Hand Talk
Disclaimer: Of course I own all of these characters. I keep them locked up under my bed and feed them table scraps. NOT! If I owned these characters I would be sending these stories to my publisher (which does not exist) and not sending them to Summary: Hermione is found bloodied and bruised, without her sight and hearing. Resorting to the only communication she knows, there is only one other who understands her. HGSS
Rating: M (mature themes, violence and language)
Chapter 17
Warning: Chapter Summary may contain plot spoilers
Chapter Summary: The Banshee scream and the disappearance.
Nicole slipped off the toilet seat, pulled up her pants and refastened her little robes. Pulling down the toilet lid she reached up and grabbed the chain, giving it a big tug and flushing the toilet which went unnoticed by those outside.
Unlocking the door she stepped out of the cubical. Looking for Hermione, a chilling sight met her eyes. Some of the sinks were broken, spraying water all over the floor. One of the mirrors was cracked and there were chunks of wall and tile missing around the room. Dust hung heavily in the hair. There was a student there near the door, he was a boy. His robes were dirty, covered in dust and water. It was as though he was concentrating so hard he didn't even notice she was there. He had his wand out, pointing at Hermione as her body jerked about on the wet tiles not three paces away from Nicole, her mouth open in a scream that didn't reach the little witches ears. Her hair half wet, slopping about the white floor tiles and her face, robes dishevelled, wand lying uselessly beside her claw-like hands. Her body jerked as if electricity was running through her spine and shattering through her limbs, eyes shut tightly as if trying unsuccessfully to block out some of the immense pain.
The little raven haired girl stood their in terror, eyes wide, breath quickening as it passed through her slightly parted lips. Opening her mouth she let out a banshee scream that seemed to go on forever, her short hair flaring out around her as if by an unseen wind. The mirrors shattered along with the stain glass windows. The boy's wand clattered to the ground his hands pressing against his ears as he backed away, confusion and fear written in his eyes, only stopping when he reached the tiled wall behind him. Hermione, seemingly unaffected by the sound, gradually curled into the position she held during her first few months of life.
ooOOoo
A cry echoed through the halls of Hogwarts, Professors and students, alike stopping throughout the castle. Lectures halted, quills paused, potions simmered unattended. Charmed pillows rained down on poor Professor Flitwik, ghosts pausing in the hallways and halfway through walls and Peeves stopped smearing ink on the school telescopes. All because of the unearthly sound.
"Class stay in your seats," called Professor McGonagall as she swept out the door, wand drawn. Other students flocked into the halls ahead of her, curiously peering down the halls towards the source of the sound. "Back into class, NOW!" she ordered, practically running down the hall, robes billowing behind her.
Minerva, accompanied with other Professors who had left their classes, sped down the halls to the third floor bathroom. Rounding the last corner another Professor joined the advancing ranks, the Transfiguration Professor in the lead. As they approached the door, they formed a semi circle in defence of whatever being or object created such a noise. With every step the racket increased.
Throwing open the door the sound assaulted them all with full force, many clamping their hands to their ears while others tried to magically reduce the sound. The source of the banshee cry was a little girl. Although she saw them she continued to screech.
ooOOoo
Nicole and Hermione were running late. The boys had said they were making a pit stop on the way to her sixth year Advanced Potions class. Professor Snape had been halfway through his speech on the proper preparation of Ministry controlled herbs and fungi when the sound echoed through the dungeons. Within seconds he was out of the dungeons wand drawn, heading towards the sound. Whatever caused that sound was not a good thing. More than a simple student prank.
Skidding down the hall he saw the teachers outside the door to the girl's bathroom. Several had soundless bubbles around their head but they seemed to do no good. Stepping forward he looked into the bathroom, wand at the ready, seemingly unaffected by the echoing sounds.
The screaming stopped abruptly. There was the source, Nicole, a little girl. No wonder none of the teachers had done nothing, they didn't know what to do. She looked towards her uncle a faint whisper of a breath escaping her lips as she slid to the floor, unconscious
Taking in the rest of the room he saw the other two; Theodore Nott and Hermione. The room was like a war zone, tiles, stone and mortar everywhere. Hermione was unconscious, her hair and robes wet and covered in dust, lying on the floor near the taps, Theodore was scrambling towards his wand from the edge of the room, not even having noticed the Professors at the door. Before he could reach his wand he was thrown back, pinned against the wall.
"Poppy!" shouted Severus striding towards the wayward student, wand to his neck. "Check the girls."
Within seconds what seemed like the entire teaching population was in the bathroom. Many left at the insistence of the Deputy Headmistress, returning to their classes leaving only four behind; Snape, McGonagall, Pomfrey and Hepel.
"What happened in here?" glared Snape at the tousled boy.
"I don't know," answered Nott. "I was just coming past and heard the scream. I came to try and help but I couldn't do anything."
"It would be wise not to lie, Mister Nott," ground out the Professor, his dark eyes seeming to expand, delving into the others depths.
"I swear it's the truth."
Twitching his wand slightly, ropes flew around his wrists and ankles glowing a sinister blue, magically binding him.
"Hepel, take Nott to the Headmasters office immediately. I will help with the girls."
"Right away Severus," he answered, stepping forward from his position near the door, seemingly pleased to have such an important job.
"Don't let him out of your sight for one second."
"Of course not."
Turning back he pocketed Theodore's wand watching the two girls being levitated onto stretchers.
ooOOoo
Severus sat in the hard wooden chair watching the young woman before him as she lay unnaturally on her back, arms stiff by her side, legs straight, eyes closed. She looked so peaceful amongst the hospital issue blankets. Only the gashes across her face and arms betrayed her wellbeing. At the moment he was in the hands of Professor Hepel, most likely in Dumbledore's office awaiting or possibly receiving his trial before Dumbledore. If his actions were considered too heinous, he would be brought before the Wizengamot for examination.
Severus wanted to go and rip that monster, limb from limb for what he had done but he couldn't leave. Hermione had been out for a good six hours. The nurse said she would be awake after an hour or two, but six? He was becoming concerned, more than usual, for her wellbeing. What was wrong? Why wasn't she waking up? What did he do to her?
Nicole was asleep on the other side of the curtain in her own bed. She had been up and about beforehand and was now sleeping peacefully, thanks to the dreamless sleep potion. More than anything she was just tired and exhausted after the feat she had performed.
No one knew exactly what had happened for her to create such a volatile sound. It was baffling how such a small girl with no magical skill could do such magic. Any second year could create a siren-like sound, but the cry of a banshee was advanced charms.
There were researchers investigating similar cases where young children had performed magical feats well beyond their understanding. It had been theorised that young children, and people who posse little control over their powers could unintentionally perform small magical acts such as blowing up delicate objects.
Pureblood families usually test their children at a young age to be sure their child contains enough magical talent to uphold their title as a pureblood. This disturbingly was not a dieing ritual. Many purebloods suffer infantile deaths. Some families, like the Malfoy's, giving birth to several children which suffer tragic deaths before their first birthdays. Requirements of child are that they both are healthy (including no defects) and well endowed magically. Draco was their fifth child. Their first son failed his little examination, meeting his death after a two storey fall. Either he was a squib, quite a common occurrence in the last hundred years, or he simply had not fully developed his powers. Their second birth stillborn, their third birth a set of identical twin girls, unfortunately with eleven fingers each. The pureblood gene pools were feeding upon themselves. Stillborns, squibs and deformed children statistics rising through the roof. Thankfully, Severus thought to himself, he was of Spanish descent, a completely different set of genes all together. He could impregnate any English woman with little chance of this child being a 'dud'.
In any case, there was something special about Nicole.
A whimper pulled him out of his thoughts. Hermione was moving around under the blankets, her legs shifting, her arms bent, hands fisted. Her once expressionless face contorted in what appeared to be fear. Small whimpers and moans escaped her lips as she rolled onto her side. Severus practically jumped out of his seat to be by her side. His hand went to her shoulder grasping it lightly as he knelt by the bed whispering nonsense to her. Soon she was peacefully asleep under his gentle caresses along her upper arm. It was as though his simple touch had broken her from her nightmare into calm sleep, as effective as a dreamless sleep potion.
Severus was seemingly intrigued by her face, gently brushed several stray pieces of hair away from her face, taking in her beauty. Her face was once again calm, the only difference now the slight upward pull on the sides of her mouth. For a moment he simply sat there watching her. The gently rise and fall of her chest, how softly her lashes lay against her skin.
"Severus," he heard a muffled voice outside call. His eyes darted to the door. "There you are," said Professor McGonagall stepping in through the fabric and iron doorway, spotting the Potions Master seated stiffly in the wooden chair in the corner of the room, as forbidding as usual. "Albus would like to see you."
Nodding he stood and grabbing and securing his outer robe, followed Minerva out the door, sparing a glance at the now quietly sleeping woman as he left.
In silence the two departed the Hospital Wing. Minerva taking the lead, the Potions Master barely half a step behind, an old tactic of his; following someone while to all others it simply looking like both knew where they were going, surprisingly handy skill. It was easy for him. The mindless effort of walking giving him time to think, the only sounds the rustling of fabric and clicking of heels on stonework.
What was she doing to him? Every time he was around Hermione, he felt like a love sick teenager. He was possessive, not doubt there. But did that go beyond the call of teacher and carer? Unfortunately for him, yes. But there was no way, no way in the world that he should even be thinking these thoughts. The feelings weren't reciprocated, clearly. Who would like the greasy, git of a Potions Master? Oh yes, he knew all about how those little urchins talked about him behind his back. Greasy git, Snarky Snape and quite a few others not fit for the ears of children, let alone their mouths.
"Severus," called the Headmaster, exiting just ahead from behind his gargoyle and pulling him from his thoughts.
"Albus," he replied curtly.
"I am in need of some Veritserum for Mister Nott." The usual twinkle in his blue eyes dimming somewhat.
"Certainly," he answered, "if you will please excuse me." Without so much as word from either party he disappeared towards the dungeons, robes billowing about him as the welcoming darkness devoured him.
ooOOoo
Striding back towards the Headmasters office, small vile in hand, he was intercepted by McGonagall.
"Severus," she called, racing in a very un-McGonagall-like fashion.
"What is it?" he asked thoroughly unimpressed as to how she was conducting herself.
She slowed to a brisk walk continuing her conversation on the run, so to speak, before stopping dead in front of him.
"It's Nott, he's gone."