Chapter 7
He wanted to shoot her a grin- planned on it really- but his stomach got the better of him as he threw up again.
All over Hermione.
And then he was on his knees, the world twirling around him like a demented merry go 'round on speed. He heard a voice, vaguely...
Then it all went black.
HP-BaB-HP
Hermione Granger found herself frantic.
Calm down. Think rationally Hermione! She chided herself as she knelt by the prone form of Harry Potter. Panicking would do neither of them any good. But Harry was just lying there! She'd never seen him as anything but fierce and determined. Hell, it seemed that no matter what sort of trouble they managed to get into Harry just shook it off.
Even when he was injured he just disappeared for a few hours, and when he materialized he'd be right as rain again.
He'd never been to the infirmary in his entire school career.
So it was completely justifiable that Hermione was panicking.
Finally some sense seemed to kick in and she cast a quick mobillicorpus on the unconcious boy, immediately heading for the infirmary and Madame Pomfrey's cool professionalism.
The castle seemed to feel her urgency, for all of the staircases aligned themselves to form the quickest way to her destination. When the doors of the infirmary appeared, she felt like crying in relief.
She burst through the doors as though the hounds of hell were on her heels.
"Madame Pomfrey! Help!"
The sound of hurried footsteps sounded near the nurse's office and soon the older lady came into sight.
"Miss Granger! This is a hosp- oh my! What is this?" The nurse gasped as she took in the sight of the girl covered in sick, trailing an unconcious brunette boy behind her.
"I don't know Madame! He... he wasn't looking well. I don't think he was eating or sleeping, I could tell he wasn't well so I took him to the kitchens to eat something and when he came out he threw up and then he passed out!" Hermione gasped desperately.
By this time the nurse had taken over the levitating spell and put Harry on a bed, her wand humming as she ran diagnostic spells on him.
"I need his name Miss Granger."
"Harry- Harry Potter."
The nurse made a sound of surprise, but didn't stop her diagnostics. Hermione fretted in the corner.
"Oh, Madame, will he be alright, I mean, this is all my fault I should have brought him earlier! I mean I saw that he wasn't eating and that he looked all tired and thin and..."
"Miss Granger- I need to concentrate and you need a shower before dinner. Go to your House and clean yourself girl."
"But..."
"Now Miss Granger."
"Yes ma'am." Hermione sighed as she left. She hardly knew where she was going. She was so distracted that she started when the Fat Lady asked her for the password.
She managed to somehow remember it, and so was let into her common room where the boys were sitting laughing.
"What the...? Hermione, you stink! Is that vomit? Ew." Typical Ron- insensitive as always.
"Yes."
"Well go shower. That smell makes me want to vomit."
Hermione needed no encouragement. She hurried up the stairs and into her room. Collecting a clean uniform she stepped into the bathroom. Lavender was doing her make-up, but she turned when Hermione came in and made a face.
"Ewww. What happened to you?"
"Harry... He collapsed."
"What? Why?" Lavender looked worried.
"I don't know. Madame Pomfrey is busy trying to find out, so she chased me out."
"Damn. Well, get showered I suppose. We'll check up on him after dinner."
"Are you going to tell the HWA?"
"No need. I'm sure Li Sue already knows."
"... What? How?"
"Tsk. You should know by now that Li knows everything."
"Oh."
"Get showered Hermione. Dinner's soon"
"Yes. Yes I suppose I should."
With a sigh Hermione turned on the shower, and began undressing throwing her soiled uniform into the laundry basket. When she was completely naked and certain that the water was warm enough she stepped under the spray.
She reached distractedly for the body wash and lathered it onto her loofah. She ran the loofah across her skin, over the swell of her breasts and her hips, her now lobster red skin being cleaned of the vomit and being replaced with the sweet smell of her strawberry body wash.
She worried about Harry the whole time.
When she finally stepped out of the shower the entire bathroom was steamed up. She wrapped a towel around her body and cleared a spot in the mirror, taking time to look at herself.
She looked like hell.
It almost made her reconsider Lavender's offer of a make-over. Almost. She just couldn't see herself with make-up on. She'd feel even more awkward than she already did. Her frizzy hair was just... part of her. Not to mention the fact that her time was better spent studying.
She had her brains, she didn't need to look good.
But oh, how she wished that she did. She wished to look good enough to catch Ron's eye. But no, she was just 'one of the boys'. Just the girl who did their homework and set up their study schedules and nagged at them to be safe, not to so anything stupid.
Hermione Granger was just a brain.
With short, heavy legs and too much puppy fat. Or at least she hoped it was puppy fat. Compared to the rest of the girls who roamed the halls of Hogwarts she was honestly not worth any boy's noptice.
No use complaining about it.
At least she had her brain.
HP-BaB-HP
Poppy Pomfrey regarded her patient with a trained healer's eye.
The boy was skeletally thin, and it got worse when she spelled him out of his clothes, allowing only a part of dignity to remain in tact as she had placed a towel over his most private parts.
The whir of her wand was the only sound in the room.
Taking in his body, she could see that the boy was thinner than could be seen through his school robes. But she could also see that if he was healthy he would have had quite the body, the remnants of hard musclular planes were clear to see.
Also plain to see was his collection of tattoos.
They were immediately confirmed by her diagnostics to be protective tattoos, with charms weaved into the pictures.
Some were more basic than others. Obviously as his knowledge of charms grew.
Impressive.
Poppy set to work cataloging them in his file. A Chinese style dragon circled his body, starting just below his belly button and swirling around his back with its head coming to rest finally just below his right collar bone. His left arm had tribal tattoo circling his bicep, and kanji on the inside of his wrist. His right arm bore a picture of a samurai, and another tribal design- this time of a tiger- was on his right side. When she turned him around she say the picture of a cherry blossom tree in delicate colours.
That was a lot of tattoos, she thought. What did the boy need that much protection for?
The chime of completed diagnostics from her wand brought her out of her reverie. Reading the results she breathed a sigh of relief.
It wasn't all that bad.
HP-BaB-HP
Daphne Greengrass was worried.
Harry wasn't at dinner. She wrung her hands together, unable to keep herself from fidgeting. Where was he? He knew they were supposed to always be present at meals. Professor Snape looked distinctly disgruntled- undoubtedly having noticed Harry's absence.
She caught Li Sue putting the final touches on a paper griffin. Said griffin was then sent on its way to the Slytherin table, caught effortlessly by Tracey. The girl in question deftly opened the magical note, squinted at the girl who had sent it over and, after receiving a shrug from said sender, turned a thoughtful look on Daphne.
There was something wrong with Harry.
The certainty hits her as soon as Tracey's eyes moved to give her that thoughtful stare. She stood up so quickly that she managed to upset several people's dinners- and attract the attention of a certain Head of House... or two.
She was just lifting her second leg over the bench, hell bent on getting to Harry, when common sense (and Professor Snape's glare) kicked in and she was forcefully dragged back down by Millie and Pansy.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Pansy hissed at her.
"Let go! Harry's in trouble!"
"Oh, really, it took you an entire dinner to figure that out?" The other girl snarked at her.
"... What? No! But Tracey-!"
"So you could wait three quarters of Dinner Time, but her getting a badly folded gryffin sets you off? I mean, I get pissed about poorly folded letters too- honestly, sometimes I swear my house elf is out to make a laughing stock of me- but that's hardly a reason to go haring off now."
"At the very least think about the consequences from the Professor." Millie added.
"Hm, yeah. Think of the consequences, Greengrass." Tracey's voice was so close, so suddenly that the other three girls whipped around in shock to see her sitting next to Mille- a full five seats closer than she had previously been sitting- and slowly licking the remains of her ice cream from a spoon.
"... Tracey! What's going on? What's wrong with Harry?" Daphne nearly strangled the other girl in her haste to hear what she knew.
Tracey merely dodged the other girl, before sitting back and taking a good look at her. "I don't know."
"WHAT?" The other three girls exclaimed.
"When dinner started the nurse was still running diagnostics on him. All we know is that he collapsed... and Granger took him to the nurse."
"Granger." Millie ground out, cracking her knuckles.
"Yep. Granger. Which puts her at a clear- if somewhat unfair- advantage." Tracey grinned at them. "Sad, really, since she has no chance with the boy..."
"Advantage?" Millie asked, confusion clear in her voice.
"She's talking about the fact that Madame Pomfrey will be more likely to give information to Granger than to other girls who just... crawl out of the woodwork." Daphne snapped.
"Indeed... Of course, the girl- or girls, as the case may be- who crawl out first may full well be able to convince the nurse that their social circle may overlap with Potter's on more than one instance..."
"That they're his girlfriend, Millie." Daphne forestalled the other girl's question.
"Exactly."
"So why are you pointing this out to us? I mean, Pansy and I can figure that much out by ourselves." Daphne asked her uneasily.
"Yes- but so can every other single, desperate girl in here."
A glance around the Great Hall showed a large percentage of the female- and gay- population was in fact gearing up for a quick getaway.
"... And you're bringing this to our attention because...?"
"Because I need a date for that fucking ball, and I'll be damned if I end up going with someone who doesn't fit at least ninety percent of my 'Perfect' criteria."
"... That seems a tad bit..." Daphne looks at Pansy uncertainly.
"Bat-shit-crazy-and-fucking-impossible." Pansy says simply.
"Maybe. But the point is- I need time to find a worthwhile date. And while Potter's on the market, all the other girls will be chasing 'Mister Impossible'. That gives me time to find the right guy."
"So you want me to..." Daphne asked, her eyes wide.
"I want you to play Potter."
"What?" Daphne yelped, and Millie loomed over her in a threatening manner.
"Oh, please. I'm not asking for broken hearts here. But if you promise me to stay out of the game for a month- one month- then I have a decent window to find my date. And in exchange, I can guarantee that you'll be the first people out of that door. Deal?"
Daphne shot an uncertain look at the two other girls, before nodding in agreement.
"Right, get into positions. I'll make sure the doors are blocked worse than that time Draco decided to drink the draught that Longbottom made..."
There was a collective wince from the Slytherin table, followed by a very red Draco reminding Tracey that they'd all vowed their silence on that particular tale.
Daphne smiled at the familiarity of her Housemates, before she turned to Millie. They both gave jerky nods and headed for the part of the table closest to the door, their housemates shifting with subtlety that would never grace the Gryffindor table, and stood at the ready.
A general scuffle alerted them to the Headmaster's departure- which also signaled the end of dinner.
Daphne shot for the doors like a hyppogriff on the tail of a scent, Millie close behind her and subtly strong-arming the other girls in the race.
This is ridiculous- there's just no way that Tracey will be able to get us a lead in the race, never mind letting us win it!
But just as Daphne gave up hope- the sight of Longbottom and his cronies shuffling people out of their way with Granger nicely nestled amongst them tended to do that to seasoned optimists, and Daphne was no optimist- she heard a collective gasp and then...
"Oi, Longbottom. Fitting name- seeing as how Gryffindors are the Slytherins' bitches... Take it up the ass like the girl you are!" Tracey bellowed, before promptly hitting him in the face with what Daphne knew to be a dildo.
Wow. That girl has balls... or has she thrown them at him? The thought never got the chance to coalesce and take root because then Millie was there- the only barrier between the petite Daphne and being crushed by the angry, laughing, churning sea that the after dinner crowd had become.
And then they were free- a gasp of fresh air before a strong grip on her arm reminds her that this is still a race.
The pounding of her feet deafen her ears to external noises and she vaguely remembers that she hadn't continued her fitness regime in the post-Quidditch-ban slump which had claimed a great chunk of her normally spirited personality.
But it was back with a vengeance now.
Because no, it wasn't flying, but the wind (less ferocious) wind was still in her hair and there was still something at stake here and Tracey, as usual, had had her back. And she and Millie were there, sprinting down corridors and flushed faced and panting as though they hadn't had that fight.
It was something worth fighting for.
Suddenly the hospital wing's doors loomed in front of the two girls and Daphne closed her eyes, bracing for impact. But Millie hit them first and they opened with ease, she then put out an arm to stop Daphne, pulling her to a sudden halt.
"Good Merlin! What is this?" The school nurse asked as she came bustling through the door of her office with a tray of potions in tow.
"Madame Pomfrey! We're here to see Harry! Because apparently he collapsed and..." Daphne bit her lip, her green eyes going wide. Millie put a supportive arm around her shoulder. It was perhaps a bit tight, but that was beside the point.
"Ah, yes, Mister Potter! Now, poor dear, if I see one more girl looking quite so stricken by his bedside I might just have to say that he begins to bear some resemblance to his late father. Still- no need to worry Miss...?"
"Greengrass! And Bullstrode."
"Well then, you two can go and tell Miss Granger this as well, Mister Potter will be fine." The nurse smiled at the two as she opened the only pair of curtains that had been closed. Daphne and Millie both gasped as they finally saw the sallow face of their friend.
"Are you sure he'll be all right?" Millie asked suspiciously.
"Of course! My dear cousin Edward had it. Lovely boy really, despite his love of setting my hair on fire. I should probably write to him, he's a curse breaker in Afghanistan you know, perfectly healthy. Haven't had someone die from it in a millenia. And that was only because people were a bit superstitious back then..."
"But what's wrong with him?" Daphne asked, holding his hand.
"Oh, yes, that. It's simply magicus manifestus- or magic manifesting."
The two girls gave her blank stares.
"Ah, well. Generally, witches and wizards have magical cores that grow with them, so they become larger and stronger as the people grow."
"That's why you learn certain spells at certain ages, isn't it?" Daphne asked.
"Indeed- Hogwarts follows the Ravenclaw-Slytherin curriculum, where children learn spells according to a very broad spectrum of where their magical cores should be at the beginning and end of a school year, so the magical core is stretched as much as has been proven safe by clinical trials. It was all rather cutting edge- still is you know."
"That's why Hogwarts is so prestigious, then?" Millie asked.
"Indeed- it completely revolutionized the education system. Before Rowena Ravenclaw's research the idea of a school as large as Hogwarts simply did not seem feasible... But-"
"But what does this have to do with Harry?" Daphne asked impatiently.
"Oh, right. Well, there is a single percentage of all wizards and witches who experience a very rare phenomenon. This phenomenon occurs when the person in question's magical core expands rapidly enough to leave the rest of the person's body behind. Effectively causing the person tho have to grow into their magical core."
"... So it's kind of like an epic magical growth spurt?" Millie asked.
"Well, I suppose you could put it that way." The nurse sniffed.
"So- he'll be okay?" Daphne ventured.
"Indeed. All he needs is some good, uninterrupted sleep to get him through the more painful stages of the manifestation along with some rather excellent nutritional potions... all in all he should be awake within the next week."
"And out of hospital?"
"That will depend on how quickly he can learn to control his new magic. After all- his magic will have increased at least a hundred fold."
"A hundred fold?" Daphne gaped.
"Well, yes. Mister Potter here will definitely be in the upper magical percentile of the world when he awakens. After all, if he could reach his magical potential by simply growing with this he wouldn't have to go through this. It is a sign of great magical prowess- Merlin himself is said to have endured the Magicus Manifestus."
"But your cousin Edward...?"
"A ground breaking curse breaker. His employers sing his praises like little birds."
"Oh."
"The point is that even so, Mister Potter shouldn't be here for more than a month. But now- he must sleep! So off with you two, go tell all of your friends. Shoo!"
And before they could properly protest the two girls found themselves staring at the closed doors of the hospital wing.
"So? Is he going to die?"
"Does he have consumption?"
"Wh-? WHAT THE HELL!" Daphne shouted as she turned to see Angelina and Katie standing against the corridor wall.
"You heard us: is he going to die? We're hoping it's of consumption, because that's what the female leads in operas like La Traviata and so forth die of. Oh- and don't even get me started on Mouli-"
"HAVE YOU NO DECENCY? MY FRIEND IS IN THERE! AT LEAST ACT LIKE IT BOTHERS YOU!"
"... Uhm. We just wanted to know- a tragically dying date is just so romantic." Katie shrugged.
"And, you know, there isn't even the possibility of the two of you getting a happily ever after so you don't get your hopes up and then have them dashed." Angelina nodded.
"You make me sick! Get away! Get the fuck away from here!"
"Woah- chill girlfriend! We're here to get the scoop, yeah..."
"But we're also here to give you sage words of advice."
"What the fuck could you say that would ever be useful." Daphne spat.
Katie and Angelina shared a look.
"Look, girl, if you want the man..."
"... You gotta flirt like a slut."
"... Excuse me?" Daphne asked, completely flabbergasted.
"You heard us. Now we gotta go tell the girls that he isn't dying. Unfortunately. It had such potential as a tragic love tale..." Angelina said as she walked away.
Katie meanwhile grinned at Daphne and mouthed 'like a slut' at her before following her friend.
The two Slytherin girls simply stared after them, dumbstruck.
"Uhm, Mills...?"
"Yeah?"
"How do you flirt like a slut?"
HP-BaB-HP
A/N: -Ducks behind her desk- I know it's late! But the break up and then the fact that I managed to, in my muddled state, delete the eighteen chapters that I had written prior to this instead of the old C++ programs from last semester I had been trying to delete (I could only afford a measly 250GB HDD) and the horror that is organic chemistry and... yeah. It hasn't been a good time.
Still- thank you SO much for all of your support. Your reviews and your insights, your questions and your namecalling my ex, and all of those faves and 'update soon!'s mean the world to me. Please don't stop!
A special shout out to AFM- your review made me see the silver lining to my cloud. Thank you! :D