The End

Chapter 27: The Price of a Memory

When Ron and Hermione got finished marveling over the way Harry defeated Voldemort, their attention returned to the true reason they had started this discussion about the final battle: Hermione's memory problem.

"Did any of that sound familiar?" Ron asked.

"Familiar, yes, but it's all just out of reach," Hermione replied, looking frustrated. "None of it seems quite bad enough to make me want to forget it all."

"It's a bit different when you actually remember living it," Harry reminded her.

"What about that patch when we were separated?" Ron said. "The first one."

"Yes, let's see about that," Hermione said.

She closed her eyes to prevent any distractions as Harry and Ron began describing the situation for her.

"There was a small group of Death Eaters at an intersection of two hallways, the one with the portrait of the handsome hag," Harry said, trying hard to reiterate every detail. "It would have taken us half an hour to navigate the closest detour passed them."

"We split up to corner them," Ron continued.

"We agreed to get to our positions and attack them in three minutes," Harry said.

"So we went in," Ron added. "You weren't there, so we figured you got hung up by something. After we took care of the Death Eaters we went to find you..."

"I was running," Hermione said slowly. "I had to take a long detour to get to the corridor from that side. It was dark, I had to light my wand." She got up and started pacing. "I heard something up ahead, so I went to investigate, and then...and...then..."

The same noise again, much closer now and getting closer still. It wasn't until she could tell that the noises were footsteps that she had the faculty of mind to extinguish her wand light and dodge into the nearest shadow. It didn't seem to help, the footsteps were still getting closer. She had just begun to prepare herself to fight her way out when a hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her around. She managed to force back the impending scream and replace it with a "Lumos!" However, the former might have served her better because as soon as their eyes adjusted to the sudden light Lucius Malfoy forced her to turn around once again and held her tightly with her back against his chest and his hand clamped over her mouth. In another swift movement he disarmed her.

"Hermione Granger," he sneered. "What a surprise."

His disgustingly hot breath brushed past her ear and she shivered. Malfoy laughed.

"You've been a horrible nuisance over the years, Mudblood," he said. "I think its time someone taught you your place in this little world."

With that, he began to drag her into a nearby classroom. Hermione wasn't sure what he meant to do when they got there, but she didn't intend to remain long enough to find out. She began kicking and squirming away for all she was worth, but it was mostly useless, his size and strength was so superior to hers that her struggle did little more than slow him down. However, this was all just a front for her true assault, for she had begun thinking a strategic assortment of spells, which, strangely enough, seemed to have no effect whatsoever.

Finally, when it became obvious that non verbal magic was insufficient, she bit down hard on the fingers covering her mouth. Malfoy yelled in pain and pulled his hand away, and in the few seconds that her mouth was not obscured, Hermione shouted, "Expelliarmus!" There was still no effect.

It was true that Hermione didn't have a hold of her wand, but she should have been able to work some magic without it. Perhaps Malfoy was maintaining a personal shield charm, but she couldn't spare the concentration to test that hypothesis by attempting magic on something else. Unfortunately, any magic powerful enough to break through the charm itself was more complex than she'd ever managed without a wand. That realized, she redoubled her efforts to hinder him physically.

Malfoy finally forced her into the classroom and kicked the door shut behind him. He roughly thrust her away from him, exactly the sort of opportunity she'd been hoping for, but before she could put it to use or even regain her balance, he hit her with a full body bind. Unwillingly, her arms and legs snapped to a stiff attention, but her momentum continued to carry her forward. She fell flat on her stomach, hitting her nose and forehead sharply against the hard stone floor. By the time she managed to unfreeze herself, Malfoy had flicked his wand again and lifted her high into the air. Irritably, she thought the countercurse to his spell, but she'd only dropped a few inches before he regained control.

"Not so clever now, are you?" Malfoy sneered, lifting her wand and twirling it a few times before tossing away in disgust. "You are a freak. You possess the magic that allows you into this world by mere chance and you only gained entrance here because of the charity of Muggle lovers like Dumbledore. You will never truly understand what it means to be a witch. You are lower than the lowliest house elf. At least they understand their place."

Hermione crossed her arms defiantly. Sure his words stung a bit, but if he actually expected her to take him seriously then he was deluded.

"No?" Malfoy asked, watching her. "I can see, then, that a demonstration is in order."

With that he lifted his wand, and Hermione rose rapidly to the ceiling. She wasn't quick enough to stop it and her head struck a wood cross beam. Stars swam in front of her eyes.

"Defend yourself, if you can," Malfoy taunted.

But Hermione could do nothing, for he'd flipped her upside down and she was too busy choking on the blood that had been streaming out of her nose moments ago. It felt like hours before he flipped her back over, coughing and sputtering. She nearly blacked out when all the blood rushed out of her head, but she forced herself to remain conscious.

"Well," Malfoy said. "Since you don't seem inclined to defend yourself, maybe you'd like to offer a suggestion about what you'd like to do next. A dance, perhaps."

Malfoy flicked his wand again, and Hermione's legs sprang to life, performing what was unmistakably an airborne Irish jig. Unable to stop her legs, Hermione shook her head, attempting to replace her tears of embarrassment with a defiant expression.

"An impression of a top, then?"

As Hermione began to spin faster and faster she wondered vaguely if she was being Imperioused, but dismissed the idea when she realized that she felt none of the displaced calm that usually accompanied that particular unforgivable. Her continued efforts to fight back still had no effect, and her head injury wasn't doing her any favors.

Finally, she began slowing down, and even though the world seemed to be swimming around her, Hermione could tell that Malfoy had a very strange glint in his eyes.

"Or something more?"

Hermione's hands began to inch unwillingly toward the hem of her shirt. She tried to will them to stop, but it was no use, Malfoy's influence was too strong. She could hardly stand to think of what was about to happen.

"No," she begged.

Suddenly, the door to the classroom burst open and the spells were released. As Hermione dropped she saw Harry and Ron chasing Malfoy out of a second door. They didn't seem to notice her. She landed painfully, half on a table, and fell to the floor, where she lay for a few moments gasping for breath and trying to blink the tears out of her eyes. She remained that way for a few seconds, then stood up carefully and retrieved her wand from where Malfoy had thrown it. She was tapping her nose and forehead to stop their bleeding when Harry and Ron returned. They looked surprised to see her.

"You dueled him?" Ron asked, gesturing to the door behind him.

Hermione didn't respond. She wasn't at all sure of how to answer that question.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Hermione lied, gingerly feeling her broken nose.

"Hermione?" Ron asked carefully, touching her arm as her monologue finally faded into silence.

Hermione jumped away. Harry and Ron were looking perfectly horrified at her account, but in that moment she didn't care if they wanted to help her or not.

"Hermione," Ron tried again, taking a step forward.

"No!" Hermione yelled, backing desperately into the wall behind her. Her mind was reeling from what she had just remembered and she couldn't think straight. She wanted to fight, she wanted to cry, she wanted to kick and bite and scream and throw up and die, and the resulting conflict of interest left only one possible option: she forced in one shuddering breath and screamed as loud and as long as she could.

When she could scream no more as slumped against the wall, suddenly feeling as though she'd run a marathon. The cool wall felt good against her hot skin. She ached all over, as though every cut and bruise she'd received during the incident had suddenly erupted anew. She could almost taste the blood in her mouth.

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, completely at a loss for what to do.

"It's alright," Ron said, using what he hoped were his most soothing tones. "It's over now, you're-"

"Stay away!" Hermione yelled.

"We can help you, Hermione," Ron replied, backing up a step.

"You can't!" Hermione exclaimed. "Only-" Sudden realization etched itself across her face and she pulled out her wand, pointing it at her own temple.

"Ahh!" Ron stammered, and Harry pulled out his own wand and disarmed her.

"No!" Hermione screamed.

"We're you're friends," Ron said. "You can trust us."

"You weren't there," Hermione cried. "I couldn't do anything and you weren't there."

"We're sorry," Harry said. "We didn't know or we would have gotten there sooner."

"Let us help you now," Ron offered. "Tell us what to do."

"You wouldn't understand," Hermione cried.

"Then make us," Ron said.

"No," Hermione replied. It was as though she was slowly being drained of energy.

Ron gave a desperate look to Harry who responded with a sympathetic nod. He would never repeat anything that Ron was about to say.

"Hermione, I love you."

It was the first time he had ever made such a confession, but the result was far from what he'd expected. Instead of calming down, Hermione recoiled ever further into the wall.

"You can't," she cried.

"Yes, I can," Ron replied, a little confused.

"No you can't, not really," Hermione said, tears running down her face. "I'm..." she cast around momentarily for the right word "...a Mudblood."

"Don't call yourself that," Ron said. "And when has that ever mattered to me?"

"It does matter," Hermione cried. "You know it does."

"No it doesn't," Ron maintained. "You're a hundred times as magical as Malfoy could ever hope to be, but I'd love you even if you were a squib."

"I'm not magical," Hermione continued. "I'm just...useless."

"Hermione," Ron said, "after my arm got hurt you treated me like everything was still normal, even though my own family wouldn't even look me in the eye. Now it's my turn. We can make this better. All you need to do is let me in."

For a moment, everything hung in the balance. Harry and Ron watched as Hermione desperately tried to come up with a reason why she ought to be ostracized from society or be allowed to erase her memory again. Then she broke.

"Help me," she cried.

Ron rushed forward and grabbed Hermione into a hug just as she was falling to her knees. She clung to him desperately as though he was the only thing standing in between her and the memories that threatened to consume her.

Ron looked completely lost.

"What do we do?" he asked.

"I don't know," Harry stammered. "Go get help, maybe."

"Ginny," Ron said.

"Sydney," Harry said simultaneously.

"Both," Ron confirmed.

"I'll go," Harry offered, turning to go.

"Tell me you got this guy," Ron said, watching Harry leave, as Hermione sobbed miserably into his shoulder. "Just tell me you got him."

"I got him," Harry replied as he left. All the guilt he felt about killing Lucius Malfoy had evaporated. Now he just wished he'd made it more painful.

However, Harry only made it a few steps away from the portrait hole before he started laughing insanely. It wasn't because anything was funny, because, indeed, nothing was, but in that moment it was all he could do. It seemed as though whatever power decided the fates of men had it in for everyone Harry ever dared to get close to: his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Lupin, Ron, Fred, and now Hermione. The more Harry tired to stop the harder he laughed, and he hoped that Ron and Hermione couldn't hear him.

Additionally, Harry and Ron had always had an unspoken agreement concerning Hermione: to protect her against those who would try to hurt her. In return, she guaranteed that they never failed a class, something which took much more effort. It was a good arrangement for them, but one they never discussed with her, for they knew she would object. Besides, since Hermione was better at keeping herself out of trouble than Harry and Ron, she usually spent more time bailing them out than the other way around. There had been a few slipups on the Wizards' end, but it seemed that this time they had finally failed her utterly. All of a sudden, Harry felt that he understood why Sirius had started laughing when Pettigrew blew up the street and framed him for betraying the Potters to Voldemort.

Sometime while he was laughing, the bell had rung, dismissing students for lunch, so it was lucky that the hallway leading to the substitute teacher's quarters was relatively secluded. Still, when the fit subsided, Harry looked up and saw Luna Lovegood standing nearby. Her expression was as dreamy as ever, but Harry supposed she must have been curious about his behavior or else she wouldn't have hung around.

"Hi Luna," Harry began awkwardly.

"I wouldn't mind hearing a joke," she replied without preamble.

"It wasn't really a joke," Harry said, straightening up. It was just irony on a grand cosmic scale.

"Oh," Luna sighed, she looked a little disappointed. Harry was considering making a joke up for her benefit even though he was hardly in the mood, but she started meandering away first.

"Wait," Harry called. "Can you do me a favor?"

She stopped walking and examined a nearby statue instead, which Harry hoped meant yes. "Could you go find Ginny and tell her we need her in the substitute teachers' quarters. It's behind that picture of Bertie Bott. The password is Grindelwald."

Luna nodded and continued on her way. Harry watched her leave with some apprehension. She had proven herself perfectly capable of completing tasks whether her mind was in a cloud or not, but that didn't stop it from being disconcerting when she seemed to barely listen to instructions. Harry often caught himself speaking slower than usual in her presence.

Harry had more important things to do than worry if Luna would actually do as he'd requested, such as find Sydney and Michael. They had him at a grave disadvantage, for he'd let them borrow the Marauder's Map.