~I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or any resemblence this may have to other stories. The quote at the bottom is property of Toni Morrison. Have fun reading!~
The soft moonlight bathed the richly decorated chamber in its heavenly glow.
Hermione was screaming; agony tore through her with brutal speed. Waves upon waves of pain scorched her skin, ignited her soul with a flame unquenchable with the strongest of charms. She lay face down upon the mattress, her supple form writhing on the soft down blankets. Face contorted in misery, tears flowed from her eyes in currents on the pillows. More painful than Bellatrix, Hermione thought weakly.
She tried to turn upon her back, but the white hot piercing blade of pain stabbed itself into the vulnerable dips of her back. Stifling a scream she shifted back to her stomach. Slowly, painstakingly, a curious albeit terrible sensation pushed itself from her shoulder blades. Hermione's sniffling died down as she pondered the process developing on her back. Always one to be distracted by a phenomenon, her eyes dried and the muscles on her face relaxed. The pain was excruciating, but Hermione felt numb to the pain. Her natural curiosity peaked.
What the hell was happening to me?
It felt like she was being stabbed from the inside out, yet held no urge to cry out. She felt as though something was …growing. She thought oddly back to her fifth year, when Malfoy cursed her teeth to grow abnormally large. The feeling of growth down her face was embarrassing; a memory seared into her senses akin to horrors of her childhood nemesis. Her musings were driven from her mind as the new presence of nerves made themselves known, bone pushing itself through her milky skin. Warm trickles of blood flowed across her back, the pain lasted moments then was replaced by tingling.
Tingling?
She turned her head to catch a glimpse of her back and she froze. Eyes bulged at the appearance of two white hollow bones protruding from her back.
Hollow?
She watched in astounded horror as she witnessed cells growing, dividing, conquering the bone and incasing it with lean muscle. Sinew began crawling up the elongating shafts like creeper, twisting and molding into what Hermione could see as a slightly curved shape. She could not tear her eyes from the sight before her, as the intruding appendages continued to expand in size; up and out with muscle until, approximately a half a meter from her back, began growing additional bone. Thin rows of bone pointed toward her toes reminded her of fingers; fingers of ridiculous proportion. The original column of bone continued to grow, the finger-like becoming branches of a human tree. These bones too were sheathed in muscle; ligaments and sinew to add flexibility and deftness.
Enraptured by the process Hermione could not make heads or tails at what they even were, or for that matter what they were for. Suddenly the feeling of her skin stretching clouded her vision, she turned her head into the pillow. Her mouth clenched open and close as the new skin wrapped around the budding…then it hit her.
These are wings!
Adrenaline jumped through her veins at the realization that she could fly. In theory.
Hermione's mind was on overdrive, nothing in her studies compared to what was transforming her back. She could only think of an animagus, but this wasn't magic morphing her existing body. This is magic in growth, in growing another complete set of limbs to function and hold tremendous weight. For flight. The tingling behind her began to wind down in intensity. Close to completion, the limbs weighed next to nothing.
Hermione lay still, slowing her breath and relaxing her racing mind. Timidly, she moved the new nerves. She imagined the wings as her arms; up and down, side to side. Down down til something brushed the curve of her back. Softness, tender and soft.
Feathers.
Heart flying with joy she crawled into a kneeling position. Arching her back she flexed the strong muscles of the wings spreading them wide; they nearly touched the walls of the room. Looking side to side she noticed the rich brown color of the feathers tinged with flecks of gold and red. Just like my hair.
The new wings begged to be stretched, to feel wind on her face and the sensation of freedom. The power of the wings, the immensity of the joy welling in her heart was freeing. Her mind felt clear, in control. Gone were the insecurities and fear the search for the horcruxes had inflicted on her psyche. It was replaced by the freedom of flight.
The old Hermione was washed away, replaced by the confident being with the silken wings. Hermione slowly got up from the bed and approached the chamber's bay window, opening the room to the dawn air. The fresh spring breeze ruffles her newborn self, sending a shiver down her spin. Hermione stepped onto the ledge. This was it, the wind called to her.
If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it.
~FIN~
