Disclaimer: I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

Warnings: Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

A/N: Hello my wonderful loveys! In light of how utterly delayed I was in giving you Chapter 20 I felt it only fair to pump this chapter out immediately. So, without further ado...here's Chapter 21! Enjoy! xo

Part Two

"It's a bloody miracle she's survived this long. It's a good job the boy found her when he did, otherwise…"

"Hmm, yes...but who is she? Any progress on that front?"

"No and, unfortunately, we probably won't know anything until the lass wakes up. We've begun lessening her potion intake, so hopefully she'll begin stirring soon."

The hushed voices filtered into the darkness that had consumed Hermione's mind, but they were dull to her senses as if her head had been submerged under water. Subconsciously, she knew something was very wrong and as she tried to move her body, memories raced before her mind's eye in a blur. She felt an anguished sob building in her chest as she remembered dying - dying - in that clearing and that boy. That boy with the all too familiar eyes. She internally shuddered and slipped further within the darkness. Anything to relieve the pain.

Hours, possibly days, later she felt something stir her interest. There were voices again, their words somehow sharper than before. She allowed her mental blocks to lose a bit of strength and focused as the new visitor's voice caused something to itch in the back of her brain - like she knew this voice, but her mind wasn't ready to accept it.

"How is she today, Dr. McGuire?"

"She's stable, but I'm worried that if she doesn't wake up soon there may be irreparable damage both physically and mentally. With the severity of her injuries, she's already looking at two months of strenuous physical therapy, let alone whatever counseling she's going to need after surviving whatever the bloody hell happened to her."

The other man made a thoughtful noise, his robes swishing against the floor softly as he moved closer. "How long has she been like this?"

"A month, tomorrow. We've tried everything we know to do, but something inside her is keeping us out."

"You've tried legilimency?"

"Of course, but as I said she's blocking us somehow. My best assumption is that whatever trauma she's suffered, it was bad enough for her to mentally shut herself off. I've had my best people working on her, but we try not to completely force our way in."

Hermione's brain stuttered. I've been here a month? She tried to collect her thoughts on the matter, but they slipped through her fingers like water. All she could remember was the oppressive darkness. She felt herself beginning to retreat once more, but something about this new man made her want to stay. She needed to know who it was; however, her will wasn't strong enough quite yet, so she internally sighed and let the darkness take her.

When she awoke again, it didn't feel like so much time had passed - maybe a day, or three. She mentally looked out to see what had caught her interest when she heard the familiar voice speak again.

"Ah, Nurse Young, pleasure as always."

A feminine voice spoke up in obvious delight. "What a lovely surprise! What can I do for you today? I'm afraid Doctor McGuire is working with another patient at the moment."

The man chuckled. "That's quite alright, dear. Have there been any changes?"

The Nurse sighed. "No and, unfortunately, there've been talks about pulling her off the life support. Her body has healed at a spectacular rate, but if she doesn't wake in the next couple of days Dr. McGuire says he'll have no choice but to announce her brain dead."

"Unfortunate, indeed. I may have an idea of how to bring her back, if you'd allow a foolish old man his eccentricities."

"I don't see how it could make anything worse. What do you plan on doing? If you don't mind my asking."

"One moment," the Headmaster muttered as Hermione listened to him walk further away before quickly walking back with two sets of footsteps following him. Silence blanketed the room, the overly loud beeping of the machine next to her ringing in her ears. Hermione could feel her anxieties getting the best of her as she waited for whatever was supposed to happen to happen.

She heard hushed, angry muttering and a possible Why me? off to her right and then a set of startled footsteps as if whoever was approaching her had been pushed. That surprised her, but then again she wouldn't want to get close to an unknown, nearly dead woman either. She internally chuckled as she sat and waited for whoever was pushed to speak. She wasn't prepared.

"Um...hullo."

Little Hermione, as her mind had come to associate with the little person that had projected itself in her head, jumped to her feet wide-eyed. She bounced on the balls of her feet before pushing off and running, struggling through the thickening darkness in an attempt to get closer. To get closer to him.

"Keep talking, it's alright." the nurse urged in a soothing tone that nearly made Hermione want to rip the unknown woman's face off.

He cleared his throat. "So. You're not dead. That's good...I guess. The Doctor said you need to wake up soon. So. You should probably wake up."

Little Hermione threw her body at the mental shield that was already beginning to show strain along the edges. She nearly laughed in triumph as she heard the ominous cracking and grinned in delight as she punched her fist through a thin layer and reached for the softly glowing light - her hand gently coming to rest atop it. She felt her body come back online in a surge of electric tingles, but the pain was secondary to the excitement that was bubbling inside her. She still couldn't move properly and her eyes were being stubborn, but she was able to force enough energy into her left hand to make it twitch a few times.

"Well done, my boy!" the Man cheered, delight evident in his voice.

Nurse Young gasped. "I need get Dr. McGuire. I'll just be a moment!" she shouted as her hurried footsteps left the room.

"She didn't wake up though." the boy said, confused.

"Oh, but she did. Her hand moved. Just there. Look, it's happening again. This is simply marvelous."

A man Hermione didn't know chose that moment to speak up. "This is utterly ridiculous. How is it that my son was able to do something the doctors could not? Especially for someone he's never even met before."

"That does appear to be the question, doesn't it, Mr. Nott?"

"What did you do?" the familiar voice of the Doctor reached Hermione's ears. Though it was far from an angry accusation.

The Man chuckled in delight. "Oh I did nothing. I simply bore witness to another miracle, as you would say; but I do think you'll find your patient a bit more responsive."

The Doctor approached Hermione carefully and began muttering under his breath what Hermione could only assume were some sort of medical diagnostic spells. She didn't care what the guy was doing as long as it allowed her to open her eyes so she could see. See him. She waited and waited, but nothing was happening. She couldn't help the resulting growl of frustration and she may or may not have muttered, "It seems incompetence even runs in Doctors these days."

Everything in the room seemed to stop for the span of a single breath, before the Doctor began shouting out orders to an influx of Hospital staff, the boy was asking his dad if they could leave now, and the Man - well, she assumed it was the Man - was simply humming a pleasant little tune under his breath.

Within moments the room quieted and the doctor breathed heavily on an exhale, his words dripping in excitement. "Miss? I need you to try and open your eyes. We've turned out the lights to ease the transition, but you may still experience some difficulty."

Hermione tried to do as the good Doctor asked, but found that after a few flutters of her eyelids she couldn't and her face twisted into a pained grimace. "I didn't know eyelids could hurt."

"That's quite alright, Miss. It's to be expected. I'm Dr. McGuire. Can you tell me your name?"

"Her…" she croaked, her dry tongue darting out in an attempt to wet her even drier lips, "Hermione."

"Okay, Hermione, just relax and we'll take care of you. St. Mungo's is renowned for treating severe trauma patients. You're in good hands."

The fog that had been blanketing her mind suddenly cleared at the realization of where - exactly - she was. She knew she had been in a hospital of some kind, knew there were doctors and nurses taking care of her broken body. What she didn't know was how she had gotten here. She thought back to the last thing she could remember and panicked. Surely he wouldn't have brought her here. He knew these people would kill her. So why were they helping her? Morbid thoughts of how they probably wanted her completely healed so they could play with her floated around her head in nauseating waves.

Thankfully, her body decided it was in its best interest to move - to escape - so it did so as a flood of panic-induced adrenaline washed through her. She flailed her arms and legs as she tried to move off the bed. Her heart stuttered in her chest as her breathing grew heavy and erratic. "Can't be here! Can't be here!" she screamed hoarsely as arms from all sides tried to hold her down to the bed.

"Why can't you be here?" the Man spoke.

Hermione felt tears leak from beneath her lashes as the oncoming panic attack began to take hold. She sobbed her voice breaking as she whispered Voldemort over and over.

"Who's Voldemort, Hermione?" McGuire asked and for a moment it felt as if her panic would subside just long enough for her to - finally - open her eyes and settle him with a glacial look.

"How can you not know who he is?!" she shouted, her right arm free from whomever had been holding it down. "He'll kill me. He'll find me here and kill me. I can't. I can't! Let me go! Let me go!"

She felt hands frame her face and forcefully coax her jaw apart. She struggled more as a nasty as hell concoction was poured in her mouth. She gagged and coughed trying to spit whatever they were giving her out. She needed to leave. Why didn't they understand that? She felt some of the liquid drip down her throat in a small, but steady stream and she cried. She cried because she was supposed to die; but these people had healed her - prolonging the sweet death she craved.

"Who's Voldemort, Hermione?" the Man asked in as soothing a tone as he could muster.

Hermione sobbed as her body grew heavy, her movements sluggish. Whatever they had given her was forcing her into a restful state and she most certainly did not want to be in one. Her eyes flickered open - fighting the nagging urge to sleep - to stare into icy blue eyes hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses. Eyes that were once unseeing, in a broken body, beneath the Tower four years ago.

"You're dead."

He chuckled. "I can assure you I'm quite alive."

Hermione's eyes widened further until the whites were clearly visible around her irises. She jerked her head from side to side in uncontrolled spasms as the implications of what he just said sunk in. A sob broke through her chapped lips as she stared in shock and dread up at the man who had been a figurehead in her childhood. A man the wizarding world knew as Albus Dumbledore.

"You're supposed to be dead." she whispered harshly, "What day is it? What day is it?!"

Dumbledore looked down on her with kind eyes. "I do believe it's Thursday, the twenty-fifth of April. You've been out of it for just over a month. It's to be expected that you're a bit disoriented."

"Year! What's the year?!"

A thin line began to form between his white-haired brows as he flicked his eyes up to McGuire and then back down towards her, seemingly thinking over what exactly was happening. "It's 1991, Hermione."

Hermione promptly passed out.