Chapter Eleven
Hermione's eyes felt heavy beneath the weight of her fatigue. She repressed a yawn, not wanting to show how absolutely exhausted she was. She blinked furiously as tears blurred her vision, the world around her becoming distorted blobs for a few moments. Today had been far more strenuous than she'd expected. She felt a deep shudder race down her spine, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end as her eyes danced across the front page story in the Daily Prophet. A rolling in her stomach coiled around a tight ball, threatening Hermione's meek lunch.
Olivia and Arthur Wood, Children of War Heroes Oliver Wood and Romilda Vane-Wood, Killed in Attack.
The two children, Olivia: 14, and Arthur: 17, were killed this morning in a riot outside of the Ministry of Magic. It is unknown who started the riot, but the Aurors believe that a group of Death Eaters who evaded persecution are to blame. Mercifully, the children's deaths were instantaneous, due to the killing curse. It is rumoured that the cause of this riot was to remind those involved in the war that it isn't over yet, not for the Death Eaters. If revenge is their motive, then it is recommended that all half-bloods and muggleborns leave England until the Death Eaters are caught.
Six people were killed in total. Sixteen are in critical condition. Twenty-four people were injured.
If you have any information involving any remaining Death Eaters who have yet to face their crimes, the Ministry asks you to come forward. There will be no charges against you, and you will be rewarded for your bravery. The office you are to go to is. . .
Hermione tore her eyes away from the page, a slight tremble wracking her delicate frame. She couldn't read anymore. She had believed the war was over, it had been three years of peace, and now that the remaining Death Eaters had done something as public as this proves that they were not going away for a while. A lump formed in her throat as she thought of the unfair treatment towards Half-Bloods and Muggleborns. She didn't understand why everyone couldn't just live in peace as they had been doing for the past couple of years.
As soon as she read the paper for the first time though, she didn't concern herself with thoughts of her own safety. No. Instead her mind drifted to the ex-Death Eater she had spent her night with. Her first thoughts were if he was aware of what had happened, but she laughed at her foolishness. Of course he knew. He couldn't run a business as powerful as his without being aware of all current events.
But then she wondered how he reacted to the news. Hermione knew that Malfoy used to be involved in their affairs. Would he know who started the riot? She knew that it was unlikely, but he probably knew who was and wasn't caught. But even if the blond did know, she doubted he would come forward.
He was probably being looked at by wary eyes as it was. She knew it was only a matter of time until the Malfoy's were dragged into the attack, simply because they were London's favorite family to gossip about. When Malfoy turned the company around, he became a celebrity. The slightest scandal was published in trashy gossip columns, and anything good was exaggerated to extreme degrees. She knew that this was the perfect opportunity to put the family back into the spotlight, and only time could tell if it would be positive or negative attention. Hermione guessed it would be the latter.
Hermione steeled her thoughts away from Malfoy, and back to her work. She sighed, rolling her head in an attempt to appease the tension that was knotted up and down her neck and shoulders. Her inner thighs were sore, and her bum was still tender. As much as she loved how rough Malfoy got yesterday, she could do without the 'day after' feeling.
Hermione groaned. She was thinking about Malfoy. Again.
She didn't know why it was so hard to focus, especially considering the severity of the attack at the Ministry. She had personally seen to all sixteen of the witches and wizards held in critical condition, and had helped heal all but four. The remaining four looked like mere shells of the people they once were. All of those four were hit by a cruciatus curse or an imperious. Hermione knew that one of the hardest decisions being a Healer, was to determine whether or not to end their misery. All of those four were now in the morgue.
Hermione tried not to think of her former classmate and boyfriend, Oliver, and how unbearably hard he must be taking the news. Both of his children, the two people he held most dear to his heart besides his wife, were gone. He didn't deserve to go through that pain. Nobody should have to go through the torment of losing both of their children. Her heart went out to him, only imagining a fraction of the loss he must feel. Hermione knew that she would go to the funeral.
"Miss Granger?" Smethwyck's voice echoed around the small room Hermione was sitting in. She raised her head, wondering why he was asking for her. She was on her break after all. She eyed his silvery patronus with a vague curiosity.
"Yes, sir?" She asked, rising from the hard plastic chair. Even a cushioning charm couldn't make them comfortable.
"I'm aware that it is your break, however patient 329 has gone into critical condition and I require your assistance." His voice ricocheted around her. The patronus disappeared, and Hermione sighed, reluctantly making her way towards the room.
As she walked along the busy corridor, her mind raced to piece together how their condition dropped so severely in the short span of time. Perhaps they had given the incorrect diagnosis, or his body had an allergic reaction to the new potion. She didn't know what the cause, but she was concerned. He had been one of the wizards barely scathed. He had a deep gash running down the length of his arm, so they had assumed that was the last of his injuries. Maybe there was something inside of his body that they never bothered to check? Hermione didn't know. And not knowing was terrifying her.
As soon as she passed into the small room, she was surprised by the sheer amount of healers crowded within its walls. How severe was his case exactly?
"Miss Granger, there you are." Smethwyck gave her a glare as though to ask what took her so long. In her defense, she had come to the room in less than two minutes.
"What's wrong with him, sir?" She asked walking up to the bed.
As her eyes fell upon the patient her eyes widened. A gasp escaped her mouth as a bout of nausea rolled within the pit of her stomach. His skin had darkened from its light olive to a strange shade of grey. His teeth were rotting rapidly, the inside of his mouth blackening with every passing second. His hair had lightened from its inky black to a silvery white. Clumps of it were falling out at a time, showing his balding scalp. Blue veins stuck out prominently beneath the thin skin, and throbbed slowly with the beating of his heart. His eyes were closed, and Hermione was silently grateful. She didn't think she'd want to know what his eyes looked like.
"What the hell caused this?" She demanded, unaware that such a rapid deterioration was possible.
"At the moment, we are unaware. We were hoping that you would have come across something like this in your reading." One of the older mediwitches replied before going back to casting spell after spell to prevent the decaying of his body any further. So Hermione was only wanted for her obsession with reading. She could get over that as long as it helped out the patient. She wracked her brain trying to remember anything from the Medical Journals she read so extensively. She had a feeling that it would be useless to try to remember. Nothing like this had ever come up, and if it had, she would've remembered the cure to something this severe.
"I'm sorry, I've never heard of anything like this." Hermione said at last, a feeling of weight pressing down upon her petite shoulders. She felt completely and utterly useless. She didn't know how to help him, she didn't know what the fuck was happening to him.
She hated not knowing. It was killing her.
"We're going to have to decide whether or not it's worth the trouble to save him." Smethwyck said at last. Hermione felt her body tense with a livid rigidness. While she knew the Healer hadn't meant that to sound so insensitive, she couldn't help but be appalled by his wording.
"It's worth it to try to save him. It will always be worth it. It's just a matter of figuring out the cure. If we see this again, we will know how to treat it as opposed to killing them." Hermione argued immediately. She could tell her mentor didn't want to save the man, and Hermione couldn't help but be disgusted by his utter apathy. She seriously questioned why he went into the medical profession if he didn't want to save every patient he came across.
"While I agree, Miss Granger, I feel that this is far beyond us. There's a very slim chance he will survive even with our attempts to prevent his death." Smethwyck glared at her. Hermione balked. How could he say such a thing?
"So you want to walk away? You want to give up?" Hermione couldn't believe it. What the hell was Smethwyck doing as a Healer?
"By all means, Miss Granger, if you wish to tire yourself by attempting to save a lost cause, then go ahead. I will not stop you. Just don't expect my assistance in your noble endeavor." With those last words, Healer Smethwyck walked out of the room. Hermione, along with all of the other healers and mediwitches, stared at the empty doorway, as though expecting the bastard to walk back in with a changed heart and mind. She knew just how unlikely that was. To her utmost dismay, a few of the less experienced healers left the room as well, following in their mentors footsteps. A dead silence fell upon the room.
Hermione turned away from the door, immediately beginning to cast every healing spell and charm she could think of. No one else turned to help. But no one left either. All either stared at the young witch with a curiosity or strange inquiry, yet none stepped forward to assist her.
It had been three hours. One hundred and eighty minutes of a grueling torture that screamed of a hopelessness that Hermione did everything in her power to ignore.
The patient hadn't woken up. Hermione didn't need this stress. Not right now, not ever. She was exhausted beyond belief, and had wracked her brain for every healing spell that she could cast. Nothing had worked. She didn't want to believe Smethyck was right, that he was a lost cause. He was still a wizard, still a person. Regardless of if he was conscious or bordering on the edge of death, he was still living and breathing right now, and Hermione wanted to do everything in her power to keep it that way.
She sat down in the chair besides the bed, resting her weary feet for a moment. She rested her forehead on her fingers, slowly massaging her temples in soothing circles to appease her growing headache.
Thud. . . . . . . .Thud. . . . .Thud. . .Thud
Hermione's head swung up as she looked at the man for a long moment with wide eyes. She had cast a charm on him a few hours ago to help hear his heart while she worked on his body. So far it had been beating only twice in a minute, making Hermione convinced he was on the verge of death. But this, this was amazing! She sprung up from her chair, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. She held her wand horizontal over his body, green sparks flying out of the tip. She checked his heart first, now unused to the more regular sound of his heartbeat. He was still hardly breathing, but she wasn't expecting miracles, just progress. Upon closer inspection, his skin had revived some of its lost color, tinting him a sallow light olive. She turned around and made her way to the door to tell the other healers. She had done it! She had really helped revive him!
A hand clamped down around her wrist in an iron grip, halting her walk. Eyes wide, she looked back at the patient, only to be met with the level glare coming from deep pools of crimson. His eyes had gone completely red, the whites a stained color with a tinge of yellow. His upper lip was pulled back in a menacing snarl.
Come on Granger, you can do this. Calm him down. You've faced worse before. Remember Ron? Yeah, you can do this.
"Sir, I need you to calm down. My name is Healer Granger. I'm here to help you." she said in her most calm yet authoritative tones. He didn't listen, instead he put his other hand near her elbow. She was about to demand he let go when he bit into her.
A white-hot, blinding pain shot through Hermione quicker than she could comprehend. A scream wrenched itself out of her reluctant throat, echoing in the small room. It burned unlike anything she'd ever experienced. In its own right, it was as bad as a cruciatus curse. It felt as though her blood was boiling in her veins.
Her wits coming back to her, she grabbed her wand.
"Stupefy!" She screamed, watching in horror as his body completely shut down. He collapsed to the floor, landing in a heap of flesh and bones. His body was contorted at odd angles and was still for a few moments. The charm she had placed to enable her to hear his heart ended.
He was dead.
It was all Hermione could do to find a Healer and relay what had just happened. The healer had taken one look at the young witch and immediately placed her in her own room. She wasn't protesting though. The day had been long and taxing, and she felt the oddest sensation overcome her. She just wanted sleep.
"Who do you want me to contact?" The healer asked her. It was a nice gesture, but unnecessary. Hermione tried to tell him this, but he wouldn't listen.
"Draco Malfoy." She muttered at last. The healer gave her an odd look before acquiescing. As soon as he left, Hermione surrendered herself to the siren call of sleep. She didn't even pause to wonder why she had said Malfoy's name.