Stormwalker

A/N: I am sorry for not adding another chapter for so long. I have been continent jumping and my muse has been sleeping. So this chapter is extra long. *prays for forgiveness*

Chapter 5: Tear-Stained Rain

The furious grey clouds that hovered over Hogwarts were but the first omen of the dark day that was about to unfold.

But every storm has an end.


Sorrow crept into many a face as Dumbledore delivered the tragic news of yet another bombing instigated my Voldemort. This one had taken twice as many lives as the last attack.

Hermione was sickened by all this meaningless death and left her food uneaten. She looked up and realized Professor Lunax wasn’t there again. He never was. Perhaps he’s a vampire, she mused, without guessing at the accuracy of her thoughts.

Harry tapped Hermione out of her train of thought, and she stood, shaking her head to clear her mind.

“Sure you don’t want anything more to eat?” Said Ron, exchanging a look with Harry.

She noticed an raised an eyebrow before smiling, “Guys, I’m fine. Let’s get to class.”

They nodded and as the trio left the Great Hall Hermione yelped a little as a hand caught her arm. Ron and Harry whirled around, faces contorted with anger. The boys instantly sobered at the sight of a stern Professor McGonagall.

“Ms. Granger, will you please come with me?”

Some of the color drained out of Hermione’s face and she managed a weak nod.

Harry and Ron tried to follow but the Professor shook her head before walking Hermione down the hall and turning the corner. The boys stood there for an awkward, silent moment before running to class.


Hermione and Professor McGonagall walked into Dumbledore’s office. Neither of them had said anything the entire way save McGonagall’s utterance of the new, candy-themed password. The Headmaster smiled weakly behind his halfßmoon spectacles.

“Thank you for bringing her here, Minerva.”

McGonagall nodded and left the room. Hermione could swear the woman had wiped a tear from her eye. But seeing how she felt like bursting into tears at the moment, that didn’t seem so strange.
“Hermione…I-. I’m sorry, but your parents were killed in the bombing this morning.”

She gasped as her worst fears bloomed into existence, like a sickly black flower within her heart. Hermione was so shocked that she couldn’t even bring herself to wipe the salty torrent of tears from her face.

Dumbledore continued, although his voice was a touch lower, weighed down with sadness. “We found out about the attack too late to get your father and mother to safety, and Professor Snape informed me that your parents’ death was the sole purpose of this latest massacre. The fact that he was not informed proves that he is not trusted. You have my greatest and deepest sympathies. They were amazing people whose lives have been cut drastically short.”

He handed her a handkerchief which she took with a tear-stained, shell-shocked nod. This can’t be happening!, her mind screamed as she saw her world turn into a miniscule, shrieking, thing.

“Should I have someone escort you to your room, Hermione? You are in no shape for class. I shall have one of the portraits inform messires Potter and Weasley of your current condition and situation.”

Hermione nodded again and stood, shaking.


She lay on the bed in her Head Girl quarters, shuddering with nightmarish dreams that seemed to blur the fragile lines of reality. Her eyes snapped open, her sheets and pillow drenched from her never-ending tears.

How many hours she had been asleep she didn’t know, but she looked out the solitary window and was greeted by glinting, emotionless, stars.

Hermione turned around and saw the mirror that had been there since her arrival. Suddenly her pale, death-like face twisted in a horrible rage.

She slammed her fist into the glass with all of her strength. Shards exploded all over the room with the first blow, cutting into her arms, robes, and face. But she didn’t care. Hermione destroyed the mirror and relished the release of sorrow as the glass brought deep crimson to the surface.


A roar of pain and shock rang through the deep dungeons of the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom as Professor Lunax saw and felt deep cuts appear on his face and arms.

Panic erupted throughout the class and he yelled ‘class dismissed!’ before stumbling over to a chair and sitting down.

The wounds began to heal quickly for he was one of the undead, but Gabriel knew that the one who had accidentally created these injuries would not heal as fast as him. He assumed this was her violent reaction to the news of her parents’ death. That struck a chord deep within him.

He got up so quickly the chair slammed into the floor and broke, but Gabriel did not see it as he was running as fast as he could towards Gryffindor Tower.


Hermione heard hurried footsteps coming in her direction and snarled, assuming one of the girls had been listening to the racket she had caused and was coming to investigate.

Fuck them, she growled,they don’t know what this is like.

She kneeled in the bloody glass, her body and robes ruined.

“I’ll change when I feel like it, and I can heal-”

“Can you Hermione? Is that true?”

Her head snapped up and Hermione picked up a handful of glass to pelt at the intruder. But she dropped it as she looked into the eyes of Professor Lunax. Hermione struggled to keep her face enraged.

“I can if I damn well please.” She forced out as she stood, the sane half of her appalled. Not only because he was a teacher, but also because of her feelings for him.

“I-” Hermione almost collapsed to the floor but Gabriel caught her in his muscled arms. She felt all of her weight drop into his grip and repressed a shudder, looking deep into the eternally shifting eyes. Flashes of her fantasies juxtaposed over her vision.

She heard him whisper calming nothings into her ear, and Hermione buried her head in his shoulder, feeling the tears coming back. She almost jumped out of his grasp as she saw a bunch of new scars identical to the cuts on her arms decorating his face and neck.

“Profe!” s!” she exclaimed in shock, “Are you okay?!”

He let her down slowly, and she reluctantly let go of him, backing away and hearing the crunch of glass and seeing more scars all over his arms. His chest and upper arms were covered by a matte black t-shirt that clung to his body, hiding any other injuries.

“What did I do?” Her voice steadily rose in pitch and volume with each word.

He silenced her by putting a finger to his lips. “Hermione, don’t worry. I can heal more quickly than anyone I imagine you know. Look at my arms ag”
”

Hermione took a glance at his arms and her brown eyes widened. She was going to have a heart attack at 17 if things like this kept going on.

The scars were gone.

Every inch of his body was as flawless as before.

“H-” She quieted when Gabriel shook his head.

“I have many secrets Hermione, and that is one I will not reveal tonight. You have had enough shocks for one day. I came because I have no wish for you to be harmed. Hermione, just look at what you’ve done to yourself.”

She did, and at once wanted to be cleansed. Not only of the blood and tattered robes, but of the anger that had burrowed it’s way into her heart.

“I know what you’re going through. My parents were murdered when I was 14, Hermione. I saw their bodies. The image has never left my mind.”

“My god, that’s horrible. I can’t imagine that kind of pain.”

“Don’t. I just want you to trust me.”

“I do, Professor.”

“Call me Gabriel, Hermione.”

“Why?” Her tone had turned slightly suspicious.

“Because I trust you.”

Oh.She stepped forward and opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out as Gabriel took a step towards her as well. Hermione realized he was beautiful, not handsome. He was perfect, his skin like flawless alabaster. Gabriel was like a living statue, and statues were not handsome.

He was close enough that only an intimate inch separated their faces. Hermione was having a little trouble breathing normally. Gabriel didn’t seem to be breathing at all.

“Don’t make me forget this time.” She whispered.

His wondrous eyes widened and Hermione wished that she had been silent.

“How did you know?”

“When I woke up, I remember everything that happened. But I don’t care.” #

She paused and smiled.

“Were you scared?”

He scowled a little bit at that thought. “Of what?”

“That I would hate you for kissing me?”

“Do you?” His voice sounded a little vulnerable, wounded, a welcome imperfection in the marble of the sculpture he was.

“No, never.”
Their lips pressed together as soon as that last word passed her lips. She slid her arms around his neck as their tongues duelled, and Hermione’s knees felt weak. Gabriel pulled her closer, holding her like she was his last anchor to the world.

They pulled away slowly, and her breathing was slightly ragged from the intensity of the kiss. Hermione shuddered a little.

“Please,” she whispered, “Stay with me tonight.”

He cradled her face in his strangely cold hands, and kissed her chastely on the lips.

“Oh, mon belle ange, I wish I could. But tomorrow I shall see you, and perhaps we could talk. Is that alright with you?”

Hermione’s heart swelled with joy and she nodded. Gabriel grinned wickedly, a young mischief lighting up his chiselled features.

“Don’t forget. And remember, this is but the beginning.”

With that, it seemed that he disappeared in a blur, the door closing softly behind him.

Hermione sat on the bed and smiled, looking out the window once more. It had just begun to rain. Her soul was heavy with sorrow, but now she felt that she had the confidence and strength to get through it.

She stripped herself of her shredded clothes and repaired the mirror with a flick of her wand, looking at her nude body in the reflective glass. Hermione whispered a healing spell and watched the wo clo close, leaving her with no scars. Then she settled under the sheets and closed her eyes.

“Goodnight, Gabriel.”

My beautiful stormwalker.