3. More To Come
"How are you today? Any better? You look pale, you know. But then again, you avoid the sun on purpose. And yes, I do think that it suits you best, being all pale and sallow. Did I ever tell you ...?" Hermione sat in the magically enlarged infirmary. Before her lay the unresponsive figure of her not-so-secret-anymore boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. Hermione went on, talking softly.
The hospital room was now more a hall even bigger than the Great Hall, occupying hundreds of sickbeds. Self-proclaimed nurses and doctors tried everything in their power to rescue all the lives still in danger. The sound was deafening. Moaning and groaning of injured, working provisory doctors and crying friends. Now and then there could be heard a screamed "NO!" when one didn't make it over the worst.
Indeed, Hermione was one of the very few people talking quietly to their dear ones. She seemed oblivious to her surrounding, as she sat calmly. It was, as if there weren't numerous classmates and teachers dying all around her.
"It's time for lunch, love," she spoke, smiling slightly. "I need to go, I already skipped breakfast and dinner yesterday, as you know. See you later." With that, Hermione rose from her seat and leaned over the bed to kiss her boyfriend goodbye. Little did she know, that she actually did so.
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Lunch was differently at Hogwarts, as it was since the day Voldemort died. The meal itself was plain. The house-elves' duties were shifted to other tasks such as running errands for the hospital wing.
Compared to how crowded the Great Hall was in general over the year, it now seemed pretty deserted. Very few students attended the meals at a regular basis, because it wasn't prescribed anymore. Headmaster Dumbledore had seen to that. Within ten days the wards would be finally down and life would resume its usual course.
Many pupils wanted to stay by their hurt friends or help in the infirmary. Many pupils wanted to be alone, to deal with their pain as they saw fit. And many pupils just didn't want to be in company of someone else and be confronted with those who survived.
But even if all the students would come down to the meals, they couldn't fill in the gaps. Gryffindor had lost the most; not that this had been a surprise. Closely followed by Slytherin (Even in that situation the rivalry was unbroken). A few students of this house had went over to the Dark Side. It came as a bigger surprise to the majority, though, that Draco had not been one of them. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw lost only a few - though, still too many.
Snape ate his lunch in silence. In fact, there was not much conversation going on amongst neither teachers nor students. The whole hall seemed depressed, and given the circumstances, it was comprehensible. Concentrating on how to go on in making his special potion, Snape let his mind wander. He was more than pleased that tiny professor Flitwick succeeded in creating a charm that helped him a lot in potion-making. Without that charm he wouldn't be able to use even one minute of his time for research, he would have to brew potions non-stop for the hospital wing. With the help of Flitwick's charm, Snape was able to let the cauldrons work on their own - without supervision. True, Snape would never have willingly agreed to this help - had he been conscious at the time, that was.
Stopping his little reverie, Snape returned to the more urgent matters. He had already sifted through his whole library and parts of the school collection, finding hints as to what he'd need to brew his potion. Inventing a new potion was always utterly thrilling, especially for one Severus Snape.
'Harry Potter' A gentle voice whispered suddenly into his ear. Looking up, Snape quickly surveyed the Great Hall with a blank expression on his face, coming to rest on the Boy-Who-Lived, who was currently talking to those know-it-all and redhead friends of his. 'What are you plotting, you insufferable brat?' Snape asked himself silently. 'Haven't got enough fame and glory? Can't wait until the world is back to normal that your victory is blown out for everyone to hear?'
As if sensing someone's eyes upon himself, Harry's head shot up and his eyes met with Snape's. Green locked with black and the glaring contest began. Snape noticed that both Granger and Weasley were now talking to Potter, casting quick glances in his direction; but that didn't disturb him. Lifting his left brow, Snape allowed himself a small smirk. The Potions Master was definitely nobody to be messed with.
Angrily, Harry set his jaw and brought his attention back to his plate.
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Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way towards the medical wing to visit their injured friends. The hallways were empty and somehow this made their little journey the more depressing.
"Are you okay, Ron?" Hermione dared to ask. She hadn't seen him for days, after all, and at lunch he'd acted as if nothing had happened. She feared for her friend, feared for his mental state. A trauma - she knew from one of her smart books - was nothing to take lightly.
Sighing, Ron shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it." Avoiding both of his friends' questioning gazes, he picked up his pace and strode along the corridor.
"You can't run away forever, you know."
"Oh, but I can and I already do," Ron murmured.
Harry reached out with a comforting hand, but his friend brushed him off.
"It's okay, Harry, Mione, really. I admit it was hard at first, but now I've come to terms with what happened. There's nothing to worry about for you. I'm fine."
But Hermione wasn't convinced that easily. "You are not fine. A blind could see that. If you keep on locking away your emotions, it will kill you slowly from the inside. We all lost people we like and ..." she trailed off, thoughts of Draco lying in his own blood flashing through her mind. Quickly she stored them away. "We are here for you, Harry," she cast a quick glance towards the said boy, who nodded in return, "and me, no matter what. We may have our own things going on but your problems are our problems as well. You are our best friend and Ginny ... was as much ... my sister ..."
"I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!!"
Hermione flinched violently at this outburst and Harry hurriedly assured their friend, that they would leave him be - for the time being.
A few minutes later, the three friends arrived at the hospital wing and entered mutely. While Ron made his way towards the cabinet to offer his help and Hermione made a beeline in the direction where most likely her boyfriend was, Harry stood frozen to the spot, still in the doorway. He'd almost forgotten how bad it had been. In this medical chamber were definitely more people than a few minutes ago in the Great Hall. Harry watched as classmates comforted students from other houses (as they couldn't watch their own housemates suffer), working around their own grief. Just as Ron. The redhead was currently applying a new bandage to Pansy Parkinson's shoulder. Who would have guessed? So near her neck and he didn't even try to throttle her.
Harry was still lost in thoughts as screaming voices reached his ear. Searching for the source, he saw Hermione, flailing and crying hysterically in the arms of one 5th year student, who tried in vain to comfort her.
"No ..."
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Severus stalked towards the headmaster and unceremoniously plopped down into a chair. "You wanted to speak with me?" he asked, after declining both tea and lemon drops.
"How is the research for you memory potion progressing?"
Severus stayed a few moments silent, wondering how on earth Albus was able to live up to his name. Sometimes he asked himself why Albus had needed a spy in the first place, as he knew everything going on, anyhow. "Excellent."
Albus sighed wearily and folded his hands on the desk. "I can understand and I agree with you that claiming back what was lost, is highly important for you. But I have to ask you to hurry. The stocks of potion ingredients for the medical wing are drawing to a close and we will need every man to ensure ... that every student is going to live ..."
Severus nodded curtly and rose from his seat. "It shouldn't take me more than sixteen hours. Headmaster." With that, he was gone, leaving behind a very old looking Albus Dumbledore.
"Severus ..."
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"W-why is it so dark?" The voice was nothing more than a frightened whisper, barely audible. A small figure sat in complete darkness in a rather old looking but comfortable armchair, shivering slightly. "Where ... am I? Mom? Dad?" she asked warily, squinting her eyes and looking from side to side. Unfortunately, she couldn't make out anything but black. Tucking her feet underneath her, she braced herself and rocked gently, trying to soothe her nerves, which were currently on over-drive.
She couldn't remember what had happened. She didn't know how she'd ended up in this weird room, all alone. She could be anywhere, for all she knew. All she could recall, was being at Hogwarts and on her way towards the transfigurations class and then there was an attack by Voldemort and his fellow Death Eaters ... Everything else was nothing more than a blurry vision, which refused to be specified.
A sudden spark of light shot threw the room and illuminated it for mere seconds. Red hair flashed for one heartbeat, as Ginny turned her head, intent on finding out where the source had been, but not daring to leave the sanctuary of her seemingly safe chair. "Hello? ... Who's there?" she called louder, then clamped her mouth shut suddenly. Maybe she didn't want to know. But now it was too late, anyway. Waiting with dreadful anticipation, Ginny surveyed her surroundings as good as she could, making as few sounds as possible.
The light returned, causing Ginny to shadow her eyes in order to see anything. The room, she was in, looked faintly familiar. She must have been there, once, a while ago for sure. Raising her head, she gasped surprised.
"Fred? George?"
-
A/N: 'Albus' means translated into German 'weiß' and that means both 'white' and (he) 'knows'.
"How are you today? Any better? You look pale, you know. But then again, you avoid the sun on purpose. And yes, I do think that it suits you best, being all pale and sallow. Did I ever tell you ...?" Hermione sat in the magically enlarged infirmary. Before her lay the unresponsive figure of her not-so-secret-anymore boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. Hermione went on, talking softly.
The hospital room was now more a hall even bigger than the Great Hall, occupying hundreds of sickbeds. Self-proclaimed nurses and doctors tried everything in their power to rescue all the lives still in danger. The sound was deafening. Moaning and groaning of injured, working provisory doctors and crying friends. Now and then there could be heard a screamed "NO!" when one didn't make it over the worst.
Indeed, Hermione was one of the very few people talking quietly to their dear ones. She seemed oblivious to her surrounding, as she sat calmly. It was, as if there weren't numerous classmates and teachers dying all around her.
"It's time for lunch, love," she spoke, smiling slightly. "I need to go, I already skipped breakfast and dinner yesterday, as you know. See you later." With that, Hermione rose from her seat and leaned over the bed to kiss her boyfriend goodbye. Little did she know, that she actually did so.
-+-+-+-
Lunch was differently at Hogwarts, as it was since the day Voldemort died. The meal itself was plain. The house-elves' duties were shifted to other tasks such as running errands for the hospital wing.
Compared to how crowded the Great Hall was in general over the year, it now seemed pretty deserted. Very few students attended the meals at a regular basis, because it wasn't prescribed anymore. Headmaster Dumbledore had seen to that. Within ten days the wards would be finally down and life would resume its usual course.
Many pupils wanted to stay by their hurt friends or help in the infirmary. Many pupils wanted to be alone, to deal with their pain as they saw fit. And many pupils just didn't want to be in company of someone else and be confronted with those who survived.
But even if all the students would come down to the meals, they couldn't fill in the gaps. Gryffindor had lost the most; not that this had been a surprise. Closely followed by Slytherin (Even in that situation the rivalry was unbroken). A few students of this house had went over to the Dark Side. It came as a bigger surprise to the majority, though, that Draco had not been one of them. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw lost only a few - though, still too many.
Snape ate his lunch in silence. In fact, there was not much conversation going on amongst neither teachers nor students. The whole hall seemed depressed, and given the circumstances, it was comprehensible. Concentrating on how to go on in making his special potion, Snape let his mind wander. He was more than pleased that tiny professor Flitwick succeeded in creating a charm that helped him a lot in potion-making. Without that charm he wouldn't be able to use even one minute of his time for research, he would have to brew potions non-stop for the hospital wing. With the help of Flitwick's charm, Snape was able to let the cauldrons work on their own - without supervision. True, Snape would never have willingly agreed to this help - had he been conscious at the time, that was.
Stopping his little reverie, Snape returned to the more urgent matters. He had already sifted through his whole library and parts of the school collection, finding hints as to what he'd need to brew his potion. Inventing a new potion was always utterly thrilling, especially for one Severus Snape.
'Harry Potter' A gentle voice whispered suddenly into his ear. Looking up, Snape quickly surveyed the Great Hall with a blank expression on his face, coming to rest on the Boy-Who-Lived, who was currently talking to those know-it-all and redhead friends of his. 'What are you plotting, you insufferable brat?' Snape asked himself silently. 'Haven't got enough fame and glory? Can't wait until the world is back to normal that your victory is blown out for everyone to hear?'
As if sensing someone's eyes upon himself, Harry's head shot up and his eyes met with Snape's. Green locked with black and the glaring contest began. Snape noticed that both Granger and Weasley were now talking to Potter, casting quick glances in his direction; but that didn't disturb him. Lifting his left brow, Snape allowed himself a small smirk. The Potions Master was definitely nobody to be messed with.
Angrily, Harry set his jaw and brought his attention back to his plate.
-+-+-+-
Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way towards the medical wing to visit their injured friends. The hallways were empty and somehow this made their little journey the more depressing.
"Are you okay, Ron?" Hermione dared to ask. She hadn't seen him for days, after all, and at lunch he'd acted as if nothing had happened. She feared for her friend, feared for his mental state. A trauma - she knew from one of her smart books - was nothing to take lightly.
Sighing, Ron shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it." Avoiding both of his friends' questioning gazes, he picked up his pace and strode along the corridor.
"You can't run away forever, you know."
"Oh, but I can and I already do," Ron murmured.
Harry reached out with a comforting hand, but his friend brushed him off.
"It's okay, Harry, Mione, really. I admit it was hard at first, but now I've come to terms with what happened. There's nothing to worry about for you. I'm fine."
But Hermione wasn't convinced that easily. "You are not fine. A blind could see that. If you keep on locking away your emotions, it will kill you slowly from the inside. We all lost people we like and ..." she trailed off, thoughts of Draco lying in his own blood flashing through her mind. Quickly she stored them away. "We are here for you, Harry," she cast a quick glance towards the said boy, who nodded in return, "and me, no matter what. We may have our own things going on but your problems are our problems as well. You are our best friend and Ginny ... was as much ... my sister ..."
"I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!!"
Hermione flinched violently at this outburst and Harry hurriedly assured their friend, that they would leave him be - for the time being.
A few minutes later, the three friends arrived at the hospital wing and entered mutely. While Ron made his way towards the cabinet to offer his help and Hermione made a beeline in the direction where most likely her boyfriend was, Harry stood frozen to the spot, still in the doorway. He'd almost forgotten how bad it had been. In this medical chamber were definitely more people than a few minutes ago in the Great Hall. Harry watched as classmates comforted students from other houses (as they couldn't watch their own housemates suffer), working around their own grief. Just as Ron. The redhead was currently applying a new bandage to Pansy Parkinson's shoulder. Who would have guessed? So near her neck and he didn't even try to throttle her.
Harry was still lost in thoughts as screaming voices reached his ear. Searching for the source, he saw Hermione, flailing and crying hysterically in the arms of one 5th year student, who tried in vain to comfort her.
"No ..."
-+-+-+-
Severus stalked towards the headmaster and unceremoniously plopped down into a chair. "You wanted to speak with me?" he asked, after declining both tea and lemon drops.
"How is the research for you memory potion progressing?"
Severus stayed a few moments silent, wondering how on earth Albus was able to live up to his name. Sometimes he asked himself why Albus had needed a spy in the first place, as he knew everything going on, anyhow. "Excellent."
Albus sighed wearily and folded his hands on the desk. "I can understand and I agree with you that claiming back what was lost, is highly important for you. But I have to ask you to hurry. The stocks of potion ingredients for the medical wing are drawing to a close and we will need every man to ensure ... that every student is going to live ..."
Severus nodded curtly and rose from his seat. "It shouldn't take me more than sixteen hours. Headmaster." With that, he was gone, leaving behind a very old looking Albus Dumbledore.
"Severus ..."
-+-+-+-
"W-why is it so dark?" The voice was nothing more than a frightened whisper, barely audible. A small figure sat in complete darkness in a rather old looking but comfortable armchair, shivering slightly. "Where ... am I? Mom? Dad?" she asked warily, squinting her eyes and looking from side to side. Unfortunately, she couldn't make out anything but black. Tucking her feet underneath her, she braced herself and rocked gently, trying to soothe her nerves, which were currently on over-drive.
She couldn't remember what had happened. She didn't know how she'd ended up in this weird room, all alone. She could be anywhere, for all she knew. All she could recall, was being at Hogwarts and on her way towards the transfigurations class and then there was an attack by Voldemort and his fellow Death Eaters ... Everything else was nothing more than a blurry vision, which refused to be specified.
A sudden spark of light shot threw the room and illuminated it for mere seconds. Red hair flashed for one heartbeat, as Ginny turned her head, intent on finding out where the source had been, but not daring to leave the sanctuary of her seemingly safe chair. "Hello? ... Who's there?" she called louder, then clamped her mouth shut suddenly. Maybe she didn't want to know. But now it was too late, anyway. Waiting with dreadful anticipation, Ginny surveyed her surroundings as good as she could, making as few sounds as possible.
The light returned, causing Ginny to shadow her eyes in order to see anything. The room, she was in, looked faintly familiar. She must have been there, once, a while ago for sure. Raising her head, she gasped surprised.
"Fred? George?"
-
A/N: 'Albus' means translated into German 'weiß' and that means both 'white' and (he) 'knows'.