"…her vitals appear normal…"
"...of course…normal…woke up!"
"…optimistic?"
"….it's the truth….old bag…."
Two voices drifted gradually through Hermione's consciousness, one higher-pitched and grating, the other low, soft, and reassuring. The heat around her was gone, leaving her feeling somewhat bereft and empty, but she felt a warm palm rest on her cheek, the temperature and tenderness acting as a release for her cold, lonely skin. Leaning into the touch, Hermione heard a gasp.
"…Miss Granger?" the high voice asked tentatively. Hermione just left her head pressed up against the warm palm, smiling as a thumb traced over her cheekbone.
"Hermione," the lower voice said, "it's me, Draco. Can you open your eyes for me, sweet?"
Hermione's heart thrilled, doing loops in her chest, and her eyes shot open. Gradually her vision focused, latching immediately onto a pair of grey eyes. "Sweet?" she croaked, her throat feeling scratchy and unused.
Draco smiled, the moment of joy lighting up his face before he schooled his expression to a slightly more neutral one. "What?" he drawled, "Would you prefer frizzball? That'd work just as well."
Attempting to smile, Hermione's muscles contracted and expanded to accommodate her happiness. These actions, however, didn't work out as planned; she cried out as she felt the disturbance of multiple bruises, lacerations, and potential fractures. She shifted, attempting to relieve the pain, only to gasp as a white-hot laser of agony shot up from her collarbone and ribcage. Now panting, Hermione couldn't miss the concerned look in Draco's eyes.
"Madam Pomfrey," he said, his voice low and demanding authority, "now that Miss Granger is awake, might it not be prudent to attempt the healing charms again before she dies of blood loss or pain?"
Hermione's hazy vision flicked over to where the mediwitch was standing with her mouth open, shock written in her every feature. Draco's tone, however, seemed to bring her out of her stupor and she immediately descended upon Hermione, waving her wand and muttering diagnostic incantations. Looping her wand in a semi-circle, Madame Pomfrey summoned a vial of strange orange potion. She flicked it over to Draco almost casually. "Give her this, Mister Malfoy," she commanded, mimicking the commanding tone that Draco had previously just used on her.
"…voice restoration potion?" Draco asked, seemingly nonchalantly. Anyone who knew him well, however, would find the hint of skepticism in his tone almost overbearing. "Shouldn't we focus on her physical injuries prior to fixing her vocal chords?"
The mediwitch shook her head vehemently. "Before we perform any extensive healing charms we must make sure that the patient is fully mentally competent and non-volatile."
Hermione could feel Draco's anger building as he set the vial down on the night-side table. "The patient?" he said lowly. "You're talking about Hermione Granger, whom you have known for seven years. Do you honestly think that she would be danger to anyone?"
"She's been through a traumatic experience," Madame Pomfrey said calmly, running her wand over Hermione's ribs. "We have to collect this information so that we can decide whether to take a calculated risk and heal her fully. If she's mentally unstable it would be logical to not proceed any further with the treatment."
"She is fine," Draco said, not raising his voice above a half-whisper. "I think we can afford to take a calculated risk and prevent her from bleeding out while we watch."
Moving her hand through the agony, ignoring the alarm bells that went off as she watched the argument about her mental state, Hermione grabbed the vial of potion on her bedside. Neither Pomfrey nor Malfoy noticed as she raised the vial to her lips and felt the soothing effect of the orange-tasting liquid slipping down her throat and working its magic.
"Mister Malfoy, she has just emerged from a magical coma -"
"Entirely successfully!"
"How can you be so sure of your diagnosis? Have you been doing some extra credit reading, hmm? Fancy yourself a healer?"
"Madame Pomfrey, I must insist -"
"You may not insist, Mister Malfoy -"
"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!" Hermione yelled, closing her eyes to shut out the pain that shouting caused in her lungs. Well, she thought snidely to herself, apparently that voice potion works. Excellently.
"I am perfectly capable of speaking on my own behalf, thank you," she said, controlled and quiet. "I believe that I am perfectly sane, and I do not feel any sudden urges to smash things or become the next Voldemort" - Madame Pomfrey winced – "so I would assume that my magic is under control."
Draco seemed to be suppressing a smile, although his brow was still furrowed and concern still hovered behind the grey surface of his eyes. Hermione quirked a small – painful – smile, and looked back at the silent mediwitch. Madame Pomfrey cleared her throat, deliberately still not meeting Hermione's eyes. "Miss Granger," she started slowly, "may I ask you a few routine questions to determine whether your mental facilities are intact?"
"You may," Hermione said shortly.
The mediwitch did not seem deterred by the curt reply. "And afterwards may I ask you to perform some simple magic, just to ensure that your core is undamaged despite being in a comatose and dormant state for some time?"
"Yes," Hermione said simply, looking briefly at Draco. "That shouldn't be an issue."
"Brilliant," Madame Pomfrey said, looking up to meet Hermione's steady gaze. "What is your full name?"
"Hermione Jean Granger."
"Do you know what today's date is?"
Attempting to mimic Draco's coy eyebrow-raise, Hermione tilted her head in the less-agonizing direction. "I have no idea," she said pointedly. "I know that when I was abducted it was November third, but I have no clue how long I spent in captivity or how long I was…unconscious." A sudden thought came to Hermione's mind. "Draco! You're…you're not dead! But, how - ?"
"You used Earth Magic, Hermione," Draco said quietly. "You somehow stopped the curse, killed Lucius, and sent yourself into this strange magical coma."
Hermione's eyes grew wide, her stunned gaze meeting Draco's calm, level one. She was about to say something else, when the mediwitch felt she had to assert her place once more. "Excuse me!" Madame Pomfrey said brusquely. "I am asking the questions here! Mister Malfoy, please do not interrupt again. Who is the current head of Hogwarts, Miss Granger?"
"Professor Minerva McGonagall," Hermione said tiredly, wishing she could just go back to sleep and stop bleeding. "Taking over, of course, from former Headmaster Severus Snape, a member of the Order of the Phoenix who was acting as a Death Eater in order to gain information for the light and protect students to the best of his abilities. And he, of course, took over the position from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, who I do not need to tell you about, and before him came Armando Dippet -"
"It's quite clear that Miss Granger still has Hogwarts: A History memorized down to the last semi-colon," Draco said coolly, interrupting Hermione's tired monologue. "Is that not satisfactory proof of her mental capabilities?"
Obviously ruffled, Madame Pomfrey sniffed quickly. "Yes, I suppose it will do," she said stiffly. "However, before I begin the healing process, would you please demonstrate some magic, Miss Granger?"
"What would you like me to do, Madame?" Hermione said, intentionally leaving off the mediwitch's last name.
The slight did not go unnoticed. "Levitate this," Madame Pomfrey said coldly, handing Hermione a copy of Hogwarts: A History. "Hopefully you will find this edition to your liking, Miss Granger."
Hermione gave the witch a painful, sickly-sweet smile and turned her attention on the book. Draco handed her a thick, maple-wood wand that felt wrong in her hand, and it was only then that Hermione realized she had most likely lost her beautiful wand forever. Pull yourself together, witch, she said forcefully to herself, shaking out of it. Now come on, a silent 'wingardium leviosa'. Sixth year stuff. You can do it.
Focusing all of her attention on the battered tome, Hermione thought, Wingardium Leviosa! and felt a distinct pull beneath her stomach that she hadn't felt before. Not quite the gut-wrenching feeling of apparition, this feeling still made Hermione nauseous. It was only after a few silent seconds that Hermione realized the book hadn't levitated.
Her brow furrowed, a sinking feeling in her stomach, Hermione attempted the silent charm once more. The book didn't budge.
Suddenly very conscious of Draco and Madame Pomfrey's concerned gazes, Hermione sat up as tall as she could without crying out in pain, and stated firmly, "Wingardium Leviosa". Only then, only after she had said the charm aloud, did the book begin to rise. But, it was not up to Hermione's usual standards; the same, strange pulling feeling from her stomach returned, and the book wobbled as it hovered a mere few inches off the desk. Hermione's heart plummeted.
No.
Dark screams from a dark, strange creature.
NO.
A black splotch, blotting out beautiful silver.
NO!
"There is always a price, no matter what…."
It's just an after-effect of the coma, Hermione, it's not a big deal…I'm sure this is only temporary.
Madame Pomfrey was looking at Hermione expectantly, but she had obviously missed something that the mediwitch had said. Smiling, Hermione said, "Sorry? I didn't quite catch that."
The mediwitch's eyes showed a moment of fear. "I asked if I could run a test on your magical core, Miss Granger."
Hermione nodded stiffly and looked up at Draco. The blonde gave her an encouraging smile, but he was an open book to her; fear was evident in his eyes too, and Hermione felt her own terror bubbling just beneath the surface of her skin.
Madame Pomfrey pointed her wand directly at Hermione's heart, muttering in a language that sounded suspiciously like Gaelic. A red twisted symbol hovered in the air over Hermione's chest, and the mediwitch blanched. "What?" Hermione asked, a spark of terror creeping into her voice. "What is it?"
The witch swallowed, her eyes still focused on the space where the symbol had been. "Madame Pomfrey?" Draco said quietly, no hostility in his tone. "What does the red mean?"
"That," Madame Pomfrey said shakily, "is an indication that Hermione's magical core is permanently damaged." Complete silence. "Whilst in the coma it must have been damaged somehow, or potentially it was damaged before she used the Earth Magic -"
"No, no no," Hermione said quickly, her mind whirring faster and faster and faster, out of control. "The Guardian did it when I was leaving his space." Looking down, Hermione started fiddling with the bed sheets. "Because I wasn't a Transparent I had a core, but he didn't want me to leave….Sirius saved me, but the Guardian managed to grab part of my core as I was apparating. Part of it was silver, but part of it was black. He said that there would be a price for me to leave, but….oh God!"
When Hermione looked up again with tears in her eyes, both Draco and Madame Pomfrey looked incredibly confused and….scared? Why on earth would they be scared? It's me who's virtually a squib!
The full reality of the situation hit her, and it was all Hermione could do to contain her sobs. "You…saw Sirius Black?" Madame Pomfrey said softly.
"Yes," Hermione said firmly, determined that her voice wouldn't wobble. "he saved me from the Guardian."
"Who is this Guardian?" the mediwitch asked, tilting her head.
Hermione thought for a moment. "It's not who, but more like what," she finally decided. "He is the very land I was in. At first I believed that I was in heaven" – obviously the two wizards around her had no idea what heaven was, but Hermione was in no mood to recite Genesis – "but obviously not, as I returned here. The Guardian was this horrible creature, made out of stars and darkness and these two white-hot holes for eyes…he was terrifying."
"Could this have been a dream, Hermione?" Draco asked, his voice laced with subtle concern.
The truth hit Hermione hard, knocking all the wind out of her as she stared into troubled grey eyes laced with fear. "You don't believe me," she said softly. "Neither of you."
"No matter what happened dear, you must come to terms with the fact that you have little-to-no magic," Madame Pomfrey said matter-of-factly, cutting off Draco who was obviously about to respond. "You'll be able to cast simple, verbal charms – such as levitation spells, cleaning spells, potentially even a vanishing charm – however large spells such as the patronus charm and unforgivables will be far beyond your physical capacity."
Obviously the mediwitch couldn't see how much this was hurting Hermione. Beautiful dreams, carefully created and placed on a high shelf, were falling, shattering on the ground in millions of irreparable pieces. No magic. No future. No life.
"You'll be granted special status by the Ministry of course, but you'll have to file for that paperwork sooner rather than later. This paperwork must be presented on all significant occasions; crossing borders, your wedding, employment interviews, and the like. It's mandatory that your status be made public to all."
"Is there a name for me?" Hermione said hoarsely, her voice betraying her pain. "I'm not a squib, but I'm not a witch. There has to be a name."
There was a moment of silence. To Hermione's surprise, it was Draco who answered her. His voice was toneless and flat, his lack of emotion confirming Hermione's darkest fears. "The official term is a Semi-Competent Witch or Wizard, however those afflicted with this condition are more commonly referred to as "Almosts"."
An Almost. I am an Almost.
Draco continued softly; "As you might guess, society isn't particularly kind to these individuals. Most of them end up assimilating into muggle culture."
Madame Pomfrey jumped in. "It's all right my dear, this will work out," she said, moving to grab Hermione's hand.
Even through the pain, Hermione moved her hand away. "Don't touch me," she snapped, clasping her still-bloody hands together. She took a deep breath. "I'm telling the truth about the Guardian," she said calmly, closing her eyes. "You can choose not to believe me, you can choose to commit me, you can choose to not heal me – I don't bloody care. Just. Get. Out."
There were a few moments of silence as Madame Pomfrey and Draco didn't move. Eventually, Hermione heard the soft click of the mediwitch's shoes leaving the cubicle. "Hermione," Draco said quietly, breaking the silence.
"I said go away," Hermione snapped, ignoring the tears that fell treacherously from her eyes.
"I just want you to know that I believe you."
Don't do this Draco.
"No one knows what happens when someone goes into a magical coma, no one's ever come back before – for all we know there could be a Guardian, and Sirius, and all that."
Stop being so bloody wonderful, Draco. Please.
"I just…I wanted to say that I love you, Hermione."
No. Not now, please, no –
"I didn't realize it until -"
"Leave, Malfoy," she said firmly, using his last name intentionally. The pain of her action sliced through her, but she knew that what she was doing was right; she was an Almost, and he was a Pureblood. Draco deserved so much more than what she could offer – he shouldn't give his heart away to a useless witch like her. His heart was far too precious. For the Greater Good, she thought bitterly, feeling like she'd just ripped an open wound in her soul.
The change in the atmosphere of the room was palpable. "Fine, Granger," Draco said coldly, his heart shuttered. "Enjoy your little stay in the sick ward. It might be the last chance you have to legitimately live inside of Hogwarts."
The comment was made to hurt, but it did more than that; it destroyed.
Long after Draco had left the room, Hermione stayed sitting up, silent tears coursing down her cheek, her soul in pieces all around her, her dreams in shattered fragments on the floor.
A/N: Sorry for the long delay, everyone! This chapter was incredibly hard to write, as I'm sure you can all imagine. We're not too far from the end here, everyone! Keep hanging on with me, Draco, and Hermione for just a little bit longer. Love to all my readers and reviewers, your kind and constructive words are always so wonderful and appreciated. ~sneakyslytherin
PS - I've had some comments about Luna's age, and would just like to say that I took the creative liberty and put her a year up - it felt like Hermione didn't have too many close female friends in her year, and I wanted to give her one. If you must, believe that Luna took summer courses. :) Oh, and also, for this chapter I assume that the world has become aware of Sirius' innocence after the fall of the Dark Lord. Thanks for your tolerance of my crazy changes.