This is rather amazing; two chapters in less than a week! Anyway, please enjoy and review…
Overtaking Darkness
"With every mistake we must surely be learning,
Still my guitar gently weeps…"
~ While My Guitar Gently Weeps, The Beatles
During the next month and a half, everyone saw a change in Hermione. It was gradual, of course, but every time she came back from her weekend visits to Oliver, who was slowly recovering, she looked paler, more ill, studied more and laughed less. Harry and Ron would beg her to do things with them, would even help her study, and they could make her smile. But there was only so much they could do before her eyes would grow large and frightened, and she would silently worry over Oliver.
One morning, when November was giving way to snowy December, Parvati noticed that Hermione's bed's curtains were open, and, though the darkness was barely giving way to light, that she was in the bathroom, bending over the sink. Vomiting.
Quickly wiping the sleep from her eyes, she hurried to where Hermione stood, waiting for the girl to see her. When Hermione finally turns around, her eyes are wide and pleading, "Please, Parvati, please don't tell Madame Pomfrey! I'm fine, really!"
"How long has this been happening?" Parvati asks, not wanting to give any clue of the action she plans to take.
"About two weeks, but it's been getting better. It was rather bad, those first few days, but now I'm fine!" she replies, wiping her face, which is still pale.
"You're going to see Madame Pomfrey, you know," Parvati replies, putting a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulders, which is rather promptly taken off.
"All right," she whispers, as if she has been defeated in a war for the most important thing she values.
°
Poppy Pomfrey was not a gentle woman, but she was kind. Looking up from her desk with concern, she quickly sat the still-sick-looking Hermione down on a bed, and made she and Parvati answer a barrage of questions: What had happened, how long it had happened, if there was a fever, what were possible causes of this, et cetera, et cetera.
Finally, as neither of the girls could answer the vast majority of the questions, she decided to give Hermione an all-around test. "The results will be ready tomorrow morning," she explained, preparing for the spell.
"Thumu ulushiana!" Madame Pomfrey said, and a lavender mist passed through Hermione, and back into the Madame's wand. Feeling suddenly very lightheaded, she sat down quickly on the bed, praying that, whatever her illness was, it would soon be cured.
°
"Hermione," Harry whispered as she sat down next to him and Ron at breakfast that morning, "Bad news."
Taking the copy of the Daily Prophet that he handed her, she grimaced at the headline, "Death Eaters Attack Leaky Cauldron And Surrounding Muggle London!" This was an act that had marked Voldemort's first rise to power; it had disconnected the wizards in Diagon Alley from their homes, and, likewise, those throughout England from Diagon Alley through some sort of spell. There were not enough Aurors, the article continued, to secure the area. An alternate entrance, passwand protected, was being considered, but nothing was certain. More news would come later.
"What?" she gasped, shocked that her well-ordered, albeit magical world could come crashing down on her shoulders in such a manner. Being a witch, for her, had always been so much easier than being a Muggle; here, she always knew what to do, always knew the answer, and was respected. But now, when she needed an answer most, her mind was blank. Happily, Ron had some measure of common sense.
"Hermione, you need a piece of toast. Here; eat it," he said, shoving it into her hands.
"Are you visiting Oliver tonight?" Harry asked semi-casually, taking a gulp of his milk.
"It's tomorrow night, Harry, Percy wants me to 'stop interfering' so much, I guess. Portkeys are much safer than any other like form of transportation; don't worry, I'll be fine! But what about all this with Voldemort? I mean, Aurors aren't going to spring out of trees, are they?" Hermione asked, ignoring her bread, for nausea threatened her, and if she ate a bite, she'd be ill.
"Dumbledore's said he may recruit seventh year boys as Aurors," Ron answered, not noticing that Hermione wasn't eating.
"Isn't that a bit sexist?" she countered.
"Hermione! That's just what he said, to keep everyone safe, and you go on about women's rights!" Ron said, grinning at the prospect of an argument.
"Of course," she replied, grinning. A tiff with Ron would be refreshing!
°
Written on the Hand of Hermione Granger:
Note to self: Yell at Parvati next time I see her. When Pomfrey says there's nothing wrong, remember not to lord it over her, just be grateful!
°
Dear Hermione,
Percy's finally deemed me well enough to write to you; he's even worse than Madame Pomfrey! To think that we're the same age! He also tells me that your visiting is still safe, but I'd use one of those protection charms if I were you. I hope that you are well; I love you. And no, I'm not writing a short letter because there is nothing to say, but because I'll see you tommorow, today by the time you get this.
Love,
Oliver
°
"Professor Dumbledore?" Madame Pomfrey clutched a paper in her hand as she entered his office, still unsure of if she was doing the right thing.
"Yes, Poppy?" he responded, looking up from his pet phoenix, Fawkes, whom he had just been feeding. His twinkling eyes make her smile, and she remembers when they went to Hogwarts together, and regrets her foolishness in never telling him of her love.
"Miss Granger has a sort of, um, ailment, you see. And it's rather unheard of for a student of her, er, caliber to be in such a condition…" she answers, fumbling for the words to say, and becoming embarrassed all the same.
"I see… Thank you Poppy," he says, thereby dismissing her, to think of what to tell Hermione.
°
Hermione entered the Hospital Wing, feeling an odd sense of foreboding. Come on, the practical voice in her chided, what's the worst that could happen? Honestly, her practical voice wasn't all that practical, was it?
Madame Pomfrey looked up from her desk, a faint look of concern on her face as she saw Hermione approaching. "Hermione, I think you might want to sit down," she said graciously as she rose, leading Hermione to one of the beds.
"What is it? Some incurable disease? Or nothing at all, and you want to do more tests? Or is it that I'm losing my magic?" she asked, her eyes growing larger with concern.
"No, Hermione, dear. It's just that, well… You're going to have a baby."
°
Author's Note: Well, this chapter should make michee happy! I know, I shouldn't expect any reviews after not having added chapters in so long, but will you please, please review? I'll try and write faster if I know that people are actually reading… Do you have any suggestions about how to make the story better? Anything you want to see in later chapters? What do you want the baby to be, a boy or girl? Or do you just like the story and want to make me feel better? Just please review; it'll make my day!
Thank you!