Impressions Chapter TwentyThree, a harry potter fanfic

IMPRESSIONS chapter twenty-three

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, except for stuff you don't recognize.

Summary: An emotionally, physically, and mentally wounded Draco needs someone to help him, whether he wants to admit it or not, after his father lands in Azkaban, his mother is committed to St. Mungo's, and his entire world crumbles. Romance/Angst.

Author's Note: Please review!

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Hermione obeyed immediately, feeling extremely guilty, and walked out of the Infirmary without a word; not returning to Gryffindor Tower, but instead to the Room of Requirement.

Hermione yawned widely, and stretched, her hand cramped from writing out tiny definitions. She spotted a cup of coffee and sipped it gratefully, her eyelids struggling to keep open.

Nine hours of translations. Nine bloody hours. If it turned out to be for nothing, Hermione was going to march up to Voldemort and tell him to Avada Kedavra her.

She fought back another yawn and dipped her quill back into the inkpot.

Lamoriph = love

Menzi = 'to be' verb

Doliz = must

Y = the

Clefizipht = afflicted person

Clefiz = person

Luir = cure

Doliz = must

Mophizim = the feelings, actions

Ziphtim = affect

Ladneph = bad, worse

Tillemph = good, happy

Suddenly it clicked and Hermione choked on her coffee. She checked her runes dictionary twice over, and stared back at the completed translation, which read:

The countercurse for the Permeus Surpos is strangely basic; however, the circumstances in which the countercurse can be performed are exceedingly rare.

The person whom the Afflicted is cursed against (hereafter the Secondary Victim) is the only one who is able to lift the curse. As the Caster must hate the Afflicted in order to perform the charm, it is thus opposite with the countercurse. The Secondary Victim must love the Afflicted; otherwise, the curse will not be lifted.

An interesting facet of the Permeus Surpos is that the condition of the Afflicted is based entirely on the feelings of the Secondary Victim. If the Secondary Victim is angry, upset, shocked, or is otherwise negatively emotive, than the gash (and internal damage) will be triggered. However, if the Secondary Victim is in good spirits, the Afflicted will be able to control themselves. Similarly, if the Secondary Victim is angry or annoyed with the Afflicted, the gash will be affected.

The countercurse is such:

Noirzimus Anpermeus Lamorephum (accompanied with a third finger twirl and swoop, left to right, beginning from the shoulder to the knee)

And Hermione fainted dead away.

"Miss Hermy! Miss Hermy!" squealed a high-pitched voice that grated unpleasantly against Hermione's ears.

She moaned and opened one eye blearily. "What…?"

"Miss Hermy, Dobby must tell her that classes start in ten minutes!" Dobby the House-Elf squeaked, alarmed.

Hermione jerked awake quite rapidly. "What? Am I still in the…"

"Room of Requirement, Miss!" Dobby said shrilly. "Miss Hermy was working late, and Dobby thought that he should wake her!"

With a sinking feeling, Hermione remembered the translation she had completed in the nine hours of feverish working. "Thank you, Dobby," she said, subdued. Please tell me that paper was a dream…

Hermione glanced down and cried out in despair as she saw her own neatly-written lines—which she hadn't even comprehended at the time—lying in front of her, just a tad smudged by her nap.

She stifled a yawn. "Dobby… I don't think I can get to Gryffindor Tower on time…"

"Miss Hermy finds clothes and her school things in the Room of Requirement, she does, Miss!" said Dobby eagerly.

Hermione glanced around and did indeed see a fully pressed school uniform hanging on a hook in the wall.

She sighed in relief. "Thank you, Dobby…"

"Dobby just wants to please Miss!" said the elf earnestly.

"Miss Granger, please describe the effect of Lipwort and bat eyes when mixed with skunk cabbage," instructed Snape.

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. "Professor?" she asked hesitantly.

"Did you not hear the question, Miss Granger?" Snape leered unpleasantly. He walked closer to the table that Hermione was sitting at by herself.

"I—I don't know," said Hermione; too ashamed to admit she hadn't been paying attention. More like, I'm a bit bewildered by the fact that Draco's life is in my hands.

Snape looked positively astonished before slipping on his cold mask again. "Very well. It seems you're losing your touch. Longbottom? Have you got an inkling?"

Neville bit his lip, glancing at Hermione, who was a furious red.

"They create a… a mild calming effect," said Neville, his voice quivering.

Snape's lip curled. "Miss Granger has rubbed off on you, Longbottom.

Neville looked at Hermione apologetically, but she was staring down at her book, ignoring the snickers of the Slytherins, and indeed, the Gyffindors as well.

"Miss Granger, two feet of parchment on the various effects Lipwort, bat eyes, and skunk cabbage can have when mixed in various orders. Due tomorrow," he snapped.

Hermione nodded miserably. "Yes, Professor," she whispered. Snape nodded and turned away. Then, drawing on sudden inspiration, she dug inside her bag for a long-discarded 'present' from Fred and George Weasley, given to her over the summer. Smiling triumphantly, she popped one of the color-coded chews into her mouth. She stood. "Professor…" she said.

Snape turned to her from berating another student. "Yes?"

"Professor, I don't think I'm feeling so well…" said Hermione, swaying and purposefully unfocusing her eyes.

Snape sneered, "What is wrong with you, Miss Granger?"

"I think—I think I have a fever or something," said Hermione, the lie slipping past her tongue with strange ease.

Snape stared at her, distrusting. "Well… I believe that you're out of sorts, seeing as you're incapable of answering a simple question about Lipwort and bat eyes…" He paused to allow the class to snigger. "You may leave, but add another foot to that essay."

Hermione nodded and gathered her things, averting her eyes from her classmates, all of whom were staring at her with undisguised shock and suspicion.

"Bet she's going to visit Malfoy," Ron hissed to Harry in a very audible whisper.

Harry grimaced. "Don't get the picture in my head."

Hermione, thinking of nowhere else she could go, stopped for a second in the hallway to laugh out loud. She, Hermione Granger, had just intentionally skipped a class—much less, Snape's N.E.W.T. class—and was now going to see a boy.

She winced as she remembered the translation for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Was it all nonsense, just meaning to get the next reader all worked up about nothing? Or would she have to truly… fall in love with Draco in order to heal him?

She groaned and massaged her temples. Maybe her translation was incorrect. Even the most accomplished scholar had been known to mistake a few symbols every once in while… But you triple checked, the nasty little voice in the back of her mind whispered. You know you didn't make a mistake. Hermione Granger doesn't make mistakes.

"Madam Pomfrey?" asked Hermione uneasily.

The severe mediwitch peeked her head out from behind a storage cabinet. Her hair was flyaway and her cap was askew; giving the impression that she had spent a long night awake.

I don't look much better, Hermione reminded herself ruefully. Great big bags under my eyes.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" The frazzled witch asked.

"Um… May I see him?" asked Hermione, blushing madly.

The witch looked annoyed. "Yes, I suppose… Though he's not in good shape, mind."

Hermione nodded, thankful that the woman hadn't asked her why she wasn't in class.

"Go on, then," said Pomfrey, wiping her forehead with a cloth. "Poor boy," she added. "Can't even use Painless Potions on him," she said sadly.

Hermione walked into the separate wing and bit her lip when she saw Draco sleeping. I have to calm myself, she thought sternly. If I don't, he'll pay for it.

His eyes opened and he glanced at her. "Hermione?" he sounded surprised. "Isn't there Potions this period?"

Hermione went pink. "I…erm… skived off."

He looked absolutely delighted. "You didn't?"

She nodded. "Well… I was thinking, and Snape asked me a question, and I wasn't listening…"

His expression became even more elated. "You skipped because you answered a question incorrectly? How'd you manage that?"

"Well… You remember Fred and George Weasley?" Hermione asked quietly, turning a deeper shade of red.

"Yeah, tall, loud, annoying. What about them?" asked Draco dismissively. An evil grin crossed his face. "And whom were you thinking about, if I might ask?"

Hermione went an alarming shade of crimson. "I was thinking about the translation, if you must know," she said stiffly.

He winced suddenly and Hermione remembered the translation's warning with a jolt. His expression cleared and he asked, "Did you work on it at all?"

"Yes, a bit. I didn't get terribly far, though," said Hermione, nervous about the sudden effortlessness she felt with lying.

"Oh. Well, I'll work on it up here, if you'll bring it to me…" he suggested.

"No," said Hermione quickly. "No, I have plenty of time, I'll do it…"

He looked suspicious. "You're awful at lying."

"I'm not! Just let it alone, all right?" Hermione snapped, regretting it immediately as Draco compulsively clutched his stomach. "I'm sorry…" she murmured.

He looked at her. "What for?"

Hermione recalled that he didn't know of the translation's contents. "Well… For getting irritated when you're going through such a lot. Care to tell me what happened, exactly?"

A shadow crossed his face. "Not today."

"Oh." Hermione said, flushing again. "Well, all right then."

"How much left of the translation is there?" he asked suddenly.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know… Half, maybe," she said nonchalantly.

He smirked. "Are you sure you can do it? What, with all your prefectorial duties and all?"

"Is that a word?" Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Prefectorial?"

He shrugged. "Whatever."

Hermione sighed. "Well, I ought to be going…"

"What'd you come up here for, anyway?" he snapped.

Hermione held her annoyance in check. "Just to see if you're okay, I guess…"

His smirk broadened. "Glad to know you care so… awfully much about me, Hermione."

Unbidden, the words of the translation sprung into Hermione's head.

The Secondary Victim must love the Afflicted; otherwise, the curse will not be lifted.

"Right…" she said distantly. "I have to go."

"What for? If I'm not mistaken… there's another hour of Potions," said Draco, smirking.

Hermione fought off the blush she knew was coming. What if I told you it was because I have to fall in love with you in order to save your life? "Well… I have an essay for Snape. Three feet long," she said weakly. "Should get started."

His eyes darkened. "Fine, then."

Hermione nodded. "Hope you feel better…"

He glanced at her darkly. "Right."

Author's Note: I apologize for the wait; this chapter was, by far, the most difficult to write… I must have gone through ten different directions for this, and I'm still not totally happy. I tried to make it fairly long, and I think it's pretty informative, so… I have no clue when you should expect chapter 24.

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