When We Were Beasts

Only Love Can Hurt Like This

The reporters arrived, bright and early. Their suits were freshly pressed and camera's freshly polished as they swarmed Hermione and Luna.

Hermione was finally being released from St. Mungo's, the last of the 'Dream Survivors' (as Rita Skeeter had named them) to check out. Luna had stayed with her, but as soon as Pansy's doctor cleared her, aurors were waiting to whisk her away. The cameras caught her being put hauled away, each reporter licking their lips at the juicy shots of Pansy swearing and hissing. Neville vowed to visit Pansy every day, and stayed with Hermione until she too was finally free.

Ginny had sent a letter via owl that she had failed at keeping Ron away, and to expect him any moment.

Hermione adjusted her top. Luna had gone to the Burrow and back for her, finding some of Hermione's spare clothes that she'd left there last time she'd stayed with the Weasleys. A simple black top and her least favorite jeans, but it was better than leaving in a robe.

It felt like she didn't recognize the body she was in. Her hair in the BackRooms had grown wild and unruly, almost down to her waist. She had become lean from her walks foraging, and from her diet of mostly fish, eggs, and greens. Her skin was paler here, than it was in The Haven.

She had some adjusting to do.

"Are you ready?" Neville asked gently. Luna was on her other side, both of them offering her support and understanding.

Hermione wanted to scream that no she wasn't ready. She barely recognized the body was in, and being around so many foreign sounds and sights again was giving her a pounding headache. No, she wasn't ready, because her heart was aching for Draco. He always came to save her when she needed him most, but not this time. Not now, when they were back in reality.

"Sure." Hermione offered him. It was all she could say. She braced herself.

Neville pushed the door open.

Occluding helped, but the flashing lights, yearning fingers, and constant flow of questions threatened to make Hermione curl into a ball and admit herself to the fourth floor.

Ms. Granger, what happened in your dream?

Is it true time passed differently there?

Where are Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott?

How did the other students die?

What made you last so long in the dream?

Neville kept a hand on her back as he politely urged the crowd to move back. Luna was much more forward.

You're being very rude." Luna scolded one reporter. "Please leave us alone. I wouldn't follow YOU around after you escaped torture."

It seemed Pansy had begun to rub off on her.

When they made it to the ground floor, Hermione saw a paperboy, selling The Daily Prophet. Hermione snatched a copy from his hand.

He made to yank it back, but stopped when he saw who it was that stole from him. Hermione could only stare at the cover.

It was her, unconscious in her hospital bed.

HERMIONE GRANGER, GOLDEN GIRL TO HARRY POTTER, SURVIVES THE BACKROOMS CURSE.

In a smaller column, as if it had once been the headline but something juicier came along, was Ginny and Narcissa's names.

PG. 7, READ ABOUT HOW HOGWARTS STUDENT GINERVA WEASLEY AND DEATH EATER WIFE NARCISSA MALFOY KILLED THE DARK LORD FOR GOOD.

It had been not just anybody, but Ginny and Narcissa. They killed Voldemort. Hermione would ask Ginny if he suffered when she saw her again.

Because she was engrossed in the paper, she didn't see Ron come up to her before it was too late.

"Give her space!" He yelled, even going so far as to push a journalist into the wall. Hermione couldn't react fast enough before Ron pulled her into his arms.

"Oh, 'Mione." He cried into her hair. "Oh thank Merlin you're ok."

Hermione heard the flutter of camera's clicking to get that perfect shot; the lovers reunited at last.

Except Hermione couldn't raise her arms to hug him back.

She didn't want to feel the fabric of cheap pullovers on her cheek when she'd grown so accustomed to cashmere turtlenecks. She didn't want to smell freshly mowed grass and baked bread when home smelled like green apples and peppermint. She didn't want his arms around her, she wanted Draco's.

Neville came to her rescue before she could beg Ron to let go of her.

"I think we're all overwhelmed." Neville said as he pried Ron off of her. "But it's good to see you, mate. Really."

Luna gave him a hug, allowing Hermione the chance to move back towards the entrance doors.

"Right. Right of course." Ron muttered. "I'm so glad to see all of you. I just can't believe it." He shook his head. "The last few weeks have been hell."

Hermione bit back her retort that the three of them had been in hell for months.

Ron turned to her again. "I'm here to take you home."

Hermione blinked. "Home?"

"My house, Hermione. You're coming home with me."

Draco had told her if they escaped together she would return to his Manor with him. That had been the home to return to.

Not the Burrow.

But where else would she go? Her parents were on another continent and didn't remember her. Grimmauld Place was no home to her. Draco was missing, and even if he did remember her Hermione couldn't confirm if he'd even still want her. Or if Narcissa would allow her to stay with them.

Hermione cleared her throat. She'd been in places she couldn't stand for months now. She could do it for a few more nights while she thought of a long term solution. "I'll go with you, Ron. Please, I need to lie down."

Ron nodded, his eyes full of sympathy and understanding.

Neville and Luna looked at her with concern.

"I'll be alright." She assured them. They could see through her excuse about 'lying down', but they kept quiet.

"I'll be by later this week." Luna said softly. Hermione could only give her a grateful look as Ron whisked them away.

****

Hermione felt sick.

Ron, Molly, and Arthur hadn't stopped doting on her since she arrived, and despite the fact that they were constantly invading her space, they didn't seem to see how fragile and closed off she was.

Ginny saved her most days. From journalists, the Ministry, and her own family Ginny helped her adjust.

But everyday, when Ron would try and hold her hand or kiss her cheek, when he would knock on her door late into the night, Hermione felt like she was going to vomit.

She didn't hate Ron. In fact, being back at the Burrow felt so nostalgic that it distracted her from thinking of the rooms too much. But even though Ron was her friend, and he had taken her in, Draco was all she could think of.

Hermione itched to leave, to look for Draco. It was painful to sit and have tea and pretend she was fine when she yearned to find him.

After nearly two weeks, Hermione couldn't take it anymore.

It was just her and Ron in the house.

Molly had gone to run errands with Ginny, and Arthur was at work. Ron was waiting to hear back on if he needed to finish his final year of school or not before he could become an Auror. He was itching for a spot, saying he was made to help people and stop any other dark forces from rising. It made Hermione roll her eyes when he wasn't looking.

"Ron," Hermione started gently. "There's something that happened in the rooms that I think you deserve to know."