Freedom Chapter 1, a harry potter fanfic

A massive thank you to CatherineMorgenstern for all her help and encouragement and for providing the cover image. Mwah.

The last thing Hermione remembered before she'd fallen into darkness was a green light edged with silver sparkles, followed by the most intense pain she'd ever experienced in her life. It had torn at her as it swept through her body, leaving behind the prickling sensation of pins and needles. And after that: nothing. She floated in a void without sound, thought or feeling, absent from the world and herself, sinking further into oblivion as an unknown length of time passed.

And then she felt something prod at her awareness, pulling her from the nothingness she'd sunk into. As her mind awoke, she recognised the sensation as pressure from someone's touch. From that moment on, her concentration narrowed as she focused on that feeling. Sometimes it would be a light brush across her skin that ripped her from the darkness. At other times she wouldn't feel, but she'd hear distorted, nonsensical sounds, akin to listening to a foreign language, underwater and with her ears stuffed full of cotton-wool. Yet she heard it.

After that, her periods of awareness increased bit by bit. But with that came the nightmares full of twisted memories. She dreamed of the final battle; of screams and blood and terror which tormented her mind in a never-ending circle. Around her, Hogwarts towered like broken teeth backdropped by the night sky. Rubble and bodies littered the ground. And then she'd see Harry and Voldemort, hatred twisting their features as they threw deadly curses at each other. The worry for her friend made her heart thump inside the cage of her ribs and then a sound erupted from her right. Her head would turn and... bottle-green light, edged with silver sparkles.

And then nothing until the scene replayed once again in a never ending loop.

Pain was the only thing which reminded her she had a body. It pulled her out of the nothingness faster than anything else could. So she began to crave that deliciously sharp sensation. But it wasn't the pain that pulled her free of the nothingness; it was the voices.

"I think she's waking up."

"Floo Potter."

The sound of retreating footsteps reached her ears and then Hermione felt her eyes being forced open before blinding light filled her vision.

"Miss Granger? Can you hear me?" a male voice said.

She wanted to call out that of course she could hear him, but she couldn't make her lips shape the words. Her mouth felt packed with cloth. Confusion muddled her thoughts. For a moment, all she saw was white before the blurred outline of a head slowly emerged.

"Miss Granger?"

She could only groan in response.

He moved his hand and she shut her eyes again, blocking out that harsh brightness.

"You're at St. Mungo's." He shuffled about beside her. "You've been unconscious since the battle." She heard the sound of bottles clinking and then the cool press of glass against her lips.

"Here, drink this. It's a restorative potion."

She opened her lips to let the syrupy substance ooze into her mouth. It coated her tongue, the sharp minty taste stinging her throat as she swallowed. She coughed, choking on the viscous liquid.

"Slowly, Miss Granger." He pulled the bottle away and began to fuss with her pillows, adding another one which caused her neck to cramp.

Her body felt leaden and her jumbled thoughts gave her a headache as she lay there. She licked her lips and tried to lift her arm but it wouldn't move. She thought maybe her finger might have twitched, but she wasn't sure. Her eyelids were more co-operative. They opened at her command and blinked when she wanted them to.

Her vision still blurred and she kept blinking, hoping to sharpen the edges and make the man come into focus. It would have helped if he hadn't been moving so much, but he continued to wander around the room, adjusting the sheets and rattling the potion bottles. She wanted him to stop, but when she tried to speak, all that came out was a feeble puff of air.

The sound of hurried footsteps came from beyond the door. Her eyes flicked towards the noise, just in time to see it thrust open.

"Mione!"

Her heart clenched when she recognised Harry's voice. It was deeper with a mature timber that hadn't been there before, yet it was undeniably Harry.

He rushed towards her and grasped her hand. "We've been so worried about you."

Hermione blinked as she tried to force her vision to work. When Harry came into view for the briefest of seconds, she was shocked to discover that in addition to sounding different he also looked different. He appeared older. He had stubble peppering his jaw, shorter hair and more defined features.

Panic rushed through her. "Harry?" she rasped.

"Yes!" He squeezed her fingers. "'Mione, it's me."

She shook her head in denial.

"Mr Potter, if I may have a word?" the healer interrupted from the foot of the bed.

Harry looked reluctant to move, but nodded nonetheless and leaned down to plant a soft kiss onto her forehead. His stubble scratched her skin and the unfamiliar sensation made her want to pull away. They left the room. The nurse remained with Hermione. She wore a pale blue dress that brushed the floor and a white apron and cap. Her gaze avoided Hermione's as she began to tidy the bottles on the table next to the bed. She wanted to tell her that the doctor had done that already, but worry sealed her lips shut.

All she could do was stare at the ceiling. She didn't understand why the nurse wouldn't look at her or why Harry and the healer were talking about her in the corridor. Because she knew they were.

It took forever for Harry to come back and when he did, she wanted him to leave again. He seemed so... different from what she remembered.

"Hey," he said, coming to the bed to sit beside her. It dipped under his weight and she rolled towards him.

Hermione focused on him, demanding answers. He didn't start speaking until the healer and nurse had left the room.

"Do you remember the battle?" he asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Well," he took her hand again before continuing, "During the fight, someone hit you with a curse. It knocked you unconscious and we brought you to St. Mungo's."

She frowned. That made sense. But she was awake now, so why did he look so worried? And why were the healer and nurse so nervous? Was she damaged? Was that why she couldn't move her arms and legs?

Seeing her alarmed expression, he spoke. "You'll be fine. It'll take a while for you to recover though."

Her breath rushed out as relief swept through her. She had to close her eyes to stop the tears from falling. She was okay. Harry was okay. Ron. Her eyes flew open.

"Ron?" she gasped.

Harry dropped his gaze. "Ron's fine, 'Mione," he replied.

She didn't believe him. He wouldn't look her in the eye and his foot kept jiggling up and down. "Harry?"

"Um... yeah. You've been out a while, 'Mione."

"Ho..." She coughed. "How long?"

"Three years."

Hermione stopped breathing. For a moment, she thought he'd said three years, but that was impossible. It had to be. Her eyes darted to the door as if Ginny or Ron were about to burst through and tell her Harry was joking. When the door remained closed, she flicked her gaze back to Harry. Pity filled his eyes as he watched her.

"Harry...?" she said, shaking her head back and forth in denial.

"You'll be fine. We're here for you, I promise."

She would not be fine. She'd lost three years of her life! How the hell was that fine? She didn't realise she was crying until Harry brushed his fingers across her cheeks.

"We'll get through this, you'll be fine."

He kept saying that, but it wouldn't be ever again. "Voldemort?" she whispered.

"Dead." He gave her a fierce grin which she couldn't return.

Hermione turned her gaze to the ceiling. There was a tiny crack above her head and the longer she looked at it, the more sure she was that it wasn't a crack, but a spider. Yet it hadn't moved so it couldn't be a spider, unless it was a dead one.

"Where's Ron?" she asked.

"Ah...he's at Grimmauld Place, we didn't want to overwhelm you," he rushed out.

Too late. She felt overwhelmed already. Ron visiting wouldn't have made any difference. Harry was hiding something. He had that nervous look that showed his unease and he couldn't look her in the eye for more than a second.

"Where's Ron, Harry?" she asked.

Harry shifted. "He's fine. I promise. We just thought..."

"Don't lie to me," she interrupted.

He sighed and shifted his eyes to the back of his hand. "Three years is a long time," he said.

"Not for me," she muttered, her voice beginning to weaken.

Harry winced. "Yeah, sorry." He drew himself up and stared at her in determination. "Ron married Lavender. A year ago."

Hermione frowned. Married? He was married to Lavender? But just minutes ago he'd kissed her. He'd looked at her so shyly and held her hand. And now he was married?

"'Mione?" Harry sounded worried. "We didn't know if you'd ever wake up. It devastated Ron."

"Clearly" she bit out.

Harry was fidgeting beside her. "I'm sorry. He didn't want to hurt you. He..."

"I'm tired," she said, cutting him off. She didn't want to hear him say another word. Not one. "Would you mind leaving me alone?"

An awkward silence fell between them, one she had no intention of breaking. Instead, she closed her eyes, feigning sleep. Harry knew what she was doing, but he didn't call her out on it. He just sighed, pressed another kiss onto her forehead and said, "I'll be back tomorrow."

Hermione waited until he was near the door before speaking. "Please, don't bring Ron."

"I... okay," he muttered.

Her eyes were closed when he shut the door. She counted to ten, sucked in a breath and then burst into tears, which in hindsight was a mistake because everything fell to the back of her throat and made it hard to breathe.

Three years? How could three years have passed without her knowledge? And Ron had married? It didn't seem real. Confusion battled with hurt as she lay there, a jumbled mess until the nurse returned. She was desperate for an explanation that would make sense to her. But the nurse continued to avoid her gaze.

"Miss Granger?" the nurse said, focusing on her nose.

Hermione bobbed her head.

"Lippy will help with your recovery." She snapped her fingers and a thick-lipped elf appeared. Her large ears flopped down onto her shoulders and swayed when she moved. She wore the most stunning silk pillowcase, draped around her body and cinched at the waist with green cord.

The nurse pointed to Hermione. "Lippy, you will look after Miss Granger until she recovers."

Lippy regarded the prone witch. "Hello, Misss," she said.

"Please, call me Hermione."

Lippy curtsied. "Of course, Mistress Hermione."

The nurse clapped and the sharp noise caused Hermione to wince. "Now, I have my rounds to complete. I'll be back to check on you later, Miss Granger."

"Thank you," Hermione said, pretending she hadn't seen the pitying look the nurse had given her before leaving.

"Does Mistress Hermione want a drink?" Lippy asked.

Hermione nodded and watched as the elf clicked her fingers and made a glass of water appear out of thin air. There was a purple straw in it that Lippy bent and eased into Hermione's mouth.

"Not too much," the elf cautioned. "Lippy doesn't want to make you sick." She pulled the straw from Hermione's mouth and set the glass on the bedside table.

The cool liquid filled her stomach, but her mouth felt much better, moist and not so painful to swallow. She could feel Lippy watching her and so she swung her gaze towards the elf.

"I didn't know elves worked at St. Mungo's," Hermione said.

Lippy nodded. "Lippy and friends work here now." She thumped her chest. "No longer have nasty Death Eater masters."

"Why not? What happened to the Death Eaters? Did they go to Azkaban?" The questions tripped out of Hermione's mouth one after another.

Lippy was shaking her head, ears swinging back and forth. "Oh no, Mistress, Azkaban was blown up. BANG!" She swirled her hands in the air. "Death Eaters couldn't go there, so they replace house elves. Make good workers."

Hermione's eyes widened in alarm. "Workers? I...I think you mean slaves."

"Not slaves, Miss, house elves," Lippy said.

"But it's the same thing," Hermione whispered.

Lippy patted Hermione's hand soothingly. "Rest now, Miss. Lippy will watch over you."

Panic seized her chest. "But what if I don't wake up again?"

"There, there, Lippy will watch." She clicked her fingers and conjured a chair. It was tiny and when the elf sat, Hermione could only see the top of her head. She then began to hum a strange lullaby.

Hermione stared at the ceiling and fought the drowsiness that sought to drag her back down into the abyss. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was full of questions. How could this be happening? The world had turned upside down and she didn't know which way was which anymore. Her eyes fluttered closed and though she tried, she couldn't make them open again.

Hermione did wake up again. This time to a darker room and no Lippy. Instead, the same nurse from earlier was seated beside her, reading a copy of the Daily Prophet. For a moment Hermione studied her, taking in the soft brown hair and wrinkled skin. She wondered if this nurse had been taking care of her for the last three years.

"Could I have some water, please?" The nurse jumped when Hermione spoke, dropping the paper to reach for her wand.

As soon as she saw Hermione's alarmed look she sat back down. "I'm so sorry! You startled me." She reached across to grab the glass of water. "Here."

Hermione took a long sip, nodding when she'd had enough. "Where's Lippy?"

"Oh. She had other duties to attend to. If you ever need her, just click your fingers and call her name."

"And your name is?" Hermione asked, whilst trying to click her fingers. She couldn't. They felt numb and heavy, like they belonged to someone else.

"It'll come back," the nurse said, watching her attempt at moving her fingers. "Your muscles haven't been used in a long time. And my name is Nurse Primrose."

Hermione nodded. "It's nice to meet you. Have you looked after me all this time?"

"No. Only for the last year."

"I..." She moistened her dry lips. "Lippy said the Death Eaters were made into house elves. I don't understand how that can be."

Nurse Primrose settled back into her chair. "Yes. Azkaban was destroyed, so there was nowhere else to house them." She frowned as she spoke, "It began as a rehabilitation programme; a way to integrate them back into our community. The Ministry decided that it would be best if they lived alongside us to learn the proper way to act and behave." Her eyes dipped to the floor. "It didn't work out very well as you can imagine. A way was found to bind them into servitude instead."

"Servitude?" Hermione said, unable to disguise her disgust.

Nurse Primrose drew herself up defensively. "It was for everyone's safety! They just wouldn't change. No matter what we did or how we punished them, they continued to spew hatred!" She lay her hands in her lap. "And now they can't."

Hermione looked at her in disbelief. Was she trying to justify turning the Death Eaters into slaves? And what the hell did she mean by punishment?

She narrowed her eyes at the nurse. "What did Harry have to say about this?"

Nurse Primrose blinked in surprise. "It was partly his idea. And he has a Death Eater in his employ at this time."

"So they get paid?" she snapped out. "And which Death Eater does Harry own?" She refused to use the word employ.

Nurse Primrose looked flustered. "No, of course they don't get paid. They get room and board. And Mr Potter employs Draco Malfoy."

Hermione gasped. "No! This is barbaric." She glared angrily at the ceiling. What was Harry thinking? How could he? And Draco? He was as much of a victim as the rest of them had been.

The nurse shifted in her seat, sensing Hermione's outrage. She pushed to her feet, intending to leave the witch in Lippy's care, but the moment she moved, Hermione speared her with a fierce glare.

"And would you happen to know if the Weasleys' have a slave?" she spat.

The nurse tightened her lips in annoyance. "I do." She strode to the door and opened it in preparation to leave. "Bartemius Crouch Junior." She marched out and slammed it shut behind her, leaving Hermione seething and alone.