had taken on a forceful tone despite the trembling of her lips and limbs.

“I may not know the laws like you, Ronald Weasley, but if you are to question her about anything other than the attack last night, she should have legal representation present.”

I balked, as did Ginny. My eyes studied Pansy’s face and the hardening of her dark eyes.

“Hermione Granger nearly died last night, trying to save my life. She does not deserve this…”

Ron was obviously surprised at his fiancée, but as he turned his attention to me, his anger seemed to double. I could tell he wanted to complain, his jaw working unpleasantly. However, he seemed to swallow his anger and speak smoothly again.

“Pardon me,” he grumbled. “I’ll continue with questions pertaining to last night…”

I bit the inside of my cheek. The MLE was aware of my involvement in taking Arcturus’ portrait. I knew that it would was only a matter of time before they figured that detail out. All the same, Severus and I had been noticed in Hogsmeade. I doubted Minerva would say anything to the Ministry or Rosmerta for that matter. Both women were known for their discretion. It led me to think that perhaps I was being watched, even before Severus returned. If so, why had the MLE been notified? If there was some conspiracy to rout the Knights of Walpurgis, to find the secret of Merlin’s prison, why bother bringing Aurors into the plot?

“Did you recognize any of the three who attacked you?”

“No.”

“Did they speak to you?”

“No.”

“Can you think of any reason why agents of the Department of Intelligence would want to detain you?”

I frowned. “Is that what they are saying?”

Ron stuttered. “Y-yes. They wanted to detain you and Miss Parkinson for questioning concerning the murder of Horace Slughorn.”

I felt Pansy stiffen and Harry’s eyes bore into the side of my head.

“They made no mention of such a thing, in fact, if a Stunner was a formal greeting, I would say that they were there to do more than ‘detain’ us, Mr. Weasley,” I growled. “Besides, I have not seen Professor Slughorn in years…”

“It is reported that you were asking about him only last week in Hogsmeade.”

We had been followed, or surveilled in some fashion.

“Then your information is incorrect, Mr. Weasley.”

“Then why were you in Hogsmeade?”

I drew my hand from Pansy’s and started to stand. Immediately, Harry was at my side, steadying me.

“I have friends in Hogsmeade, Mr. Weasley. Now, if you are accusing me of something, do it now so I can start arranging for legal representation,” I snarled.

Ron rose as well, his face flushing. “You have killed an agent of the Department of Intelligence, it is my duty to investigate every thing leading up to that point, Granger!”

His anger was beginning to vent, and I raised my chin although the energy it took to stand had nearly drained me. Of all people, I was not going to let Ron Weasley’s feeble attempts at interrogation to make me reveal anything. Someone had proverbially ‘lit a fire’ under him as means to ascertain my motives and movements.

“I have told you the truth of the matter, Weasley. I was defending Parkinson, and she will attest to this fact. The matter of the attack should be taken up with the Head of the Department of Intelligence, Percy Weasley. If anyone should be investigated, it should be him,” I growled, and immediately regretted it as I swayed, falling into Harry.

“That’s enough, Ron,” Harry muttered. “You have enough!”

Pansy was then on her feet, placing herself between Ron and me.

“End the dictation, Flint,” Ron snarled.

Flint, who had been watching and listening, seemed amused and ended the Charm, taking up his notebook and quill and slipping it into his cloak. He walked about the perimeter of the drawing room and disappeared out the door. Ginny, who had been sitting silently all the while, followed.

“I don’t know what is going on here, but I swear by Merlin Granger, this is not over!”

The threat did not bother me. I was far too exhausted to care. However, Pansy retorted for me in a dangerous whispering that turned Ron’s attention from me to her.

“Let me help you,” Harry whispered.

I was dragging my feet as Harry helped me to the door. In the corridor, Harry hauled me up into his arms, and I did not protest. He carried me back to Sirius’ old room where Ginny waited.

“I don’t know if I’ve made things worse or not,” I muttered as Harry laid me in bed.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Harry whispered, pulling the sheets over me. “You need to rest.”

I frowned. “It does matter, Harry. Someone is using Ron…”

Ginny snorted. “Pansy will sort it out.”

I shook my head, letting it roll on the pillow. “Someone has set Ron onto this path, using Pansy as a way in…” I whispered.

“Percy?” Harry suggested, sitting on the edge of the bed as Ginny moved about the room to fill a basin in a stand near the door with water. I supposed Kreacher had brought the basin in the room while I slept.

“Maybe. It is his department, his agents. Percy would never have so little control over his people…”

“He could be being used as well,” Harry said.

“No, not Percy,” Ginny said, moving slowly to the bedside with the basin and a towel over her arm. She set the basin on the bedside table and shooed Harry away to take his place on the bed. “Percy was used enough during the War. After Fudge, Percy has become his own man.”

Harry paced, rubbing his chin. “We need to get Ron out of the house…”

Ginny nodded and began wiping my brow of sweat with a damp towel. “Considering you were dead for almost half an hour, you’re doing better that I thought possible,” Ginny whispered, turning the conversation away from the ever-elusive answer of who was responsible for the growing death and destruction around us.

Harry quickly left the room and Ginny sighed.

“The less I know, the better,” she said with a smirk.

“Very true, Gin,” I whispered.

Ginny leaned down and pressed a kiss to my brow. “If anyone will figure all this out and set things right, it will be you,” she whispered. “I have faith in that.”

I wanted to smile reassuringly, but I still felt as though I might die.

I did not, however, and life, confusing life, continued.



TBC...