A/N: I would've posted this last week if I was allowed to have a computer while I was stuck in the hospital, but obviously I wasn't so... Reviewers are awesome. You all should review more.
Trisagian: I read your review and was just like "GAH!, NO!" when I realized my stupid mistake. See, that's what happens when I proof read my chapters at 1 a.m. on a school day... I'll get around to fixing it at some point, I promise. As to Bellatrix's evilness, she will become less sane as the story progresses, you can count on it.
(Hermione's POV)
I've been in the hospital wing for at least a full day, the majority of which I spent unconscious and completely unaware of my surroundings. From the sound of the voices in the room, I've determined that Harry and Ron are here with Headmistress McGonagall, being entirely unprofessional by discussing my condition in front of me. I suppose I can't blame me; they still assume that I'm unconscious.
I have been lying here with my eyes closed for the past hour, trying to discern how serious this situation is. Not my situation, rather the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts. So far, all I've heard are anxious and impatient remarks about my health from Ron, and assurances of revenge from Harry. I keep hearing bits and pieces of their conversation, how the horcrux was in Harry's possession without him knowing about it, how Bellatrix managed to get into the school undetected.
Someone's stroking the back of my hand. I can feel Ron's coarse fingertips as they skid tenderly across the exposed flesh on my wrist. His fingernail accidentally scrapes against a patch of scar tissue and I try to stifle a gasp as a jolt of pain shoots up my arm. Unfortunately, I discern that Harry must have heard me because he's calling my name and shaking my shoulder to provoke a further reaction.
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"Hermione?" Harry looked over at the girl laying unconscious in the bed in front of him, his eyes searching her form frantically for any sign that she had heard him. "Hermione?" he asked again, louder this time, touching her shoulder.
Hermione flinched under his touch and tried to move away from his hand, finding only that the movement caused her more pain than she was prepared to endure. Her heavy eyelids parted and allowed her to adjust her vision to the blurry figures of Ron, Harry and Headmistress McGonagall standing on the side of her bed. Where is everyone else, she wondered briefly.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice deep and raspy. She slowly raised a hand to her throat, a simple action that provoked a substantial amount of pain. It felt as if someone had drained the blood from her veins and replaced it with a molten liquid. Hermione clenched her jaw to prevent herself from crying out, breathing slowly and deeply as she tried to massage the aching muscles in her neck. Asking Harry, "what happened?" seemed more like a formality than a desire to know the answer. She remembered what had happened, she remembered every moment of it. The bodies, the torture, the mind-numbing pain. The memories that plagued her mind were as clear and as vivid as the three people that stood before her now. But she had to hear it from someone else in order to reassure herself that the events really happened, in order to convince herself that she would not wake up tomorrow and walk downstairs to find a common room bustling with students, happy and full of life.
Harry bit his lip and frowned slightly. "Ron, could you give us a minute?" he asked in a tone which suggested that "no" was not a possible answer.
Ron nodded and gave a brief half-smile to Hermione before turning and exiting the room.
Harry sighed and looked to McGonagall for support. She nodded, permitting him to speak. "Last night, Bellatrix Lestrange led a group of Death Eaters in an attack on the school, more specifically Gryffindor House. Her target wasn't me, it was a horcrux that I apparently had in my possession," Harry paused to allow the impact of the words sink in and took a deep breath. "My dad's invisibility cloak, the one Dumbledore gave me. Apparently, it wasn't really the one that had belonged to my father after all, rather a horcrux that Dumbledore secretly placed in my possession," Harry looked down at the floor, appearing slightly ashamed as he divulged this detail. Hermione looked up at him expectantly. "Voldemort ordered Bellatrix to retrieve it, and she did... but not without annihilating most of our House in the process."
Hermione swallowed hard and clenched her eyes shut, unable to look Harry in the face anymore. This was what she had expected to hear, a summarization of what had happened and why it had occurred. Her friends were dead. Killed by Death Eaters, with no clear intention other than to cause as much pain as possible to the students who were fortunate enough to avoid death. Her closed eyelids formed a barrier, forbidding her tears to fall. I can't break down in front of him, I can't.. not now.
His gaze fell reluctantly on Hermione's face as he added, "I should have been here to stop it. I should have known Snape would lie to us. That bastard. It was part of Bellatrix's plan all along, just another plot to lure me away and then..." Harry paused to compose himself and as Hermione looked back up at him, she could tell he was fighting back tears.
"Harry," she said weakly, "there is no way you could have anticipated this. He was a reliable informant, you had every reason to trust him."
He shook his head slowly, "I completely disregarded my instincts. I knew he couldn't be trusted, I've always known." Harry looked down at her and shrugged his shoulders indifferently, "We shouldn't talk about this now. Not when you're..."
Hermione nodded and swallowed hard. She felt the tears threatening to fall again despite her resolution not to cry. It wasn't Harry's fault. It could never be Harry's fault. Her injuries and the deaths of the other students were her fault alone. If I had walked into the common room earlier, none of this would have happened. My friends wouldn't be dead and I wouldn't be on the receiving end of everyone's pity.
Minutes passed before Harry cleared his throat. "Look, I don't know how much you saw, or what happened to you at all really, but you need to know that..." he trailed off and began staring at the floor again, as if the rest of his statement lie trapped beneath the porcelain floor tiles of the hospital wing.
She looked up at him with concern, immediately getting the impression that he was withholding information from her. "Harry, what is it?" Before the words left her mouth, she feared the worst. The thought struck her with a blow worse than any Bellatrix had inflicted that night in the common room: "Ginny," the name escaped her lips before she had the chance to stop herself. "Where is she, is she alright?" The fear was evident in her eyes as they darted back and forth between Harry and McGonagall, searching for an explanation, anything from either one of them. "Harry, please," she pleaded with him, her voice cracking on the second word.
He shook his head and clenched his teeth, allowing his gaze to return to the floor once again. The Headmistress stepped towards Hermione's bed and placed a hand on the railing that lined the side. "Ms. Granger," McGonagall began formally, "what you fail to understand is that the Death Eaters, under the direction of Bellatrix Lestrange, are accustomed to using alternative methods of torture that do not involve solely physical pain." She paused and furrowed her brow, "From what Madame Pomfrey has told me, it is reasonable to assume that Ginny Weasley, though she is alive and safe for the time being, was subject to some type of severe mental torture. She is currently in a state of shock."
She didn't know what to say, what to think. So many thoughts converged on her mind at the same time that it was impossible to hear any singular thought at once. Several long seconds passed and one thought resounded in her mind, louder and more forceful than the others: She's alive. Ginny's alive. The knot in the center of her chest loosened slightly, but the thought alone did nothing to assuage her guilt. "Where is she?" Hermione pleaded with the Headmistress, "I need to see her."
McGonagall nodded, sadness and pity displayed clearly across her face. She moved soundlessly towards the hospital bed to Hermione's right, one with the curtain drawn around all sides. Slowly, she pulled back the curtain to reveal Ginny Weasley sleeping quietly in the midst of a pile of tangled bed sheets. Her brilliant red hair was matted and stuck to the sweat that lined the sides of her face. "She was raving when Harry and Ron brought her in," McGonagall explained quietly. "Madame Pomfrey sedated her, she will not wake for several hours."
Hermione nodded, not knowing what to say. Ginny had been tortured and it was all her fault. I should have been there, protecting her. I should have followed her down the stairs. Seeing Ginny lying there, she fought against the urge to spring from her bed and throw both of her arms around the younger girl, to comfort her and never to let go.
Sensing the guilt that played over in Hermione's mind, McGonagall rested a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Hermione, I know how difficult this may be for you, but I need you to tell Madame Pomfrey exactly what happened to you that night. She needs to be sure of your injuries in order to administer the proper treatment, you understand," McGonagall said softly and tenderly as if she were speaking to a young child. Hermione nodded blankly, just barely processing the information. "We'll give you some privacy," the Headmistress added before walking towards the door and out of the wing with Harry following her reluctantly.
She nodded and acknowledged Madame Pomfrey's presence as she sat down at her bedside with a quill and a scrap of parchment. Hermione recited the events of the attack with no trace of emotion in her voice. What had happened still seemed so surreal; it was as if she was telling the story of someone else. I'm still in shock, she reasoned, I need a few more days to let all of this sink in. She finished recalling the events leading to her injuries and Madame Pomfrey nodded, muttered something about giving her a series of potions in the morning and then departed in the direction of her office.
The entire conversation with Harry and McGonagall was a blur. She found herself doubting some of the things that were said, trying desperately to discern what was fact and what she was not being told. Her mind wasn't working properly. Every time she tried to think about the attack, to think back to her earlier conversation, thoughts of Ginny took hold of her mind and refused to let go. Glancing once again at Ginny's limp form, Hermione fought hard to keep the tears from falling. It's all my fault, I could have saved her. It's all my fault.
Only when she was absolutely sure that Madame Pomfrey was in her office and of earshot did she finally allow herself to cry. Stifled, nearly silent sobs wracked her body and made her shake uncontrollably as her tears flowed freely, drenching her face and seeping slowly into her pillow. It was impossible for her to tell whether minutes or hours had passed before exhaustion consumed her body and allowed her to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A/N: I don't like this chapter; I personally think I could've written it better. Oh well. I hope you choose to read more because the plot will only get more interesting from here. And reviewing only makes me update faster, so...