Somewhat Damaged

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING YOU RECOGNIZE! I simply own the plot and anything original you may see. Anything taken from the Harry Potter series is property of JK Rowling.
Warnings: This fic is rated M for a reason. There will be graphic content such as foul language, violence and the mentioning of sexual situations. If any of that offends you, STOP READING.
Author's Note: This story is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. It takes place AFTER HBP. I do my own thing once HBP ends. It is not canon, and it doesn't follow DH. As far as I'm concerned, DH never happened.
This will be a RL/HG TIME-TURNER fic, but we'll have to gradually build up to that point, so it'll be quite a few chapters before any real romance happens (however, there will be a little fluff in the next chapter).
This chapter is extremely short since it's just the Prologue. The chapters to come will be much longer (see my RLSB story "Nothing Was Alright" for an approximation of length for future chapters). This story is already completed, so I'll be updating regularly every few days (depending on the feedback). I know you probably don't understand this scene very much, but the next chapter will explain how and why Hermione is where she is.

Somewhat Damaged
Prologue: Of Staircases and Gargoyles
by
FifteenStitches
(GrangerEnchanted, AdultFanFiction)
a.k.a.
Missus Moony
(FanFiction, HarryPotterFanFiction)


"You're the hope that ends disaster." -Snow Patrol

November, 1998

This was it. She wouldn't see tomorrow. There were no doubts about that, yet she couldn't stop running from the inevitable. Nineteen years she had lived to see, but it wasn't enough. Selfish, maybe, but she didn't want to die now. Everyone was gone -- everything was shattered. The-Boy-Who-Lived lived no more, and Ron followed shortly after. It was just Hermione now-- for how long, she didn't know. Maybe when her life was finally lost too, Harry and Ron would be waiting for her. It's just the next great adventure, right? Isn't that what Dumbledore said?

Dumbledore. He would know what to do.

She pushed on, even though her legs felt like they were pumping battery acid and every time she inhaled she felt a stabbing pain in her side that made her wince. It was so close, she was almost there- just a little further. Hogwarts seemed to be working with her, as if it knew there was someone loyal to the cause in danger.

She could hear Bellatrix somewhere in the distance, promising her a new round of torture, one which she wouldn't escape this time. As she made it onto the landing she glanced over her shoulder to see Bellatrix stepping onto the staircase to follow her, with a maniacal grin on her face. But as Bellatrix took a step up, the staircase changed, swinging to the left with such ferocity that Hermione was left wide-eyed at the display for a moment. Lestrange nearly lost her balance and toppled over the banister, but she was able to get a grip on the stone. When she looked up and saw herself being taken away from witch she had been tracking, she let out a screech and started firing hexes at the last of the Golden Trio.

Bellatrix's cry of anger woke Hermione from her reverie and the young witch took off once again while she had the chance, casting a shield charm against Bellatrix's body-bind hex with a new-found confidence from the knowledge that even now, when she had no one left, Hogwarts would still keep her safe. She wasn't sure why she felt she had to come here of all places, but something in her gut told her she needed to speak to him. The wisest wizard she had ever known would surely know a way to fix it, right? This was all a bad dream, wasn't it? Just a nightmare, nothing more. She'd wake up and Harry and Ron would be alive and well, and the Trio would go downstairs and celebrate the Yule with the Weasleys and Sirius, and then Hermione would owl her parents to say she missed them, and Dumbledore would show up to wish them a happy Christmas and Hermione would give him the socks she knitted for him. They weren't all dead... This was just... Just a bad dream.

With an anguished cry, she was painfully reminded that this was indeed not a dream when a jet of light-- which she assumed was a reducto-- smashed into her left shoulder. She stumbled foward but managed to remain upright, and she cast a sectumsempra over her shoulder at her masked attacker. From the yelp and thud she heard, she knew she hit her target. She could feel warm ooze trickling down her arm to drip off of her fingertips, but the stone gargoyle came into view as she rounded the corner and she forgot all about her injury. A renewed vigor came over her and she skidded to a halt in front of the statue, shouting every candy she could think of. It had been a few years since Dumbledore took his last breath, but Hermione recalled Professor McGonnagall telling her once that Albus had set a series of safe-words for anyone who would need them-- but the person would have to figure it out for themselves. After Dumbledore died, the Headmaster's office had sealed itself, and to the chagrin of Voldemort and his faithful followers who now ran the school, no one could get in.

"Gummi bears, marshmellows," she continued her candy rant to the stone statue, getting more hysterical with each sweet treat. The longer it took, the closer Bellatrix was nearing; she could feel it. What if this was all for naught? What if the brightest witch since Rowena Ravenclaw was to finally meet her end, all over the riddle of a sweet-loving old codger?

"Caramel chimmichangas?! Please, please open!" But the statue remained still, completely unneffected by her words. Hermione was frantic, and there was a deepseeded panic starting to rise up from her stomach; soon she would either scream or vomit, possibly both. A couple of deep, calming breaths later, Hermione shut her eyes a moment, putting her praised intellect to use. 'A series of safe-words for anyone who would need it.'

Anyone who would need it...? Everyone needed the safe-words to get in, obviously, otherwise there would be no safe-words. It didn't make any sense. How would she be different from all the others before her who tried to get in? Voldemort and his little cronies had all had their turns with it, and according to the rumors, Voldemort had even tried to blast the statue off the wall, to no avail. She needed help, and she wasn't above herself to admit it.

Hermione's eyes snapped open.

That was it.

All this time, it was so simple. 'Anyone who would need it.' He had said once: 'I'll always be there for a student in need of help.'

She leaned towards the gargoyle with hopefilled eyes, and said in barely a whisper: "I need Professor Dumbledore's help."

The gargoyle sprang to life and jumped to the side, and in her peripheral vision, Hermione could see Bellatrix rounding the corner. Hermione wasted no time sprinting past the statue, hearing Bellatrix's scream of frustration above the scratching of stone sliding against stone.

Only when Hermione was cloaked in darkness and Bellatrix's profanities and hexes were muffled from the Gargoyle sealing the entrance did Hermione begin to breathe a bit easier. The stone steps beneath her carried her up to Dumbledore's office door, and Hermione instinctively raised her hand to knock. She shut her eyes, however, reminding herself that her mentor was dead. She felt a little wrong when she turned the knob without permission and it made her halt her steps. Finally having arrived at her destination, she suddenly questioned herself. What exactly was she doing here? How could Dumbledore's office be of any assistance? Was she just holding on to the last connection to the past she had?

She used her left hand and cringed from the pain in her shoulder, which she had forgotten about until now. The blood trickling down to her fingers left the doorknob covered in blood, and her left shoulder slouched in protest. Torches sprung to life as she stepped into the office, and only then did she notice how bad she was trembling.

"I'd say it was lovely to see you, Miss Granger," someone said from above, "but I had hoped you would have no need of my help."

Hermione nearly leapt out of her skin, shocked by the voice that broke the calm; a voice she hadn't heard in a very long time.

She looked up to the portrait that had spoken, and her tired hazel eyes took in the saddened face of Albus Dumbledore.

"All is lost, then?" he asked with a grim frown, as if he already knew the answer.

"Yes, sir." answered Hermione in a detached voice, keeping her burning eyes wide to stop them from spilling the tears they longed to shed.

The office was empty except for an old desk and Fawkes' old perch. It was unsettling to see the Headmaster's office like this, so dead and hollow, yet it seemed to fit. The life of the school had long since died with their beloved Headmaster; as did their hope.

For a time it had seemed all would be okay-- the great Harry Potter would come out on top, just as he always did, surely? The Golden Trio would shine again, wouldn't they?

The war was far too big for even the Golden Trio; too big for a seventeen-year-old boy who'd been bullied and mocked his whole life, never having the chance to really live. If Hermione could have taken that pain from him, taken his responsibilities and let The-Boy-Who-Lived just be a normal boy who lived, she would have. Maybe then he'd still be there, smiling and speaking with wisdom far too old for his barely-legal age, those understanding emeralds for eyes that darkened to a forest green when his loved ones were in danger; a bit of the powerful wizard he was breaking through the exterior.

But alas, he had been too worn, too used -- too old for one so young. His body and soul had been too weary to win. When he fell, those loyal to the greater good wept for what would never be, for the hope that would never be seen again through this disaster.

"Tell me everything, Miss Granger. Spare no detail," Portrait-Albus spoke from above.
Everything? How could she possibly tell him everything? It was too much; way too much for her to think of. If she said it aloud it meant that it was real, and if it was real she would surely be undone. There was be no more hope for her, no more hope for the world.

It wasn't until the painting of her former Headmaster chuckled from above that she realized she had voiced her concerns.

"Tricky thing, hope is," Dumbledore said when he saw Hermione's pained expression at her former mentor laughing at a time like this. "When it seems all is lost, you've only to wait until she makes her appearance. Hope will always come to those patient enough to wait for her," he nodded then, as if his word was indeed truth. "Tell me the tale, my dear. It can not hurt you any longer."

Hermione clutched her mangled shoulder with an exhausted sigh and shut her eyes, determining where to begin.

********
Author's Note:
Yes, yes, I am aware that was ridiculously short, but this was just a teaser chapter to show you what's ahead. The next chapter will explain the who/what/why/when/where's, I assure you. I know this was just an itty bitty chapter, but let me know what you think! Also, if anyone's up for brit-picking (I'm American and always slip up and use Americanisms), PM me and we'll see if it'll work out!
Review, my pretties.
Oh, and for you RLSB fans, the sequel to "Nothing Was Alright" is on it's way, and it'll be called "I Never Stopped," so keep an eye open for it. It should begin posting within the week.
Tina
xx