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Dark Gods In The Blood	By : Hayseed Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3951 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
A/N: Thanks for the
feedback so far. And I suppose I ought
to tack on another warning -- most of the chapters end in sort of cliffhangers
(not this one, I don�t think), but since I update every day, I�m only asking
you to wait twenty-four hours :) Hope
you enjoy ...

Summary: A wandering
student comes home, a broken man pays his penance, and a gruesome murder is
both more and less than it seems. Some
paths to self-discovery have more twists and turns than others.

'>

Rating: R, for
intermittent dark themes, violence, and language

Disclaimer: Nothing
you read here (save the plot and bits of the text itself) belongs to me. Harry Potter and his cronies are the
property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros. (and someone else, probably, but not
me). All chapter headings are properly
credited to their sources.

Dark Gods in the Blood

by: Hayseed (hayseed_42@hotmail.com)

Chapter Two

He
was the only man of us who still �followed the sea.� The

worst that couldsaidsaid of him was that he
did not represent

his
class. He was a seaman, but he was a
wanderer, too ...

-- Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

Hermione Grangerled led tiredly. She�d spent the previous two days Apparating and Portkeying
halfway around the world to get to Harry Potter�s funeral and arrived,
exhausted, at the Leaky Cauldron in London only to find that there was not a
single room available. By the time
she�d managed to track down lodgings in Muggle London, it was nearly three in
the morning.

Hermione Granger was exhausted, mentally and
physically. No small wonder, then, that
all she did was smile at Ron Weasley as he goggled sousslyssly at her.

�But, but you�re ...� he stammered after a few moments.

�I�m back, Ron,� shid gid gently. �I couldn�t stay away.
Not now.�

He had recovered sufficiently from his shock to comprehend
her words, at least. �You�re back?�

�I�m back,� she repeated.

With nowhere near the level of exuberance that Hermione usually
associated with Ron, he walked around the casket and pulled her into a fierce
hug. �You�re back,� he said
unnecessarily in her ear. �Hermione --�

Patting his shoulder, she extracted herself from his
arms. �I don�t think now is the time
for such a long story, Ron.�

�Hang on,� he said, recovering himself further. �How did you know ...?�

�I remembered something Harry said in our seventh year,� she
replied wistfully. �He said he wanted
to be buried beside his parents.�
Hermione looked around the small cemetery in Godric�s Hollow, taking in
the three Potter headstones, the last one on the left by far the newest, flecks
of quartz in the marble glittering in the horribly persistent sunlight. �I couldn�t not be here, Ron.�

He hugged her again, as if reassuring himself that she was
real. �We were awfully maudlin
children, weren�t we?�

With a chuckle that may or may not have been a sob as well,
Hermione reached out a single hand to caress the top of the casket. �I can�t believe this,� she whispered. �It�s not right!� Her conviction surprised even herself.

�Right or not, love, it�s real,� he said sorrowfully. Swallowing mightily, Ron forced the next
painful words out in a rush, as if by saying them over and over, he might come
to believe the truth in them. �Harry�s
dead.�

�Harry�s dead,� Hermione agreed in what would have been a
thoughtful tone, save the slight tremor, trying out Ron�s mantra for
herself. �Harry�s dead.� Quiet, contemplative, hand lingering on the
wood and wishing she could see his face one last time but knowing she didn�t
actually want to. She would rather hold
her memory of Harry�s easy smile and snapping eyes, not the still death mask
she knew rested under the coffin lid.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley stood over their best
friend�s grave for some time, not speaking, not touching.

�Goodbye, Harry,� Hermione whispered, bowing her head over
the coffin and finally turning away.

Moment broken, Ron followed her with one last backward
glance at their friend. �Hermione,� he
said, taking advantage of his long legs to catch up to her. �Hey, Hermione!�

�What is it, Ron?� she asked, smoothing out an invisible
wrinkle in her robes and pushing a curl out of her eyes.

�Well, it�s just ...� he began. �Mum�s having everyone over for supper tonight, you know, and I
know she�d love it if you came.�

�Ron,� Hermione sighed.
�I don�t think --�

�No,� he said forcefully.
�Everyone would love to see you again. And I�ve promised to go �round myself, once I�ve gotten Fran�oise
settled the the kids wherever they�re going to stay tonight.�

�Fran�oise?� she asked curiously, supper forgotten.

�Oh, that�s right,� Ron said, more to himself than her. �You wouldn�t know, would you? Fran�oise is Harry�s wife.� To his credit, his voice only ced oed once
on the word �Harry.� �I think she might
try to go back to the house tonight.
She and the kids had been staying at Hogwarts, with Dumbledore, you
see. But I think she�s going to want to
go back home and she shouldn�t spend the night there in that house alone. It�s where ...� he hesitated, trailing off.

�I understand,� she said, a reassuring hand on Ron�s arm
once more. �And that�s true. She should be surrounded by her friends at a
time like this.�

�A time like this,� Ron said mockingly, but without
cruelty. �Why is it there aren�t any
proper words for what�s happened? �A
time like this.� A time like bloody what?�

Hermione pulled him unhesitatingly into an embrace as his
face crumbled and he began to cry in great heaving sobs. �Shh,� she clucked into his ear as he wept
into the crook of his neck.

�He�s dead, Hermione!
He�s dead and there was nothing I could do! Nothing anyone could do,� Ron cried into her shoulder.

�I know, Ron,� she whispered. �I understand.�

�You don�t,� he said disconsolately, lips moving across her
now wet skin. �No one does.�

Hermione remained silent at this, h cru crumbling at the
little boy timbre in his voice.

�Bloody hell, Hermione, my best friend in the whole
world is dead! It�s like ... I don�t
know what it�s like!� he roared, finally lifting his head from her neck and
giving her a little shake. �A part of
me is missing and I keep looking around for it. If you understand, Hermione, please, for Merlin�s sake, explain
it to me!�

Still quiet, she allowed herself to be pulled into another
hug.

As it was, Hermione very nearly jumped out of her skin as
she felt a small tug on her robes somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. �Unca Ron?� a tiny voice asked.

Sniffling, Ron released Hermione immediately and dropped
into a crouch, hands on his knees.
�Yes?�

A little girl of no more than two years old, with blonde
curls and round blue eyes, gazed adoringly at Ron. Hermione wondered who this china doll of a child was. �Unca Ron,� the girl repeated. �Mummy want. Bus gone.�

His tears were mostly gone.
�All right, sweet,� he told the girl, tapping her nose and picking her
up in one practiced motion.

The girl stared at Hermione with a wrinkled little
nose. �Who?� she asked bluntly.

mal>�That�s Hermione, sweet,� Ron told her softly, tickling her
belly and eliciting a babyish giggle.
�And Hermione, this beautiful little girl is Alice Potter.�

Eyes wide at the thought that this was one of Harry�s
children, Hermione offered the girl her best smile. �It�s very nice to meet, Al, Alice,� she said.

Nodding, the girl buried her face in Ron�s chest, apparently
overtaken with sudden shyness.

�She gets like that sometimes,� Ron said
apologetically. �But she�s usually a
chatterbox, once she gets to know you.�

Hermione grinned as Alice shouted indignantly into Ron�s
robes, �Am not box!�

�Oh, yes, you are, you little monkey,� Ron teased. �But come on, we�ve got to find your
mother.�

�Consider your goal accomplished,� a tired voice said from
behind Hermione.

Turning around, she saw a pale woman with hair that was
slightly more blonde than brown and swollen eyes. �Fran�oise Potter?� Hermione asked carefully.

With a short nod, the woman scooped Alice out of Ron�s arms
and frowned at Hermione. �I am. Who are you?� she asked in a tone just short
of accusing.

�Fran�oise, this is Hermione,� Ron replied. �Hermione Granger. You remember --�

�I remember,� Fran�oise said coldly, giving Hermione what
could only be described as a jealous look.
�It�s ... it�s nice to finally meet you, Hermione.�

�Likewise.� There
seemed to be nothing else she could say.
Why don�t you seem to like me? didn�t seem to be a good thing to
ask at the moment.

�Ron.� Turning away,
Fran�oise seemed to be ready to ignore her.
�I told Albus that I�m planning to take the children back ... back home
this evening. Would you ... I mean, do
you mind ...?�

He smiled sadly at her and gave her a sideways embrace. �Of course not, Fran�oise. I wouldn�t let you stay there alone
tonight at any rate and I�m glad I don�t have to bully my way in now. Would you like to leave right now?�

Her trembling lip belying her calm, Fran�oise Potter nodded
once jerkily. �I just have to collect
Nicholas -- he�s got away again. Albus
was kind enough to provide me with a Portkey.�

�Where did Nicholas get to, anyway?� Ron asked,
shoving his hands in his pockets and scanning the cemetery.

With a frown, Hermione began to survey their surroundings as
well. Quite possibly, Nicholas
as
Harry�s son, but she wasn�t about to ask this cold, falling apart woman about
it. But a slight movement around an
older, crumbling headstone caught her eye.
�Is that him?� she asked cautiously, pointing.

Squinting, Ron nodded and began striding across the field,
an awkward silence falling between the women, disrupted only by Alice�s few
noises as she toyed with her mother�s hair.
Soon, although not soon enough for Hermione�s tastes, Ron came back
carrying a sullen little black haired boy of indiscriminate age. There was a visible distance between the
two, quite unlike Alice�s previous clinging.
Nicholas Potter kept as much space between himself and his Uncle Ron as
he could possibly manage. �Ready to
go?� he asked Fran�oise, who just nodded again. �I�ll see you at Mum�s, then?� he asked Hermione awkwardly. �For a bit, at least.�

�I�ll be there,� Hermione promised as she watched Ron and
the remnants of the Potter family place their hands on a stone that proved to
be a Portkey.

She watched the empty space that they�d occupied for some
time before Disapparating herself.

-- --
-- -- --

�Yes?� the petite redhead asked with some confusion as she
opened the door.

Hermione squinted unbelievingly at her. �Ginny?
Ginny Weasley? My God, you
haven�t changed a bit!�

Clearly surprised, Ginny narrowed her eyes. �And you are ...?�

Grinning, Hermione resisted the urge to sweep her in her arms. �If you have to ask, Ginny, then maybe I
should just leave.�

It clicked, then, and Ginny�s eyes widened as a smile spread
across her face. �Hermione, is that
you?� she breathed.

�In the flesh.�

The two women exchanged a laughing embrace as Ginny pulled
her through the door and into the familiar Burrow. �I can�t believe it,� she chattered. �Mum will be so surprised.�

�Surprised at ?� c?� came Molly Weasley�s voice from
somewhere near the kitchen. �Ginny, are
you taking in ss ags again?� she asked as she walked into the hallway, dusting
off her floury hands on her apron as she took in her newest visitor.

�Mum,� a grinning Ginny began, �you�re not going to believe
this --�

�Yes, yes,� Molly said impatiently. �Well, Hermione Granger, as I live and
breathe, I never thought I�d see you here again. Maybe you two wouldn�t mind getting your
hands dirty settsetting the table?�

And some things never change, Hermione thought wryly as she
found her hands suddenly overflowing with forks and knives as Ginny struggled
with her pile of plates.

�I�ve no idea how Mum recognized you,� she said. �You look so different,
Hermione. So ... I dunno, grown up,
maybe.�

�It has been a while,� Hermione agreed, arranging her
handfuls of silverware in what she hoped was an acceptable fashion around the
tables. �How many people are going to
be here tonight, anyway? Ron didn�t
say.�

�Oh, so you talked to Ron, then,� Ginny said, distributing
her plates with a wand flick.

�Cheater,� teased Hermione.
�Yes, Ron�s the one who invited me, actually. He wanted to get Har -- erm, Fran�oise and the children settled
at their house.�

Eyes rounding, Ginny actually stopped folding napkins long
enough to stare at Hermione. �You mean,
they�re going back?�

�Why not?� she asked, genuinely confused.

�Boy, I could never go back to the place where my
husband died. Not to live, I mean,�
Ginny replied. �I always knew that
Fran�oise had a backbone, but Merlin!
It would give me nightmares.�
With a little shiver, she resumed her work on the napkins.

�Oh,� Hermione said in a small voice. It occurred to her as she borrowed one of
Ginny�s carefully folded napkins to wipe one of her thumbprints off of a spoon
that she actually knew very little about the whole thing. �Hey, Ginny?� she continued in that same
little voice.

She grunted noncommittally, beginning to distribute the
napkins and grimacing as she came up one short.

�Hod ..d ... how did Harry die?�

Ginny�s eyes closed.
�I don�t know,� she admitted.
�No one will talk about it, to be honest. Fran�oise knows, of course, and Ron, too, I think. Maybe Dumbledore, even. He was at their house right after ...� Clearing her throat after the long pause, she
continued in an even quieter voice. �It
was so sudden, Hermione.�

Hermione blinked at the fear in Ginny�s tone.

�I mean, if he�d been sick or something, maybe ... but all
of a sudden, there Ron was, standing in the kitchen, all covered with soot and
Floo powder. �Harry�s dead, Gin,� he
told me,� she said, eyes still closed.
�In a sort of scary, quiet voice.
Not like Ron, you know? He�s
usually so loud and happy. And that�s
all he would say, over and over.
�Harry�s dead.��

She remembered Ron from the funeral sadly.

�Anyway ...� Ginny
straightened up and opened her eyes.
�The papers just said he �died at home,� whatethatthat means,� she said
briskly. Matter-of-factly, she folded
another napkin and laid it by the last plate.

�Doesn�t that usually mean ... suicide?� Hermione asked.

With a little shrug, she began fiddling with a corner of the
tablecloth. �Come on, Hermione. Harry Potter went to hell and back without
killing himself.�

Hermione caught herself fidgeting with the spoon she�d been
polishing and willed herself to put it down.
�I know,� she replied. �I
know. It�s just ...�

�Frustrating,� Ginny completed with a sad smile. �And you, dropping into the middle of it
all, not even knowing the pitiful amount that I do. Why did you come back, anyway, Hermione? It�s been so long.�

Shaking her head, she wondered how to answer such a
question. �I had to.�

Ginny studied her with narrowed eyes. �I�ll let it pass,� she told her. �For now.
But only because I know Mum will be setting out supper in less than ten
minutes. I can smell the bread
baking. Want to go roust everyone out
of their hiding places and give them a good surprise?� she asked, mood shifting
abruptly.

Hermione allowed herself to be pulled along good-naturedly. This was certainly the Ginny Weasley she
remembered -- perceptive and exasperating all in one breath.

The Burrow was far more full of people than she�d originally
thought. All in all, she and Ginny
laughingly dragged nearly a dozen people out of various rooms with the promise
of a Molly Weasley feast. As Ginny had
surmised, nearly every single person they saw was absolutely floored by the
sight of a shyly grinning Hermione announcing the meal. The few that were nonplussed simply hadn�t
known Hermione very well previously -- Charlie Weasley and his small family,
and Bill and his new bride.

Neville Longbottom�s reaction was by far the most hilarious
-- he didn�t speak a word for a full two minutes, mouth and eyes growing
increasingly wider. �Come on, Neville,�
Hermione had chirped. �It�s not like
I�m a ghost or anything.�

�You might as well be,� Neville replied faintly, letting
Ginny take his arm and lead him of thf the sitting room without another
word. Arthur Weasley had followed him,
flashing Hermione a jovial grin.

And now the entire group was seated in the dining room,
platters of food clattering loudly as they were passed back and forth and
silver clinking against plates as people began to eat. Hermione frowned at the empty chair on her
left as she sipped at a glass of water.

�Oh, Ron will be along shortly, dear,� Molly said, catching
her look. �I know he wants to make sure
the children are ...� Trailing off, she
sighed forlornly, tearing a piece of bread into crumbs on her plate.

�Oh, Mum,� Fred said tenderly, patting her arm.

Her eyes were suspiciously bright. �I can�t help it, dear,� she replied. �One minute, I�m fine, everyone�s fine, and then it just comes
crashing back down. That poor,
beautiful boy.�

�It was a lovely service,� George tried. �Even the Muggle bits.�

�And the flowers were nice,� Fred continued, picking up his
ber�ser�s train of thought. �Even those
ridiculous daisies that Dursley fellow carried in.�

�I wonder,� Molly said, ignoring her sons� efforts, �I
wonder if those babies will ever know how much their father loved them.�

�Of course they will,� Ginny exclaimed from
Hermione�s right. �Mum ...�

Bowing her head for a few moments, Molly finally emerged
tear-free but sniffly and picked up her fork again. �I�m sorry,� she said to the table in general. �It comes and goes, like I said.�

�Nothing to apologize for,� Arthur told his wife gruffly,
causing Hermione to suspect that he was fairly near weeping himself. �Perfectly natural.�

�Well ...� Molly said sternly. �We shouldn�t be talking about such things, in any case. We should be happy. Harry would want us to be happy.�

Personally, Hermione thought that above all things, Harry
would want them to be honest, but she wasn�t about to say that out loud. It would be better to simply allow Molly her
own convictions.

�Hermione,� she said suddenly. �I�m sure you�ve got an interesting story for us.�

Coughing into her water and uncomfortable with the sudden attention,
Hermione tried desperately not to fidget with her napkin. �Not much to tell, really,� she
stammered. �I was gone for a while and
now I�m home for a bit.� She offered
Molly her best smile.

Ginny nudged her childhood friend. �Come on, Hermione, there�s got to be more to your life than
that. You�ve been gone for what, ten
years?�

�Thirteen, actually,� said Ron�s tired voice coming from the
kitchen. He came into the dining room
with a self-deprecating smile and slouched down into the empty chair. �Well, nearly at any rate. Sorry I�m late, but Alice wanted a story.�

�How is everyone?� Molly asked.

Supper was a surprisingly solemn affair. Hermione wondered at the lack of the usual
Weasley rambunctiousness. Even at the
darkest moments of their strange childhoods, the Weasley clan could always be
counted on to keep everything in proper perspective. Perhaps it took this -- the death of a beloved son -- to bleed
that life out of them.

The silences -- and there were many -- were strained and the
conversation deliberately light.
Hermione heard all about Wimbe�s e�s Quidditch prospects (courtesy of
Ginny, who apparently worked with the team in some way that Hermione couldn�t
figure out) and all about some interesting new project development in the
twins� ever-burgeoning shop. By the
time Molly brought out dessert, all safe topics seemed to be exhausted. Arthur timidly asked his eldest grandson how
he felt about entering Hogwarts this next term, but the table fell ominously
silent as everyone probably considered in unison that Harry had attended
Hogwarts.

Hermione was once
again cajoled, over blueberry cobbler, toale ale them with tales of her
mysterious adventures, but she demurred again.
It was curious, but she found herself rather surprised at her sudden
belief that it was none of the Weasleys� business where she�d been and what
she�d done. She allowed them to pry out
of her the fact that she�d spent most of pas past decade in Tibet, but nothing
more. Ron had raised his eyebrows at
her, a blueberry husk between his teeth catching her attention for no apparent
reason, but remained silent.

All in all,
Hermione bid farewell to Molly Weasley and her clan with something much like
relief, allowing Ron to walk with her to the front gao:p>o:p>

�Fran�oise would
like you to come by the house tomorrow,� he said with no preamble.

She was glad for
the darkness masking her awkwardness at the thought of encountering that woman
once again. �Really?� she asked
skeptically.

Ron sighed -- she
knew, even though she could not see it, that he wore his familiar look of
exasperation. �All right, fine,� he
replied. �I want you to come by the
house tomorrow. I think you ought to
talk to her. Besides, I�d like to spend
some time with you, you know.�

�I don�t know what
we have to talk about,� she said. �But
I�ll come.�

�Excellent.� His teeth flashed in the starlight. �Come by the main Ministry building tomorrow
morning around, say, nine? I�ll meet
you at the front and we can Floo on over.�

�The Ministry
building?� she echoed, curious.

She felt a finger
tap her nose playfully. �My goodness,
you have been gone for a long time,� he
retorted. �You do remember where it is,
don�t you?�

Falling back into
old habits long forgotten, Hermione grinned at him. �Shut up, Weasley. I�ll
be there.�

�I know,� he
replied earnestly.

And then he was
gone. Probably gone back to Harry�s
widow -- he�d already said he wasn�t going to leave her in the house alone for
the night.

Wondering at what
she�d stepped intermiermione Disapparated herself, regaining her balance
quickly as the contents her hotel room came into view. She told herself that she should go to
sleep, that today had been very emotionally draining and tomorrow was not
looking to be any better, but her eyelids simply refused to close.

Somewhere around
one AM, she simply gave up on the notion of sleep and threw off her blanket
with a huff. She turned on the
television, marveling at herself, falling into childhood habits so rusty from
disuse that it took a moment for her to recall how to operate the remote. It had been a long time since
she�d been around Muggle technology, after all.

Settling on an old
black-and-white sitcom whose name she could not recall, Hermione tried to lose
herself in the mindless banter. Trying
to forget why she was back in England for the first time in her adult life and
utterly failing.

-- -- --
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Dark Gods In The Blood