Fic: "Facing Forward" (Hermione Gen, Rated G, 1/1)

[imadra-blue.livejournal.com]

Title: Facing Forward
Author: Jaxmari (imadra_blue)
Rating: G
Warnings: HBP Spoilers
Prompt: 69. My passport photo is one of the most remarkable photographs I have ever seen -- no retouching, no shadows, no flattery -- just stark me. --Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Summary: With the events of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince behind her, and the events of the last book in front of her, Hermione has to say good-bye to everything she knows -- even herself.
Disclaimer: I assure you that I am far too poor to be JKR.
Beta-Reader(s): Many, many thanks to the lovely wendynat for the wonderful and speedy beta.
Wordcount: 1870
Completed?: Yes
Feedback: All feedback shall be received with gratitude. Concrit welcome.

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Hermione Granger found it hard to stop crying on some days; on other days, the tears wouldn't come, no matter how much she willed them.

She walked behind her parents, trying not to let anyone in the crowded airport touch her. Everyone was heading off to their summer vacations, mostly laughing and joking with each other. The Muggles wore bright colors and bright smiles, most of them discussing what they were going to do when they reached France. There were a few unhappy people, but they seemed few and far between. It was all so... normal.

She felt tears again, right behind her eyes, welling up but refusing to fall. The Muggles were so clueless. They had no idea what had just happened, what would happen now. With Dumbledore's death, Voldemort now had free reign; it wouldn't be long until the hammer fell and all the Muggles were as terrified as the wizards were.

The Muggle Prime Minister's face couldn't be avoided; he appeared on all of the televisions in the airport, making announcements about the gas explosions that had blown up several city blocks. Hermione knew what the "gas explosions" really were -- the Death Eaters had had a grand old time laying waste to a corner of London. Many Muggles, and several wizards, had died in that explosion.

Elphias Doge had been one of them. Hermione ground her teeth in frustration, knowing the Order of the Phoenix was growing ever smaller. Voldemort was going to destroy them all, one by one if he had to. The only person who could stop him now was Harry Potter. Harry would somehow save them all -- Hermione believed that to the core of her being. He had done it before; he would do it again.

And Hermione was going to do everything in her power to help him.

"Oh, yes," Hermione's mother was saying to her father, "things have gone funny in England of late. I'm so glad we're going to spend the rest of the holidays in Budapest. It's such a lovely city, and I did love it when we went there before."

Hermione's father nodded as he led them to the counter. "It will be good to visit it again." He turned to glance at Hermione, frowning a little. "Are you all right, pumpkin?"

Hermione smiled at him, love welling up in her chest for her parents. They were so distant to her now, near strangers, but she knew they loved her as well. It was her duty to make sure their lives were untouched by this. They didn't know or understand what all the random "gas explosions," "tornadoes," and "freak animal attacks" really meant. She didn't want them to. "I'm fine, Daddy. Just feeling a bit under the weather," she said.

"Get your passport out, dear. The lady will need to see it," her mother told her. Hermione nodded and reached inside her bag, pulling out the passport after a moment. She flipped to the last page, gazing at her own picture.

It was a remarkable picture, really. She'd become so used to the moving pictures of the wizarding world that she'd half forgot what a regular photograph looked like. The past two weeks had kept her so busy with trying to keep up with what was going on and making plans with Ron and Harry by owl post that she'd hardly had a chance to focus on anything so mundane as her appearance.

There she was, with the barest hint of a smile on her rather unremarkable face. Her own brown eyes gazed back at her, eyes not filled with the anguish that she knew filled them now. Her hair was as wild and untamable as ever, and Hermione couldn't believe there were moments that she had actually cared that her hair wasn't a beautiful, shining black plait like Parvati Patil's -- it seemed like decades ago, but had only been just last year. In her passport photo was the most remarkable image of what she used to look like -- just stark Hermione Granger, with no frills, no hair potions, no mortal dread, and no lost innocence.

Is this what Harry feels like? Is this what it's like to be him? To know you have to fight, and maybe die, to save everyone else? To know that there will be pain and death ahead of you, no matter what you do? That everyone and everything you love is in danger, and there might be nothing you can do about it? To know that all you can do is to keep walking forward?

"Next?"

Hermione glanced up at the bored-looking woman who spoke to her. The woman was glaring at her from behind the counter, waiting impatiently to check her passport before boarding. Hermione's parents were shoving their passports back into their bags, looking at Hermione expectantly. She hadn't told them that she wasn't going with them, that she may never see them again. She hadn't told them anything about what had happened during her sixth year at Hogwarts. She couldn't bear it.

Now she had no choice.

"Mum? Daddy?" she said, swallowing hard.

"What is it, dear?" her mother asked, looking concerned. She suddenly looked old to Hermione, as did her father. Old, frail, and too easily hurt.

"I'll miss you," Hermione said, finding the words easier to say as they tumbled out of her mouth, one after the other. "I really will. I love you both so much, though I know we hardly see each other lately. I want you two to take care of each other, and when it's all over, I'll come back if I can. Take care of Crookshanks for me. I don't want to take him with me, not where I'm going."

"Hermione, what on Earth are you talking about?" asked her father, looking incredibly bewildered and more than a little worried.

Hermione turned and ran before she could change her mind, before she broke down and started crying, before she clung to her mother and begged her to make it all go away. She pushed people out of the way, her bags slapping into those who got too close. Her father was chasing after her, calling her name.

She got to the women's bathroom and slammed the door in his face. She only had a few seconds before her mother got there. By the time she had locked the door to the stall, Hermione could hear her mother walking in, heels clicking frantically on the tiled floor. "Hermione! Hermione, what's wrong?"

"I love you, Mum. Go to Budapest. Stay there, it might be safer."

Then Hermione Disapparated, feeling as though she was being pushed through a very small rubber tube and then shoved out. Which was a lot like how she felt emotionally, too.

She wound up behind Number Four, Privet Drive. It was a bright summer day, and the sight of the painfully neat backyard of the Dursleys' home made her long for the comforts of her own home. She reflexively checked to make sure she'd brought all her body parts with her as Ron Apparated beside her, the noise sending quite a few animals in the quiet neighborhood into fits.

Ron smiled at her, reaching out to wipe the tears off her face with more tenderness than she had ever attributed him. He looked every bit as concerned by the expression on her face as her parents had been. This touched her, but she didn’t feel the thrill about him that she had before Dumbledore died. Now was not the time for feelings, boys, or romance. She'd worry about that later -- if there was a later to be had.

"Did your parents take it okay?" he asked. There was a noise inside the house, and the back door flung out to reveal Harry's horse-faced aunt, glaring at them as though they had just killed kittens and then forced her to eat them.

Ignoring Mrs. Dursley, Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand and squeezed. "I don't know. I didn't stay long enough to tell."

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry's aunt beat him to it.

"What in the name of all that's holy do you people think you're doing, trespassing on my property! I'll call the police --"

"They're with me, Aunt Petunia. And we're leaving right now."

Mrs. Dursley turned and gaped as Harry squeezed past her out into the backyard, his own bags hanging off his shoulder. He looked as old and tired as Dumbledore had before he had -- before he had...

... died.

Hermione rushed towards him, flinging her arms around him. She didn't understand exactly what it was like to be him, but she had a glimmer and it hurt. Harry was like the brother she'd never had, and it hurt her to know what sort of pain he was feeling now. Ron patted him on the back with a serious expression on his face.

"You're leaving? Just like that? You think you can just leave, without any --" Mrs. Dursley screeched at Harry, before she was cut off.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia. Just like that. I'm leaving, just like you always wanted," said Harry as he pried Hermione off of him and looked his aunt dead in the eye. A rather large lump of a young man that Hermione recognized as Dudley Dursley stood in the hallway behind his mother, gaping at all of them.

Harry's aunt stared at him, her mouth hanging open. Harry spoke again after a moment. "Thank you for everything you gave me. I know my mother would be very grateful to you. You gave me more than you think you did, and I appreciate that. I hope you and Uncle Vernon and Dudley have a nice life."

Hermione searched for the sarcasm in Harry's tone, but it wasn't there. She looked for the bitterness in his expression, but it wasn't there either. She glanced over at Mrs. Dursley, and the woman actually had tears running down her bony cheeks. Hermione looked away, glancing over at Ron, who looked every bit as uncomfortable as she felt.

Harry turned to Hermione and Ron. "Let's go," he said, putting his hand on her arm for the Side-Along Apparition they'd all agreed on.

Ron nodded at them. "We've just got to go back home for a few days, and then we can go to Godric's Hollow, Harry."

"Good-bye, Harry," called Dudley from inside the house, his tone uncertain.

"Good-bye, Dudley," Harry answered in a much firmer voice.

Hermione Disapparated at the same time Ron did, pulling Harry along with her. Her heart ached, because she knew that Harry, like her, had just left behind every remnant of his childhood. Harry was a man now, and she was a woman. When they left the Burrow in a few days, Ron would be a man as well. They were all adults now, and while they weren't ready to face the world, they were ready to face their enemies.

Maybe one day in the future, after all the battles had been won, Hermione could go back to the girl in her passport photo. She hoped to see her again, sometime.

Hermione already rather missed her.


End.

Comments

[therealw.livejournal.com]

Oh, darling. This is why you can't possibly leave the HP fandom. You have such a wonderful understanding of the characters. I almost cried... simply brilliant.

[imadra-blue.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much. I'm sorry to leave, but I just can't seem to cough up inspiration lately. :/