Come back to the light
Author's Note: I cannot tell you how blessed I am to have such dedicated readers – thank you for the comments and the traffic. You know you are on the right track when someone says that you have reduced them to tears more than once!
I want to apologize for how "angsty" this story is, but in some way it is a catharsis for me. I've been drawing on my own life experiences, as well as my experiences from being a musician, and a critical care nurse (in case you couldn't tell – I couldn't stay away from the "muggle" healing – this is why!) In any case, I take it many of you don't mind via the traffic and reviews that I am getting. Thank you so much for the suggestions, they have definitely given me some ideas!
There are a few things I'm going to try – lyrics and quotes affect me greatly (as I made them affect Hermione in the same way) anyway, at different parts of the story, if you see something BOLD and in italics, it is a quote or lyric (or piece out of my own poetry) from something that may have inspired a certain passage, or to invoke a certain feeling. If this totally flops, let me know!
Also – in case anyone missed the last note – a dear reader instructed me on how to remove the block that prevents anonymous people from reviewing. The block is removed and you anonymous folk may comment now if you wish! I do so love reviews – and especially suggestions! Thanks to everyone for being so dedicated, it means a lot to me!
ANYWAY, Here is COME BACK TO THE LIGHT!:
Minerva dreamed of Hermione.
All she saw was black. Even with her eyes open wide, Minerva could not see a single thing in front of her – yet she knew that someone else was there. Minerva took ten steps forward and stopped. She got down on her knees, and with a snap of her fingers, she conjured a candle. In the glow, she saw Hermione – in the fetal position, eyes closed – bruised and bloodied – as she was when Minerva was awake. She held the candle closer – it appeared as though Hermione was not breathing. Minerva sat back on her knees – wondering what this dream was supposed to mean – before she heard Hermione's voice: "You found me."
Minerva jumped in shock. She looked down at Hermione – her eyes and mouth were still closed, yet she heard Hermione's voice echo around her. "You came for me." Minerva stared on, for her cub showed no sign of movement when she uttered those words. Minerva had no idea what was going on. Everything around them was pitch black – save for the candle that Minerva conjured. While Minerva heard Hermione's voice, she saw no movement from her lips. Minerva was confused and scared.
"Of course I came for you." Minerva replied –believing it to be some dream. "My heart will always find you. I will always come for you." She traced her lithe fingers down Hermione's cheek. Her heart almost stopped when she saw that with each line that her fingers drew, the bruises and cuts seemed to heal behind them.
Hermione was still in the fetal position when Minerva heard her voice echo around her, "Why?"
Hermione still appeared dead before her, when Minerva took the back of her hand and stroked Hermione's cheek. "Because I made a promise." She said, "And you made a promise to me."
"It is so dark where I am." Minerva heard Hermione's tiny voice around her say – though Hermione's lips and eyes remained closed. "So dark….so dark."
"Then open your eyes, lamb…come back to the light." Minerva said – touching Hermione's eyelids.
Hermione's eyes opened at her touch, and saw her mentor bathed in candle-light. She did not move, did not breathe – the only sign of life was in her eyes.
Minerva traced her hand around Hermione's face.
"Why?" she heard the voice of Hermione ask again - around her – Hermione's lips still unmoving, though their eyes remained glued to one another.
"Because of our promise to help each other." Minerva repeated, "And though I failed you this last time, I swear that I will protect you – even if it means that I never leave your side – even if it means sacrificing my own life."
"Why?" Hermione asked a third time, her voice progressively getting smaller.
"Because you promised to help me find myself…" Minerva said. "Do you really think I would let you off the hook that easily?" Minerva continued to trace her fingers over Hermione's bruises and wounds – leaving a trail of unblemished skin behind them. Minerva ran her hands up and down Hermione's arms and legs – then laid her hands upon the word "mudblood" carved on Hermione's chest. Though the wound healed, Minerva knew she would be scarred forever. She removed her hand and gasped – the scars now bore the word "pureblood'. Minerva had no idea what was going on – still believing that she was dreaming. Minerva placed her fingers across Hermione's lips, and her other hand on her back. All of a sudden, air rushed into Hermione's lungs with a long – drawn-out gasp.
Hermione lay there, taking deep breaths in and out – her eyes glued to her mentor's. The emerald eyes bore such love and affection towards her mentee that Hermione's eyes welled up at the pure emotion that they conveyed.
"I asked you to kill me…" Hermione said quietly – lips finally moving.
"How could I ever do that to you? Besides, I thought you didn't want pity." Minerva replied.
"Not pity," came the small voice "….mercy…who are you to play God?"
The words shot through Minerva, who briefly thought of all the machines that were keeping Hermione alive, thinking "what have we done?" She pushed the thoughts away before answering Hermione. "We aren't the ones playing God, Hermione. If it came down to it – we would have been willing to let you go, but it is not your time yet. The ones who were trying to play God were the Death-Eaters. This is war, lamb – your 'time to go' isn't decided by God during war, it's decided by the enemy – just like it is with all battles."
"….Maybe…maybe it was my time long ago – after what happened with my dad. Maybe these terrible things are still happening to me because I am not supposed to be here." Hermione suggested.
"Maybe these terrible things happened because you are supposed to be here. You will come away stronger, fiercer, and braver – unafraid in the face of battle. Maybe these things happened because you will be meant to help someone else get through the same thing in the future – that may be your path. Maybe you are here to help the rest of us…." Minerva said.
Hermione looked at her as she went on: "I have never felt more awake and more aware then when I am around you – watching you do what you do best. You make me want to be my old self again. The woman I was before the wars, before the grief, before the death – and as I grown closer to you over these past couple of months, you have made me feel the warmth that I used to feel once-upon-a-time. I knew from the moment I met you that I saw a little of me in you, and I knew I wanted to help you grow the instant I saw the way your smile lights up the room. I feel as though you are the child I never had…the one I so desperately wanted all my life."
Hermione's eyes looked down as Minerva opened the top of her gown, revealing many scars. "We all carry scars, Hermione – inside or out. I know you may think it selfish of us to want you here, but it is selfish of you to want to leave us."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Minerva. "Molly and Arthur have brought you into their family because of their love for you – you have 7 new brothers and sisters who have completely melted down knowing that they may lose you. Do you really think Harry and Ron will stand a chance without your help? And don't forget Cedric – I have seen you two together, watching the way you look at each other – as though no one and nothing else exists in the world but the two of you. Are you going to do that to him? Do you think he would survive it? Do you think so little of yourself that you can't see how much you belong here? Albus, myself, the Weasleys, Ron, Harry, Cedric, Tonks, Remus – it would destroy us to see you walk out on us, and the world. The world is a better place for having you in it, we're all better for having you in it. If you walk out, you will be no better than the enemy with the grief and pain that you will cause." Minerva stood, looked at Hermione once more, then turned to walk back into the shadows.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.
"To where you're needed." Replied Minerva, turning only her head back to Hermione. "Are you coming?"
There was a flash of light as Minerva stepped into the shadows, and she found herself waking up in the infirmary – to the sound of loud alarms and fast beeps. Hermione appeared to be having a fit on the bed – jerking up and down. Minerva sprang away from her and screamed "POPPY!"
Molly and Arthur leapt out of bed and rushed to their daughter. "What is going on? What's happening?" Molly cried.
Rhea rushed over with Poppy and Apollo. "She's bucking the vent!" She cried. The only other person in the room who understood what she meant was Apollo.
"Tell me what that means!" Molly cried, her heart beating fast.
Apollo turned to her and smiled, "It means she's awake."
Molly, Minerva and Arthur opened their eyes wide in amazement. "You did it Minerva." Poppy said excitedly as she rushed to Hermione's side. Hermione's eyes were wide with fear at the tube that was down her throat – the heart monitor was beeping fast, showing how scared she was. As her eyes focused, she began reaching up with her arms and pulled the IV out of her arm. She was panicking. She reached up to pull the tube out when she felt a pair of strong hands restraining her wrists.
"Hermione! Hermione, it's Poppy! Don't struggle, my dear, I know you're scared – you're in the infirmary.!" Poppy told her.
Hermione's eyes danced around the room – there were 2 faces she didn't recognize, but when she saw Molly, Arthur and Minerva, she outstretched her hand as much as possible towards them. She was beginning to calm down.
"Hermione, my name is Rhea, I am Poppy's sister from St. Mungo's. Hermione turned her head to face the stranger. "You have been hurt very badly, and we have to put this tube down your throat to help you breathe. Do you understand?" Hermione nodded. "Would you like us to take it out now?" Hermione nodded once more. "This is going to be uncomfortable, would you like someone to hold your hands?" Hermione reached for Molly and Minerva, who each took one of her hands.
Rhea deflated the balloon which was securing the tube in place, then instructed Hermione – "I am going to count to three. When I reach three, I am going to pull the tube and I want you to breathe out as hard and fast as you can while I do it. Understand?" Hermione nodded, fear returning to her eyes. "One, Two…Three!" Rhea pulled the tube as Hermione exhaled quickly, coughing and hacking as she did so. After a few moments she was able to catch her breath, and she examined her body. There was not so much as a blemish on her arms and legs. The only thing was a white scar on her chest that read "pure-blood". Everyone in the room looked confused – they know that wasn't what was carved into her chest the night before.
"I guess there's a lot to say about Gryffindor determination." Molly said as she ran her fingers over the scar. Hermione looked at the palms of her hands, turning them over as she looked up at Minerva – "You came for me…" she said in a rough whisper, her throat still sore from the tube.
"I told you I always would, I will always find you." Minerva said, smiling.
"You came for me….here." Hermione said, pointing at her head. "You brought me back."
Minerva kissed Hermione on the head and said, "You brought yourself back, dear heart – I just showed you the way."
Hermione lay back on the bed. "I'm so tired."
"Honey, you've been asleep for days and days!" Arthur said with a smile.
"I feel as though I haven't been to sleep for days. How long was I out?" Hermione asked.
Glances were exchanged, but no one spoke up.
"Mum? Dad? How long?" Hermione asked again, sitting up in bed.
"Two weeks." Molly replied quietly. "It is April 15th."
Hermione put her hand to her forehead and flopped back down. "I think I need to rest for a bit." She said.
"Of course, there's still some healing to do – I'm going to keep you on the heart monitor just in case, but I dare say that we're out of the woods." Rhea said.
'Out of the woods.' Hermione thought as she rolled on her side. 'I was out of the woods, and have been forced back in – by my mentor.' She let a tear slip down her face as she looked at Minerva. "Thank you." She told her. "Thank you for finding me."
Minerva smiled and said, "Always, dear."
Hermione rolled over, her back facing the group – who all exchanged nervous glances before Molly mouthed the words "she needs time." Everyone nodded. Poppy, her sister, and Apollo bustled around for a few moments more before returning to the office. Minerva went to seek out Albus, while Molly and Arthur kissed Hermione on the head and told her they were going to get something to eat, asking her if she wanted anything. Hermione shook her head solemnly.
When she was finally alone, the tears came in nothing less than a stream – soaking the pillow below her. She was not back because she wanted to be. She was back out of guilt. She wasn't back because she believed the things Minerva said about her and felt that life was better with her here – she was back because Minerva told her she was being selfish and that leaving would destroy everyone – that she would be no different than the enemy. She was back for the benefit of everyone else, and while she was alive on the outside, inside she was dead. Hermione knew how to put on a happy face. She knew how to fake "fine"…for awhile anyway, but there was still an insatiable desire to just slip away…
Meanwhile, in the Great Hall, the Weasleys were spreading the good news. Over the past couple of weeks it was no secret to anyone in the school that Hermione was victim of the Death Eater attack. The only person who still didn't know was Cedric. He was still at the hospital with his father – they didn't want to interrupt him unless Hermione took a turn for the worse.
Now, there was celebration and excited chatter.
"She really is a Gryffindor, isn't she?" Pomona smiled, glad to hear that Hermione was going to be ok. She knew that "ok" was a relative term, for Hermione would have a long emotional road to walk. She hoped that her Gryffindor strength would remain with her for the journey.
"When can we see her, mum?" Ginny asked, excitedly.
"Not just yet, dear. She only just woke up and we want her to rest. She needs to re-orient herself before we bombard her with visitors." Molly replied.
"How is she though, really?" Fred asked.
Arthur knew that his son didn't mean 'physically'. He sighed before replying, "we'll just have to wait and see."
Days went by – they all waited, and they all saw. Hermione was not ok. She didn't even have the energy to put up the façade that she wanted to. She made up her mind, 'they only wanted me back, they didn't say anything about me being who I once was.' She didn't "slip" into a depression, she was already in it – from the second that Minerva healed her, to the second she woke up. People were in and out, visiting her – sending their love. Hermione would muster a smile and a 'thank you', but that was it. She wasn't eating, and most of the time she sat on a chair next to one of the windows – looking outside with a longing to be free.
As the days went by, everyone became increasingly concerned. No matter how much convincing they tried – no one could get Hermione to eat, or to even really respond in any way. Poppy resorted to reinserting the IV into Hermione so she could get nourishment potions. Hermione didn't even flinch, didn't even look up when Poppy stuck the needle in. Afterwards, her arm fell limply to her side once again Hermione was lost. Visitors were once again restricted, and all they could do was look on helplessly.
Hermione was depressed, but she was also angry. Angry that she was forced back into this world – by the people she loved – like a square peg not fitting into a round hole. They were the selfish ones, she decided, not her. Hermione sat on the chair with her legs drawn up to her chest. She rested her chin on her knees and looked outside. Though everyone else thought she seemed catatonic, in reality Hermione could hear every word that they were saying. She just chose not to respond. She had nothing to say to anyone.
Everything looked different since before her attack. It looked as though she were looking at it from the wrong side – this is not where she belonged. She pursed her lips and was breathing hard in and out through her nose, feeling the anger overtake her. She narrowed her eyes and looked out at the bright, sunny world with hate and contempt.
"When you're hurt and scared for so long, the fear and pain turn to hate, and the hate starts to change the world. You're in your own limbo, and God is not here."
Because she was not responding, everyone on the other side of the curtain assumed that Hermione was "out", so to speak, and couldn't hear them. Though they spoke in hushed voices, Hermione pricked up her ears to listen in.
"Should we get Cedric?" Minerva asked. "Maybe he can reach her."
"I don't know." Poppy replied. "I am at loss as to what to do. This isn't physical anymore, it's mental. I don't know if Cedric would make things worse or not."
Hermione looked down. 'Cedric', she thought. He quite possibly be the only person she would be willing to speak to at this point. He wasn't involved in any of the decisions that everyone else seemed fine making without her.
Hermione was about to lay back down on the bed when she heard Tonks say, "What about the baby? Is she getting enough nutrition?"
"The IV should be providing adequate nutrition, but nothing takes the place of food. I wish she would eat. Maybe it's time that we tell her about it. Maybe she will take better care of herself if she knew." Poppy replied.
Hermione was dumbfounded. She couldn't take in what she had just heard. Everything in the world fell away as she passed out on the bed in shock.
It was the middle of the night when Hermione finally came to. She sat up and recalled what she heard only a few hours ago. She sat on the edge of the bed, feeling dizzy – she waited for the feeling to pass before getting up. She peeked around the curtain and saw that everyone was still in the room, but they were all sleeping on the infirmary beds. They must have talked long into the night before deciding to just stay there – that, or they had something they wanted to talk to her about in the morning. Whichever one it was, Hermione cared not. Though the thought didn't actually form in her mind, Hermione knew what she was going to do. She stood up quietly – all she had on was a tank top, plaid pajama bottoms and bare feet. Slowly she padded to the front of the infirmary. She walked to the side of Minerva's bed and picked up her wand, glaring down at her the whole time…