The Spring of the Satyr

"Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again." She said it out loud, as she had said it everyday for the past few days, since she had arrived in Paris. Hermione didn't know why she felt compelled to recite the first line of Rebecca, her favorite novel, only that she did. She hadn't even read the book for two years, not since her holiday to Bath, yet the words crossed her mind more and more frequently. Like a talisman,, no, more like if she thought and spoke the words often enough they would lead her somewhere. Somewhere important.

Last night she hadn't dreamed of Manderley, she had dreamed of,,, the skyscraper. She dreamed that she'd lain face-forward over the rail of a balcony so high up that the vehicles going by below were no more than tiny pinpricks of light. She'd been buffeted by strong, cool winds blowing furiously through her hair and stinging her eyes. She'd felt phantom hands covering her breasts as she had arched her back into a muscled body. Lips nipped and sucked at the skin at the back of her neck, making her crazy with desire. Feeling utterly complete with him deep inside her, she'd reached her hands back and pulled the lips tighter against her. Silky, unseen strands of hair tangled in her fingers. An unrecognizable masculine voice breathed in her ear: "Come for me." Even in her sleep, her inner muscles clenched in ecstasy. It was always so real, and,,,, embarrassing!

The night before that it had been the forest with the spring who's water looked like metal. There was also a Parisian cafe, a strange castle full of art, a tropical place with coconut trees everywhere and a place she thought must be Venice. She had never been to Venice. To the best of her knowledge she had never been to any of them. The familiarity of these dream places had begun to truly frighten her, and who in the hell was the man?! Hermione attempted to train her brain to remember, remember his face, but no matter how hard she tried she could never recollect anything about it in the morning. The unknown face of her lover always seemed to be shrouded in a deep, impenetrable mist - but once in a while she could see his alabaster body, completely naked. To the best of her knowledge she had never really seen THAT before either - yet she felt she knew the body almost as well as she knew her own.

"Hermione!" A crisp, familiar voice called her from her reverie. "Are you coming? Daddy's hungry."

"Yes Mother." She hurried to catch up to her parents who had wandered several yards ahead of her down the Quai du Louvre. They had just finished touring the museum, twice. Her parents loved art. "I used to love art." She thought - Caravaggio had been her favorite, so full of passion. Now there didn't seem much point to a bunch of paintings that didn't even move. For her parents sake she had oohed and aahed, and even delighted her father with her recitation of the compete known works of Jacques Louis David. Had to make them think she was normal after all.

She looked at her parents, excitedly looking in shop windows and stopping every few minutes to point at something. How happy they were! It had taken them some time to remember who they really were when she'd removed the memory charm from them. After she had explained the reason she'd been forced to enchant them they'd been surprisingly understanding. Her mother had told her later that nearly every night of her exile in Australia she'd dreamed she had a daughter. Hermione smiled sadly, guessing that some things were just too important to completely forget.

They stopped for lunch at a small, humble cafe. There wasn't much of a view, but Hermione thought she could see the Arc de Triomphe if she squinted her eyes JUST right, no just a regular building. "There should be a view."

"Sorry darling." Her father said conciliatorily. "We've already ordered drinks. We'll find something with a view for dinner."

Oh dear! Had she said that out loud? "No Daddy, this is fine." She smiled at him. "I was just lost in my thoughts."

"Again? Hermione dear, are you sure you're alright? You've seemed very,,, distracted lately." Mrs. Granger grabbed Hermione's hand, squeezing it.

"Really Mother, I'm fine." She said with mock exasperation. They ate an uneventful lunch, during which Hermione managed to be engaged in the conversation. She thought that at one point an entire ten minutes passed without her either thinking of Manderley or her dreams. Maybe things were looking up.

That evening, all dressed in their finest, they walked arm in arm down the Champs Elysee. A street musician played a mandolin and they stopped to listen. Beautiful. "At least it was." thought Hermione, before her parents began to dance in the street. She looked away from her parents, face reddening in embarrassment - and then she saw it.

The cafe sat off the side of the street; a flower seller's stall was situated behind the tables, all neatly arranged for dinner guests. Her heart beat faster. Dazed, she wandered over to the flower stall. As she approached, the sent of roses and carnations nearly made her knees buckle. "How do I know this place?" She asked herself, near panic.

She crossed into the wrought iron enclosure looked around, amazed. "If this place is real,,,, are the rest of them? Is HE?" Her mind was in an uproar. She sat herself at one of the empty tables. A waiter, unfamiliar to her, came to take her order. The words left her lips before she could think them: "Je voudrais boire une bouteille le vin de la Cheval Blanc annee 1968." Her four years of public school French, ending when she was ten, did not begin to explain how easily these words came to her.

"Oui Mademoiselle. Tres bien!" The waiter hurried off, pleased beyond words to have sold one of their most expensive bottles of wine.

A thin, attractive woman in a server's uniform was carrying a tray to the only other occupied table. "My table." Hermione thought. She stared daggers at the couple there, willing them to move. They didn't. Hermione looked at the waitress. "Familiar, only she is younger in my dreams, with shorter hair." She caught the waitress' eye and motioned her over.

"Do you know me?" She asked in English.

The pretty woman looked at Hermione for a few moments, analyzing her. Hermione held her breath. Finally she shook her head. "No Mademoiselle, I do not think it is so. Am I supposing to know you?" She asked in broken English. Hermione shook her head.

"No, you just looked like someone I knew. I thought,,," She didn't know what she thought. How could Hermione tell this strange Frenchwoman that she occasionally played a bit part in her dreams? "It was nothing, sorry." The waitress looked at her strangely, then smiled and headed back into the kitchen.

"You might have let us know you were leaving us!" At the sound of her mother's sharp voice Hermione jumped nearly off her chair.

"Guess 'Mione picked the place for dinner!" Mr. Granger said jovially.

"You scared the devil out of me!" Mrs. Granger said, still fuming.

Hermione pulled it together. "You two were embarrassing me."

She managed to make it through dinner, barely. Little details kept coming back to her throughout the meal. "There should be an artist." She thought, looking down the empty side street. "In my dreams there is an artist."

When the meal was over and her father was presented with the cheque he looked as if he had just discovered a rotting corpse. "This meal was over 300 pounds!" He scanned the bill. "Hermione, would you please explain to me why you ordered a 200 pound bottle of wine?"

Hermione was mortified. Her parent's time in Australia had greatly depleted the family savings. They were only recently getting the dentistry practice back up and running. "Sorry Dad." She said, unable to give him an explanation. It was hard to answer a question that you didn't have the answer to.


*****

Two days later, as they pulled into the driveway of their middle-class Manchester home, Hermione thought she had never been happier to see it. The farther she got from Paris the better she seemed to feel. The memories in this place weren't phantoms, they were real.

She unpacked in melancholy silence. School was over, Lord Voldemort was dead - for real this time. Hermione wondered where she was meant to go from here. She longed for her friends. Harry was with Ron and Ginny at the Burrow, spending the summer. She wished she could join them, but after what happened with Ron the last time,,,, she didn't think she could face him. Why did everything have to be so,, confusing? She sat gloomily on her cheery yellow bedspread and thought for the hundredth time about her last encounter with Ron.

It had happened only a few days after their defeat of Voldemort. She'd gone with all of them back to the Burrow. It was impossible to feel celebratory with so many dead. Especially Fred. George was so lost without his twin. Molly had tearfully asked all of them to keep watch over him, afraid he would do something to himself. Everyone was so focused on George, no one seemed to notice that Ron too had lost a brother. Hermione had come across him in the twins' room - sobbing.

Truly, she had only meant to comfort him. Hermione sat down on the bed next to him and took his shaking body in her arms. She held him for a long time until his breathing calmed. She didn't know how it had happened but suddenly they were kissing. She'd thought it was,,, nice,,, comforting. The next thing she knew Ron had his hand up her shirt and with the other was trying to unbutton her pants. Gods! This felt so very wrong! What did he think he was doing? Hermione had pushed him off her,, hard. Ron fell from the bed, bashing his head on a nightstand.

Angry tears in her eyes, Hermione snapped at him. "I came in here to comfort you Ronald. I didn't intend for you to try and shag me on your dead brother's bed!"

Ron's face reddened and he looked as if he'd been punched. He'd opened his mouth to form words, but nothing had come.

Hermione was horrified. She would have given anything to take the words back, but they'd already been said. Without another word Ron got up and left the room. Hermione had stayed on a few more days, trying her best to apologize to him. No matter how hard she tried he wouldn't speak to her. Finally, heartbroken, she'd had enough. Leaving notes for Harry and Molly Weasley, she had set out to her house in Manchester. The house was cold and empty without her family. The lawn was overgrown and an inch of dust covered everything. She'd decided on her first night alone there that it was time to bring her parents home.

A loud tapping on her window drew Hermione from her memories. She looked up, startled to find a large barn owl hovering on the ledge. She opened the window with excitement. "Ron!" She thought hopefully, though she didn't recognize the owl. She pulled the parchment from it's leg and searched her dresser for an owl treat. The bird flew off and Hermione unrolled the parchment. She drew in her breath as she read the contents of the message:

Dear Miss Granger

Due to the events of the past year, it is the decision of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to allow all students who feel they received an inadequate education last year to return and repeat their grade. Those students who feel that last year's education was sufficient and who passed their mid-term exams shall be free to advance to the next year or graduate if they should so choose. Special preparations are underway to accommodate a double first year class. It is the hope of all of us at Hogwarts that we can make real progress through learning and experience. All students from all houses are encouraged to take advantage of this historic circumstance.

Please send your reply via owl as soon as possible, as we will need an accurate student count before the school year begins.

Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagal
Headmistress

Hermione sat unmoving on her bed, stunned. The parchment fell from her hand to the floor and she quickly bent to snatch it back up and reread it. It couldn't be true! It was entirely too good to be true! A smile plastered itself on her face and she felt truly happy for the first time in weeks. Normalcy! She thought of all the things she was suddenly looking forward to,,, lessons, the library, Harry,,,,,, Ron. The smile sagged. Would they decide to go back? If they did could she and Ron ever be friends again?

A loud crash drew Hermione's eyes back to the window. A small owl with ruffled feathers stood shaking itself on her ledge. "Pig!" She exclaimed delightedly, recognizing it. She opened the window and the bird flew inside. Hermione struggled with it to let her remove the message from it's leg. It was from Harry!


Dear Hermione

Did you get your letter from Hogwarts? Oh, I know you did! Can you believe it???? I know you must be thrilled. Kingsley has offered Ron and I positions with the ministry. I know I'm going to take it. I feel like I can do so much more for everyone there. I don't think after everything we went through in the past year that there's much more I want to learn. I'm not sure what Ron has decided to do, though I think he's decided to come with me.

Things here at the Burrow are still the same. Everyone is understandably gloomy. Ron worst of all. I know he misses you Hermione, even if he won't tell you so himself. I don't know what happened between you two, but just give it time.

Ginny sends her love.

Regards,
Harry


Happiness deflating a bit, Hermione tried to imagine life at Hogwarts without her two best friends. Should she even go? She thought of her alternatives - yes she could easily find a job, probably alongside Harry and Ron at the Ministry, but she longed for Hogwarts. Lifting her chin stubbornly she made her decision. She would return to school. Ron be damned!

******

"You must go back to school Draco! There is no alternative!" Lucius Malfoy, eyes blazing, stared back into the stormy, petulant eyes of his son.

"I WILL NOT go back Father! I don't care what you or Mother say! I am of age and it is MY decision to make!" Draco stood up from the sofa. We would not let his father intimidate him, not again. Draco couldn't begin to imagine the humiliation that awaited him back at school. He was sure Potter would have made sure every single student knew about his actions for the past 2 years, knew about his part in the death of Albus Dumbledore, the brand on his arm. How all of them would LOOK at him! He couldn't bear it. "I won't discuss it any more!"

"Yes you will Draco, if you ever want to become anything at all in this life!" Lucius sat behind his desk and put his head in his hands. "Don't you see? Can't you get it through your head the precarious position we are in? If your mother hadn't saved Potter's life ALL of us would be rotting in Azkaban! There is still discussion at Shacklebolt's ministry that you and I got off much too easily!” Lucius stared into his son’s insolent face and wanted to shake him. “Draco, we must do everything in our power to improve our family image!" Lucius looked up and saw to his relief that his son was finally listening to him. His expression softened. "Most of our former allies are dead my son. We are alone now, and we must do anything we can to overcome the way the rest of the wizarding world sees us. Show them that the Malfoys have no reason to hide. Show them we are not afraid!"

Draco had sat back down, dejected. He couldn't think of an argument. He knew his father was right and he knew he must do his duty. "Alright Father, I'll go back to Hogwarts. I'll show my pretty face and attend my lessons and let them say whatever they want to about me to try to earn you and Mother a spot back in society. But when I finish,,," Draco thought better of what he'd been about to say. He looked at his father scornfully. Damn the blasted man for getting them into this!

"When you finish,,,, then what?" Lucius asked.

"Nothing Father. Hurry and send the owl before I change my mind."

******