Disclaimer: Anything that looks familiar belongs to JK Rowling. I am not she. Everything else is mine.
A/N: Written for LJ helmetfest2008 with the prompt: Due to some unknown medical condition Hermione can't read for a week and must find some way to cope with the ensuing and resulting madness!
Feedback: Always appreciated.
A Week Without Books
By Xedra
Hermione was lying down in the infirmary with a splitting headache.
Earlier that morning. Neville Longbottom had cornered her, Ron, and Harry during breakfast, excitedly demanding they come with him to see the new plant he'd helped cultivate with Professor Sprout. The trio followed him to the large greenhouse, grinning at each other at the way he chattered on about grafting a cutting of his Mimbulus Mimbletonia with a cutting from a flowering cactus that Professor Sprout had harvested from the Forbidden Forest.
Professor Sprout smiled indulgently at her prized pupil and his friends when they entered the greenhouse and nodded for Neville to show them to the cultivating room in the back since she was elbow-deep in a pot of soil at the moment. He quickly led them there and proudly introduced the Mimbulus Floribunda. The cactus was spineless and covered in what looked like boils, like the Mimbletonia, but also had several tight clusters of glossy blue flowers that sat on the top of the plant like a hat. And as the cactus slowly pulsated, the petals of the flowers expanded and contracted, seeming to breathe with each movement.
Neville swelled with pride like a new papa as Ron and Harry congratulated him with hearty handshakes and solid pats on his back.
"It's beautiful, Neville!" Hermione admired the shiny petals and reached out to touch them, then abruptly pulled back. She turned to Neville and quirked an eyebrow. "Does it share the same charming characteristic of spewing pus as the Mimbletonia?"
Neville shook his head, "Oh no, she's much more dignified than that."
He gave a firm poke to one of the boils. The clusters of flowers gave a little shake and puffed a large cloud of sparkly blue pollen all over them. Harry, Ron and Hermione collectively gasped, then burst out laughing. The pollen stuck to their robes and hair and skin like glitter.
Professor Sprout came in then, tutted at the mess, and swiftly waved her wand over them, whisking away the pollen. They were all then merrily shooed off to their first classes.
OOOOOOOOOO
It happened during Ancient Runes. The moment she stepped into the classroom, her eyes automatically swept over the symbols and glyphs that were carved and painted all over the stone walls. They were enchanted to change every day and Hermione always looked forward to the challenge of deciphering them.
Instantly, she felt a throbbing ache in her temples. She frowned and pressed a hand to one temple as she eased into her seat and set her books down, then put up both hands, trying to rub away the pain. Staring down at her books, the words on the covers blurred. She blinked rapidly, but her vision didn't improve. She blinked more and squinted her eyes around the room and was confused that her vision was perfectly normal until her sight landed on anything written or scribed, then instantly blurred. Her eyes began to sting and water and the pain in her temples doubled.
Taking deep breaths to keep from panicking, she stood but immediately felt dizzy. She swayed right into Hannah Abbott, who gasped and caught her, then squealed frantically for help, alerting the professor and the rest of the students that were filing in.
Now she was in the infirmary with a splitting headache, a cold cloth over her stinging eyes and Madame Pomfrey waving a diagnostic wand over her head in slow circles. Hermione could hear her murmuring spells and felt a cool wash of magic sink into her body over and over, but felt no significant change in her condition.
Finally, Pomfrey stopped and gave a sigh laced heavily with frustration. She patted Hermione on the arm, "I'll just be a moment, dear." Pomfrey went to her fireplace, flung in a handful of floopowder and called for Professor Sprout. She stuck her head into the green flames and conversed with the herbology teacher for several minutes before stepping back and disappearing into her storeroom.
She soon sailed back out with five small glass bottles of some sort of liquid and two pouches of herbs, which she swiftly mixed up in a cauldron and poured into an empty potion bottle. After fitting the bottle with an eye-dropper plug, she removed the cloth from Hermione's eyes and had her sit up.
"Miss Granger, you seem to be having a rather complex allergic reaction to the pollen from Mr Longbottom's new plant. Tilt your head back, dear." Pomfrey squeezed three drops of the potion into each of Hermione's eyes.
The solution immediately relieved the stinging, and as Hermione blinked to clear her sight, she gasped, "Everything is blue!" It was like looking through a pair of blue-tinted glasses.
"That will clear up in an hour or so, don't worry," Pomfrey assured her. "Now, the dizziness you experienced is a more serious matter. It is triggered whenever you concentrate your mind while reading. Some sort of magical defense mechanism of the cactus they found in the Forest that mutated when the hybrid was created. Fortunately, it seems to be affecting only this one area of your brain."
Pomfrey smiled gently, the kind of smile Hermione recognized as preceding bad news. "Professor Sprout is working up an antidote for you, but until this allergy clears up, I'm afraid you will need to avoid any reading."
OOOOOOOOOO
"What?" Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief. He and Harry met up with her as she was leaving the infirmary, having heard what happened to her from several Griffindors the minute they stepped out of Divination class.
Hermione gave him a pained look, "Don't make me say it again."
"But," Harry shook his head, "how will you get through your classes, your homework—"
"Our homework," Ron muttered and got a quick elbow jab from Harry.
Hermione sighed, "I was given an antidote, but the effects of the pollen won't be completely expelled from my system for another week. Madame Pomfrey would have excused me from my classes, but then I would be a week behind on everything."
She thrust her chin forward stubbornly, "Which would be ridiculous as there's not a thing wrong with my ears."
Sticking her hand in the pocket of her robe, she pulled out an elegantly curved green-feathered quill. "Madame Pomfrey was kind enough to lend me a Quick-Notes Quill, so I'll listen during class and have notes to look over later. Everything will be fine." There was a finality in her tone that told the boys she wouldn't discuss it any further.
They passed by the library on their way to Potions and Hermione stopped. She stared at the wooden doors so longingly and for so long, the boys began to shuffle their feet. They looked at each other over her head, but neither knew what to do.
Ron finally tugged at her sleeve, "Erm, Hermione..."
Hermione sharply turned her head away from the sight of library and took a deep breath. Her fingers ached. She looked down and noticed she was gripping her books so hard her knuckles were white. Blinking back tears, she thrust the books blindly toward Ron, who had to practically juggle to keep from dropping them.
"Everything will be fine," she said again, her voice a wobbly whisper.
OOOOOOOOOO
After two days of feeling her heart break every time she passed by those doors, unable to go in, Hermione avoided the library like the plague and took longer and infinitely more winding routes to her classes, often just barely making them in time.
Although everyone could tell he was loathe to make any concessions to her affliction, Snape reluctantly allowed her to pair with Ron during lessons so he could read the instructions from either the potion book or the chalkboard to her.
It was in those moments she didn't mind not being able to read. They were warned not to disturb the other students, so Ron would lean close to her and read the instructions in a low tone. His voice sent vibrations down the back of her neck and his breath on her cheek sent delicious little shivers through her body. He stood so close, his chest nearly touching her shoulder, she would hold herself very still to keep from leaning back against him the way she wanted to. Instead, she would pretend she hadn't quite heard him and ask him to repeat a certain ingredient or direction, just to feel him close again.
OOOOOOOOOO
In her mind, words were suddenly everywhere and her eyes longed for them. Symbols and glyphs practically shouted from the walls and paintings, begging for her attention. In class, she had forced her eyes down on her desk to keep them from wandering up to the board or over to someone's open book, until the effort took too much of her attention and she eventually had to shut her eyes tightly and try to absorb what the professor was saying while the Quick-Notes Quill scratched furiously over her parchment.
Walking down hallways was torture. She no longer saw other students or her friends; she saw the books they carried so casually under their arms, those precious volumes her hands itched to yank away from them. The Griffindor common room was a sea of books and parchment and signs and banners, she couldn't face any direction and there not be something her eyes wanted to focus on and read.
Harry and Ron were concerned about how quiet she had become and could see the way she struggled to keep her eyes down. She was afraid to look anywhere but at her hands, restless hands with fidgety fingers that twisted and pulled at each other, plucked and smoothed at her robes, clasped and unclasped, or curled into frustrated fists. They would try to divert her attention with school gossip and talk of Quidditch, but after a while she would just smile sadly, say she was tired, and escape to the Girls Dormitory to cry herself to sleep.
Late one night, Ron stumbled out of bed after waking from a dream with a terrible craving for hot chocolate. Halfway down the stairs his sleep-fuzzed brain cleared and he realized he wasn't at the Burrow and only a few steps from his mum's kitchen.
He gave a jaw-cracking yawn and turned to go back upstairs, then paused. Was that --? He listened harder. Sniffling. A hiccup. Someone was crying. He twisted around to see if he could see who it was. There was a low fire burning in the fireplace, making the room very dim, but he could see the top of a bushy head from the back of one of the sofas. He knew those curls like he knew the freckles on the backs of his hands.
"Hermione?" he whispered. The sniffling stopped abruptly and after a long moment of silence, he thought maybe she wanted to be alone. Then he heard a sound caught somewhere between a whimper and a moan that yanked hard at his heart. He padded silently across the room and peered over her shoulder.
Hermione wore a light blue robe over her nightgown, her legs tucked under and her bare feet peeking out from under the hem. For some reason the sight of her naked little toes put strange flutters in his stomach. He swallowed thickly and tore his eyes away from them and focused on the top of her head, since he couldn't see her face behind that curtain of wild curls.
Her head was bent low, and at first he thought she had her arms wrapped around herself, but when he stepped around the couch to stand in front of her he saw she was actually hugging a book tightly to her chest. Her body shuddered as she took a deep breath and sniffled again.
"Hermione?" he whispered again and sat on the arm of the sofa.
She looked up at him and he was struck very still for a moment. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her chin trembled. Her eyes were filled with a helpless sorrow and it stunned him. It was a look he had never seen, never imagined he'd ever see on her face, and seeing it put an ache in his chest.
Hermione sighed and unfolded her arms, laying the book face-down in her lap. She looked down at the back of it and ran a hand over the worn leather bindings. Silently, she handed it over to him. He turned it over. Hogwarts: A History was embossed in elaborate script, the gilded lettering flecked and fading from years of handling. This was a well-loved book, Hermione's favorite.
"I've read it a thousand times, I'm sure," Hermione whispered, "but I never get tired of it. Somehow I'm always finding bits of information I've never read before." She fiddled with the ends of the belt to her robe. "It's always been a kind of comfort to me. Until now." She touched a finger to a corner of the book, needing a connection. "It'll be days before I can read it again." She dropped her hand back into her lap. "I don't know if I can handle this, Ron."
Ron looked pained hearing the shaky tone in her voice. For someone as book-mad as Hermione, he imagined it must be like a singer losing her voice, or a Quidditch player losing an arm. Utterly unbearable. He slid off the arm of the sofa and sat next to her. He held the front of the book to his chest so she wouldn't accidently see it. "Close your eyes."
Hermione blinked at him, "What?"
Ron waved the book a little, "I'll read it to you, if you want. You know, like in Potions." When Hermione just stared at him, he squirmed a little, thankful that the dim light concealed his reddening ears. He shrugged, "I mean, I know it's not the same as reading it for yourself, but—"
Hermione touched his arm, silencing him. "I'd like that very much," she said softly and smiled.
Ron nodded and gave her a pointed look, "Go on, now. Close 'em."
Hermione obediently closed her eyes and they both leaned back to sit more comfortably on the sofa. She heard the soft creak of the book opening and the whisper of the pages as Ron turned them. Being close to him, alone with him like this gave her those wonderful shivery feelings again and hearing the familiar words of the introduction read in Ron's low, hushed voice brought such a comfort to her heart that she tucked her hand around his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. He stumbled over the next few words and went back to start the sentence again. Hermione pressed her lips together to keep them from spreading into a wide grin.
Ron paused and chuffed a soft laugh. "You know this'll be the first time I've actually read this book." He cleared his throat suddenly, "Well, you know, um, all the way through, I mean."
Hermione barely managed to hold back a giggle, knowing full well that neither he nor Harry had read much, if any, of Hogwarts: A History considering the number of times she's had to quote it to them. She simply nodded and hugged his arm, "Of course, Ron."
The End