Disclaimer- it is all jo's and i make no money from it. Originally written in 2008 and posted on GE. Taken from my Livejournal (which thankfully still has most of my fics, as I lost some when GE went down) and edited because I posted to LJ before things went to the beta.
Chapter 1 The Safehouse
Hermione screamed until her throat had torn and her voice was gone as Bellatrix Lestrange sent Crucio after Crucio upon her, trying to force information from her. When it became horribly obvious that Hermione was not going to give in to the pain and reveal anything to her, Bellatrix stopped what she was doing and let out a laugh that made the blood run cold in the veins of every person in the room.
She walked around the young woman, her eyes intent as her manic laughter turned into a twisted smile. Standing about three feet in front Hermione, she flourished her wand and pointed it at the teen's face, screaming the words "Adflictatonis Veratis!"
Hermione dropped to the ground, the pain in her throat from her renewed screams causing her to tear and cry just as much as the excruciating pain that was riding her body in waves. She had no idea what the curse used on her was, but it hurt much worse than the Crucio's had. The fact that she didn't know that there such a curse that could cause more pain than Crucio was her last thought before she passed out, falling into Draco, who quickly moved away from her unconscious touch, letting her hit the floor.
The next conscious thought Hermione had was how much her entire body ached. She didn't even know thalf of the places that were causing her pain had even existed. She took in a deep breath of air, the constricting of her throat bringing tears to her eyes. When she opened her eyes, letting the salty tears flow down her cheeks, she saw a ceiling that was painted the spectrum of blues the of the sky at twilight, fading into light blue walls.
She tried to turn her head to the side so she could try to make out anything familiar in the unfamiliar room, but at the slightest movement her muscles froze up, wrenching a painful gasp from her lips. At the muted sound, she heard a rustle of clothing in the room just before Harry's face was above her, searching hers with worried eyes. When she tried to open her mouth to ask him where she was, she found that she could not for the flaming pain that ran down the length of her throat.
"Hermione, don't try and talk," he told her gently, pushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear. "Madame Pomfrey says that you tore your vocal chords. She was able to get some skele-grow and some potions for the internal bleeding down your throat while you were sleeping, but she hasn't found anything that can fix your voice yet. She thinks you may have to wait until it comes back on its own." By the time he had finished his little speech, he was also crying silently, the tears falling from his bent face to land on her shirt. "Actually, I have to go and get her to tell her you woke up. Ron, too." With a slight nod of understanding from her, he was out the door.
Barely a minute later, her room was overcrowded, now holding Bill, Fleur, Harry, Ron, and Madame Pomfrey, who was trying to shoo the others away. The only one she succeeded in getting rid of was Fleur, who went to go check on the others that had escaped from Malfoy Manor.
Bill stood back to watch and be there for the official prognosis, but both Harry and Ron were hovering above her, causing Madame Pomfrey to threaten to kick them out herself if they didn't get enough away for her to do her job. They both moved only enough so they were out of the medi-witch's way, standing at the end of the bed.
The older woman stood above Hermione, running her wand over the bruised and battered girl, tut tutting every now and again, though these scans were far better than those from when she had been first called in. After she had muttered her last incantation, she put her wand back inside her robes. "Well, Miss Granger, all of your vital organs have healed, and your bones are mended, but you still have a good many pulled tendons and a sprained wrist; your whole body will be sore for another week or so. From what I can tell, your vocal chords are not permanently damaged, but I can't give you a timeline for them getting better... it might be next month, but it might be next year or even more. I'm very sorry," she said, her face sincere.
"Oh, Hermione," Ron rushed forward to hug the bed-ridden girl, causing her a gasp of pain and new tears as her entire body tightened. Madame Pomfrey pulled him away by his collar, and if looks could kill, he would have dropped dead.
"Mister Weasley, were you not listening to a word I just said? Miss Granger will be in a fair amount of pain for quite some time. If I give her pain potions for it, the tendons and muscles will not heal properly. Every time you touch her, you will be adding to that pain, so please refrain from touching her in any way unless she needs your help with something."
Ron had the decency to look ashamed, though he looked to Hermione with wet eyes. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I wasn't thinking; I just wanted to comfort you," he said in a raspy whisper, earning him a watery smile.
She looked him in the eye and mouthed the words "Ron, come here," to him as she held her hand a few inches above the bed. He quickly went to her side, Harry close behind him, each pulling up a chair. Seeing that neither boy was going to hurt her, Madame Pomfrey and Bill left the three friends to their own devices.
It was four days before Hermione could get out of bed for anything other than to use the toilet or take a bath, which she positively insisted on, no matter the pain and soreness moving caused. When she arrived at the dinner table that fourth day, Ron and Harry made a fuss over how she should go back to her bed, but Fleur understood that she wasn't going anywhere and quickly helped her to a seat as Bill fixed up her place setting, though she was still only allowed to eat foods that she could easily swallow, as most things hurt her throat on the way down.
Over the coming weeks, she improved little by little, though she was beginning to think that she would never be one hundred percent comfortable in her own skin again. Most of the soreness had gone away, but weird things would set it off and she would have to lie down for a few hours, as she was still under orders to not take any pain potions. Eventually she was able to eat properly without much problem, but she still could not manage even a faint whisper, though there were times she was quite happy about that fact.
She found that every time she was asked a direct question she was compelled to answer it fully and truthfully. Not a good thing with all the sensitive information she held. One time she had almost told Bill about the horcruxes, but had burned the paper she had written her response on before he could see it, as she had taken to carrying parchment and a quill with her at all times to make it easier to communicate. After speaking with a few members of the Order, including Professor McGonagall, they had come to the conclusion that answering questions truthfully was the main intent of the spell that had damaged her so badly, as Bellatrix had been trying to get information out of her at the time.
She sat in on Harry and Ron's conversations with Griphook, giving her input when necessary. Eventually they came to a plan and felt ready to implement it. After talking it through, the three of them came to the decision that Hermione would not be going with them, but rather to a safehouse, knowing that Bill and Fleur would be active in the Order and wanting to be sure that she would not be found. Not only were they afraid for her physical safety, but they were afraid what could happen if she were captured again and forced to give information since they knew that even though she could not talk, she would still be able to give away their secrets and not be able to stop herself.
And so the night before her boys were planning to put their great bank heist plan into motion, it was with a heavy heart that she hugged Ron goodbye. Harry was taking the portkey with her to the safehouse, as the Order had decided that the best place to put her was with the Dursley's. He had been a bit put out at this decision, but the three of them all understood that it probably was the safest of all the safehouses.
They each had a hold of the pencil that would transport them, and with a jerk behind the naval, they were gone. Neither having gotten the hang of portkeys yet, they both fell to the ground at their destination, Harry catching himself with his arms. Hermione tried to do the same, but instead her arms gave way, allowing her to fall against the hardwood floor, her head slamming hard into the hardwood floor with a bounce, blood pooling around her.
"Hermione? Hermione!" Harry called out, quickly crawling over to her. Hearing the disturbance, the Dursley's ran into the entryway, led by Petunia. When they got to the room, it was to see Harry healing the small cut on her forehead with a spell Hermione herself had taught him before he vanished the blood, and even in his panicked state he wondered how so much blood could come from such a small cut.
He knelt there, crouched over her, calling her name over and over again, and when she didn't respond to a persistent light tapping at her cheek, he cast Aguamenti over her face. The flowing water did its job, and she opened her eyes with a silent moan. He spelled her dry and lightly caressed her cheek as he looked down on her. "Hermione, I'm sorry, I should have gotten in the way or something," he told her, and even in her current condition she rolled her eyes at him.
His family silently looked down upon the spectacle in the hallway of the home they had been living in, Harry not even noticing their presence. "Are you hurt anywhere other than your head?" he asked.
She looked thoughtful for a moment through a grimace as she moved her limbs slightly, as though trying out the muscles. "Sore," she mouthed to him. Then she moved the hand that had just finished healing from her sprained wrist. She winced and held the hand in front of her face, the wrist already swelling back up. "I think I sprained it again."
He had gotten used to reading her lips, and so long as she kept her sentences short, he had no problem knowing what she was saying. "Okay, let's get you to a couch or something, then I'll see what we can do, okay?" She nodded her head and tried to sit up, only to lay back down for the dizziness.
"You wouldn't want me to levitate you there would you?" he asked with a promising smile, knowing she would turn him down.
It was when she glared at him and shook her head slightly that the two were alerted to the presence of the three other people. "I can carry her to the couch," Dudley offered.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a surprised glance, and when she gave a small nod of her head, Harry turned to his cousin. "Thank you, Dudley. Just be really careful, I'm sure the hard landing hurt her more than she wants me to know." Hermione gave him a dirty look that clearly said his suspicions were right as Dudley lifted her off of the floor, carrying her bridal style to the couch in the living room.
He set her down gingerly and moved to a large chair that was nearby, giving Harry room to kneel next to her. "Aunt Petunia, would you please be able to find me some ice, an ace bandage, and some aspirin?" She looked at him for a moment, then decided to do as he had asked. "Hermione, how do I tell if you have a concussion?" he asked her, receiving a look that told him he was an idiot.
"I can tell you if she has a concussion," Dudley offered.
"Really? How do you know?"
"Potter, I'm a boxer. We learn these things. I can also wrap up her wrist and ice it properly."
"Thanks," Harry breathed, oblivious to the look in Dudley's eyes that said he was looking at more than just Hermione's wrist. Harry moved out of the way for his cousin to kneel next to his best friend. He brought his hand up to her face, gently covering one eye, then the other, looking intently at the response.
"Her eyes dilate properly, so she doesn't have a concussion," came the diagnosis, causing both Harry and Hermione to sigh in relief. Vernon was sitting in his very large chair, taking up every centimeter of room it offered and watching the goings on with a glare on his face. He had been in a horrible mood for the last week when they had been told that one of his nephew's friends would be taking up residence with them. They had gotten lucky, and the freaks who had brought them to the house only came and checked in with them every few days; now they were going to be saddled with a freak who looked to be hurt. As far as he was concerned, she had better not expect them to wait on her.
Petunia came back into the room then, her eyes widening just the slightest bit when she saw that her Diddydums was kneeling next to her nephew's friend and gave him the items Harry had asked for. As Dudley started to wrap Hermione's wrist, causing a few tears from the pain of binding the already inflamed muscles, Harry decided to make introductions. "Hermione, this is Dudley, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley, this is Hermione Granger."
Hermione gave them all a watery smile. Vernon frowned at her, and Petunia sniffed, but Dudley looked up into her eyes. "It's nice to meet you, Hermione," he told her.
She smiled back down to him, mouthing the words "Nice to meet you, too," before he went back to wrapping the bandage and showing her how to hold the ice on it properly and explaining how often and for how long she would have to ice it.
"Doesn't your friend talk?" asked Vernon condescendingly.
Harry looked down to Hermione, who smiled at him and nodded her head, giving him permission to tell what had happened to her. Meeting Vernon's eyes he responded. "Not right now she doesn't. A few weeks ago one of the Death Eaters tortured her for information and she wouldn't give it up. Madame Pomfrey says there's nothing wrong with her, but we think she may have suffered some nerve damage, and whether it be from the spell or just how much she was screaming, her vocal chords have ruptured. If she tries to talk using her voice, it causes her a lot of pain. She should be able to talk again someday, but we have no idea how long it will be."
"Tell me something, boy. What makes you think they won't track her here if they want to try and get other information from her?"
"She didn't give them anything before," Harry said coldly. "Of course they are looking for her. She didn't show up at the Ministry to be questioned about her parentage, she has now escaped from the clutches of the Death Eaters, and her last known whereabouts were consorting with 'Undesirable Number One'. But that, Uncle Vernon, is the point of a safehouse. They can't find her here."
As Harry spoke, he had stood up and walked over to his uncle, towering above the sitting man, twirling Draco Malfoy's wand between his fingers. "If you do anything to hurt my friend, or make her feel uncomfortable in the slightest, you will regret it. That goes for all of you. Am I clear?" he asked, using the hardest voice Hermione had ever heard come out of him.
"Y... yes," Vernon stuttered, his wide eyes never leaving Harry's wand. Petunia had turned a ghostly white and sat down on the couch, her hand fluttering over her heart. Dudley, though, just continued helping Hermione.
"Good. Also, Hermione will be using magic. She is of legal age to do so, and as we're not in school anymore, she has no fear of being kicked out, so don't think of trying to threaten her about it. Besides, she wouldn't do anything to hurt you with it, anyway. She's a good person like that."
Harry then turned, walking back to his cousin and his friend. "Dudley, would you be able to show us to Hermione's room? I have things to do, but I'm not leaving until I know she's settled in."
Dudley nodded his agreement. When they made it back into the hall, Harry knelt down to pick up Hermione's purse that now contained all of her things, having placed the same charms onto Harry's rucksack so he and Ron would be sure to have everything they needed. Hermione and Harry followed him up a flight of stairs, listening as he pointed out the loo, his room, and his parents room before coming to the last room on the floor, directly next to his own.
"This will be your room," he said, looking at Hermione as he opened the door and held it open like a gentleman. It was the smallest room in the house, but it was still a decent size. Everything in the room was pure bright white, from the walls and the bedding to the furniture and the flowers.
She turned to Dudley and gave him a small hug, mouthing the words 'thank you,' motioning to the room and to her wrist.
"You're welcome, Hermione," he replied with a small smile before leaving the other two alone.
They stood there, just looking at each other for a long moment, before she pulled out a piece of parchment from her bag and handed it over to him. There was only one sentence on it, but he read it and looked up at her, smiling through the tears in his that were threatening to spill over. If you die, I'll find the stone and bring you back so I can kill you myself.
He pulled her into a hug, kissing her softly on the temple. "I love you, Hermione. You are a wonderful friend," he whispered to her before pulling away to see that her tears were spilling freely down her cheeks. Not giving her a chance to do or say anything back, he turned and quickly left the room so she could settle in and possibly take a nap. He planned on having one more talk with his relatives without Hermione there, and then he would be off.
Chapter End Notes:
**** using the the english to latin dictionary, adflictatio - onis means pain as in torture and veritas - atis means truthful, to speak the truth. and the information on how to tell a concussion and how to take care of a sprain comes from mistress malfoy.