Chapter Thirty - Bonsai Conditions for Organic Atria
Despite the prognosis delivered by Professor Snape upon the morning of Draco's injury, two days of deep rest were not sufficient to wake him. A third day, then a fourth, winked in and out without any sign of Draco's return from his comatose fog.
Severus Snape was unapproachable to hound, though it wasn't for lack of effort. During the Potions class which took place on the third day, Hermione had intended to stay after and ask the professor whether he'd had the time to run another evaluation. Snape literally shooed her from the room.
As a natural consequence, all of her queries became the sole burden of Poppy Pomfrey.
The poor witch was already up to her ears in work. The month after the winter holidays typically saw a number of prank-related injuries, from presents the students had smuggled in from home (and, as Pomfrey proclaimed with high agitation, a general unwillingness to settle out of the break-induced rowdiness). But Hermione was still assured that - even should the Madam have had all the time in the world - she would still lack definitive answers.
"He's not going to sleep forever, Miss Granger, but this is about all I can tell you." She'd said. "Professor Snape performed an impressive bit of magic to get his body to a state where it could recover on its own, but that recovery is still consuming every drop of strength Mr Malfoy has. He will heal in his own time. There's nothing else we can do."
"Will he have a scar?"
This particular question was never meant to pass her lips. What could it matter to Hermione? She had her own scar. Light disfigurement was a small price to pay for life.
"Yes, dear. He will have several."
Ah - but, there it was. Confirmation seemed to add clarity. Disfigurement was one thing - an easy thing to digest. Evidence, was another.
A great shame had been committed, and now it could never be forgotten. It may serve as a reminder for another reason to hate Harry Potter; a warning that she, nor anyone else, could be trusted with his vulnerability.
Though she'd asked more than once, Hermione was kept from remaining at Draco's bedside for any prolonged period. She went to the infirmary whenever she could, and each time she received only five minutes with which to watch the still expression on his face for any ripple of change; to hold a hand which couldn't feel her own pressed flush over it with wishes she wouldn't speak aloud.
Harry asked after Draco every day.
By the fifth day, like Hermione, he'd grown afraid.
"So, I haven't killed him." He said, late in the evening, while they were alone in the common room. "But suppose I've done something worse? Suppose he'll lie in that bed forever."
Hermione screwed her eyes shut against the irrational visual of a room next to Gilderoy Lockhart's at St Mungo's, reserved for the vegetative remains of the Malfoy heir.
"That won't happen." She could hear the reproach in her words, so it came as no surprise that Harry turned suddenly doleful eyes upon her.
"Will you ever forgive me, Hermione?"
"I have forgiven you, as much as I'm able. I forgive you for my part." She replied. "Draco is the only person who can complete the forgiveness... if that makes any sense."
"You have my word - "
"Harry, my love."
Hermione craned her neck to look over the wing of her armchair, just as Harry did the same. Ginny was at the foot of the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.
"I think it's time you went to sleep." She said.
"Give us a moment, please."
Ginny shook her head as she took soft steps over to Harry's chair. She ran a hand along his cheek and bent to kiss the crown of tousled black hair. She remained over him for a moment to speak quietly, though her words were still audible.
"Go to sleep, Harry. I want to talk to Hermione alone now." She straightened, and her hand continued its caress of Harry's jawline. "You've bothered her enough this week - it's my turn."
It was a joke, but the preferred option would have been for no one to "bother" her at all. Nonetheless, Hermione offered Harry a smile of reassurance when he looked over to her. He caught Ginny's hand, kissed it, and rose from the seat so that she could take it.
"G'night, Hermione." He ambled away, and only turned once to throw them a wistful glance.
"He's turned into a puppy since he cursed Draco." Ginny tucked her legs upon the cushion and inclined herself towards Hermione. "I don't think anything's ever affected him quite this way."
"As it should."
"Right." Ginny said plainly. "As it should."
Hermione began the only topic that came to mind - desperate to stave off the bothering.
"I've tried looking into Horcruxes." She said, and Ginny appeared to repress a shudder at the mere mention. "What I've found hardly scratches the surface. I think I'm going to need to break into the Restricted Section."
"Will I be included in this nefarious scheme of yours?" Ginny grinned devilishly.
"Would you want to be?"
"Obviously. I get so bored with Harry and Ron, sometimes. And, I'm never really invited along when they get up to their mischief."
"You were with us in the Department of Mysteries."
"That was a fluke and you know it." Ginny said stoutly. "The fact is, Harry can't 'bear putting me at risk', or however it is he phrases it. And I don't mind for the most part. But I like mischief, too, from time to time."
"To be fair, the Restricted Section is child's play." Hermione said. "You're not likely to get much of a thrill out of it."
"Well, either way, I'm in." Ginny smiled again. "We could try tomorrow night."
Hermione nodded, and was a breath away from bidding goodnight. Ginny, astute as she was, seemed to sense it.
"Before you go, Hermione..." She fiddled with the embroidered lapel of her dressing gown. "I want to make sure you're alright. I know this whole thing has hurt you more than you've let on. Even Ron can sense it."
"I've definitely made my frustration known, Ginny."
"I'm talking about your pain, Hermione."
There was nothing safe to say. The silence was allowed to expand until Ginny decided where to take the conversation.
"When Harry was called to Dumbledore, he was forced to give over a memory of what happened in the lavatory." This, certainly, was not the expected direction. "Snape demanded it, apparently. And Dumbledore agreed that it would be best to see Harry in action, to determine whether or not he'd known what the curse would do to Draco."
"Why are you telling me this, Ginny?"
Ginny merely made a gesture - a supplication for patience - before she went on. "Harry told me he had to watch it playback as well. That was Dumbledore's idea, and I can see why. No better way to impress the lesson, I reckon, than seeing yourself at your lowest point of rationality. Harry's had nightmares about it ever since. And I don't feel sorry for him - that's not what I'm trying to say..."
Ginny tore her gaze from her dressing gown and fixed Hermione with a look of such sincerity that she felt her muscles tense.
"The part Harry talks about the most, is seeing what happened to you, after Draco went down."
Hermione inhaled a breath, and held it.
"He says he's never heard you scream like that. He says you didn't even look like yourself."
She shut her eyes.
"You performed wandless magic, d'you remember that?"
A stiff shake of the head - though she didn't, at the moment, register what Ginny had said enough to believe it. She knew what was coming next. It was the only thing she could focus on.
In fact, as her lungs seemed about to explode with the force of the breath she held; as she released it, it carried words meant to overturn the anticipation.
"I'm not in love with him, Ginevra."
She met Ginny's eyes; found them full of a compassion she couldn't quite handle.
"I wasn't going to say that." She said, quietly. "But I think it's clear that you care very deeply for him. Care doesn't have to be romantic. And... well, if it were, I wouldn't insult you for it. I wouldn't call you stupid. I wouldn't tell anyone else."
"I'd have reacted the same if it had been Harry, you, or Ron in his place." Hermione replied, and Ginny gave her a soft smile.
"I know you would." She said. "Whatever the case, I just want you to understand... None of us are in a place to criticise you anymore, Hermione. We're with you in this. And if you say Draco Malfoy is worthy of help, then I will follow your lead."
Again with that sensitivity she must've inherited from her mother, Ginny left no room for Hermione to cobble together an awkward reply. Instead, she said, "I have something for you, from Harry."
She reached into the fold of her dressing gown and began to slide a long bolt of silvery fabric from within. She looked for a moment like a party magician, only it was a genuine cloak of invisibility she produced.
"What's this for?" Hermione took it, as Ginny held the Invisibility Cloak over the gap separating their chairs.
"For whenever you want to nip into the Hospital Wing." Ginny replied innocently. "And, I imagine it'll come in handy for the Restricted Section."
"Why didn't Harry just give it to me himself?"
"You'd have to ask him to know for sure." Ginny tossed the hair from her shoulder as she settled back in her seat. "Maybe he's too uncomfortable. He's getting better, but Harry's not that good at sentimentality."
Once again, Hermione did not have the right thing to say. Her fists bunched into the fabric of the cloak, now pooled in her lap. "I appreciate it, Gin. More than you know - but will you give me some time alone?
"Of course."
Ginny's tone lacked disappointment, but it surely would have shown on her face if Hermione could bring herself to examine it. With goodbyes exchanged, Ginny got to her feet and went off in search of her four-poster.
Once all sound had ceased for a solid five minutes, Hermione threw the cloak over her shoulders and made for the portrait-hole.
The first weekend of March - while still a bit in the distance, according to the average standard - stood out to the athletically inclined as coming any day. Ron did not speak often in Hermione's presence anymore, and when he did, it typically concerned pointless suppositions about Tolusia Trechtemire, or (obviously) Quidditch.
It came as no surprise, then, that Hermione could recognise Ron's shock of bright red hair as he stretched atop a broom near the goal posts of the Quidditch pitch. Dinner was only moments away, and typically, Ron could not be prevailed upon to miss it under any circumstances. Tonight, however, would clearly be the third meal missed since he'd returned from holiday.
Hermione went looking for him, by Ginny's request, who'd not seen him since classes ended for the day. Odd, that Harry wasn't alongside him, but it had become a sort of trend as Ron threw himself more into practice than even Harry could maintain. All that conjecture could piece together, was a distinct impression that they left Ron alone on purpose; that Hermione had been asked to find him alone, on purpose.
He played against an enchanted Quaffle, which tried to score goals against his defense with minimal success. Hermione walked to the centre of the pitch to be more easily seen (something never to be done when the Beaters unleashed their Bludgers) and watched Ron with the same sense of pride she'd held for him during tryouts.
The dedication had certainly paid off; Ron had immeasurably improved.
Hermione shielded her eyes against the low sun. And as the grass tickled her bare ankles, she took in the sight.
However, it didn't take long for Ron to spot her. All movements ceased on his end and the Quaffle - which likely sensed the abrupt end of sport - stuttered in the air and fell to the ground, some way ahead of where Hermione stood. He took his time in flying down to meet her, however; he seemed about to do so upon first sight, before he suddenly deviated into a lap over the pitch. Three revolutions passed until Hermione began to lose her patience. And, as he appeared about to take a fourth, she huffed to herself, and pivoted back into the direction from which she'd come.
Only as she neared the gate did Ron finally call for her.
He was still in flight as she faced him once more, and he hardly slowed as his feet touched the ground and continued in a brisk walk towards her.
"Where are you going?" He asked.
"I got the impression that you were trying to avoid me." She said plainly.
"Well, I was, a bit. I know why you're here, so forgive me if I'm not exactly eager to go on with it." He walked past her now, towards the rickety stairs cloistered near the gate, which would take them to the stands. "Come on, then."
Minutes later, they'd settled in the third row of what was typically the Ravenclaw box.
Along the horizon, a flat sheet of cloud had broken into dozens of smaller pieces, splashed with a vivid orange that was nearly blinding to behold. Hermione looked anyway, and found that she thought of Luna, just then. Appropriate, considering where they'd chosen to sit, but it struck soundly now that Hermione hadn't spoken to her even once since the exchange before the Black Lake. When Luna had been kind, and wise... and unguarded, as she'd admitted, "I spend more time than I'd like keeping things to myself."
Well, that would have to change.
Hermione straightened up to savour the breeze that rolled high above the ground; it surrounded her and Ron where they sat.
"I'm ready whenever you are," Ron said now, and when she opened her eyes she found a stoic expression on his face.
"To be honest, I'm not sure what you mean." Hermione said. "I get the feeling Ginny wants me to speak with you. Apparently you want me to speak with you. But I'm lost, Ron."
"What, you haven't noticed the distance?" He gestured between them with a thickly gloved hand.
Above him the cerulean sky began to darken to cobalt, as that band of mottled clouds sank closer to the horizon.
"I've noticed. But, again, I don't know what it's about." Hermione trapped her hands between her thighs to keep them warm. "Really, Ron, I reckon you should start."
For a while, Ron turned his face to the emerging stars with no response. She felt no need to rush him. She'd given good riddance to any notion of dinner.
"I broke up with Lavender." He said at last. "Don't look like that - everyone knew it wouldn't last. I care for her more than I thought I would, but... it's not right. I can't be with her."
"Why not?" Hermione hadn't even noticed Lavender's lack of appearance until this very moment.
Granted, her mind had not been in its prime state as of late, but it was quite an oversight.
A miniscule sigh pulled at Ron's shoulders by a fraction. "Because I always believed you and I would be together one day. I really thought so. Lavender was convenient for me - and I know that paints me a right bastard, but there you have it. I didn't realise it until recently."
"Oh, Ron..." Hermione swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "I know what you mean... I used to think the same thing, but you were happy with Lavender. Or, you seemed to be. When I saw you that way, I... Well, I couldn't picture myself in her place."
"It always seemed inevitable, didn't it, though?" He asked. "It wasn't just me."
"No, it wasn't just you." She peeked at Ron from the corner of her eye, too afraid to look at him straight-on. "Did you break up with Lavender for..."
"I broke up with Lavender because there's no honour in continuing a relationship I started for convenience. It isn't fair to her." Ron said. "She didn't take it well. And I don't think I'm taking it well, but no, Hermione; I didn't break up with her in order to date you."
"D'you have feelings for me?"
"It's complicated. It feels like a wasted opportunity." He replied. "You've always been this goal in my head. Like I'd know that I'd really got it together when you chose me."
"I'd drive you insane, Ron. I could never make you happy."
He gave a tight smile. "Well, there's no sense in mincing theoreticals, is there?"
"I'm sorry, Ron." She questioned the propriety of taking his hand. It hardly seemed the right mood for it.
Yet, Ron was one of her oldest friends. She never wanted to lose the intimacy with either him, or Harry. What would a walk from Hogsmeade be, if she could no longer throw an arm round each of the boys as they went, for fear of embarrassment? Better to establish it now, before the molecules of tension could crystalise.
She angled her knees in his direction and settled a gentle grip on his forearm. He tilted his head to look at her, his fringe in need of a trim as it partially curtained his eyes.
"Right." The lighthearted countenance was forced, as evidenced by his equally gentle withdrawal from her touch. "Truthfully, Hermione, I don't need an apology. Since I found out about all that's happened, I've gone between relief and regret. The relief will come back by the time I wake up tomorrow."
"Since you found out what, exactly?" Hermione asked.
"About you and Malfoy."
"I'm confused now." Hermione said, after a pause in which she tried to connect the dots. "You found out Draco got cursed, and that made you realise you're relieved we're not dating?"
"I'm talking about you and Malfoy." Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about the... the thing you two've got going on."
She smiled, despite the seriousness of the situation. "I take it Ginny's shared her suspicions with you."
"Ginny and I have not talked about this." Ron cried. "I haven't talked about this with anyone. But that only proves what I'm saying, if I'm not the only one."
"I'm telling you, it's unfounded. I don't think of Draco that way." When Ron raised his brows with inconspicuous doubt, Hermione shook her head. "I'm serious! I just... if I were someone like him, I would want at least one person to take a serious look at me and challenge my worth. I can't help but feel compassion for his situation. Aside from that, Draco doesn't think of me that way, either."
"Look, I won't tell you how you feel, Hermione." Ron said. "But you might want to consider that Malfoy has other motivations."
"I don't know what that means, Ronald."
He sighed, deeply, and got to his feet. "He fancies you. Nothing else in the world could make such a coward approach nobility."
"It's really not like that."
"Well, it's either that or a scheme, I reckon." He made to step over the seats below them, and gestured for Hermione to remain seated as she prepared to follow him. "I also reckon it's none of my business. I'll walk for a while, I think. Goodnight, Hermione."
"See you, Ron."
Soon he'd disappeared on the steps which took him to ground level, but Hermione waited until the creak of the gate hinge signified his total departure before she began her own.
She took a page from Ron's book and ventured towards the loggia before the Black Lake. A walk would suit anyone, after a conversation like that.
The torches installed upon each column of the loggia brought some warmth to what had otherwise become quite a bleak winter night. Though, the flames robbed the stars of their brilliance, and reduced the sky to a still, inky backdrop.
With each step she took she felt more like a liar. She felt deceitful.
She'd noticed Draco's closeness. She'd noticed how much more she liked his hair these days, now that he'd abandoned the more pristine style and allowed it to relax into the most subtle, natural waves. It was impossible to forget the manner in which they'd parted back in Ryde.
"No - Don't be."
That was always what he said to her apologies.
Sometimes, he looked at her like...
A laugh bubbled up - and burst forth with the mortifying dimension of a tearless sob.
As she walked, her right hand closed instinctually over her left wrist; she recalled Draco's thumb at the point where her heart's thrum could doubtless be felt, firm and clear. Unmistakable. Eloquent, surely.
The way he looked at her, sometimes...
It thrilled, and it brought the most wretched pain, when he'd look at her like that.
Like a man who's got to reconcile with something he isn't prepared to face. Like he's moored on an island with no other avenue of rescue in sight, but for her.
He could take it all, he'd said. He could die and not regret it, if she remembered his potential.
Hermione sagged against one of the columns - one of the last before a door would bring her into an antechamber with nothing in it aside from a single suit of armour. Her fingers massaged her temples in a fruitless attempt at self-soothing.
Ron had never meant to cause it - neither had Ginny - but their suspicions hurt. Their suspicions could never be.
Hermione worked tirelessly to keep her affection for Draco pruned in a fashion that might resemble what she'd cultivated with her friends, if one looked at it from the proper angle. Nothing more was affordable, nothing more was safe. Nor was it wise, or even grounded in the smallest iota of logic.
Draco didn't fancy her. Over the dwindling term he'd grown reliant upon her. She'd become his moral compass, the lionhearted witch with a temper, who harped over his shoulder about better ways of thinking. He very well might think himself attracted; but in the event that she succumbed to madness and encouraged it, he'd soon wake to the assurance that he'd mistaken novelty for compatibility.
And Hermione Granger would die before she ever lost herself to such harm, or disgrace.
Author's Note:
Hello my lovely little dumplings and my special noodle!
Hello to all guests new and old, and thank you for the feedback for the last chapter. Unfortunately our poor Draco is still in convalescence but he shall soon accrue enough energy from the world-wide claps to spring out of bed.
The majority vote for a sequel has been taken under advisement. The council convenes sometime between now and the next chapter (three days I promise) and afterwards we will know more.
Can you all tell I'm tired? Well, I'm tired.
Thank you, thank you thanks for all the sweet words. All the insight and keen observations. You (yes, you) are my favourite part of this whole endeavour.
Guest No. 1 (in order of appearance): I've always hate to tear up two lover's, but what can one do in the midst of quiet war? Poor Hinny indeed :c
Guest No. 2: I have honestly been looking forward to writing a healthy Trio dynamic again for a long time. I agree, they definitely need each other.
Sidenote!
Most of the chapter titles are run-of-the-mill, but many of them are a bit of a word puzzle that I'd be DELIGHTED for a few of you to play with, should you wish (always keeping within the major motifs of the chapter). Also, has anyone worked out the symbolism of Draco's rhyme? None of it is mandatory coursework, of course, but if anyone's got any thoughts... well, you know where to find me.