Chapter 6

Severus glared malevolently at Yaji, his mouth twisted into a hideous sneer. The man was an utter bastard; oh yes it was certainly true…The porcupine had endangered the wellbeing of every student and teacher in the school; and he didn't look at all fazed, no, he had the sheer cheek to feel rage. His sneer widened as he looked down his nose at the man. Surely Dumbledore must have been insane when he hired him; the man was bloody immune to Veritaserum!

Yaji watched the gathered professors, his face a mask of indifference; though under the scrutiny of the Potions Master, Yaji seemed very at ease. The girl had survived of course, he couldn't let her die, everything would have been a waste of effort if he had; but the boy, he should have died. It was the will of the gods; the Malfoy boy was a sensitive, and by the looks of it more so than the old fool. The gods, had decreed his death, and she had helped him escape his fate. Now he had the blood of the young Kardeshi running through his veins, and it wasn't the blood of just any Kardeshian; a coil of anger unraveled itself within him. The fool Dumbledore had insisted it be her blood. What was the old man up to?

Ever since their previous meeting, the old man had had his mental shielding set to high. In the end meditation hadn't helped at all; there had been so many ki charges in the atmosphere, that when he closed his eyes all he did pick up were bits of her. They were both so alike in many ways, yet undeniably different. It seems that the girl may have a touch of empathy; though it is certain that she will be very receptive after she wakes from her slumber; but what of the boy? The child's own ki was very strong; not after the transfusion, but before and still is. The boy has the potential to be dangerous and retrospectively one can see why.

He glanced at Dumbledore, while assessing the other professors gathered. The one called McGonagall looked flushed, a frown creasing her forehead and settling unceremoniously onto her lips. Snape's face seemed to have frozen and captured the malignant sneer and obvious disgust in his eyes. Flitwick was clearly agitated by the level of animosity in the room; meanwhile, lightning fast looks traveled between departed Heads and the rest of the gathered staff; all except Madame Pomfrey and the large oaf Hagrid. Pomfrey was in the hospital wing trying to get the Kardeshi and Malfoy to respond to her calls like obedient dogs. Speaking of dogs, Hagrid was tending to the distressed animals. All animals are sensitive to all things metaphysical and considering the level of metaphysical activity that was still going on, they were more than just distressed, they were partially insane. The residential spirits however, were drunk with the power rush, still buzzing with it. Spirits are just a memory of an essence; they are quite pure, unhampered ki – life energy; the energy drifts had shaken the whole school for an entire day and night. The problem was that Hogwarts castle itself, was forged from magic, from ki. Every once in a while it remembered the energy rush; and books, pens, desks and sometimes even people went flying into the air; that is why for a day and night the entire student body had slept out in tents on the school grounds. Except the girl and the boy; they had had their own unconscious defenses up around them.

Dumbledore kept silent, his professors were waiting for answers. He had thought that he would not be able to seal the Drifts but he had; and so would have to have the answers and he did. The Drifts had not just been energy, they had been her, the essence of Hermione Granger; but her memories had told him that Hermione Granger she was not, rather, she was something else, someone else with no future, but who definitely had a past. However the memories were not Hermione's, though all in all they were a part of her, a part that she had no knowledge of and knowing what he knew, it was probably better off that way. Probably not he thought. She had given him the answers that Yaji had not. It may be that Yaji did not have all the answers to the questions he needed answering after all.

The old man sighed and shifted his spectacles up his nose. The Drift had spoken, but even memories could not be trusted and things it had revealed where better left unsaid. He straightened in his large leather chair and eyed his professors over his half-moon spectacles. As suspected, the man who called himself Yaji was observing him with a silent curiosity of his own. So, the tenacious young man had been finally outsmarted, by an old man nonetheless; maybe the day would get better.

"I am aware you have all gathered here under the semblance of an attack by Voldemort." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it reverberated throughout the enclosed space like an echo. The Head's office was meant to occupy two to four students including the Head himself and no more; as he looked upon his fellow employees, they had managed to make themselves comfortable. A small smile curled his lips and worked its way into his eyes, the benefits of magic.

"The catastrophic event has not gone uninvestigated; and all are aware of what has befallen our two brightest students." He raised his eyebrows at everyone, though it was more of a statement, not a question.

Snape creased his face in disgust, little wrinkles clustering around the corners of his eyes. Granger and Malfoy were both comatose the last he had checked. Narcissa was still having bloody fits; from the moment she found out that her only child had been so near to his death; and the Dark Lord had not been happy. What an understatement that was. It seems that the influx of energy, though it had not penetrated Hogwarts magical boundaries, had been sensed by the Dark Lord; then the news of Draco Malfoy's condition; and like 11=2; Angry Dark Lord Angry Dark Lord = Punishment. Snape had been appointed the child's guardian, when Lucious was diagnosed a schizophrenic, though he had always been mentally unstable for a while, that's what made being a sadist so much easier. So, it was only fair that Snape get the blame for the young boy's injuries; if he had fulfilled his duties as the young Malfoy's guardian, then this would not have happened.

"Oh, we are quite aware of the condition of our students, sir, but not the loyalty of our professors." He drawled coldly, eyeing Yaji as he said so.

"Serverus Snape," Huffed McGonagall, "if you have nothing nice to say, then don't say anything at all." She scowled. The problem was, he never said anything civilized enough to be considered nice.

"As amusing it is to watch you squabble among yourselves…" Said Yaji, letting his sentence trail purposely, to stress the other matters at hand.

Draco Malfoy, glared at the Mediwitch. The walls were too bright; the ringing in his head too loud; and the eternally frustrating witch would not leave him alone! White spots filled his vision as he tried to focus on what the witch was saying. He watched her mouth open and close like a fish, no sound penetrating those lips, except for the bruising ringing in his head. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Get away from me you old crone." A rumbling noise, from the bottom of his throat; sound rushed into his ears at those words and Madame Pomfrey looked vaguely satisfied.

His throat felt like it had been scrapped raw by a machete, wincing he touched a hand to his throat. Pomfrey's eyes glittered and she rushed off to get a salving balm for his throat. Malfoy swallowed painfully, rubbing his fingers across his throat, as if his touch would ease the rawness. He rolled his eyed up to stare at the ceiling, when he heard the soft flutter of a whisper. Turning his neck slightly to the right, to get a better look at the source of the whisper, he stopped. Stifling a groan he slid his fingers from around his throat to massage the muscles of his neck and shoulders, but he stopped. I should be dead, what a strange thought, but he wasn't. He was alive because of her, though she had tried to kill him. Ah…he sighed, as he tried to ease the stiffness in his neck and shoulder, he began to remember.

A torrent of colours spiraled in his minds eye; and slowly he began to decipher the jumble in his head. Granger had burnt out and unleashed an inundation of power at him; it had missed and turned the library inside out. It was all coming back to him; though, memories right after he had brought down his mental barriers were unclear. Somehow she had subdued his soul, long enough for help to arrive, but what about her? Her brown curls had been in a mess, though her robes were immaculate, her skin pristine; that is until she came to him and laundered in his blood. No…but she wanted to. The burning hunger, it had raged through her and by sheer stubbornness she had fought against it and won, nevertheless he had felt it dance across his skin, even if he could not see the expression on her face when she got a good look at the mess that was his shoulder. He could feel her power shimmering, like heat from her hand as she reached out to touch him, even now. A slight twisting, tightening sensation made him shiver. There had been so much blood…all of it his.

It was his shoulder then that was causing him the stiffness, and his current torment would be due to the sincerity of Miss Granger. Everything would have been much easier if he had just died, he should have, after loosing a large amount of blood. Madame Pomfrey would have either had to recreate a substantial amount of blood or get a pint or two from a donor, and leave his body to heal the damage done, with a little magical aide of course. The stiffness in his neck was gradually subsiding, and while it had lasted, it had achieved to help him focus.

Pomfrey's soft leather shoes, made gentle pattering noises as she walked towards Malfoy's cubicle, salve clutched tightly in one hand and wand in another. The noise of pattering feet died down as she slowed her strides, to stop altogether as she reached him. Silently, her eyes focused on the hand unscrewing the cork from the vial, she set about to sooth the young Malfoy's distress; even if it was not apparent to the world. Finally she popped the cork off the vial and poured the viscous mixture into her wand hand, placing the vial onto the stand to the left of Malfoy's head. Her attention, turned to Malfoy, and her eyes roamed over his neck, inspecting it for inflammation; there was none.

Malfoy watched her silently pour the baby blue mixture into her hand and place the green vial and wand onto the night stand. The thing reeked, he wrinkled his nose in disgust; she was going to lather him with that vile potion! Stormy grey eyes narrowed at her, flashing threateningly, but she ignored him. He watched her rub her palms together for a short while and then malodorous hands reached for him. He scooted away from them until his back was firmly placed against the white washed walls of the hospital wing. He glared at those putrid hands maliciously, finally accepting the wicked treats that fate had in store; or maybe not.

"Get your hands off me!" he shouted, as the mediwitch's hands made contact with the burning skin of his throat, instantly cooling and soothing. Oh, it reeked; the fetid smell filled his senses to the brim, it was almost enough to make him vomit bile all over those repugnant hands! Madame Pomfrey mercilessly rubbed the lotion into his entire neck, stoking and massaging the muscles in his shoulders. After she had removed the embedded glass, it had taken nights and days to slowly re-grow the intricately woven nerve tissues in his arm; and after healing and days of indolence, then to be suddenly in use, had wound his muscles into knots of tension and general stiffness. Massaging was also a great way to promote circulation of the blood. She cringed, next she would have to check on how Hermione was fairing.

Ginny grinned idiotically at her closest friend, subconsciously taking in her appearance. Hermione Granger looked like a carriage had run her over; then slowly peeled her off the back of the horses' hoofs; fuzzy brown curls were tangled into dangerous looking knots and patches of skin around her eyes and mouth were an unusual shade of blue-grey. Heavy bags sat beneath surprisingly alerts eyes, which peered at her through hollows. Blue-green spider thin veins ran beneath the slightly translucent skin, from face to toes. Seeing Hermione so weakened, was a first for her; she had always been presented with a calm, healthy, charismatic and strong Hermione Granger. To others, charismatic was the wrong word to label the Griffindor Know-it-all with; though to Ginny, Hermione was every bit as alluring as, say…Malfoy. And right now he's getting the Special Treatment…she sniggered at his misfortune.

Hermione Granger gazed intently at Ginny's eyes, watching her reflection, twist abnormally in the Weasely's blue orbs. The youngest Weasely looked sincere; though her eyes sparkled with mirth. It had always fascinated her how one could look into ones eyes and read, sentences, paragraphs, stories; which twisted and changed at an odd glance. Human beings were like books to read and explore; some were so clear to understand while others were so hard to read, because they were in shadows. Many a time had she stared into a mirror and gazed at her own dark eyes, keen on finding something unknown to her conscious mind. But to turn away disappointed, as she came to realise, time and time again, that she was one of the unreadable, lost in the shadows. Just like Malfoy and Snape, and Yaji and….Dumbledore. But things forbidden can be so enticing. As of late she had been noticing the little changes that have taken place, mentally and physically. She was beginning to think that no longer was she stable enough to be among civilization; and now she was sure a room in St.Mungo's was awaiting her arrival. One only had to catch a glimpse of the chaos of the previous day…wait a minute, how long have I been asleep?

"Eleven days." Answered Ginny, her face set into a solemn mask.

Eleven days. She had been sleeping for eleven days; no wonder she had gotten to the throne room without interruptions. Hermione narrowed her eyes; she had gotten further in her dreams than last three months could ever get her; though now, she could not remember. She racked her brain for remnants of dreams past and came up empty. Eleven days. She had been comatose for eleven days! What about Malfoy, had he been asleep as long as she had been? It was most likely that he had; Malfoy had sustained worse injuries than her. Retrospectively, she had not attained a single scratch.

Hermione closed her eyes and shuddered, fortunately Malfoy was still alive and kicking-literally. But he was very lucky to be alive, after all the blood he had lost; a sharp pain turned her attention down to her right arm, specifically, to the plaster that sat in the crook of her arm. Understanding dawned on her, it was only logical. Malfoy would not have survived without a transfusion, a blood transfusion. She flexed her fingers experimentally, wincing slightly at the sharp pain.

Ginny was still watching her silently, her eyes narrowing with concern when she perceived the slight pained expression in her close friends face. "Are you alright" she asked, leaning towards Hermione; her eyes carefully re-examining her comrade for unhealed wounds.

Hermione shook her head wearily, pressing her head into the cool wall behind her. Ginny watched her anxiously, her eyes flitting longingly towards Malfoy's cubical. Hermione sighed and opened an eye to gaze at the redheaded girl before her, "Don't. I'm fine." She said. Continuing to wiggle her fingers about slowly, the muscles in her left arm ached; now that she was finally paying more attention to her body, everything ached; her muscles throbbed faintly with a distant memory of pain. Ginny frowned, clearly unsatisfied with her comrade's answer. The patter of leather clad feet made their way towards the adolescents followed by the slight rounded figure of Madame Pomfrey.

"Well, Ms Weasley. It seems you may be destined to become a fine mediwitch someday." Hot blood rushed to the young Weasley's cheeks her lips curling into a contented smile.

Hermione wrinkled her noise, blood…she could smell blood; she looked pointedly at Ginny. A frown settled between her eyebrows. Madame Promfrey pursed her lips into a tight line, her forehead wrinkling as she ushered the Weasley girl away, in order to reach Ms. Granger. Hermione's noise twitched, the smell had faded, but like the ache in her muscles, it was not gone completely; then as the mediwitch drew nearer, blood, warm and sweet filled her senses to the brim and she closed her eyes again, drawing in a deep breath to keep from moaning. It was so strong…she could almost taste it, roll it in her mouth and –ooooohh. She suddenly realised, that for eleven days she had not eaten food, excluding the fact that she could have been fed through a drip, though none was attached to her arm.

Heat, searing heat, burnt the skin on her forehead, to charcoal black, until she writhed; eyes still shut, savouring the rhythmic gush of sweet liquid that filled her mouth. Thump, thump, thump…then faster, like a dance, though the pulsing started from the searing heat, it beat strongly between her lips, as if she had captured a fleeing creature's heart between her teeth. Food…gods, she was so hungry. The constant river flowing through her lips, was not sufficient, she needed food, to tear, to bite, to chew. She needed….

A dull ringing was echoing in the recess of her mid; and it grew louder, more persistent. A coppery tasting liquid stained her mouth. She no longer needed; the overwhelming urges to tear, to bite, to feed, were gone; and left in its wake, was the sharp, high pitched ringing that seemed to turn her inside out, nipping at her ears with certain eagerness. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed, only to gag on the rising mixture of blood and bile. A cool hand caressed her burning skin, stroking away the searing heat in a flood of icy warmth; she whimpered; what had she done? Cool hands turned her face, so that her right cheek rested on her pillow. The high pitched ringing dissolved into loud consistent wails. What was going on? What had she done this time? Hermione's lips trembled, the eyes hidden behind the veil of skin, filled slowly with tears.

"Oh, stop your blabbering Onna, for once you've actually done something right." Growled a deep gravely voice. It was familiar, having grated on her nerves since the owner first stepped into Hogwarts. Yaji. The wails slowly died down, followed by the soft shushing of a female voice.

Hermione sniffled, like a child caught sulking. Why did he have to be here at her weakest, most humiliating moment? Why? Where the gods out to torment her; because it seemed like so. She sniffled and whimpered again then halted her next sniffle when she heard a distinct snort of disgust. Tears held at bay behind her eyelids, to open them would be to admit her weakness to him; and for some strange reason she just could not do that, she hiccupped a sniffle, even in a hospital bed she still had some dignity left.

"How pathetic…." He mumbled under his breath, watching the poor excuse for a Kardeshi sniffle and whimper beneath his gaze; in no way was this his fault, he told him self. A bandage was securely wrapped around his right wrist; patches of red stained the whiteness of the gauze. At least now the ritual would be sealed, totally, completely. That blasted old man will have a lot of explaining to do.

Ginny quieted her wails to sobs, strong arms crushed her against a male chest and another pair of hands stroked her hair, whispering words of quietness and containment. McGonagall mumbled enchantments, to sooth and quieten the much shaken Ginny Weasley. She had scowled at Professor Yaji after his outburst; the poor girl, to have had to witness that. She sighed, pulling her hands away from Ginny's scalp to leave her in the arms of her elder brother. It had been a sight for sore eyes; Ginny Weasley had rushed to the Head Office, after mysteriously managing to get past the gargoyle; she had slammed her fists repeatedly against the oak door, demanding immediate attention. How she had nearly had a heart attack when she opened the door, a teachers frown wrinkling her face, to see Miss Weasley, panting, tears streaming in an endless line down her face.

Quickly she had been ushered into the Head's Office; she had encouraged Ginny to tell her the reason for her untimely arrival; though the girl had needed no prior encouragement. Panting, voice cracked with tears, she had managed to croak: "Hermione…sh…she…she's killing her!" She was then sobbing so hard that her body shook with the effort to keep her upright. "Oh god…someone…help her…" finally she had collapsed onto the plush carpet, clearly very disturbed. The room had suddenly become chaotic, Professor Yaji had rushed out of the door, Serverus Snape on his trail and soon the whole meeting rushed after them, wanting to see what the ruckus was all about.

She'd encircled the wailing Ginny in her arms, she had been obliged to leave, and attend to one of her own pupils, while another of her children wailed her distress. However the young girl objected to being left alone in the room, though she had ensured her that this was one of the safest places inside Hogwarts itself, though the girl had insisted on going with her even if it meant that she would have to see, whatever horror that was in the Hospital Wing again.

Dragging the sobbing Ginny along with her to the Hospital Wing had severely slowed down her pace; and she began to realise, as she stepped through the doors to the Hospital wing that, the upcoming dilemma had probably already been solved, after all, every professor of Hogwarts was in that very room with Hermione and whoever was trying to kill her. She had been proved right, the problem had been solved and in one of the most unlikely way possible to man.

Poppy lay in a circle of professors, being tended to. The torn flesh of one of her wrists was being sealed with a simple healing spell. Ginny screamed and screamed when she caught sight of Professor Yaji. Hermione lay back in her bed, her eyes closed, her fingers pressing Professor Yaji's right wrist to her parted lips. As McGonagall watched, horrified just as much the girl beside her, she noticed the pale throat of Miss Granger convulse as she swallowed with fervour. Her lips locked tightly around Professor Yaji's wrist. Yaji, however, watched her suck at his wrist, with hooded eyes; pain seemed to be non-existent to him; he was calm, as he watched her drain his life with every eager swallow.

Then finally it was all over. Yaji pulled back his wrist, and noted Hermione's lax expression with minor satisfaction before letting Vector tend to his injury. Madame Pomfrey was back on her feet in a matter of seconds; clearly quite shaken by what had occurred. In that moment, Harry and Ronald rushed into the Hospital wing, looking flustered. Later, when questioned, the duo said: they had heard screams coming from the Hospital Wing and Ronald quickly registered them as Ginny's, after that they had made a mad dash to get there.

McGonagall had abandoned the hysterical girl at the door to go to Poppy. Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore had laid a hand on Hermione's head to calm the girl as she seemed to be waking up, from her very short faint. McGonagall eyed Ginny Weasley sympathetically; wanting to hold her in her arms and hug away her fears, but that was her mother's job. She sighed shakily, bringing up a hand to rub at her tired eyes; she was getting too old for this job.

Amidst the clutter, Malfoy had had his eyes trained on Granger for the past thirty minutes, just watching her with cool indifference across the Hospital Wing. This time he had not been the one to feel the sting of her power. Watching her feed had been tormenting, while he is so weak, he will not be able to keep this façade of ignorance up for much longer. Blatantly speaking that is. His shields were still down, and he could still See and feel. Though the slight refreshing buzz that the salve had brought to his skin had made the extreme emotions that he had felt swarm his being a little fuzzy. His day was not getting any better.

As he had watched Granger's teeth pierce the yielding flesh of the exasperating mediwitch's wrist, he had given thought to offering his assistance, not to the mediwitch; but to Hermione. The feelings and needs that had rushed through Granger had brought his breath in a rush, till then he had never felt such powerful emotions take hold of any being so completely, as it had Granger. However, the poor mediwitch had not been as delighted as he or the girl.

The disruption in the Hospital Wing that evening, had caused a severe amount of re-questioning, especially among the Professors. The students of Hogwarts however, had caught wind of a particular rumour, stating a crisis in the Hospital wing on Monday 19th September, in which Hermione Granger was the victim of an assassination attempt. However unlikely it may seem to those who knew the truth or as close to the truth at that moment in time; the student body mourned the loss of a fellow student, all except the Slytherins; who unfortunately had a certain Slytherin pureblood trapped in the Hospital wing along with the quite hypothetically dead mudblood.

A/N: well there it is I guess. I know its taken me ages to get it posted, thanks to, what is becoming a frequent state of writers block. (It seems to me that there is a pattern.) as I was reading through this the eighth or ninth time, (I can't remember) I noticed that DIMS seems to be going Practically nowhere, I will continue writing though in the hopes that by the next eighth chapter, the pace would actually quicken and we can get to where we are supposed to be; though this story is going pretty slowly, this chapter and the previous are still important as I intend to relate, them to upcoming events in future chapters. THNX 4 READIN 'N' REVIEWIN-just thanking people in advance

Fuzz-out