Disclaimer: What do you mean, I can't be J.K. Rowling?
Chapter Seventeen
Hermione opened her eyes, blinking a few times to get them accustomed to the dim lighting. Her temples pounded and she reached up to massage them with her thumb and forefinger as she sat up and looked at her surroundings, using her other hand to prop herself up. Her palm brushed against cold, rough stone, and she realized with a start that she was in Dumbledore's office.
Her headache cleared and she anxiously wet her parched lips as she pulled herself to her feet. "Hello?" She called out hesitantly. She took a step forward. "Professor Dumbledore?"
Only the sound of her rapidly beating heart and shallow breathing filled her ears. She took another cautious step forward, the deafening silence filling her with a sense of unease, and stumbled over a jagged corner of a stone in the floor. Her hands reached wildly for something in the dark, and her hands grasped something solid and firm.
Something glinted beneath her fingers in the dimness, and she realized that she was grasping a handle of sorts. She tugged on it, and it revealed a white porcelain basin on a tall slender pedestal. An eerie soft white light illuminated the room, resonating from within the basin's depths.
Something drew her toward it, and she did so willingly, ignoring the logical part of her being that screamed how bad of idea it was and how she didn't even know what that even was (although she admitted to herself that she felt a sense of familiarity about it).
She stepped up to the bowl and stared curiously into its incandescent depths. Shapes that morphed and moved so quickly she couldn't identify each individual one swam within the strange liquid, and she bent her head closer to make them out. She bent closer and closer, squinting at the substance, and she almost thought she had seen what looked very much like Cedric's face flash across the surface, when she suddenly felt a tug at her navel—not unlike when she Apparated—and suddenly a weightlessness.
She felt herself floating for a moment in nothingness, a wave of calmness engulfing her as she became surrounded by the liquid. She wondered briefly if she had drowned, but then she began falling, falling, falling, her arms flailing about her as the calmness shattered, replaced by alarm.
She landed softly, surprisingly on her feet, and the foggy shapes fell all around her and sharpened into more distinct ones.
She looked up and saw a starry night sky, and found herself staring at the entrance to the Triwizard Tournament Maze. She felt like a sharp knife had been plunged into her gut when she saw Cedric hugging his father close by. "Whatever happens in there, son," Amos Diggory was telling his son as they withdrew from the embrace, his hands moving to firmly grasp both of his shoulders, "please remember that I couldn't be more proud of you than I am at this moment."
She heard Cedric laugh, and the knife twisted painfully. "What could possibly happen in there that I haven't been prepared for?"
Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. Her legs turned to mush but she urged them to move forward. She had to warn him before it was too late. "Cedric, no! Don't do it! Don't go in there!" She cried out, but her voice was suddenly hoarse.
He turned in her direction and she could feel heat rising in her face as he looked at her. She froze as he stared right into her eyes, and just as she was going to open her mouth and repeat her warning a little louder she realized, with a sickening jolt, that he was looking through her.
"You'd better go, dad," he said, turning back to Mr. Diggory.
His father nodded his head and affectionately ruffled Cedric's hair. "Good luck, my boy." He said, giving him a weak smile before ambling off.
There was a thunderous boom of a cannon and the band struck up a lively tune as the Triwizard competitors rushed into the Maze, Hermione following right behind Cedric. She looked back just in time to see the tendrils of the bush regrow back together, and then it was silent. Cedric looked both ways before taking a left, and Hermione was about to follow him when all the shapes melded together again in a fog of whiteness.
She stumbled around the fog in confusion, screaming his name at the top of her lungs until her throat was raw, terrified about where he was now and what was happening to him when she heard a jumble of different voices.
"Krum's bewitched!" It was Cedric's, from somewhere to her right.
She ran blindly toward the sound of his voice.
"Look out!" Harry's voice shouted from her left.
"Harry? Cedric? Where are you?" Hermione croaked, straining her vocal chords in desperation.
But then a loud, alarmed voice bellow out, "HARRY, HELP ME!"
And Hermione's.
Heart.
Stopped.
"CEDRIC!" She screamed, and her throat felt like it was being ripped apart.
"REDUCTO!" Harry bellowed, and then it was quiet.
Hermione sank to her knees in relief. He's safe for now. He's safe and alive, and that's all that matters.
Their voices were beginning to get jumbled up and bits of conversation were hard for her to make out.
"You should take it." That was Cedric.
"You got here first—" Harry.
"—compromise—" Cedric—
"THREE!" they shouted in unison, and Hermione's mind was whirling in confusion—
"Sorry—" Harry again—
And then Cedric, "—graveyard,"
"No!" Hermione cried out in agony, knowing what was next but it was too late—
"Kill the spare!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
And then all was silent, except for a dull thud of a body colliding with the ground.
Hermione let out a low, guttural wail, her fingers winding into her hair as she rocked back and forth, hot tears streaming down her face.
She pulled herself to her feet with fast, jerky movements, her breaths ragged and irregular as she tried to choke back her agonized sobs, her tears never once stopping in her haste, ready to bolt, before everything swirled around her into deep black nothingness.
Time passed in bits and pieces of consciousness and unconsciousness after that, and Hermione straddled the line between them for an indefinite period of time—Days? Hours? Minutes? Seconds?—before ultimately plunging headfirst into the darkness.
By that point, everything had blurred together and it was hard to distinguish the difference between her dreams and reality, so that brief moment where she could have sworn she had seen three achingly familiar boys' faces—one with worried chestnut eyes and soft, light brown hair, another with thick, messy raven hair and thin round wire-framed glasses magnifying anxious emerald irises, and the last was a boy with bright red hair and confused, terrified blue eyes—looming over her, or that time she had stared dazedly into the wrinkled face of a woman with a nurse's cap sitting atop her silver hair, could never have been anything more than a figment of her imagination.
And at last, she was floating amidst the inky space around her. She felt unbelievably calm and carefree, and was about to recline back to, perhaps, take a short nap, when something glinting off in the distance captured her eye. She shook out her arms and legs to get blood circulating through them once more before kicking her feet, propelling herself towards the mysterious thing.
Once she had gotten closer, she realized that it was a small, glowing orb. She reached for it slowly, but hesitated, a part of herself—the logical side—telling her that it was dangerous, whatever it was.
But there was something familiar about it that she couldn't seem to place, and her curious side compelled her to slowly reach out and grasp it. As soon as her hands clasped around it, a tingling sensation started from the palms of her hands where the strange, weightless, ball rested, sending electric impulses up her arms and throughout her body.
She shuddered impulsively as a warm shiver crept up and down her spine, and opened her hands to make sure she still had the orb in her hands, and suddenly her eyes were blinded by its intensity, her sight overcome by the bright white light. She closed her eyes and her ears were filled by a loud, shrill whistle—like that of the one on the Hogwarts Express—and then her name being called again and again.
"Hermione, Hermione!" The voices called, a crescendo of such jumbled voices that she couldn't identify which one belonged to whom.
She opened her eyes and found herself at the Kings Cross train station, although it was cleaner than she'd ever seen it, practically sparkling even, and it was utterly bathed in whiteness. She blinked her eyes a few times to adjust them to the brilliant light all around her, and after that she noticed a single figure sitting alone on a bench a short ways away from herself. Curious, Hermione walked slowly over to them, until at last she was close enough to make out that the person was a woman.
She stopped about a meter and a half away from her and gawked at her strikingly beautiful features for a moment. The woman had pale, crystalline skin and salient, ice blue eyes, her flawless heart-shaped face framed by long, thick locks of wavy, shining blonde hair that reached down her trim waist, and she wore exquisite robes made of sparkling silver thread. She looked up at Hermione and smiled, her red lips parting to reveal two perfect rows of straight white teeth. The familiarity with which the stunning woman regarded her surprised her.
"Have I met you before?" Hermione asked quietly.
The woman nodded, her smile growing, adding warmness to her beauty.
Hermione was astonished by the revelation and gave her a puzzled look. "I'm very sorry, but I don't recognize you."
The woman let out a melodic laugh.
"Are you certain we've met before?" Hermione asked, and she nodded again, before drawing up her glittering robes and standing to her full height. The woman gestured to Hermione's hand, which up to that point Hermione hadn't noticed was clenched around something, and she opened her fingers to reveal that same glowing orb sitting in her palm. She looked at the woman, puzzled. "Do you know what this is?"
The woman nodded, smiling, her glacial eyes shimmering with a vast depth of knowledge.
"You have a choice to make, Hermione." The woman said as Hermione's gaze traveled back to the orb, and Hermione's eyes widened with recognition at her voice.
She snapped her eyes up to the woman's face. "You're the voice of that door at Malfoy Manor!" she said, her shock evident.
The woman nodded and gestured back to the orb in Hermione's hand just as a train pulled into the station. They both looked at it for a moment before returning to their conversation. "You've gone through so much to reach this point, Hermione, but your troubles are far from over."
Hermione raised her eyebrows quizzically. "What do you mean?"
The woman's eyes softened. "You risked your life to save the boy that you love, did you not?" Hermione nodded fervently. "That takes a great deal of strength and courage to do. However, it came at a grave price."
"What?" Hermione asked. "What 'grave price' are you talking about?"
The woman seemed not to have heard Hermione's questioning at all, continuing on a tangent, "You have a choice," she repeated again, "and this is the moment where you must make your decision." She looked back at the train, and the whistle blew. Hermione turned her head, too, vainly trying to piece together what the woman was talking about with her vague words.
"Alright," Hermione said finally, returning her attention to the woman, "what do I need to do?"
"You can board the train to return to your uncertain fate," she said, "or you can remain here."
Hermione knew what that meant and began walking toward the train. "I choose life, of course."
"You haven't paid your admittance, Hermione." The woman called out to her just as she was about to walk through the doors, and Hermione noticed that her eyes lingered on the fist wrapped around the orb.
"You mean this?" she inquired, holding her closed hand up in the air above her head. The woman nodded her head. Hermione drew her hand back to herself and unclenched her fist to stare at the orb. "Okay," she said slowly, "okay. What do I do with it?"
"Just let it go." The woman said, taking a few steps back.
Hermione looked at her doubtfully. "But what if it breaks? And where are you going?"
The woman smiled knowingly and repeated her cryptic words once more, her skin glowing and fading quickly. "Let it go, Hermione."
Hermione stepped through the doors and turned around. She looked up where the woman was and saw that she was alone.
The train whistle blew once more, urging her to make her choice. She glanced down at her fist and the light escaping through the cracks between her fingers.
Let it go.
Hermione wrapped her other hand around it and stuck them both outside of the open doorway.
Let it go, Hermione. Just let it go.
She opened her hands and watched the orb disappear, and the warmth it emitted left her body, leaving her feeling oddly vulnerable and naked inside as she retracted her hands back inside of the train. The doors slid shut in front of her and she felt the train lurch forward as it began its journey, and she watched the strange, iridescent, clean Kings Cross station disappear from view through the window.
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, before hearing the voices from earlier again echoing inside of her head.
"Hermione, Hermione!" they said. "Open your eyes, Hermione. Please, just open your eyes!"
Open your eyes.
Open your eyes…
And when Hermione's eyes snapped open, she found herself staring at the ceiling of the infirmary.
"She's awake!" she heard someone shout, and suddenly three familiar faces invaded her vision.
Her head ached and she reached up to touch the back of her head and found bandages wrapped around her head. Her lips pulled into a smile when she saw the relieved looks on each of the boys' faces, and she dragged her tongue across her dry lips before speaking, but she found it hard to make a sound. "Water," she croaked, "I-I need…water."
The three boys stumbled over each other to get the water, before Harry came forward with a glass. Hermione struggled to sit up, and the other two rushed to both of her sides to support her and she reached toward the glass and sighed contentedly as the cool liquid rushed over her parched mouth and down her desiccated throat. "Thanks." She whispered between gulps as she quaffed the water. It was only when she reached the bottom of the glass, rendering it empty, did she set it aside.
Ron and Scott fluffed up her pillows and arranged them about her so that they would comfortably brace her sitting position before all three took a seat around her bed. Her eyes shifted from one to the next and the next, taking in the dark circles beneath each of their eyes and their messy hair. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they hadn't left her side since she was admitted.
"How long have I been in here?" she asked quietly, her vocal chords still getting used to working again, although her voice came out much clearer after drinking the water.
The three of them exchanged glances before Scott reluctantly spoke up. "A few days shy of a month."
Hermione's eyes widened and she felt herself sitting back a little deeper into her pillows as she absorbed the information. "Oh," was all she could say.
"He…still hasn't woken up yet." Harry said after a brief moment of silence.
Hermione turned and looked at him, taking in the slightly hurt expressions on both his and Ron's faces. She knew that by now they knew about Cedric—obviously Harry wouldn't have brought him up if that weren't the case—and she also recognized the fact that she owed her boys an explanation. She looked to Scott. "May we have a moment?" she murmured.
He nodded. "Of course," he said, running his hand through his hair. "I reckon I should probably take a shower, anyways. I haven't bathed properly in a few days."
Hermione nodded and watched him go, only turning back to Ron and Harry after she heard the heavy doors close behind Scott. "I think I have some explaining to do."
"You think?" Ron spoke up first, his voice colored by incredulity. "First, you go off randomly for months and get more and more distant from us, blaming it all on studying for classes—which, mind you, was a very good excuse considering that it's you—and then you end up going into a coma in the bloody hospital wing for nearly a month! You almost died, Hermione! D'you realize that?"
Hermione closed her eyes and took deep breaths to hold back the tears beginning to collect behind her eyelids. She deserved his lashing out, and she knew it. He was hurt and for good reason. They—she, Harry, and Ron—had been best friends since they were eleven, and they were supposed to share everything with each other. What had become of them and their friendship? She hadn't realized how much of a rift her lies had created, and it made her heart ache with guilt.
"I'm sorry." She whispered, opening her eyes to look at him, her lips trembling.
"Don't be sorry, Hermione. Don't you dare be bloody sorry." Ron said harshly, shaking his head, his jaw tight. Harry sat silently beside him, a pained look on his face as he watched Ron break down. "We made you keep it from us. Well, mostly me." Ron ran both hands through his hair and let them rest there for a moment, clenching the bright strands of hair. "I was such a git to you, Hermione. Bloody hell, I should have just…I should have just stopped." He looked up and his eyes were red and shining with tears. Hermione blinked and a tear rolled down her face. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know I'm part of the reason that drove you to being secretive about Diggory."
"And I didn't help, either," Harry piped up. Hermione looked at him, surprised. "I should have stood up for you that morning at breakfast when you found Lavender in your seat. I should have tried to talk to you instead of freezing you out. We all did. And it was wrong." Guilt was etched into his features and she could see how much the past few months had pained him.
"I played a role in it, too." Hermione said honestly, running the back of her hand over her moist cheeks. "It wasn't just you two. I made a promise to Cedric that I wouldn't tell anyone about him or about my research, so I didn't. You shouldn't blame yourselves for what happened, we all equally played a part in it."
They both nodded and there were a few moments of silence before Harry spoke up again, since Ron still appeared too choked up to speak. "What was it like, bringing someone back from the dead?"
Hermione contemplated his question for a minute, trying to come up with a proper explanation. "Well, it was tedious. Scott and I worked hard to gather the ingredients for the potion and it took what felt like forever to brew it. And once it was done, we had to wait until the new moon to even use it, and when I cast the spell, well…I don't really know how to describe it. I was just overcome by this tingling sensation and then a bright light flew out of my wand, and I don't remember much after that." She decided to leave out the part where the woman from Malfoy Manor talked to her, both at Kings Cross station and that night as she wavered on the brink of unconsciousness.
There were a few more minutes of quiet between the three of them, and by that point Ron had composed himself and was ready to engage in conversation once more. "What about you and Diggory? Logan mentioned that you two seemed chummier than you let on."
Hermione blushed. She wanted to tell them that she wasn't sure what exactly they were, that she knew they were friends but for some inexplicable reason, part of her seemed to yearn for something more than that. "We were friends, yeah."
At that moment, Madam Pomfrey made her way over to her. "Oh! You're awake, Ms. Granger!" She smiled warmly at her before turning to the boys and pursing her lips. "What did I tell you boys earlier about your obsessive time spent at Ms. Granger's bedside?" They gave her shameful looks. She wrinkled her nose. "Now, go freshen up before you stink up the whole castle. I assure you that Ms. Granger will still be here when you return."
They mumbled their apologies and goodbyes to Hermione before shuffling out, and Madam Pomfrey laughed to herself and shook her head. "You've got some good friends, Ms. Granger," she said as she uncorked a bottle and poured a vile-looking thick brown liquid into a small paper cup and handed it to her. "They refused to leave your side until you were awake, barely eating or leaving to even change clothes. They'd all three leave at my insistence for classes and of course for curfew, but other than that, they were here the whole time you've been unconscious, waiting for you to wake up." She nodded to the cup in Hermione's hands. "Drink up, dear. That's to help with your headache."
Hermione downed the medicine quickly, gagging at the foul taste, but was grateful after it had settled in her stomach because, just as the mediwitch had predicted, it made the pounding in her head completely go away. "How much longer will I be in here?"
"Overnight, I think. I still need to do a few tests on you, and then you should be good to go back to your normal schedule again."
Hermione nodded before another thought occurred to her. "Where is Cedric?"
The old woman's features softened, but Hermione couldn't tell if it was in pity or thoughtfulness. "He's in a secluded part of the infirmary. I believe that he wouldn't want to frighten anyone while he's still unconscious and unable to explain himself."
Hermione nodded with a smile tugging on her lips. "Yes, I agree that he'd be rather embarrassed. May I see him?"
The mediwitch seemed to hesitate for a moment. "He's actually not allowed visitors," Hermione's heart sank at that, and she continued, "but I think you're a special case, after all that you've done for him." Hermione moved to get out of bed, and Madam Pomfrey came over and urged her to lay back down. "You may see him, Ms. Granger, after you're well enough."
Hermione sighed, but nodded all the same. She just had to wait twenty-four hours, and then she'd be golden.
The following morning, she was awoken by what appeared to be the entire Gryffindor house, as well as her Hufflepuff friends. She smiled brightly at them and her eyes took in all of the delicious food that surrounded her bed. "Surprise!" They all shouted, smiles abundant throughout the crowd.
Hermione laughed and reached for a biscuit. "Thank you so much, everyone. This is…this is too much, really."
Neville stepped forward, beaming. "It was nothing, Hermione. We all missed you and we're glad that you're alright."
Hermione smiled and gestured all around her. "Well, there's plenty of food to go around, so let's eat and be merry."
And as she and all of her friends indulged themselves, Hermione was reminded of the simplicity of the joys life had to offer and how blessed she truly was to have so many people who cared about her.
After everyone had filed out—Madam Pomfrey insisted that they were being much too rowdy and loud for the peaceful atmosphere—the tests were undergone and Hermione passed them with flying colors. On the magic test, she was instructed to perform a few simple charms, and Hermione demonstrated the perfect wand work that she had always possessed, ignoring the slightly painful tug inside of her with each spell she cast. She figured it just had to do with the fact that she hadn't cast any spells in nearly a month, so she didn't mention it to Madam Pomfrey.
She was discharged around one in the afternoon, and went to the Gryffindor tower to change out of her stale clothing and shower. She was mortified by her reflection—her hair was tangled and oily after not being washed in a while, sticking up like an afro, and her skin had grown rather pallid after being inside for so long without being in the sunlight. She couldn't believe that so many people had seen her that way, but she decided that since none of them had mentioned it, she wouldn't, either.
Her muscles relaxed under the warm water as it rushed down her back and she massaged her fingers through her scalp as she applied shampoo and conditioner, working them through each knot until her hair was untangled. After she had stepped out of the shower and dried herself off and was dressed, she wrung out her wet hair and brushed it before twisting it up into a bun and making her way back to the infirmary to see Cedric.
Madam Pomfrey led her into her office, and behind a large painting in there was room large enough for a single bed, a couple of chairs, and a bedside table. "I'll give you a few moments alone," the mediwitch said. "but Ms. Granger, I must inform you that as of now, Mr. Diggory is unconscious and it is uncertain how long he will remain in such a state, or if he'll wake at all."
But by that point, Hermione had already stopped listening, and made her way to his bedside. Madam Pomfrey smiled sadly at the star-crossed couple before silently slipping out of the room.
Hermione's eyes were locked on his perfect face, the slow rise and fall of his chest. His hand lay limply on top of the blankets, and she sat down in the chair by his bedside and took it between both of her own. She smiled at the warmth radiating from his fingers, his palm, and on a whim, kissed each knuckle before leaning forward and tenderly brushing his soft hair out of his face. His eyes were closed, his dark lashes fanning out beneath his eyelids onto his pale cheeks, keeping Hermione from seeing his beautiful grey eyes.
She smiled at his sleeping face and held tightly onto his hand. "Hey, Cedric," She murmured softly. "it's me, Hermione." She didn't know what to say for a little while, so she just listened to his steady, rhythmic breathing. "I miss you already, and I haven't even been awake for very long myself. But I know that you'll wake up eventually. You're just like that—you don't give up without a fight. So I'll be right here until you open your eyes, okay? I'm not giving up on you."
She leaned forward and hesitated for a moment before placing a soft kiss on his cheek, her lips lingering on his soft skin for a moment, before she sat back down, her thumbs brushing over the back of his hand.