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There it was again. So she had heard right the first time. Hermione Granger stacked the books into one pile for Madam Pince to return to the relevant shelves, grabbed her bag and left the library. It's the unicorn again... I wonder what's wrong with her this time. She sounds urgent, she thought while she made her way from the library down to the front doors of the castle. It was nearly dinner time, but she knew nobody would miss her. Once she was outside, she started to sprint to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the call of the unicorn leading her way.
Long gone were the days when Harry and Ron played a significant part in her life, when referring to them as 'friends' was justified. They still sat together in classes and at mealtimes, but other than that Hermione went her own way. Most of her sixth year had been spent studying, either school subjects or areas she was interested in, such as the ancient ways of healing or general esoteric subjects. And then there was her music. It became important again for the first time since she came to Hogwarts. Since she found herself alone more and more often, after she refused to give in to Ron's demands to become his girlfriend, a task she simply was not ready for, let alone with Ron. Since more and more of the Muggle-borns disappeared from Hogwarts, either because they were too scared to remain in the wizarding world because Voldemort was becoming stronger by the day, or because they were victims of Death Eater activities. And when she heard Fawkes sing his soothing, healing, euphoric tones to Harry after he had another run-in with Death Eaters, she knew she had to find a way to capture the feel of the phoenix song with worldly instruments. It was a quest that was never far from her mind. She sighed inwardly with relief. Only another week and she would go home for the Summer Holidays where she could spend most of her time indulging in music.
Hermione had just reached the first blooming shrubs that formed the boundary of the Forbidden Forest when she saw the unicorn. She quickly but carefully walked over and slowly put her hand out to the unicorn. "Greetings, Lady, how may I be of service to your kind?" Hermione asked.
"She-Human with coloured hands, a centaur needs your help. She's given birth and both she and the babe are very weak," the unicorn greeted her.
"'Tis late in the season for a centaur birth," Hermione agreed. "Lead the way, please. I don't know if I can help, but I will try my best."
The unicorn gestured for her to climb on her back to reach the centaur mother and baby as quickly as possible. They met a few centaurs on the way, but were left alone by them. The community of dwellers of the Forbidden Forest never bothered Hermione since she had healed one of their kind earlier in the year. She never questioned the fact that she was able to walk through the forest and take from it what she needed, just like she never questioned the gift of healing when the Sylphs bestowed it on her. As practically, logically minded and inquisitive as she was generally, she had learned early on in life that sometimes there are occasions that did not warrant questioning. Her gift of healing was one such occasion, long after the first, the discovery of her magic.
The unlikely pair reached the centaur mother and baby, and Hermione took one look at the mother to know she was in dire need of replacing the energy it had cost her to birth the child. She carefully knelt down next to the mother and let her hands hover barely above the mother's body. The unicorn sighed with relief when she saw bright turquoise streaming from Hermione's hands into the entire body of the centaur. When the new mother's energy was restored, Hermione shifted her concentration to the newborn. Again, she held her hands just above the baby's body, and vibrant turquoise emanated from her hands until sometime later the colour turned paler and paler until it was a barely visible white. The little one stood up on shaky feet and stumbled over to her mother to have a first go at suckling the milk of life while the centaur mother deeply breathed in her baby's scent. Messenger and healer took in the scene contentedly, human carefully leaning against creature, knowing that possibly two lives had been saved tonight. The other centaurs would take over from here, bringing dark green sorrel leaves to the mother to ensure strength and a ready supply of good milk for the newborn.
The unicorn eventually reminded her it was time to return to the castle. "She-Human, 'tis time to get back. Your work for tonight is not over yet. I will carry you to the edge and see that you return safely."
"I guess you're right, it's nearly dark." Hermione sighed. "What do you mean, my work is not over yet for tonight?"
"Another is in need," the unicorn replied and took off with speed the moment Hermione settled on her back. She did not speak again until they reached the clearing where Hermione climbed down to walk the short way to the castle. "Be well, my friend. And thank you." The unicorn nuzzled her gently. Hermione hugged her briefly and left hurriedly to make it inside before curfew.
She stayed in her dormitory only long enough to pick up pyjamas and a book, and left to enjoy a relaxing bath. The book, 'Vibrational Medicine for the Gifted Healer', let Hermione forget about her surroundings, delving into the fascinating world of healing, and she did not notice how much the water had cooled down until she heard the call again. Only it was not the unicorn this time. She could not make out what or who it was that called her, but she recognized the cry for help and quickly got out of the bath and into her night clothes. On her way out, she threw the book on her bed and grabbed her cloak to throw over her pyjamas and exited the common room shortly after. Suddenly, a feeling of foreboding overcame her, but she shrugged it off impatiently.
The moment she approached the first set of stairs to climb down she knew with complete certainty that the call would lead her to the Dungeons. Please let the stairs not move now. The stairs obliged and she reached her destination quickly. Just in front of the classroom door, in a heap on the floor, lay Draco Malfoy. She bent down carefully and turned his face, ignoring the possibility that it might be a trap for her. Seeing his face made her shudder in horror. "Oh Goddess. What have they done?" she whispered. The bloody pulp that gaped out from underneath blond, blood-streaked hair showed absolutely no trace of the once cold, arrogant, but beautiful, perfect face.
She slowly let her hands glide above the entire length of his body to scan for other injuries and applied a few healing spells to mend broken ribs and a broken jaw. Then she decided that his face needed the most urgent attention. One Mobilicorpus and one spell transfiguring a school desk into a bed later, she entered the Potions laboratory and mixed some calendula tincture with cool water to start cleaning his face. Hermione could not tell whether or not he was conscious as his eyes were swollen shut, and the healing spell on his jaw was still doing its work. She figured getting him into a more stable condition before taking him to the hospital wing was the easier solution.
Hermione was on her third bowl of calendula solution, still carefully cleaning masses of crusted blood off his face when Malfoy stirred. She saw his efforts to open his eyes and told him gently, "You're safe, Draco. You'll be okay. I'm just cleaning you up a bit, and then I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey. She'll heal you in no time."
His immediate, almost violent reaction to her words suggested she had said something wrong. He swung his arms about blindly, until his hands found hers to grab. He spoke with great effort. "Not Hospital... Get Snape."
Hermione sighed inwardly. Great. Why couldn't it have been another unicorn calling me... Here I am, in the middle of the night, and now I'm supposed to get Professor Snape. He'll skin me alive... She pulled herself together to calm Draco. "It's okay, Draco. I won't take you there if you don't want to. But I don't know how to get to Professor Snape's quarters."
It took Malfoy almost ten minutes to convey the simple instructions how to reach the quarters of his Head of House. He gulped for air after every word uttered, and the pain of his barely healed jaw was troubling him to the point that Hermione considered giving him one of the pain relieving potions. She did not know what kind of curses or hexes he had been subjected to that might interfere with or negate any pain relieving potions, so instead, she gently held her hands above his jaw, as close as possible without actually touching his battered face, and let the energy flow freely. Soon his breathing eased and his eyelids fluttered lightly.
She had no trouble finding the entrance to Professor Snape's quarters and asked the wizard in the portrait to call him. He opened the door quickly, scowling at her but not speaking. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Professor. Draco Malfoy asked me to get you, he's injured," Hermione told him. Without comment, he gestured for her to lead the way and followed her to the Potions classroom. If he was shocked to see Draco's state, he did not show it. He sat down on the edge of the makeshift bed and spoke softly. "Draco, can you hear me? What happened?" Draco did not even stir. After his exhausting attempt to tell Hermione directions to Snape's quarters and her healing session on his jaw, he succumbed again to blackness, this time less laboured, the pain having subsided somewhat thanks to her ministrations.
Snape turned to Hermione. "What have you done so far?" he asked, his voice holding not even a trace of maliciousness. She told him about mending Malfoy's ribs and jaws and cleaning his face with calendula solution, but did not mention the healing she had done with her hands. "And what would be your next step?" he asked, almost casually, while checking Malfoy's body with the help of his wand. From the way he conducted the body scan, it was obvious to Hermione that he was no newcomer to the field of Healing or mediwizardry. The man's confident movements went far beyond those of a mere Potions master.
"Ideally, I would like to make a Haldi paste with some ewe's milk add some neem leaves and lavender, then leave them to dry on his face to aid the regrowth of the tissue," Hermione answered thoughtfully, and then added, "And I think he should take sodium ascorbate internally, to help his body fight off any infection that might occur."
"Go ahead, Miss Granger. You know where the ingredients are," Snape ordered her.
She went back to the lab to mix the paste. When she returned to Draco's side, he was stirring again and his distress was almost palpable to Hermione. Oblivious to the presence of her stern Potions professor, she let her hands do the healing again to ease Draco's pain. She did not notice Snape getting up and moving away from the makeshift bed, never taking his eyes off her, nor did she notice the array of all colours of the rainbow spectrum emanating from her entire body. She was concentrating entirely on the healing energy that streamed into Draco Malfoy's battered body, banishing the distress and pain the young man was in. When the colour coming from her hands finally faded, she turned to the supplies she had placed next to him and started to carefully cover his face with the healing potion.
Her work completed for now, she looked up, directly at Professor Snape who was still gazing at her intently. She stood up slowly. "Umh. I can't do anything more for him now. I really think he should see Madam Pomfrey, she'll be able to heal him completely," Hermione said, still looking at him, mesmerized by his gaze.
He suddenly came out of his reverie, and started to speak in a low voice. "Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy was left for dead tonight, presumably after he refused to take the Dark Mark. If we take him to the Hospital Wing, Lucius, or anyone else for that matter, will find him. I will find a place to hide him, and he will have no choice but to remain hidden until this war is over."
Hermione nodded dumbly. Her mind was whirling. Draco refused the Dark Mark. Snape was being civil to her. The world as she knew it was rapidly spinning out of control. Before she could get her senses together to say something, Snape continued. "Your knowledge of healing is not inadequate. You will succeed in healing Draco. I will contact you when I have found a safe place for him within the castle... And I don't have to tell you that if word gets out that he is alive it will likely be the end of his life." It was obvious that Draco's condition, and probably more so what lead to it, was weighing heavily on him.
"The secret is safe with me." With one last glance at Draco, she exited the Potions classroom and walked back to Gryffindor Tower.
Hermione was grateful that Snape ignored her entirely throughout the Advanced Double Potions class. She was feeling very tired and was not paying the usual attention in class, but rather concentrating on making it to the end of the school day so she could indulge in some well deserved rest. When the bell finally rang at the end of the class, she slowly put together her potions supplies and packed her bag.
"Miss Granger, a word please." She had not noticed Professor Snape coming silently up to her desk. The classroom emptied quickly as usual, and as soon as the last student had left, the Head of Slytherin started to speak. "Go to the portrait of Zadok the Priest near my quarters. The password is libertas reverto. Let me know if you need anything." She took in the information rapidly and nodded. "And do use a Disillusionment Charm," he added dryly.
Hermione was not sure what kind of room she had expected, but certainly not the light airy space that was before her as she stepped through Zadok's portrait. Soft, linden green walls complemented the apricot coloured, velvety soft cushions and matching curtains in perfect harmony, both colours in stark contrast with the deep, dark brown, wooden, gracefully aged furniture. A violin hung on one wall near the entrance and opposite, above the single bed in which Draco Malfoy was peacefully resting, was a mural showing a scene of pure serenity. An elderly man with dark, untidy hair, wearing a Charlie Chaplin style suit was playing a grand-piano in the midst of a forest clearing surrounded by oak trees heavy with leaves that were the typical full, almost dark green of late summer, underneath a sunny, deep blue sky.
Draco's somewhat croaky voice interrupted her intensive admiration of the interior. "Granger."
She turned to face him and walked towards the bed, noticing that the swelling of his eyes had receded sufficiently for his sight to return. The rest of his face also resembled more the Malfoy she knew rather than the bloody pulp she was met with the previous night, she observed with relief. "Draco. You sure look better than last night. How are you feeling?"
"Hurting," he croaked, which came as no surprise to Hermione after the battering he received less than 24 hours ago. She concentrated for a moment, rubbed her hands gently together and then held them slightly above his head. As the colour started to flow from her hands - this time it was a vibrant green - her hands started to move almost imperceptibly along his body.
"How'd you do that, Granger?" Draco asked in awe when she had completed the healing session. He looked as if he could easily get up and go about and managed to lift himself into a sitting position without flinching. He gazed at her with what might have been considered an expectant expression, had his face been fully restored to its former perfection.
Hermione looked away and shrugged her shoulders. She was uncomfortable with his obvious admiration and not sure exactly how to answer his question. The healing she had done before had always been on animals or magical creatures who were much more in tune with the less visible offerings of the universe and never saw the need to ask her the most mundane questions. "I was gifted with the ability to heal," she said, hoping that her answer would be sufficient for him. Her eyes fell on the violin on the wall opposite and she looked at it longingly.
"You play the violin? Feel free to use it. It gets kind of lonely and quiet in here." Draco had noticed the way she looked at the instrument. His words encouraging her, she stood up and walked over to give it a closer inspection.
"I'm a piano person, but I guess a violin will do..." Unable to hide her delight at the prospect of playing, she took the violin off the wall. Her absolute pitch enabled her to tune the instrument without the aid of a tuning fork and she was soon lost in the land of music, where different sounds, created by the hairs of a horse's tail strung over a bow stroking over strings clamped between small parts of metal over a wooden polished body, combined with each other to create emotions and feelings of content, happiness, sadness, longing, all rolled into one.
When Severus Snape entered through Zadok's portrait, the primal magic, created by the sounds Hermione tempted out of the violin, the reverence Draco was listening with, and the complete peace that was the by-product of creating harmony in sound, stopped him in his tracks. He stood there, taking in the scene, drinking in the music with every pore, like a ship wrecked man would gulp down fresh water after being rescued. Neither musician nor patient noticed his presence, one too intent on creating the music that would soothe and eventually heal his whole being, the other too busy with absorbing what was offered to his soul.
This first afternoon in the secret room set the stage for the remaining week of the term. Hermione came after the day's classes were over, gave Draco some healing, then took the violin and played. Soon, Draco was well enough to spend an hour talking with her before she joined the rest of the school for dinner. His decision to refuse the Dark Mark, more due to the spur of the moment than thoroughly thought out, had crashed the fundament of his beliefs, and he often found Granger's typical Gryffindor bluntness, saying things as she saw them, more useful than Snape's subtle insinuations for regaining some sense of meaning to his life.
Hermione finished her packing quickly and hurried to the dungeons to say good-bye to Draco for the summer before boarding the Hogwarts Express that would take her to London's Kings Cross Station. As much as she was looking forward to seeing her parents again, to spending entire days playing the piano and other instruments with the aim to recreate the song of the phoenix, she knew she was going to miss her daily encounters with Draco. Their parting was bittersweet. An awkward hug, a rough pat on the shoulder with the words, "Just think of it, while you'll be having a great time doing whatever you want I'll be stuck here, and the only person to talk to will be Snape," that teased chuckles out of both, and she left to catch the train.
The ambulance with flashing blue lights arrived at the same time as the police at the Victorian house in the outer suburb of London, characterized by its professional, well-to-do inhabitants who spent their weekends manicuring their front lawns and growing hybrid roses. An elderly lady approached the emergency team as they hurried out of their car.
"I'm the neighbour who called you. I heard some god-awful screams and went to check where it came from. Then I saw this tall blond guy running out their front door, never seen him before, and he seemed to disappear into nowhere. And then another two ran out, too. It's horrible in there." She shuddered in horror at her most recent memory. "I can't imagine how anyone would be so evil... They were such nice people... So excited about their daughter's return from boarding school for the summer holidays..." Her babbling became less and less coherent as the shock set in, and she was led to the police car to calm down so she could sign her statement as a witness while the ambulance crew rushed inside the house to see if anyone could be rescued.
"Oy, this one is still breathing. Barely, but she's alive. Dunno what they done to her," one of the crew called to his colleagues. "This job is getting too depressing, I need to find a new career... What's she done wrong to be in a state like this... What'd her parents do to die in such a horrible way..." he muttered to himself.
Unsolved Murder in London Suburb
From the Case Files of Uxbridge Police Station, Crime Unit: An entire family, resident at Melbourne Avenue, was subject to a brutal assault yesterday evening which left two dead and one in critical condition at Uxbridge Hospital's Intensive Care Unit. One witness saw three men, one of them tall with long blond hair, the other two non-descriptive, exiting the resident's home and disappearing shortly after hearing what she described as "blood-curdling screams." If you were in the area and saw anyone or anything unusual, please contact Uxbridge Police at 0208-479 4673. The motives of the murders and assaults are not known. Burglary was ruled out as several hundred Pounds were left untouched on the living room fireplace mantle and nothing appeared missing from the home.
The old lady sobbed as she was reading the short article in the evening edition of the local newspaper. Then she pulled herself together and got ready to see if she could do something for the girl from next door who was lying unresponsive in her hospital bed.
Four weeks later
Fragments of memory were hovering along the edge of Hermione's consciousness. Screams... Shouts of obscenities... 'Fucking Mudblood'... Pain... Then a gentle voice, pushing her towards awareness of the physical, never relenting, not accepting any of the excuses she had ready for not waking up, became too insistent to fight anymore. She opened her eyes to an environment of white, sterile sadness that was typical of Muggle hospitals.
How she had managed to hold on to her life that was hanging from a frail silken thread for weeks was anybody's guess. The highly qualified hospital staff had given up on finding a scientifically valid explanation and jokingly insisted it was divine interference. It came as no surprise to any of them that a week later, she insisted she was well enough to leave. They tried forcing her to stay, but for once Muggle laws came to her rescue. She was orphaned, yes, but her parents had died mere weeks before she turned eighteen, and rather than going through the red tape that was involved in finding a temporary guardian, the relevant government department simply declared her adult 'due to exceptional circumstances.'
She entered her home, suddenly remembering her train journey to Kings Cross, the short walk to the underground station, the uneventful tube ride, then the short walk home from the local station. There, the memory stopped. She heard faint screams of panic somewhere and shuddered. The police had told her all they knew and had shown her the newspaper article that had appeared the next day, but those actions did nothing to trigger her memory. Deciding that now was not a good time to deal with the recent events, and desperate to leave the traces of horror, panic and death that were lingering in the house like the stale air of a pub, she packed her belongings, shrunk her harpsichord, pocketed it and called a cab to take her to the train station, where she took the first train out. She spent the last few days of the summer holiday she had so been looking forward to in the quaint seaside village of St Ives in Cornwall in solitude.
By the time Hermione returned to London, ready to board the train back to Hogwarts, all her physical wounds from the assault had healed almost completely. The mental healing she knew would not happen until she remembered what exactly had happened to her, but there was no point trying to force the memory. It would return in its own time. As the train moved ever closer to the castle that had been more of a home than her parents' home for the past six years, her thoughts turned to Draco, wondering how he was faring, being locked up in the beautiful room behind Zadok the Priest's portrait.
Hermione finally managed to sneak to the dungeons after the Welcoming Feast, much more subdued due to Voldemort wreaking havoc throughout the entire wizarding world. She felt the urge to check that he was still there, that his health had been restored, that he was alive and well. They had only been spending a few hours together during the last week of term, but he saw her as the one who saved his life, and his demeanour towards her had changed drastically.
Relief flooded through her when Zadok opened the entrance as soon as she uttered the password, "Libertas reverto". She grinned when she saw Draco smirk at her.
"Granger! Finally! I never thought I'd be so happy to see you of all people," he drawled, in typical Draco manner.
"Nice to see you too," she replied, still grinning, and took a step closer to check his face. Not a single scar was showing, and she was happy to see his face restored to its full former beauty, less the coldness he used to display so evidently.
"So, do tell, how was your summer?" he enquired, starved for company other than his Head of House or the books he was given by the same, chosen to help widen his horizons. Hermione could not help noticing the Muggle literature littering the small table between the bed and the opposite wall.
She shrugged. "Was okay... Spent a few days in Cornwall by the seaside..." she replied evasively and picked up the copy of Victor Hugo's Les Misérables he appeared to be in the middle of reading. "Learning about the French Revolution? A Muggle book? That is so not you, Draco!" she said teasingly.
"Knowledge, Miss Granger, is power. Any kind of knowledge might come in useful one day," he lectured her in a voice resembling that of their Potions professor, although Draco's young voice lacked the smooth silkiness that Snape utilized to mesmerize every student. "So did you play lots of music? Read lots of books?" he asked.
"No." She did not want to talk about the summer holiday, did not want the death of her parents enter this sanctuary.
"Come on, Granger. Your holidays can't have been that bad!" He looked at her questioningly, wondering what she was trying to hide.
She looked at him briefly, lost now how she could divert his attention from the holidays and saw, in front of her mind's eye, a bigger, taller, older version of Draco, face arrogant, a calculating look, ripping her jeans down with one hand while the other held her hands above her head. She started shivering. "Oh Goddess. No... No..."
"What on earth?" Draco did not know what to say or do.
"I'm sorry, Draco... I... I better go." With that, she turned around and fled through the portrait.