The Anti-Heroine || A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter LXV

Warning: recollection of past sexual assault in semi-vivid detail. Will be in italics and marked with *** if people want to skip it. Also, there's some violence and gore. You have been warned :)

CHAPTER LXV:

Hermione's POV:

"He can't do this!" Draco's face was horrified as he looked up from the Prophet, where Rita Skeeter's article had been rushed through overnight printing to make the front page. The title hadn't even needed any embellishments, no clever puns or alliteration– it was enough of a shock factor on its own:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE ADOPTS BOY-WHO-LIVED!

"Unfortunately," Hermione said bitterly, "he can."

She was not coping well with it. In fact, Harry was coping better then she was– she'd woken up twice during the night in a cold sweat before taking Harry's Invisibility Cloak and sneaking off to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, like back in their Third Year with the fucking dementors. She'd spent over an hour sitting on the floor of the shower, trying to let the steaming hot water boil away the ice creeping inside her veins as she stared at the tiled floor and watched how the colour seemed to be draining out of her surroundings, seeping away to leave everything dark and grey and trying to push in on her, settling right on her chest so she couldn't breathe–

Yes, she really wasn't coping well with it.

Harry was facing the situation with a strong-minded resolution that was almost heartening to witness. Having taken Tom's words to heart he seemed determined to infiltrate the Order of the Phoenix and Hermione didn't have the heart to point out that technically, doing so would not be considered 'remaining neutral' insofar as not taking a side. If– when– he did this, Harry would officially be actively acting in the interests of the Dark. He'd be spying for Voldemort against Dumbledore.

Daphne, tossing down her own copy of the Prophet and scowling fiercely, looked up to meet hers and then Harry's eyes. "Don't forget, we are your friends and we are here for you. I expect you to tell us how we can help you. If you do not, we will find ways to do so ourselves." She declared and, despite herself, Hermione had to smile slightly. Just leave it to Daphne to make offering help sound like a threat, she thought fondly.

Draco, Blaise, Theo and Tracey were all making sounds of agreement, Luna was nodding along determinedly and even Fleur's face was set in resolve. "Just tell us what to do," Blaise spoke for them all, grim but his face set.

"Thanks guys," Harry said, a small but genuine smile lightning up his face. "But right now, this is what needs to happen."

"So there's a plan?" Draco asked, looking relieved.

"There's a plan." Harry confirmed with enough confidence in his voice she was almost reassured.

But, as it turned out, when it rained it fucking poured– Harry was called up to Dumbledore's office just two days after the news broke to be told by the old bastard that over the upcoming holidays he'd be staying with the Weasleys.

The goddamn fucking Weasleys.

The Weasley twins were not dealing particularly well with losing Ronald– or their sister, she supposed. And despite McGonagall and Snape's best efforts, the Slytherins were copping the brunt of their... unhappiness. Some of the older Slytherins had taken to escorting the younger years around, and their fifth, sixth and seventh year prefects had started a rotating self-defence 'club' where they taught the younger Slytherins counter-curses to common 'prank' spells, curses and jinxes, as well as duelling and dodging practice.