All I need to get by

Chapter Twelve: By So Many to So Few

Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few

Winston Churchill

'Not another word in the letter,' read Hermione queitly, her hands folding the book neatly in her lap, 'about his errand; his mind ran on nothing but this astronomical subject. He had succeeded in his mission, and yet he did not even say yes or no to the great question : whether or not her husband was masquerading in London as the address she had given. 'Was ever anything so provoking!' she cried.'

'As Thomas Hardy?' asked a low, pained voice, 'No, I don't believe so.'

'You're so sceptical,' she retorted, letting the book fall to the floor, 'honestly, we're hardly into it yet.'

'You've been reading it to me for the last two weeks,' he retorted with a sly grin, 'how is that hardly?'

'Honestly,' huffed the bedside visitor.

Thomas Hardy's Two on a Tower fell unheeded to the floor as it slid off Hermione's lap and onto the linoleum with a muffled sound of scratching paper. On the bedside cabinet lay a rather large bowl of engorged grapes; as the bedridden man had almost no fine motary skills in his hands. Hermione Granger took one in her hand, and tossed it up and down menacingly.

'Do you want this up your nose?' she asked pleasantly, and he shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips, 'Then we'll carry on with Hardy.'

She rustled the pages a bit, attempting to find a more interesting bit – for although she loved the muggle author, the patient was not so keen on him.

'Ah, here,' she murmured at last, 'Swithin entered and seated himself at the end of the bench, and she, who had been on the watch…'

'Bring,' came a slightly foreign, far too bright sound in the clinical room, 'Bring!'

'Dammit,' muttered the patient, 'I was just getting into that.'

Hermione looked over the top of her newly acquired reading glasses at him, and frowned. She closed the novel with a little snap, and laid it tidily on the bedside table, along with the three cards and pile of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. The sheets were neatened up around him, and she kissed his forehead affectionately, although when she drew back her lips were still frowning.

'Malfoy,' came a morose voice from the doorway as it was pushed open, 'I hope you aren't allowing your visitor to strain you.'

'Oh be quiet Nott,' Hermione snapped, still unnerved by his arrogance, and kissed the patient's upturned hands.

Her flat abdomen brushed against the edge of the bed, and she felt a pang of pain radiate from inside her. Salty winds blew up into her eyes, and she hurried from the room, brushing Thomas Hardy onto the floor as she almost ran.

'Don't you ever know when to shut up?' she heard Draco demand as angrily as he could when his voice box was still being held together with magic.

The corridor was long and clinical; pale yellow walls trying to reflect the feeble December sunlight. She stopped when she was halfway along, and pressed her forehead to the wall. The coolness of it comforted her, and she pressed her face further against it, wanting to feel the numbness spread. Little fires burnt beneath her eyes, but she extinguished them with unshed tears, and clenched her fists into balls. It was ten in the morning, and she had to liason with three Unspeakables in this corridor and The Child. Perhaps she would stop briefly in the Purple Room, and pause to watch the revolving magic cacoon.

'Excuse me?' came a concerned, bossy voice from behind her, 'Are you alright?'

'Of course, fine,' she answered in a half daze, and the nurse nodded in understanding as she turned around.

'Good,' he answered vaguely, and left carrying a stack of bedlinen.

She walked along the corridor and down a staircase, into the Magical wards which spanned the hospital, and left the comforting calm of the seventh floor. Below nurses rushed past her, checking the time hurridly and filling in reports while they adjusted their robes. Healers in red robes fussed and reprimanded the nurses as they rushed after patients and timetables. The long term ward stretched before her like an eternity as she paused before entering.

'Good morning!' buzzed a nurse cheerfully, who didn't know her name, 'My, you're early today!'

'Yes?' she asked in a dull voice, 'Reports please.'

The nurse, who had seen her every week for the last month, beamed brightly and passed her three sheets of paper, each with a name written at the top. Her scraggly brown hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore glasses that were round. It was almost a pity they had to obliviate her once her three patients were released, Hermione ruminated idily as she mooched down to private room number seven two four.

She didn't say anything until she had seated herself on a chair by the window and straightened out her jodphurs, and polished an imaginary speck off her boots.

'You're early,' said the strangled sounding voice, and Hermione met a gaze that was focused on a tree outside the window.

'I went to see Dr. Malfoy,' she answered.

'Oh?' enquired the Unspeakable wistfully.

'Yes. They're pulling his voice box back together today,' she wasn't really supposed to mention the 'accident' as Operation Stonehenge had been dubbed, but a sudden vicous monster reared it's head up.

There was a groaning silence as 433 scanned his papers, and straightened a crease in it's corner.

'You're being dismissed this week,' she remarked with some surprise.

'Yes,' he finally sounded a little animated, and pulled his gaze to hers for a second before ltting his eyes wander again, 'Going home, the nurse says in a childish manner.'

'What will you do?'

'Go and see my daughter,' he said, almost proudly, and Hermione bit back a gasp. This Unspeakable was a member of her elite team, and she hadn't known he had a daughter. Perhaps there was something archaic in the Unspeakable rules, something that needed to be fixed.

'Will you come back to the team?' she asked, knowing she had to for her reports.

'Will you?' he asked, and then shook his head in response to his insensative question.

'If…' she trailed off, 'Perhaps,' he deserved honesty, 'I honestly don't know.'

'Yes,' he answered decisivley, 'Yes I will.'

She didn't know why but his conviction suddenly made her unwavering reply seem small and pathetic. She looked down at the notes again, and scribbled 'yes' on the top right hand corner.

The next Unspeakable made her write out no, but as soon as he went back to sleep she scribbled it out, and wrote declined next to it. There was something cowardly about the way he said no, and she couldn't shake it from her head. Declined, that was a better word. He was in the lowest, oldest squad, and she didn't want him to be remembered because he was a coward – he had served long and hard years. She tried to shake off his feeling of disapproval of her, but that didn't budge either.

Zacharias Smith was sitting in the large, battered chair she had transfigured for him by the window when she arrived in room seven two nine. He had a blanket tucked around his legs, and his face was gaunt while he watched the city street spread beneath him. His lips were thin, and there was a drip attatched to his bed.

'Hey Zach,' she said softly as she closed the door behind her, and sat down on the bed.

'I thought he was alive,' he said brokenly, and a sob caught in his throat.

'He was alive long enough to hear,' you scream, she wanted to say, you say you loved him, her mind chimed, and after a moment's dithering she settled on 'you.'

'To hear me murder another man,' he said, dully.

'You didn't murder him!' flared Hermione defiantly, 'It wasn't murder!'

'What was it then?' Zach asked, turning to her, eyes burning with tears, 'Then what was it Hermione?'

She reamined silent, not moving to touch him at all. She had seen Draco strangle a man, yet he showed no remorse. What was it that made Zacharias different from her beloved? Was Draco a monster because he didn't feel anything, her mind wondered traitorously.

'I wish he could be here,' she said at last, 'I wish this hadn't happened.'

'You have to change it Hermione!' Zacharias snarled savagely, throwing back the blankter and looming over her. Terrified, her hand closed on the tiny panic button she held. 'Hermione you have to do something! Look at us! Look at the Unspeakables! You know number one isn't upto it! You know he made mistakes! For the love of God Hermione! Please!'

She watched him take a stunner to the head from a burly nurse with a no-nonsense look on her grim face. The tears dried on his face as they levered him into bed, and she didn't feel afraid of him anymore. She cried in the corridor.

Slowly, with the dried tears sitting on her face, she wandered down to the next level, where The Child was being held. She was sitting on top of her bed with her legs folded neatly beneath her, dressed in an oversized green shirt that Hermione vaguely recognized, and a pair of jeans. She was colouring in, concentration completely held by the blue crayon in her hand and the picture of a slug. Her mother was sitting next to her, on a chair, wearing muggle clothes and a cloak over the top. Her eyes were fixated on her daughter, as if she was afraid she would vanish any second.

'Good afternoon,' Hermione said quietly, realising it was after noon, and stood at the end of the bed.

The Child looked up at her briefly, waved the crayon at her, and went back to her work. There was a brownish stain that even magic couldn't remove up the back of the shirt. Hermione felt sick. She could smell the scent of death in that shirt, and the expensive cologne that had loomed over her. Her mind was playing tricks on her, she repeated firmly.

'She's wearing his shirt again,' came the strangled voice of her mother, 'She won't wear anything else.'

Hermione said nothing. The Child was the result of a rape, and to hear of her attackers identity and escape had almost driven the woman round the bend. She was afraid of her daughter, who showed a great deal of magical energy, and had retreated to the muggle world. Her father had snatched her.

'Drawing slug!' announced The Child firmly, ignoring her mother, 'Pappy likes slugs! Show pappy!'

There was a strangled sob from her mother, and the chair was vacant. The café would be the recepitant of a distraught witch for at least an hour. Hermione sat down on the bed, and looked at the slug.

'It's very good,' she said soothingly, a part of her screaming hypocrite. Hermione would have run out of the room long ago, 433 didn't, 'But why do you want to give it to pappy? Why not mammy?'

'Pappy loves me,' said the little girl serenely, 'he told me so.'

Hermione thought of the soft, round body hitting the stone, and the blood that had been running down her cheek, and almost retched. She wanted to scream at the little girl, to shake her shoulders with rage, to tell her that her father had been planning to sacrifice her and drain her powers, but she couldn't. Instead she sat with the little girl for an hour, until she asked the customary question.

'Why didn't pappy kill you? He said he would,' and Hermione choked up.

'Pappy didn't kill me because,' she paused for thought, 'Because somebody loves me too.'

The Child nodded happily, and passed Hermione a picture of a leopard that she had drawn. It looked like a sheep with pink spots, but Hermione ucked it into her file anyway. The Head could unravel it, deal with it, burn it. She could barely touch it.

She left, hurridly. She had work to do.

Six days to the trial.

Pointless Part:-

I guess most of you will be saying what did that have to do with anything? Basically it's a prelude to the trial, and to see what's happening to those involved. I hope you like it; I used curt styles to show Hermione reigning in her emotions before you complain. Anyway, I think that's about it. See you next time!

Patagonia:- Perhaps I do understand human nature, or perhaps I'm just a cynic. Thanks for your review, it was really nice to have someone think about why they liked it so much.

Puzzlette:- I think I told just about everyone I know that you said I was a glittery writer, I was so pleased! What newts will get me? Hmmm, attack of the killer newts. Interesting. Oh, it was very confusing when everyone was generally being rude at the end of the last chapter, but next chapter it will be clearer, I promise. Ta!

Soul Stealer Immortal:- No, Draco isn't dead. I love being wished happy writing, it's so cool. You should patent it before I steal it ::ashamed look:: sorry.

Sunflower18:- it was meant to be depressing, not make you giggle. ::hmph::

SilverMoonset:- Scary person. I'm glad you don't care when I might kill off my crucial characters… ::laughs:: Thanks!

Paprika90:- Excellent, thanks very much!

Irishsodabread:- You're lovely. That was such a nice review. I'm glad you think my portrayal is accurate – it's something that I try to do, but sometimes it doesn't work. I don't believe you can just go into a story and change them around, glad you noticed. Y'know, putting Later Kid, makes you sound like a gangster. It was excellent! )

Sila-Chan:- Glad you enjoyed it, thanks for putting me on your favourites list!

Chica91:- ::whispers entire plot:: there, now I've ruined it for you. Oh, you didn't actually want to know the entire story? Whoops. Gah, I'm such a cheeky monkey, sorry! Thanks so much! )

Sweet Beatrix:- Oy, you think just because you review every single chapter you get away with a one line review? Nah, only kidding. ::snuffles with laughter:: sorry, I think I'm kind of weird today. Ciao!

Heartsyhawk:- welcome to this weird world! Thanks for your review! Hope you enjoyed this chappie too.

Foxer:- I think everyone is ::gloomily::. Maybe my mind works differently to everyone else's. Thanks lovely!

Jean jelly bean:- The Child is a kind of weird extension that'll all be explained next chapter. Basically she mr-evil's kid…and she has everything to do with everything. Doubter ::sulky face:: If you had written any more 'moremoremore' I would have thought you had hyperventilated or sommat. ::beams:: thanks for your custom, please review again! ::cheesey grin:: Gah.

Me again. I just wanted to say thanks again, and I know I'm confusing most of you, but hang on in there and all will become clear. Oh, and what did you think of The Child?

By the way, anybody guessed what the rotating caccoon is? The idea came to me outside my locker and I jumped up and down so hard I bounced on Emma's toe…heehee