Chapter 3
by anime_angel2000
"You what?!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione flushed red, and said, "Keep it down! It was just a dream. It didn't mean anything, anyway."
"It could have!" Harry retorted fervently. "We told you what happened in Professor Trelawny's class, right? What if you're the messenger?"
Hermione looked at him curiously. "Harry, I thought at least you had enough sense to see past something like that!" Ron glared at her, and said, "Okay, I get the hint. But what if Harry's right? You should be careful. Why didn't you tell me last night?"
Hermione looked down at the floor and said, "A lot of things happened last night. I don't really want to talk about it." Harry looked at Ron, puzzled. "What hap--" he cut off his sentence with a sharp look from Ron, who mouthed "I'll tell you later," from over Hermione's bent head. Ron said softly to Hermione, "It's all right, I'll make sure to kill him for you." "No," Hermione said frantically, "We don't want to bring that back up!"
Her plea was ended with an annoyingly familiar voice, saying, "Well, if it isn't the dream team out for a walk?"
Ron whipped around and came face to face with Malfoy, who was smirking as though nothing had happened, though his eye was still an interesting shade of purple, and a large cut ran up his thin cheekbone. "What do you want here, Malfoy?" Ron hissed. "Don't you think you've done enough?"
"Oh, no, Goodwill boy, I've barely begun."
Ron scoffed, "What, have you taken a liking to Harry now?" Draco's silver eyes glinted with anger. "You just shut your big hole, you hear me? You don't have the courage or the money to even think of coming near me again! The only reason I haven't gotten you in trouble about last night yet was because--"
"Because you don't want to get in trouble!" Ron exploded. "This wasn't anyone's fault but your own!" His voice then took on that usual sarcastic note, "What's wrong, Malfie? Afraid Mummy's gonna hear about his little boy having a time out? What's she going to do, take away one of your eight rooms? Or will she make an excuse for you, like she always does?"
"Listen, you!" Malfoy roared back in Ron's face, "You don't know anything about my family! So you just keep quiet about things you don't understand!"
Ron's fists were clenched by his sides, knuckles white. How dare Malfoy?! He was brought out of his rage when cold fingers brushed his hand. Hermione looked up at him, and said, "Come on, Ron. We don't have any more business here," and shot daggers through her eyes at Malfoy. Ron turned around and left.
As soon as they were outside, Harry said, "Now I want to know what, exactly, was that about?" Ron looked at him, and said simply, "Later."
****
How dare he? Draco thought angrily, hands balled up in his eyes. How dare that stupid boy talk of the one thing he wanted to forget?
And he tried to forget. To forget the words screamed at him. All the harsh blows, mentally and physically. He tried to forget lying in a pool of his own blood that clung to his clothes and hair. But he couldn't. All because of a Mudblood. He swore his revenge. He wanted revenge in blood.
****
Fred looked around the Transfiguration room. Everything seemed so blurry... and the voices. They were so mixed, some fast, some slow. Then they seemed to slow altogether, and the room became dark. So dark.......
George waved a hand in front of his brother's face. "Fred? Fred, wake up, Professor McGonagall is not going to like you sleeping in class..." He stopped abruptly when Fred moaned and fell to the floor.
The room fell silent. George stared at Fred, his eyes wide. "What... I didn't do anything! I promise!" Professor McGonagall stepped over briskly and looked at Fred. She muttered something under her breath, then said, "Angelina, go get Madame Pomfrey," in a sharp tone. Line of worry creased her face.
George shook his head, and backed up. He hadn't done anything, only wave his hand... no. This couldn't be happening. No! He hadn't done anything! He wasn't responsible! But somehow, he felt that he was... It was all his fault. All his fault...
****
Professor Snape's potion class fell silent as Mira walked in quickly, turned to Snape, and said, "I need to take Ron to the Hospital Ward. Now."
Snape glared at her. "Why?" He asked coldly. "He doesn't look ill to me, Miss Gately."
She glared back with more daring than the entire class had put together. "It's an emergency, Professor. This does not concern you."
Snape turned and looked at Ron with a loathing that was usually reserved for Harry alone. "Fine," he said sharply. "Go, boy. Take your things. I don't want to see your face again. Take Potter and Granger with you," he sneered, "You'll probably need all the help you can get, seeing as it is obviously oh so important, isn't that right, Miss Gately?"
She looked back at him, her blue eyes piercing almost through his skull. "Perficio Silencias. From now on, Professor, I advise you not to fool with powers you don't understand."
Snape tried to yell back, but was silenced by a black hand that drifted over his mouth whenever it opened. Meanwhile, Mira, Hermione, Ron, and Harry stepped into the hallway.
Mira looked at Ron, concern in her eyes. "Ron," she started shakily, "I'm not quite sure how to tell you this, but... Well, it's Fred. He's not well. He blacked out in Transfiguration today. They don't know what's wrong." Her eyes filled with tears, and Harry looked at Hermione, who's face was expressionless. However, he noticed with a smile, her hands were clenched by her sides. Ron was pale, his eyes glazed over. Mira threw herself at Ron, sobbing aloud. "Oh," she said, "I'm so sorry, Ron!" He replied with a mumble of acknowledgement, still staring into space.
****
Ron sat in the waiting room, still unable to go see his brother. He wished one of his friends would come down, but he had told them that Madame Pomfrey probably wouldn't let them in.
He looked up, startled, as Mira came out in a starched white lab coat, carrying two cups of butterbeer. "Hi," she said, softly, and sat in the small chair beside his. She handed him one of the glasses, and smiled. "What," he said, "What are you doing here? I thought they wouldn't allow visitors." She smiled. "Oh, they don't, but I work here. I might be a nurse someday, so I figured I needed the practice. I just got off shift until 11, so I came down here to see how you were." He smiled back, and said, "I'm fine. Thanks for coming. I was hoping someone would."
"Well, your friends were scared practically to death by old Pom Pom, her rattling on about life and death things, and how no one should be in here, but it wasn't her fault that law forced her to let family in, and bla bla bla...." she turned solemn. "Ron, they don't know what's wrong with Fred. He's... well, his vital signs are going haywire, and he's barely breathing." She looked again at Ron, who was shaking his head somewhat dazedly. "I'm sorry." She started crying.
"Hey, there," Ron said, startled out of his daze, "Let's have none of that," and put an arm around her. Slowly, the room began to fade, leaving only the darkness of sleep.
****
Hermione looked up from her textbooks for the hundredth time, unable to concentrate. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Ron, who was still at the hospital ward. "Harry.."
Harry rolled his eyes. "No Hermione, I'm not going down to the hospital ward with you. If you think Ron needs us that badly, then you go down there and hang out with him." Hermione glared at him, then started with "But.." and was cut off by Harry once again. "no, it won't look bad if you go down there even if you are a girl. "Unless," he added, "You have something to hide..."
She glared at him, but he noticed the tinge of red on her cheeks. "That's not what I'm worried about. What if he needs his best friend? He's not going to come up and ask us, he'd rather die than ask for help, you know him!" She glanced at him, and said, "Well, fine. If you won't go, I will."
Setting her books in a neat pile, she stepped through the portrait and ran down the hall. The clock on the wall showed that it was almost 11 o'clock. Surely Madame Pomfrey would let her in now. She came to the Infirmary door and knocked softly. A girl looked out, her brown hair tied back. She straightened her white coat and said, "Come on in."
Hermione stepped in the waiting room and stopped. Ron was sitting with Mira, his arm over her thin shoulder. Her head was rested under his, on his shoulder. Hermione looked at the pair, and a pain tore at her heart. Tears began to gather in her eyes. What's wrong with me? she thought furiously, throwing her hands in front of her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop crying. What, exactly, was she crying about, anyway? Why did she feel so strange?
Perhaps... Perhaps she did love him...
She ran down the hallway, unaware of what she was doing. She fled up thousands of steps, trying to go back. She tried. But she couldn't. Something was pushing her forward, up the old trapdoor she hadn't been to in so long. Her hand, almost as if it weren't her own, picked up a small dagger, which lay in front of the fireplace. The dagger burned her hand as if it were a hot coal. She tried to scream, but no sound came. She was silent, trapped in her mind, no longer in control of her body.
Her feet took her down the long stairs, down so far... She stopped in front of a hallway. From her mouth, but certainly not her mind, came the words, "The blood starts here." Professor McGonagall stepped out of the shadows, saw Hermione with the dagger, and gasped. Hermione saw, and she understood. No. No! She couldn't kill her teacher. That was worse than wrong! She admired this woman, and now whoever had taken her body was going to kill. With her help...
"Professor McGonagall!" she gasped, forcing her voice to come at her will. "Don't come any closer! I--I can't control myself, someone has taken over my body, and now... I think she wants me to kill you." A flash came suddenly to her, and she knew what she had to do.
"Professor? Tell everyone that I love them all. And," she choked on her tears, "Tell Ron... not to come looking for me. Please," she begged. She forced her hands to turn the dagger around, and said quietly, "Goodbye." She drove the silver blade into her stomach.
Professor McGonagall watched her fall. Her long, black robes seemed to catch her as she dropped to the floor. A dark, glittering cloud came from her open mouth and flew away. And behind her, Ron stood.
His face was blank. Void of emotion. He looked down at her, and the realization seemed to come to him. He sunk to his knees, by her side. He picked up her body, ignoring the blood soaking into his clothing. He held her close to him, and he could almost feel her heart beat. Her heart was beating. He knew it. He just couldn't find a pulse.
He hugged her gently, to make sure she didn't break. He stroked her hair, his tears mingling with her blood, and whispered, "It's going to be all right. You just hold on."
D/C: I don't own anything but Mira Gately.
A/N: Sorry I ended it when she died, but if it were any longer, I would die. Darkness, my other fic, ties into this one to explain why Draco gets so ticked.
