Untouchable Face

For clarification, the songs are in verse form, italicized. The flashbacks in the middle, as well as random thoughts, are also italicized











Untouchable Face

*Prologue*




Drifting through the night air, where far more than the darkness all others fear is found, there is an understanding of silence. Insomniacs never share their secrets. Not even with each other.






Fuck you and your untouchable face
Fuck you for existing in the first place
And who am I that I should be vying for your touch?
Who am I? I bet you can't even tell me that much







The Great Hall was barren and empty, its air devoid of feeling and full of a chill that stemmed from more than the snow-filled sky above it.

It had been so long.

Seven years ago -had it been seven years?- this place was her world. But so many things change. The Hogwarts valedictorian of 1998 would hardly recognize this woman who sat in the centre of the great hall tonight. This was no longer the academic star of Hogwarts, the pet of every teacher. She was no longer the envy of every other girl for her closeness with - here she forced her thoughts to break off.

The changes in Hermione Granger had not ensued in a day, nor had they in a year. But they had begun when she had left Hogwarts the day of graduation to finalize her enrollment in the summer term at the newly founded Dumbledore Undergraduate University.

Even now she smiled at the recollection of Dumbledore's face upon hearing the name for the school. "I will not have it!" he had stormed, in a rare moment of anger. The board had listened to him respectfully, but the name stood, as everyone had known it would. For there was not another worth of the honour, no, not even the Minister of Magic.

Personally thrilled with the name, Hermione applied for admittance before the school even opened. Her friends were not surprised. Hermione's life revolved around learning, studying, testing her mind's capacity.

But, yes, many things change.

After six years at DUU, Hermione, holding two additional degrees, decided that it was time to take a break from school.

"Excuse me," Her best friend Ron Weasley had written via owl, "but could you send another copy of your last letter to me please? I must be misreading it here, because I could swear that it says you are tired of school!"

Funny, Ron.

* * * * *




She had asked for an appointment at the Ministry. Surely there would be a prime job open for her, with her extensive knowledge and expertise.

"Hermione!" She had heard the smile in his voice before she even turned around.

"Minister!" she exclaimed, relishing the word. "I never expected-"

"Oh bosh!" the newly-appointed Arthur Weasley blushed. Hermione smiled at his resemblance to Ron. "I heard that you were supposed to come in today, so I, er, switched a few meetings around so that I could see you personally."

Hermione was flattered.

A half-hour later, she wasn't feeling quite as pleased. After going over Fred and George's latest inventions, discussing Ron's bumbling managerial skills with the Cannons, and laughing at Percy's pompous article in the Daily Prophet, Mr. Weasley began to get serious.

"I'm what?" Hermione blanched.

He gave her a half smile.

"Overqualified. Unless you're vying for my job" -with a chuckle- "I can't think of a single position here that would fully utilize your abilities."

"Well, I mean..." Hermione was stumbling over her words in shock. "Couldn't you just, put me somewhere where I might be of use? Anywhere? I am not asking for a high-level position, Minister."

"That's just it, Hermione." He said, biting his lip in frustration. "I can't imagine *not* putting you in a high-level position."

She stared at him for a moment, perplexed. "I don't think I'm getting this, sir. You're turning me down because I'm too good for a job here?"

He didn't reply.

"What am I supposed to do Mr. Weasley?" she asked quietly.

"Perhaps I can be of help there," said a voice behind her.

Arthur's face lit up in relief, and Hermione was out of her chair in a second.

"Headmaster!" she cried, as Dumbledore smiled and welcomed her embrace.

"Now, now then!" he chuckled. "It's wonderful to see you too, Miss Granger. And Arthur! How is Molly doing? I heard she had quite a turn last week!"

Hermione looked from one to the other in bewilderment. "What happened...?"

"Bill," Mr Weasley chortled. "He came home for a week with a new girlfriend, a tongue ring, and dreadlocks down to his waist."

Hermione donned a knowing look and giggled with the others.

"Now, Arthur, if you will excuse me for my horrible rudeness, I believe that Miss Granger and I have something to talk about, eh?"

It was the Minister's turn to glance at Hermione knowingly. "Yes of course Sir." He replied with a smile.

"Come then, my dear," said Dumbledore. He took Hermione by the arm with a hint of his own grin tickling his whiskers. And led her down the hallway and then down another, stopping before a formidable looking oak door. Dumbledore's silver whiskers were most certainly twitching as he muttered the password, "Clam Chowder."

Hermione was almost miffed. "I don't see sir," she said as Dumbledore waved her toward an overstuffed leather chair beside the fireplace, "what this mystery is. Can you please tell me how one can be turned down for being overqualified?"

"My dear Hermione," Dumbledore said, "I fear that Arthur and I have been jesting with you a bit too unkindly. I must say, that I am here on Arthur's request, not the other way around.

"As I am sure you have been made aware, the Ministry has been watching your academic and extracurricular career with great interest for several years."

Hermione nodded slowly. Several of her teachers, both at Hogwarts and DUU had let it slip (in not so subtle ways) that they were often asked for copies of certain students' work. Hermione had been sure that she was being observed, but was still unclear as to why.

Dumbledore was not smiling now.

"Miss Granger. You know, of course, how things stand in our world. You, more than any so-called 'pure-blood' understand the importance of wizard-muggle relations."

Hermione was surprised. "Yes sir, I believe that in many ways, I do. Being muggle-born, I have to live in both worlds."

"Yes. And you also know, of course, that the battle has only just now begun, even though our greatest enemy has been destroyed."

She just stared at the fire.

"You were there, Hermione." He said quietly.

Hermione felt her stomach flip at Dumbledore's reference to the downfall of Voldemort.

That, she thought. My god...that horrible night...

* * * * *




Harry had, of course, expected to do it alone. She would never forget the look on Severus Snape's face when Hermione ran into him, searching desperately for someone, anyone, to go after Harry, to help him. He reacted almost instantly to her words, but the look of panic on his face had betrayed him. It was replaced in seconds by determination, and as he drug her down the hall behind him, Hermione knew, without a doubt, that Snape was probably Voldemort's worse enemy, short of Dumbledore and perhaps Harry.

It was Christmas of their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Hermione remembered being vaguely thankful that so many parents had made good on their RSVPs. Some of the most powerful witches and wizards in England were at Hogwarts tonight.

In moments Snape had rounded Sirius Black, a handful of ministry witches and wizards, Dumbledore, and a few of the most advanced 7th years together. Acting on Hermione's words, they found Harry moments later, in the courts of a dark castle in Albania.

Harry had hit Voldemort from behind the instant he had apparated, moments before. Voldemort, cornered in his weakened state, had sneeringly challenged him to yet another duel. Lucious Malfoy had been Voldemort's second. Everyone knew that there was no stopping Harry with Dumbledore at his side. But Harry stunned them all when he made his choice. From behind the stone wall they lined, stepped Neville Longbottom.

Hermione had felt as though someone shoved a glacier down her throat. Bound by the laws of an ancient wizarding code of ethics and honour, no one could rise against a duel participant except the challenged and his second. And Harry had chosen Neville.

It had been quick. Hermione was still not certain of the details. Voldemort had never played fair. Trust Harry, the damn trusting git, to believe that he would this time. The duel had been called only seconds before Harry's legs were bound by invisible wire, scalding hot and crippling. He fell, Voldemort guiding his form scrupulously onto conjured stones, sharp as knifes. Hermione heard Draco Malfoy murmur beside her, and she was sure that Harry was mercifully unconscious before his head hit the rocks. As Harry landed, motionless, and Neville stepped wrathfully into his place, Lucious seemed to snap. Amidst the screams and tension crackled air, he drew his wand.

"You!" he screamed. "You filthy, treacherous bastard!"

Draco never blinked. As his father screamed a mottled curse, Draco's own met it halfway. Bounding back as one mutilated spell, it struck Lucious in the chest. He stumbled and fell facedown onto the rocks his master had conjured for Harry.

Hermione flinched as she saw Dumbledore rise to an inhuman height on her right side, real sparks flying from his face. Fear flickered in Voldemort's heartless eyes, as a wall of wands was raised.

All bets were off.

Lucious had violated the code.

This was no longer a duel.

It was a war.


But as they descended upon him like beasts of prey, hungry for the blood of the malevolent enemy, only one voice was heard.

"Avada Kedavara." Softly.

Perhaps it was the power of his adversaries, uniting their might against him.

Perhaps it was his weakened state, rendering him helpless against so many.

Perhaps it was fate; his destiny led him to this night.

Or perhaps it was one heart out of hundreds that had been ripped to shreds under Voldemort's hand, one heart, which after 15 years, knew vengeance.

Voldemort's face was blank. Hermione swallowed as his body swayed for the smallest moment, a black, snakelike form rising above him. And then he fell, his body crumbling into fine black ash, the form over him exploding with a violence that shook her to her very soul.

"Neville..." Hermione whispered.

As the others stood, numb with shock, Dumbledore reacted. Bending and lifting the boy as though he weighed nothing at all, he turned to Snape. "Severus - he needs..." Dumbledore began.

"At once." Snape replied. He took Neville from Dumbledore and disapparated.

Dumbledore turned then, to Harry, who lay where he had fallen, with his godfather Sirius kneeling at his side. Charley Weasley and Ablatora Trium, a ministry witch, were trailing their wands gently over him, murmuring softly, a pure, white light forming around Harry's head.

"Hermione." Dumbledore looked at her.

Unquestioningly, she willed herself to move. Convincing her body to obey her mind, she walked slowly, and then knelt between Charley and Ablatora. Placing her left hand on Harry's forehead, she joined the two in their spell.

Lepetimenda.

The strongest healing spell that existed, working only halfway without the touch of the one who loved the injured party most.

She wondered later how Dumbledore had known.

Harry regained his consciousness and ability to walk within five minutes.

Neville, they had learned not long after, was in a very light coma, but was expected to recover completely. Hermione had never seen his eyes look as they did when he awoke. She suspected it would be years before true joy would enter Neville's life, but for the first time in the seven years she had known him, part of the dull ache that held his eyes was gone. In so many ways, he was freer than any of them.

* * * * *




Hermione shook her head internally. "Yes sir, this I know."

Dumbledore regarded her sharply. She knew that his thoughts had followed hers. "And you know that the war we are fighting now is not necessarily a war of wands or spells, but a war of advocacy, of awareness, of knowledge." He questioned.

"I would say as much Headmaster." Hermione wondered where he was taking the conversation.

"Then you know, of course, what you must do."

Hermione frowned. Had she missed something...?

"Miss Granger" Dumbledore said, "More than ever before, we need talented, dedicated, pure-hearted individuals to fight alongside us in this war."

"But you must know I would do anything! Tell me where I need be, and I will go!"

"Make no promises you cannot keep, Hermione," Dumbledore said carefully.

"Tell me." It was not quite a question.

"Come back to Hogwarts."

Hermione could not hide her expression of surprise.

"More than ever, we need people like you there. Voldemort may be gone, but his supporters are not. Many of them possess the same powers he did, if not with as much strength. One day, far too soon, I know, they will rise up with a new leader, one perhaps even stronger than Voldemort. Oh don't look at me like that Miss Granger; you know it to be true as well as I do. The task at hand is to pro-actively Dark-proof our world. Make certain that this generation of young wizards and witches will not falter before darkness, will not be turned. Oh we will never be without evil, not anytime soon, don't mistake my meaning. But in time..."

"Dumbledore" Hermione interrupted, almost timidly, "Please, if you don't tell me, I shall go mad."

The twinkle was back in his eyes. "Miss Granger. Do you remember what career advice was given to you in your fourth year, by Crouch posing as Moody?"

Hermione didn't even have to think. "He advised me to train as an Auror."

"Yes. And I agree with him... you have an incredible gift of seeking. But what I am proposing is more than that. You have had extensive training at the University" -here he winced- "and hardly require any more book knowledge."

Hermione's heart was beating faster. Was he saying what she thought he was?

"What I would like, Miss Granger, is for you to undergo a year of Auror training, and then return to Hogwarts. As a teacher."

Hermione gasped. She had *not* expected that. "A teacher? Of - of what? Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"No, not exactly. That class will remain as it is. No, this will be a new class. First through third year, the students will learn basic Auror arts. Nothing heavy, nothing dangerous. After teaching and observing them for three years, it will be your job to choose from the third years those who show strong Auror traits. These will be under your special care for their remaining years at Hogwarts. They will have double classes with you, and after Hogwarts, will continue their training." Sensing Hermione's next words, Dumbledore continued. "If, at any point they do not wish to continue in this training, they will, of course, be allowed to opt out."

Hermione sat in the large office, for once, with no words.

"Please, Miss Granger, take your time." Dumbledore urged her. "Consider every aspect of the job. You were, I will openly tell you, Arthur's first choice, and mine. Mr. Malfoy also nominated you for the job. As soon as he heard that we were considering adding the program, he came to me and asked that I consider you."

"Malfoy?" Hermione raised her eyebrow.

Dumbledore looked amused. "You did know that we sent Mr. Snape east to - well, you did know that Snape went to the east on Ministry business. Did you expect we would abandon potions class?"

"You mean Draco took over his position?"

"He was by far the most qualified candidate."

Hermione chewed on this for a moment. She and Draco no longer spat at each other like venomous snakes, true, but neither was he what she would consider a friend. Even after he proved himself, time and again, and finally against his own father, it was difficult to think of him as being on their side. Difficult to see him as anything but the enemy.

But what mattered? Dumbledore was offering her a job that was nothing like anything she had ever sought or even desired, and yet she knew somehow, turning it down would be the biggest mistake of her life. What was important? What did she want? What was right?

"Yes." She said.

Dumbledore looked at her quizzically.

"I will take it."

Dumbledore did not look surprised, but she wasn't sure that he looked pleased either. "Hermione" -firmly- "I ask you not to make a rush decision here. This is a commitment; to Hogwarts, the Ministry, the students...this is not to be decided lightly. Why don't you take a few days to think this over and then send me an owl?"

Hermione shook her head. "Oh I will think about it Dumbledore, sir, but I daresay I will not be changing my mind."

He smiled.

* * * * *




Her thoughts were floating back to her slowly. She blinked, her eyes tracing the circular ceiling carefully, straining to see. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them.

It had to be nearly dawn, she thought idly, pulling at the edge of her dress robe. The feast and subsequent ball seemed like a distant dream in light of her all-too vivid memories. It was Christmas at Hogwarts, her first Christmas back as a teacher. She had felt some coldness from instructors who had been there before her...those who had taught her when she was eleven years old, and didn't seem to think that 13 years made any difference at all. But most of it had faded as she proved herself, and now her biggest worry was her students.

She smiled, idly picking her hair out of its bun. How she wished sometimes that she could go back and be like them again. Life-burden free first and second years, who came to her to be fussed over as often as they came for help with their difficult assignments. Nervous third years, thinking that it wasn't fair that they only had one term to show that they deserved to advance in Auror Arts. Lofty upperclassmen, who would never admit that a tear was shed on her shoulder, or that they couldn't stop feeling guilty for that "C" that they had earned.

Hermione couldn't believe how much things had changed. Yet here she was. After all of those years, she was back, back in this place, this vast and soulful world she had run away from.

Yes, she thought to herself. I ran. I never would have admitted it, but I was trying to get away. I couldn't stand it any longer, I couldn't bear being there, seeing him every day..... I had to leave; Ihadto!

 

"Sorry I'm late professor"

She froze, her solitary musings shattered.

"Please don't take any points from Gryffindor."

Yes, they lay in shards, all about her on the floor, so real, so violated, that she could almost see them, crushed and discarded.

Her voice was lower than his range of hearing. "No."

She heard his steps, resounding in the emptiness of the hall, quickening as he drew nearer to her, and then she heard nothing but her heart and her tears as he pulled her to her feet and embraced her.

She felt the words escape her heart, fall from her lips, as unbidden as her tears ---





"Harry! Oh, Harry..."