The Long and Winding Road - Part Five
Close your eyes, give me your hand, do you feel my heart beating? Do you feel the same, am I only dreaming?
Debbie Gibson, 1988
Hermione
She was attempting to concentrate on her Arithmancy homework, but Draco hand his hands floating lightly on her waist, and for once her mind was not entirely on the matter in hand.
"I've really got to finish this essay," she muttered, not really cross despite herself. Hermione turned to look at Draco, who grinned seductively. "Besides," she tried desperately, "I'm sure you've got a lot of work to do too…"
Draco leant to whisper in her ear. "Loads of it," he said, barely audibly.
Hermione dropped her quill in exasperation, and turned properly in her chair to face him.
"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Draco asked innocently. He practically batted those blonde eyelashes. Hermione sighed heavily, and picked up her quill again. Draco neatly whipped it from her grasp, and started to doodle up her arm, in Flourish and Blott's finest lilac Indian ink.
"Draco!" Hermione shrieked, causing several seventh years to turn their way and snigger. Hermione quickly licked her finger, and rubbed the ink off of her skin.
"Is that how you charm all your girls?" she asked exasperatedly. Draco merely raised one perfect blonde eyebrow in response. He started to play with her hair, plaiting tiny strands, and knotting the ends. Hermione shut her book with a bang.
"Finished," she muttered. "Just. No thanks to you."
"Good!" Draco exclaimed, and encircled her waist with his arms. "Can we have fun now?"
Hermione was just about to reply, when she felt Draco put one of his arms under her thighs. "Hey!" she exclaimed. "Whatcha-?"
Draco laughed, and lifted her right out of the chair, into his arms. Hermione shrieked, and flailed wildly. The gaggle of first years in the corner of the common room burst into unrestrained giggles.
"Pick up your bag," said Draco, and Hermione bent an arm over and grabbed it from the chair.
"Draco!" Hermione hissed from the corner of her mouth, "This is really embarrassing!"
Draco strode to the door effortlessly, as thought Hermione weighed nothing. He turned to the first years as they reached the door.
"Enjoy your homework, ladies!" he called, and blew them a kiss. Hermione and Draco heard the explosion of girlish giggles as they shut the door after them.
Hermione looked up at Draco's face. "You can put me down now, Casanova," she remarked. "You've impressed the little kiddiwinks."
Draco took on a very ostentatious look. "You think so little of me, dear Hermione!" And he carried her up all the stairs to her dorm room.
"Aah!" Hermione shrieked, as Draco dropped her down on her four-poster bed. The dormitory room was fortunately empty. Draco climbed onto the bed himself.
"So," he muttered in his usual seductive way. "How are we feeling today?"
Hermione looked at him shrewdly, a crooked smile on her face. "Your little pornographic ways might work with other girls, Draco darling," she said. "But not with me."
Draco merely smiled graciously. "What a pity," he whispered. Draco suddenly sat up. "Have you told Potter and Weasley, yet?" he asked, a flicker of annoyance passing over his eyes.
"Harry and Ron," Hermione reprimanded.
"Yeah, them."
Hermione sighed, and looked at her lap. "I told Harry today," she said. "During my double free."
"Well? How did he take it?" Draco snapped immediately.
Hermione put her head on one side, and observed Draco shrewdly. "Why all the sudden interest?" she asked suspiciously.
Draco thought for a minute. "I like the way my face looks," he replied cockily.
Hermione grinned, and stroked his hair. She pushed him down onto the soft cotton pillows, and was just leaning in, her eyes closed…
BAM! The door burst open with such force that it whacked right against the wall with a tremendous bang. Hermione's head shot up, and she nearly rolled off the bed. Draco grabbed hold of her robes to stop her falling, and they both sat up, looking towards the doorway in annoyance.
Draco cleared his throat in slight embarrassment. "I'll… see you tomorrow, Hermione," he said, and bolted out of the door. Hermione got stiffly up from the bed, and walked over to the doorway.
"Lavender! What on earth is it?" she cried. A crumbled, bent figure swayed brokenly in the lamplight. Lavender's mascara had run in rivulets down her face, and her eyes were bloodshot and full of tears yet to be spilt.
"Lavender!" Hermione repeated. She gently took the other girl's arm, and led her over to her own bed, where she firmly sat her down on the somewhat rumpled bedclothes. A tear leaked from the corner of Lavender's eye, and she blinked hard, sniffing messily. Hermione reached over to her bedside table, and plucked a tissue from the box. She handed it silently to Lavender, who blew her nose and then scrumpled it into a ball with shaky fingers.
Lavender sniffed hard several times in succession, and breathed raggedly. Hermione sensed that she didn't trust herself to speak yet, for fear of breaking down again. She took Lavender's icy-cold hand in her own, and squeezed it. She had a feeling that whatever it was, it was something connected with Dean.
Lavender took a deep, shuddering sigh, and wiped her eyes. She turned to face Hermione, and opened her mouth, on the verge of saying something. Hermione willed her with her eyes, but Lavender merely became teary again, and rocked backwards and forwards on the bed. She thrust her hand into the pocket of her jeans that she was wearing under her pink robes. Hermione watched her draw out her wand. Lavender finally spoke, in a tiny, hoarse-sounding voice.
"Watch this," she whispered, and, inexplicably, pointed the wand at Hermione's stomach. Hermione stared at Lavender apprehensively as she muttered the words, " Graviditas Experimentum." She did not recognise the charm, which worried her.
Nothing happened for a second, and then suddenly a dark blue, sparkly cloud blossomed into the air, as though it was being sucked out of her belly button. The cloud whirled into a perfect blue orb, and it glittered and spangled. The orb suddenly emitted a single fluting note, like that from a panpipe. "Nihil," sang a voice, seemingly from inside the orb.
"Nothing," Hermione muttered; she had a basic knowledge of Latin. "Lavender - what in the world was that?"
Lavender had stopped crying; she merely looked resigned to some terrible fate. She did not reply, and pointed her wand at her own stomach instead. Hermione suddenly had a fleeting, terrible thought. She brushed it away. Surely not, surely even Lavender wouldn't be so stupid…
"Graviditas Experimentum," said Lavender. There was a moment's pause, and then, as before, a sparkling Prussian blue ball of light formed between them. But then, gradually, it started to change. The blue began to merge into pinkish-gold light, and the orb radiated heat like the warmth of the sun. A scale of panpipe notes burst forth, much louder than the single note that Hermione's orb had produced. Hermione suddenly peered forward, she thought she could see something forming in the sphere of misty light. A tiny form was encased in the pink sheen. She could not make out what it was. Then, the orb sang. This time, it did not say Nihil.
"Infans!" chirped the voice, in a warm, happy tone.
"Oh my God," said Hermione, staring in horror at Lavender. "You're… you're pregnant!"
Lavender broke down again. "Her-mioneee," she wailed. "I don't know what to do!"
Hermione rubbed her eyes with her hands, feeling very tired. "Lavender," she said, struggling not to throttle the girl. "How the hell did you let this happen? Didn't you… weren't you…?"
"Using protection?" finished Lavender for her. She let out a shuddering sigh, and splodged at her mascara-streaked cheeks with a tissue. "We were both drunk; I hardly remember what it was like. I was hardly in a fit state to think clearly; to think of the getting the condoms from my bag…" She wept a little, sniffing quietly.
"Was this the night of the party?" Hermione interjected suddenly, looking suspicious. Lavender looked up at her, then back down at her lap. She nodded quickly.
"Not in our dorm?" Hermione said, restraining her automatic feeling of disgust. "While the rest of us were sleeping?"
Lavender laughed suddenly. "You've never had sex, have you Hermione?"
"You say it like it's a bad thing, Lavender," came the muttered reply. "And look where having sex has got you."
"No. I meant… Oh, never mind. Believe me, we would have woken you up, if it had been in our dorm room." Hermione suppressed a shudder at these words.
"So where was it then?"
Lavender looked pensive for a moment. "In the Gryffindor common room… I think."
Hermione sighed deeply. "You can't even remember properly?" she muttered rhetorically. "That's pathetic, Lavender."
"I know." Lavender stood up, and walked over to the washbasin in the corner of the room. Scrubbing at her cheeks with a flannel, she added, "I never would have chosen for it to be this way."
"What girl would?" asked Hermione, turning away.
*
"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed. "For the hundredth time, I'm not going to tell you! It's private, and it's Lavender's business!"
"Ah, go on, Hermione," Draco wheedled, most unlike himself. "I bet it's really juicy gossip!"
"Not for your ears, though," she said, smirking. "I never you were such a grapeviner, Draco." Hermione pulled him down onto the bed. "Now," she breathed. "Where were we?"
There came a knock at the door. Draco fell back onto the pillows in frustration. "Tell the stupid girl to go and angst with some other friend," he snapped. "If I can't know, then I don't want to have to be interrupted again."
Hermione shook her head, and walked towards the door. "Professor McGonagall!" she exclaimed, as she opened the door, her mouth falling open in surprise. "I- we… Draco came to um… Get some help with his Potions homework. Yes." She said all of this very fast, and McGonagall peered at her over her silver-framed glasses.
"Be that as it may, Hermione," she said, giving both of them a very skeptical look, "I hardly need remind you of the unwritten rule at all boarding schools. Boys do not visit the girl's dormitories, and vice versa, naturally. It looks as though you great deal of work done." she said, her sharp eyes noting Hermione's bruised lips, the rumpled sheets on the bed, and Draco Malfoy's equally ruffled hair. Hermione blushed, but she could almost have sworn she saw the Professor turn her head away slightly to hide a smile.
The Professor recovered her composure. "I am here to break some bad news, Hermione," she said. "I know of your great friendship with Ron Weasley. I'm afraid that today he ran away from the school, and attempted to drown himself at the coast near here."
"What!" Hermione squeaked. "Is he alright? Where is he? Why the hell did he do that?"
Professor McGonagall ignored the slang. "I honestly don't know why he did it, Hermione. If you'd like to follow me to the hospital wing…"
Hermione suddenly heard McGonagall's words become terribly loud in her ears, which buzzed angrily. She felt her eyes go very wide and swimmy, and a huge force started thumping in her brain. She felt very unstable, and put out a hand to stop herself falling. Professor McGonagall watched in shock as Hermione wavered like a dandelion clock in a summer breeze, and then fell to a crumpled heap at her feet.
*
Pale, pastel colours swarm and merged together in front of Hermione's softly fluttering eyelids. Everything was a mass of white, with small, shimmering coloured blobs bobbing up and down. She could hear tiny muffled chinks like metal being tapped against glass. The vision swam into focus. Madam Pomfrey had her back to Hermione. She was busily mixing together a bright red concoction in a little glass vial. Professor McGonagall was sitting stiffly in one of the visitor chairs at the edge of the room. She suddenly stood up, and walked across the room, glancing at Hermione as she did so. Hermione quickly shut her eyes, and opened them a crack when she heard the footsteps pass.
"So what do you think caused her to pass out, Poppy?" she heard McGonagall ask Madam Pomfrey. "Was it just shock?"
"That's what I want to find out," said the school nurse, sounding grim. "This is a Revealing Potion I'm just whipping up here, it should tell me what, if anything, is wrong with her. Hermione is a level-headed person. She's not one of the shrieky, hysterical girls. It just doesn't seem right that she would faint at the drop of a hat, like that."
Madam Pomfrey added a spoonful of what looked like whipped cream, and poured the steaming contents into a glass beaker. "We'll just have to see, I suppose," she added.
"And how is Weasley?" McGonagall asked, glancing towards Ron's bed at the end of the ward.
Madam Pomfrey looked happier at this question. "He's swallowed a lot of sea water, but that should all pass through his system, no problem. I've done a tricky little charm to sea if he has any brain damage, and that came back as negative. Just thank the great wizards that he was discovered when he was. All he needs now is to sleep it off. It could have been a lot worse."
"We'll have to get to the bottom of why he did it, of course," said McGonagall.
"Naturally. But let him get better first." She walked over to Hermione's bed, the professor following behind her. "Come now, Hermione, I want you to drink this," she said, brandishing the beaker.
Hermione kept her eyes shut, pretending to be still asleep.
"Hermione. Open your eyes," said Madam Pomfrey sternly. Hermione unwillingly did so. The nurse's eyes were twinkling. "Twenty five years of experience mean I can always tell if someone is really asleep, Hermione," she said, grinning. Hermione grinned weakly back, and accepted the beaker. Madam Pomfrey had stirred in the whipped cream, and it tasted lovely; a thick, sugary, fluffy pink drink that was strangely reminiscent of strawberries. Nothing happened for a minute or two. Then Hermione started to feel exceedingly strange. An odd, tingly warm feeling started to spread out inside her body, from a starting point of her stomach. She shivered as it travelled down her legs and arms, the feeling even penetrating her finger tips and toes. She felt it swell in her skull, and she felt very light-headed again, as though she was able to fly.
Hermione suddenly noticed with shock that her body was radiating green-gold light from every part. She looked to Madam Pomfrey, who was nodding satisfactorily.
"As I thought," she muttered to herself, and was just about to turn away, when the light suddenly took on a red tinge. Madam Pomfrey spun back, looking at it aghast. The light turned back to green, then red again, then green one more, as if it couldn't make up its mind. Professor McGonagall looked from Hermione to Madam Pomfrey and back again, frowning worriedly.
"Poppy," she hissed. "What in the world…?"
Madam Pomfrey continued to stare hard at the light for a few more moments. Then she seemed to recover herself, and she pulled out her wand from her pocket.
"Finite incantatem," she muttered, and the light vanished. Hermione struggled up on her pillows, staring hard. "Madam Pomfrey," she started, "what…?" She trailed off as the nurse strode across the room to her bookshelf at the other end of the hospital. She ran an expert finger across the leather tomes, and quickly pulled down a book bound in silver silk. Madam Pomfrey motioned for McGonagall to come over, and she drew a curtain around them both, obscuring them from Hermione's vision.
*
Hermione was slipping in and out of sleep. It was late at night, and she felt even more exhausted than she had done for the past few weeks. She could hear Ron's snores a few beds down from her, although she could not see him. Hermione felt frightened and alone. She hadn't heard anything more from the teachers for hours…
Finally, Hermione gave in the struggle, and shut her eyes. She turned over, and went straight to sleep. A few minutes later, Madam Pomfrey walked quietly over to her bed, with Professor McGonagall.
"Are you going to tell me what the spell did, or not, Poppy?" McGonagall hissed in her ear. Madam Pomfrey sighed audibly, and turned to face her.
"The Revealing potion shows if the patient is really ill or not - it's very useful for those simply trying to skip lessons. It also highlights the area of the body that is affected; for instance if a pupil had a broken ankle, their body would radiate red light from the base of the leg, and green light everywhere else. If a patient was suffering from heart disease, then the red light would be shown from the left side of the chest. It's a very useful diagnostic method."
"But Hermione was showing green light, then red, the green again and so on; all over her body. How can the whole of her body be affected by an illness?"
"This is what I want to find out," said Madam Pomfrey grimly. "It is something I have never seen in all my years of experience. As for the changing of the colour, I do know what that means. I have seen it a few times before. It means that the patient has a Muggle disease, one that does not affect pure-blood witches and wizards."
"So… because Hermione is a Muggle-born, she's susceptible?" asked McGonagall, polishing her glasses on her sleeve. "What could it be?"
Madam Pomfrey did not answer this question; instead she laid the silver-bound book down on the seat next to Hermione's bed. She pulled out her wand, and pointed it at the already-sleeping Hermione.
"Dormire," she said quietly, and a thin line of silver-white light shot from the end of the wand. Madam Pomfrey circled in the wand in an arc, drawing a silver line completely around Hermione's body. "Just in case," she muttered, more to herself than Professor McGonagall.
Madam Pomfrey sat down on the bed beside the sleeping form, and carefully rolled up the sleeves of Hermione's robe and jumper. All along the inside of both of her arms were chains of bruises, in varying colours, from rich purpley-blacks to anaemic greens and yellows.
"Good God!" McGonagall exclaimed, horror-struck. "Someone's been beating the child!"
Madam Pomfrey simply shook her head. She picked up the heavy silver book, and flicked through it quickly, her fingers shaking a little.
"Oh, merciful Mother" she said suddenly, tracing her finger along the thick, black text. "As I thought…"
*
Draco
Draco knocked slightly apprehensively on the door. He really didn't want to have to do this, but he could think of no other course of action right now. He heard galloping feet, and the door was flung open. A very stressed looking Harry stood in the doorway. Draco looked down his nose at him.
"Malfoy! What the f-"
"Now, now," Draco interjected. "I'm sure your mother wouldn't like to hear you using language like that. It would make her turn in her grave, if I'm not greatly mistaken."
"Shut up!" Harry shouted angrily. "Don't you dare say a word about her! What the hell do you want, anyway?"
Draco barged past him, into the dorm room. He laughed. "Nice," he said. "But not as nice as the Slytherin dorms." He smirked infuriatingly, carefully concealing his own worries. He went and sat down on Ron's neatly made bed, and bounced up and down a few times to make it messy again. Neville, Dean and Seamus were sitting in the corner of the room, playing a half-hearted game of Gobstones. They had stopped when Draco came in, and he noticed that they were all staring at him with contempt.
"Just tell us what you want, then out," said Seamus forcefully. Draco flashed him a dazzling white smile, and reclined back on the bed. Be nice, he told himself. I know it's hard, but this is important. He cleared his throat.
"Um… Harry," he said. Harry's head jerked round to look at him, as though he'd been shot.
"What?" he said, looking very distrustful. Draco scratched his head, feeling like a scientist about to destroy his life's work.
"Hermione's in the hospital wing, Harry," he said quietly. Harry jumped up from his seat, the blood draining from his face.
"What?" he repeated. "Why? What the hell have you done to her?"
Draco felt almost scared at this outburst. "Nothing!" he shouted defensively. "McGonagall came to tell her about Ron, and she fainted when she heard the news."
Harry sank back slowly onto his bed, his white face propped in his hands. "Hermione isn't the type to faint," he said slowly.
"I know," said Draco. "And that was more than an hour ago. I can't understand what's taking so long up there in the hospital wing." He rubbed his hand worriedly over his eyes.
"Jesus Christ," Harry muttered. He stood up again, and paced the room. "When are they bloody well going to let me see Ron?" he said. "Perhaps… perhaps I should go up there."
"No, Harry," said Dean quickly, getting to his feet quickly. "They'll come as soon as they possibly can, Harry. Professor McGonagall said it was important for Madam Pomfrey to be on her own with Ron, to give him the best chance possible - no distractions. She knows what she's talking about."
Harry nodded slowly, and sank to the floor, twisting his fingers into knots. Draco got off the bed, and came quietly across to where the other boys were sitting. He felt a lump in his throat.
"I, er… I don't know how to say… to put… Harry. I'm going out with Hermione, as you know. And… I know that we've always been enemies, different sides of the line, as it were, and nothing's ever really going to change that, I'm not that naïve. But… I would like it if we were at least civil towards each other. I… really care about Hermione. I don't want petty squabbling to get in the way of that."
Draco watched as Harry looked him very hard in the eye, sizing up how genuine he was being. Seemingly satisfied, he suddenly put out his hand. Draco shook it, slightly surprised. Feeling emboldened by this, he decided to go a step further.
"I don't know what's been going between you and Ron recently, and don't bother telling me that it's nothing, because it's quite plainly obvious that's not true. But what ever it is, get it sorted out, Harry. Life's too short."
Harry regarded him from his bright green eyes for what seemed like hours. He muttered something very quickly and quietly, almost hoping that Draco would not hear it. But Draco caught the words, and smiled. "No problem," he said.
A knock came at the door, and Harry sprang to his feet. He flew to the door, and opened it.
"Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "You may see Mr. Weasley now." Her eyes strayed to the other boys, and seemed to jump when she noticed Draco. He got to his feet.
"Professor," he said, walking towards her. "May I, may I see Hermione, too?"
Professor McGonagall shrewdly looked him up and down. "If you want to," she said.
Harry and Draco galloped up the stairs in the wake of the foreboding teacher. Draco wasn't sure, but he thought he had seen a flicker of something in the Professor's eyes that he couldn't quite read. He climbed the last flight with trepidation. The three walked quietly into the horribly clinical hospital wing. Harry ran across to Ron's bedside, who was sleeping silently. Harry turned around to look for the nurse, who was bustling over.
"Don't you dare wake him up, Potter," she said sternly.
"Madam Pomfrey," said Harry quickly, sounding out of breath. "How is he? Does he have any brain damage, anything wrong with him?"
Madam Pomfrey smiled maternally down at Harry, his glasses askew, his eyes wide with fear. "No, Harry," she said kindly. "He's had a lucky escape. Ron will be fine: physically. But we will be getting to the bottom of why he felt so desperate, that he wanted to end it all. We will be questioning you and several of the other Gryffindors in due course."
"Fine, fine," said Harry, barely hearing. Draco watched from the other side of the hospital, seeing Harry lean over Ron, to whisper some words to him. He had a feeling they'd be sorting out their problem, whatever it was, in due course.
He turned to Madam Pomfrey as she bustled back down the room. "Madam Pomfrey?" he said, stepping in front of her. "Can I see Hermione?"
The school nurse smiled and him; although it was almost a sad smile. "Of course you can, Draco," she said. She glanced at him, and winked. "I heard all about your Quidditch shed escapades from Madam Hooch!"
Draco blushed, and looked at his shoes. "Huh… um… yes," he stuttered.
"Follow me," she said, and led Draco over to a cubicle at the end of the room. The curtains were drawn around Hermione's bed, and she quietly drew them back. "I've given Hermione a sleeping charm," she said. "But please be quiet anyway."
Draco slowly sat down in the chair by the bed. "Do you know what's wrong with her?" he asked. "Why she fainted?"
Madam Pomfrey sighed, and drew another chair up to join Draco. She took his hand. "Draco," she said. "I suspect that Hermione, who as you know is a Muggle-born, has a disease, one that only affects Muggle humans. She is susceptible to it because of her ancestry."
"What is it?" Draco interjected rudely.
"It's called Leukaemia. A disease of the blood. It's a kind of cancer."
"What? All she did was faint! How the hell can she have cancer?"
As explanation, Madam Pomfrey carefully rolled up the sleeves of Hermione's robes. Draco peered at the bruises.
"Bloody hell," he said under his breath. "It looks like someone's been beating her up."
When Madam Pomfrey left them, Draco lent over Hermione's peaceful body, and kissed her hair. "Hermione," he said, sounding close to tears. "Please don't die." And there, in the hospital wing, Draco Malfoy laid his head down on Hermione's bed, and wept for her, for himself, and for the loss of innocence, as he had not done since he was a little boy.
To be continued…
