Chapter Five: Immobile
Ron lay awake that night, tossing and turning in his bed. He knew he had no chance with Hermione. How could he with Harry around? A knot of anger formed in his stomach at the thought of Harry. Harry, who was more famous than Ron, smarter than Ron, better looking than Ron. It made Ron sick. If only he'd said something first about Hermione, maybe there would be hope. Ron shook his head at his own stupidity. 'As if,' he thought.
Harry lay awake that night too, trying to decide how Hermione felt about him and Ron. Did she know how he felt about her? Did she love someone else? Did she love Ron? Harry prayed from the bottom of his heart that Hermione wouldn't choose Ron over him; then immediately felt guilty for wishing it. Who was he to decide his friends' happiness? Harry curled into a tight ball, trying to close his mind against all the confusing thoughts in his head.
Meanwhile Hermione lay in a deep yet troubled sleep. She frowned and grumbled in her sleep, visions of women in white running through her head.
The next day was cold. Little sun was breaking through the dense grey cloud; the sky threatened rain. 'Perfect for my mood,' thought Ron. He fleetingly wondered if he had the power to control the weather just by his mood, but, deciding that it wasn't possible, satisfied himself with imagining what would happen if he could control the weather. He'd make the sun shine happily on Hermione, and would soak Harry with frequent rain showers. He chuckled to himself at the thought.
'What are you laughing about?' Hermione asked. She had been talking about their charms homework and her curiosity was piqued as to what was so funny about sobering charms. Ron quickly wiped the smile off of his face.
'Nothing. Don't worry about it.' Hermione raised her eyebrow slightly but let it pass.
'So anyway,' Hermione continued, 'the effects of sobering charms are becoming sober after being drunk or in especially high spirits and were invented in.'
A few days later the school was happily ensconced in preparation for Halloween. The school was decorated with drifts of orange and black; the ghosts were practising stunning aerial displays; jack o' lanterns and candles lined the corridors.
Harry smiled, enjoying the atmosphere of Halloween at Hogwarts. Halloweens at the Dursleys had always involved Dudley getting dressed in the coolest and most expensive costumes and going trick or treating, and Harry following glumly behind, dressed in an old sheet with holes cut in it for eyes. All the Halloweens at Hogwarts had been good to an extent; but Harry was aiming to make this one the best ever. On Halloween night, after the feast, he was going to tell Hermione exactly how he felt about her, and he was praying that she felt the same way.
Hermione walked beside him and looked around with wonder. After all these years at Hogwarts, she was still amazed by the lengths that the staff and students went to for Halloween and Christmas. Suddenly her breath caught in her throat; black dots floated in her vision; she felt faint. She tried to call out but the sound died before it reached her lips. Then everything went black.
As Hermione began to fall the boys caught her and laid her down gently. Harry was grateful for the fact that he and Ron had gotten into the habit of walking on each side of Hermione so that she couldn't get hurt.
"Your body numb, your mind goes black,
You force yourself to beat death back,
Although you know you cannot win,
You fight the darkness creeping in."
Hermione didn't open her eyes for quite a while after the song. She lay still on the floor, and Ron thought that she looked like a delicate child, sleeping peacefully. Suddenly she flailed out an arm, striking the stone floor; reopening an old wound on the inside of her wrist.
'Bloody hell,' Ron said softly, staring at the cut. 'Why didn't we notice that before?' Harry looked stricken.
'This can't be what we think,' he said, more to himself than to Ron. 'There must be a mistake. She wouldn't try to kill herself, would she?' There was something pleading in his voice that stabbed at Ron's heart. Harry really did love her. Ron turned over the wrist nearest to him. An identical cut ran across the veins. He shook his head, praying it wasn't true. But how could he deny it? The evidence was all there. As Harry held Hermione's bleeding wrist in his hand, he noticed the strange colouring of the blood. The scarlet blood had black streaks in it.
'Ron,' Harry said urgently, turning the wrist towards Ron.
'Bloody hell,' he whispered again. 'Something is very wrong. We have to get her to the infirmary.'
'No.' The boys looked up in surprise. They hadn't realised that Hermione had woken up.
'Herm? Are you ok?'
'Yes, I'm fine,' she said stonily, although she didn't sound fine. 'There's absolutely no need for me to go to the infirmary.'
'But, Hermione, your arms.' Ron trailed off helplessly.
'I'm fine,' she said defiantly. She turned to look at her wrist and paled a little at the sight of the blood mingled with.well she didn't know what was mixed into her blood but she sure as hell knew that it shouldn't be there. But still, she couldn't go to the infirmary, no matter what her friends said. Madame Pomfrey would see the cuts on her arms, and then there would be questions; questions that Hermione wasn't ready to answer. 'Please,' she said, her voice breaking a little. 'I'm not ready yet.' She could see Harry and Ron softening, their eyes showing sympathy and a will to do whatever she wanted. She smiled internally, pleased with their easy manipulation. 'Come on,' she said, smiling weakly, 'let's get to our next lesson. I'll be fine in a minute.' Ron and Harry looked doubtful but helped her to her feet. She frowned at her wrist and pulled out her wand. 'Sangarretus,' she muttered. The bleeding abruptly stopped, leaving trails of black-streaked blood sliding slowly down her arm. She rubbed her arm on the sleeve of her robes, then offered her arms to the two puzzled and concerned boys on either side of her. Ron lifted her bag and took her arm, and the two boys escorted her to Charms.
~*~
So, yeah. What do you think? please R&R me! Much love to my people:
Autumn- you rock, and ff.net sucks for taking down undying hope.
Nebride- please add more to Behind Closed Hearts. You owe it to your reader people.
I'm sorry but right now I can't remember if anyone else reviewed! Your name will come up next chapter- promise!
By the way, Hermione's spell to stop the bleeding, 'Sangarretus', is a mix of the French word for blood, Sang, and the French word for stop, Arrete. I know their spells are usually a kind of Latin, but I don't have a Latin dictionary! Sorry! ( you guys don't mind, right? You do? Well then review!
Ron lay awake that night, tossing and turning in his bed. He knew he had no chance with Hermione. How could he with Harry around? A knot of anger formed in his stomach at the thought of Harry. Harry, who was more famous than Ron, smarter than Ron, better looking than Ron. It made Ron sick. If only he'd said something first about Hermione, maybe there would be hope. Ron shook his head at his own stupidity. 'As if,' he thought.
Harry lay awake that night too, trying to decide how Hermione felt about him and Ron. Did she know how he felt about her? Did she love someone else? Did she love Ron? Harry prayed from the bottom of his heart that Hermione wouldn't choose Ron over him; then immediately felt guilty for wishing it. Who was he to decide his friends' happiness? Harry curled into a tight ball, trying to close his mind against all the confusing thoughts in his head.
Meanwhile Hermione lay in a deep yet troubled sleep. She frowned and grumbled in her sleep, visions of women in white running through her head.
The next day was cold. Little sun was breaking through the dense grey cloud; the sky threatened rain. 'Perfect for my mood,' thought Ron. He fleetingly wondered if he had the power to control the weather just by his mood, but, deciding that it wasn't possible, satisfied himself with imagining what would happen if he could control the weather. He'd make the sun shine happily on Hermione, and would soak Harry with frequent rain showers. He chuckled to himself at the thought.
'What are you laughing about?' Hermione asked. She had been talking about their charms homework and her curiosity was piqued as to what was so funny about sobering charms. Ron quickly wiped the smile off of his face.
'Nothing. Don't worry about it.' Hermione raised her eyebrow slightly but let it pass.
'So anyway,' Hermione continued, 'the effects of sobering charms are becoming sober after being drunk or in especially high spirits and were invented in.'
A few days later the school was happily ensconced in preparation for Halloween. The school was decorated with drifts of orange and black; the ghosts were practising stunning aerial displays; jack o' lanterns and candles lined the corridors.
Harry smiled, enjoying the atmosphere of Halloween at Hogwarts. Halloweens at the Dursleys had always involved Dudley getting dressed in the coolest and most expensive costumes and going trick or treating, and Harry following glumly behind, dressed in an old sheet with holes cut in it for eyes. All the Halloweens at Hogwarts had been good to an extent; but Harry was aiming to make this one the best ever. On Halloween night, after the feast, he was going to tell Hermione exactly how he felt about her, and he was praying that she felt the same way.
Hermione walked beside him and looked around with wonder. After all these years at Hogwarts, she was still amazed by the lengths that the staff and students went to for Halloween and Christmas. Suddenly her breath caught in her throat; black dots floated in her vision; she felt faint. She tried to call out but the sound died before it reached her lips. Then everything went black.
As Hermione began to fall the boys caught her and laid her down gently. Harry was grateful for the fact that he and Ron had gotten into the habit of walking on each side of Hermione so that she couldn't get hurt.
"Your body numb, your mind goes black,
You force yourself to beat death back,
Although you know you cannot win,
You fight the darkness creeping in."
Hermione didn't open her eyes for quite a while after the song. She lay still on the floor, and Ron thought that she looked like a delicate child, sleeping peacefully. Suddenly she flailed out an arm, striking the stone floor; reopening an old wound on the inside of her wrist.
'Bloody hell,' Ron said softly, staring at the cut. 'Why didn't we notice that before?' Harry looked stricken.
'This can't be what we think,' he said, more to himself than to Ron. 'There must be a mistake. She wouldn't try to kill herself, would she?' There was something pleading in his voice that stabbed at Ron's heart. Harry really did love her. Ron turned over the wrist nearest to him. An identical cut ran across the veins. He shook his head, praying it wasn't true. But how could he deny it? The evidence was all there. As Harry held Hermione's bleeding wrist in his hand, he noticed the strange colouring of the blood. The scarlet blood had black streaks in it.
'Ron,' Harry said urgently, turning the wrist towards Ron.
'Bloody hell,' he whispered again. 'Something is very wrong. We have to get her to the infirmary.'
'No.' The boys looked up in surprise. They hadn't realised that Hermione had woken up.
'Herm? Are you ok?'
'Yes, I'm fine,' she said stonily, although she didn't sound fine. 'There's absolutely no need for me to go to the infirmary.'
'But, Hermione, your arms.' Ron trailed off helplessly.
'I'm fine,' she said defiantly. She turned to look at her wrist and paled a little at the sight of the blood mingled with.well she didn't know what was mixed into her blood but she sure as hell knew that it shouldn't be there. But still, she couldn't go to the infirmary, no matter what her friends said. Madame Pomfrey would see the cuts on her arms, and then there would be questions; questions that Hermione wasn't ready to answer. 'Please,' she said, her voice breaking a little. 'I'm not ready yet.' She could see Harry and Ron softening, their eyes showing sympathy and a will to do whatever she wanted. She smiled internally, pleased with their easy manipulation. 'Come on,' she said, smiling weakly, 'let's get to our next lesson. I'll be fine in a minute.' Ron and Harry looked doubtful but helped her to her feet. She frowned at her wrist and pulled out her wand. 'Sangarretus,' she muttered. The bleeding abruptly stopped, leaving trails of black-streaked blood sliding slowly down her arm. She rubbed her arm on the sleeve of her robes, then offered her arms to the two puzzled and concerned boys on either side of her. Ron lifted her bag and took her arm, and the two boys escorted her to Charms.
~*~
So, yeah. What do you think? please R&R me! Much love to my people:
Autumn- you rock, and ff.net sucks for taking down undying hope.
Nebride- please add more to Behind Closed Hearts. You owe it to your reader people.
I'm sorry but right now I can't remember if anyone else reviewed! Your name will come up next chapter- promise!
By the way, Hermione's spell to stop the bleeding, 'Sangarretus', is a mix of the French word for blood, Sang, and the French word for stop, Arrete. I know their spells are usually a kind of Latin, but I don't have a Latin dictionary! Sorry! ( you guys don't mind, right? You do? Well then review!
