The Ultimate Power: From the Ashes

I will die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I'll just go home,
Oh God knows where.
Because death is just so full and man so small.
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

-Mumford and Sons (After the Storm)

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After the Storm

End of June, 2000

Remus kneeled on the warm ground, hand lightly brushing the tops of the feather soft grass. His fingers wove through a few of the stalks and he pulled gently. The green pieces came free easily. He stared at them for a moment as they lay in his palm, broken and ragged. A few were turning a light brown colour from the heat of the summer while the others were as lush as one could ever hope for them to be. His mind wandered as he mused over the greenery.

How easy it was to end something. One small pull and it was over, done with; nothing anyone could do to put it right again. One gentle tug and there it was; five pieces of life dead, gone, laying pathetically against his skin.

The ends were destroyed; mutilated beyond repair. It looked as though their very threads of life had been forcefully unraveled. Was there any time when they weren't so damaged? Remus didn't know, but he wanted to find out.

He tossed the tuft to the ground and worked his hand down within the grass, searching for the base. He selected a decent looking piece and pulled as gently as he could. He lifted the stalk to his face and studied the end. Ravaged; completely unrecognisable to the smoothness and regal simplicity it had once held.

He tossed it aside with more force than was necessary and began pulling up more and more pieces, searching for just one that wasn't completely decimated. All he needed was one that still held some semblance of the beauty and simple perfection that it once had, even if it was dying; dead.

He never found it.

Remus collapsed forward, both hands joining his knees on the ground. His head hung low, hair falling away from his face, brushing the stone in front of him. His chest heaved as he tried to regain some of the breath that he always seemed to be lacking. His eyes lifted to the stone, tracing the engraved letters upon its dark, gleaming surface that haunted him like an ever present spirit. He felt wetness drip onto his hand and he realised that he had begun to cry silently. His fingers dug into the soil beneath his body.

"I'm sorry, Holli," Remus murmured to the stone. It stayed silent, mocking him. "They broke you and I don't know how to fix you. I can't."

He moved forward, body curling around the marble, his head resting against the corner, directly next to her name. His fingers followed the swooping etchings of the letters as he let the chilly stone cool the heated flesh of his face.

"Happy birthday, love."

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Hermione moved about the darkened room as quietly as she could, preparing for her day at the Ministry. Ron lay on the bed, sleeping peacefully, his light snores muffled by the heavy bedspread. Hermione paused in her preparation and watched him for a long moment, her lips tugging up at the corners slightly. When he was relaxed like he was then, unconscious and completely oblivious to everything around him, Ron looked like the boy she remembered from her first year at Hogwarts. It always made her heart swell and her mouth pull into a wistful line.

She sighed and grabbed her remaining necessities before walking to the side of the bed. She leaned down and gently brushed the fringe from his face before placing a light kiss to his forehead. He groaned quietly and cracked an eye open.

"H'mione?" he mumbled quizzically. "No trainin' t'day."

"I know," Hermione whispered. "I just wanted to let you know that I'd be home a bit later than usual. I have to stay late at work tonight."

"M'kay," Ron murmured. "Love you."

"I love you, too," she replied softly, placing another kiss on his lips before walking out of the room.

She made her way into the living room of the flat, gathering her cloak and bag. She paused again as she slipped her cloak over her shoulders, gazing at a photograph upon the nearby table. She hated it; having to look at it every day before she left. All it achieved was a large ball of guilt forming in the pit of her stomach. For some reason, though, she refused to move it.

Hermione sighed and turned away, Harry's, Ron's, hers, and Holli's smiling faces following her out the door and down the stairs.

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She saw stars. So very many stars it was incomprehensible.

Rain poured down around her, streaking down her face like tears; hiding tears. Hands approaching, threatening. Danger; unsafe. Turn away.

"Weak!"

"You're not weak...love you...never have to be afraid..."

Colours swirling; faces flashing. Hold still...please...

"Beautiful..." Gone. Please...come back. I need you.

Fire; more colours. Run...have to help.

Warmth; fear. Don't be scared.

"Careful...love..."

Terror; so much fear. Please...no!

Laughter and joy. Stay with me...

"Never...just one..."

Anger; hurt; pain. Not like this...anyway but like this.

More fire and even more colours. Spiraling; sinking. Nowhere to go...

Colours...green...

"No!"

She started awake, sitting up and throwing the sweat dampened sheets away from her body. Her chest heaved and her hands shook as she brought them to her face. Her cheeks were wet from the tears that had spilled while she slept.

Bloody dreams, she thought, voice a low growl in her head. And the woman wondered why she never slept; why she never chose to sleep.

She crawled from the mattress, righting herself on the floor and stripping the bedding as she went. She threw it into a pile in the hall on her way to the bathroom, slipping through the door and over to the sink. She turned on the tap and allowed the water to run ice cold before she bent and splashed a generous handful across her face. She rested both hands on opposite sides of the white porcelain as she looked up and gazed in the mirror. What she saw didn't surprise her, but she hated it all the same.

Her long black hair hung in stringy, wet tendrils around her slanted features. Her lips were pulled into a taut line of resentfulness and grey eyes stared back at her with wretched loathing, which was about as much emotion as they had ever shown. Her skin was ghostly pale in the sunlight shining through the high window and it highlighted the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

She hated this face. It made her physically and mentally ill.

Truth be told, though, Lea Black hated everything.

She took a quick shower, trying to banish the lingering remnants of the dream, though she knew it never helped. Afterwards, Lea journeyed down to the lower level of the small cottage and her regular day began. She wandered aimlessly through the familiar spaces, body and mind restless, just like always. She went in to the kitchen and gazed dispassionately into the cold cupboard, but nothing looked appealing. It never did.

After an hour had passed of her simply staring unseeingly at the window pane above the kitchen sink, she made her way out into the back garden and listened to the sounds of summertime. It did nothing to ease her restlessness.

It was a familiar feeling, being trapped with nowhere to go. Her heart was constantly pounding, day in and day out, as though ready to break loose and race into the surrounding wilderness where she had never been. She had rules to follow and she wasn't allowed beyond the boundary of the secluded garden. It was dangerous.

She went back inside after sitting for hours in the far corner of the garden, hidden behind the rose bushes, amusing herself by watching the insects buzz around the wilting flowers. Lea spread books out upon the surface of the kitchen table, trying to focus and read, searching for anything she hadn't found. It was futile, however. She couldn't concentrate, her mind running off to its farther reaches to places she didn't wish to visit at all, especially then.

As the end of another wasted day among hundreds came closer, she seated herself on the couch in the living room, watching the flames flicker yellow and orange in the old fireplace. Her mind was blank for once and she was grateful for that, more than anything. Just as Lea was beginning to slip into a sense of calm and restfulness, the flames in the grate flared green and her dream raced back to the forefront of her mind.

A woman stepped through, no older than herself. She dusted ash from her dark robes and smiled at Lea.

"Hello," she greeted good-naturedly.

Lea waved a hand. "'Lo, Hermione," she replied uninterestedly, her eyes watching the ash as it fluttered to the hearth.

Hermione sighed and stepped up to the couch, seating herself beside the other woman.

"Are you still in that mulish mood of yours?" she asked in exasperation.

Lea didn't even grant her a glance. "Yes, I am," she said flatly before her tone turned cynical. "Though I suppose if you told me that I had to be in a better mood, then I'd have to be, wouldn't I?" She flicked at a fingernail in contempt. "That is how it normally works around here, isn't it? You tell me what I have to do and I do it like a good little pup."

Hermione scowled. "You know that's not what this is, Lea."

Lea's hands clenched and she stood abruptly, storming into the kitchen. She threw the window open and stuck her head out, breathing the humid air in deeply. Her nerves calmed after a long moment and she withdrew back inside to see Hermione standing by the counter. Lea stared at her in disdain.

"You still haven't been sleeping, have you?" Hermione asked, studying her face from across the room.

Lea glared at her, but refused to answer.

Hermione gave her a sympathetic look. "Listen -" she began, but Lea cut across her.

"So, where does Ron think you are this time?"

Hermione stopped and her eyes narrowed. "I told him I was working late tonight," she replied.

"More lies, Hermione?" Lea asked with mock sweetness. "At least you left your parents out of it this time. Tell me, when was the last time you went to visit them when you told Ron you were going to?"

Hermione's lips pulled into a tight line. "You know the answer to that."

Lea snorted. "That's right, I do. Over a month, Hermione? What type of relationship is that building where you lie to the person you claim to love?"

"I do love him," Hermione answered shakily, "and you know that. You also know why I have to lie to him. It's for your own safety."

"Safety?" Lea snarled. "Keeping me locked in this bloody damn box is for my safety? It's driving me mad! You're the only form of human contact I have at all and even then, you only manage to squeeze me into your busy schedule about once every two or three weeks. I want out, Hermione. It's been long enough."

"Lea..." the other woman tried to sooth.

"Stop calling me that!" she shrieked in demand.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "What would you have me call you then?"

"My name," she snapped out.

"That is your name." Hermione stared at her calmly.

Lea's eyes blazed. "No, it isn't! I want to be myself, Hermione."

Hermione sighed. "I refuse to have this conversation with you again. Everything I'm doing is for your own good. I'm keeping you safe; alive. Do you have any idea how many people would try to kill you if they knew you existed?"

"Get out," Lea ordered in a low growl. Hermione paused and looked at her in shock. "Get out now and don't come back until you have some real answers."

"Lea -" Hermione began tentatively.

"Get out!" Lea screamed. The cupboards over Hermione's head burst open and china shattered around her.

Hermione made a quick retreat to the fireplace, Flooing away in a flash of green flames. As she stepped out into her and Ron's flat, her thoughts turned back to the woman she had just left. She needed help. It was all becoming more than she could handle on her own. Forming a plan in her mind, she made her way through the flat in search of Ron.

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Remus sat in his usual armchair within his living room. His head was thrown back, his legs stretched out in front of him, one arm draped lazily over the cushions, fingers absently tracing through the condensation on his abandoned glass of Firewhiskey. His eyes were trained on the same spot they always were when he sat there.

Holli laughed at him from upon the mantle, her arm thrown around Harry's waist casually. Her eyes sparkled and glinted in mischief and happiness. The wind blew her dark hair into her eyes and she uselessly swept it back just to have it blow forward again. The Burrow hovered over them like a silent protector in the background.

Her birthday; just a little over two years ago. It was the last time Remus had seen her that happy and carefree.

His chest was frozen, submerged in solid, unyielding ice. He couldn't breathe. Remus pitched himself forward out of the chair as he choked and raced through the kitchen and out into the garden. He took in great drags of air, them doing absolutely nothing to disperse the weight pressing down upon his chest.

He collapsed to the ground, allowing the sun to beat down upon him. It warmed every cold part of his body, relieving the ever constant ache somewhat. His heart, though, his heart remained frozen; lifeless. He closed his eyes in despair and let the sun work away what it could.

He had no idea how long he'd laid there when he heard a knock upon his door, echoing through the empty house. He opened his eyes to see that the sun was considerably lower than it had been when he had first rushed outside. He pushed his body up and walked to the front door.

He stared in faint surprise when he saw who was on the other side. "Hermione?" he said questioningly.

Hermione's eyes shifted around the front part of the property before resting on Remus. She took a deep breath and looked up at him pleadingly.

"I need your help, Remus," she began.

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A/N: Thanks to easleyweasley once again! I hope everyone enjoyed!