Not With A Bang, But A Whimper

Chapter 10

Saturday: Not With a Bang, But a Whimper

As a general rule, I don't like to be proven wrong. The way I see it, the fact that I'm an intelligent female automatically puts me in the category of 'Usually Right', and I'm proud of it. But on occasion, I'm grateful if events show that I'm actually, albeit uncharacteristically, in error.

Such was the case with our return to Britain.

I was prepared for the worst. I was ready for Death Eaters to leap from behind pillars at Heathrow, eager to seize my husband and drag him before Lucius Malfoy. I expected to see Ministry Officials coming at us from all directions, not fooled in the least by the fact that I had canceled the plane reservation for 'Remus Lupin' and made a new one for 'Raymond Wolfe'. Somehow, I thought, our luck wouldn't hold: Malfoy would learn that Remus was back, and there would be hell to pay.

Apparently I've watched far too many spy movies in my life, for as it turned out, we straggled off the plane and through Customs with no problems whatsoever, just three weary travelers in a terminal full of other weary travelers. Certainly the CIA would have had no trouble uncovering the Lupin-Wolfe connection, but I think I gave Lucius Malfoy and his cronies far more credit than they deserved.

By the time it was mid-morning in London, we were back at the flat and happy to be there.

None of us had slept much on the flight, but there were more pressing concerns. Remus wanted to inspect the flat from top to bottom, looking for any clues to indicate that someone from the Ministry had searched the place. I unpacked the suitcases and began making piles of laundry to be done. Hermione decided to search for a news broadcast on the television, curious to see if any more unexplained murders had been reported.

I was in the midst of putting some unworn socks back in the dresser when Remus appeared at the bedroom door, looking worried.

"Kailin? Can you come out here for a minute? It's Hermione. She's terribly upset."

"What's wrong?" I asked, but Remus merely shook his head. Frowning, I shoved the dresser drawer closed and went into the living room.

Hermione was curled into a ball on the floor, her shoulders heaving with sobs.

"Hermione?" I knelt down next to her and put an arm around her trembling shoulders. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"That!" she wailed from beneath a curtain of hair, waving a hand in the direction of the television.

I looked up, expecting to see a newscaster standing amid a pile of bodies or the wreckage of a building. Instead, I was met by...

...a cartoon.

And I understood at once.

"Remus," I said quietly, "can you turn off the television, please?"

"Of course." Still mystified, he stepped forward to press the power button.

"Thanks, love. And could you get a cold, wet washcloth from the bathroom for me? Hermione, let's get you to your room. You'll feel better there." I got to my feet and tugged the crying girl upright. She offered no resistance whatsoever.

I steered Hermione to the spare room and made her stretch out on the bed at once. Remus appeared moments later, a washcloth soaked in cold water in his hand.

"Here you go," he said, the question mark remaining in his voice.

"Thanks," I said, and smiled at him apologetically. "Give us a couple of minutes?"

Remus nodded and left the room. I sat down on the edge of the bed next to Hermione and began to wipe her face with the cold cloth.

The girl shuddered visibly, the very picture of abject misery. "I'm so terribly sorry, Kailin. It's just that I can't take it anymore. It hurts so much, I don't know what to do. When I saw that on TV..."

"I understand. What you're feeling is perfectly normal and perfectly all right."

We sat in silence for a while. I continued to dab at her face, her neck, her arms. Slowly, gradually, Hermione's sobs turned into whimpers, and the whimpers gave way to sighs.

"Why me?" she pleaded softly. "I mean, I know why - because I'm a Muggle-born and smart and all, but - why did it have to be me?"

I pushed the hair away from her face. Remus, I noted with a glance toward the doorway, was standing there watching us. "The answer, my dear, isn't a good one," I told her. "The answer, Hermione, is 'why not you?' There's nothing you did wrong, nothing your parents did wrong. Evil reached out and touched you and your family. It reaches out to touch all of us, and usually it only grazes us, but sometimes it hits head on and knocks us flat. And the only way to fight it is to get back on your feet and keep going."

Minutes passed. Hermione rolled onto her side to stare out the window. She swiped at her eyes with a sleeve.

"I wish - sometimes I wish - that I hadn't been born with magical powers."

"Do you think that would have prevented your parents' death?"

"I like to think it would," Hermione said in a small voice.

"What would you have done? Gone to a Muggle school? College, someday?"

"I suppose."

"Did you ever want a Muggle career? Before you found out you were a witch, that is?" I inquired.

"Oh... I thought about a few things, but never anything very serious. When I found out - about the magic, that is - I figured that was why no regular careers had ever caught my attention very seriously."

"Maybe you would have been a dentist like your parents," I offered.

"No!" Hermione blurted, utterly horrified by the idea.

I burst out laughing at her reaction, and she couldn't help but join in.

"I'm sorry," Hermione managed after a moment, "that sounded terrible, didn't it? But the truth is, I never wanted to be a dentist," she confided. "It's awful, putting your hands in people's mouths like that. I don't know how my parents could stand it."

I grinned. "I know what you mean. People wonder how I can be a nurse, but I don't know how anyone can do dentistry."

"I suppose I'm better off as a witch," she admitted, sniffling.

"You have family, don't you?" I asked, thinking back to the Grangers' funeral. "Aunts and uncles? Have you heard from them much?"

The bushy head shook. "Oh, I got a letter or two, asking how I was doing. But neither of them ever knew I was a witch, or even that I attend Hogwarts."

"That must make things pretty difficult."

Hermione flopped onto her back to study the ceiling. Her face was blotchy and red, her eyelids swollen. "It's awful, really. They're my closest relatives, and I have nothing in common with them. That's the worst part about being Muggle-born. It's terribly hard for your family to relate to you. I felt rather lonely anyway, but now... I feel so alone, Kailin. It was awful, walking through the airport today and seeing all those happy reunions as people greeted each other."

I honestly hadn't noticed. I'd been too busy worrying about whether Remus would be met with a welcoming committee of Death Eaters to spot either the reunions or Hermione's discomfort. Come to think of it, though, she'd been rather quiet on the taxi ride to the flat.

"Did you feel this way when your parents died?" Hermione asked me earnestly. "Because sometimes I think I'm going crazy. I mean, I know I'm not all alone in the world, but that's the way it feels."

In my case, my uncles had rallied around me - initially, at least, until they had gone back to their lives. But I had Billy and Marvy, and that had made me feel less orphaned. I knew what Hermione meant, however.

"You feel like you don't belong to anyone anymore," I said, remembering. "People still care about you, but nobody will ever care again like your parents did."

Hermione nodded vigorously, fresh tears spilling over, and I was unable to prevent my own eyes welling up at the memory.

"I think," I continued, wiping my cheeks with one hand, "that I also felt alone because nobody else had experienced what I was going through. It's normal for your parents to precede you in what's usually a natural death. But to have both of them snatched away so quickly... People tend to look at your like you're some sort of scary creature. You frighten them because they're reminded how fragile life is and how they could have easily been in your shoes."

"That's it exactly," Hermione said hoarsely. "It was like my relatives didn't even want to come near me, that if they got too close they'd catch what I had. And they didn't even know the truth. They didn't know it was Death Eaters. They thought it was just a stupid intruder."

"How about at school?" I asked. "Have Harry and Ron been able to help you?"

A sniffle and a nod. "They've been magnificent. And Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. But others...they think they have to say something comforting, and then they end up saying absolutely the worst things. Usually, they try to make me feel better by telling me how Harry and I are in the same boat now, because he lost his parents and now I've lost mine, so isn't it lucky he's my friend. Except Harry never knew his parents, not really. He didn't have them for sixteen years, like I did."

I smiled ruefully. "I know. Unfortunately, there are tons of people like that. Hang on to Harry and Ron, Hermione. Good friends don't feel compelled to spout platitudes. They're just there for you."

"Like you and Remus."

I smiled and brushed one last curly lock out of her face. We sat in companionable silence for a while. Finally, Hermione spoke, her voice so soft I could barely hear her.

"I'm so tired of trying to be brave, Kailin. Like if I let my guard down for a moment, the pain will take over and I'll never be all right."

I regarded her with a mixture of admiration and sympathy. Keeping her grief at bay for six months had to require tremendous force of will. It also meant the recovery process had been significantly delayed.

"I think you just managed to get over the hump," I assured her.

A smile threatened the corners of Hermione's mouth. She put her hands behind her head and contemplated the ceiling once more. "I hate Lucius Malfoy," she said, in the closest she'd sounded to normal for a good while. "I wish I could curse him to hell and back."

I snorted. "Join the queue. So do I."

She looked at me curiously for a moment, then remembered. "That's right. I'm so sorry, I nearly forgot about the fire."

"Wish I could," I said. "You know we couldn't prosecute, right?"

The girl nodded. I continued, gazing out the window at the bright summer day beyond.

"Sometimes I fantasize about Malfoy being killed, usually by Remus during a big battle. But it's okay with me if an Auror takes him out. Just so sooner or later, the man ends up getting what he deserves."

"Maybe Harry or Ron will take him down some day," Hermione speculated. "They want to be Aurors, you know. On the other hand, that's a long time to wait. I'd prefer sooner over later."

I smiled. "I know. To be honest, I'd be happy just to ram my knee into his groin with as much force as humanly possible."

Hermione actually giggled.

Remus took that as his cue that it was safe to come in. He strolled in, hands in his pockets. "Everything all right? Must be if I hear you ladies threatening Lucius Malfoy's manhood."

I grinned at him. "Would you like in on the action?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure there'll be much left of him after you two get through."

"We can only hope," I said, rising from the bed.

Arthur Weasley wasn't scheduled to collect Hermione until he finished his day at the Ministry. By popular vote, Remus, Hermione and I opted to have a light lunch and then take a much-needed nap. By the time I'd put away the lunch dishes and crawled under the covers next to my husband, he was bursting with curiosity as to what caused Hermione's long-awaited breakdown.

"Only a Muggle could have solved that mystery," I said loftily.

"You're gloating," he said accusingly as he tugged me closer to him. "What was it?"

"Deer."

"I love you too, darling, but what was it?"

I laughed. "Deer. The animals. Hermione was flipping through the TV channels and ran across the movie Bambi."

Remus looked at me suspiciously in the dimmed bedroom light, evidently wondering if I was putting him on. "And?"

"It's a charming, classic story about a fawn growing up. Eventually the fawn, who's named Bambi, is orphaned when his mother is killed by a hunter. It's a terribly sad scene when Bambi is calling for his mother. I cried buckets when I saw it as a child."

"Oh." Bewildered, my husband gave up and decided to chalk the whole thing up to feminine emotions.

By the time Arthur arrived at five, all three of us had managed to sleep for a while and felt one hundred percent better for it. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw Remus.

"So, you made it back after all!" he cried, pumping my husband's hand vigorously. "Well done! How did you manage it? Dumbledore's been furious about this whole business, I can tell you!"

Remus gave him the brief version of how we'd located Marvy's wand, along with yesterday's switch in plane reservations and passports. I smiled inwardly; as a bit of a treat, I had splurged on a First Class ticket for passenger 'Raymond Wolfe'. And so, while Hermione and I sat crammed in Economy, munching peanuts, Remus was stretched out in a leather seat, eating hors d'oeuvres and sipping champagne.

"So what's the latest news?" Remus asked, a worried frown creasing his forehead. "We managed to get hold of the Daily Prophet and stay abreast of things."

"You know about Amelia Bones, then?" Arthur asked, sobering. "A few of us from the Order met briefly, but Dumbledore wants a meeting with all hands tomorrow night. Can you make it?"

"Of course. I'll be there."

And so, here we were, right back in the thick of it. A day ago, we'd driven past cornfields in middle America, without a Dark Lord or Death Eater in sight. Now we had to watch our backs at every turn, guard our conversations, worry about being spotted by people who were the very essence of evil.

At least Remus and I would face it together. Marvy was surely watching out for me - for us - and I wondered if her benevolent protection could thwart even Lord Voldemort.

I supposed we would find out.