A New Prophecy

Disclaimer: JKR owns everything. I'm just having fun.

A/N: Continued thanks to the fabulous betas!

Chapter Two

A New Prophecy

"... after the light has overcome the darkness."

A stunned Hermione Granger watched as Luna stopped speaking and slumped back down into her chair. Neville steadied her, his hands darting out to catch her so that she would not slide onto the floor.

Concerned, Hermione quickly made her way around the table to kneel next to Luna's chair. She held her friend's hand in both of hers as she looked anxiously at Luna's face. "Luna! Look at me, love. Are you all right?" she asked, moving one hand to stroke a pale cheek. Her concern faded somewhat as she noticed Luna's eyes come back into focus and a pink tinge return to her cheeks. Relieved, Hermione squeezed Luna's hand and offered a wan smile. It was only then that Hermione noticed the eerie silence in the room.

The typically noisy, boisterous group sat quietly as each person pondered the meaning of what they had heard. Hermione had been mentioned specifically – but who could the other person be, and what exactly did it mean?

Hermione shivered slightly, the mood in the room sending a chill down her spine. She took in the pensive faces around her, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. Surely they weren't all taking this seriously?

Being the know-it-all that she was, Hermione had realised the implications of Luna's words immediately. It couldn't be true. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but she did know this: she loved her flaky friend as a sister, but Luna was no Seer.

Hiding her face behind her mane of hair, Hermione sneaked a glance across the table at Ron. He was visibly shaken, his freckles standing out against the unnatural paleness of his skin, and his hands were clenched into fists. His expression was stern – almost angry. For the first time in a long while, Hermione was unable to tell what Ron was thinking, and that unnerved her even more than the reaction of the others in the room.

Hermione struggled to maintain her composure whilst her mind whirled with possible interpretations of Luna's words. She ruthlessly pushed aside thoughts of Ron – she would shut down if she continued to focus on him, and she needed to think.

The silence was broken when George Weasley, or maybe it was Fred, said, "Blimey! It looks like our little Hermione has a secret lover," with a wink intended for everyone to see.

"Why didn't you tell us?" the other twin exclaimed in mock indignation.

"It makes everything so much more interesting."

"Not to mention poor ickle Ronniekins," they went on, deliberately attempting to rouse Ron's temper.

"Looks like you're about to take the back seat, little brother."

"You can't say we didn't warn you – she is a feisty one . . ."

Muffled laughter could be heard; even the ever-dignified Malfoy couldn't help but snigger. Hermione, on the other hand, looked mutinous and was fingering her wand.

"That is quite enough, boys." Arthur Weasley's voice was firm, his tone commanding. This was serious, indeed; the last time Arthur had spoken with such authority, he was barking out orders at the final battle.

Molly caught her husband's eye, then nodded. "Right, then. Shoo, the lot of you! Get out! This is a private conversation. Shoo!"

"But, Mum ..." George and Fred protested.

"No. Go on with you. You'll be of no help here. Out. Now!" One look at Molly's stern expression had them scampering out, as if they were three years old rather than almost twenty-three.

"Cheeky little buggers," Molly muttered under her breath.

"Mum!" Ginny exclaimed, both amused and mortified at her mother's language.

"Well, they are!" Molly responded primly, a slight blush staining her cheeks. She smoothed the front of her robes with her hands and said, "Oh, hush. We've more important matters to discuss."

Quickly, people began to file out, the sound of their whispered speculations following them through the door.

Hermione glanced around the room to see who remained and who had left. Ron, Ginny and Harry sat at the table, and in a far corner stood Arthur, Remus, Tonks, and Minerva. Molly was busily shooing the twins out of the door. Luna, of course, had stayed behind as well; she was still sitting at the table, her hands shaking, her face ashen and eyes wide.

Then, out of the corner of one eye, she spotted a blur of black moving toward the door.

"Severus."

He halted mid-step.

Slowly, Hermione turned her head to look at him. "Don't leave."

"I do not see any possible reason my presence would ..."

"Please," she interrupted swiftly, her eyes pleading with him to stay. Hermione had spent many hours with the taciturn man over the last few years and now considered him her friend, as well as her mentor and employer. She knew if there was one person who would be objective in his observations, it was Severus Snape. She valued his opinion, and she needed his forthright manner to keep her grounded.

Severus sighed, then nodded his acquiescence, and was about to return to the table when Draco attempted to edge past him. Severus quickly grabbed the blond man's arm.

"You stay," he murmured quietly. "I will not be left here alone in a room full of Gryffindors and one crazy Ravenclaw."

Draco stared at his former Head of House as if he had gone completely around the bend. "Me? No, I don't think so," Draco said before attempting to pass once more.

"Remember that day in June almost five years ago when you were arse-deep in trouble?" the Potions master hissed. "I saved that arse; sit it in a chair. Now."

Draco grumbled, "I don't suppose this will fulfil that life debt I owe you."

"No." He considered a moment before allowing, "Perhaps. It depends on how the evening goes."

Gripping Draco's arm, Severus physically shoved him into a chair. He then took his own seat adjacent to Hermione's now empty chair, which separated him from Ron. He leant back, his legs stretched out, arms crossed upon his chest and his expression neutral; he was the very picture of indifference.

Arthur cleared his throat before saying, "Well, then. Why don't we all take a seat and discuss what we've just heard."

Luna's face showed her confusion. "What are you talking about?" She squeezed Hermione's hand tighter, obviously frightened. "What's happened?"

"Don't you remember, Luna?" Hermione asked, a feeling of deep unease overcoming her. She took a deep breath and then rose up to take the seat next to Luna that had previously been occupied by Neville. She closed her eyes as if to block out her thoughts. If Luna doesn't remember what just happened, then maybe it was a true prophecy. No. That's impossible. It can't be true ...

"Remember what?" Luna asked, her puzzlement apparent to all.

"You were just standing there," Ginny explained as the others sat down at the table, "and your eyes ... they rolled back in your head, and then you ... you said some things. But it wasn't you, or rather, it wasn't your voice ... exactly." Ginny faded away as she became lost in her own thoughts regarding the meaning of what Luna had said.

Luna, however, immediately brightened. "Really? I did that? Am I a Seer? How wonderful! Daddy will be thrilled, of course. Think of what this could mean for The Quibbler! I could write a daily column with my predictions and ..."

"Luna!" Hermione interrupted loudly, causing the other girl to jump. Lowering her voice, she continued, "Has this ever happened before?"

Luna looked thoughtful for a moment. "No, I don't believe so. Why?"

Ron leant across the table, looking intently into Luna's grey eyes. "'Cause how else will we know if what you said is a real prophecy or not? Did you eat something funny earlier? Been feeling a bit off lately? Or, erm, more off than usual?"

"Ron! That was uncalled for!" Hermione exclaimed, offended for her friend.

Ron slumped down in his seat, his ears as red as his hair. "Doesn't mean it isn't true," he grumbled under his breath, turning his face away when Hermione glared at him.

"That's enough of that. We will discuss this prophecy like rational adults," Molly admonished.

Ron's eyes snapped to his mother's face, his own visage incredulous. "You mean you're taking this seriously?" He looked around the room, surprised to see all the solemn expressions. "You are!" he scoffed. "Bloody hell! This is crazy! Luna's no Seer – no offence, Luna. How do we know this – whatever it is she said – is for real?"

"Let's just discuss it, first, Ron," Arthur said. "Then we will decide what, if anything, to do with the information it contains. First we should discuss the evidence for and against the possibility of what we just heard being a prophecy."

Hermione agreed with Ron, but she also knew that even if she were to drag him out of the house right now, he wouldn't be able to let it go. It would eat at him until he figured out what Luna's words meant – and she had no idea what he would do then.

Ron was about to protest again when he felt Hermione's hand clasp his. "It's all right, Ron. Let's just talk about it, and then we can leave. Okay?"

He could feel her hand trembling and realised she was as upset as he was. Ron turned his hand in hers, entwining their fingers together. "Okay, Hermione. Okay." After a brief squeeze of his fingers, she released his hand. "So, Dad," Ron began, "where do we start?"

***

A quarter of an hour later found the small gathering of friends, family, and two Slytherins in reluctant agreement that it was possible that Luna was a Seer and had just given her first prophecy. Harry had personal experience with prophecies, and his recollection of the one given by Sybill Trelawney in his third year at Hogwarts coincided with what they had all witnessed that evening. The eyes, the voice, Luna's lack of memory ... all were evidence of a true prophetic experience.

Hermione was not looking forward to discussing the "prophecy" itself; she knew what it implied. She didn't believe it for a moment, but did worry that the others might – especially Ron. Hermione sat in her chair, her hands clasped tightly together, her head bowed. She would not contribute to this discussion; let them figure it out for themselves. Then they would see how ridiculous this was.

"Now that we have that settled, let's discuss the meaning. Do you have any thoughts, Hermione?" Minerva asked shrewdly.

Startled, Hermione's eyes swung to her former professor's. She did not want to talk about this. "I – I don't really remember ..."

"Here, Hermione," Ginny responded, sliding a piece of parchment in front of the unsettled young woman. "As soon as I heard 'It comes to pass' ... well, I already had a quill and parchment, so I thought it might be a good idea to write it down."

Hermione attempted to smile at her future sister-in-law, but managed only a slight grimace. With trembling fingers, she picked up the dreaded parchment and silently read the words.

After the light has overcome the darkness, the sun of the phoenix will shine upon the lioness. Heart to heart and mind to mind, they will speak only to the other. The dragon saviour will enrapture the brightest of the age. Her heart will be his reward. Separate, there is discord. Together, there is harmony. The sun of the phoenix will shine upon the lioness after the light has overcome the darkness.

She had hoped that by some miracle the words on the page would be different from those she had heard Luna utter earlier in the evening, but unfortunately Ginny had managed to capture the entire prophecy exactly as Luna had spoken it. Hermione shook her head slightly, not trusting her voice to remain impassive.

Wordlessly, she passed the parchment to Ron. He immediately handed it to his mother without even reading it, as if doing so would admit it held some grain of truth.

Molly was obviously troubled by Hermione and Ron's reaction, but then she cleared her throat and read the words aloud, so all in the room could be reminded of what the prophecy stated.

The room was silent once again as its occupants each pondered ways to interpret the meaning.

"We can all agree that the 'lioness' and 'the brightest of the age' must indicate Hermione, particularly given the time frame – 'after the light has overcome the darkness,'" Minerva said, sliding a glance at Hermione.

The murmur of agreement in the room was silenced when Hermione exasperatedly cried, "How do we know that means now? Professor Trelawney's prophecies came true, yes, but the first one took almost twenty years to be entirely fulfilled! How do we know this isn't for some other 'brightest of the age' twenty years from now?" She looked at Ron, attempting to smile encouragingly. "We don't know for certain that it's me."

It was Remus who explained. "Prophecies are certainly tricky things, but as far as I know, they are always revealed at the most prudent time. From the wording, it would be my opinion that this prophecy definitely refers to you, Hermione."

"There are no known instances of a prophecy being given well in advance of its needed time?" Hermione asked, hoping against hope that Remus was wrong.

Tonks immediately spoke up. "Sure there are! There's a whole room of prophecies in the Department of Mysteries! They haven't been fulfilled yet and some of them have been there for centuries."

Hermione latched onto Tonks' logic. "Yes, that's right! We saw hundreds and hundreds of prophecies in that room!"

Draco glanced at Severus and rolled his eyes. Hermione noticed and irritably snapped, "What?"

"That they were still in the room only indicates that no one had come to claim them, not that they had not yet been fulfilled," Draco drawled in his typical superior manner.

Hermione visibly deflated. Draco was right about that. She sneaked another look at Ron. He was not speaking; for once, he seemed to be holding his temper in check, but she could see that he was listening very carefully.

"Still," she said, "surely not all of those have been fulfilled? Doesn't anyone keep record of this type of thing?"

"I'm afraid not, Hermione," Minerva responded. "Many prophecies are never even registered with the Department of Mysteries, and though it may be surprising, no one is interested in keeping record of whether or not a prophecy is fulfilled. It is assumed in our world that when a true prophecy is spoken, it will be fulfilled. There is no reason to question that."

"I see," Hermione said as she struggled to maintain her composure. This was not what she wanted to hear.

"Regardless, my dear," Minerva told her, "what we need to decide this evening is whether or not this particular prophecy could refer to you, as well as who the other person mentioned might be, and what that could mean for ..." Minerva paused as she caught sight of Ron's stony expression. "Well, what it could mean for all of the involved parties."

Hermione thrust her hands into her mass of curly hair, tugged in frustration, then threaded her fingers at the nape of her neck.

"Fine," she said through clenched teeth. "I will concede that it could possibly be referring to me, although I am not saying I believe that it is." She loved Ron; she would hold onto that love with everything within her.

Concerned glances were exchanged throughout the room, but Hermione was unaware. Her attention was solely focussed on the table in front of her. She would not break down – not here; not now.

Hermione raised her head and looked around the room. Her eyes finally fell on her employer and friend. He had no vested interest in this matter; she could trust him to be objective.

"Severus, tell me, please. Do you believe this prophecy is about me?"

Severus had been quietly observing the discussion, only offering his opinion when directly asked. Hermione found herself drawn into his intense gaze as his dark eyes bore into hers, his index finger tapping a steady rhythm upon his arm. Her breathing quickened; she knew this look – she had known him since she was a child, after all – and she recognised it as an indication that what he was about to say was of the utmost importance.

"Yes, Hermione, I do," Severus stated, his voice devoid of any mockery or disdain.

Hermione sank back into her chair; her only thought was that this could not be happening to her.

Molly noted Hermione's growing distress and decided to move the discussion along.

"Why don't we discuss the rest of it now, dear," Molly said soothingly. "Interpreting the rest may shed some light on the matter – don't you agree?"

After a moment's hesitation, Hermione nodded. She was ready for the discussion to be over; she wanted to go to her room, curl up in her bed with her cat, and sleep for a week.

"Fine, dear. Now then – what was that line about hearts and minds? Oh, yes," Molly said, looking at the words on the parchment, "'Heart to heart and mind to mind speak only to the other. Apart there is discord. Together there is harmony.' Sounds to me as if it's talking about ..." Molly abruptly stopped speaking, a peculiar expression on her face.

"Sounds like what, Molly?" Remus asked, voicing the thoughts of several others in the room.

The Weasley matriarch shared a significant look with Tonks before answering, "Soul mates."

Molly was clearly uncomfortable now. Inwardly, Hermione allowed herself to feel a small amount of satisfaction. Now, you don't want to know any more either, do you? she thought.

Ron snorted and averted his eyes from the group, staring at the wall. He was otherwise silent, but again, Hermione knew him well enough to know that he was thinking, mulling over everything being said in the room.

Harry, however, had come to the erroneous conclusion that this latest revelation was a good thing.

"The other person it talks about has to be Ron, then," Harry concluded. "Right, mate? You're getting married – it has to be talking about you."

Draco couldn't help himself; he rolled his eyes once again and said, "It would be helpful if we actually looked at what the bloody prophecy says rather than making useless assumptions."

Harry glared at the pretentious pure-blood prat until his wife thrust her elbow in his ribs.

"Draco is right," Ginny pointed out. "The first line says 'the sun of the phoenix will shine upon the lioness.'"

"What the bloody hell does 'sun of the phoenix' mean?" Harry asked without thinking.

Ginny's elbow connected once again with her husband's ribcage. "That's about the Order, you dolt! It's obvious!"

Harry rubbed his sore ribs and said, "Oh. Well, that's good, right? Ron's a member of the Order. See? It makes sense."

Ron seemed to perk up a bit at that, hope overcoming the stony exterior he had been projecting since the discussion began.

Hermione's inner voice, however, was whispering all her misgivings concerning her impending nuptials. Yes, but if this is true – I don't believe our hearts and minds speak only to the other ... She immediately shoved the thought out of her head. She and Ron were to be married. Everyone had always known they would be married – they were perfect for each other. Certainly they bickered a little – all right, a lot – but what couple didn't? Obviously they had differing interests, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. After all, she thought, opposites attract, and all that rot.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Remus began speaking.

"So we have an Order member. What was the other line? Oh yes. The dragon saviour."

Ron's head popped up instantly, searching out his father's eyes. "Charlie," he rasped. "Charlie saves dragons all the time, and he's a member of the Order." His eyes closed as if to protect himself from the painful thought of his brother and fiancée as soul mates.

Hermione had known from the moment she'd heard the words spoken that this would be the conclusion everyone would reach. To hear it said aloud made it real – and it made her angry.

"Ronald Weasley! You honestly believe that Charlie could be my soul mate? Charlie – your brother?" Hermione said distastefully. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! I barely know the man, much less speak to him 'heart to heart' and 'mind to mind.' We have absolutely nothing in common!"

Ron struggled to suppress his anguish – and his temper. "Neither do we, Hermione! Name one thing, besides magic, Harry, and Voldemort, that we have in common. One thing!"

Hermione sputtered, desperately trying but failing to think of one thing – just one thing – that she and Ron shared in common that didn't fall under one of the categories he had mentioned. Unable to think of something – anything – she glared at her fiancé and retorted, "Don't be childish, Ron!" hoping that he had not noticed her hesitation.

Once again it was Harry who, in hopes of distracting everyone from the thought of Charlie, only succeeded in making matters worse. "Wait a minute, now. We don't know this means Charlie. I mean, 'dragon' could be talking about Draco! Draco means dragon, right?"

Draco's eyebrows shot up, his eyes wide with shock. "Whoa! Just a minute, Wonder-Boy. Don't drag me into this!"

At the mention of Draco's name, Ron's tenuous hold on his emotions snapped. His breathing was audibly strained, as if someone were sitting on his chest. Hermione watched in morbid fascination as his jaw clenched and unclenched. Abruptly, Ron stood, knocking over his chair in his haste.

"I have to go ... now. I can't stay here."

Hermione leapt to her feet, shaking her head in denial. "Please, Ron. Don't do this," she begged. His face was etched with a grief so profound it broke her heart.

"I can't ... I'm sorry, Hermione." He stormed from the kitchen, the door swinging behind him. He hadn't even looked at her.

Hermione stared, watching the door sway back and forth until it finally came to rest. As she collapsed into her chair, her face crumpled, and she dissolved into tears. The dam burst, and the feelings she had been keeping in check all evening finally broke free.

Molly and Luna were by her side in an instant, each wishing to offer comfort, but at the moment, comfort was the last thing Hermione wanted. Her emotions rolled over her in waves, and right now anger was at the forefront.

Hermione glared at Harry. "You had to go and mention Draco, didn't you?" she accused. "What were you thinking, Harry? And Charlie, too? Do any of you really think either of them could possibly be my soul mate? I certainly don't!" she screeched, her voice rising in intensity with each word.

Molly continued her attempts to console the overwrought young witch, rubbing Hermione's back in slow circles. "It will be all right, Hermione," she soothed, softly repeating the words over and over.

Hermione had finally had enough. "No. It is not all right. I walked in here this evening engaged to be married to the man I love, and I'm leaving without him. How the fuck is that all right?"

"Hermione!" was gasped by more than one person in the room; Hermione rarely cursed.

"I don't care," she seethed. "First it's Charlie, then it's Draco." Her eyes fell upon the dark-haired man seated across the table. "Next you'll be claiming it's Severus!" she exclaimed, gesturing in the man's general direction. "This is ludicrous!" she choked out before bursting into loud, messy sobs once more.

Abruptly, Severus stood up, his chair audibly scraping against the stone floor.

"My presence here is obviously no longer required. I have no desire to witness any more of the Weasley-Granger soap opera," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. He swept across the room toward the door, his black eyes as cold as ice, and his fists clenched at his sides. With a dramatic swirl of his robes, he was gone.

Hermione hiccoughed; her weeping had come to an immediate stop at Severus' words. For the second time that night she found herself staring at the kitchen door – she had thought he was her friend. How could he mock her suffering?

A fresh wave of pain washed over her and her eyes overflowed once more. Hot tears fell down her cheeks, leaving salty trails in their wake. This time, she allowed herself to find solace in Molly Weasley's motherly embrace.

Up next .... What does Severus think of all of this?