RP: Version of Normal
Date: Thursday, August 24, 1998
Characters: Hermione Granger
Location: Hogwarts
Status: Private
Summary: Hermione thinks about how things change
Completion: Complete
Eleven days. The usual excitement that accompanied less than two before school start was lacking this year. While Hermione was looking forward to get back into her courses and taking her NEWTs, it just wasn’t the same. So much had happened that she just couldn’t feel like the enthusiastic schoolgirl she used to be. Perhaps it was growing up, becoming an adult, or maybe she’d just lost a lot of that eagerness in recent months. Regardless, the closer it got, the less she could pretend to be normal.
Instead of having her supplies bought and organized, she had only bought her books. There had been an attempt to buy her ink, before the attack, and it had just gone so terrible that she hadn’t even felt interest in trying somewhere else. Being in crowded shops bothered her, though not as much as being outdoors in non-secure locations. She had had little else to do during the nights when she lay awake in bed unable to sleep, so she’d tried to organize her thoughts. She’d hoped that maybe she could make sense of all these odd reactions she was having about things, but she couldn’t. She ended up giving herself a headache and forcing herself out of bed to get a glass of warm milk.
Kreacher had noticed her new routine and even had the milk waiting most times, which was probably an indication that she really needed fix whatever was causing the sleeplessness and random emotional outbursts. There just wasn’t any way to fix it, it didn’t seem. She tried, God she tried so hard, and it still happened. There was always taking a potion to sleep, but she was scared about getting dependent on something like that. It hadn’t been this way after Malfoy Manor, but maybe that was because there’d been a war happening and she’d been needed. None of it really made any sense, which was frustrating.
It had been two weeks today that everything seemed to go to Hell. Despite her efforts not to let the attack change her or her life, some things just couldn’t be controlled. The corner was as far as she’d walked, even trying it every day. Some people wouldn’t even get into a lift with her at the Ministry, ignorantly believing that she’d been turned or would somehow infect them just by breathing the same oxygen. It had made her miss parents, mostly her mum, so much that it hurt, but they were gone now. and she couldn’t even blame anyone because it was her fault.
She supposed that the good that came out of it was realizing who really cared about her and who didn’t give a toss. It was a little overwhelming, having people express concern or owl personal notes like they were close friends instead of acquaintances. But it was nice, too, because she had never really had friends outside of the boys. There had been Ginny, but she wasn’t sure how much that was due to actually having anything in common or just because they had to share space and got along well enough. Besides that, though, it had always just been Harry and Ron. She didn’t even really know how to be friends with other people, much less girls.
Now, she had Luna, who had become a very close friend during the past months, and Neville had visited. There had been a lovely owl from Katie, and Parvati and Lavender and Alicia and Lisa had been concerned. There was a part of her that wanted to take a chance and be friendly with them, but another part of her was scared that she was misunderstanding the situation and they didn’t really want to be friends, not in that way. Considering the way people had treated her before Hogwarts and even there, she just didn’t know if the risk of being teased or ridiculed was worth trying to be with friends when things like that always confused her.
Harry and Ron were her best friends. She knew that they were each other’s Best-with-a-capital-B friend, in a way she couldn’t ever claim them as being hers, but she’d spent years with them as her entire world in a lot of ways. Their closeness fluctuated when it came to her, too. At times, she’d talk to Ron more then it would be Harry then it would be both, but, through it all, Harry and Ron had been her closest friends since first year.
Sure, she wrote to Viktor every couple of weeks and had always got along well enough with other students in a general sense, but the boys were the only ones who ever bothered to take the time to get to know her. In many ways, she got along better with boys. Her conversations with Malfoy had been enjoyable, even if it seemed that he’d lost interest in his Muggle studies project, and she’d enjoyed her conversations in the past with Terry. It hadn’t been as surprising to receive an owl from him as it had been from the girls, as odd as that might seem.
Of course, confusion over friend versus acquaintance and what exactly the role of each was didn’t distract her for too long. Her mind soon returned to what happened two weeks ago today, and she wondered if she’d always remember it, every Thursday, or if, like the fight at the Department of Mysteries, it would fade in time to something that had just happened in the past. She hoped so, because she didn’t want to spend months or years hating Thursdays just because they reminded her of feeling so helpless and scared and hurt.
She hated that it had changed her so much, without her consent. It was stupid, of course, to think she had control over such things, but she still resented the entire situation. Not only had he hurt her, violated her in a way, but he’d managed to take her control in a way that still affected her after his death. It could have been worse. That’s what she was always reminding herself when her thoughts strayed to that night for too long. She wasn’t naïve or stupid, after all, and she knew exactly what he intended for her even if he hadn’t bluntly told her.
The thought of being forced to have sex with anyone, much less Greyback, made her so very angry, and the reality of how close that nightmare had become a reality made her nauseous. She hadn’t told anyone about that, about what he’d said or what his plans for her had been, though Fleur had guessed. God, if not for Fleur, she’d have been unable to survive those first days when she couldn’t even scrub his scent off of her. She needed to buy her a gift, something to show how much it meant to her because Hermione was horrible at putting such feelings into words, nearly as bad as Harry, though she’d never tell him that.
Greyback had kissed her. When McLaggen had forced a kiss on her beneath mistletoe, she’d hexed him and refused to consider that an actual kiss because she’d not given permission. But she couldn’t do that with Greyback. She’d not been able to hex him or turn her head away and he would have done much worse to her then and there if Jennings hadn’t killed him. Her stomach rolled at the thought of what might have happened, of what the nightmares would occasionally show her in such graphic detail that she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to do that with anyone, even if she fell in love and wanted to at some point in the future, without thinking about him and his smell and his touch.
She reached up and rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes. This wasn’t the time or place to be thinking about that, to be remembering things she tried to keep pushed back to the corner of her mind. If McGonagall came in unexpectedly and found her crying over paperwork, she’d have to explain and that would just make it worse. It had been two weeks, though, and weighed more on her mind today because she was here, at Hogwarts, after spending the morning at the Ministry with all the strain that had caused this week. It was so like that day when everything had changed that she couldn’t not think about it.
Finally, she straightened her desk and wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe, She had finished everything, so she was going to leave a half hour early. After she closed her office, she slowly made her way downstairs. Instead of going to the Floo, though, she continued on to the front doors. She hadn’t been to the gate since that day, since it happened, but it was only eleven days until she’d have to face it. She preferred to face it now by choice instead of being forced to then.
Anyway, it might be nothing at all. It’s a path that she had taken more times than she could count or cared to, and the familiarity would surely be more important than one negative incident. When she approached the gates, she studied them a moment, tense from the walk outside and stressed despite knowing that no one was planning to jump out from clear space and attack here on the Hogwarts grounds. Considering those were normal emotions these days, much to her annoyance, she didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary.
As she stepped through the gate and hesitantly began to walk the path to Hogsmeade, she thought back to that day. It had been cool but dry, and she’d been thinking about dinner, of all bloody things. Maybe it was her fault, not for refusing an Auror guard but for being so stupidly distracted that she’d forgot to be careful. With each step she took, she lost herself in memories, thinking about that afternoon and how things had felt, how they’d smelled, and how quiet it had been. She hadn’t heard anything, no twigs snapped as he hid waiting for her, no sound to give her a warning until it was too late.
She turned around quickly and aimed her wand, blinking at the empty path as she stumbled backwards. He was gone now. Dead and buried. He couldn’t hurt her that way, couldn’t carry out his plans to rape her and mate her and whatever horrid ideas he’d had in mind. But he was still hurting her, because this was so difficult, and she couldn’t do it, couldn’t be strong, couldn’t stop being afraid.
There was no warning as her stomach clenched up suddenly. She turned quickly and fell to her knees on the ground before she vomited on the side of the path. She tightened her grip around her wand, fingernails digging in the dirt as she pulled at the grass beneath her other hand, until she finished. Slowly, she sat back on her heels and just stared ahead until she was sure she was finished.
After wiping her mouth, she cleaned up her mess, feeling somehow outside of herself. When she stood up, she looked towards the gates. She wanted to go home, wanted to go take a scalding shower and a potion for her headache and to forget about Greyback and what had happened and how bloody difficult all of this could be, just trying to get through the day. But she couldn’t do that because how could she ever face herself in the mirror in the morning if she ran like a scared little girl?
It was eleven days until school started. There were hundreds of children returning who had been through a year in Hell, which made her couple of hours with Greyback look like nothing compared to the terror they must have felt dealing with the Carrows and Snape. Children who were years younger than her were returning because they were brave, even if they didn’t realize it, so she could bloody well face a set of gates without losing her lunch.
She walked back towards the gates, stopping a few times along the way as memories and a voice in her ear became too much, but she finally made it back. She touched them and closed her eyes, blocking out everything for just a minute. When she opened her eyes, they were damp and she felt exhausted, but she’d done it. She’d faced them, regardless of how difficult, and each time after would have to get easier.
There was still a lot in her mind, still things that she knew she had to deal with, but she was so relieved right now that she couldn’t help but feel proud of herself, even if she was the only person who would ever know about it. She reached up and wiped her eyes before she focused on her bedroom. She wanted to go home now, to brush her teeth and take a shower and curl up with a good book. It was probably silly to feel so pleased about this, but she didn’t care anymore. It was another small step back towards her own version of normal, and that‘s what really mattered.
Characters: Hermione Granger
Location: Hogwarts
Status: Private
Summary: Hermione thinks about how things change
Completion: Complete
Eleven days. The usual excitement that accompanied less than two before school start was lacking this year. While Hermione was looking forward to get back into her courses and taking her NEWTs, it just wasn’t the same. So much had happened that she just couldn’t feel like the enthusiastic schoolgirl she used to be. Perhaps it was growing up, becoming an adult, or maybe she’d just lost a lot of that eagerness in recent months. Regardless, the closer it got, the less she could pretend to be normal.
Instead of having her supplies bought and organized, she had only bought her books. There had been an attempt to buy her ink, before the attack, and it had just gone so terrible that she hadn’t even felt interest in trying somewhere else. Being in crowded shops bothered her, though not as much as being outdoors in non-secure locations. She had had little else to do during the nights when she lay awake in bed unable to sleep, so she’d tried to organize her thoughts. She’d hoped that maybe she could make sense of all these odd reactions she was having about things, but she couldn’t. She ended up giving herself a headache and forcing herself out of bed to get a glass of warm milk.
Kreacher had noticed her new routine and even had the milk waiting most times, which was probably an indication that she really needed fix whatever was causing the sleeplessness and random emotional outbursts. There just wasn’t any way to fix it, it didn’t seem. She tried, God she tried so hard, and it still happened. There was always taking a potion to sleep, but she was scared about getting dependent on something like that. It hadn’t been this way after Malfoy Manor, but maybe that was because there’d been a war happening and she’d been needed. None of it really made any sense, which was frustrating.
It had been two weeks today that everything seemed to go to Hell. Despite her efforts not to let the attack change her or her life, some things just couldn’t be controlled. The corner was as far as she’d walked, even trying it every day. Some people wouldn’t even get into a lift with her at the Ministry, ignorantly believing that she’d been turned or would somehow infect them just by breathing the same oxygen. It had made her miss parents, mostly her mum, so much that it hurt, but they were gone now. and she couldn’t even blame anyone because it was her fault.
She supposed that the good that came out of it was realizing who really cared about her and who didn’t give a toss. It was a little overwhelming, having people express concern or owl personal notes like they were close friends instead of acquaintances. But it was nice, too, because she had never really had friends outside of the boys. There had been Ginny, but she wasn’t sure how much that was due to actually having anything in common or just because they had to share space and got along well enough. Besides that, though, it had always just been Harry and Ron. She didn’t even really know how to be friends with other people, much less girls.
Now, she had Luna, who had become a very close friend during the past months, and Neville had visited. There had been a lovely owl from Katie, and Parvati and Lavender and Alicia and Lisa had been concerned. There was a part of her that wanted to take a chance and be friendly with them, but another part of her was scared that she was misunderstanding the situation and they didn’t really want to be friends, not in that way. Considering the way people had treated her before Hogwarts and even there, she just didn’t know if the risk of being teased or ridiculed was worth trying to be with friends when things like that always confused her.
Harry and Ron were her best friends. She knew that they were each other’s Best-with-a-capital-B friend, in a way she couldn’t ever claim them as being hers, but she’d spent years with them as her entire world in a lot of ways. Their closeness fluctuated when it came to her, too. At times, she’d talk to Ron more then it would be Harry then it would be both, but, through it all, Harry and Ron had been her closest friends since first year.
Sure, she wrote to Viktor every couple of weeks and had always got along well enough with other students in a general sense, but the boys were the only ones who ever bothered to take the time to get to know her. In many ways, she got along better with boys. Her conversations with Malfoy had been enjoyable, even if it seemed that he’d lost interest in his Muggle studies project, and she’d enjoyed her conversations in the past with Terry. It hadn’t been as surprising to receive an owl from him as it had been from the girls, as odd as that might seem.
Of course, confusion over friend versus acquaintance and what exactly the role of each was didn’t distract her for too long. Her mind soon returned to what happened two weeks ago today, and she wondered if she’d always remember it, every Thursday, or if, like the fight at the Department of Mysteries, it would fade in time to something that had just happened in the past. She hoped so, because she didn’t want to spend months or years hating Thursdays just because they reminded her of feeling so helpless and scared and hurt.
She hated that it had changed her so much, without her consent. It was stupid, of course, to think she had control over such things, but she still resented the entire situation. Not only had he hurt her, violated her in a way, but he’d managed to take her control in a way that still affected her after his death. It could have been worse. That’s what she was always reminding herself when her thoughts strayed to that night for too long. She wasn’t naïve or stupid, after all, and she knew exactly what he intended for her even if he hadn’t bluntly told her.
The thought of being forced to have sex with anyone, much less Greyback, made her so very angry, and the reality of how close that nightmare had become a reality made her nauseous. She hadn’t told anyone about that, about what he’d said or what his plans for her had been, though Fleur had guessed. God, if not for Fleur, she’d have been unable to survive those first days when she couldn’t even scrub his scent off of her. She needed to buy her a gift, something to show how much it meant to her because Hermione was horrible at putting such feelings into words, nearly as bad as Harry, though she’d never tell him that.
Greyback had kissed her. When McLaggen had forced a kiss on her beneath mistletoe, she’d hexed him and refused to consider that an actual kiss because she’d not given permission. But she couldn’t do that with Greyback. She’d not been able to hex him or turn her head away and he would have done much worse to her then and there if Jennings hadn’t killed him. Her stomach rolled at the thought of what might have happened, of what the nightmares would occasionally show her in such graphic detail that she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to do that with anyone, even if she fell in love and wanted to at some point in the future, without thinking about him and his smell and his touch.
She reached up and rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes. This wasn’t the time or place to be thinking about that, to be remembering things she tried to keep pushed back to the corner of her mind. If McGonagall came in unexpectedly and found her crying over paperwork, she’d have to explain and that would just make it worse. It had been two weeks, though, and weighed more on her mind today because she was here, at Hogwarts, after spending the morning at the Ministry with all the strain that had caused this week. It was so like that day when everything had changed that she couldn’t not think about it.
Finally, she straightened her desk and wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe, She had finished everything, so she was going to leave a half hour early. After she closed her office, she slowly made her way downstairs. Instead of going to the Floo, though, she continued on to the front doors. She hadn’t been to the gate since that day, since it happened, but it was only eleven days until she’d have to face it. She preferred to face it now by choice instead of being forced to then.
Anyway, it might be nothing at all. It’s a path that she had taken more times than she could count or cared to, and the familiarity would surely be more important than one negative incident. When she approached the gates, she studied them a moment, tense from the walk outside and stressed despite knowing that no one was planning to jump out from clear space and attack here on the Hogwarts grounds. Considering those were normal emotions these days, much to her annoyance, she didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary.
As she stepped through the gate and hesitantly began to walk the path to Hogsmeade, she thought back to that day. It had been cool but dry, and she’d been thinking about dinner, of all bloody things. Maybe it was her fault, not for refusing an Auror guard but for being so stupidly distracted that she’d forgot to be careful. With each step she took, she lost herself in memories, thinking about that afternoon and how things had felt, how they’d smelled, and how quiet it had been. She hadn’t heard anything, no twigs snapped as he hid waiting for her, no sound to give her a warning until it was too late.
She turned around quickly and aimed her wand, blinking at the empty path as she stumbled backwards. He was gone now. Dead and buried. He couldn’t hurt her that way, couldn’t carry out his plans to rape her and mate her and whatever horrid ideas he’d had in mind. But he was still hurting her, because this was so difficult, and she couldn’t do it, couldn’t be strong, couldn’t stop being afraid.
There was no warning as her stomach clenched up suddenly. She turned quickly and fell to her knees on the ground before she vomited on the side of the path. She tightened her grip around her wand, fingernails digging in the dirt as she pulled at the grass beneath her other hand, until she finished. Slowly, she sat back on her heels and just stared ahead until she was sure she was finished.
After wiping her mouth, she cleaned up her mess, feeling somehow outside of herself. When she stood up, she looked towards the gates. She wanted to go home, wanted to go take a scalding shower and a potion for her headache and to forget about Greyback and what had happened and how bloody difficult all of this could be, just trying to get through the day. But she couldn’t do that because how could she ever face herself in the mirror in the morning if she ran like a scared little girl?
It was eleven days until school started. There were hundreds of children returning who had been through a year in Hell, which made her couple of hours with Greyback look like nothing compared to the terror they must have felt dealing with the Carrows and Snape. Children who were years younger than her were returning because they were brave, even if they didn’t realize it, so she could bloody well face a set of gates without losing her lunch.
She walked back towards the gates, stopping a few times along the way as memories and a voice in her ear became too much, but she finally made it back. She touched them and closed her eyes, blocking out everything for just a minute. When she opened her eyes, they were damp and she felt exhausted, but she’d done it. She’d faced them, regardless of how difficult, and each time after would have to get easier.
There was still a lot in her mind, still things that she knew she had to deal with, but she was so relieved right now that she couldn’t help but feel proud of herself, even if she was the only person who would ever know about it. She reached up and wiped her eyes before she focused on her bedroom. She wanted to go home now, to brush her teeth and take a shower and curl up with a good book. It was probably silly to feel so pleased about this, but she didn’t care anymore. It was another small step back towards her own version of normal, and that‘s what really mattered.