Finding Freedom

Hermione popped into the air in front of the burrow and braced herself against her trunk for a few moments. She didn’t know how she was going to explain her sudden appearance, but she supposed she would think of something. The Weasley’s would want to know what had happened. And if it had anything to do with Lucius Malfoy now being the number one most wanted delinquent on ministry hit lists. She couldn’t tell them what it had to do with that, of course. She was Hermione. Smart, strong, untouchable. So instead she needed a strategy.

But what would she say about the bruises? There would be so many questions. So much explaining. She wished she was back with Draco. He already understood. But his grief was monumental and she couldn’t face it while dealing with her own. She could barely face him. So she would knock on the door and be welcomed with open arms and there would be some explaining, but when it was done she could sit with Harry and Ron and it would all be good. Like it had been. Before the…incident. Before the Marriage Law.

Mrs. Weasley opened the door. The fierce hug was received but not returned. This was unnoticed. Led inside. Smiles everywhere.

And…begin.

“Oh Hermione! It’s so long since we’ve seen you, but look at you! Skin and bones and these bruises.. It wasn’t…”
“Hermione, we’ve been hearing things about Malfoy’s dad…is it…are you..?” She had decided this would be an appropriate time to burst into tears and therefore did so.
“Oh no, what did he do to you? Is he the reason for the bruises? We’ll kill him Hermione. We’ll skin him alive!”
“Oh God, it was awful. I walked in on him beating Narcissa and I tried to help her but then he started beating me and luckily Draco was there because he got rid of him and it was just awful.” She said through sobs. This version of events was roughly familiar. The lies ripped her throat as she spoke them but she could see grave acceptance on their faces and she knew that this was it. “I’d.. rather not talk about it…if you don’t mind…”

They all nodded. Her heart leapt. Something inside her uncoiled and she realised what it was…power. She’d just manipulated a room full of people. She had made them do exactly as she wanted. The power was a surge through her and it temporarily filled the emptiness. However, as soon as she felt the strong male arms around her, the feeling dissipated and she had the sudden urge to run. Every muscle in her body was tensed, but this went unnoticed yet again. Some part of her laughed inwardly. She would never get away with this with Draco, he would sense something was wrong. The true meaning of this revelation suddenly dawned on her and she choked. The arms hugged tighter. Then the motions began. Food was made and expected to be eaten, although she actually did away with hers using a clever enchantment one of Hogwarts’ non-eaters had taught her . Comforting smiles were on everyone’s faces. She smiled back bravely, every action fake. They eventually escaped dinner and her, Harry and Ron made their way upstairs to Ron’s room. They sat on the bed.

“I just can’t believe he would do that! I mean, I know he’s a nutter but…”
“Ron…” Harry warned, “Hermione says she doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“I just want to…move on, you know. I mean, it happened, now its over. So, what’s on tonight?”
“We have a choice between Lavender and Dean’s ‘Back to School’ party or Blaise Zabini’s ‘Why the Fuck are we Going Back to School?’ party.” Harry said. Hermione shuddered. They would not be going to that. Draco would be there.
“Why does he pretend to hate school, he’s a prefect, for fuck’s sake.” Ron said.
“Oh, you know Ron, its just part of his whole disaffected image. It matches his eyeliner. I assume we will not be attending that one?” Hermione inquired.
“Nah, Ron wants to go to Lavender’s ‘cause the weddings coming up and he doesn’t want to marry a virgin.”
“I never said that! I said I didn’t want to be a virgin!” Ron protested and then quickly turned red, realising Hermione was in the room.
“Riiight,” She laughed.
“Its not funny. Just ‘cause its not a problem for you anymore!”
“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that. How is Malfoy going, Hermione?” Harry asked in a voice loaded with innuendo.
“Fine, thank you very much!” She covered up a cough with a laugh.
“At least you only had to sleep with him once.” Ron temporized.
“ Yeah…” Said Hermione, giving nothing away.
“Urgh, fuck this subtlety, Hermione, just fucking tell us!” Ron demanded.
“Yeah, we have been wondering.”
“And I need some…well…tips.” Said Ron turning redder.
“Tips from Malfoy? That’s sinking very low Ronald!”
“No! Not from Malfoy, from you!”
“Ahh, well, I think you’ll find that my role and your role are going to be quite different in the bedroom.” Harry cackled at this. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, why is the poor deluded troll forced to ask me these things? Why haven’t you explained the birds and the bees?”
“He says he can’t ask because its his little sister.”
“Don’t even start, Harry!” Ron warned. Hermione laughed and realised that she was doing quite a good job of pretending that nothing had really happened to her. She grinned and kept up the banter, refusing to remember now, after she was doing so well.
“So, what time does Lavender’s start?” Hermione inquired.
“Well, most people are getting there around ten, so I suppose that’s when we’ll set off.”
“If Ginny’s ready on time.” Harry muttered darkly.
“What? Ginny’s not going!”
“Yes she is.” Harry said flatly.
“But there’ll be Karkeroff’s Triple Black and muddleweed there!” Ron protested.
“Ron, I’m pretty sure that Ginny’s done more muddleweed than the three of us combined.” Hermione noted.
“La LA LAAA! I can’t HEAR you!”

*****

“Blaise!” Draco yelled as he slammed open the boy in question’s bedroom door. “Hook me up!”

Draco had done this before, so Blaise wasn’t particularly surprised. He was a handsome boy, who complemented Draco perfectly. Together they looked like yin and yang. At the moment he was reclining naked on his bed. His well toned body was pale in stark contrast to the black sheets. The sheets did match his hair, however, ebony. The same colour was smudged around his eyes. He was, just at this moment, pulling a long drag from a muggle cigarette. He opened his eyes slowly, smiling up at his best friend.
“Draco. My man. Long time. No see.” It was characteristic of Blaise to talk in short monotone sentences. He also never asked questions. Or if he did, he didn’t raise inflection to signify that he had. This was a constant bewilderment to his professors and made Blaise difficult to understand for anyone who hadn’t known him for the past seventeen years. But Draco had, so he was used to it.

“Heard about Lucius.”
“Yeah? Me too Blaise, now what have you got for me?” Draco demanded. Blaise laughed, or rather exhaled while smiling, then got up and moved around to his cupboard.
“Okay. I get it. Let’s see. Muddleweed. Flash Powder. Numb Serum. And a few Dragon tears. Unless you want muggle produce.”
“You know I don’t.”
“It’s good.”
“Yes I know you think it’s good.” Blaise was the very definition of the term “stoner” and it still shocked Draco that he managed almost perfect marks year after year. “Numb Serum. And something to wash it down with.” Blaise obliged him with a small tube and a bottle of Karkeroff’s. Draco gulped each down in quick succession. For the first time in three days, he felt his body relax. It was almost as good as looking at Hermione. He shuddered. He used to do a lot more numb serum. Before he’d met her. Before he’d discovered mindless sex. Feeling it make its familiar journey through his body was sort of like returning to an old friend who you don’t have any respect for anymore.
“So. Lucius.”
“Yeah. He…well…he fucked up. Fucking major. And I sent him away.”
“Where.”
“I don’t know. It was…pure magic. You know?”
“Yeah. No more Lucius.”
“Hermione left.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. On holiday. She said. I…she…Lucius broke it. Wrecked everything, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck!”
“Fuck.”
“So what’s on tonight?”
“Party. I dunno.”
“What time?” Blaise shrugged and took another drag. Then he lazily rubbed his crotch. “For fucks sake, Blaise, put some clothes on!”
“Yeah.”

*****

“Wooohh!” Screamed Ginny as she stumbled out of the fireplace. She was the last of the four to arrive. The three in front of her laughed and handed her a bottle. They did entry shots before taking in their surroundings. Lavender had told them to floo to an abandoned house somewhere outside of Burton on Hill. The actual party was above them, they could hear it. Harry picked up Ginny on his back and she laughed. Ron ruffled his hair nervously. Hermione was fucked so she just giggled. As they walked up the stairs to thethe party proper, the smell of muddleweed was strong and Hermione inhaled deeply. The party was already rocking and the music was loud. The house had clearly been abandoned for a long time and the floorboards gave the impression that they would prefer to be elsewhere. Harry and Ginny left quickly, probably to find a quiet corner. Lavender immediately approached Ron and kissed him a wetly on the lips and in such away that her tongue could clearly be seen. Hermione shuddered and left them to it.

She joined a circle that had formed in one corner of the room next to a couch which had definitely seen better days. It consisted mainly of Dean, Parvati, Seamus and a few Ravenclaws she’d never met. They were passing a joint and some Karkaroff’s around. This recommended the circle highly in Hermione’s slightly blurry eyes. She sat on Seamus’s lap, giggling. He laughed at her and then passed her the joint. As her pupils dilated Hermione forgot everything outside of this moment. Her giggles became laughter and she leaned back against Seamus. Three days without joy had been a long time. She couldn’t imagine how some people lived that way. Maybe this wasn’t real: drug and alcohol induced happiness, but it felt good and she would do anything to maintain it.

Soon they finished the joint and most of the drink so they all got up and started dancing. A few guys that Hermione didn’t really recognize came over to dance as well. In a very short space of time she found herself grinding between them, but she really could force herself to care. There was no guilt, no moral outrage, there wasn’t much at all actually. There was that same twinge of power. She had lured them here, to her. They couldn’t tell she was damaged…broken. One of them brought his arms around her and she tensed instinctively. He didn’t notice and pulled her closer towards him and then bent down to kiss her. She allowed it, not really able to see beyond the haze of self-medication. Suddenly his hands were under her skirt and her mind went berserk. She was back in the office. Lucius was behind her. She heard someone screaming and realised it was her. The guy was looking at her like she was crazy.
“What the fuck?” He demanded.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” She screamed. Everyone was looking at her. Not in a good way.
“That’s not what your body’s saying, bitch.” The guy said.
“Just don’t fucking touch me, all right?!” She screamed again and kicked out at him.
“Woah, you’re fucking insane.” He said dismissively and walked away. Hermione, breathing heavily, looked around the room. She saw Ron coming towards her, worry all over his face.
“What’s wrong with you?” He whispered as he approached, and then turning to the audience smiled. “It’s all right folks, she’s just had a bit too much to drink.” He slapped her back and the alcohol prevented her from maintaining balance. The crowd accepted this and went back to their partying. Ron sat her down at a table in the corner.
“So…?” He asked.
“I don’t know.” She said. “Not now. I can’t.”
“Okay. Will you be alright now?”
“Yeah, just get me some more vodka.” He obliged and she snatched it from him and grabbed a packet of cigarettes off the table before hurtling out of the room.

Outside there was silence except for the noise that drifted down from the party. She sat on the grass and lit up, breathing deeply. The nicotine calmed her and she sighed. Reaching for the vodka she drank deep and sighed again. She lay back on the grass, looking up at the stars. Fuck. Her situation was fucked. She had had no preparation for this, no idea what to do, what course of action to follow. She was losing any grip on rationality she might have had and instead drowning reality in vodka. Her objective self could see the nonsense of her actions. It could see that this was destructive, that she should face her problems, seek help. But her rational self had been ever-diminishing since the attack. She missed Draco and hated him for not knowing how to help her. How to bring her back to something stable…sustainable. She pillowed her head with her arm trying to simulate the feeling of laying back on his shoulder. It was a sad substitute. She swigged from the vodka until she reached her favourite place of late: oblivion.

*****

Draco was having fun. Well sort of. He was having as much fun as anyone riding on a cocktail of numb serum, dragon tears and a whole lot of vodka could have. The room was pretty much spinning. Probably. Who could say? Someone poked him in the ribs and he laughed. It was a girl. Pretty girl. Not as pretty as Hermione. But pretty all the same. She was laughing at him. He didn’t laugh back, instead he kissed her. This seemed to be acceptable for her and she pulled him in for more. Soon she was dragging him towards one of the Zabini’s one hundred and forty seven rooms. He smiled to himself. He still had it. He couldn’t fix Hermione, but he could sort this girl out.

She shut the door behind them as he pulled her top off. She was already working on his pants as his top had left his body many hours ago. He kissed her again before removing her bra and pushing her onto the bed. She giggled as he nearly fell on top of her and he growled. Draco Malfoy was nothing to giggle about. He ripped off her skirt and was unsurprised to find an absence of underwear. He pulled off his own and, still not feeling that aroused, played with her breasts, then her pussy.

Still not happening.

“Give me a blow job.” He demanded. She pushed him onto his back and quickly went to work. And she was good. Experienced. He sighed, enjoying the feeling.
“What did you take tonight?” She whined.
“None of your business.”
“Well, you’re not getting hard.” He knew she was right. He also knew that it was wrong, because he had taken dragon tears which were a huge aphrodisiac.
“Maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.” He suggested coldly, even though he knew it was a lie.
“Ummm…yeah, well,” He could tell she was about to say something scathing.
“Just get off me you slut!” He shouted.
“Urgh. What is your issue? No offence, but you’re…”
“Way too good for your diseased mouth? Yeah, I know, so why don’t you get the fuck off me, put your fucking clothes back on to cover up that hideous body, and the GET THE FUCK OUT!” He screamed.

She scrambled off him, clearly frightened. The look in her eyes, pain, hurt, fear, suddenly reminded him of how Hermione had looked when she remembered what his father had done to her. Was he like his father? The girl was gone. He put his head in his hands. Was he the next Lucius Malfoy?

He was so like his father: They looked the same, they spoke the same…he’d been conditioned from an early age, for fuck’s sake. No wonder Hermione had left. That’s what she saw, he realised with dawning horror. When she looked at him, it must be like looking at her rapist. No wonder she had run. No wonder she had nearly jumped! His mind reeled and he ran to the room’s window, and just managed to get it open before spewing his guts out. It might have been the alcohol, but it was more likely the self-loathing.

*****

Hermione awoke covered in dew. She was damp, very cold and extremely hung over. She remembered very little…actually, none of the previous night. She wasn’t really sure she remembered her own name. She looked at the bottle beside her and shook her head before taking a swig to clear it. Time to find Harry, Ron and Ginny. Harry and Ginny were together, lying on one of the mouldy couches. Harry’s hand was still down Ginny’s pants. Hermione shook her head again and was suddenly glad she had brought the vodka as company on this expedition. Ron was not apparent among the leftover guests who were sprawled across the dilapidated living room. Its disrepair was much more apparent in daylight. She ventured into the bathroom, where she found Seamus sleeping in the bath, naked, with a girl curled on top of him. Her hair was plastered across her face and there was an acrid smell lurking in the air that could only be vomit. Hermione quickly left.

The next room she tried was a bedroom with at least ten people in it. She looked around and recognized the foot that was emerging from the bedcovers. Pulling them down she found naked Ron with his arm still wrapped around the sleeping, equally naked, Lavender. She smiled, glad that he had gotten what he wanted and then took a reassuring swig from her trusty bottle, before tugging at him. He woke groggily.
“Whaaa-?” He demanded.
“Sshhh, come on! We don’t want to be here for the clean up.” She hissed and his eyes widened with understanding. After finding clothes, they woke Harry and Ginny, which took some convincing, and headed homeward.

The sun was shining down on the Burrow and Hermione smiled.
“Let’s stay outside a while.” She said. The others agreed and they accio’d a picnic rug/Ron’s doona on which they all situated themselves and settled down for a pleasant doze. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that Mrs. Weasley found them.
“Honestly, get up you great lumps!” She cried. “Lazing around! And on bedclothes! Outside! I won’t be washing them you know!” This diatribe was effective in that it was both torturous for the hungover teenagers’ delicate hearing, but also incredibly tedious. Mrs. Weasley, after five sons, knew exactly how to best permeate the hungover mind and she smiled inwardly. With much grumbling everyone was soon inside and engaged in some form of useful task, with pounding heads as punishment for their sins.

*****
The rest of the week was spent in a state of moderate sobriety. There were no more parties, but there were still small gatherings that dropped by the Burrow. Hermione found her alcoholic fog was beginning to impinge on her study though and soon stopped drinking. She had never been a big drinker in the first place and was not really accustomed to such a high alcohol intake. Studying was equally effective at delivering her from thoughts that she couldn’t bear to think. She felt like she was living a half life, but she knew if she wanted to leave the shadows, she would have to acknowledge what had happened. She hadn’t realised until the fifth day after the attack that she was actually carrying her wand everywhere. She never wanted to feel the terror of knowing it wasn’t there when she needed it again. She also hadn’t really been eating and had some increasingly prominent bone structures to show for it.

Today was her last day at the Burrow and she was worried. She’d have to face Draco tomorrow on the train, in the prefects’ compartment. She still couldn’t believe that not even two weeks ago they;d bee celebrating their Heads’ letters under the umbrellas at Fortescues. Life had been so exciting then. Even with the Marriage Law and the dysfunctional marriage, the future had been bright…possible. Now it was dark, because there was no future if you had no past and Hermione was effectively living without a past at the moment.

She sighed. He’d be there. She longed for him, but at the same time, their relationship had changed and she wasn’t really sure if she could face him anymore. He alone looked at her and knew the truth. He knew what had happened. His very existence was testimony to an event that she wouldn’t accept. The fact he knew, the fact he cared and the fact he was helpless was too heavy for her to carry. To accept him again would be to accept the truth. And she couldn’t do that. It hadn’t happened. Couldn’t have happened. But the fact still remained that she would see him tomorrow. Never before had she so dreaded a day. Putting it to the back of her mind she recommenced her packing, a difficult exercise, because she knew that every item she packed, she was an item closer to seeing him. But she absolutely refused to follow the Harry and Ron method of leaving the packing/stuffing until the last fifteen minutes before they had to leave.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair and there were no friends over. She remembered the year that they had experimented with getting monstrously drunk the night before the train. There must have been at least a few gallons of vomit by the tracks. She shuddered. Definitely a failed experiment. No one was really in the mood for merriment tonight and after a few games of exploding snap, they all went up to bed. Hermione couldn’t sleep and she couldn’t be bothered trying. Instead she lay awake staring at the ceiling, not thinking about him.

*****