III.

She was determined to look away, her fist clenched so tight that her nails were biting into the palm of her hand, but Hermione could feel the pushing of the needle, breaking a tiny hole into her skin and vein, and the indescribable feeling of the blood being sucked up and out of her. The needle came out and Hermione released the breath she had been holding, her arm going slack after the nurse untied the rubber band around it. She couldn't help but peek at the syringe, filled with her thick, tomato-red blood; it made her queasy.

'I haven't had a blood test done in almost two years, I think,' Hermione said weakly. 'What is this for, exactly?'

'Mainly to corroborate that you're not on any medication or substance—' said a new doctor, walking into the room at that moment.

'I already told you that I'm not!' Hermione protested.

'—but we're also going to check for other possible things that could have caused an imbalance in your body and the flashback-like episode you experienced,' the doctor said, talking over Hermione. She was a brown-skinned, squat woman, with a voice that was both kind and authoritarian, the sort that wasn't used to people interrupting her. 'I'm Dr. Dhaliwal, and I know that you have stated you haven't been abusing alcohol, drugs or medication, but we need to run the tests all the same. 'Now kindly go and take a pee into this cup.'

Hermione left the room's tiny loo and handed Dr. Dhaliwal, who was still standing there, the cup filled with yellow liquid.

'Oh, good thing you took your time about it,' she said briskly, although her mouth twitched in the attempt of a smile.

Hermione grunted an apology and sat back on the bed.

'What now?'

'I'm going to do a physical examination,' the woman said, stepping closer.

'Is that really necessary?' Hermione said nervously. 'Dr. Harmon said the paramedics have already checked me, I've only got a bruise.'

'Recent, yes, it's only a bruise, but the paramedics saw more than that. And yes, based on what they witnessed, we are required to examine you, Miss Granger,' she said before Hermione could protest again.

She started by lifting Hermione's chin and using her gloved fingers to gently stretch the skin of her throat.

'Can you tell me how old is this cut?'

'About three months,' Hermione said, bracing herself. She didn't need a medical diagnosis of her many old injuries; she'd already had it. Madam Pomfrey had told her that the injuries caused by certain magical elements, like Bellatrix's knife and the burns she'd got from the enchanted treasure and the Fyendfire would take longer to fade, and as for the rest, Hermione knew she'd always had a sensitive skin, she didn't expect them to vanish overnight. That didn't mean she fancied Muggle doctors seeing any of it and asking questions.

'May I ask how did you get it?'

'Accident.'

'Mhm,' the doctor said, sceptically. 'Remove your gown, please.'

Hermione pulled the thin medical gown over her head, sitting there in her underwear. Dr. Dhaliwal extended her arms, turning them this way and that; then she moved to her back, occasionally using her hands to better examine a scar or bruise. Hermione flinched slightly as she came close to the aching spot on her shoulder.

'Were all these also caused by an accident?' the doctor asked candidly.

'Yes.'

'Must've been a big one, or you are really clumsy,' she muttered under her breath.

'I've already had those checked, and they are old in any case, unrelated to what I reckon I'm here for,' Hermione said shortly.

'You sure?'

Hermione glowered at her.

'Yes, quite.'

'Had you experienced something like what happened earlier before?'

'No, this was the first time. I'd only had bad dreams before, at night.'

'Panic attacks?'

'What would those be, exactly?'

'An abrupt sensation of intense fear, where you might feel like you are having a heart attack or a nervous breakdown; you might have palpitations, feel dizzy, short of breath, start to hyperventilate, experience tunnel vision, start trembling... things like that,' Dr. Dhaliwal explained. 'Have you experienced any of those or similar symptoms? Anything out of the ordinary, that starts all of a sudden?'

'Yes,' Hermione said, her chest tightening. 'I, um... sometimes, when I'm falling asleep, I feel like I've stopped breathing and I wake up very agitated and feel short of breath for a while. But that's about it. I felt really dizzy once, and I started trembling and sweating, but I had just got out of an aeroplane, so reckon that was why.'

She didn't mention that at the time she had also been terrified about both possibilities of finding and not finding her parents in Australia.

'How are your eating habits lately?'

'I usually only have tea for breakfast and a piece of toast because I feel queasy eating anything else, and then lunch and dinner as always.'

'No lack of appetite, any other habits?'

'Well, yes... I suppose I eat less now,' Hermione said, frowning.

'Are you menstruating regularly?'

'Not really.'

'Do you think you could be pregnant?' the doctor asked, making Hermione jump.

'N—no! I'm definitely not pregnant!'

'Okay, we'll find out in your tests' results, anyway. How many full hours of sleep do you think you have per night?'

'Six, sometimes five, on average,' Hermione said, feeling disgruntled at the suggestion of a pregnancy and the fact that the other woman didn't think her word was enough.

'How are you feeling right now? Have you got any of the symptoms you've described? Did you have your pressure taken?'

'Yes, the nurse did it, said it was all right,' Hermione answered. 'I'm feeling fine, really.'

'Good. Well, I'm going to discuss this with Dr. Harmon and I'll get back to you when the results are ready,' Dr. Dhaliwal said at last, making for the door. 'Sit tight and don't worry, all right?'

They kept telling her not to worry, but worry was all Hermione could do. Once the tests were done, they had brought her a light lunch, which she ate alone, sitting on the immaculate hospital bed like a convalescent patient. And to think merely hours earlier she'd been looking forward to a hearty meal out in the open, surrounded by the people she loved!

It gave her time to think, however. It was clear that her word and will didn't count for much at the moment; she would just have to stay calm and be the picture of sanity until the results were back proving that she was indeed not on drugs and therefore reliable. Then they would be able to prescribe her something and she'd be good to go.

It was more challenging than she'd thought. After lunch, Dr. Harmon had come to talk to her again, if she was up for it. Of course she had to be up to it. Good people, sane people, haven't got any reason not to be up to it. He'd asked about the things she had already told Dr. Dhaliwal, so she had to repeat everything for him; then he asked when she'd started experiencing those symptoms, including the lack of appetite and insomnia. Hermione had to think about it for a moment. During their months camping, she'd had to learn how to shut down her stomach and endure the lack of food. She hadn't felt a real lack of appetite until Ron left, though. She'd had trouble sleeping then, too, but it was mainly because she kept waiting to hear him calling for them, looking for the tent, and because she couldn't stop crying. Her period had skipped a couple of times entirely as well, the stress and malnourishment they were under finally taking a toll. But it was only after what happened at Malfoy's that she had started having the worst nightmares, spending half the night awake in fear; she was starving, but sometimes she felt as if she couldn't choke down her food. The other things had started after the battle, and she was ashamed every time. How could she be feeling so jumpy, so frightened, when they were finally safe, when it was over?

She told the doctor it all had started about three months ago, to simplify things.

'Do you know what caused them?' the man asked.

'Yes. But I don't... I really can't talk about it.'

'You know this is confidential, don't you? You don't have to be afraid of anyone coming back to hurt you here, no one's going to find out what you've said to us.'

'It's not that, I just can't talk about it,' Hermione said firmly, again.

'All right. Could you at least tell me the nature of the problem? Stress about school, problems with friends, an argument with your parents, a fight with a boyfriend?'

War, Hermione thought. It was a war, you idiot, and you know nothing about it, you know nothing about what I've been through and I've got no way to tell you.

'It was a... a sort of fight, but not with friends or a boyfriend or even my parents. I really can't explain,' Hermione said, hoping that would settle the matter. Why couldn't they treat her symptoms and leave the story behind them alone?

The doctor took some notes and asked, 'You were in school last year, right?'

'Yes,' Hermione lied automatically.

'Hallford School, is that correct?'

'No,' Hermione said, her heart crushing again inside her chest. So her parents had stuck to that story. 'It's called Hogwarts.'

'Hogwarts? I've never heard of it.'

'You wouldn't. It's a select school for gifted children, and it's in Scotland,' Hermione said quickly. 'My parents always get the name mixed up.'

She smiled indulgently.

'Right,' the doctor said, looking at her straight in the eye. 'Your parents said you went to look for them while they were on a holiday trip in Australia, even though the school term wasn't over. Is that true?'

Hermione hesitated before answering.

'Yes.'

'Why was that?'

'I just missed them,' Hermione lied, although she couldn't keep a hint of bitter sarcasm out of her tone. She tried to fix it. 'I'd already finished taking all my exams, so I was free to go. It doesn't work like most schools. That's why I went to Australia, I thought it'd be a good idea to surprise them.'

'You went with your boyfriend?'

'I did,' Hermione said, feeling a cold sensation swooping over her to settle on her stomach at the thought of Ron. He needed to know where she was. He would know what to do; he could vouch for her story. And if they still didn't believe her and wouldn't let her go, it wouldn't matter: he could bring her wand—her wand, why had she dropped it, why had she lost control?—and together they would Confound the whole hospital if they had to.

'Your parents seem to believe differently, though,' the doctor said, wiping Ron off her thoughts. 'They said you appeared without their knowledge... true, you just said you wanted to surprise them, but they did not remember you being cheerful. They said you looked relieved at seeing them, but also very distressed and you kept talking about a war. Do you remember this?'

'No,' she said emphatically. 'My parents seem to be confused about many things. I do hope you're not taking their word as fact.'

'Indeed?' The doctor peered at her over his glasses. 'You have not been talking about a war?'

Hermione shook her head.

'How about a sword fight?'

Hermione frowned. 'A sword fight? No, why should I?'

'You kept talking about a sword when the paramedics found you,' Dr. Harmon explained. Hermione's stomach sank. 'Do you know who is Gringotts?'

'It's... um, it's a shop. Near my school.'

'And who is Ron? That's your boyfriend's name?' Hermione nodded. 'Where you fighting with him in your flashback? Was he hurting you, at Gringotts?'

'No!' she said, horrified at what they had made out of her screaming. 'He wasn't hurting me. He's not just my boyfriend, he's my best friend. I was calling out for him.'

'You were begging someone to stop hurting you, though.'

'Yes, but it wasn't Ron,' Hermione said firmly.

'Didn't you say you couldn't remember what your flashback was about?'

'I...' Had she? 'I'm only now beginning to remember. Besides, given that you seem to believe what you want, anyway, I was right in being reluctant to talk about it, wasn't I?'

Harmon ignored that last statement, taking more notes on his clipboard. Afterwards, he told her he would have to wait for her results until he could evaluate medication to help with her anxiety, and that those would be ready early the next day, so she'd have to spend the night there. Which Hermione both hated and preferred: at least here she wouldn't have to be alone with her parents. They would see that she wasn't on drugs, that she was reliable; they would prescribe her something, she would go home.

Her parents visited her again, but from the moment they stepped in, Hermione could tell something in their attitude had changed since that morning. They were still solicitous to her, yet she sensed an air of something passing between them. Was it guilt? It definitely felt as if they were not telling her something. She didn't have to think hard to know what it could be: they had been talking to the doctors, they were pretending that she'd been to some school called Hallford, and they had told her they thought she'd made up the whole thing about being a witch. If they had said so much as a word about it to the doctors, it would take a lot of well behaviour and convincing lying to make the doctors think she was sane. How could she convince an entire Muggle medical team that she was really a witch if she didn't have a wand, if she couldn't contact anyone from her world to help her? It was horrifying to think about what could happen if they ended up believing she was mental.

Therefore, Hermione made an effort to be extra nice and compliant to her parents, but she got rid of them as soon as she could on the pretext that she was exhausted and needed to get some sleep. With them finally gone, she lay back against her pillows and covered her face with her hands, pressing fingers against her brow. She had never been good at turning off her brain, but she needed a good night's sleep. Things had gone so wrong... How had it happened? She wouldn't have imagined this situation in a million years: her parents denying seven years of her life, confronting her, making her lose control of her powers and landing her in a Muggle hospital, being checked for drugs... Hermione had understood, had felt outraged and frightened to the core as she witnessed Mary Cattermole trying to prove that she hadn't simply stolen a wand but that she was a witch herself; now, however, she was living it in the flesh. The only people here who knew what she was had turned on her and were suddenly denying her identity. Instead of proving them wrong, she'd just have to go along with it, whatever it took.

Hermione closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she blinked in befuddlement. The ceiling was no longer smooth, white and close, but impenetrable dark stone. Hermione sat up on the bed and stared at the raised platform in front of her, around which a silver shape was prowling. She shielded her eyes from the light, but she couldn't make out what was beyond it.

'Hem, hem,' Hermione heard from behind the Patronus. 'You are Hermione Jean Granger?' asked a high-pitched voice softly.

'Yes,' Hermione said, and she didn't remember why, but she had reason to be very frightened.

'Married to Ronald Weasley of The Burrow?'

'Yes,' Hermione answered again without a second thought, slightly amazed at the sound of the word "married".

'A wand was taken from you upon your arrival at the Hospital today,' that girlish, hated voice said. 'Could you tell us from which witch or wizard you took this wand?'

'I didn't steal it,' Hermione said, leaning forward. 'I bought it in Diagon Alley, when I was eleven.'

'But only wizards and witches have access to Diagon Alley,' the voice simpered. 'You. Are. Not. A. Witch.'

'Yes, I am!' Hermione exploded. 'I am a witch!'

'It says here that your parents are dentists. Are they not?'

'Yes, they are, they were with me when I got my wand!' Hermione looked hopefully to her right, where she found her parents. They were both shaking their heads at her.

'You're not a witch, Hermione,' her mum said.

'You've always thought you were one, but you're not. You've got to give back your wand.'

'What are you talking about, it's my wand!' Hermione shouted, but the woman behind the light was laughing, and her singsong laughter was turning into a cruel cackle.

'Stop!' Hermione yelled. 'Stop it! I am a witch! Give me back my wand, I didn't steal it!'

'You stole it, you took it from me! What else did you take?' said the person behind the light, but it was a different, harsher voice, and it was no longer laughing. 'Tell the truth, Mudblood—Crucio!'

'NOOO!'

With a jolt, Hermione sat upright in the bed, panting. She was drenched in sweat, her chest almost hurting as her heart pumped against it, and there were people around her in the brightly-lit hospital room.