Still Life With Flowers
Hermione has been petrified. She can't
see, hear or speak ---- or can she?
A visitor knows.
Original story material is the property of the fanfic author; other material of Rowling et al. falls under the usual disclaimer. Lyrics from Can You Read My Mind (Maureen McGovern and John Williams) for Superman, 1978.
Like a little girl shivering!
You can see right through me;
Can you read my mind?
Ron approached Hermione, gazing longingly into her eyes.
Hermione remained expressionless, and said nothing. Being petrified will do that to you.
Each day he visited her in the infirmary, Ron always chose to sit on the left side of the bed, where Hermione's eyes looked straight at him.
Ron was joined momentarily by Madam Pomfrey, making her rounds. Though this patient made no demands on her time, Pomfrey had one duty: eye drops, four times daily. The soothing wash was needed to keep Hermione's wide-open eyes moist.
Pomfrey was gentle but adamant. "I tell you, Mr. Weasley, there's just no point in talking to a petrified person! But, if it makes you feel better...." She padded away to treat the other paralysed victims.
Ron waited until Pomfrey had done her work and left the ward; even then, he whispered his words.
"Hi, Hermione. Harry will be along in a few minutes. Sorry we couldn't come last night. It's my own fault; I've been having trouble falling asleep at night. Yesterday, I nodded off in McGonagall's class again... third day in a row. McGonagall had to do something, and she gave me detention. So I was polishing trophies again last night. You remember me telling you what a joy that is, huh?"
Ron's whispers just barely reached her ears. Did it matter? If Pomfrey was right, Hermione's heart and life were poised in mid-beat. Her brain would have no activity until the antidote was applied, and she could not possibly see or hear what was going on.
Pomfrey, for once, was not exactly correct.
It's all right, Ron,
thought Hermione. I understand. I only wish you could hear me. Really, you should try to get your sleep. Don't sit up nights fretting about me; I'll be fine soon. I'm the one who can't sleep. I have to lie here all day and all night, alone with my thoughts. You shouldn't have to. I love your visits, and look forward to them.Ron sighed; during these visits, he often sighed. Sometimes, his eyes teared.
"I'm just hoping this antidote works, Hermione, 'cos I'd hate for anything to happen to you. I'd hate myself for all the tacky things I said, and arguing with you, and all that. I wouldn't want to hurt a friend like that and never get the chance to say I didn't mean it, I didn't mean any of it to hurt. Please be okay."
I'll be okay, Ron. And I'm so sorry for all the times I acted so high and mighty. That wasn't right. Wish I could tell you some way.
"It's just... well, I've been worried," sniffled Ron. "What if they un-petrify you, and ... you're... not there?"
A tear ran down his face.
You can't very well tell I'm crying with you, can you? Oh, poor Ron....
The eye drops ran down her face.
Through the blur, she could see someone else entering the ward. It was Harry, with a bunch of freshly-picked golden azaleas for the bedside table. As always, he sat to the right of the bed, never challenging Ron's preferred chair. He spoke in a gentle voice, but aloud.
"Hi, Hermione, We're back."
Sorry I can't turn to see you, Harry, but it's so wonderful to hear your voice too.
"It's another nice day outside. Spring's really coming along now; it's about time! Wish we could take you to see it, Hermione. The flowers are all out, and the sunshine feels so warm and comfy!"
Oh, I know. The sun zips by that window so fast; still, it shines on me for a few minutes, and it's warm and so wonderful after the long Winter.
"Sorry I didn't send word to let you know Ron and I couldn't visit you last night. Pomfrey's a great doctor, but she's so convinced you can't hear any of this. I couldn't ask her to talk to you for us."
It's all right, Harry. Pomfrey's terrific as always. While she'll never admit it, when she brought my drops at Noon, she said, 'Here we go, dearie.' Maybe she's softening!
"I could have come alone last night, but I had a thought about all this, and wanted to see Dumbledore about it. As Ron might have told you, he's been so worried about you he's losing a lot of sleep over it -- and he's not going to be able to visit if he's in detention for snoozing in class."
Harry, you and Ron are lucky to have each other as close friends. And I'm lucky to have both of you.
"So, I spoke to Dumbledore.... and I brought someone else to visit with you, who might help."
"What's this?" asked Ron.
I don't understand either. I saw you come in alone, Harry.
"And here's your other visitor."
Hermione saw Ron's eyes move from Harry toward herself, and felt someone touching her hair in the back. Then came a voice; a male voice, and certainly not a whisper, but only Hermione heard it.
A tip of the hat to you, milady. Amazing how you can withstand not talking for so long -- especially a chatty Gryffindor girl!
Where are you? I can't see you -- I just hear you in my head. Who in the world... oh! Is this.... the Sorting Hat??!!
One and the same. Shall I cheer you with a song?
You can hear me! Bless you! Oh please, please tell them I can hear them, and I'm all right! The creature that did this was a baselisk; I think it's traveling around the school in the pipes!
I can't really tell them all of that, you know. I can't even tell them you're awake.
What do you mean? Of course you can!
I have to think of them, too. They'd only fret the more, you all alone with nothing to do and no one to talk to. Why, Potter would be tiptoeing in here at all hours of the night, and Weasley would start bunking off classes to be here all day. I can't do that to them.
But -- the baselisk!
Calm yourself. I can tell the Headmaster. But these two will figure it out, all too soon. As usual, Potter will go running off, headstrong and head first, charging into a battlefield of deadly traps, then desperately think his way out -- for whatever reasons drive boys to act like men. Weasley will foresee what needs to be done, and if Harry is headed in that general direction, gladly go with him through the gates of hell, with his knees knocking -- for whatever reasons drive men to act like boys.
I see you know them as well as I do! But... if you can't tell them anything, why did Harry bring you, then?
At the least, I can reassure them that everything is all right with you. That should be sufficient. You can tell them about it later. I'm sorry you'll have to wait.
Okay; thank you. Tell them whatever you can to protect them, please? I don't want the baselisk to kill anyone. And -- send my love.
That would be telling.
Oh, bother, this is so frustrating. Drop them some hints, won't you? I haven't talked to anyone in weeks, and now you're getting secretive on me. Then too, if they don't know I'm awake in here, they won't bring you back, will they?
I'll be here, Granger, trust me. Mr. Potter had an idea on that. See you later.
Wait! I have an idea too! Just a one-off, but maybe --
What?
I may have a way to tip them to the baselisk, without disclosing I'm awake!
How, may I ask?
I had something in my hand when I was petrified... oh, I hope it's still there! Let's see; the mirror was in my right hand, so it'll be on Harry's side. Can you think of an reason for him to check my left hand?
If you wish. I will lead Harry to it -- if you won't feel guilty for whatever happens. You realise these two will go chasing after it, as I said. For your sake, I hope they will come back in one piece.
Me too. But do it. Thank you for coming by! We'll see you when this is all over. If they take you to Colin and Justin, tell them I said hello, and wish them well... and Sir Nick, too. With any luck, we'll beat this.
Of course you will! Pardon me a sec, now, while I wind up the impatient Mr. Potter....
"GRYFFINDOR!" said the hat.
"Uh..we knew that," said Harry.
"Oh, just joking, Potter! Allow me. It's a little sorting-hat humour."
"Yes. Very little. What can you tell us?"
"I'm happy to report Miss Granger is present and accounted for, as expected; success story number two."
"Wonderful!" exclaimed Harry. "Let's go for the others."
Ron was miffed whenever he felt he was two steps behind Harry in a conversation. "If I might interrupt your fun, Harry, could you fill me in?"
"Oh! Ron, sorry," replied an excited Harry. "I asked Dumbledore if I could bring the hat and try to find out if the petrified folk were all right. He allowed it, and a few minutes ago, Pomfrey and I used it to check Sir Nick. The hat reported Nick was fine. Now we know Hermione's still there, too, and it should work on the others."
Now Ron was just as hyper. "But can she hear us? Is she comfortable? Can we do anything for her?"
That's my Ron!
The hat demurred. "A little knowledge can be dangerous, you know, and I have to protect the patients' privacy and your own well-being. So, I can't answer all your questions, Mr. Weasley. But visits to the sick are always worthwhile somehow, even when the patient might not let you know it right off. It's worthwhile to you in the end, isn't it?"
"Well...yeah, sure."
"Then keep it up, Mister Weasley. You'll feel better knowing you made your visits."
"But can Hermione hear us?" Ron persisted.
TELL HIM, for heaven's sake! I'm begging you, please! Do something for him! Can't you hear it? He's desperately heartsick!
"Will it matter, Mr. Weasley?" said the hat. "Why not take this unusual opportunity to tell her what you would like to say to her, while you don't have to be nervous about how she's going to respond? Maybe it will help you, someday, to say the same things under more normal conditions, eh?"
Not bad!
Thank you!
"So you can't tell us any more than that," observed Harry.
"Well," said the hat, "this won't violate the Secrets Act: I sense she loves and appreciates you both as her dearest friends. But you didn't need a sorting hat to know that."
"Thanks for helping us," said Ron, much relieved.
Don't forget my hand!
Oh, I haven't; just distracting them a bit.
"You're welcome, Mr. Weasley. Harry is arranging with Madam Pomfrey to keep me for the duration, and move me from one patient to the next when she does her rounds for drops. Thus, I will look in on each of them for six hours a day as her diagnostic tool."
"Hey, if Hermione likes it, we like it," smiled Ron. He looked at her, and sighed again.
I like it! Wow, do I like it! Company's coming, six hours a day!
"I should visit the others now, if you'll allow me. Perhaps, Mr. Potter, you should shake hands with Miss Granger before we go."
"Shake hands?"
"Yes. It would be a nice gesture."
"Her fingers are all curled up, but... okay." Harry complied. "Wish you were here, Hermione. We need you... now, more than ever."
His fingers stroked along her smooth, cold hand.
That's not exactly how you shake hands, Romeo!
Oh, don't complain, now; I've got him that far. Let's see if he finds anything.
Not reading his mind, are you? It's not very hard to read.
Really, you should leave mind-reading to a professional. Fewer mistakes.
He's fondling my hand.
Chill, as they say.
But... he's goggle-eyed for Cho Chang!
Chill, m'dear, and next time stash the clue in your shoes.
I am sooo going to slap him. Not hard. Just a...
Love-tap?
Oooooh! When I get out of here, Harry Potter, I'm going to give you such an earful!
Odd that you would do that.
Why odd?
Why not equal invective for Mr. Weasley, who has been doing the same thing for twenty minutes?
But he's.... I mean, I'm..... Never mind. It.... it's just not the same thing.
I see.
No. Some things you can't possibly see.
Miss Granger, on First-Nights I handle myself graciously in front of 400 admirers at once. Surely you can deal with two.
Two?? I...
As Hermione pondered the thought, Harry's fingers felt the torn piece of paper clutched in her fist. "What's this?" he asked.
Good! You found it! But you're not out of the doghouse yet, Harry Potter. I have to think about this.
Ron ran to look. "What is it?"
If your clue is clear, they'll figure it out now.
Thank you, sir hat. And good luck, you two. Stay well. Love you... both.
The hat's brim curled in satisfaction. Hermione would have smiled and relaxed, if she could.
But, of course, as Madam Pomfrey would tell you, Hermione couldn't see, hear or speak.
I'm the one to fly to;
If you need to be loved,
Here I am.
Read my mind!