Hello Lovely Readers
Oh my goodness, there must be something wrong with me, I am updating sooo quick!!!! Oh well better for you guys. This chapter is really long so do be warned, and please don't hate me for what I've done to Hermione. *cringes*
Do be aware that Fanfiction is not letting me do any spell checking at the moment, so if there are any errors, I do apologize.
Disclaimer:Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.
Chapter ten: A Gryffindor's Death
The effect was instantaneous for Hermione. At the sound of Severus' words, she bolted from the living room and into her bedroom.
"Wait, what does McGonagall have to do with this?" She heard Draco ask from the other side of her bedroom wall, but she wasn't even listening.
She launched herself immediately inside her drawers, finding the one with all her knickers in it, removing all the complicated wards and curses she had placed on said drawer, and then pulled out a potion that was covered by a particularly lacy pair of undies.
It was a deep red colour, almost like blood except not nearly as thick. Beautiful white spirals of steam protruded through the cork and into her nose, lighting her senses, telling her that this was definitely the right one.
She walked out of her room once more, not even looking at Malfoy who was staring at her, mouth completely a gape in shock.
"Will this one be strong enough?" She asked Severus, walking over to the fruit painting once more.
"Will what be strong enough?" Draco asked, walking over to where she stood and eying the potion wearily.
Once again, she ignored him, finding it easier to answer his questions when everything was said and done.
Severus, being the smartest painting in the room, knew exactly what she was up to.
"If you take it just before they arrive," he told her, "Would you like me to act as a look out?"
"That would be preferable," she told him, walking away from him once more and over to the fire place in the middle of her lounge room.
"What is going on?!" Draco burst out in frustration.
It was then that Hermione finally acknowledged him.
"You and I are going to St Mungos," she told him quickly, "I am going to speak to Minerva McGonagall and you will wait outside. When I come out, you will immediately take me to the front desk, do you understand?"
He just stood there dumbly for a few seconds, mouth a gape in shock.
"Do you understand Malfoy?!" She repeated more forcefully to which he finally nodded.
Before she grabbed the floo powder, she pulled out her wand and casted a single spell around her fire place. Once again, Draco looked at her dumbly.
"It's a delaying spell," she informed him, "Seeing as I can't stop the fire from being monitored completely, I've got to have some form of illusion in place. This should do the trick."
With that, she took his hand in her own without even thinking and dragged him inside the fire place, dropping the floo powder and saying "St Mungos Hospital," all in the same moment.
They stepped out of the fire place, both coughing and spluttering.
"Merlin," Draco spluttered, "Do they ever clean those things?"
Hermione however, did not waste any time. She crept out of the fireplace, unceremoniously dragging Draco with her, trying not to gain any attention. They had come in through the visitor's fire place, so no one really cared what they were doing anyway.
They were so invisible to others that they could even pick up snippets of conversations that were going on around them without being told to bugger off.
The welcome witch at the front desk was trying to direct an erratically dancing man to the fourth floor for spell damage treatment, but he seemed unable to hear her.
"WHAT?" He called loudly, "SORRY I CAN'T HEAR YOU! HE HEXED MY EARS TO. SOMETHING ABOUT HAVING THEM BEING PAINTED ON!"
The witch was so exaspertated and exhausted that she didn't even notice the two of them slipping past, but as they came to the stairs, Hermione had to stop and look at the sign that had been altered since the last time she was here:
ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS................................Ground floor
Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc.
CREATURE INCLUDED INJURIES..................First floor
Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc
MAGICAL BUGS..............................................Second floor
Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox,
vanashing sickness, scrofungulus, etc.
POTION AND PLANT POISONING....................Third floor
Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable
giggling, etc.
SPELL DAMAGE...............................................Fourth floor
Unliftable jinxes, hexes, incorrectly
applied charms, etc...
That was the normal bit, she had seen that all before. It was the additions to the bottom that really made her look...
DEATH EATER WARD.......................................Fifth floor
If you have the dark mark you are
entitled to this ward and first hand
treatment.
PRISONER WARD...............................................Sixth floor
All Mudbloods and Blood-traitors
in need of medical treatment so
that they may be interrogated will
be sent here
"They made those two just after you went into hiding," he told her grimly, "I've only ever had to go into the death eater ward once. It's top of the line and no matter what, we have to come first. We could come in with a stubbed toe and an ordinairy wizard that had been crucioed one too many times would have to wait. I've never seen the prisoner's ward, but from what I hear, it's completely ghastly."
"I can only imagine," she muttered before she finally got her mobility back and moved on,
"It's not listed on there," he continued as they kept walking up the stairs, "But the Dark Lord has a private ward here too."
She stopped dead in her tracks, causing Draco to bump straight into her. She would have fell flat on her bum if he hadn't come back to his senses quickly and snaked a hand around her waist first.
"What the hell would he want a ward for?" She asked him as he set her right and they continued on as though nothing had happened.
"I have no idea," he informed her, "He obviously never uses it, but it's still there."
It was completely odd for Voldemort to have a ward of his own when he was clearly the most powerful wizard in the known world. It had been proved time and time again that no one could beat him...Hermione only hoped that she would be the first.
They finally made it to the second floor, Hermione peering cautiously through her curtain of black hair around the corner. Out of all the wards for death eaters to guard, why in the hell did it have to be the one Minerva McGonagall was residing in?
Because she's a crazy teacher that's dying and has to pass on the role of headmaster before she carks it, she told herself, and they think she knows where the remaining order members are hiding.
"Why do I always have to be right," She muttered to herself angrilly, causing Draco to look amused at her.
"How are we going to get past them?" He asked her, looking as though the task was impossible.
Hermione was at a loss. If they were seen, then it would all be over- She suddenly had an idea.
She reached inside the inside pocket of her robes and pulled out Harry's old Moulskin pouch.
"How in the hell is that going to help us?" Draco asked her, looking slightly disgusted at the filthy contraption.
"This isn't," she told him plainly, reaching inside, "But this is."
When her hand retracted out of the old brown pouch, out with it, came one of the deathly hallows...Harry's invisibility cloak.
"But we can't just slip past them," he told her, "And that thing isn't big enough to cover both of us."
"That's why you are going to drink this," she told him, taking out a small vial from the same pocket that she had dragged out the pouch.
A mud like substance that hissed and bubbled violently within it's glassy prison.
"I snagged a bit of hair from Avery at lunch today when he tried to feel me up," she smirked, "Be the last time he tries that without asking again."
"Where did you pluck it from?" He asked her, looking slightly disgusted and Hermione only smirked.
"I made Polyjuice and other potions constantly while I was on the run," she continued, "There was nothing else to do, so I just made batch after batch after batch, once I had an overflow of ingrediants, courtesy of Kreacher. I now have fiffty two cauldron fulls of mud and other vial tasting substances."
"Where do you keep them all?" He asked her, now looking more astounded than disgusted, and agian she only smirked.
"Do you recognise those two?" She asked him, indicating the death eaters behind the wall.
"The one on the left's a new recruit," Malfoy told her, "Nott's kid, only just turned seventeen. Graduated from Hogwarts last year and walked straight into the outer circle of death eaters. Roumor has it from Rabistan Lestrange that he'll replace his father within the year if he does enough ass kissing."
Hermione couldn't help but snort at that.
"The other one's Zacharius Smith," he continued, much to her surprise, "Thought you would have recognised him, he was in our year. Absolute prat though. I have a feeling that the Dark Lord's going to chuck him after this."
"Why?" She asked.
"Because he's made mistakes before," he sniggared, "And this will be a doozy if he ever finds out."
Hermione rolled her eyes and handed him the polyjuice potion. He looked at her with disgust again.
"Do I have to?" He asked her.
"I don't know Avery as well as you do," she told him, pitifully making up an excuse, "You'd be able to pull it off, I couldn't, and besides, the cloak wouldn't fit over your feet."
"Says the brightest witch of her age who managed to fool the Dark Lord," he argued, but didn't hand the potion back, "You owe me for this. I'll bet you all my galleons at Gringots that he tastes like dragon dung."
"And you would know what dragon dung tastes like...how?" She teased, placing the cloak over herself with a silly smirk on her face.
It was completely odd how they could be comfortable with one another, then raging at one another to flirting shamelessly the next. The little display they had put on in her chambers had been odd, but not as odd as their time together in general.
He quickly swallowed the entire contense of the vial, wincing as he went. Instantly, his blond locks darkened, as did his eyes. He grew an inch or so taller and slight stubble graced a now square jaw.
It was Marcus Avery in the flesh, only this time, she wasn't worried about him putting his hand up her skirt.
Hermione slipped the cloak over herself, disappearing into nothingness, pulling on Draco's cloak slightly to let him know where she was, and together, they stepped out into the empty corridor.
"And then I said," Smith laughed, " 'On party chat you said you were size fourteen,' then she turns around and tells me that she is and I say 'aww your feet maybe.' You should have seen the look on her face!"
"Right," Nott sighed, looking as though he could not have been paired with a more boring person, until his eyes came to rest on the new and improved Avery, "Professor Avery, what are you doing here?"
"I'm here to check on McGonagall," he told them imperiously.
"But we have orders-" Smith began.
"I wasn't talking to you Smith," he spat, "And I have orders of my own."
Nott smirked and allowed him passage inside. Just to make sure that Hermione had adequate time to get inside, he held the door open and spoke to them one last time.
"Make sure no one else comes in," he told them, "I don't want to be disturbed. I don't care if it's Draco fucking Malfoy, no one gets in, is that clear?"
They both nodded and Draco finally closed the door.
"Nice touch with the 'Draco fucking Malfoy'," she smiled as the door shut behind her and she pulled off the cloak.
"He's been saying stuff like that ever since you arrived," he smirked at her, "Probably thinks we're dating or something."
They walked within the unattended ward, moving down the rows and rows of doors. They peered inside the window of each one, finding a witch with spattergroit, several wizards with uncontrolable sneezing ("recent outbreak of losers lurgy," Draco told her, much to her own surprise) and she couldn't count the amount of people that had the snickupps, yet no Minerva McGonagall.
"There's no chance that she's in the prisoner's ward?" Draco asked her, but she shook her head.
"I speciffically asked Severus what ward she was in," she told him as they passed a wizard that was diagnosed with vanishing sickness, "And those idiots at the door would have told us if she wasn't here."
Time was running short. Severus had told her that she only had thirty minutes to live and as far as she could see, they had just spent the last fiffteen to twenty breaking in and trying to find her room.
"Found it!" He told her excitedly, pointing in one of the windows, "Room 665, Minerva McGonagall, Dragon Pox."
Hermione was suddenly apprehensive about going in. She didn't know if she was ready for this. But she had to push forward, it's what McGonagall would have told her to do, and she didn't want her Professor to die alone without any hope for the world.
She took a long and deep, shuddering breath and finally opened the ward door. Minerva was as pale as ever, and she looked some what diminished without her stern look and her extremely tight bun at the top of her head.
"Who is it?" She croaked, "If it's Tom Riddle or Marcus Avery, get the hell out of my ward, I'm not telling you a damn thing!"
Hermione had to smirk. Even when she was dying, the old woman still had the Gryffindor fire burning strong and true within her heart.
"It's not the Dark Lord," Hermione said quietly, approaching the old woman's bed.
Her head suddenly flickered towards Hermione's direction.
"I know that voice," she whispered, "I know that voice."
With a great effort, she sat up straighter in her bed and peered at Hermione through old, wisened, yet still loving eyes.
"I was wondering when you would come," she told her with a loving smile, "I always knew you would, though I'm not surprised by your change of appearance."
"Yes," Hermione sniffed, "The hair and eyes-"
"No, no dear," McGonagall laughed lightly, a slight cough at the end, "It is only natural for you to carry them with you, completely understandable. I only meant, that you have grown. You are no longer the bushy haired first year that used to plague me with questions that not even I knew how to answer. You're the young woman of great talent that I knew you would become."
Hermione could only blush at the praise as she sat by her bedside and held her icy hand.
"But you are not here for the ramblings of an old woman," she continued, "As much as you would like to be, you are not simply here because my time is up."
"No," she whispered, feeling tears prickle her eyes, "I've come because I need your help. I would not ask if it weren't urgent and-"
"Spit it out girl," she told her impatiently, "I haven't got all day."
Hermione would have laughed if the situation weren't so dire.
"I've taken up residence at Hogwarts," she told her, much to the older woman's shock, "Teaching potions. I'm there for a reason, so don't fret as to why I'm risking my neck, I just am. Professor-"
"Minerva," she corrected, "You are no longer my student and you have earned my respect."
She was touched to say the least and had to fight doubly hard to keep her tears at bay.
"Minerva," she corrected herself, "I need you to appoint a new headmaster for Hogwarts..."
***
Draco stood outside the room waiting for Hermione, no longer disguised as Marcus Avery, looking rather worried.
It was not that his locks were slowly fading back to their usual blond that worried him, he could easily just slip inside and ask for another vial if anyone came along, and it wasn't that they were about to fail, surely McGonagall would pass on the role to her, just to keep her safe.
No, it was the fact that twice today he had almost kissed her, and the fact that that was more frightening than impending doom, was a little bit of a worry.
Ever since he first saw her on those steps, he couldn't get her out of his head, running over things that he may have missed, things that he should have picked up when he was younger. He never once thought that she was lodged in his brain because he might have feelings for her, that was completely ludicrous, bordering on insanity.
He was a Malfoy and she was...an attrcative, intellegent, firey young woman. Ok so he was attracted to her. What was there not to like? He had given up on his old ideals the day of the final battle so the fact that she was muggle born wasn't a problem. So why did he hesitate when the opportunity came?
He knew the answer to that as clear as day. She was damaged.
She was broken and damaged no matter how hard she tried to hide it and he didn't want to be responsible for breaking her any further. She needed to stay strong so that she could destroy evil and take over Potter's unfinished task, and he wasn't sure if she was capable of doing so if feelings became involved.
Then again, she may not feel the same way he did. What was he thinking? Of course she didn't! He had tormented her cruely through out their entire time at Hogwarts and hadn't once apologized for it. How could she even remotely think of him that way with such things looming over her head? He was just lucky that she had decided to let him help her, let alone entertain him with her cooking and company.
He would have killed Weasley and Potter if they had still been alive. It was because of their absence that he didn't make a move, because they had broken her heart, each on the same day, beyoned repair. He would be surprised if she could ever love again, especially after today.
He began to pace the hospital halls, waiting for her to finish already. Time was running short...
***
McGonagall simply looked at her as she sat by her bedside.
"I understand the need for a new headmaster," the old professor mused, "However I do not understand your choice. Surely-"
"I have thought about it a lot Minerva," she said with a heavy heart, "And as far as I can see, it is for the best."
Minerva nodded her head.
"I trust your judgement Hermione," she said softly, a slight cough escaping her lips, "Consider it done."
Hermione smiled relieved, but it faultered as Minerva had another coughing fit. Hermione reached over to her bedside table and the old woman a glass of water.
"I've come to my end," she croaked, then laughed bitterly as she drank her water, "I never once thought that it would be like this."
Hermione could no longer contain the tears that threatened her borders. They spilled over her blue irises, coating her pale cheeks in salty stains of grief.
"It will be painful and ugly," McGonagall told her, "The poisons they fed me..."
"You knew?" She asked her and the old woman nodded.
"It was already too late by the time I found out," she told her, "I want you to leave Hermione. I don't want you to see me like this."
"I don't," she struggled to hold herself together, "I-I don't want you to die on your own. There has to be..."
She trailed off and looked at Severus' portrait who was staring at her grimmly. He seemed to know what she was thinking.
"You would be doing her a favour," he told her quietly, "It would not be an evil act."
"I don't know if I can do it..." she trailed off, looking at McGonagall once more who had caught on to what they were thinking.
"He is right," she rasped, "It would be a gift. Give me a clean death...a Gryffindor's death."
The tears flooded stronger from her eyes as she pulled out her wand. Her sobs became uncontrollable as she aimed, but she couldn't mutter those two simple words. Images of herself in that tent after the final battle came flooding into her mind, piercing her vision...
She suddenly dropped the offending piece of wood and hugged her old professor tightly.
"I can't," she sobbed and cried, "I can't do it, I'm sorry I'm so sorry."
"Shhh," Minerva cooed hugging her back as tightly as she could, tears of her own spilling onto her cheeks, "I need you to do this. A final gift to me Hermione, one last gift to an old woman."
"I can't," she sobbed again, "I'm sorry I can't."
"You can," she continued softly, "You asked a favour of me, now I am asking one of you. Return the favour, be brave like the Gryffindor woman I know you are."
Hermione seemed to half compose herself at those last words as she stood back from the dying woman. She looked down at her forgotten wand, tears still staining her eyes.
"A favour," she repeated shakily as she picked it up and aimed once more.
"A favour," Minerva echoed.
At that moment, Draco came into the room. When he saw what was going on, he looked as though he was going to stop her, but a glare from Severus told him that this was planned. Severus then turned to Hermione.
"We haven't got much time," he told her, "They're coming through now."
In that instant, with a few strangled sobs and cries, she made up her mind and forced her crying to cease.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I wish there could have been another way."
"As do we all," the old woman smiled and then turned to Malfoy, "You look after her. If I see her on the otherside anytime soon, I'll come back and haunt you until the day you join us."
Malfoy had to smirk, but found the restraint to say nothing to her at all.
"Be safe Hermione," she turned back to the younger woman, "And kick his lordship into the dirt where he belongs."
Hermione nodded and finally pulled herself together completely.
"Avada Kedavra," she whispered. The green light erupted from her wand and within an instant, McGonagall fell limp to the back of her pillows.
Time seemed to stand still. All Hermione could do was stand there and gaze at her lifeless form. Her pale complexion, her eyes closed, mouth slightly parted as a small smile her lips, just as though she was sleeping and would awake at any moment.
"We need to go," Draco whispered quietly from her left.
She ignored him, not paying attention to what ever they needed anymore. She had just killed her former professor, someone she looked upon as a second mother, and they had to go?! She walked over to her body and placed a small kiss on the old woman's forehead, then she looked back at him.
She saw then that he had tears of his own clinging to his cheeks and that was what stopped her from screaming at him. She knew that he was hurting too.
"I'm ready now," she whispered, taking the bottle out from within her robes.
"They're in your chambers," Severus told her, "Use the fireplace," he pointed to the old fireplace and floo powder in the corner of the room.
Draco nodded and Hermione downed the potion in one. The effect was instantaneous. Her limbs went ridged, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she began to seaze violently.
Draco scooped her up into his arms and ventured over to the fire place, taking a hand full of floo powder and standing inside the grate.
Before he uttered their escape, he turned back to his old professor.
"I promise," he whispered to her before he said, "ST MUNGOS EMERGENCY!"
He came out of a different fireplace than before and this time, he was bombarded by healers all wanting to help.
"What happened?" One demanded of him.
"She was testing a potion and then all of a sudden this," he told them as they took her out of his arms and lead him into the emergency department. However Draco was not going to get in there, as he was spotted by two people he wanted so desperately to avoid.
Just as he was about to walk in the doors, The Dark Lord himself and Avery stepped out of the visitor's fireplace.
"Malfoy!" Avery barked, "What are you doing here?"
"Professor Grant has been hurt," he told them.
Voldemort's eyes flashed. Seeming to have completely forgotten his agenda, he marched straight into the emergency department. Draco distantly heard him barking orders to the healers and each and everyone of them left, one with Hermione levitating behind him.
Draco looked completely shocked until the Dark Lord re-emerged and started talking to them.
"Avery," he ordered, "Go and check on McGonagall. Malfoy, you may follow me to my ward."
"My Lord," Avery interrupted, "Perhaps it would be better if I went-"
"Are you questioning me?" He asked him, his eyes murderous upon the dark haired man.
"No My Lord, no," he recoiled quickly, "I will go to McGonagall."
With that they departed, Avery to the second floor, Draco confusedly with the Dark Lord to the seventh.