Screams and Whispers
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Hermione/Charlie
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
7,315
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Hermione/Charlie
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
7,315
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own the fandom of Harry Potter nor any of the characters. I do NOT make money from this fic
Chapter 2
Author Note: I do not have a beta for this story. If you are interested please contact me, but otherwise I'm REALLy sorry for the mistakes that slip past both me and my word processor.
Walking down the stairs of her new muggle home, Carroll Louise Kennedy fought back the look of utter despair that so often worked its way onto her face. She took the steps slowly, measuring her breathing and counting each step as she took it. Thinking over the same chant that she had repeated since she moved into her home. Seven months, one week, five days. She repeated it over and over again, reaching the bottom of the stairs she wrote the same phrase down on a sticky pad of paper. Tearing it off the pad and sticking it onto a shrinking space on the wall next to it. It was the routine. Wake up at seven oh five. Shower. Get dressed in grey jogging bottoms, beige running shoes, grey tee shirt and tan hoodie. Walk downstairs. Write on wall. Make coffee. Go for a run. Come home. Make coffee … fill the day with mind numbing chores that would pass the day. Eat. Continue chores. Eat. Chores. Shower. Sleep.
Every day was the same. Every night she knocked herself out with the strongest over the counter sleeping pills. Dreaming nothing and forgetting day by day little bits of knowledge that would cause her upset. Some days she would look normal, she would venture outside and dye her hair again. Now long, straight and ruby red. Her lips kept pale with a nude lipstick and her cheeks relatively without blush. She needed to dye her hair. She needed to look different. That was why there had been such a dramatic weight los. It made her look gaunt, anorexic even. Her height however benefiting as she grew perhaps a couple of inches.
It had been surprisingly easy in the beginning she found. There was not questions when she contacted the muggle registrars and changed her name. No questions asked when she made a very large lump sum of money deposited into one of their muggle banks. No question when the woman suddenly procured a house that belonged once to that nice Granger family that moved to Australia. No. It had been far too simple for Hermione Jean Granger to drop off the face of the earth entirely. While never having to move more than three miles from where she knew all her problems could surface.
Some days she was adventurous. Running past the empty end of the road where she knew hid some of the most powerful people in Britain. Wondering only once in the beginning if they were still looking for her. After that she put the thought out of her head. Seven months, one week, five days. Seven months, one week, five days since she left the Order. Seven months, one week, five days since she woke up. Given the date her other total that she wrote when she went to bed was Eleven months, two weeks, four days. Eleven months, two weeks four days since her wand was crunched under the foot of a sociopath psychopath. Eleven months, two weeks, four days since she gave up hope of ever being a normal woman again. A witch.
She was no longer the bushy haired know-it-all Mudblood. No. Now she was a muggle. One who no matter how hard she tried studying other subjects could not rid her mind of the countless spells she had learned over her years in that horrifying place. That home where everyone claimed to have loved. Hermione had always hated it. It meant that she really was the person everyone made her out to be. Someone who was not worth saving and who ultimately was not even important enough to be killed; merely tortured. That was by far, surprisingly one of the worst things to come to terms with. Normally the muggle borns were killed, but she was kept alive. She was not even any use to them dead. Bo use to anyone.
Carroll Louise Kennedy was alone in the world.
Pop “Hey! Mum! Dad! I’m home! Anyone around?” The rugged accented voice of the second eldest Weasley echoed through Grimmauld place was cheery. Much unlike the mood of everyone in the building. Fred and George had moved out and taken residency above their shop in Diagon Alley due to the constant dark cloud hanging over the once lively Order HQ. There was a perpetual shadow now, lurking in every corner. Keeping everyone on their toes. Without their Brightest Witch they were weak in case anything came around again. “Hello?”
“Oh! Charlie dear! We’re in the Kitchen.” Came the voice of his mother from the back room, down a couple of steps and through a small door not big enough for most of the occupants. The room however itself was far taller, wider to accommodate the amount of occupants of the building. “Come on dear.” With a chuckle the red haired boy walked through the door to join his family. Almost all of them huddled around the table in the middle of the room. His mother bustling about busily, her hair a tangled mess and his father sitting with the daily prophet. Mumbling to himself as he searched the tiny print for something … anything. His brothers he saw where missing in numbers, Bill and Fleur of course with their baby were sitting there only for a months visit, celebrating the elder Weasleys birthday. Percy he saw sitting upright and poxy in the corner of the table, his work placed neatly (analy if one were to ask Charlie) on the table, Fred and Weasley were showing Victoire some of their newest toys. While Fleur was berating them for their influence. However, it was the three in the middle that caught his eye. Harry and Ron were sitting with a girl, but it was Ginny. “Happy birthday brother!” The dragon tamer greeted, handing the elder Weasley a brown paper and string wrapped package. During his latest stint in Romania he had gathered some old runic stones lying around the reserve. One of the keepers told him they were rare enough and said if he put the hours in he’d let the man keep them.
Who was he to neglect his brother his favourite little rocks? “Where’s the lioness?” He asked cheerfully. His slightly scarred face scanning the room again, listening for any sound of her nosey, bosey tone of voice as she reprimanded him for the nickname he had given her during her fifth year. However the reaction was not one he expected to get. The faces around the table dropped and Ginny burst into tears, leaning into Harry for comfort and finding the man who lived equally misty eyed behind his foggy glasses. It was such an odd reaction that on instinct the red haired dragon tamer stepped back toward the door. He never did well when Ginny cried. “What? I was just asking? Gin, she hurt you?” He asked, surprised. Wondering how the little spitfire could do anything so bad as to make his tomboyish baby sister cry
“Charlie … ‘Mione’s gone.”
“I can see that. Where?”
“W…we do-don’t knooow!” The little red haired girl wept. Burying her face in her husbands shoulder. Her heavily pregnant body heaving under her sobbing as her hormones went crazy with upset and hurt. She was still missing her best friend terribly. She never got over how she simply up and left, running away from the world! And no-one could trace her magical signature or find her current address. There couldn’t be that many Hermione’s in the world! Let alone ones her age!
However, the dragon tamers face did not show the upset that was reflected on almost all of the other faces. Spare Fleur, who had her constantly smug expression. Stupid bint that she was. “What d’you mean; ‘you don’t know!’” He growled. His fist by his side clenching ever so slightly. It was no secret that Charlie had a soft spot for the normally picked on Hermione. To his brothers it was also no secret that he had began looking at her more as a woman than as his brothers best mate. So how did they not know where his little lioness had run along to. “’as she gone out f’r shoppin‘? ‘as she been gone a few days? A week mibbe?” He voice was tense and laced with a worry that probably should have been out of line.
“Over Seven months Charlie … She left the same day as you.” The calm rational voice of Remus Lupin spoke from the hallway behind him. The war had spared his life thankfully, it being by his hand that Fenrir Greyback met his end. Beside him came the clumsy wife of his, pulling in front of her a sprouting baby Teddy. “she woke up very confused and one of the new Aurors spoke out of turn. And she just left. She started running before we could figure out where she was going; she knows the roads better than us. We were lost. But she hasn’t been registering her magic since so we can’t even track her.” He said mournfully, regretting the loss of a very good companion in the library and someone who very kindly had been his close companion on the days up to a full moon. Sitting with him while he drank his foul Wolfsbane. Never once speaking out of turn or getting him upset. And only once coming too close, but only in an accident trying to find a book. She had been wearing a very nice perfume that day. It had been intoxicating. “I’m sorry.” He said regretfully, putting a hand on the red heads shoulder before wishing Bill a many happy returns and watching as his son toddled over to the curse breaker with a small gift in his hand.
“I think she’s dead.” Came the voice of Ronald. Followed swiftly by a loud smack as the back of his head was assaulted by a frantic looking molly wielding a frying pan in the air. “what!?” He asked incredulously, returning once again to the meal in front of him. Obviously heartbroken at the loss of his friend.
With a growl, Charlie pushed aside the werewolf and his wife ignoring the howling screeches of his mother as he left the room in a huff. He was far beyond ever caring when she yelled after him in times like these. He Hadn’t followed one of her orders since he turned seventeen and got an internship in Romania. He huffed again as he reached the front door of Grimmauld Place. Stopping as he swung open the door to step outside as he watched a muggle jogging past the front of the house. The rule being that the house was invisible to the outside world. Protecting it from enemy sides and from surprise attacks.
Or at least it should have been invisible.
Yet the red haired woman stopped short of being directly in front of the door. Looking almost right into the house. Her eyes a colour he instantly recognised, but connected to a body he had never before seen. It was only when the woman gave a disgruntled huff and her brows knitted together that the Weasley brother breathed out a name she had long since used. “Hermione?” His voice thick with an emotion that shocked even him. Forgetting momentarily that the wards around the house did not protect noise from outside the front door.
Her face was one of shock and fear. He must have spooked her, saying a name aloud when one was invisible to the naked eye would spook anyone. But unlike others who would investigate a familiar flash in those all too knowing eyes was enough to force her retreating from the house. Slipping off the edge of the pavement, causing her to squeak, her face falling into a look of panic as she about turned and began running in the direction she had came from. Her hair flying behind her in a curtain of red not like his. But a simple run wasn’t going to stop Charlie. If he was crazy then he would admit it and return. But the woman had obviously reacted to the name.
Casting a Disillusion charm on himself he waited for the egg being cracked on his head feeling to pass before he shot off after the woman. His wand tucked into its holder on his side as his long legs made steady progress on the pavement. Thumping up behind the girl. Almost able to reach her when she shot off at an incredible pace. He wouldn’t give up. Shouting out desperately to her he prayed she would turn. “Little Dragon!”
Walking down the stairs of her new muggle home, Carroll Louise Kennedy fought back the look of utter despair that so often worked its way onto her face. She took the steps slowly, measuring her breathing and counting each step as she took it. Thinking over the same chant that she had repeated since she moved into her home. Seven months, one week, five days. She repeated it over and over again, reaching the bottom of the stairs she wrote the same phrase down on a sticky pad of paper. Tearing it off the pad and sticking it onto a shrinking space on the wall next to it. It was the routine. Wake up at seven oh five. Shower. Get dressed in grey jogging bottoms, beige running shoes, grey tee shirt and tan hoodie. Walk downstairs. Write on wall. Make coffee. Go for a run. Come home. Make coffee … fill the day with mind numbing chores that would pass the day. Eat. Continue chores. Eat. Chores. Shower. Sleep.
Every day was the same. Every night she knocked herself out with the strongest over the counter sleeping pills. Dreaming nothing and forgetting day by day little bits of knowledge that would cause her upset. Some days she would look normal, she would venture outside and dye her hair again. Now long, straight and ruby red. Her lips kept pale with a nude lipstick and her cheeks relatively without blush. She needed to dye her hair. She needed to look different. That was why there had been such a dramatic weight los. It made her look gaunt, anorexic even. Her height however benefiting as she grew perhaps a couple of inches.
It had been surprisingly easy in the beginning she found. There was not questions when she contacted the muggle registrars and changed her name. No questions asked when she made a very large lump sum of money deposited into one of their muggle banks. No question when the woman suddenly procured a house that belonged once to that nice Granger family that moved to Australia. No. It had been far too simple for Hermione Jean Granger to drop off the face of the earth entirely. While never having to move more than three miles from where she knew all her problems could surface.
Some days she was adventurous. Running past the empty end of the road where she knew hid some of the most powerful people in Britain. Wondering only once in the beginning if they were still looking for her. After that she put the thought out of her head. Seven months, one week, five days. Seven months, one week, five days since she left the Order. Seven months, one week, five days since she woke up. Given the date her other total that she wrote when she went to bed was Eleven months, two weeks, four days. Eleven months, two weeks four days since her wand was crunched under the foot of a sociopath psychopath. Eleven months, two weeks, four days since she gave up hope of ever being a normal woman again. A witch.
She was no longer the bushy haired know-it-all Mudblood. No. Now she was a muggle. One who no matter how hard she tried studying other subjects could not rid her mind of the countless spells she had learned over her years in that horrifying place. That home where everyone claimed to have loved. Hermione had always hated it. It meant that she really was the person everyone made her out to be. Someone who was not worth saving and who ultimately was not even important enough to be killed; merely tortured. That was by far, surprisingly one of the worst things to come to terms with. Normally the muggle borns were killed, but she was kept alive. She was not even any use to them dead. Bo use to anyone.
Carroll Louise Kennedy was alone in the world.
Pop “Hey! Mum! Dad! I’m home! Anyone around?” The rugged accented voice of the second eldest Weasley echoed through Grimmauld place was cheery. Much unlike the mood of everyone in the building. Fred and George had moved out and taken residency above their shop in Diagon Alley due to the constant dark cloud hanging over the once lively Order HQ. There was a perpetual shadow now, lurking in every corner. Keeping everyone on their toes. Without their Brightest Witch they were weak in case anything came around again. “Hello?”
“Oh! Charlie dear! We’re in the Kitchen.” Came the voice of his mother from the back room, down a couple of steps and through a small door not big enough for most of the occupants. The room however itself was far taller, wider to accommodate the amount of occupants of the building. “Come on dear.” With a chuckle the red haired boy walked through the door to join his family. Almost all of them huddled around the table in the middle of the room. His mother bustling about busily, her hair a tangled mess and his father sitting with the daily prophet. Mumbling to himself as he searched the tiny print for something … anything. His brothers he saw where missing in numbers, Bill and Fleur of course with their baby were sitting there only for a months visit, celebrating the elder Weasleys birthday. Percy he saw sitting upright and poxy in the corner of the table, his work placed neatly (analy if one were to ask Charlie) on the table, Fred and Weasley were showing Victoire some of their newest toys. While Fleur was berating them for their influence. However, it was the three in the middle that caught his eye. Harry and Ron were sitting with a girl, but it was Ginny. “Happy birthday brother!” The dragon tamer greeted, handing the elder Weasley a brown paper and string wrapped package. During his latest stint in Romania he had gathered some old runic stones lying around the reserve. One of the keepers told him they were rare enough and said if he put the hours in he’d let the man keep them.
Who was he to neglect his brother his favourite little rocks? “Where’s the lioness?” He asked cheerfully. His slightly scarred face scanning the room again, listening for any sound of her nosey, bosey tone of voice as she reprimanded him for the nickname he had given her during her fifth year. However the reaction was not one he expected to get. The faces around the table dropped and Ginny burst into tears, leaning into Harry for comfort and finding the man who lived equally misty eyed behind his foggy glasses. It was such an odd reaction that on instinct the red haired dragon tamer stepped back toward the door. He never did well when Ginny cried. “What? I was just asking? Gin, she hurt you?” He asked, surprised. Wondering how the little spitfire could do anything so bad as to make his tomboyish baby sister cry
“Charlie … ‘Mione’s gone.”
“I can see that. Where?”
“W…we do-don’t knooow!” The little red haired girl wept. Burying her face in her husbands shoulder. Her heavily pregnant body heaving under her sobbing as her hormones went crazy with upset and hurt. She was still missing her best friend terribly. She never got over how she simply up and left, running away from the world! And no-one could trace her magical signature or find her current address. There couldn’t be that many Hermione’s in the world! Let alone ones her age!
However, the dragon tamers face did not show the upset that was reflected on almost all of the other faces. Spare Fleur, who had her constantly smug expression. Stupid bint that she was. “What d’you mean; ‘you don’t know!’” He growled. His fist by his side clenching ever so slightly. It was no secret that Charlie had a soft spot for the normally picked on Hermione. To his brothers it was also no secret that he had began looking at her more as a woman than as his brothers best mate. So how did they not know where his little lioness had run along to. “’as she gone out f’r shoppin‘? ‘as she been gone a few days? A week mibbe?” He voice was tense and laced with a worry that probably should have been out of line.
“Over Seven months Charlie … She left the same day as you.” The calm rational voice of Remus Lupin spoke from the hallway behind him. The war had spared his life thankfully, it being by his hand that Fenrir Greyback met his end. Beside him came the clumsy wife of his, pulling in front of her a sprouting baby Teddy. “she woke up very confused and one of the new Aurors spoke out of turn. And she just left. She started running before we could figure out where she was going; she knows the roads better than us. We were lost. But she hasn’t been registering her magic since so we can’t even track her.” He said mournfully, regretting the loss of a very good companion in the library and someone who very kindly had been his close companion on the days up to a full moon. Sitting with him while he drank his foul Wolfsbane. Never once speaking out of turn or getting him upset. And only once coming too close, but only in an accident trying to find a book. She had been wearing a very nice perfume that day. It had been intoxicating. “I’m sorry.” He said regretfully, putting a hand on the red heads shoulder before wishing Bill a many happy returns and watching as his son toddled over to the curse breaker with a small gift in his hand.
“I think she’s dead.” Came the voice of Ronald. Followed swiftly by a loud smack as the back of his head was assaulted by a frantic looking molly wielding a frying pan in the air. “what!?” He asked incredulously, returning once again to the meal in front of him. Obviously heartbroken at the loss of his friend.
With a growl, Charlie pushed aside the werewolf and his wife ignoring the howling screeches of his mother as he left the room in a huff. He was far beyond ever caring when she yelled after him in times like these. He Hadn’t followed one of her orders since he turned seventeen and got an internship in Romania. He huffed again as he reached the front door of Grimmauld Place. Stopping as he swung open the door to step outside as he watched a muggle jogging past the front of the house. The rule being that the house was invisible to the outside world. Protecting it from enemy sides and from surprise attacks.
Or at least it should have been invisible.
Yet the red haired woman stopped short of being directly in front of the door. Looking almost right into the house. Her eyes a colour he instantly recognised, but connected to a body he had never before seen. It was only when the woman gave a disgruntled huff and her brows knitted together that the Weasley brother breathed out a name she had long since used. “Hermione?” His voice thick with an emotion that shocked even him. Forgetting momentarily that the wards around the house did not protect noise from outside the front door.
Her face was one of shock and fear. He must have spooked her, saying a name aloud when one was invisible to the naked eye would spook anyone. But unlike others who would investigate a familiar flash in those all too knowing eyes was enough to force her retreating from the house. Slipping off the edge of the pavement, causing her to squeak, her face falling into a look of panic as she about turned and began running in the direction she had came from. Her hair flying behind her in a curtain of red not like his. But a simple run wasn’t going to stop Charlie. If he was crazy then he would admit it and return. But the woman had obviously reacted to the name.
Casting a Disillusion charm on himself he waited for the egg being cracked on his head feeling to pass before he shot off after the woman. His wand tucked into its holder on his side as his long legs made steady progress on the pavement. Thumping up behind the girl. Almost able to reach her when she shot off at an incredible pace. He wouldn’t give up. Shouting out desperately to her he prayed she would turn. “Little Dragon!”