Blood Below the Stars

Summoned

The baby's cries echoed throughout the empty halls of Grimmauld place. Hermione stood in the hall for a moment, still uneasy of the constant chill in the air, and the science defying silence of the house. The walls where still coated with a forlorn looking wallpaper that the boys had promised to fix but never did. The carpet still smelled dusty no matter how many times she cleaned it, no matter what home remedy Mrs Weasley promised would sort it. At least there were no more elf heads or mouthy portraits. No, the house was pretty much empty now. Bland and bare, unloved.

She had been reluctant to agree when Harry and Ron had wanted to move in together, but after a while she realised it was probably her only viable option. Since her parents return from Australia it had never been the same. She knew they had all loved each other dearly but she couldn't help but feel like there was a hidden anger there, an anger that she had betrayed them, deceived them and left them. Even if it was for their own good. If she was honest with herself she couldn't live with that guilt everyday. Besides, she and the boys had a world to rebuild together, and after months of searching and fighting together she wasn't sure if she could be anything else other than the brains of the golden trio. She wished he had had the courage to move on, but she convinced herself that they needed her - but the truth was she needed them. Especially now.

Her eyes skimmed over the pair of shoes Ron had left in the hall. Gathering dust, unworn for months. She leaned against the wall, the weight of the baby in her arms pulling her down. She had never been so body tired, so emotionally defeated. It seemed as though gravity was pulling her further and further towards the earths core and she fought as hard as she could to remain standing. There were things that needed doing, she reminded herself. There was no time for this.

She went into the kitchen and flicked her wand at the kettle. It was soon whistling away on the stove while she busied about, trying to transfigure a bench into something that vaguely resembled a crib. It was shabby and rushed and she could almost hear professor McGonagall stick her nose up at it, but she found it hard to care. Giving it a small kick with her foot and deciding it was safe enough she settled the still crying baby down while she rummaged through the changing bad she had found: Two baby grows, half a tin of formula, a bib, a bottle, a pack of wipes and a hand full of nappies. Luckily, she had helped her mother babysit her baby cousin through out the holidays so she kind of knew what she was doing. She gulped. Her baby cousin Lucy, suppose she was gone now too.

After she had fed and changed him and put him down to sleep she finally sat down. She watched him, asleep, oblivious to the world. He would not remember his mum or dad did he have brothers and sisters? She'd never know. The poor thing would never even know his name. Tears started to form in her eyes. She shook her head. She didn't have time for this. A thousand things to do – but she didn't know where to start. She wanted to shower, to change but that would have to wait. She had to speak to the ministry, she had to get the baby somewhere safe, she had responsibilities, as always, that needed to put above herself.

She walked towards the fire place and threw a handful of floo powder into it, gently kneeling she pushed her face into the green flames.

'Arthur Wealsey's Office – Ministry of Magic' she said clearly.

She watched as the green flames rippled and twirled, making her vision kaleidoscope until finally it stilled and she could see into the small familiar office of Mr Weasley.

Mr Weasley was sitting at his desk, his quill scratching viciously against parchment, ink sputtering and nib cracking under the pressure. She cleared her throat a few times before he noticed she was there. He shook his head as though she had woken him up from a day dream. She couldn't help but notice that his hair was looking greyer than ever, perhaps his next hair cut would finally cut away the last of his famous red hair, holding on for dear life right at the very tips. He looked as tired as Hermione felt.