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:Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka:
:Chapter Twenty:
"Something's wrong," Ginny said, shaking her head. "It's obviously not like her to be acting like this."
"Maybe we're wrong," Harry suggested. "Perhaps all of it was just morning sickness. Or crankiness. Or whatever you want to call it." Ginny remembered Hermione's head spell and, although it was so hard to be completely accurate seeing as how Hermione turned around and left so quickly, there was something…something like blood on her face. But blood? Where would it come from? There was no sign of cuts of punctures of any sort on her face that night.
"Maybe we should contact Madame Pomfrey," she said. "It, whatever it is, wasn't natural."
"So you're saying it's a magical infliction?" Harry's lunch sat in front of him, completely neglected. The students of Hogwarts milled around them, giving no notice to the surreal, quiet air that rested on two of the students. Ginny peeled her orange pensively and broke apart the little sections. What was it? What was going on with Hermione? Surely she would have said something if she was sick…right? Then again who knew what to expect from Hermione now after her injury. Was this some sort of backlash from her trauma?
"You tell me," she finally said, and slipped a piece of orange in her mouth. It left a sour taste in her mouth, just like all of those unanswered questions. Ginny wanted answers and she wanted them now.
"You know more about what is magical and what is natural. Is there any case of people…crying blood?" Harry's eyebrows rose.
"Crying real tears of blood?" Ginny nodded.
"And that's what you saw? With Hermione?" Harry seemed suddenly alarmed.
"I'm not completely sure," Ginny said, hesitantly. It was hard to be sure but…She thought again to that morning.
"Yes," she said. "Yes I am sure. She was." Harry sat back in his chair and they looked at each other with apprehension and concern and confusion.
"I'm not sure if this is something even Madame Pomfrey can fix," he finally said.
"Then it looks like we have some research to do."
Draco was enjoying the last rays of the sun. Most people didn't enjoy the fact that the sun went down at such an early hour during the wintertime but somehow, he didn't really mind. Most of his best work had been done in the cover of night anyway. The rock he sat on had absorbed the fragile warmth of winter and the lake water that lapped at his feet was frigid but he didn't mind; Draco liked the cold. At home, he slept with the windows open all year round, even when it snowed, leaving the maid, Martha, furious at the wet mess she had to clean up around the windows each morning.
"I thought I'd find you here." Draco tilted his head.
"I thought you'd come around sometime," he said. "Pansy." The girl settled herself onto the rock next to Draco, pulling her heavy, fur trimmed cloak over her. She still shivered.
"You always did like the cold," she said. Draco smiled a little bit. Despite the fact that he would rather be eaten alive by hippogriffs than marry Pansy, it didn't change the fact that they'd known each other since birth which indicated that they also knew basically everything about each other. Draco pulled his hand out in front of him. It was deathly white.
"You look like a ghost," Pansy informed him, giving him a sidelong glance. Draco smiled again. She also had the uncanny ability to read his mind sometimes. One would think that this would add up to a soul mate, or something of the sort, but Draco regarded Pansy as a sister when he was in a good mood and merely an acquaintance when he wasn't feeling quite so charitable.
"Though not lucky enough to fade away at will," he said.
"Don't say that."
"You know better than anyone that I refuse to take orders," Draco warned her.
"I know." They watched the sun linger on the horizon, washing the lake into a shade of blood red.
"Looks like the sun slit his wrists, doesn't it," Draco said, and laughed heartily at his own comment. "Just look at all that blood. He's just keeps on bleeding and there's no one here to help. He has no mouth to scream with." Pansy kicked at the rock.
"Stop it," she said. "I hate it when you get like this."
"Get like what?" he challenged.
"Weird and psycho," Pansy grumbled. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're turning into your father." Draco stopped laughing.
"Don't say that," he said, sounding sullen, and more like the young boy that Pansy grew up with.
"I'll say what I want. Draco, you of all people should know that I do as I please as well."
"Not about Lucius," Draco said coldly.
"And why not?" It was Pansy's turn to sound challenging.
"Because at the end of the day, you're still in love and the feelings are still unreciprocated." That made Pansy grow silent and they both kept their eyes trained ahead as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. The moon seemed to creep out, cautiously, and wash away the mess that the sun had made in its last defiant stance. The lake changed from blood to silver.
"What I don't understand is why you're fighting this so much. We're meant to be together, it's always been like that. And you've never questioned it until this summer," Pansy said. Draco dipped a hand into the water and let it go numb.
"I've always questioned it," Draco finally said. "I've always wondered every birthday of my life that is this it? Is this all that I am destined for, an unhappy marriage to you, a job that my father approves of, and finally, taking over the family estates and fortune?"
"What are you talking about? Do you know how many wizards would kill to be in your position?"
"Yes," Draco said. "Yes and many have killed to try and get to my position. They can take it if they want. I don't want it."
"But why not?" Pansy demanded. "What does this future not hold for you? You'll have money, power, influence, status, everything."
"Happiness. Love."
"As if you've ever found those qualities to be valuable," Pansy scoffed.
"Not until I lost them," he said.
"I won't be much trouble, Draco," Pansy said. She turned to him now and Draco purposefully took a long time to pull his blue hand back out from the water and wrap it up in his robes. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea, dipping his fingers into the lake at such a cold temperature. His hand was so cold it felt like liquid fire. Draco rubbed it, trying to prevent frostbite.
"Honestly, Draco, I won't. I'll bear your heir and I'll let you be. And maybe, one day, you'll come to tolerate, if not enjoy, my company. I may not give you love but what is love now? The best any of us can wish for is companionship and I can give that." Draco still didn't answer her. Pansy knew better than to expect an answer from Draco.
"Then you hate me that much?" she finally said.
"No, not hate," Draco said. "I don't waste my time on hating those who have no use to me."
"Then you would hate Potter? And Granger? Oh, but you don't anymore, do you? You love that little mudblood." Draco shrugged and gave her a strange smile.
"What is love now? You said so yourself."
"Whatever you think it is, Draco, you're wrong. It doesn't exist. It's all hormones, confusion, your sanity is hanging on the edge, don't you see? All you Malfoys have such weak minds. You always have and you always will. Maybe what they say is right. Brilliance is edged with insanity."
"And stubbornness is edged with stupidity," Draco answered. "I won't marry you, if that's what you're asking me. I would rather rot away with insanity than marry you."
"I know that," Pansy said. "But we still will. You will marry me even if it takes your father to drag you down the aisle."
"Then I guess I'll just have to kill myself before then, won't I?" The strange, careless words teamed with the twisted grin chilled Pansy to the bone.
"Don't say that," she whispered. Draco didn't answer and dipped his hand back into the water.
"Have you found anything, Harry?" Ginny asked. Harry was seated on the ground of the library, a stack of books next to him and one on his lap. His forehead was wrinkled with concentration as he drew his finger down the page, skimming for any information whatsoever that might be a clue to what was wrong with his friend.
"No such luck," Harry said, sighing. He arched his back and it cracked as he stretched his arms over his head. "How about you?"
"Nothing, except for these dratted statues in Italy. Apparently, it's fairly common in Italy for religious statues to start crying tears of blood, or something with a likeness to it. It's related to stigmata, I believe, but it's not what we're looking for."
"Maybe we're not looking in the right place," Harry said, kicking at a book by his foot in frustration.
"I don't think it's a muggle infliction," Ginny said. "We've looked at every medical encyclopedia and religious references. It's not here; it has to be magical."
It was when they were combing through all of the medical, magical infliction encyclopedias that Harry came across something.
"Here," he said. "Ginny, over here." She hurried herself over from where she was sitting at the table to the ground where Harry was.
"Tears of blood are the physical manifestation of the pain that the insane and traumatized endure," Ginny read.
"Insane?" Harry echoed. Ginny kept on reading.
"This is an uncommon ailment for it only happens when the patient's psyche is being split into two. The body cannot handle this pain and the pain is released through tears of blood. This is a warning sign that all must heed. Other side effects can include irritability and loss of appetite. If untreated, the patient's psyche would completely split into two parts, leaving their mind broken. At this point, the body cannot survive without the mind and the patient would die.
There are several treatments for this ailment. The most popular one would be to completely dissolve the part of the patient's psyche that is pulling away from the whole. Although this is the safest method of restoring the patient's sanity, they are subject to lose large parts of their memory or functioning abilities. A more outdated treatment that is rarely used is when a powerful wizard/witch, using anchors of other witches and wizards, would travel into the patient's mind to mend the split. If successful, the patient would return to their previous state of being but if the treatment is unsuccessful, both the traveler and the patient and all anchors involved would be lost." Ginny and Harry sat back, digesting the information.
"I think this is it," Ginny said. "She's forced herself to forget this summer. She's essentially divided her mind since then. I don't understand. Why didn't Madame Pomfrey anticipate this? What didn't she realize this would happen?"
"This is rare," Harry said, looking at the book again. "The last recorded case was in 1876 when Phileus Phlegm started sporadically crying tears of blood and his saliva would change to blood. His family attempted this second procedure and apparently the records don't show whether they were successful or not."
"Well we have to tell Hermione about this, and the faculty," Ginny said, frantic.
"I know, I know," Harry said. What would become of Hermione now? He wasn't sure he wanted an answer anymore. But if they stalled any longer…
"We find Draco first. And then we'll go to Dumbledore."
"But…what about Hermione?" Ginny asked. "Maybe we should ask her about this."
"She…" Harry frowned in concentration. He knew his friend well but had this accident changed her into a different person?
"If she's still the Hermione we know," Harry said, carefully. "Then if she had gotten help from the faculty and found out what a serious dilemma this was…she would have told us. But it seems like she's in denial right now, or she's waiting things out to see if they get worse."
"But there isn't any indication of how worse things could get before she…" Ginny's voice trailed off.
"Which is why we're going to ask Dumbledore for help," Harry said. "Come on, we have to find Draco."
"Hogwarts is enormous," Ginny said. "We don't know how much time we have!" Harry smiled wryly.
"You've forgotten," he said. "I still have the Marauder's Map."
"Then let's make haste."
"Draco! Draco!" Draco heard his voice being called and he felt Pansy beside him stiffen with surprise. He turned around, recognizing the voice.
"Harry?" he asked, surprised. It was Harry, with Ginny at his heels, both looking unnaturally nervous and pale in the moonlight.
"Draco, something is wrong with Hermione. It's serious and we need to get to Dumbledore fast," Ginny gasped, trying to catch her breath. Harry nodded.
"She's right. The sooner the better." Draco had come to life at the sound of Hermione's name and was on his feet already, moving towards the castle. Pansy had watched the whole interaction with interest and distaste.
"Is that what you choose, Draco? If I do recall correctly, you had told Harry Potter not to make the same choice you have made, dabbling with mudbloods and muggle lovers like Weasley." It took all of Draco's self control not to run back and strangle Pansy and push her cold, dead carcass into the lake.
"I have no time for your prejudices, Pansy," he said, his voice clipped. He started back for Hogwarts at a run and only after a second, Harry and Ginny followed, leaving Pansy alone in the dark.
"Where's Dumbledore's office?" Ginny called. Both Draco and Harry had been there before so they ran without stopping into through the corridors, up the stairs to the second floor until they came across the gargoyle statue. Then they realized they didn't know the password. Draco started pounding at it.
"Professor Dumbledore!" The statue was unmoveable as Draco struck his fists against it, his knuckles flecked red with blood.
"The map, Harry! The map!" Ginny urged. The enormity of the situation had finally settled on them at last and they realized that Hermione was a time bomb that could go off any minute. Harry fumbled with the map and opened it.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good!" he gasped, and the map seemed to materialize too slowly for them. Draco paused at his continuous pounding on the unyielding statue to look upon the map for the first time, impressed.
"He's in there," Harry said. Then he frowned. "And so is…" The doorway, at that moment, opened and Harry shoved the map back into his pocket with a muttered, "Mischief managed." They stumbled up the stairs and fell through the doorway into Dumbledore's office.
"Professor Dumbledore!" they cried. They found Dumbledore sitting at his desk without his usual, amiable twinkle in his eyes.
"Yes," he said. "I've been having the most interesting chat with Ms. Granger just now." Harry was expecting her to be there; he saw it on the map. But Ginny and Draco hadn't and gasped audibly when they realized she was sitting at Dumbledore's desk as well. Hermione stood up slowly and turned around, her fingers and the corners of her eyes slightly red with blood.
"I think we need to talk," she whispered. Dumbledore nodded.
"Emergency faculty meeting will be assembled immediately," he said.