Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.
Chapter 68
The doe and fawn had made Harry Potter go through a trail of emotions, which he used to visit while growing up at Private Drive. He used to call it acute longing. The doe had discreetly rubbed its body against him and the fawn was nothing less of a sibling trying to engage him in a game of tug and chase. They played upon his envy on the Weasleys. But beyond that, they screamed of Hermione and his mother, whose caress he could not recall. The full group animal had tugged at his hair and butted its head with his own, after making Snape smile again and again with its endearing way of comforting the man.
After all these years Severus Snape's confession had made him feel weightless. Several things struck home. The doe, the fawn, the music recorder, Snape's stitched up dress, this cute portrait was a way to bring them together. Hermione wanted him to accept Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape wholeheartedly, forgoing the previous animosity. She also wanted him to accept her even if she was born out of wedlock. Looking at the portrait fondly he thought to himself, he had spent the best time of his life knowing this girl, and there was no power in this world and beyond which could make him called Hermione as Illegitimate. She was always and will forever be his sister. And Malfoy, the smarting git, scowling against the wall was already a redeemed man in Harry James Potter's books.
He didn't know much about the language of flowers, but of course, he could understand genuine regret written all over the proud man's face. Snape did qualify as a guardian angel. A man he could muster the courage to call as a father, in years to come perhaps.
Feeling self-conscious the man who killed Voldemort twice took Snape's hand in both of his own and held on it firmly. "Sir, you have nothing to apologize for, I am alive, in fact, we all are alive and Voldemort is dead because you did everything to protect all of us. I was not prepared for the class that day."
The headmaster was quick to come to his defense," And that cannot be an excuse for my horrid behaviour. I shouldn't have...I wish I could undo so many things…"
Potter interjected," And I wish you hadn't well of course, I can trade several of those detentions with Malfoy, any day," waving at the blonde man off-handedly, who jumped up and snarled," only if you can gift me an equal number of snitches at the end of those Gryffindor against Slytherin games, on a silver platter."
A burst of giggles from behind them made them end their playful banter. The girl in the portrait had started twirling, sprinting, and running around the field. Then stopping right at the surface of the painting, still panting hard she says, "Oh! How glad I am to hear it at last." poking her tongue out at Draco, she replied sniffily," In your dreams, in your dreams, don't you know anything about Lion's share?" Draco's teasing smirk and a soft, "Hey!" had made the girl blush horribly.
Harry couldn't help himself but ask," The portrait is so like the Gryffindor's House Portrait." To which the girl had nodded enthusiastically, "Oh, yes. I took inspiration from the Fat Lady." playing with the hem of her summer frock, she added,"and I also wondered what it would be like to be in Ravenclaw, so that knocker."
Snape narrowed his eyes watching the young man speaking to the portrait and running his thoughts over those clues they had come across so far. He asked, studying the salient features of the portrait," I?"
The girl had bit her lips, and looked back at him," And I am not Hermione's magical energy preserved in some way if that is what you are wondering Sir. I am her innocence. I am not her Horcrux. So don't worry. But it did give her a way to fragment her mind. In order to protect everything she cared for the most." a second past and the three of them saw tears falling down her eyes. Sniffing only again, she brought her palms up and touched the surface of the painting and blew over it. The door vibrated on its hinges and the portrait shimmered off. A piece of paper floated over Harry's head and he caught it. Giving it a quick look, he held it out for Snape and said," I think you should keep it."
It was a muggle photo of Hermione Granger when she was about four years old. According to the date print. It was taken up some mountain slopes among fields of wildflowers. The portrait's magical voice filled the corridor once again, touching the three wizards with warmth and care, "Please, please enter."
With that, the door clicks open.
Miles away, in the bowels of the only wizardry hospital of Magical Britain, Astrid Norman along with her interning healers, watched those ghostly wraiths of Knights of the Undead, kneel around the young woman sleeping fitfully on the single hospital bed through the glass barrier. A sheen of black curdling smoke hovered over her torso. But her vitals were something else. One of the interns, Jonas looked quizzically at the readings and exclaimed," She is in pain, but then she is not in pain, how on Merlin's pants, that's possible?"
The Head Healer's eyes were glued on her patient and a rare smile on her lips making her look less formidable. Without even turning her face, he replied," That is possible on occasions when we are overwhelmed. Miss Granger is dreaming or experiencing, or imagining, or thinking about something extraordinary and that is making her react in the said way. Come closer and look for yourselves."
As the group watched from the other side, one of the wraiths titled its head and took notice of it. As of Hermione Granger, she was fast asleep. Both at times, she sighed, and then her lips twisted into innocent smiles. She also gasped and blushed profusely.
Liza turned to Seamus as they reached the entrance door of the Speciality ward. Putting her hand over his arm, she smiled coyly and whispered," Thank you for being there, for me, ,' standing on her toes, she gave him a kiss on his reddened cheek and slipped inside the ward. Finnigan nodded at the flapping door and the old doorman, Goldrang grinned and winked at him. But neither of them took notice of a rather large beetle at the foot of the door mat's chair, turtle-turned, twisting on its shell, wriggling its many legs helplessly.