A/N: ZOMG, update! Thank you for the Chapter One reviews, Sharin Fereba (apologies, the malicious style probably comes from reading too many horrors as a young teenager :-/) and ring mah b3ll, and for the second chapter reviews from Stalkqueen and Silidons. All comments are greatly appreciated. Apologies for lateness of this chapter, I have been facing some personal problems. :(
As usual, all related names, places, etc. are owned primarily by J.K Rowling, and owned and copyrighted by Warner Bros.
Word Gets Around
"Harry," Ron's voice came as Harry woke from a dreamless doze. "Are you awake?"
"Yeah," Harry croaked from behind the curtain, reluctant to move from where he lay.
"You decent?" Ron asked when Harry did not emerge from his bed.
"Yeah…"
Ron pulled back Harry's curtains, as Harry dutifully sat up. "What's wrong?" he asked, the worry about Hermione flooding back to him.
"It's Hermione," Ron said, sadly. "Madam Pomfrey told Lavender that Hermione was so badly hurt, she had her transferred to St Mungo's straight away."
Harry gasped. All the possible injuries she could have incurred through being viciously raped by three people (Harry was loathe to think of Malfoy and his followers as 'people') flitted through his mind. Had she told Madam Pomfrey exactly what had happened? How long would she be away for? Would she ever come back?
"I know," Ron answered Harry's silence, taking it as shock. "She must have been beat up pretty bad. Whoever did this should be expelled from Hogwarts."
Harry nodded his agreement. "I know," he croaked. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, he thought, they should all be banished from Hogwarts forever. "We should go visit her," he went on, dully.
"Not worth it," Ron answered, a little more cheerfully. "According to Madam Pomfrey, Hermione will be treated today, they'll keep her in for observation tonight, and she should be back tomorrow afternoon. Hey," he glanced at his timetable. "She'll miss double DADA. That'll please her!"
More than you'll ever know, Harry thought wryly. So, if Hermione was planning on coming back after what had happened, pretending nothing was wrong, what in Merlin's name was she going to do about classes they shared with Slytherin? He felt for her so much; the brotherly love that had always been there had grown into a desperate need to protect her.
"Coming for breakfast?" Ron asked.
"I'm not hungry," Harry replied sadly, as his stomach rumbled.
Ron raised his red eyebrows. "Oh, really?" he asked.
Harry sighed. "Oh, all right," he said, jumping out of bed, not bothering to change into a fresh set of clothes.
"Harry!" Ginny Weasley chided him as he sat down between her and Ron. "You look like you slept in those clothes!" She tutted. "Get Hermione to teach you how to do an effective Ironing Charm." She paused, as an uncomfortable silence fell at their section of the table upon the mention of Hermione's name.
"Hermione Granger?" Colin Creevy piped up. "She's been sent to St Mungo's, hasn't she?"
"Erm… yeah," Harry confirmed, not sure if he should say anything.
"So it's true, then?" Colin prodded further.
"What's true?" asked Harry, a little aggravated at Colin's overly inquisitive nature.
"She overdosed on some Muggle drug she's been using… heroin, was it?" Colin asked innocently.
Harry dropped his porridge spoon onto the floor, aghast at what he'd just heard. "I beg your pardon?" he hissed in a low, angry voice.
Colin's eyes grew wide as he noticed Harry's anger. "That's just what I heard," he said.
"Who would say such a thing?" Ginny put in, incredulously.
"Probably a stinking Slytherin," Ron said, narrowing his eyes at the Slytherin table. Harry glanced over as well, and saw that neither Malfoy, nor Crabbe or Goyle, were at the table. At least they have the brains to keep away from me, Harry thought, and the decency to stay out of Hermione's way.
"That's what I heard from Justin Finch-Fletchly," Colin said. "Why, what really happened?"
"That's none of your…" Harry began, but was rudely interrupted by a handsome screech owl that he didn't recognise, which plopped a yellow envelope into his lap. He looked at the envelope and saw his name, printed in red ink, in Hermione's handwriting. Written underneath was, Please don't open this at the breakfast table.
"What's that?" asked Colin, eyeing Harry's envelope. "Who's it from?"
"…Business!" Harry finished, raising his voice a little. "Listen, Creevy, keep your snotty little nose out of matters that don't concern you, and for your information, Hermione was attacked, and that is why she's in hospital. Got it?" He glanced over at the staff table, and noticed McGonagall give him a disapproving look, but he didn't care. "Listen, Ron," he said, slipping Hermione's note into his back pocket. "I've just remembered, I need to do something in the library before class. See you later, okay."
"But you never…" Ron began, but Harry had already made his way down the table. He shook his head and turned to Ginny. "He never does anything at the library."
"So what is wrong with Hermione?" asked Seamus Finnigan. "The whole school knows she's in hospital; what really happened, Ron?"
"I… um, uh…" Ron tried to think of anything to say to avoid the question, but couldn't. "I don't know," he sighed.
"People are saying all sorts of things," Dean Thomas informed Ron. "Saying she overdosed on drugs or booze, got attacked by a Boggart that scared her witless, there are even some people saying that her head exploded when she was in the library." Ginny gave him an extremely vicious look. "If you believe Luna Lovegood, that is."
Ron stood up. "I can't listen to this any more," he snapped, throwing down in his cutlery, which knocked over Neville's pumpkin juice. "Didn't any of you hear what Harry just said? She's been attacked and badly hurt, that's all you need to know!"
"But by what?" piped up Colin, feeling brave. "If it's anything like the Basilisk again, the school must be told."
"I don't know, all right, you nosy little snot!" Ron snarled, quite forgetting that Colin had been petrified by the Basilisk, just as Hermione was. "Now, just stop speculating and leave us alone!" He stalked away, forgetting to apologise to Neville for upsetting his drink. Whatever, he thought, I'll tell him sorry later.
Harry was nowhere near the library; he had gone back to the dormitory to read Hermione's letter in private. He knew everyone was down at breakfast, so he was safe in the knowledge he wouldn't be disturbed, as he split the envelope open. He unfolded the parchment and read:
Dear Harry,
I'm sending this via the St Mungo's mail system, just to let you know how I'm doing. The Healers are about to see to my various injuries, but have already fixed up my arm so I could write to you. They are very kind.
I am going to face things and return to Hogwarts as soon as they discharge me. I should be arriving tomorrow by Knight Bus.
Please let Ron know I'm okay, but please don't tell him, or anyone else all of what happened. I don't want to be treated with kid gloves just because those vile boys raped me. Only three people in the whole world know what has happened, you, me, and a Healer who is treating me. I had no choice to tell her. You know why.
I am strong, Harry. I can get through this. Please don't question my judgement, you know me BETTER than that.
Remember, if anyone asks, I was beaten up, nothing more.
See you tomorrow.
Love, Hermione.
Harry read, and re-read the letter, shaking his head. Sure, Hermione was strong willed, but what would happen when she met Malfoy and his co-idiots again? How would she cope, knowing they weren't being punished for their evil wrongdoings? And, if it came down to her having to tell someone exactly what had happened, would anybody believe her?
"What's up, Harry?" said Ron's voice from behind him. Harry jumped, startled out of his thoughts.
"Don't scare me like that," he gasped, shoving Hermione's letter underneath his pillow.
"Don't blame me," Ron answered incredulously. "I thought you were in the library." He sighed in frustration. "So, who sent you that?"
"Er… just a note from…" Remembering Sirius was dead, Harry realised he could no longer use his godfather as an excuse. "Remus." He chose the closest living person to Sirius he could think of. "He's off on a mission to recruit werewolves to the Order, he just wants to know how we all are."
"Oh right," Ron seemed to believe that. "Can I have a read later?"
Oh, no, thought Harry, thinking he would have to knock up a fake letter before the end of Defence Against the Dark Arts. "Hurry up," Harry said, grabbing his bag, which had been idling at the side of his bed, packed for the next day, a habit Hermione had convinced him to form. "We'll be late for Snape's class. We don't want that to happen!"
"True…" Ron sighed, though Harry could still sense he was distracted, wanting to know what Lupin was up to. He wished he'd thought up something a little less plausible, and a lot more boring.
Waiting outside the classroom, Harry and Ron came across Draco Malfoy, minus Crabbe and Goyle, who had failed their OWLs, and were therefore in a different class. His cruel grey eyes looked straight into Harry's green ones, and he paced over towards Harry and Ron, a wide, nasty smirk on his face.
"Potter," he drawled, "I was so sorry to hear about the hospitalisation of your dear friend Hermione Granger."
Harry stared at him indignantly. How could he, knowing he was partly, if not wholly, the reason why Hermione was in St Mungo's, and then come over with an obviously phoney sympathy speech? Harry's fists tightened, his nails dug into the palms of his hands.
"Of course, a literal neural implosion doesn't take all that long to recover from. I expect she'll be back to tell us all the answers some time in the not-too-distant future."
Shut up, Harry thought. Just shut up, Malfoy! I know exactly what you did! I'm gonna put you and your little friends in Azkaban for this stunt!
"What's the matter, Potter?" Malfoy taunted him. "Are you missing poor, dear little Granger? Afraid you're going to fail this class without her?"
Harry gritted his teeth, whilst Ron defended him. "You know Malfoy," he said with a wry smile "I thought you were better than to listen to some cock-and-bull story invented by Luna Lovegood!" He affected a defiant laugh and folded his arms.
"Yes, Weasley, that will do," came the voice of Severus Snape, from the classroom door. "Enter, class."
"For your information, Malfoy," Ron hissed as they filed into the underground classroom. "She was beaten up. And I wouldn't put it past you if you did it!"
Harry winced, and for a split second, thought he saw a look of unadulterated alarm on Malfoy's face. But he appeared to recover himself quickly, and sneered at Ron. "Well, I've got news for you, Weasel-by," he replied. "I don't know anything about how your precious little Mudblood friend got herself into such a fix. Personally I hope she's in hospital for a long time; the further away she is from me, the better."
Harry was shocked. He had never agreed with Malfoy before. Ron's face though, was turning the same colour as his straggly hair.
"Thank you, Malfoy," Snape sighed, in a bored voice.
"Professor," Ron said as he took a seat, trying with all his might not to shout. "Didn't you hear what he said?"
Snape folded his arms. "Funnily enough, Weasly," he told Ron, "I do have ears. And I believe Mr Malfoy was merely expressing his opinion."
"But… but…" Ron stammered, lost for words at Snape's lenience with students from his house.
"I was going to let it go, Weasly," purred Snape, "given the circumstances. But I'm afraid I shall have to take twenty points from Gryffindor for your cheek."
Ron slumped his shoulders down, and exhaled in defeat. "I give up," he sighed to Harry.
Throughout the lesson, which was all about non-verbal spells and their advantages, Harry kept thinking about Hermione's letter, which had persuaded him not to tell a living soul about what had really happened last night. But how long could he keep it from Ron, who would no doubt tell Dumbledore straight away, and go on a crusade to get Malfoy and his cronies expelled from Hogwarts. Maybe that will be a good thing, he thought. But then, there was Hermione's point of view. Hermione was the victim here, and even though taking decisive action against Malfoy would be the right thing to do, he knew it wasn't what Hermione wanted yet. She didn't want the sympathetic looks, the careful treatment, and, most probably, the derisive calls of 'slut' from Pansy Parkinson and her little Slytherin sorority, who would have, of course, been convinced that she lay herself down willingly for those three...
"Potter." A curt vioce interrupted his thoughts. "As you've been paying so much attention," Snape articulated sarcastically, "maybe you could give the class one of the advantages of non-verbal spells?"
Malfoy's hand shot up. "Sir, sir," he lisped, imitating the absent Hermione. "Pick me, pick me!" Harry noticed Malfoy had The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six open in front of him, when Snape had expressly requested that all textbooks remain firmly shut.
"Very well," Snape sighed in a tired sort of voice. "Since Potter seems to have been rendered incapable of speech, you may answer, Draco."
Malfoy cast his eyes down onto the open book. "Non-verbal spells give the wizard a split-second advantage over his opponent, as there is no way of telling what the spell is until it is hit," he said, continuing his mockery of Hermione, though Snape barely seemed to notice. "Additionally, this makes it difficult for the opponent to perform a counter-curse in good time." He shot a look at Harry and Ron. Fortunately, Harry paid no mind to Malfoy; he was still deep in thought about poor Hermione.
"Excellent, Malfoy," Snape purred. "Twenty points to Slytherin."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a blur of red. "What the..." he heard Ron's voice hiss through his teeth. "Did you see... did you... the book..." Harry nodded surreptitiously.
"Hmm..." Snape came stalking towards Harry and Ron's bench. "Is Mr Weasly suffering from some sort of condition? Would he like to be excused from class to visit Madam Pomfrey?"
"Sir," Ron forced a degree of politeness from beyond his rage. "Malfoy was reading, directly from the book!"
"Was he really?" Snape swooped around to face Malfoy, who had found time to stow his book away, and was sitting up straight, hands nonchalantly folded upon his bare desk. "I don't seem to see a book, Mr Weasly. Perhaps you are suffering from hallucinations on top of your other symptoms?" He paused and fixed his onyx eyes upon the reddening Ron, as if considering whether to send him out of class. "No, I'm sure you can survive another..." He glanced at his left wrist "ninety minutes. However," Snape continued to stare coldly at Ron. "you will not be excused from any homework, even if it does get worse. Books out again, and turn to page forty-two..."
"I can't believe that guy!" Ron said angrily, as he and Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room. "He lets his house students get away with murder!"
Harry was about to tell him how close to the truth Ron could have been, but he managed to stop himself, instead articulating the password to the Fat Lady. "Pygmy puff," he sighed.
"Correct!" the Fat Lady giggled as she moved aside. "And... try to be cheerful for when Hermione gets back. She won't want to see you like this."
"She's right, you know," Ron sighed.
"Huh?" Harry grunted absently, as he drifted back out of those awful thoughts he had been having about Hermione. How she must have felt, with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, doing such vile, inhuman things to her.
"Hermione wouldn't want to see you so worried," Ron said, as he slumped down in the old armchair in front of the Gryffindor fire. "Right... now let's see Remus' letter."
"You what?" Harry asked, confused as to Ron's request.
"The letter you got this morning, from Lupin," Ron reminded him. "Give us a read."
"Oh..." Remembering his lie, Harry fumbled in his robe and trouser pockets looking for the phantom correspondence. When he knew he couldn't find it in his pocket, he knelt down and opened his bag, filing through the parchments, books and quills, but, of course, came up fruitless.
"Oh, God," he sighed, as convincingly as he could. "I must have left it in Snape's classroom..."
Ron looked disappointed. "Oh," he moaned. "I was looking forward to reading about how Moony's doing. Ah, well..."
Harry couldn't bring himself to tell Ron what had really transpired. It was too awful for one thing and for another, he couldn't bring himself to betray Hermione's trust.