Deliciously So... (Editing)

Surprises.

“When good people in any country cease their vigilance and struggle, then Evil will prevail.”
Pearl S. Buck

She awoke in a dark room and found herself naked, tied to a bed and gagged with a black silk sash; she was all alone. She heard a voice she couldn’t recognize at first, and a black clad figure emerged from the shadows. He took off his cloak, long blond hair almost glowing in the darkness, identity unmistakeable: Lucius Malfoy.

He approached her with an animalistic growl. Then, climbing onto the bed and straddling her, he pulled out a long silver knife and pressed the blade to her collarbone, piercing her flesh. She struggled desperately against her bindings, but to no avail. Warm blood was trickling down to her breasts, which he lapped up with his tongue, biting and breaking her skin. Parting her thighs, he brutally thrust into her.

Blood, pain, screams, and then darkness.

Hermione Granger woke up screaming.

“Hermione, you alright?” She heard a worried voice behind her door.

“Yes, I’m fine Harry… Just a nightmare.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m alright, don’t worry. Go back to sleep.”

“As long as you’re sure…‘Night.”

“Good night.”

Looking at the little clock on her bedside table, she saw it was three in the morning. She groaned and headed towards the little table in the middle of the room to pour herself a glass of water. She sipped it slowly and started to walk towards the window.

Just a nightmare, she thought. The same I have been having for two weeks, ever since I met him... She had been haunted for days with thought of what he could have done to her.

Gazing out of the window, she watched the moon appear from behind the clouds. They had found this B&B by chance the day before, not knowing where else they could stay. It had been a month since they had been on the move. Not telling anyone in the Order their plan, the three adolescents had decided to abandon their last year of schooling, as going back to Hogwarts after Dumbledore’s death and Snape’s betrayal would have been too hard. Of course they weren’t even sure it would be open that year. Harry, Ron and Hermione had left the Burrow the day after Bill and Fleur’s wedding. She had left Crookshanks with Ginny, knowing the cat would be nothing more than a hindrance to their movements. They had been Apparating all over the Britain, searching for Horcruxes, working for money, and waiting for news concerning the activities of Voldemort and his Death Eaters now that their main adversary, Albus Dumbledore, had been eliminated.

Hermione found her room most distasteful, as it reminded her very much of Dolores Umbridge’s office when she had been at Hogwarts. The walls were pink, there were lacy doilies on all the furniture, dried flowers in vases, and little statuettes of kittens playing littered over almost every available surface. Fortunately there aren’t any of those ghastly ornamental plates…or technicolor kittens! Honestly, who could be so sick and without any aesthetic sense whatsoever as to make them?

She decided to get one of her books and read until sleep overtook her. Sighing, she walked over to her bag and took out a cardboard box. Taking the box with her, she sat on the bed and emptied the contents onto the bedspread. The box contained at least fifty books, all shrunken down to the size of postage stamps. Picking one of them up, she placed it besides her and put the others back in the box, closing the lid.

“Engorgio,” she whispered, pointing her wand at the book, which instantly regained its original size.

“What would I do without magic?” she smiled. She had bought all the textbooks they would have used during their final year at school, not wanting their, and most importantly her, education to be incomplete. And obviously, she had bought many other books she thought would be useful in preparing for the difficult tasks that awaited her and her friends.

Opening the enormous book, she started whizzing through the pages. Even Hermione agreed the tome was not exactly bedtime reading, however they needed to know how to withstand dangerous creatures such as giants and Inferi. From what the volume said, Inferi could be repelled with fire, but she had not yet found a way of completely destroying them. Whilst she tried to find something useful to fit her purpose, she could not help thinking back to the first day of their departure…

---

The first place they had stopped off at was the Dursleys’, and though it had not been the most cordial of visits, in its own way it had been an eye-opener.

She had insisted they telephoned the Muggles beforehand, thinking it to be rude to turn up unexpected, and had agreed to meet half an hour later at Number 4 Privet Drive. What the Dursleys had obviously not been expecting was for them to Apparate into their hallway. Consequently, the trio’s arrival was met with screams from Aunt Petunia and Dudley and the beetroot-red face of Uncle Vernon.

When their respective cries of fear and shouts of anger had subsided, they were left with a very uncomfortable, but welcome, silence. Harry explained all that had occurred in the wizarding world in the past year, including the death of his former Headmaster. Ron took the opportunity to look at all the strange Muggle things dotted around the Dursleys’ living room, pointing and asking questions, causing Hermione to hiss at him to shut up. Hermione had to admit she felt quite uncomfortable with Dudley staring at her as if he had never seen a girl before. In trying to avoid the boy’s uncomfortable gaze, she noticed that Mrs Dursley appeared to be scrutinising Ron’s tatty second-hand clothes with narrowed eyes. Looking over to her friend, she realised that the woman was actually glaring at the dirt he had on his nose. Hermione quickly took out her wand and performed ‘Scourgify’ on him.

“Honestly, Ron, it looks as if you find personal hygiene a foreign concept.”

“I don’t see what the problem is.”

It wasn’t until she turned to see the Dursleys’ faces that she realised her mistake. Damn… I keep forgetting these people hate magic. Hate magic was a bit of an understatement, seeing as they were looking at her as though she had just admitted to being a leper.

“She did magic!”

“Well, yes, Uncle Vernon. That’s what you do if you’re a witch.”

“But you can’t do magic outside of that school!”

“We’re of age now. We can do magic almost anywhere now. Anyway, as I was trying to explain, we are not going back to Hogwarts this year. There may not even be a school to go back to. Look, right now Voldemort…” He shot a look at Ron, who had flinched. “… is at war with most of the wizarding community. He and his followers find it amusing to torture and murder Muggles, that means normal people, like you.”

The Dursleys looked at him with a mixture of shock and terror on their faces.

“B-but why would those nutters come here?”

“Why not? It doesn’t really matter who you are; being Muggles, you should be purged from the world,” he said with distaste. “And you’re also related to me, so they could try to use you as bait.”

“That is preposterous!” Mr. Dursley cried, jumping to his feet. “You were forced upon us! We want nothing to do with you! We—”

“Are in danger.” Harry interrupted heatedly. “Listen to me, it’s fairly simple. If you stay here, you will die.”

“I can defend my own family!”

“Uncle Vernon, you remember how you coped with Hagrid years ago? And he was harmless.”

The large man reddened at the thought, his moustache quivering.

Aunt Petunia finally seemed to have found her voice “But where could we go? We can’t just leave.”

“That is precisely what you must do.”

“Must, boy?”

“If you are captured, I can’t save you.” Harry said quietly.

“Vernon,” Mrs. Dursley said urgently, “maybe we should listen to him.”

“Yes, Dad. What if he’s right?” Dudley asked, terrified at the thought.

“Quiet, everyone! I need to think!” he shouted, before starting to pace around the crowded room. “You say that we are in danger if we stay in this house. In our house.”

“Yes,” the boy confirmed.

“And how can we be any safer out there? I have people to protect, boy!”

“If you want to protect them, then you had better go!” Harry said, starting to loose his calm.

“We can’t just leave! What of our affairs? My job? Dudley’s schooling?”

“I can’t believe you’re thinking about that now! Don’t you realise what ‘war’ means?!”

“Don’t you dare use that tone with me!”

Harry was about to reply when Ron nudged him, which was enough to bring him back to his senses. After exhaling slowly, he tried once more “Uncle Vernon, please, listen to me. I know you’ve never liked me, and you probably never will, but please trust me at least this once. Pack your bags, just the indispensable items,” he added, looking at his cousin, “and go to Ms. Figg’s—”

“Ms. Figg? Why should we go to her?!” He stopped abruptly as comprehension dawned on his face, his beady eyes widening. “She’s not one of… one of you, is she?!”

“Well, not exactly. I mean she can’t do magic, but she is a witch.”

“And all those years we sent you there!” he exclaimed in horror.

“I only found out recently. What does it matter now? Just go to her and tell her I sent you. You can leave letters for anyone who may worry about your absence, saying that you’re going on a long holiday. The others will make sure you’ll find a comfortable place; they’ll help you find a job and everything. That should be it.” Turning to his two friends on the settee. “Shall we?”

“Ready when you are, mate,” Ron said.

“Erm, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Hermione said, nodding to the Dursleys.

“Goodbye then. Have a good life.” The three Muggles just stood staring at their retreating backs as they walked to the front door.

“Harry, don’t you want to say anything else?” the brunette asked worriedly.

“What’s the point, Hermione? There’s no love lost between us. And if they do as I’ve asked, they’ll have their memories modified: they won’t remember anything at all.”

No sooner had they shut the door behind them that a loud scuffling could be heard, along with a loud voice barking instructions such as “… not that one, Petunia! You can’t fit a thing in that! The big one! The big one!”

“Something tells me they’re going to follow your advice.” Ron smiled.


From Privet Drive, they had gone to Godric’s Hollow to visit the tomb of Harry’s parents.

What remained of the Potter’s cottage had been in ruins and covered by a thick coat of ivy. The three of them walked through the silent village until they reached the churchyard and continued through the rows of graves, searching for that one name. After a while, they found a great oak tree; amidst its roots were two white lilies and a single, small, marble tombstone that read:

James Potter, born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981
Lily Potter, born 30 January 1960, died 31 October 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

Apparently, someone had charmed the tombstone so neither enemies nor unknowing Muggles couldn’t desecrate it and the flowers would remain forever in bloom.

Hermione looked up to see tears glistening in her friend’s emerald eyes, and tugging on Ron’s sleeve, they left him alone with his thoughts and memories. They sat waiting for him at the gates, sombre and in silence, until he joined them, his whole being aflame, as if animated with some newfound purpose. Hermione realised then that he would do all that he could to see the end of his nemesis, though she could not tell if it would be for salvation or revenge.

---

Poor Harry. He is too young to have to face such a task, she thought as her eyes closed and sleep enveloped her.


She awoke at seven, and after getting washed and dressed, she walked down to the breakfast room, sitting down at the table reserved for her and her friends. The Housekeeper came bustling in and asked her what she wanted. Having ordered a pot of tea and a cooked breakfast, she sat looking around the room, noticing with displeasure that this too was done in a style reminiscent of Umbridge.

As she was presented with her breakfast and wondering just how long she should wait before waking up the boys, a paper boy came bounding in, announcing the story of the century. The Housekeeper came hurrying into the room, yelling at the small boy for disturbing her guests.

“I’m sorry, Ms., but the paper—”

“It is not civil to come barging in here like a barbarian!”

“But the headline—” he insisted, waving it in front of her nose.

“What? What’s the headline?”

Thrusting one of the papers in her hand, he turned to look at her with a satisfied grin as she began reading excitedly. “How could it have happened?”

“’Dunno… But what is for certain, that ain’t no heart attack!”

His purpose achieved, he started walking out of the room. As he passed her table, Hermione called to him. “I don’t suppose I could have a paper too?”

“If you gimme a quid you can.”

Taking her purse out of her pocket, she handed him a pound in return for the paper and another one as a tip. His eyes lit up. She just winked at him.

“Thank you, miss!” he said, before running out the room in search of more customers.

Hermione smiled and, taking a sip of her tea, opened her paper only to choke as soon as she saw the headline.

PM DEAD IN OFFICE
CAUSE YET UNKNOWN
PAGAN HOLOGRAM OVERHEAD

The Muggle community seemed to have mistaken the symbol for something satanic; but no witch or wizard could possibly do the same. Over the rooftops floated the eerie image of a green skull with a snake coming out of its mouth: the Dark Mark.

She ran upstairs and knocked violently on the boys’ door.

“Harry! Ron!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” came a grumpy voice from the other side of the door. As soon as it opened, she bound inside.

“Hermione, what’s up?” a worried Ron asked from behind her.

Whipping her wand out, she just pointed it behind her and set a silencing charm on the door

“Hey, be careful where you point that thing!”

“Shut up, Ron!”

“What is happening here?” Harry asked, coming out of the bathroom.

“Harry, Ron! They’ve done it!”

“What?”

Loosing all patience, she threw the paper at Harry who took one quick look and paled instantly. Ron, who had walked up behind him so he could read over his shoulder, looked up incredulously. “This means...”

“Yes, this is now open war. There shall be proper battles next.” Hermione answered with a small voice.

“What are we going to do?” Harry asked, looking at the floor.

“You mean, are we going to return to HQ?”

He nodded.

“Well… that is really up to you, Harry.” He looked at her.

“Hermione’s right, Harry. We’ll following you whatever you decide.”

“I need to think. You need to think. I can’t decide for everyone.”

“But—”

“No, Ron! Do not place your lives in my hands!”

“Look you two, go and have some breakfast, and then come back up so we can discuss it, ok?”

“Yeah… Alright.” Filing silently out of the room, the boys headed down the stairs whilst Hermione went to her own room.

While Muggles would remain mystified at the sudden death of their Prime Minister, wizards would know at once who and why it had been done. And this would only make them more terrified then they already were.

Something had to be done. Finding the missing Horcruxes was the only real chance they had for winning the war, and they had to do so urgently or there was no telling how many would perish. After conquering Britain, it would not be long before Voldemort spread his reign of terror over the rest of the world: none would be spared.

She heard a knock on her door and opened it to find Harry and Ron standing there. Letting them in, she closed the door and conjured two extra chairs for them to sit on. Taking a deep breath, Harry started to talk.

After many hours, they had finally come to an agreement. They would continue their search for the remaining treasures of the Founders of Hogwarts, and if they heard of one more attack, just one more, they would immediately Apparate to HQ and ask for help from the other members of the Order.

It started raining outside so, just for that day, they decided to give it a rest. Hermione read a book on Rowena Ravenclaw, wondering what her treasure could be, while Harry and Ron practiced wordless magic.

Around lunchtime, Harry clapped his hand to his head and started laughing. Fearing that he had suddenly gone mad, the other two looked at him with alarm.

“Honestly, you two! Oh, Hermione, we forgot what day it was today!”

“Come again?”

“Look at the paper,” he said, grinning and pointing to the date above the headline.

“The 19th of September,” she muttered softly, “It’s my birthday…”

“Damn right it is!” Ron said, grinning.

“I’m eighteen!” she chuckled.

“And here’s your present!” Harry said, handing her a light-coloured parcel.

Opening it, she gasped: a periwinkle blue silk scarf and gloves came out. “Harry, they’re wonderful! Thank you!”

“I thought that colour suited you.” He winked.

“And here is my present,” Ron said from behind her.

Looking around, she saw that he too was holding a wrapped parcel. She opened it slowly. “Oh, Ron!” There was a pair of silver earrings with little blue orbs hanging underneath, and the orbs seemed to be glowing. “Is that… ?”

“Fairy dust: should bring good luck. Let’s see you wearing ‘em.”

Smiling, she put the earrings in her ears and the scarf around her neck.

“They suit you,” Harry commented.

“Yeah, you really look nice,” Ron blurted out.

“Oh, thanks!” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Anytime,” he mumbled, his ears turning red.

“Time for lunch… Shall we?”

“Yes, you two go ahead. I’ll just put my gifts away.”

“Right. See you down there.” Closing the door behind them, she crossed to the mirror on her chest of drawers and determined that she did indeed look nice.

Hermione put the scarf and gloves in her bag and the earrings back in their case. She turned around and was about to exit the room when she noticed a flower on her bed. It was a single white rose.

“How beautiful,” she murmured, and crossing the room once again, she reached out for the flower. But as soon as her fingers touched the stem, she felt a strange yet familiar feeling of having a hook tug just behind her navel, and she felt wind rushing past her. As soon as it had started, it stopped. Opening her eyes, she found herself in a completely different room. It appeared to be a mansion, of sorts, based on the scale of the chamber and the old-fashioned yet expensive furnishings. The mere size of the place was dumbfounding. Looking around, she noticed a fireplace, flames crackling away, engraved with a serpent.

She had a horrible suspicion she knew where she was, but prayed she was wrong. Her blood chilled when she heard a soft voice behind her, confirming her suspicions. “Happy birthday, Miss Granger.”

---

Author’s Note: I just wanted to point out that the timeline is slightly different to Deathly Hallows. Hermione’s birthday is on the 19th of September, but I moved the wedding date, instead of just after Harry’s Birthday in July, to round about the end of August. Being an Alternate Universe, I have put in some elements that are present in the seventh book, whilst others I have changed. Thanks for reading.

Ophelia