August | Hermione Granger x OFC

Epilogue Part 2: Trials and Tribulations

A/N: ok listen up. i don't know if this will be everyone's cup of tea. if you've read this fic more than once you might find some of this a bit boring. if you've only read it once you should be good? basically, there's lots of flashbacks. i tried to keep them brief enough and skipped some parts, but i thought it would be kinda cool if the epilogue included flashes of several important scenes from throughout the fic. but don't get it twisted! they're actually mostly from HBP and DH, and unfortunately none of them are fluffy or romantic, or cute scenes from brighton for example, or fun scenes with the ravenclaws, etc, because that wouldn't make any sense in the context

basically it's like a trip down memory lane except all the memories are terrible LOL

em yeah. this is a long one. actually i think it's the longest one. so have fun. i know robyn won't

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Everything was so bright - was it always like this? Her eyes ached. Her body ached. Her right hand throbbed. Her mouth felt like cotton. Her stomach cried out for food. Her legs were so stiff that she'd had to be dragged along by Aurors, neither of whom she recognised - not that she had the energy to lift her head and look.

She didn't know what was going on. She'd been taken from her house - no, her cell, only for a bag to be thrown over her head, and from then she had been pulled in every which way, and there were voices and bright lights and pushing and shoving. The voices were loud and demanding, calling her name, telling her to look at them - which she thought was pointless: bag on her head, remember? - asking her questions, questions she couldn't comprehend, never mind answer.

Not that she could muster more than a croak, anyway.

She felt her starved stomach swoop, the lights stopped flashing, and the voices became distant echoes until, finally, there was silence. Then: "Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

The sound of an old gate opening and closing could be heard - she must have missed that before - and then she was being pulled again for several long minutes before the bag was ripped from her head.

Everything was so bright - was it always like this? Her eyes ached. Her body ached. Her right hand throbbed. Her mouth felt like cotton. Her stomach cried out for food. Her legs were so stiff that she'd had to be dragged along by Aurors, neither of whom she recognised - not that she had the energy to lift her head and look.

"...do you understand?"

Oh. They were talking to her. Had been talking to her for a while. They were on one side and she was on the other. There was a wooden table between them. The chair she sat in was mildly uncomfortable but nowhere near as bad as the rock in Azkaban.

The bed. The bed in Azkaban.

"Rosier, do you understand?"

She swallowed heavily and made a grunting noise that was neither "yes" nor "no", which, apparently, was satisfactory, because the lady Auror, a severe-looking woman with sharp features, slid a glass with clear liquid in it across the table.

"Drink."

Robyn didn't hesitate, picking the glass up between her cuffed hands - when had that happened? - and downing it eagerly, greedily. Her throat burned with every swallow but she didn't care. She'd never felt so thirsty in her life. She took no notice of the watching Aurors, or the slight man standing in the shadows of the room scribbling on a clipboard.

After finishing her drink in what she was sure was record time, she was being slipped another. This one was emerald green. Apple juice?

She gulped it down and almost immediately felt marginally more aware, more conscious - a Pick-Me-Up Potion or something similar, she thought. Not apple juice, but better. Though, she also thought that she'd need about two dozen Pick-Me-Up Potions to feel even close to normal again. They clearly underestimated just how bad Azkaban had treated her over the past seven months.